An ok documentary about the kind of manager all bands need but few get. Wears thin in places, but few documentaries don’t.
So where was Jesus between stunning the temple elders at age 12 and getting baptized at age 30? Just being the typical lost young boomer, turns out.
Of course, you knew that would mean war.
Beneath the mayhem and incompetence, this is a good song with a great hook in the chorus. And the lyrics are as true as any. According to Wikipedia, Terry Adams of NRBQ likened their melodies to Ornette Coleman. I hear what he’s getting at. The long melodic lines appear to meander, but then they resolve into a nutty coherence. But I dunno that they remind me that much of Ornette Coleman. Since none of you can throw a beer at me for being a pretentious ass (today, at least), I’ll go ahead and submit that their melodic lines remind me of Hector Berlioz.
Love ’em or hate ’em, the Shaggs are a genuine enigma, and those are always interesting.
If you happen to run across an original pressing (you won’t), snap it up. They’e very rare and worth thousands.
Goat’s Head Soup, recently given the full-reissue shebang, has its moments, but in ’73 it was a disappointment coming on the heels of the super-human Beggars Banquet through Exile on Main Street run. A recent review on Pitchfork sums up how I feel about it:
This would suggest Goats Head Soup’s true significance is that it marked the moment where a new Rolling Stones record ceased to be a game-changing cultural event, and more like a fresh pile of coal shoveled into the engine room to keep the show on the road.
There goes one of my boyhood crushes.
Simeon Coxe, age 82.
Found this video sometime after I posted about these guys last spring or whenever it was:
I’d never heard of The United States of America before seeing this.
I hate the songs of Jimmy Webb. He won a jillion Grammy’s, and he’s regularly named as a great songwriter by people who really should know better (Bruce Springteen and some others). At his best, his songs are merely annoying, melodically vapid, and oozing with gooey sentimentality (his songs for Glen Campbell: Galveston, Wichita Lineman, By the Time I Get To Phoenix). At his worst, they are also pretentious (McArthur Park) and stupid beyond all description (Up, Up and Away, McArthur Park again). I once played Richard Harris’s original hit version of McArthur Park to my older son, who was certain I was playing him a comedy record. If you’re so inclined, above you can watch him perform what could be the worst song ever written with such bone-headed earnestness that you may find yourself wanting Anton Chigurh to walk up and do his captive bolt stunner thing on him. I didn’t even make it to the infamous “cake out in the rain” part (surely the dumbest metaphor ever devised). In a way it’s funny, but mostly not. My question to you bastards: am I incorrect? If any of you are Jimmy Webb fans, can you clue me in as to what’s good about him? Did he write some hidden gems I’ve never heard? Because based on his biggest hits, I don’t get his reputation as one of the greats at all.
This hilarious encounter between a young London ragamuffin and a moralizing shopowner sort of comes off like 1970’s Charles Dickens . Still cracks me up after 40+ years.