Some Songs Considered - Posts Tagged '1969'

February 20, 2010

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“Love Buzz” – Shocking Blue
(Words/music: Robbie van Leeuwen, available on At Home, Pink Elephant 1969)

If I may go out on a limb to begin, most people would know Shocking Blue for their song “Venus,” a number one single in 1969 and a staple of TV commercials in recent years. Admittedly, I knew the song but not the band for the longest time. I say this because I knew song “Love Buzz” for years before I ever heard of the band. “Love Buzz” was the A-side to the first Nirvana single in 1988, the first in the Sub Pop Singles’ Club series that helped fund the label during lean years. A decade later, “Love Buzz” was among the Nirvana songs I extracted from CDs for use in mix tapes. I loved the agile bass line underneath the wall of distortion. In particular, I loved “Love Buzz” because it was one of the popier songs on Bleach (an album I never fully loved the way I loved the band’s later output). Of course, this was still “pop” run through a distortion pedal, sung with a slightly deranged vocal tone. In short, this was pop that I could co-sign at fifteen.

So at some point (one of the unsung tragedies of the digital era is that acquiring albums don’t leave imprints as much), I heard the original “Love Buzz.” I knew it was a cover, but some of the more high profile Nirvana covers (The Man Who Sold the World was the first Bowie album I owned). I knew that Kurt Cobain (born today) loved some offbeat pop songs, but “Love Buzz” still took me by surprise. Despite adding a far more aggressive guitar tone, Nirvana streamlined the song somewhat. The original version moves at a slower, deliberate pace with Mariska Veres’ deep vocals flanked by a sitar. If the Nirvana song churned along at the same pace as much of their early material, Shocking Blue’s version sounds eerier at its slower tempo. Then, there’s a double-time section where the drums, measured and restrained to this point, pound away. The whole thing, whether it’s Veres’ tone or the sitar or just all the open space, sounds slightly creepy yet still entrancing. I understand why Cobain was fascinated with a song like this.

More on Shocking Blue: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

November 5, 2009

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“With a Little Help from My Friends” – Joe Cocker
(Words/music: John Lennon and Paul McCartney, available on With a Little Help From My Friends, A&M 1969)

For many, Joe Cocker’s version of this song evokes The Wonder Years. I’m only nostalgic about the show because it was my dad’s favorite show when I was a kid (I was ten when it ended). Between my parents viewing and the backdrop of Vietnam War-era America, it felt like another world for me. Of course, the show might make more sense now that I lived through (and have a healthy distance from) my early teenage years. Regardless, Joe Cocker’s voice makes me think of this show, and perhaps that’s why his version makes sense.

Cocker takes the Beatles’ original, slows it down, and twists the emotions on the original. I like the bouncy Sgt. Pepper’s take on the song (and as I’ve suggested before, I’m a Ringo apologist), but Cocker’s version focuses on the anguish in the song’s lyrics. Perhaps it’s Cocker’s voice, particularly the way that he trails off near the end of some of the lines, that makes the song sound worn out, but Cocker’s narrator feels fatigued. That, combined with the backing vocals that lead him through the chorus and later share the burden with him in the final verse, puts the focus on the aid from friends. It’s this spirit that the show – one that focuses on growing up during one of the more tumultuous moments in twentieth century America – captures, and having Joe Cocker set the stage every week feels appropriate.

(Side note: I learned tonight that Jimmy Page played guitar on this. I’m too tired to try to work it in to the rest of the post, so I’ll just share it here).

More on Joe Cocker: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

October 15, 2009

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“Suspicious Minds” – Elvis Presley
(Words/music: Mark James, available on RCA Single 1969, Elvis: 30 #1 Hits, BMG 2002)

When I was young, my mom would quiz my brothers and me on the performers of songs we’d hear on the radio. However, she really only did this with The Beatles and Elvis Presley, so after a while if she asked, one of us would guess the Beatles and one would guess Elvis. I suppose it was her way of giving us a basic musical education, as one might make the case that Elvis and the Beatles were the two biggest forces in pop music. This, for the most part, is the only story I have attached to Elvis Presley’s music. I’ve admired him from afar and read about how he fits into the history of popular music – for example, “Ed Sullivan” would be my immediate free-associative response when Elvis comes up. I’m not proud of this gap in my knowledge (and I’d appreciate any non-Greatest Hits starting suggestions if you have one).

Somehow, either on one of those mid-ride quizzes in my parents’ minivan or on a jukebox somewhere, “Suspicious Minds” stuck with me. This isn’t the young, rebellious Elvis most people picture when thinking of him. Instead, this is Elvis the Pop Star, fresh off his 1968 televised comeback special, surrounded by horns, backup singers, and a jangly guitar. Still, it’s Presley’s distinctive voice that commands the spotlight. I especially love the way he distorts the word “love” with a couple extra syllables thrown in. It’s appropriate, as love gets distorted by jealous feelings and accusations in the song. Ultimately, it’s the breakdown in the middle where Presley shows off his chops as a vocalist. The band slides into a gentle half-time feel while he belts out a couple key lines. It’s Presley’s assertion that even if he needed to reclaim the spotlight on television, he was capable as ever this second time around.

More on Elvis Presley: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: elvis presley | bmg | rca | 1969 | 1960s |

October 1, 2009

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“Kick Out the Jams” – MC5
(Words/music: Michael Davis/Wayne Kramer/Fred “Sonic” Smith/Dennis Thompson/Rob Tyner, available on Kick Out the Jams, Elektra 1969)

One of the (admittedly few) things I remember from my high school physics class is the law of conservation of energy. Specifically, it suggests that energy can be converted but can never be created or destroyed (Einstein connects this to mass as well – that energy may be converted into mass and vice versa, but the basic idea remains the same). Regardless, this sat dormant in my brain until I put on the MC5 a little while ago. Its primal energy and bluesy guitars must have knocked this loose, because it made me start thinking about “energy” as it relates to this song. “Kick Out the Jams” remains one of the most commonly credited predecessors to “punk rock,” but that’s little more than an intellectual exercise. I’m sure that someone with a more extensive knowledge of the 1960s (specifically garage rock) could trace this thread deeper to find the first proto-punk record, be it “Kick Out the Jams” or something from the Stooges or whatever, but I’m more interested in the spirit of punk rock – or, in this case, punk’s “energy.”

Thinking of it in that sense – of the spirit of punk rock as “energy” – it stands to believe that it’s always existed, only in different shifting forms. If it came to New York and London in three chord romps in the 1970s, as hardcore in California in the 1980s, and to the radio in the 1990s, the spirit and undercurrent remain consistent as the sounds change. In 1969, punk rock sounded like Detroit garage rock; it morphed into the joyful chaos provided by these crashing cymbals, sped up blues riffs, and Rob Tyner’s profane proclamation to start the music. As hesitant as I am to declare this punk rock (as I think this sounds equally like AC/DC), this is the same joyous spirit founds in its descendants. Regardless of its label, “Kick Out the Jams” still sounds riotous forty years later no matter what you call it.

More on MC5: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

August 16, 2009

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“Fortunate Son” – Creedence Clearwater Revival
(Words/music: John Fogerty, available on Willy and the Poor Boys, Fantasy Records 1969)

In my mind, “Fortunate Son” remains one of the most essential protest songs. In many ways, it does everything that the punk movement a decade later strived to accomplish. It seethes with righteous anger, targeting upper class hypocrisy with the same pointed anger every punk envies. John Fogerty sings with more indignation than anyone this side of Joe Strummer, making his performance sound personal and desperate. In the same year as Woodstock, Fogerty’s song stood as the angry answer to the Summer of Love by pointing fingers and refusing to compromise. Critics point towards the Stooges or McCartney’s “Helter Skelter” as punk rock’s touchstones, but fewer songs seem as “punk rock” as “Fortunate Son,” even to this day.

This made those awful, blindly patriotic Wrangler Jeans’ commercials from a few years ago so infuriating. These commercials, which I think included Brett Favre, took the song’s first two lines out of context. It stripped the song of everything that made it so powerful, undercutting Fogery’s undercutting. I imagine it was some advertising agency employee Googling partriotic songs and ending up on some misguided webpage listing “Fortunate Son” as one. Yes, it’s patriotic in the sense that it embraces freedom of speech, but it doesn’t fit the conventional definition of “patriotism,” or at least not the definition Wrangler tried to shove down its audience’s throats. I’m not sure who owns the publishing rights to Creedence’s catalog (whether it’s Fogerty or someone else), but the egregious misuse of the song remains with me to this day. Even the song’s (slight) rebirth during the recent War on Terrorism as a protest song can’t make me forget about Wrangler’s mangling – and if John Fogerty signed off on it, I can’t help but think a little less of him. If it’s true that once a song becomes public, it belongs to all of us, it’s our responsibility to demand to have it back from those who choose a cut-and-paste interpretation of it.

More on Creedence Clearwater Revival: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

February 6, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“30 Century Man” – Scott Walker
(Words/music: Scott Walker, available on Scott 3, Fontana 1969)

“30 Century Man” sounds like a simple song – and sure, it’s just Scott Walker’s deep voice and an acoustic guitar – but there’s still something alluring about it. Perhaps it’s because Walker stars out with a simple question – you can either be a dwarf star or a red giant, but you have to pick. It’s an interesting choice – you can either be the run of the mill dwarf, one of 90% of stars with the rest of their life ahead of them, or you can be a giant, the fiery, intense ball of gas that shines brightest right before its ready to expire. In a strange way, it’s a choice between patience and spectacle (or, to a lesser degree, similar to the quandary Neil Young would later pose – is it better to burn out or fade away?). Still, Walker offers another possibility – take yourself out of this era and start over again next century. I think it’s this oddity that makes the song for me; otherwise, it’s a fairly straightforward song without Walker’s strange sci-fi suggestion. There’s something alluring to the future - it’s the realm of possibilities. All our problems will be solved by time and technology (right?…. right?!)

Sonically, the chords and melody are interesting enough, and I like the technique of putting the guitar in one speaker and the vocals in the other. This song doesn’t work for me, however, without being a little strange. I think it’s the off-putting idea of a man freezing himself – taking himself out of this time period for the sake of the unknown 30th century – that makes this song interesting enough. Sure, it’s a shame you’ll never meet Charles DeGaulle, but who cares – you’ll see hover cars!

There’s not really a concrete reason that I like “30 Century Man” – perhaps it’s that it lasts for 90 seconds, perhaps it’s that it’s slightly surreal, and perhaps it’s the association with The Life Aquatic and Futurama, but it’s the kind of song that comes up in my shuffle and never gets skipped. It’s just strange enough.

More on Scott Walker: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

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