Sunday, September 29, 2019 KSFR, Santa Fe, NM Webcasting! 10 p.m. to midnight Sundays Mountain Time Host: Steve Terrell 101.1 FM
Email me during the show! terrel(at)ksfr.org
Here's my playlist :
OPENING THEME: Let It Out (Let it All Hang Out) by The Hombres
Along Came Jones by The Coasters
Glad Rag Ball by Daddy Long Legs
Who Controls the Weather by Alien Space Kitchen
Alien Space Kitchen interview
One More Time by The Dildonts
Let it Come Down by Alien Space Kitchen
I Won't by The Replacements
Barely Getting By by Imperial Wax
60 Minute Man by Jerry Lee Lewis
This Year's Girl by Elvis Costello
Two Dollar Elvis by Left Lane Cruiser
The Coffee Song by Stan Ridgway
Hard Times by Jimmy "Duck"Holmes
Snake Farm by Ray Wylie Hubbard
Thee Olde Trip to Jerusalem by The Mekons
Child of Mercy by The Yawpers
No Blame by Sex Hogs 2
Automatic by Los Pepes
Risking My Heart by Råttanson
Schoolbus by The Toy Trucks
The Beast is You by The Electric Mess
A Lonely Song by Daniel Johnston
Facestabber by Thee Oh Sees
Thick Skin by The Mystery Lights
Love by Sleater-Kinney
Silver Spring by Fleetwood Mac CLOSING THEME: Over the Rainbow by Jerry Lee Lewis
A version of this was published in The Santa Fe New Mexican September 27, 2019
Faithful readers of my music screeds should certainly realize that probably 99 percent of my record reviews are favorable. Ripping into bad music by chirpy little pop stars or stinky old classic rockers years beyond their prime doesn’t bring me much joy. But more importantly, I’d much rather tell people about great music they might not be familiar with.
But there’s one big exception. That’s when some singer or band who I absolutely love releases a record that disappoints me — music that’s so unworthy of musicians who are capable of so much more. That’s when I dip my proverbial pen into the metaphorical poison ink.
You only hurt the ones you love.
So after intense deliberation and heavy sadness, I have decided to blast The Center Won’t Hold, the new album by one of my top favorite bands of the past couple of decades,Sleater-Kinney.
In case the above verbiage seems somewhat familiar to fans of this group, that’s because I was riffing on the announcement in July by longtime Sleater-Kinney drummer Janet Weiss that she was leaving the trio. “The band is heading in a new direction and it is time for me to move on,” she wrote on social media soon after S-K had finished recording The Center Won’t Hold.
A “new direction.” That’s an understatement for the ages.
Quick historical note: Sleater-Kinney first rose from the smoldering ashes of the great Riot Grrrl scare in Olympia, Washington, in the early 1990s. But there was something special about them. It didn’t take long for S-K to slip the surly bonds of the basic girl-punk sound.
Besides Weiss’ mighty drums, there was the scorching two-guitar attack of Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein (also of Portlandia fame). There was Tucker’s hopped-up banshee wail (the group’s greatest weapon). And they only seemed to get better with every new album.
One of the best shows I've ever seen ...
They took a hiatus that lasted a decade or so shortly after releasing their 2005 album The Woods. I missed them dearly in their absence but their 2015 comeback album, No Cities to Love, was nothing short of amazing. (And their concert in Albuquerque in the spring of that year was one of the best shows I’ve ever seen.)
That’s one of the main things that saddens me so about the gloopy mess that is this latest record.
For reasons best known to Corin, Carrie, and Janet (if indeed the latter was part of this decision), they called in Annie Clark, better known among indie-rock circles (whatever that means these days) as St. Vincent. A lot of people, including many whose musical tastes I respect (my own beloved children among them), like her music. But I find it overly precious and boring and much of it soaked in synthy uselessness.
That’s fine. St. Annie can do what she wants. I just wish she hadn’t brought those dubious qualities to Sleater-Kinney’s new album. (Some may call me a stodgy old dinosaur, but I don’t give a flying darn.)
The dearly departed Weiss does play on the new album, but her normal power is diluted severely by synthesized beats. Also, the wild guitars of Tucker and Brownstein take a backseat to the electronic gizmos.
Seriously, had you played me this album without telling me who it was, I would not have guessed it was Sleater-Kinney.
The title song, which starts the album, is cruelly deceptive. It starts out slowly with clanking percussion and a synthesized bass line. The vocals — I think it’s Tucker — seem detached to the rest of the musical backdrop. Then about two-thirds of the way into the song, the old Sleater-Kinney seems to come back to life for the final minute of the track.
But it’s just a tease. By the next number, “Hurry on Home,” the new, artsy, synth-pop S-K is back and, for the most part, here to stay.
I have to admit there are a couple of tunes I actually like. “Bad Dance” comes dangerously close to rock ‘n’ roll. “And if the world is ending now/then let’s dance, the bad dance/we’ve been rehearsing our whole lives,” Brownstein sings. It’s definitely the sexiest song on the album. “Come over here and show me/that you crave a little more/Let me defang you/and defile you on the floor …”
And despite the fact that it’s just as synthy as the worst songs on the album and doesn’t really sound like the Sleater-Kinney I revere, the upbeat “Love” is so catchy it’s addictive. It sounds almost faux-’80s New Wave, maybe The Go-Gos high on pep pills and hair spray. And, somewhat ironically, it’s about S-K’s early history, even dropping the names of some of their early albums.
“Heard you in my headphones/Slipped you my address/Call the doctor/Dig me out of this mess/Tuned it down to C/Turned the amp to ten/A basement of our own/A mission to begin ...”
I’m glad the brave women of Sleater-Kinney no longer have to sleep in their van, as they sing about in “Love.” But I sure hope they turn the amp back to 10 and return to the basic sound that brought us to them in the first place.
It was 199 years go today, Sept. 26, 1820, that Daniel Boone died.
No, he didn't die blazing a trail through unexplored territory or killed in battle by Indians pissed off about him blazing trails through their land or mauled to death by a mother raccoon who though his hat was her baby.
He died at his son's home in in Missouri at the age of 85.
Daniel Boone was a hunter, fur trapper and trailblazing American frontiersman whose name is synonymous with the exploration and settlement of Kentucky. Crossing the Appalachian Mountains and traveling through the Cumberland Gap, Boone helped carve the Wilderness Road from Virginia to Kentucky and established the Boonesboro settlement. He fought in the French and Indian War and escaped the wrath of Native Americans many times over.
And I like this little tidbit: "At the age of 78, Boone volunteered for the War of 1812 but was denied admission into the armed forces."
The whole "living legend" concept has been overdone and cheapened during the past few decades, but if anyone actually qualified for title, Daniel Boone was it. This was largely due to a writer named John Filson, who mythologized his days as a frontiersman.
And yes, there have been songs about him.
Here's one I bet every kid who grew up in the (19)60s will recognize, the theme song of the television show about him that starred America's favorite coonskin hat model Fess Parker, (who in the previous decade starred in and sang the theme song for the Davy Crockett tv show.
Singer Ken Carson released this strange ditty on 78 in 1955
And also in the mid '50s, country singer George Hamilton IV did this nifty tribute
Sunday, September 22, 2019 KSFR, Santa Fe, NM Webcasting! 10 p.m. to midnight Sundays Mountain Time Host: Steve Terrell 101.1 FM
Email me during the show! terrel(at)ksfr.org
Here's my playlist :
OPENING THEME: Let It Out (Let it All Hang Out) by The Hombres
Hulkster's in House by Hulk Hogan
Timothy by The Buoys
World of Freaks by Harry Perry
I Sing Them by Ty Segall
Face Stabber by Thee Oh Sees
Judy in Disguise with Glasses by Jello Biafra & The Raunch 'n' Soul All-Stars
Choctaw Bingo by James McMurtry
Mr. Jones by Talking Heads
Interstate City by Dave Alvin
American Wedding by Gogol Bordello
Turncoat by Imperial Wax
Drunk Guy on the Train by Deadbolt
Kazik Staszewski set
Clap Hands
12 Groszy
Maciek
In the Neighborhood
Innocent When You Dream (Polish Space Druid Mix)
Trouble in Mind by Jimmie Dale Gilmore with Pine Valley Cosmonauts
Angels Fear to Tread by Ed Pettersen
A. on Horseback by Charlie Pickett
Ley it Come Down by Alien Space Kitchen
79 Cents (The Meow Song) by Eilen Jewell
Robots of Rayleen by Xoe Fitzgerald
I'll Fly Away by Alison Krauss & Gillian Welch CLOSING THEME: Over the Rainbow by Jerry Lee Lewis
Twenty nine years ago today, the great nation of Liechtenstein -- a knee-high-to-a-grasshopper landlocked country bordered by Switzerland and Austria -- joined the United Nations.
This calls for celebration!
Let's start with the dwarf nation's national anthem. This tune sounds hauntingly familiar. I think I know some of the lyrics: "The king is Donald Duck / He drives a garbage truck ..."
Polka is very popular in Liechtenstein
Searching YouTube for "Liechtenstein music," I found this, Let's call it Liechtenpalooza!
According to Wikipedia, which is always right, one of Liechtenstein's major stars is Al Walser, who was born in Switzerland and now lives in L.A. Al was nominated for a Grammy a few years ago and apparently showed up to the awards ceremony in a spacesuit. (This song doesn't actually start until about 3 minutes in.
Sunday, September 15, 2019 KSFR, Santa Fe, NM Webcasting! 10 p.m. to midnight Sundays Mountain Time Host: Steve Terrell 101.1 FM
Email me during the show! terrel(at)ksfr.org
Here's my playlist :
OPENING THEME: Let It Out (Let it All Hang Out) by The Hombres
Ramblin' Gamblin' Man by Bob Seeger
Someone Else is in Control by The Mystery Lights
Fire Bug by J.D. McPherson
The Joker is What They Call Me by Billy Myles Let it Come Down by Alien Space Kitchen
Betty vs the NYPD by Jon Spencer Blues Explosion
Sucka Punch by DiNOLA
Want You Around by Råttanson
CBD by The Toy Trucks
Unaccompanied by Sleeve Cannon
Stole Away by REQD
Double Dirty Mother by Roosevelt Sykes
She's Wild by The Vagoos
Jenny Jenny by The Night Beats
Scarla by Jack Oblivian & The Dream Killers
Git Back in the Truck by Hickoids
Mother-in-Law by Ernie K-Doe
Daniel Johnson at The Electric Lounge
Austin, Tx, SXSW 1998
R.I.P. Daniel Johnston
(All songs by Daniel, except where noted)
Grievances
Frankenstein Conquers the World by DJ and Jad Fair
Like a Monkey in the Zoo
Psycho Nightmare
Speeding Motorcycle by Yo la Tengo
Scary Monsters by The Electric Ghosts
I am a Baby in My Universe by Kathy McCarty
Devil Town
You Hurt Me
I Save Cigarette Butts by P
King Kong by Tom Waits
Funeral Girl
True Love Will Find You in the End
Ain't Nobody Perfect by The Mighty Hannibal
It's Twilight Time by The Platters CLOSING THEME: Over the Rainbow by Jerry Lee Lewis
A version of this was published in The Santa Fe New Mexican September 13, 2019
It was a leisurely Thursday morning in the French Quarter of New Orleans. I’d just finished my breakfast, a crawfish omelet, and had planted myself on a park bench in Jackson Square to catch up on some reading. I was enjoying the sidewalk jazz set up by Café Du Monde across Decatur Street from the park. The band was right in the middle of “(Won’t You Come Home) Bill Bailey” when all of a sudden they were drowned out by a loud, almost surreal calliope playing Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer.”
This was the second day in a row that I heard mysterious calliope music filling the air on Decatur. I’d heard it the day before, some spooky-sounding tune I didn’t recognize, in the late afternoon upon leaving my hotel. I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.
A local friend, who lives right across the Mississippi River at Algiers Point, later explained to me that it was coming from one of the riverboats parked nearby.
Depending on the calliope player, she said, it can actually sound great.
The Mother-in-Law Lounge
But that morning on Jackson Square, I just found it annoying as it interrupted a band I’d been digging on. So I decided to cross the park and walk around some. There, on the street facing St. Louis Cathedral, was another brass band, this one made up of younger guys, and they were even better than the group over by Café Du Monde. And by this time the calliope had subsided.
I wanted to give them a tip but had no small bills, so I went one street over to find a place to break a 20. And, lo and behold, there was yet another sidewalk band — this one with a guy playing a jazzy electric guitar along with the horn blowers and drummer — and they were nearly as good as the kids over by the cathedral.
Just another Thursday morning in August in New Orleans.
Man, I love this town! Great food, voodoo — and music is everywhere. Even the airport is named after Louis Armstrong. Music seems to permeate the streets.
Hoofing it from the French Quarter to Treme, for instance, traffic islands have little shrines featuring brightly colored murals of local music heroes. The walls on some businesses and even some houses feature musical murals.
Bruce Daigrepont and his crawfish squeeze box
My absolute favorite was Kermit’s Treme Mother-in-Law Lounge on Claiborne Avenue.
Part of the building features current owner and jazzman Kermit Ruffins playing his trumpet as well as beloved local weirdo rock group Quintron & Miss Pussycat. That’s right next to a larger mural featuring former owner, the late R&B star Ernie K-Doe, hyphen and all (his big hit was “Mother-in-Law” back in 1961) and his wife Antoinette in full royal-highness regalia.
The first night I was in town, I found a little bar on Bourbon Street called Tropical Isle’s Bayou Club, where an accordion-and-fiddle-driven group called The Cajun Drifterswas playing. Led by singer Bruce Daigrepont, who plays a red accordion with a painted-on crawfish, they’ve got a good stompin’ sound that doesn’t drift far from traditional Cajun music.
I liked the Cajun Drifters so much I decided to go back to the Bayou Club my last night in town. Alas, they weren’t playing there the second time around, but another band, T’Canaille, was there.
Led by another singer/accordionist, Lance Caruso, this Cajun group also veers into “swamp pop” (basically R&B-infused Cajun music.)
Weeks after booking this trip, I was excited to learn that my Texas friends and cow-punk pioneers the Hickoids were playing NOLA while I was there. (Guitarist Tom Trusnovic is a Santa Fe boy.) They were at d.b.a., a club on Frenchmen Street, a district full of music clubs.
I’ve seen their show — always rocking, always hilarious, always filthy — a dozen times or more. But
this show was special. Only days before their New Orleans gig, while the band was touring Spain, head Jeff Smith, learned that his older brother Barry had died. Barry’s memorial service was the day before the gig.
So Jeff was the essence of “the show must go on.” It wasn’t easy, but he pulled it off with raunchy grace. (Here’s a little plug: The Hix just released a live album, All the World’s a Dressing Room on Saustex Media that’s a fine representation of their live show.)
Though the Hickoids isn’t a New Orleans band, their opening act, DiNOLA is. Fronted by singer Sue Ford (her husband Jimmy Ford is the drummer) DiNOLA has a hard-edged, sludgy sound has a pre-metal ’70s feel.
I was back on Frenchmen Street the next night to see Kevin Ruffins & The Barbecue Swingers at a club called Blue Nile.
Louis Armstrong’s gone, Professor Longhair’s gone, Allen Toussaint’s gone, Fats Domino’s gone, Dr. John’s gone … Now Kermit with his trumpet and raspy voice is arguably New Orleans’ greatest living showman.
Kermit invoked Armstrong on his snazzy version of “On the Sunny Side of the Street,” then did a fantastic version of the ever-goose-bump-inducing “St. James Infirmary” (his arrangement had more Cab Calloway than Satch) and made the classic “Jock-A-Mo (Iko Iko)” his own.
As the show progressed, Kermit shared the stage with some of his friends, the most memorable being Judy Hill, daughter of Jessie Hill, best known for his 1960 R&B hit “Ooh Poo Pah Doo.” (Unfortunately, Judy didn’t play that song that night.)
I didn’t learn this until later, but Kermit, now in his 50s, started out his career playing for tips with friends in Jackson Square.
That means that one of the young players I saw there could grow up to become the next Kermit Ruffins.
Now for some videos:
Here's the Cajun Drifters at the same place I saw them.
Ladies and gentlemen, the fabulous Hickoids
I'm glad DiNOLA didn't die when I was in New Orleans
