Warning: This Throwback Thursday post might give you sudden cravings for Cinnabon
Readers who watched the opening scene of the premier episode of Better Call Saul will know what I'm talking about.
It's a black-and-white scene featuring a mustachioed Saul Goodman working at a Cinnabon shop at some Omaha mall, apparently hiding out from his recent life of sleazy lawyering and drug money laundering in Albuquerque, as depicted in Breaking Bad.
But in the background there's this song playing, taking on sinister undertones almost certainly not intended when it was recorded. And it sounds just like this:
"Address Unknown" was a 1939 hit for a popular African-American vocal group called The Ink Spots. According to the All Music Guide:
The Ink Spots played a large role in pioneering the black vocal group-harmony genre, helping to pave the way for the doo wop explosion of the '50s. The quavering high tenor of Bill Kenny presaged hundreds of street-corner leads to come, and the sweet harmonies of Charlie Fuqua, Deek Watson, and bass Hoppy Jones (who died in 1944) backed him flawlessly.
All Music notes that "Countless groups masquerading as The Ink Spots have thrived across the nation since the '50s."
I can vouch for that. Back in the early '80s I was assigned to interview the lead singer of "The Ink Spots" who were playing in Santa Fe. I talked with some old guy in his hotel room at La Fonda. I forgot his name, but it wasn't Bill, Charlie, Deek or Hoppy.
Part of the problem was due to the original members themselves. Both Charlie and Deek started rival Ink Spots groups in the early '50s.
Be that as it may, The (real) Ink Spots made some sweet sounds during their glory years of the late '30s through the mid '40s.
And speaking of songs on recent television shows, The Ink Spots covered this Vera Lynn hit, which graced the end of The Colbert Report in December. The group recorded the song at least three times between 1941 and 1944.
Next Monday is Presidents Day. Because I don't do "Wacky Monday" on this blog, we'll just have to celebrate a little early.
Until recently I thought Presidents Day was in honor of George Washington and Abe Lincoln, both of whom were born in February.
But that's not true according to the Snopes website -- which apparently took time off from debunking 9-11 conspiracies and knocking down rumors that a little known section of Obamacare involves selling the kidneys of little white girls to Kenyan organ smugglers.
According to Snopes, the only official holiday next week is for Washington's Birthday. Technically "Presidents Day" doesn't exist. Congress never passed a law to declare it as such.
But what the heck. Why not honor, or at least lampoon, as many presidents as possible in preparation for this holiday that isn't even a holiday.
Here are a few songs to set the tone.
First a snazzy little musical history lesson from They Might Be Giants.
The next artist, known as "Mr. Beat" on Youtube, seems to have been very influenced by They Might Be Giants. Here's a song about the guy who was president when I was born.
Country Joe & The Fish give a one-fingered salute to two presidents with this one. The original version of "Superbird," which appeared on their first album Electric Music for the Mind and Bodywas only about LBJ. But sometime after Richard Nixon took office, Country Joe updated the tune.
This next tune is a "song-poem" about our disco-era president Jimmy Carter. It was written by Waskey Elwood Walls Jr. sung by song-poem titan Gene Marshall (Gene Merlino).
Friday, Feb. 6, 2015 KSFR, Santa Fe, NM Webcasting!
10 p.m. to midnight Fridays Mountain Time Host: Steve Terrell 101.1 FM
email me during the show! terrel(at)ksfr.org
I know I usually throwback to the pre-rock 'n' roll era on Throwback Thursday, but the plane crash that killed Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and The Big Bopper -- 56 years and two days ago -- is a big one.
I was only five years old when the single engine plane carrying the three rockers went down in a snow storm over Iowa on Feb. 3, 1959. But I was a little rock 'n' roll freak even then. I loved The Coasters and I loved Buddy Holly, especially his hit "Peggy Sue." I recall hearing it played on American Bandstand. My mom told me that one of the teenage girls dancing on the show was actually Peggy Sue.
I was only five, but I was in lust!
If my memory serves, I found out about the plane crash listening to a disc jockey talk about it on the radio before playing a Buddy song. I only remember feeling incredibly sad. I'd never thought much about death before. How could someone as cool as Buddy Holly die?
I still get sad thinking about it. At least the music lives on.
If you knew...
Here's Ritchie Valens, with a weird little cameo by Chuck Berry and Alan Freed (from the movie Go, Johnny, Go! )
And here's the Bopper, J.P. Richardson, the only one of the three who hasn't had a movie made about him.
And what the hell, this is far more recent history, but Feb. 4, 2009 is the day that Erick Lee Purkhiser, aka Lux Interior of The Cramps, died. February is just a crappy month for rock 'n' roll.
One of the many contributions of Dr. Demento is his rescuing a comic singer called Benny Bell from the dustbin of history.
Thanks to the good doctor, who frequently played "Shaving Cream," recorded in 1946, and to a lesser extent oter songs like "Everybody Loves My Fanny," Benny Bell won a whole new generation of fans.
I don't care how many times I've heard it, these lyrics always bring a chuckle:
"I have a sad story to tell you It may hurt your feelings a bit Last night when I walked into my bathroom I stepped in a big pile of ... Shhhhh . . . aving cream Be nice and clean. Shave every day and you'll always look keen."
And so forth.
For those not familiar with Bell's biggest hit, (which actually was sung not by Bell, but by a vocalist named Phil Winston aka Paul Wynn) take a listen:
Bell, born Benjamin Zamburg in 1906, (and died in 1999) was a pioneer in Jewish American comedy records.
According to his biography at the Judaica Sound Archives, (a massive collection of Jewish music) which is part of Florida Atlantic University:
The Internet Archive has collected 31 old Benny Bell recordings. Most are from old scratchy 78s in the '40s, though some like "A Goose for My Girl," "Farewell Song" and "Turtle Song," as late as the '70s. Download any or all of these HERE or listen below.
When you listen to Track 4, "Dopey John," go back and read my exploration of the song "Cabbage Head" on this blog. (CLICK HERE)
And as a special bonus, here's a version of "Shaving Cream" by none other than Dave Van Rock
Sunday, Feb. 1, 2015 KSFR, Santa Fe, N.M. 10 p.m. to midnight Sundays Mountain Time Host: Steve Terrell Webcasting! 101.1 FM
email me during the show! terrell(at)ksfr.org
Here's the playlist below
Friday, January 30, 2015 KSFR, Santa Fe, NM Webcasting!
10 p.m. to midnight Fridays Mountain Time Host: Steve Terrell 101.1 FM
email me during the show! terrel(at)ksfr.org
A version of this was published in The Santa Fe New Mexican Jan. 31, 2015
A couple of months ago, when I first got my copy of It’s All in Your Head, the latest offering by that “culture jamming” audio prankster collective known as Negativland, I realized that this work, packaged in a copy of the Bible, could offend a lot of people. (A collector’s edition of the album comes in a Koran.)
But I didn’t suspect that it could literally be dangerous. However, the murders in Paris of Charlie Hebdo staff members by Islamic extremists outraged by irreverent cartoons reminded me that we live in a world in which satire can get you killed. This makes It’s All in Your Head far more relevant than it was the day I opened it.
The project is a rambling exploration of faith, God, organized religions, and how prevailing attitudes toward matters of the spirit affect us all. The first disc bites into Christianity, while the second mostly takes on Islam.
Using clips borrowed from television; radio; movies; children’s records; sermons; scientific lectures; comedy routines; the group’s trademark electronic blips, bloops, and squalls; and even a few songs you might recognize (among them the Talking Heads’ “Heaven,” Jefferson Starship’s “Miracles,” and “I’ve Gotta Be Me” by Sammy Davis Jr.), Negativland constructs an aural theme-park ride that’s funny, horrifying, educational, emotional, and mystifying — sometimes all at once.
“There is no God!” a man insanely shouts at various points throughout this two-disc extended sound collage. I’m not sure whether this sound clip is from a movie (it reminds me a little of Charlton Heston bellowing “It’s a madhouse!” in the original Planet of the Apes) or if it’s one of the Negativlads yelling. It doesn’t matter. The message is clear. However, a counterpart to that is another sound clip, frequently repeated throughout It’s All in Your Head, in which a different man solemnly says, “Let us have faith.” The voice sounds familiar. I think it might be Richard Nixon.
Anyone who has followed Negativland knows where the group stands. In 1987 the band became notorious for a hilarious track called “Christianity Is Stupid,” in which the words of the title are repeated in an out-of-context sound clip by some blustery preacher.
This album delves deeper. It could be subtitled "All Religions Are Stupid." It’s built around a radio station, It’s All in Your Head FM (“Monotheism, but in stereo”), on the Universal Media Netweb.
For most of the first disc, you hear different voices, sometimes interrupted by the imaginary radio staff, presenting religious arguments. On one side are Christian preachers, country singers, and others arguing against atheism, evolution, same-sex marriage, and so on. On the other side there are anthropologists, scientists, and other critics of religion, basically arguing that Christianity is, well, stupid.
Negativland in Portland, August 2014
The track titled “Alone With Just a Story” features the voice of a man with a British accent (is this the late Christopher Hitchens?) questioning the entire idea of faith.
“It teaches people, especially teaches children, that to believe in something without evidence is a virtue, ,,, I think children should be taught to seek evidence. … You’re taught if you start to have doubts, then you must pray to overcome those doubts. You’re taught that if somebody comes to you with plausible arguments to the contrary, then that’s probably the devil speaking.”
After this, a woman says, “This is really fun because you can make a Jello mold that looks like a brain.”
God bless Negativland!
But in addition to mocking anti-evolution preachers, Negativland also lampoons pro-evolution scientists in what is probably the funniest part of the album: a Firesign Theatre-like track called “Wildlife Tonight.” This is an original piece — not something sampled from radio or TV — in which goofy scientists shave a chimp to prove that apes are related to humans. (“Don’t worry about Cherry, folks, we have a little skirt and sweater for her.”)
The first disc tends to be lighthearted. Poking fun at preachers is a time-honored American comedy tradition, going back before Mark Twain. Even the serious parts seem like overly earnest dorm-room discussions. Negativland is on safe ground here.
But at the very end of the disc, there is a blaring tone followed by an announcement of an attack on the United States and a blast of sonic discordance.
At the outset of the next disc, the host announces that the station is under new management. Middle Eastern music and people speaking in Arabic follow. The announcer, in his generic radio voice, says, “You’re listening to It’s All in Your Head FM. We’re all Mohammads now.”
And now there are ghostly voices saying “God is perfect” and repeating the word Islam. This is followed by a series of clips of scholarly lectures on the history of Islam, terrorism, and the Crusades. In a track called “Holy War,” we hear the voice of George W. Bush announcing the bombing of Baghdad and the invasion of Iraq and hear some American berserker calling for the bombing of Mecca and other holy places. “This is a holy war,” he says.
The most chilling moment of the entire album comes in the middle of a lengthy track called “Push the Button.” Here a woman, purportedly a jihadist (her accent sounds British), explains, “I don’t target women and children in particular. … The way I see it is that the Jews weren’t merciful with my nation. I don’t have anything against Israeli children. But I know there is the possibility that an Israeli child could grow up and one day come to kill my son or my neighbor’s son. Therefore I feel he should be dead now.”
And while she is justifying these unspeakable acts, in the background you hear a group of schoolchildren singing a sweet version of the Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows” (from the Langley Schools Music Project, 1970s recordings of popular songs performed by kids).
The major theme of It’s All in Your Head is that blind faith in the god of whatever culture you come from, in conjunction with unblinking obedience to political leaders (a by-product of that unquestioning faith), can only lead to hatred and violence against those who believe otherwise. Not a terribly original thought, though a valid one.
The album ends with a message from the radio station, which seems to have returned to its old management. The announcer puts forth the question:
“God, natural fact or unnatural fiction? This decision is your head’s to decide. And the next step will be yours to remove your blindfold and take this All in Your Head message out of this building to all of those unable to attend this broadcast.”
With “Awesome God,” Rich Mullins’ slick 1988 contemporary gospel song swelling in the background, a listener might envision a righteous, godless army of determined rationalists marching forth with the terrible swift sword of intellect to vanquish the blind and hateful forces of religious fanaticism.
I first heard of the outlaw Sam Hall as a little kid. I heard it on a Tex
Ritter album called Blood on the Saddle, which originally was released in
1960. Next to the title song -- which is a story for another day -- "Sam Hall"
was my favorite track on the album.
There was nothing heroic about Sam Hall, at least the way Tex told it. No mythic
elements. No scent of injustice in his execution. He was just a hardcore,
unrepentant bad-ass, a self-admitted murderer ("I killed a man they said, and I
smashed in his head and I left him there for dead ...") facing the gallows with
sneer and weird little whoop. He confronts the sheriff, a preacher, a woman
named Molly, or may or may not have done him wrong and a hostile crowd that
wants to see him die.
And Sam's main message to them all: "Damn your eyes!" Or was it "Blast Your
Hide"? Or some other variation?
I didn't realize it at the time, but Tex Ritter had done a few versions of Sam
Hall, It was the first single he recorded for Decca Records in the mid 1930s.
And he sang in his first movie, Song of the Gringo in 1936. Here's a video of
that:
But "Sam Hall" is much older than that.
Richard Thompson on his 2003 album 10,000 Years of Popular Music,
introduces it, saying introduces it calling it "an 1840s" song. Says
Thompson, "And the guy who sang it would come on stage in the prison stripes and
manacles.... So feel free to boo during the song, boo and hiss ..."
And that's basically correct. The song apparently comes from an old British folk
song about a condemned criminal called "Jack Hall," A 1904 book,
Folk Songs from the Sommerset
edited by Cecil Sharp, quotes Frank Kidson, an early folksong scholar:
Jack Hall was a chimney sweeper, who was executed for burglary in 1701. He
had been sold when a child to a chimney sweeper for a guinea ... About 1845-50 a comic singer named G. W. Ross revived [`Jack Hall'] under
the name `Sam Hall,' with an added coarseness not in the original."
Ross apparently turned it into the kind of stage routine Thompson described.
Here's Thompson's version which is based on Ross' song.
Skipping ahead to the 1960s, The Dubliners, an Irish folk group recorded a
version of "Sam Hall." I their re-telling, the condemned chimney sweep isn't
just a blustery bad guy. He has taken on some aspects of Robin Hood.
I have twenty pounds in store and I’ll rob for twenty more For the rich must help the poor, so must I ...
Note that the Sam Hall in the British or Irish versions is just a robber, not a
murderer. But here in America, our Sam is a killer. Singer Josh White's lyrics
are closer in to Ritter's: "You're a bunch of muckers all, goddamn your eyes
..." Here's his version, which first appeared in 1955 on White's album
The Story Of John Henry & Ballads, Blues And Other Songs.
Meanwhile, Johnny Cash's Sam, from his 1965 album Sings the Ballads of the True West sounds like a psychotic drunk.
In their 1996 album Green Suede Shoes, the Celt-rock band Black 47 took
Sam back to the Emerald Isle. In their version, loosely based on that of The
Dubliners, Sam is a chimney sweep again, an oppressed worker who lost his temper
at a cruel boss.
I had three fine sons to feed, that's no joke, that's no joke And a wife worn out from need, that's no joke But the boss he said to me, "Get your brats out on the street For they cost too much to feed", that's no lie, that's no lie My wife died from misery, that's no lie Oh, I struck the bastard down, I don't deny, I don't deny Raised the black flag up on high for anarchy Oh, I struck the bastard down, to hell with bosses, church and crown But they hunted me to ground like a dog.
Black 47's anarchist martyr's last words are "Liberty for all mankind!"
Very noble. But somehow "Damn your eyes!" strangely is more satisfying.
Warning: This Throwback Thursday post might give you sudden cravings for Cinnabon
