tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243621122024-03-13T21:37:55.637-07:00THE SAN FRANCISCO NOBODY SINGSSongs and musical compositions selected towards assembling a portrait in sound(s) of San Francisco. A strict No Tony Bennett and Scott McKenzie Zone.ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-76338649898172985092020-10-18T13:35:00.006-07:002020-10-18T14:02:47.092-07:00"Frisco Flo" (Cab Calloway)<div aria-level="3" class="Ss2Faf zbA8Me i8lZMc qLYAZd" role="heading" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.3; margin-left: 16px; margin-right: 16px; margin-top: 24px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="verse" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; border-image: none; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; color: black; display: inline; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.77em; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span face=""Trebuchet MS", sans-serif"><span face=""Trebuchet MS", sans-serif"><i>"Frisco Flo was just a typical gal/Frisco Flo was just a regular my-gal-Sal/Frisco Flo was just as sharp as a tack/...f</i></span></span></div>
<span face=""Trebuchet MS", sans-serif"><span face=""Trebuchet MS", sans-serif"><i><div class="verse" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; border-image: none; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; color: black; display: inline; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.77em; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
or a fellow would give the shirt right off of her back/</div>
</i></span><span face=""Trebuchet MS", sans-serif"><i><div class="verse" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; border-image: none; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; color: black; display: inline; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.77em; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
She knew the smallies and the biggies, the weak and the strong/</div>
</i></span><span face=""Trebuchet MS", sans-serif"><i><div class="verse" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; border-image: none; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; color: black; display: inline; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.77em; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
A sinner, no beginner, at kicking the gong/But with it all, she always knew the right from the wrong/'</div></i></span><span face=""Trebuchet MS", sans-serif"><i><div class="verse" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; border-image: none; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; color: black; display: inline; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.77em; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Love Thy Neighbor' was her favorite song...</div></i></span></span></span></div><div aria-level="3" class="Ss2Faf zbA8Me i8lZMc qLYAZd" role="heading" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.3; margin-left: 16px; margin-right: 16px; margin-top: 24px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span face=""Trebuchet MS", sans-serif"><span face=""Trebuchet MS", sans-serif"><i><div class="verse" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; border-image: none; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; color: black; display: inline; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.77em; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Frisco Flo is up in heaven, I know/ </div></i></span></span><span face=""Trebuchet MS", sans-serif"><i><div class="verse" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; border-image: none; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; color: black; display: inline; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.77em; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span face=""Trebuchet MS", sans-serif">Here below, we love the memory of Frisco Flo/</span></div>
<div class="verse" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; border-image: none; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; color: black; display: inline; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.77em; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span face=""Trebuchet MS", sans-serif">Though she's gone, we go on/</span></div>
<span face=""Trebuchet MS", sans-serif">L<div class="verse" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; border-image: none; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; color: black; display: inline; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.77em; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">ike a flame, we carry onward in the name of Frisco Flo!"</div></span></i></span></span></div><div aria-level="3" class="Ss2Faf zbA8Me i8lZMc qLYAZd" role="heading" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.3; margin-left: 16px; margin-right: 16px; margin-top: 24px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: black; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit;">Although best known for the classic 'Minnie The Moocher', the late great African American jazz singer, actor and performer <b>Cab Calloway</b> (1907-1994) clearly had plenty of time and affection for other good time, night blooming feminine flora, as evidenced by this lesser known original. It was first performed by Calloway as part of a movie musical, </span><i style="color: black; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit;">The Cotton Club Parade of 1936, </i><span style="color: black; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit;">showcasing talent exclusive to that famed Harlem nightspot.</span></span></div>
<div aria-level="3" class="Ss2Faf zbA8Me i8lZMc qLYAZd" role="heading" style="font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.3; margin-left: 16px; margin-right: 16px; margin-top: 24px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: verdana;"><span face=""Trebuchet MS", sans-serif"><span style="color: #222222;">The equally late and great wordsmith Terry Southern, in dissecting Mick Jagger's performing style and way of 'selling a song', linked it to a </span>"</span><span face=""Trebuchet MS", sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span><span>tradition (of movin' and groovin') [that] had its most modest beginning with Cab Calloway at the Cotton Club in Harlem, where he would occasionally strut or slink about in front of the bandstand
by way of 'illustrating' a number. After each, he would
take his bow, mopping his forehead, beaming up his gratitude for the applause
as he reverted to his "normal" self for the next downbeat (and invariably
a change of pace)."</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div aria-level="3" class="Ss2Faf zbA8Me i8lZMc qLYAZd" role="heading" style="color: #222222; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.3; margin-left: 16px; margin-right: 16px; margin-top: 24px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: verdana;">Years later, Calloway would actually work on a film co-written by Southern, 1965's <i>The Cincinnati Kid</i> starring Steve McQueen.</span></div>
<div aria-level="3" class="Ss2Faf zbA8Me i8lZMc qLYAZd" role="heading" style="color: #222222; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.3; margin-left: 16px; margin-right: 16px; margin-top: 24px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: verdana;">Listen to 'Frisco Flo" here:</span></div><div aria-level="3" class="Ss2Faf zbA8Me i8lZMc qLYAZd" role="heading" style="color: #222222; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.3; margin-left: 16px; margin-right: 16px; margin-top: 24px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><u>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xMNsKtSHsag</u></span></div>
<div aria-level="3" class="Ss2Faf zbA8Me i8lZMc qLYAZd" role="heading" style="color: #222222; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.3; margin-left: 16px; margin-right: 16px; margin-top: 24px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span face=""Trebuchet MS", sans-serif"><br /></span></div>
<div aria-level="3" class="Ss2Faf zbA8Me i8lZMc qLYAZd" role="heading" style="color: #222222; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.3; margin-left: 16px; margin-right: 16px; margin-top: 24px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<br /></div>
ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-58196987587575370652020-05-31T14:56:00.001-07:002020-05-31T15:10:40.679-07:00 "San Francisco Street” (Steven Lancaster)<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Artificial
flowers growing/in a hot and smokey breeze/Fluorescent sunshine
glowing/indicating names of factories..../But don't go away/Just
smile everyday/Wear love in your heart/Wear a flower in your hair and
you'll see.../Anywhere can be San Francisco (2x)/Anywhere can be San
Francisco Street/Come with me, and retreat/to my world and you'll
see...</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>There
may be no green grass growing/only hard black tarmac road/Where
you'll see people going/Through the world that they don't really
know/You don't have to roam/Just stay right at home/Wear love in your
heart/Wear a flower in your hair/And you'll see...Anywhere can be San
Francisco...</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>Sweet
music playing/in the dimly lit cafe/The steamed-up windows/where the
people's fingers play/writing names, playing games, writing
names...Anywhere can be San Francisco Street...”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Another
look at the Summer of Love's Ground Zero from across The Pond,
similar to that of <a href="https://thesfnobodysings.blogspot.com/2011/04/lets-go-to-san-francisco-flowerpot-men_17.html">“Let's Go To San Francisco”</a>, this song proposes
the idea that, no matter how urban-unrenewed and depressing your home
burg might be at times, you have the cheering, fantastical option at
one's disposal of creating a tie-dyed, paisley and patchouli oasis.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Indeed,
San Francisco is all in the mind. (And keep in mind that, by the time
this song came out, the bloom was starting to fade off the actual
Haight Street rose.)</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Produced
by Yank expat Shel Talmy, this hopeful, folky pop confection
- replete with 'ba-ba-ba' vocals - was a decided departure from the
usual brash soundscapes he created for the early Who and Kinks.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="more"></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Steven
Lancaster was the </span></span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>nom
de rocque</i></span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-style: normal;">
for one Len Moseley, who would go on to a similarly sunshiny
psych-pop vocal group called Wild Silk, releasing a sole, rather charming single, "Toymaker", in 1969. Moseley also wrote the
song “The Night Before” for Lee Hazlewood.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Listen
to “San Francisco Street” here:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7NcxkTl75CQ">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7NcxkTl75CQ</a></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-20399081751015694262020-05-09T15:10:00.000-07:002020-05-09T15:14:49.874-07:00"Sausalito (Is The Place To Go)" (The Ohio Express ...or is it?)<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>You
might realize from the sound of my voice...that I...am not...from San
Jose. (much audience laughter) No, I come from across the
water...Sausalito. (more laughter)”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>-Ray
Davies of The Kinks, from his one man show </i><span style="font-style: normal;">The
Storyteller</span><i>, Alcazar Theater, San Francisco, circa 1996.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Cruising
'round 'round, fell out of my boat/Swam around, swam around, started
to float</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>/Floated
'round 'round, hanging onto the flow/There I found, there I found
Sausalito/</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Perfect
leaf green, it's all in the view/Every shade, marmalade, every
hue/Houses in stilts grow out of the sea/Everything's growing, it's
growing for me.../Sunning all day, loving all night/(Write/ride?) a
bit, fight a bit, got it just right/Music and flowers, the sight and
the sound/Fish a bit, wish a bit, magic's all around.../You oughta go
there, everything grows there/When you get high on a mountain,it
snows there</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>/Everything's
groovy, like in a movie/Sausalito is the place to go to now...”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">OK,
I know: as song lyrics go it's not exactly on the level of, say,
'Visions Of Johanna'...but what would you honestly expect from one of
the prime movers of that celebrated and reviled sub-genre of Rock
known as </span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>Bubblegum</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">?</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Released
the summer of and month before the Woodstock Festival in 1969, this
became one of the last singles to be released by </span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>The
Ohio Express, </b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">part of the
stable of the undisputed masters of Bubblegum, </span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>Jerry
Kasenetz and Jeff Katz</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">.
Emerging during the Summer of Love, the Bubblegum sound was a simple,
nursery-rhyme-catchy antidote to Psychedelic excess. As a result,
Kasenetz-Katz produced quite the stunning run of Top 40 hits leaping
from transistor radios worldwide between 1967 and '69. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">As
stated above, serious rock fans dismissed Bubblegum as mindless
commercial trash, yet its simplicity would later be taken to heart by
those who would create what became Glam (and aspects of Punk) in a
similarly bright, sharp pop image. Another Kasenetz-Katz act, </span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>the
1910 Fruitgum Company</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">'s
'1-2-3 Red Light' was covered by the original three-piece </span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>Talking
Heads</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">, and later hit
'Indian Giver' by </span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>The</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>Ramones.</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>The Kasanetz-Katz Singing
Orchestral Chorus</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">' hit
'Quick Joey Small' was allegedly the first song </span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>The</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">
</span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>Cramps</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">
ever attempted to play. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Other
occupants of the Kasenetz-Katz stable of Bubblegum stars were </span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>Crazy
Elephant</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;"> ('Gimme Gimme
Good Lovin'') and </span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>The
Music Explosion </b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">('Little
Bit o' Soul', also covered by The Forest Hills Fab Four). Even the
none-more-garagey </span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>Shadows
Of Knight </b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">were
beneficiaries of 'A Super K Production' with a remake of their hit
'Shake'.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Then
there were The Ohio Express, and the almost annoyingly, adenoidal
bliss of ubiquitous hits like 'Yummy Yummy Yummy', 'Chewy Chewy' and
'Down At Lulu's' (which would provide a Bay Area vintage/rocker
boutique with its name in the late '90s).</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">After
their initial run of hits, however, lead singer and co-writer Joey
Levine decided to jump ship over money issues. Seeing as much of the
Kasenetz-Katz roster were studio creations to begin with, other
songwriters and players were sought out to carry on the Ohio Express
brand.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Improbably,
one of the journeymen songwriters they turned to was </span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>Graham
Gouldman</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">: already a known
hit-making quantity, having penned chart-toppers like 'For Your Love'
and 'Heart Full Of Soul' for </span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>The
Yardbirds</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">, 'Bus Stop' and
'Look Through Any Window' for </span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>The
Hollies</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">, and 'No Milk
Today' and 'Listen People' for </span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>Herman's
Hermits</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">. Finding himself
in 1969 at what he now calls 'a creative lowpoint', Gouldman accepted
Super K's offer and, in tandem with fellow jobbing musician/songsters
</span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>Eric Stewart, Lol Creme
</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">and</span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>
Kevin Godley,</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;"> set about
churning out the required Bubblegum.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Reaching
#86 on the American Top 40 charts, 'Sausalito (Is The Place To Go)',
though credited to The Ohio Express, was in fact sung and performed
by the aforementioned Gouldman and co. The four would in time set out
on their own, first as </span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>Hotlegs</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">
with 1970's fluke of a global smash 'Neanderthal Man', then more
famously as smart-pop artisans </span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>10cc</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;">.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">('Sausalito'
and other Gouldman and pre-10cc tunes, written for Kasenetz-Katz and
others, can be found on the 2003 anthology</span><i> Strawberry
Bubblegum</i><span style="font-style: normal;">, released by Castle
Music.)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1qmrD3Uus8"><span style="font-style: normal;">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1qmrD3Uus8</span></a></span></span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-52982886076533105952017-04-23T13:20:00.000-07:002017-04-23T13:31:39.366-07:00"Frisco Blues" (John Lee Hooker)<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span lang="en"><i>“I
left my heart in San Francisco/I left my heart, people, in San
Francisco/High on the hill, at the Golden Gate, 'cross the bay/In San
Francisco, on the hill, the mornin' fog/And the cool, cool
night/That's where I wanna be, San Francisco/That's where my
heart/Been to New York City/I've been to Chicago/But found no place,
like San Francisco/With the cable car, high, high, on the hill/In the
mornin' fog/The evening breeze/The cool, cool night/Is where I wanna
be/Oh yeah.../That's where I wanna be, people/My heart is
there, my heart is there, in San Francisco...”</i></span></span></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And
the fogies and squarejohns-and-janes who witnessed the outset of Rock
and Roll thought it bad enough that it was all three chords: imagine
the conniptions they had when they heard someone using only one.
Yes, the music of John Lee Hooker could be so simple and
single-minded in its dedication to The Boogie, both eternal and (yes)
endless.</span></span></div>
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</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yet
it was a simplicity, like that of the Ramones, one could emulate but
never hope to duplicate. And equally as infectious and grooveable in
its way as the Forest Hills Fabs.</span></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Although,
to give fair play, many did try: his 'Boom Boom' was fantastically
souped up and unleashed by The Animals and, later, Dr. Feelgood
(although Wilko's mob's take was closer to the original, while Eric
and co. essayed more of a jazzy swing, no doubt the handiwork of Alan
Price). </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The sultry juke joint pulse of RL Burnside, Junior Kimbrough
and other Mississippi Hill Country dwellers also clearly and deeply
drank from the well of the Hook. Not to ignore the widely assumed Mod
speedfreak stutter of The Who's “My Generation” being, as later
revealed, Pete Townshend's hat tip to a Hooker side called
“Stuttering Blues”.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A
rarely acknowledged element of his biography is that John Lee Hooker,
in the latter part of his life, maintained a steady presence in the
Greater Bay Area. He was a regular feature act in jazz and blues
clubs around San Francisco, including Sugar Hill on Broadway in North
Beach, owned and operated by folk singer Barbara Dane during the
early-mid Sixties. </span></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I</span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">t
was in the Bay Area where, during the late Sixties, Hooker encountered and struck up
a friendship with a certain admirer named Van Morrison that endured the rest of his life and
career. (The video of Hooker sitting in with Van during the latter's
concert in the fall of 1989 at New York's Beacon Theater – captured
on the video <i>Van Morrison In Concert</i> – is a must see.)</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then there was, most notably, the venerable blues dive across the street from the
original San Francisco Fillmore once known as Jack's Tavern (1601
Fillmore at Geary), scene of many an after hours gig patronized by
players having just finished a Fillmore set. When taken over by
new management in the early Nineties, Hooker, a regular patron of
Jack's, gave his blessing for them to rename it The Boom Boom Room.
Until his passing in June 2001 at his home in Los Altos (some 40 miles
south of The City), Hooker's name even reigned above the title on the neon
sign hanging outside the club.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Back
in 1963, however, Hooker would enter a Detroit studio, assisted by,
among others, a troupe of female singers from the Motown Records session pool
that included Mary Wilson of the Supremes. He then proceeded to
transform Tony Bennett's recently minted chestnut into a typically
down-home yet simultaneously uptown tribute to his soon to be adopted
homebase. </span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">(It
was later redone on Hooker's 1997 album <i>Don't Look Back</i>.) </span></span></div>
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ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-78641996514153942192015-04-15T19:14:00.002-07:002015-04-19T10:47:38.877-07:00"Save Me San Francisco" (Train)<i>I used to love the tenderloin until I made some tender coin<br />/Then I met some ladies from Marin/<br />We took the highway to the one up the coast to catch some sun/<br />That left me with these blisters on my skin/</i><br />
<i>Don't know what I was on but I think it grows in Oregon/<br />So I kept on going, going on right through/<br />I drove into Seattle rain, fell in love then missed the train/<br />That could have took me right back home to you/ </i><br />
<br />
<i>(chorus as such)</i><br />
<i>I've been high, I've been low<br />I've been yes and I've been oh, hell no<br />I've been rock 'n' roll and disco<br />Won't you save me San Francisco?</i><br />
<br />
<i>Every day so caffeinated, I wish they were Golden Gated<br />Fillmore couldn't feel more miles away<br />So wrap me up return to sender, let's forget this five year bender<br />Take me to my city by the bay</i><br />
<br />
<i>I never knew all that I had, now Alcatraz don't sound so bad<br />At least they have a hell of a fine Merlot<br />If I could wish upon a star I would hitch a cable car<br />To the place that I can always call my own</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I've been high, I've been low</i><br />
<i>I've been up, I've been down<br />I've been so damn lost since you're not around<br />I've been reggae and calypso<br />Won't you save me San Francisco?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
So then..<br />
I include this because it has lyrics very specific to the Bay Area, and the tone of said lyrics is quite amusing, to me anyway.<br />
<br />
That said, as ROLLING STONE Magazine said so trenchantly when doing a profile of the Stooges in ‘69:<br />
<i>The following article does not constitute an endorsement of current phonographic products. <br />– Editor (ie Jann Wenner).</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
These lyrics are specific and joyful and the tune itself is pretty OK.
That said, Train is one of the most brown lipsticked combos I have ever
had the unfortunate circumstance to experience. <br />
<br />
Pat Monahan, who writ and sang the words up there, is the most
showboating hambone of a frontman I have ever seen in my life, up there
with fellow discredit to Bay Area music S. Hagar. <br />
<br />
And what is most annoying about him, is besides his very existence, is
that there are so many of these folk. Eddie Vedder is the worst parts of
Morrison, and somewhere DL Roth ends up in that equation, if you think
about it. Somehow maybe the least ‘honest’ performers turn out to be the
most honest. <br />
<br />
For th’ rekkid: My two favorite live performers who punctured the arena
rock barrier were Bowie on the STATION TO STATION tour in 76, and Neil
Young on the RUST NEVER SLEEPS tour (only ever seen by me on film,
dammit).<br />
<br />
Anyway, to sum up: a fun tune, great lyrics. Don’t buy TRAIN Wine. <br />
And I hope, in the midst of Google glassholeness, carpetbaggers and
stupefied locals, that San Francisco saves me too before I die and/or
lose my freakin marbles.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/jlahP60vgSc" width="560"></iframe><br />ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-68292375046003669852015-02-08T12:11:00.002-08:002015-02-08T18:22:26.125-08:00‘San Francisco’ (Foxygen)<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i>“Up in San Francisco where the forest meets the bridge/I thought I saw you standing there/and then you fell into the world…</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i>But that was many years ago/and I am so much older now/My brother is a soldier now/I can't see them anyhow, I moved up, in the wind/And you, swimming uptide/ or just tuning in radio stations…<br /><br />And we're restating on this hill/That Jesus came from Israel/Isaac followed the sacred cow/So not to wake a sparrow splashing mud…</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i>But that was many years from now/And I hope from here on now/That I always seem to want to shout/‘Your eyes are like a cup of tea/you're sending to the sun with me’…/You swimming upstream, or just tune into new sensations/I was broken, you were broken…<br /><br />I left my love in San Francisco (That's okay, I was bored anyway)/I left my love in the room (That's okay, I was born in L.A.)/I left my love in San Francisco (That's okay, I was bored anyway)/ left my love in a field (That's okay, I was born in L.A.)…”</i><br /><br />So it’s too long we have tarried, obviously; at least a year since the last SFNS post, in fact. Apologies.<br /><br />A lot can and has happened here in town with the passing of such time, both in the City itself and to your humble blogster. Things in both instances which have a tendency to shake one’s confidence and belief in both to their respective foundations. So it transpires one seeks out those articles of faith that restore self-confidence as well as confidence to not give up, and stay and strive to maintain what the heck it is that attracted one to such a place as this City That Knows How (Even If It Sometimes Doesn’t Know Why).<br /><br />So it is with this tune. I know next to nothing about this group except they are, like the lyric says, from L.A. Also that their singer, one <b>Sam France</b>, has such a beguilingly androgynous voice - equal bits the dispassion of Nico, the wistfulness of any number of UK female folkrockers (St John, McDonald, Bunyan) with the effortless guile of early Rundgren - that, the first few times I heard it, I was convinced that it was some winsome South Cali nubile. <br /><br />And yes, the lyrics are maybe a little too elliptical and imagistic for their own good…yet there’s a real uplift to the music and the tune. Dreamy and hopeful and affirmative. <br /><br />I’m listening to it as I type this on a gloomy rainy Sunday in the City and it’s like a stream of sunlight break in the clouds, all the better to help one along and through the sometimes ominous changes we locals have to contend with, and confront, on an all too daily basis as of late.<br /><br />(I also recommend a tune off Foxygen’s latest, <a href="http://youtu.be/T943KTBi7q4">‘How Can You Really’</a>: another melodic pop bouquet that favorably compares to nothing less than classic early Todd Rundgren. And in this clip? Sam France and band: VERY much informed by the Runt. Check out TR's 'Waiting Game' Letterman performance for comparison and contrast.)<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/KtdWGGpvY1s" width="560"></iframe></span>ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-73381285036641766302013-04-06T13:27:00.000-07:002013-04-07T13:43:07.496-07:00"Small Jean Genie snuck into the City..." (or, D.B. in S.F.)<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">All the recent hoohah about <b>David Bowie</b>'s (not unenjoyable) return to the pop culture arena made me think of a chance remark a friend once made, pertaining to a Bowie song from his Ziggy Stardust '70s heyday. Quite a primo example of a mondegreen, in fact. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You all know what a mondegreen is, <span style="font-size: small;">right?</span> 'Excuse me while I kiss this guy.' 'There's a bathroom on the right.' That sort of thing. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This particular one, however, had more than a bit of perhaps unintentional local historical truth. It's from the <i>Aladdin Sane</i> track <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q1BB7jUt4sA">'Cracked Actor'</a>. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Musically, it<span style="font-size: small;">'</span>s one of those souped-up <b>Yardbirds</b>/British R&B knockoffs Bowie was fond of back then. The lyric, however, with its seedy recounting of a liaison between an aging Hollywood film star and his male hustler/junkie booty call of the night, led it to being banned by my then favorite Washington DC 'free<span style="font-size: small;">-</span>form rock' radio station upon <i>Aladdin Sane</i>'s release.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In any case, this friend misheard part of the lyric being <i>"You've caught yourself a trick down on Sunset and Vine/but since he pinned you, baby, you're on Polk and Pine..."</i> The actual lyric being ...<i>"since he pinned you...</i>you're a porcupine<i>".</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Unintentional or not, my friend - having lived in San Francisco since back when Bowie/Ziggy was making such a big noise - can be forgiven for making such a mistake. <span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Long</span> before the neighborhood of The Castro - formerly known as Eureka Valley - became international shorthand for 'gay Mecca', the main energy center for San Francisco's homosexual demimonde was the area known as <b>Polk Gulch</b>. Roughly the stretch of downtown's Polk Street between Geary Boulevard and Sacramento Street, there could be found any number of clubs, bars and restaurants catering to and frequented by a gay clientele during the 1970's. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The intersection of Polk and Pine alone was well known for three gay-specific businesses. <b>The Palms Cafe</b> was a relatively classy restaurant and live music club, at one point hiring a young artist and aspiring musician named <b>Michael Cotten</b> to paint murals on its walls - he later became an original member of <b><span style="font-size: small;">T</span>he Tubes</b>. <b> </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><a href="http://blogs.sfweekly.com/shookdown/Kimos-outside-change-owner.jpg">Kimo's (1351 Polk Street</a><a href="http://blogs.sfweekly.com/shookdown/Kimos-outside-change-owner.jpg">)</a><a href="http://blogs.sfweekly.com/shookdown/Kimos-outside-change-owner.jpg">,</a> </b>which opened in 1978, consisted of a small downstairs dive bar and an equally intimate upstairs area which hosted drag shows. Kimo's later became known as a showcase venue for countless fledgling Punk and Metal bands. <b>Metallica</b> played a secret show there</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> (under the name Spun)</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span>in 2002. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Your blogger also witnessed a fantastic gig there in 2000 by <b>The Triple Gang</b>, performing the entire <i>This Nation's Saving Grace</i> album by <b>Mark E. Smith and The (Mighty) Fall</b>. Strictly a one-off assemblage, Triple Gang included drummer<b> Jon Weiss</b> (then of local rockers <b>Horsey</b>, later with <b>Ween</b>) and <b>Billy Gould</b>, bassist of <b>Faith No More</b> (who more recently collaborated with <b>This Heat</b> drummer <b>Charles Hayward</b>, among others, to create a most stunning, potent instrumental disc, <i>City of Quartz,</i> under the name <a href="http://koolarrow.com/house-of-hayduk-city-of-quartz/"><b>House of Hayduk</b></a>.)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Kimo's unfortunately closed in 2012 after years of dealing with noise complaints from neighbors, and is now a more gentrified establishment known as Playland. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Right around the corner and still going strong after all these years, though, is the <a href="http://www.sfgrubstake.com/"><b>Grubstake</b></a> diner (1525 Pine Street), well entrenched as a favored after-hours destination for late night revelers, layabout street rats and tweakers to get their nosh on.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Bringing things back to <span style="font-size: small;">Bowie</span>, some<span style="font-size: small;"> significant events </span>occurred for him here in San Francisco. Bowie and the Spiders from Mars debuted over two nights in October 1972, at the famed <b><a href="http://click.infospace.com/ClickHandler.ashx?du=http%3a%2f%2fcache1.asset-cache.net%2fgc%2f98302704-the-marquee-during-the-last-month-at-gettyimages.jpg%3fv%3d1%26c%3dIWSAsset%26k%3d2%26d%3d9QMziWNtBI6whP66vhs4oSmGDoNmHLCetkkvH%252fcaTF3zgkbGGyaFESRBOmSuKmGcpr7OngrXxtz3%252b5yyC%252fdA7w%253d%253d&ru=http%3a%2f%2fcache1.asset-cache.net%2fgc%2f98302704-the-marquee-during-the-last-month-at-gettyimages.jpg%3fv%3d1%26c%3dIWSAsset%26k%3d2%26d%3d9QMziWNtBI6whP66vhs4oSmGDoNmHLCetkkvH%252fcaTF3zgkbGGyaFESRBOmSuKmGcpr7OngrXxtz3%252b5yyC%252fdA7w%253d%253d&ld=20130406&ap=12&app=1&c=iminentxml2.hmpg.us&s=iminentxml2&coi=372380&cop=main-title&euip=108.202.73.228&npp=12&p=0&pp=0&pvaid=d6e4b480f9924f769da93ed41b035764&ep=12&mid=9&hash=B521C68531F6674D0A0CAB0446DA4485">Winterland Ballroom/Arena</a> (corner of Post and Steiner Streets, in the Fillmore/Japantown district)</b>. Also on the bill were <b>Flo and Eddie</b>, and local sensation <b>Sylvester </b>with his Hot Band. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Despite the serious buzz Ziggy Stardust was creating, Bowie was only able to draw around 500 spectators to the 5,400-capacity Winterland. He reportedly shrugged it off afterwards - <span style="font-size: small;">telling</span> confidants that "San Francisco doesn't need me when they've got Sylvester" - but was clearly stung by the low turnout, enough to exclude the Bay Area as a U.S. tour stop until his <i>Station To Station</i> tour in 1976. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">More successful in terms of furthering Ziggy's name was Bowie's deci<span style="font-size: small;">sion</span> to shoot a promotional film while in town for his upcoming single, 'The Jean Genie'. Directed by iconic photographer <b>Mick Rock</b> and made in one day for allegedly $350, the clip featured performance footage of Bowie and the Spiders shot during both the Winterland engagement and in an actual photo studio. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Of more local interest, however, were the brief bits Rock and Bowie also shot outside the South of Market flophouse known as the <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/9640932@N04/5930670858/"><b>Mars Hotel</b></a>. Bowie, in full Ziggy finery, is seen lounging and smoking <span style="font-size: small;">against <span style="font-size: small;">a</span> corner of the<span style="font-size: small;"> hotel bui<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">ld</span>ing</span></span></span></span>, as a young blonde chickadee struts and vamps along the sidewalk before him. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The blonde in question was</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> part of Bowie's Mainman entourage,</span> one <b>Cyrinda Foxe</b>, soon to become notorious as the girlfriend of David Johansen and subsequently Steven Tyler<span style="font-size: small;">. 'J</span>ean Genie' was released as a single in November 1972, ultimately reaching #2 on the UK charts and #71 in America.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Mars Hotel, located at 192 4th Street at the corner of 4th and Howard in the SOMA (South of Market) area of downtown San Francisco, is of course also legendary as having provided the cover and name for the <b>Grateful Dead </b>disc <i>From The Mars Hotel, </i>released in June of 1974<i>.</i> The hotel was demolished in the 1980's, during the redevelopment that made possible the construction of such buildings as the <b>George Moscone Convention Center,</b> the <b>Metreon Center</b> shopping complex, the <b>Yerba Buena Center for the Arts</b>, and the <b>San Francisco Museum of Modern Art</b>. </span></span><br />
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<br />ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-7611727333157889052012-08-20T17:32:00.000-07:002012-08-20T17:34:10.312-07:00In Memoriam..Though this goes against the tenets of this blogsite, I could not let go the chance to represent for Scott McKenzie, who passed a few days ago. <br />
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This is a typically fine overview of his most famous song by one of the great music writers out there, Jon Savage, in the London Guardian. Godspeed.<br />
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<a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/musicblog/2012/aug/20/scott-mckenzie-san-francisco-anthem?newsfeed=true">http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/musicblog/2012/aug/20/scott-mckenzie-san-francisco-anthem?newsfeed=true</a>ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-57757985383220039152012-06-27T15:31:00.000-07:002012-06-28T12:16:39.250-07:00"San Francisco" (Van Dyke Parks/Brian Wilson)<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>“San Francisco, San Francisco/Her lovers' arms were open wide/With a gate so golden/Waits with charms unfoldin’/Hold that cable car up there with pride/I gotta ride; giddy-up down to…/San Francisco, San Francisco/Where love is true as time and tide/She was seventeen though/when I left from Reno/Like some Valentino with his bride/There by my side…/I panned gold from ‘Cisco down to Frisco/How I'm missin these days of yore…Eldorado/Miss those Irisky women and raw rye whiskey/With each kiss we would explore…Eldorado/For this desperado was gold in the dust/Like many a man in God do I trust/</em><em>Gave up on Eldorado, so lost in my lust/Where love is not for sale/Out at the end of the trail…”</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Been on a bit of a <strong>Beach Boys</strong> jag as of late. What with the improbable detente struck between <strong>Brian Wilson</strong> and <strong>Mike Love</strong>, resulting in their current and, from some reports, quite brilliantly performed 50th anniversary tour. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Then there’s that new LP. I’ve only heard the title track, which is, this far along, an equally improbable beaut: “That’s Why God Made The Radio” may carry tinges of everything from ‘Kiss Me Baby’ to doowop chestnut 'Silhouettes' (on the authority of current BW/BB cohort Probyn Gregory) and, jeez, even John Barry’s <em>Midnight Cowboy</em> theme, but it's still unmistakably as sweet as anything drawn from the fragile but fruitful creative mind of Brian Wilson.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So it felt like the time was right to unearth a song with BW involvement and a theme that strays for once well afar of those mythic Southern Cali shores. It actually comes from a ‘90s collaboration with one of Brian’s most compatibly imaginative musical partners, <strong>Van Dyke Parks</strong>: the album<em> Orange Crate Art</em>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">To be more specific, it’s an album of VDP’s songs with Brian as its featured vocalist. As with many songs in their respective CV’s, the album has its fans and deriders. As for me, at its best VDP’s richly genteel melodies, multilayered and playfully imagistic lyrics, and the topping of (thanks to studio magic) the BW Chorale make for fine listening indeed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Many of the songs on <em>OCA</em>, as stated above, are inspired by Northern California of the past - the world of Steinbeck, London and temporary resident Kerouac. The title track even references the vineyards and agriculture of Sonoma. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As a recent transplant from the East Coast at the time of <em>OCA</em>'s release - one who never traveled far without a little Brian Wilson, in addition to Big Star - the song ‘San Francisco’ became an immediate personal anthem to my new hometown. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Albeit one rather more fancifully articulated than Tony Bennett might (I didn’t quote a typically punny VDP allusion to Candlestick Park - by way of Stephen Crane - in a later part of the song).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In any case, for any faults one might dig for, <em>OCA</em> was Brian and Van Dyke together again, which perhaps therapeutically aided and encouraged Brian’s eventual, post-Millennial re-emergence…for which some of us in this sick old world are most thankful. </span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/5H2ci7BGkpQ" width="420"></iframe>ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-85818021810666595982011-12-04T14:40:00.000-08:002012-07-10T11:33:14.311-07:00'Lazy' (The Nuns, featuring Jennifer Miro)<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><i>August 1977</i>: Through a succession of events too boring and personal to explain here, Your Blogmaster found himself in Southern California during the last handful of weeks of summer, 1977. Over the last few years I’ve been cobbling together notes towards writing a memoir of that time, provisionally titled <i>Midsummer Punk; </i>for now, however, I’ll concentrate on one specific occurrence.</span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The L.A. Punk/Wave community was beginning to make itself known and heard at that time. Not being so clued in as a relative outsider to know about places like the Masque, I was content to check out the few groups I was aware of at that Sunset Strip mainstay, the Whisky A Go Go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">But what shows they were! Using my minimal leverage as an out of town fanzine writer, I managed to finagle a free ticket out of <b>The Ramones</b>’ record company to see them at the Whisky, my first time experiencing them live. I saw two sets in one night; my ears rang for the next thirty-six hours.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">My first Whisky gig, though, was <b>The Dictators</b>, supported by a group from up North, San Francisco’s own <b>Nuns</b>. Handsome Dick and his mob were pimping their ‘comeback’ lp, <i>Manifest Destiny, </i>uneasily caught between the juvenile, ‘teengenerate’ in-crowd humor of their now-classic debut, and wholehearted courting of the Stadium-Rock consuming majority. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">For me, the new Dictators songs - rockers like ‘Steppin’ Out’ and ‘Science Gone Too Far!’, the surprising ‘Hey Boys’ (a Power Ballad before the term existed!) – appealed, and yet...</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Mostly, it seemed like they were trying <em>way</em> too hard; that they also cranked their amps far louder than the confines of the Whisky deserved only added to the alienation of <i>Go Girl Crazy!</i> fans like me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The Nuns were another, far more intriguing ball game altogether. Their lineup was quite the mismatch at first glance. There was <b>Jeff Olener</b>, a loud, foul-mouthed, leather-jacketed post-teenage delinquent. He didn’t so much sing as bellow and bark: in other words, the perfect front man.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Actually, and unusually, there were <i>two</i> front men throwing the songs in the mugs of the assembled L.A. mooks, expectant if unfamiliar with them and their foggy urban spawning ground. Olener’s cohort was one <b>Ritchie Detrick</b>, who was from NYC and (according to the Punk jungle telegraph) had been a roommate of Dee Dee Ramone's. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">But wait, there was a <i>third </i>presence vying for the punkers’ attention: this blonde, model-thin-and-gorgeous creature, wrapped in a black (silk? vinyl? <i>rubber?</i>) trench coat, a Veronica Lake sweep of hair cascading down her face. Her name was <b>Jennifer Miro</b>, and she sat at stage left, playing electric piano and regarding the audience with a glacial gaze that was equal parts contempt and obliviousness.</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Not to say that the rest of the Nuns’ lineup wasn’t as formidable. There was baby-faced <b>Alejandro</b> (back then known just as 'Al') <b>Escovedo</b> on guitar, who has created quite the impressive solo career for himself since those days. There was also <b>Mike Varney</b> on bass: he never really fit in, and in the following decade went on to be a major player and promoter on the Bay Area’s Metal scene.</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Anyway, the Nuns’ set came suitably hard, loud and confrontational, with songs like 'Decadent Jew' and 'Suicide Child' (all together now: ‘<i>you shot my dog, you *effing* hog, you're a suicide child...</i>’). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The opening song, though, provided a serious and most un-Punkish contrast. It was called ‘Lazy’, performed by Jennifer alone on stage; a languid, quarter-to-two saloon closer that one could romantically describe as ‘decadent’. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I am including a later recording of ‘Lazy’, from the Nuns’ only fitfully successful 1980 debut disc for BOMP. Besides obviously being from here, another San Francisco angle could be found in the song’s original lyrics, in which found Miro asserting that the reason for her romantic malaise was due to all the local guys being more interested in each other! (A demo of the original ‘Lazy’ was regularly played, back in the day, on a local FM radio show hosted by out gay DJ, rock writer - and future president of Sire Records - <strong>Howie Klein</strong>.)</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Jennifer Miro, phone home if you overcame your laziness.</span></div>
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And a sad Postscript: Jennifer Miro passed a few weeks ago in New York, of cancer. Here is video of her with the Nuns, playing at Winterland in summer '77, doing 'Lazy' (solo) and 'Savage'. Remember her this way: that walk, that voice, that mien. Wow.</div>
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<br /></div>ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-64708979579472977872011-04-17T14:38:00.000-07:002011-04-17T14:43:06.331-07:00"Let's Go To San Francisco" (The Flowerpot Men)<p style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0in">‘<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><i>Let’s go to San Francisco/where the flowers grow so very high/sunshine in San Francisco/makes your mind grow up to the sky/lots of sun-sun-sunny people/walking hand in hand/they’re not funny people/they have found their land…/let’s go to San Francisco/let the wind blow through your hair/go down to San Francisco/see the love grow on people there/let’s go, let’s go discover it/let‘s go, let‘s go discover it…’</i></span> </p><br /><p style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0in"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When I started this blog, as advertised above, I was conscious about not picking obvious S.F.-related tunes…so, no blissed-out songs from olden days about wearing flowers in the hair, patchouli on your eyelids etc. However, the subject of this episode came out around the same time as Mr. McKenzie’s faded gem, yet has never achieved the ubiquity his paean to hippie-era S.F. did (at least on this side of the Atlantic). And so, since the ultimate purpose of this blog to bring to light locally themed songs that have escaped notice, we present UK one-hit wonders from 1967, </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><b>The Flowerpot Men.</b></span> </p><br /><p style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0in"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Basically the studio conception of Denmark Street denizens John Carter and Ken Lewis, the Flowerpot Men included future members of </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><b>Deep Purple</b></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">, while the lead vocalist was one </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><b>Tony Burrows</b></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. Burrows would go on to a career of fronting other pre-fab Bubblegum pop hitmakers, most notably </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><b>Edison Lighthouse </b></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">and </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><b>White Plains</b></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. Burrows also did the honors on a later Carter/Lewis creation, </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><b>First Class</b></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">’ similarly B. Wilsonesque “Beach Baby” from 1974.</span> </p><br /><p style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0in"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">To anyone in an unreceptive mood, the song’s Beach Boys-meets-Anglican-boys’-choir ambiance might come off as saccharine and dated. Certainly what Carter and Lewis were selling to British pop fans was as much a fantasy as McKenzie’s vision of West Coast runaway Eden (or any Spielberg or Lucas flick for that matter). </span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0in"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And yet: there’s a sense of joy and optimism in this song that speaks to what has drawn people of all stripes and levels of social isolation here for so many years. Such folks were coming here before Hippie, and continued to after that cultural vibe had dissolved. With any luck, similar minds always will.</span> </p><br /><p style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0in"></p><iframe title="YouTube video player" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Ya8TqzPa_bM" frameborder="0" width="480"></iframe>ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-45201746239508454882010-12-11T14:04:00.000-08:002012-07-21T11:53:28.732-07:00'16th And Valencia Roxy Music' (Devendra Banhart)<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><em>"Riding six white horses/Wearing pressed blue jeans/Gonna behead the king/And give the queen everything/Cause tonight, we're gonna find our lover/Tonight, we're gonna find our man/We don't know where to go (We know where to go)/We don't know what to do (we know what to do)...I know I look high/But I'm just freak dancing/ I know I look hypnotized/But I'm just table-tapping/Cause tonight, we </em>ain't <em>gonna find our lover/Tonight, we </em>ain't <em>gonna find our man..."</em> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The intersect of 16th and Valencia Streets in SF's Mission District has been jumping for far longer than I've lived here, perhaps even beyond that. The 16th Street end claims blocks comprising such watering holes as <strong>Delirium</strong> which, in its late 80's/early 90's life as <b>The Albion</b>, harbored a lively microscene of local performance artists and folk-tinted rockers within its backroom. Poetry performances still occasionally take place in adjacent bars like <strong>Dalva</strong> and <strong>Gestalt</strong>, and even joints like sidewalk luncheon spot <strong>Ti Couz</strong>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Another venerable attraction is the comfortably musty <strong>Adobe Books</strong>, once host to an art project formed by organizing the shop's collected stock by the colors on their spines. And while <strong>Dr. Bombay's</strong> (infamous for its Pixie Piss house specialty) has departed the 'hood, the<strong> Roxie Theater</strong> - the City's premier repertory showcase - still packs in discerning movie fans and psychotronic trash hounds alike.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Meanwhile, the perpendicular Valencia side is somewhat tamer than it was in the days when the legendary <strong>Deaf Club</strong> punk dive rocked the block. Geegaw gifteries and boutiques better suited to a Melrose crowd have crept in, neighbored by older, more budget-conscious mainstays like the <strong>Muddy Waters Coffeehouse</strong> and longtime <em>taqueria</em> fave<strong> La Cumbre</strong>. Much like the daily stew of Latinos and Anglos, working class and loft dwellers, crackheads and greedheads that flows along its sidewalks, the businesses here maintain and reflect a sort of resigned coexistence.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I have yet to spot <a href="http://devendrabanhart.com/"><strong>Devendra Banhart</strong></a> strolling 16th and Valencia, although I have seen him all the way across town and closer to GG Park, wandering amidst the Asian markets and dim sum houses found on Clement Street (as well as one of the City's best printed-word dealers, <strong>Green Apple Books</strong>), sometimes in the company of minstrel pal and Avenues resident <strong>Andy Cabic</strong> from the group Vetiver. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Banhart is very much a polarizing artist, and I can understand aspects of why people both like and loathe him and his music. The positive, neohippie outlook of his personality - as expressed in interviews and in performance - can be as offputting as the enthusiasm and restlessness with which he embraces a wide spectrum of musical influence is exciting and attractive.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Yet if one is open to it, there are gems scattered amongst Banhart's output thus far, of which <strong>'16th And Valencia Roxy Music'</strong> - from his 2009 major label debut <em>What Will We Be</em> - is a personal favorite.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">For all the 'freak-folk', Old Weird arcane agrarian hoohah that's been kicked up in Banhart's wake, this song was a genuine surprise. A chugging, honest-to-goodness Pop Song, it fizzes in the way a properly constructed and executed, contemporary pop/rock nugget should. Banhart's feline purr, so often compared to Marc Bolan, for once does that comparison justice within this brightly shaded setting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">And if the cutesy, locally colored pun perhaps adds to the ammo of Banhart deriders, it's actually appropriate, given that the song inverts the scenario found on Ferry and cohorts' classic 'Love Is The Drug'.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">For instead of charting the successful catching of that love buzz, this song's hero may start off optimistic about the potential pleasures of the Mission, but in Banhart's twist, ends up in that all too common date-night state: dissipated and empty-pocketed, with testicles the color of robin's eggs.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/dOIpoJZcbgI" width="420"></iframe></span></div>ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-78468249462935271422010-10-24T13:42:00.000-07:002010-12-19T12:26:08.834-08:00'Mission In The Rain' (Emory Joseph)<p><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><i>'Ten years ago I walked this street, my dreams were riding tall/Tonight I would be thankful Lord, for any dreams at all/Some folks would be happy just to have one dream come true/But everything you gather is just more that you can lose/All the things I planned to do, I only did half way/Tomorrow will be Sunday, born of rainy Saturday/There's some satisfaction in the San Francisco rain/</i><i>No matter what comes down, the <span style="font-weight: normal;">Mission </span>always looks the same/walking along in the Mission in the rain..." (lyric by Robert Hunter)<br /></i></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">It's a late October Sunday here, and the rain has been steadily pissing down for the past 24 or so hours. Which in certain parts of town that are home to sports bars, or any bar with a TV really, will help wash away whatever technicolor effluence collected in the curbs and sidewalks outside such estabs last night, commemorating the Giants' playoff win.</span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But today promises to be sobering and depressingly damp, which gives me the perfect excuse to put up this song. Not for its associations with a certain 'legendary' local group (and we </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >promise</span> our dear readers not to make a habit of it). More really for this particular version by a more contemporary local singer/songster. </span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">Emory Joseph</span> capably captures the mixed emotions, the mope and magic, about spending a day out in the rain, head full of insecure plans and dreams, with no special purpose but to absorb the vibe of the storefronts and enduring culture of the Mission District.</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(listen to excerpt or dl)</span></p><p><a href="http://ka2music.com/artist-emory-joseph/album-fennario-409375.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://ka2music.com/artist-emory-joseph/album-fennario-409375.html</span></a></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Official website:</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="http://www.emoryjoseph.com/">http://www.emoryjoseph.com</a></span></p><p><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(And for a more detailed personal view of the Mission... a piece by yours truly, from the great UK ezine </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Tangents</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">)</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">'Paradise Found In A Lost Weekend'</span><br /><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://www.tangents.co.uk/tangents/main/2004/nov/sf.html">http://www.tangents.co.uk/tangents/main/2004/nov/sf.html</a> </p>ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-91132773879050896772010-08-01T17:44:00.000-07:002012-07-21T11:52:48.851-07:00‘Russian Hill’ (Jellyfish)<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;">“I dreamt about a tranquil Sunday drive/A sensory lullaby/We trade the comics, cartoons, and magazines/For pistons and gasoline/…Past cathedrals filled with God's favorite guests/Dirty hands feel clean when dressed in their Sunday best/Tree-lined village oh so heavenly/Cross a bridge of gold to landscapes of juniper/Watch the clouds turn into faces, it's fun to play/Shift the gears for years and age a single day/Until we spill/onto Russian Hill…”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">By the summer of 1993 I had been living in San Francisco for little over a year, and not exactly having the best time of it. With no dayjobs attainable, I had signed onto the city’s GA (for General Assistance) program.<br /><br />A last resort for the underclass of the city, GA provided twice-monthly stipends that were still never enough to maintain steady room and board. Usually it covered a week at one of the downtown firetrap flophouses along Sixth Street (‘at the corner of Crack and Drive-By’, as a <a href="http://facebook.com/doug.ferrari">local stand-up comic and onetime fellow resident</a> put it). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">When inevitably kicked out, I’d sleep in friends’ cars, or in the camouflaging bushes of Golden Gate Park. I’d also busk in the Upper Haight, making enough to afford my then staple diet of microwave burritos and 40-ouncers, basically toughing it out until the next GA check arrived.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Among the reasons I moved to S.F. was to somehow get in on the local music scene, and in the year I’d been here managed to get sufficiently up to speed to be conversant. The big commercial buzz in town at the time was being generated by two groups. One was a hard-rocking clique of Mission/Lower Haight party girls called <span style="font-weight: bold;">4 Non-Blondes</span>. They were led by your proverbial little lady with a big voice, the floppy-hatted, exotically inked <span style="font-weight: bold;">Linda Perry</span>. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The other was a quartet of flamboyantly attired power-poppers known as <span style="font-weight: bold;">Jellyfish</span>. The latter band was disdained by the local community for the pompish excesses of their tunes. This, combined with their candy-colored Krofft Brothers/Seuss/West Coast rave look, put me off more than a bit on first hearing/viewing. Later immersions that revealed a deft flair for harmonies involving the entire group, along with solid live covers of</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> chestnuts</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> from Badfinger and the Move, softened my opinion somewhat.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">One rare sunny midsummer Sunday afternoon, while lolling around the Panhandle with that day’s 40 and burrito, I heard Jellyfish’s song<span style="font-weight: bold;"> “Russian Hill”</span> (from their latest and, as it happened, final disc <span style="font-style: italic;">Spilt Milk</span>) on KUSF, </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">the University of S.F.’s FM station</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">. It </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">made quite the impression, conjuring an atmosphere that fit the moment.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Based in a slow guitar strum, like a major-key take on Nick Drake’s "River Man", on a drifting cushion of strings, flutes and ghostly Garcia pedal steel, lead singer and (Moe Tucker-like standup) drummer <span style="font-weight: bold;">Andy Sturmer</span> relates a dream.<br /><br />Driving from town across the GG Bridge into the Headlands of Marin County, then back to where the infamous downgrade of Lombard Street and Armistead Maupin's fictional Barbary Lane both reside. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Only in the final verse does Sturmer discover, on awakening, that he’d been at his title destination all along. Or maybe not.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">That day, with all the nonsense occupying my mind, thoughts and fears of future survival, “Russian Hill” helped restore (for a time lasting the length of the song, anyway) my fantasies and ambitions towards making as proper a home here as I possibly could. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Since then, Andy Sturmer has been a major player in the career of J-pop duo <span style="font-weight: bold;">Puffy AmiYumi.</span> His Jellyfish partner <span style="font-weight: bold;">Roger Manning</span> has done records like <span style="font-style: italic;">The Moog Cookbook</span>. Linda Perry of 4 Non-Blondes, meanwhile, is now a for-hire songwriter for other little girls with big voices - close, but no <span style="font-weight: bold;">Ellie Greenwich</span>.</span><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/_GUqHLMKjBc" width="420"></iframe>ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-24259200519524036092010-06-22T14:13:00.000-07:002015-02-08T12:23:41.646-08:00'Get It Right' (Rhon Silva aka Fillmore Slim)<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%;">California-based record label </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://stonesthrow.com/">Stones Throw</a></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%;"><a href="http://stonesthrow.com/"> </a>has blessed fans of vintage funk, soul and hiphop with many a choice salvage effort over the years. First I was aware of was their </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%; font-style: italic;">Funky 16 Corners</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%;"> collection, which still sounds effortlessly danceable and groove imbued, and seeing there‘s at least <a href="http://funky16corners.com/">one blog in Cyberspace </a>which shares its name with this disc, I’m clearly not alone in my altogether high opinion.<br /><br />ST mainmen </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%; font-weight: bold;">Egon, <a href="http://myspace.com/pbwolf">Peanut Butter Wolf </a></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%;">and cohorts do have an unassailable gift for pulling some serious gems from the landfill of regional music history, be it national or worldwide; check out ST's recent Eastern European funk collections (yes, you read right).<br /><br />It's been a cratedigger's delight to witness the exemplary work in the salvage field that ST and labels like the <a href="http://numerogroup.com/">Numero Group </a>and <a href="http://lightintheattic.net/">Light In The Attic</a> have been doing. Now another company, <a href="http://nowagainrecords.com/">Now Again</a>, seems to be stepping up, given the evidence of their recently released <span style="font-style: italic;">California Funk </span>anthol.<span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%;"><br /><br />It compiles twenty-one cuts from small independent North and South Cali-based labels, primarily from the early 70’s. Local combos drawing from the wellsprings of </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%; font-weight: bold;">JB, Sly, Marvin</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%;">, </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%; font-style: italic;">barrio</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%;"> jams, recorded mostly on the cheap, with 7-inchers hawked out of car trunks or on card tables in the back of clubs these groups frequented on the weekends. Quite the haul of superfine funky wax, Golden State variety, to be sure.<br /><br />Favorite cuts change from day to day, as they do: one day it might be King Saloman’s pinpoint satire 'Politician Rag', another day John Heartsman's smooth Lou Rawls knockoff. Or maybe this almost New Wave-anticipating instrumental workout, 'Smokin’ Tidbits' by the Edwards Generation. But right now I’m especially taken with </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%; font-weight: bold;">Rhon Silva</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%;">’s horndog inner city S.F. travelogue </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%; font-weight: bold;">'Get it Right'</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%;">.<br /><br />Raggedy, conga-driven hucklebuck/Funky Broadway propulsion powers our man’s nocturnal creep. Silva starts off in the Haight-Ashbury, making sure to load up on ‘</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%; font-style: italic;">some sike-a-delic guitar…doin’ it </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%;">hippie</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%; font-style: italic;"> style, y’all</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%;">’ (and it‘s true, albeit more of a BB King meets Jorma six string thing). Proceeding down hilly Hayes Street and Van Ness Avenue into the Tenderloin, in his Eldorado Biarritz, leaning on the armrest, Silva’s cruising and looking for his baby. There is <span style="font-style: italic;">no doubt</span>, with that car, with that musical backdrop, that he'll find who he's looking for. </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%;"><br /><br />Further research reveals that this guy definitely knew his way around this city’s less genteel zones in his time. Rhon Silva is in fact the recording pseudonym (one of a few, in fact) taken by a gent better known as </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%; font-weight: bold;">Fillmore Slim</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%;">, right around then one of the City’s most notorious pimps. He even showed up in a 1999 documentary called </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%; font-style: italic;">American Pimp</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%;">.<br /><br />Long out of that business after time in prison, Slim still plays music, as a regular performer in local blues joints like the formerly John Lee Hooker-approved Boom Boom Room.<br /><br />Regardless of that outcome, ‘Get It Right’ is a 7” slice of Bay Area life that I’d bet both Max Julien </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%; font-style: italic;">and</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%;"> Ron O’Neal would have approved of.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%; font-weight: bold;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Bz0ht7957ag" width="420"></iframe></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-size: 100%;"><a href="http://www.zero-inch.com/artist/Rhon__Silva/track/Get_It_Right/146865"></a></span>ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-12444000800284691972010-06-04T12:56:00.000-07:002010-06-04T16:49:13.839-07:00‘San Francisco’s Doomed’ (CRIME)<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">Spring to fall of 1976 was, ah um, </span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >eventful</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"> personally speaking. One of the most zeitgeistically savvy pals I was lucky enough to hang with at the time was a gent named <strong>Kim Kane</strong>.<br /><br />Kim sported jet black, waist length hair and a Ming/Manchu beard atop a tubercular, mantis-like frame, and when it came to rock and roll, the <em>real stuff</em>, he was a true believer and avid proselytizer. Kim played guitar in the <a href="http://earcandymag.com/rrcase-slickee.htm">Slickee Boys</a>, one of pitifully few bands in the Washington DC area to even acknowledge a world beyond early dinosaur arena tarpit fillers, Southern boogie and prog-rock, never mind disco. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">People who were interested in the same sort of music and cultural impulse found each other, if not quickly, eventually during those days. The guys (and girl) that comprised Kim’s band did and, in the process, even connected with management: a DJ on the Georgetown University FM station feeding diverse outsider musical lifeblood to us with ears (and the gray matter between them) to listen up.</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">Many afternoons, and a few evenings after getting off from my wage slave gig at a local ice cream parlor, were spent over at </span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >chez</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"> Kane in Bethesda, Md., up in Kim‘s attic bedroom. There he gladly turned me on to countless sounds from a ginormous record collection: everything from rare 60's Asian garage combos and backwoods Southern rockabilly, to the newly revitalizing rock coming from Boston, New York, London and elsewhere.</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">One day I fell by his place and, as usual on my visits, Kim wasted no time in throwing a 45 on his battered component turntable, and its picture sleeve in my face. “You won’t </span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >believe</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"> these guys! They’re from San Francisco, one’s called <strong>Frankie Fix</strong> and another guy’s <strong>Johnny Strike</strong>!”</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">The room soon exploded in a sound like flick knives mating in an aluminum trashcan, with Johnny? Frankie? pouting out words that I only deciphered bit by bit. Something about tribulation and the radio; </span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >maybe</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"> a reference to that Ramones group Kim had gone to see a month before. Then Johnny and Frankie and the rest of their droogy, hoodie gang with guitars spat out the title phrase a few times, before retreating back to their highstrung mung.</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">We both sat there, Kim and I, listening to <strong>‘Hot Wire My Heart’</strong> by<strong> <a href="http://dementlieu.com/users/obik/arc/crime/misc_19771217.html">CRIME</a></strong><a href="http://dementlieu.com/users/obik/arc/crime/misc_19771217.html"> </a>(for it was they), mouths agape. 'Gob smacked’, as the Brits say. Holy </span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >crap</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">, we blurted to each other in delighted amazement, what a </span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >mess</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">, the guitars barely sound in tune, the drums aren’t even</span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" > in time</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"> till the chorus…</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">Play that again. No, </span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >both</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"> sides.</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">Revered and reviled by all strata of Bay Area music fans</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">, CRIME were everything a rock group should be: they didn’t give a flying, dressed great, and played loud, obnoxious, unforgettable beat noise. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">Theirs was a strain of sonic virulence that could only have slinked out of a San Francisco that was (and remains) convivial to Tenderloin trash and South Of Market sleaze. Definitely </span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >not</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"> a sound that could have emanated from the miniature wetlands of Mill Valley, or the hot-tub </span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >nouveau riche</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"> playground of Marin.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"><strong>‘San Francisco’s Doomed’</strong> was one of many CRIME anthems (some would say </span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >all</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"> CRIME songs were anthems of a sort). As with those few rock songs that count as truly stellar, it’s difficult to make out most of the words, which only throws into relief how the clatter and raucousness of the music expresses all that the words don’t. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">Utterly vile. And utterly fantastic.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"><a href="http://myspace.com/crimetime">Johnny Strike and CRIME</a> are still around, as this accompanying clip of them doing the song in question ably documents. So is Kim Kane. Both gentlemen deserve to be held in the utmost contrarian cultural esteem.</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/V_vefKbrQnE&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/V_vefKbrQnE&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-11583774929064465232010-05-18T18:35:00.000-07:002010-06-05T11:01:47.255-07:00'I'm Always Drunk In San Francisco'<span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Fall 2005: So it came to pass (at least, once upon a time) I found a job at a local sightseeing tour company. On Fisherman’s freakin Wharf no less.<br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >‘The epicenter of culture in SF’, as a deeply knowing, gifted local social satirist, <a href="http://johnnysteele.com/">Johnny Steele</a>, once ironically though accurately observed.<br /><br />Trust me <em>and </em>Johnny, out of townie folks, Fisherman’s Wharf is the <em>last</em> place to go; the last stop as a foreign tourist to do nothing but load up on ephemeral geegaws to take back or send to the family back home.<br /><br />That said, there are a few halfway decent seafood restaurants along the piers (I recommend Alioto’s), as well as wondrous secret places like the Musee Mechanique, with its array of vintage coin-operated devices offering nothing but fun and a chance to be transported to childhood for awhile.<br /><br />So it was there I toiled and earned somewhat of a living for awhile, taking photos of riders, haggling with potential tour goers when the impending motorized cablecar bus was already full to capacity, regularly hearing their standard bleating inquiry: ‘So…how long <em>is</em> the two hour trip?’<br /><br />What lessened the tension and stress were those tour guides blaring tunes off their vehicles to attract the </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >touristas</span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >. One older and most adept tour guide would play a cd mix of one of the more locally relevant classics of sorts, your Tony Bennett and whatnot.<br /><br />Given his visible enjoyment of his job (which I would only feel on, oh, the third day of each week), I trusted his judgment. In fact, he was responsible for turning me on to a song I’d never heard before.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">“I’m Always Drunk In San Francisco”</span> is a silky as sin blues number, written by one <strong>Tommy Wolf</strong>. Wolf was a pop songwriting lifer who also had a hand in neon cocktail lounge jazz chestnuts like “Spring Can Hang You Up the Most”. It’s a minor but known choon that’s been covered by folks like <strong>Carmen McRae</strong> and <strong>Nancy Wilson</strong>.<br /><br />If nothing else, it’s possessed of an absotively </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >killer</span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" > punch line, which makes me think of the morning after times, the mornings of sun glare, hunger and corporeal <em>truth</em>…that call to mind the initial urge of what brought me here to SF in the first.<br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >In specificity, of one night outside the City’s Punchline comedy club to see another worthy, intelligently funny performer and ace social commentator, <a href="http://willdurst.com/">Will Durst</a>.<br /><br />I stood outside after his set, having a smoke and absorbing the illuminated buildings surrounding and shielding on the close side of midnight, rising above downtown, reinforcing its skyline.<br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >I was moved to blurt, to no one really, ‘this is why I moved here, what’s <em>precious </em>about this town’.<br /><br />Behind me, I heard the voice of Mr. Durst himself say, ‘me too’.<br /><br />"I'm Always Drunk In San Francisco":<br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=poqjPPn66xQ">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=poqjPPn66xQ</a></span>ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24362112.post-6550565299119716282010-03-16T18:50:00.001-07:002010-06-04T13:54:28.682-07:00By Way of Intro<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">This is intended to be a blog inspired by the blogs <a href="http://thenewyorknobodysings.blogspot.com/">THE NEW YORK NOBODY SINGS </a>and its across-the-pond response from veteran UK fanzine maven and wordsmith Kevin Pearce, <a href="http://thelondonnobodysings.blogspot.com/">THE LONDON NOBODY SINGS</a>.<br /><br />Posts to follow very shortly. Hope you enjoy...<br /><br />ML Heath/san francisco/march 16 2010</span>ML Heathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10724958587758975096noreply@blogger.com1