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SOUTHERN CULTURE ON THE SKIDS AND FRED SCHNEIDER: PARTY AT MY TROUSE

(YEP ROC RECORDS 12” EP; 2015)

Party At My Trouse

The limited edition 7” sensation from last year’s Record Store Day is back, with remixes of both the A and B sides. So, by this time, most of you know that I’m an old school kinda music guy; my feelings regarding remixes is simple: If everybody thought that the version that was released first was the best, why is everybody else tellin’ them they’re wrong by offering up their own fixes? Having said that, while I definitely prefer the two originals, these remixes aren’t too bad. The first (and closest to the original) “Party At My Trouse” is a sonically imposing trashy mash-up of styles, with the Skids’ Mary Huff playing both Kate and Cindy, the twin leads of the B-52’s, to Fred Schneider’s white trash lothario. Fred does his backwoods best to sweep Mary off her feet and into his bed with such sure-fire lines as, “C’mon, Mary, shake yer frisky biscuits/Everybody likes her frisky biscuits.” Though there is a definite nod to the B’s “Love Shack,” this is more like some good ol’ SCOTS gut-bucket rock ‘n’ roll than one of the former’s new wave dance frenzies. You don’t have to occupy a trouse – half trailer, half house, all party – to shake your butt (or your frisky biscuits) to this infectious groove.

Southern Culture On the Skids (Dave Hartman, Rick Miller, Mary Huff) (promotional photo)
Southern Culture On the Skids (Dave Hartman, Rick Miller, Mary Huff) (promotional photo)

Hey, Mary” has a slinky be-bop, Reverend Horton Heat sorta vibe as Fred and the SCOTS-men (Dave Hartman and Rick Miller) attempt to chat up Mary, only to be rebuffed… shot down in flames, one after the other. The bumbling, tongue-tied guys (as is every man when they try to talk to a pretty woman) are rejected by a simple but emphatic “No,” causing each and every male of the species in hearing distance of the tune to recoil, fist to their mouths in a collective “Ohhh!” as we pretend to be looking at the cat poster on the wall, the spider-web in the corner, the lint in our navel… anything but the poor sap in full retreat, tail between his legs. The number is highlighted by a twangy guitar, boisterous bass line and a wicked, garagey Farfisa organ.

Fred Schneider (uncredited photo)
Fred Schneider (uncredited photo)

The “Uptown Explosion Remix” (by Alap Momin and Jon Spencer… yeah, THAT Jon Spencer) of “Party In My Trouse” is a compressed sounding thingy with a weird dance vibe. There’s a lot of reverb and echo and other patented Jon Spencer lo-fi trickery going on. I actually kinda like this one; if this version had been released first, I could see it as MY definitive version, but… Clocking in at more than two minutes longer than the original, the “Skidz Mix” of “Party… ” (track 5 here) features some fuzzy, funky, skittering guitar and a bumpin’ bass. The vocals are sorta muffled, though Fred somehow sounds even more lecherous than on the other versions. Again, if this had been the original release, I think I coulda lived with it. The second version of “Hey, Mary” featured here, the “DJ King Smoothie Remix,” wanders into dance club territory with close to four extra minutes of a Santana-like psychedelic guitar riff over a butt-movin’ samba groove. So, yeah, I am not the biggest fan of remixes (for the reason mentioned above), but when they are as much fun as the five on this EP, I’m not gonna complain.

NICO AND VINZ: BLACK STAR ELEPHANT

(WARNER BROTHERS RECORDS/5 STAR ENTERTAINMENT; 2014)

Nico and Vinz cover

Norwegian pop duo Nico and Vinz (Kahouly Nicolay Sereba and Vincent Dery, formerly known as Envy) blend danceable new wave vibes (there is more than a cursory nod to the Police and their rock-Reggae-ska hybrid), a retro New Jack soul cool and an urban hip-hop swagger with their Ghanian and Ivorian musical heritage. The vibrant aural stew of BLACK STAR ELEPHANT is joyful, inspirational and something that is utterly… Nico and Vinz.

After a brief “(Intro),” the album’s lead single, “Am I Wrong” (which went Top 5 on BILLBOARD’s Hot 100 Singles chart), gives the album legs right from the get-go. While the guitar riff and melody line are straight out of the Police hit “Message In a Bottle,” the tune has more of an American urban pop sound, featuring the duo’s faultless vocals, an unobtrusive but effective horn chart and an infusion of African percussion. “Last Time” has a little more of an uptown, Bronx sound in the vocals, lyrics and overall groove. It makes this old heart happy when you can actually hear a sense of jubilation in a voice and, here, you can almost see the brilliant smiles on the faces of the background singers (Nico and Vinz, themselves, along with Elisabeth Carew). Though it has yet to be released as a single, this one has Top 40 radio supremacy written all over it. “(Leave Us)” is a short, spoken word outro to “Last Time,” with an ominous male voice (African, I’m guessing, by the dialect) that intones a warning, “You have to go.” I’m thinking that many of these short interludes come from a movie (maybe THE GOOD LIE, as the soundtrack features a track from Nico and Vinz and the albums were delivered to me in the same package). The next song, “Know What I’m Not,” sorta reminds me of Peter Gabriel’s “Senegalese period,” at least instrumentally. The song has an infectious melody; the vocals have a slight resemblance to Police-era Sting, with just a dash of doo-wop style scatting. “Miracles,” another beautifully upbeat lyrical piece, begins with a bit of down-home pickin’ (which remains the main musical touch point throughout the track) before adding some minor key piano chords and a combination of acoustic and electronic percussion to sweeten the already brilliant musical pot.

Nico and Vinz (photo credit: SARA MCCOLGAN)
Nico and Vinz (photo credit: SARA MCCOLGAN)

A bit of neo-Zydeco goofiness, “(New In Town),” leads straight into “My Melody,” an atmospheric number with lyrics delivered in the Mumuye language of Nigeria and Cameroon (as identified elsewhere). There’s a nice Reggae-sounding break before the English verses, which features a heartfelt rap about dreams and reality that could come off as just another “woe-is-me” rhyme, but there’s a definite sense of hope shining through. “(Powerful)” is a philosophical interlude that leads into “Another Day,” a sing-songy rap about overcoming (or, at least, surviving) the struggles of life: “Another day goes by/And I thank God that I’m alive.” “People” is more Police-like Euro-Reggae about… living; the song is just flat-out inspirational (“People will always be people to me/We do wrong, we do right”). It features a cool backward guitar (or is that… an accordion?). Speaking of cool guitar, “Runnin’” has one that sounds oddly Frippian in tone. The descending bass line and piano really add a nice touch and what can I say about those vocals? They are continually upbeat, joyous and infectious. “Imagine” is a slow groove with a Bob Marley kinda vocal. The backing vocals are highlighted by some awesome throat singing; this is one instance where the rap sorta ruins the overall vibe of the song. The album’s second single, “In Your Arms,” seems like an obvious bid for a Top 40 hit (probably at the behest of the record label), with a definite Bruno Mars thing happening. Despite that, I actually think the tune isn’t all that bad.

Nico and Vinz (photo credit: SARA MCCOLGAN)
Nico and Vinz (photo credit: SARA MCCOLGAN)

Homeless” is a jaunty little folk thing, with harmonica(skillfully provided by Ntirelang Berman), acoustic guitar and a more uplifting message than the name implies. There’s some great harmonizing (with other voices and with nature) on “(Lakota),” the rain-soaked intro to the funky “Thought I Knew.” An excellent arrangement and orchestration inform the number, with understated guitars, nice percussion and a cool bridge with piano, cello and violins. A cosmic sounding “(Arrival)” urges, “My son, use the knowledge and sing your song.” And, sing he does, accompanied by piano, fretless bass and a guitar that would not seem out of place on a King Crimson record, on a tune called “When the Day Comes.” It’s another joyous exclamation, punctuated by more great African percussion and amazing background vocals. “(Kokadinye)” is a beautiful lullaby with suitably subtle guitar. The interlude leads into the spiraling, thumping groove of “Imaa Imaa,” with its nods to such groups as Osibisa and the Ebony Rhythm Funk Campaign… even a touch of El Chicano and mid-’60s psychedelic pop. The song is a terrific album closer.

Nico and Vinz (photo credit: SARA MCCOLGAN)
Nico and Vinz (photo credit: SARA MCCOLGAN)

The production on the record is split between William Wiik Larsen (who also goes by the moniker Will IDAP) and Thomas Eriksen, with the interludes produced and performed by Raymond and Kouame Sereba (Nico’s brothers?). Eriksen and Larsen also provide most of the instrumentation and programming on the tracks they are credited as producers, with some help from various musicians and backing singers along the way. This is such a great album and Nico and Vinz appear to be as likeable and uplifting as their music; I have to hope that this much deserved success doesn’t go to their heads and adversely effect their music. That would certainly be a shame.

WHAT’S IT TO ME, ANYWAY?: THE 25 ALBUMS THAT MOST INFLUENCED MY LIFE, PART 1

(Ruminations of a music junkie, by KEVIN RENICK)

Hey everyone, it’s 2015! Didja notice? Yep, it’s a symmetrical year three fourths of the way through the first fifth of the new millennium! I find that this is making me, and plenty of other people I’ve spoken to, think about numbers, halfway points, anniversaries, etc. For me, this year marks the major anniversary of a lot of key things in my life and career, and I plan to write about some of those right here at the Mule. It’s gonna be fun, so saddle up and take this trip with me, through the past, smartly! Not that I feel like acknowledging my age or anything, but I would say I have been a true “music fan” for 50 years now. As a bonafide baby boomer, I grew up in the ’60s listening to all that classic stuff that makes the “Best Ever” lists these days. Sometime in 1965, probably after the Beatles’ RUBBER SOUL album came out, I became aware of music in a bigger way than before. It was no longer just the radio hits my sisters were listening to incessantly on AM, now they were buying albums (mostly the Beatles at first), and the repeated playing of these began to affect my young ears with increasing intensity. I love melodies and good singing, and everyone at the time was into the Beatles. A new era was upon us, and it was exhilarating.

What I thought I would do to celebrate my 50 years of being an active listener, is pick the 25 albums that influenced me the most. Here at the Mule, we like to take things personally, that’s why a conventional list of “Best of All Time” or “Best of the Decade,” that kinda thing, is not much fun to do. Stuff like that is all over the web or in your latest issue of ROLLING STONE. And though fun, that kind of clinical exercise can get tedious. But if I tell you I’m going to make a list of 25 albums that truly affected my life, that either set something in motion, changed me or altered my musical taste in some way, well, I get all tingly just thinking about that. The list could be much longer, of course, but it’s important to have parameters. And I like the symmetry of “25 in 50,” ie: The 25 recordings that had the greatest personal impact in 50 years of listening. You will encounter some of the great classics in here, and you’ll also read about stuff you never heard of. Maybe you’ll be shocked that there are no Dylan, Rolling Stones or Beach Boys albums on my list. I’ll say it again, this is NOT a list of the most influential albums, period. It’s a list of what most influenced ME, and made my musical life what it is. This is a thoughtful, personal exercise, and I hope you’ll enjoy sharing it with me. Maybe it will encourage some of you to think about what music most made a difference to YOU, and affected your personality the most. Fun, right? Making something all about YOU is more honest and real than those tedious “Best of” lists. So, here we go. These albums will roughly be listed in the order that I encountered them, although I can’t absolutely swear to that. But… all of these works helped make me whatever and whoever the heck I am today. Enjoy!

1. THE BEATLES: REVOLVER

REVOLVER (CAPITOL RECORDS, 1966)
REVOLVER (CAPITOL RECORDS, 1966)

Although SERGEANT PEPPER… is usually cited as the greatest Beatles album, the 1966 classic REVOLVER had a bigger impact on me. It was the Fabs entering their psychedelic period, and my sisters, Therese and Pam, played this album all the time. I was fascinated by the unusual sounds on it (“Tomorrow Never Knows” was utterly hypnotic, as were the strings on “Eleanor Rigby”), and classic gems of songcraft like “Good Day Sunshine,” “I Want To Tell You” and “Got To Get You Into My Life” became lodged firmly in my young mind. I feel sad for people who never know the experience of growing up with a classic album like this.

How it influenced me: Gave me perhaps my first experience of enjoying an album all the way through, with melodies and sounds that seeped deep into my brain.

2. THE BEATLES: THE BEATLES (WHITE ALBUM)

THE BEATLES (APPLE RECORDS, 1968)
THE BEATLES (APPLE RECORDS, 1968)

Barely two years after REVOLVER, the Beatles had evolved so much that it was almost dizzying to a budding music fan at the time. By 1968, only my sister Therese was still home among my siblings, and this album got constant play. It was a weird, unsettling, enthralling experience to listen to it back then. I vividly remember a couple of times when I fell asleep on the extra bed in Therese’s room absorbing the strange, diverse tracks on this album. Each side had a unique flow; some songs rocked out (“Back in the USSR,” “Glass Onion”), some songs were folksy and pretty (“Mother Nature’s Son,” “Julia”) and some were scary and from a place I yearned to know more about (“Long Long Long,” “Revolution 9”) What a remarkable sonic journey this double album took fans on! Nobody at the time talked about the “divisions” within the Beatles, or how “self-indulgent” the album was. We simply ate it up, listened with fascination, and marveled at the new age of rock that was now dawning.

How it influenced me: The first massive song collection I ever lost myself in, with unforgettable moments across the musical spectrum, including the first moments on record to scare the crap out of me (the moaning sounds at the end of “Long Long Long” and the entire “Revolution 9”). Hearing dark, weird sounds on a record began for me, oddly, with the Fab Four.

3. THE MONKEES: PISCES, AQUARIUS, CAPRICORN AND JONES, LIMITED

PISCES, AQUARIUS, CAPRICORN AND JONES, LIMITED (COLGEMS RECORDS, 1967)
PISCES, AQUARIUS, CAPRICORN AND JONES, LIMITED (COLGEMS RECORDS, 1967)

In the late 60s, the Monkees were the OTHER band that captured the lion’s share of attention in my circles. We all knew the hits like we knew the shrubs in our front yard, and we watched the MONKEES TV show faithfully. This 1967 album was a superb collection of tunes that got constant play in my neighborhood. The previous Monkees albums seemed more like collections of big hits, but this one headed into some new territory. “Star Collector” was downright psychedelic, and Davy Jones sang it! “Pleasant Valley Sunday” was simply one of the best songs ever, ever, ever, one of the first songs to become a solid favorite for me. And many others stood out, like the minor-key laden “Words,” the Nesmith classic “What Am I Doing Hangin’ Round” and the Nilsson gem “Cuddly Toy,” which, decades later, would become a song I would sometimes perform live when I became a musician myself.

How it influenced me: A solid soundtrack to my childhood, full of innocence, whimsy and suburban dreams.

4. TOMMY JAMES AND THE SHONDELLS: THE BEST OF…

THE BEST OF TOMMY JAMES AND THE SHONDELLS (ROULETTE RECORDS, 1969)
THE BEST OF TOMMY JAMES AND THE SHONDELLS (ROULETTE RECORDS, 1969)

From 1967 to 1970, Tommy James was a fixture on radio, with classic hit after classic hit. They were often in the summer, becoming wondrous summer classics like “Crystal Blue Persuasion” and “Crimson and Clover.” At every swimming pool where radio was in the background, Tommy James was a part of the atmosphere. And the first song I ever declared to be my personal favorite, was “Sweet Cherry Wine.” This song absolutely captivated me, and I would sometimes wait for it to come on the radio, getting very emotional when it did. It was a beautifully produced song, with background vocals that got under my skin and never left my memory. THE BEST OF TOMMY JAMES AND THE SHONDELLS was, I believe, the first album I bought with my own money. It’s possible a Monkees album preceded it in that regard; memory can be sketchy. But it was unquestionably the first hits collection I ever bought, and the first non Beatles or Monkees music to get repeat play in my life. A soundtrack for the year 1969 in particular.

How it influenced me: The sound of the last year before I became a teenager. The first record to actively make me aware of the magic of background vocals. A collection of songs I truly, truly could listen to over and over.

5. SIMON AND GARFUNKEL: BOOKENDS and BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER (tie)

BOOKENDS (COLUMBIA RECORDS, 1968); BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER (COLUMBIA RECORDS, 1970)
BOOKENDS (COLUMBIA RECORDS, 1968); BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER (COLUMBIA RECORDS, 1970)

If you become a musician, some influences don’t become apparent to you right away; you might have to work on developing your style and think about the kinds of songs you want to do, before the stylistic touchstones become obvious. I grew up with Simon and Garfunkel, and all but their first album were regular spins at our home in Kirkwood. Most of their songs struck me as sad, intimate and evocative, and the musical personality they presented… the tight harmonies, the sometimes quirky lyrics… was vivid and powerful. These two albums affected me about equally, the former for its melancholy musings on the passing of time (“Old Friends,” “Bookends”) and quirky sing-alongs (“Hazy Shade of Winter,” “At the Zoo”), the latter for its epic production and exhilarating musical dramas (“Cecilia,” “El Condor Pasa,” “The Boxer,” the title track). This was one of a clutch of albums I listened to a great deal with an early girlfriend in 1972; such things stay with you. Years later, I fell in love with a girl actually NAMED Cecilia, and that song became significant in a very personal way. More importantly, Paul Simon’s songwriting stood out for me as artful, impactful stuff, and he is one of the composers I always mention as an influence on my own music and aesthetic.

6. CROSBY, STILLS, NASH AND YOUNG: DEJA VU

DEJA VU (ATLANTIC RECORDS, 1970)
DEJA VU (ATLANTIC RECORDS, 1970)

They were called the “first big supergroup,” “the American Beatles” and more. Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young were not destined to sustain the kind of impact such lofty labels created expectations for, but they made this one incredible studio album as a foursome. It was a 1970 classic, and that year they were omnipresent. Every song was amazing, and the potency of their musical personalities was overwhelming if you were a fan of singer/songwriters. I was, and this album, plus the live album FOUR WAY STREET, essentially planted the seeds of my own desire to write songs. From the iconic cover photo to the peerless harmonies to the counterculture sass, this was an unmissable classic of its time. And that guy Neil…

How it influenced me: The songwriting. The personalities. The times!

7. NEIL YOUNG: HARVEST

HARVEST (REPRISE RECORDS, 1972)
HARVEST (REPRISE RECORDS, 1972)

It’s really not easy picking one Neil Young album for my list. Considering that Neil Young is one of the two most important and influential musicians in my entire life, it seems inadequate to talk about one album. It actually could have been ANY of his first four: the NEIL YOUNG debut, the epic Crazy Horse workout EVERYBODY KNOWS THIS IS NOWHERE in 1969, the popular fan favorite AFTER THE GOLDRUSH from 1970. All had an impact, but HARVEST was one of my high school soundtracks. I listened to it with my first real girlfriend. I was profoundly affected by Neil’s singing and arrangements throughout, and, quite simply, I was a different person by the time I fully absorbed this album. Neil Young was the first singer/songwriter I claimed as my own, the first to pervade my life and shift my understanding of the craft of songwriting. I memorized everything on this album; it became a huge soundtrack for me. I even liked the orchestration on “There’s a World,” which some reviewers lambasted. Everything in my music life changed after Neil Young; he’s even the artist that got me interested in reading reviews, which then led to my writing career. His influence was profound.

8. PINK FLOYD: MEDDLE

MEDDLE (HARVEST RECORDS, 1971)
MEDDLE (HARVEST RECORDS, 1971)

If you were in high school in the early to mid-’70s, Pink Floyd were a staple. FM radio played them all the time, and the longhairs and tokers were ALWAYS talking about them. DARK SIDE OF THE MOON was one of the first albums to become a genuine phenomenon, and it was absolutely everywhere when I was in high school. I was intrigued enough by the band to research all their earlier work, and I found their 1971 classic MEDDLE. That’s the one that burrowed into my brain. The trilogy of atmospheric gems on side one: “A Pillow of Winds,” “Fearless” and “San Tropez” stirred me with their smooth vocals, melancholy arrangements and haunted romanticism. I found these tracks more than a little compelling. And, as for “Echoes,” the spacey side-long excursion that graced side two, well, it was the first immersive space rock spectacle I had encountered, a headphone extravaganza for many of us buying our first stereo systems at the time. Progressive rock had arrived, and so had a plethora of mysterious sounds we’d never heard the likes of before, us teens.

How it influenced me: The dawn of headphones-ready space rock, David Gilmour and Rick Wright creating a perfect sonic template to serve Roger Waters’ lyrical ideas, and the important notion that something could be epic and intimate at the same time in music.

9. YES: CLOSE TO THE EDGE

CLOSE TO THE EDGE (ATLANTIC RECORDS, 1972)
CLOSE TO THE EDGE (ATLANTIC RECORDS, 1972)

And they WERE, too. Close to the edge of sonic possibilities at the time, as evidenced by the side-long title track that pretty much blew everyone’s mind. I didn’t truly listen to Yes with any depth until 1973, but CLOSE TO THE EDGE became a staple. Progressive rock was becoming one of the most popular genres, with Yes, King Crimson, Pink Floyd and others dominating the talk among hardcore music fans at the time. With musicianship on a scale hardly imagined before, Jon Anderson’s soaring voice and “out there” lyrics, and passages of music that were so hypnotic and evocative that they could be said to represent the beginning of the power of “ambient sound” (which would transform my life a few years later), Yes were unrvaveling layers of new possibilities in music. I ate it all up, shared it with friends, and even began trying to memorize some of the more interesting lyrics.

How it influenced me: The mystical, far-reaching “subjects,” the compelling lyrics, the incredible purity of Jon Anderson’s voice, the early ambient sounds.

10. BLACK SABBATH: SABBATH BLOODY SABBATH

SABBATH BLOODY SABBATH (WARNER BROTHERS RECORDS, 1974)
SABBATH BLOODY SABBATH (WARNER BROTHERS RECORDS, 1974)

I was never much into what was called “heavy metal,” although both Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath were huge during my teen years. I have no idea what first got me into Black Sabbath, but I listened to MASTER OF REALITY pretty often with the same girlfriend I mentioned in an early paragraph, and it had a lot of mystery about it. The heaviness of the riffs and the darker themes were quite compelling to me. I started reading some of the reviews of Black Sabbath, and by the time their fifth album came out, I was a senior in high school and a budding amateur musician. There seemed to be something of real substance to SABBATH BLOODY SABBATH to my ears at the time, and I even liked Ozzy Osbourne’s shrill voice. The oddest thing that happened, though, is that I began trying to play a couple of the songs on piano. I’d had a year or so of lessons, and I would occasionally try to just “pick out” chords or melodies from popular songs. Came up with my own versions of Neil Young’s “Southern Man” and, inexplicably, “Sabbra Cadabra” from the Black Sabbath album. I was playing controlled double octaves, and I was doing it with all the energy I possessed. I had the structure of this song down pretty well! It got to the point where this was pretty impressive, I suppose, because I played it at a couple of parties and for a number of friends, who always seemed to clap. Inadvertently, Black Sabbath had given me my first taste of what it might be like to be a musician. That’s influential, ain’t it?

11. BRIAN ENO: DISCREET MUSIC

DISCREET MUSIC (ANTILLES RECORDS, 1975)
DISCREET MUSIC (ANTILLES RECORDS, 1975)

In a month or two, I’ll be doing a piece on Brian Eno for this site, so I don’t want to go into undue detail right now. But… people who know me, know that Eno is the single most influential musical artist of my life, just a shade more than Neil Young because of the differing STREAMS of influence he had. This 1975 album was a game changer, to say the least, and of earthshaking importance in my life. Try to imagine what it would be like to have your actual dreams and subconscious memories represented in musical terms. That’s what Eno’s first true “ambient” recording did for me. Consisting of wispy, ethereal, repeating and interweaving synth melodies, what Eno came up with was so new and different that no one really knew what to do with it at the time. I did, though. I listened to it late at night both through headphones and without. I played it any time I had a hangover, and the hangover would miraculously go away. I listened to it when I felt depressed, and I felt that, somehow, there was a force out there that understood me. “Miracle music,” I began to call this stuff, and it launched my lifetime love affair with ambient music. How did it influence me? In every possible way as a music listener. It asked questions that many people are STILL trying to answer. And a whole new world had opened up that I walked into with an open mind and open ears…

12. JONI MITCHELL: HEJIRA

HEJIRA (ASYLUM RECORDS, 1976)
HEJIRA (ASYLUM RECORDS, 1976)

By 1976, the legendary Joni Mitchell was exploring jazz stylings more and more in her music, and she was well past the stage of having conventional “hits” (1974’s COURT AND SPARK was her last album to feature anything like that). I’d been a fan, but HEJIRA was more than just a new album by a songwriter I loved; it was a restless travelogue by an artist at the peak of her powers. Songs such as “Amelia” (which referenced ill-fated pilot Amelia Earhart), “Song for Sharon” and “Refuge of the Road” really stirred me with their ruminations on life, memories and uncertainty, and furthered a growing desire I had to write meaningful things myself. If that weren’t enough, I fell in love with a girl not long after this that looked very much LIKE Joni Mitchell, and kind of worshipped her. So, me with my Neil Young obsession and this girl with her Joni fixation, began comparing notes and trading insights on our idols. It was heady stuff, and although it ended badly, this Joni Mitchell album in particular captured something emotionally potent that was not only on the recording itself, but echoed through my own personal life. And the lyrics of that “Refuge of the Roads” song are brilliant and sobering.

13. TELEVISION: MARQUEE MOON

MARQUEE MOON (ELEKTRA RECORDS, 1977)
MARQUEE MOON (ELEKTRA RECORDS, 1977)

Something strange and mysterious was going on in New York City in the mid ’70s, and my cousin Roxanne, who lived there, started talking to me about it. There were a lot of new bands playing at a club called CBGB’s, and Roxanne and I, who were already close partially due to shared letters and phone calls about relationships and the music we loved, began going to that club and others in NYC, regularly. A band called Television was getting a great deal of attention, and I didn’t think too much about this until I went to New York myself in 1977 and got to see them, with my cousin and my brother Kyle along for the experience. There’s a thing that happens when you see a band that sounds like nothing else you’ve ever heard. You get transported, you have your mind blown, and it expands your reference points for the old sonic vocabulary. Television had two incredible guitarists, Tom Verlaine and Richard Lloyd, and the mesmerizing interplay of the two lead guitars, coupled with bizarre, evocative lyrics and Verlaine’s charisma on stage, was unforgettable for anyone who saw the band. The term “new wave” was created to try to label bands like this; “punk” just wasn’t cutting it. These guys were musicians, and they were reaching for something out there that the punk bands couldn’t care less about. Roxanne sang me her favorite lyrics from the band over and over, even my snobby brother was affected, and I was left reeling by yet another brand new rock sound. The MARQUEE MOON album came out later in 1977 and took the indie music scene by storm. Some of the best guitar work ever played was on this album.

How it influenced me: By generating understanding of the far-reaching drama that two electric guitars could generate, seeing the experience of people getting swept away by music in the dingiest of dingy Bowery clubs (at a legendary time in rock music history), and by raising the stakes for underground music, which was also to generate so much press that the mere READING of reviews and articles at this time became an experience unto itself.