“The Fool” was written by Lee Hazlewood (though credited to his nom de spouse, Naomi Ford, and with a guitar riff borrowed from Howlin’ Wolf’s “Smokestack Lightnin’“), and first waxed by Sanford Clark in 1956. Since then, the song’s been recorded dozens of times across a surprising range of genres. Here, for your irritainment*, are twenty-eight different recordings, clocking it at over ninety-six oddly hypnotic minutes.
Translator’s 1982 modern rock classic “Everywhere That I’m Not†turned out to be an ironic title, since it was itself everywhere. The record’s canny combination of an impassioned post-punk vocal, a singalong chorus and the rocket fuel of Columbia Records’ distribution network launched the single on both college and commercial radio. Translator formed in Los Angeles, but found their home on Howie Klein’s San Francisco-based 415 label, alongside Romeo Void, Wire Train and Red Rockers. The group’s debut, Heartbeats and Triggers, gained deep album play on college radio just as the medium was itself was gaining traction as a tastemaker. The band recorded three more albums, showing off talent and imagination that spanned well beyond their new wave breakthrough, but they never again caught the popular heat of their debut.
This volume of demos is centered around that key year of 1982, collecting early, pre-LP material from 1979, and extending through tracks recorded at the time of their self-titled third album in 1985. Most familiar to most listeners will be the demos of “Everywhere That I’m Not†and its album-mate “Necessary Spinning.†Each is surprisingly finished in its attitude and arrangement, sounding ready for both the studio and stage. The former is among four recordings by the original trio lineup, waxed before guitarist Robert Darlington joined the band. The band’s first two demos, “Translator†and “Lost,†show how the band merged rock ‘n’ roll roots – rockabilly, surf and mod – with a harder punk delivery. By 1980 the group had grown into the quartet that would stay together throughout their four 1980’s albums, and regroup for 2012’s Big Green Lawn.
The demos include material from each of those four original albums, including an early version of “Beyond Today,†titled “Get Out.†The demo’s raw sound – particularly its dry vocals – contrasts sharply with the album’s polished production; the original on-the-nose protest lyrics were smartly replaced by more open-ended, philosophical thoughts. In many cases, the album versions only lightly brushed up what was already in the demos, clarifying the acoustics, enlarging the drums and tightening the guitars. What will be especially interesting to fans are the songs that never made it past demo form, including the post-punk “Lost,†prog-rock “Fiendish Thingy,†punk rock “Optimism,†neo-psych “We Fell Away,†French language “My Restless Heart,†hard-rocking “Brouhaha†and the superb set closer “I’ll Be Your Summer.â€
Scott Fitzgerald is often quoted as saying there are no second acts in American lives, but as he observed for himself, second acts abound; not least of which was his own. But third acts are indeed rare, and particularly in the fad-driven business of music. Dion DiMucci is one of the few who successfully reinvented himself twice, transitioning from 1950s doo wop to swaggering 1960s solo stardom, and when that spotlight dimmed, reinventing himself as a sensitive folk artist with Dick Holler’s “Abraham, Martin and John.†Although this latter hit marked the end of his mainstream chart success, it spurred a period of creativity that fueled this solo show at New York’s famed Bitter End, a renewed focus on songwriting and an award-winning career as a contemporary Christian artist.
With just his guitar in hand, Dion proved himself to be a consummate entertainer, seamlessly assimilating his recent folk material with earlier pop hits and cover songs. It’s a virtuoso performance that shows off his dexterity as an acoustic picker, his versatility as a singer, and his absolute command of the stage as a performer. The set list spans 1950’s blues and rock, Dion’s early ‘60s classics and late ’60s folk songs, and a generous helping of deftly picked covers of material from Bob Dylan, Chuck Berry, Leonard Cohen, Sonny Boy Williamson, Lightnin’ Hopkins and the Beatles. Dion opens the disc with a sensitive reading of Dylan’s “Mama, You’ve Been On My Mind,†and sings out strong and clear in a riveting take of his original B-side, “Brand New Morning.â€
He’s warm and funny as he introduces Chuck Berry’s “Too Much Monkey Business,†slowing the song into a croon that rides on a thumbed bass line, skipping through the verses, updating “Yokohama†to “Vietnam,†and adding some scatting for good measure. The song’s bluesy style was likely born of the material Dion recorded (but didn’t always release) in the mid-60s, exemplified here by covers of “You Better Watch Yourself†and “Don’t Start Me Talking.†He even turns his own 1961 hit “The Wanderer†into a 12-bar blues so compelling that you’ll be hard-pressed to match it to the original. 1962’s “Ruby Baby†combines a straighter reading of the melody with swaggering asides so easily interjected that they could only be the product of a decade’s nightly performances.
Much like Warren Zevon’s The Wind, Jesse Winchester’s A Reasonable Amount of Trouble turned out to be his own epitaph. Unlike Zevon’s album, recorded in the shadow of a terminal diagnosis, Winchester recorded this final studio work while in remission, with hope still on the horizon. But even with his cancer at bay, mortality had clearly become a presence that was impossible to ignore. And so Winchester engaged it directly with songs that ponder life, and indirectly with songs – particularly cover songs – that held onto his abiding faith in music.
Reaching back to the Clovers’ “Devil or Angel,†the Del-Vikings’ “Whispering Bells†(complete with yakety sax), and the Cascades’ “Rhythm of the Rain,†Winchester found comfort in songs that had first stoked his love of music. Given his own prowess as a writer, it’s telling that he spent a quarter of the album on songs whose soulful resonance still gripped him fifty years later. His new material has a clear sense of nostalgia, but also a thankfulness for the here and now. He recalibrates his perspective, remembering to always value and enjoy life’s pleasures, and extols the virtues of people and places he’s loved and those that have loved him.
1970s cult classic gets the deluxe reissue it’s always deserved
If you’ve worked at a college radio station with a deep library of vinyl, you might have been tipped to Ron Nagle’s 1970 album by a knowledgeable elder. Assuming it hadn’t been stolen, of course. Or maybe a songwriting credit (Barbra! The Tubes!) or the music he made on 1979’s Durocs prompted you to ask questions. Questions that led you on a journey through used record stores, flea markets and collectors’ forums. Perhaps an indie record store clerk even shelved a copy of Edsel’s 1986 vinyl reissue behind the counter for you. But more likely, and like the many fans of Nagle’s ceramics, you’ve never heard (or even heard of) this album. And that’s a wrong that’s finally being righted forty-five years after the fact.
Nagle’s one and only solo album was something of a lark, and was conceived at the intersection of his music and art careers. With his group the Mystery Trend having folded a few years earlier, he was focused full-time on ceramics. To help promote his first solo gallery show, he recorded the original “61 Clay,†and when the recording made its way to San Francisco’s KSAN-FM it caught the ear of the station’s major domo, Tom Donahue. Donahue got Nagle signed to Warner Brothers, and stayed on to co-produce the album with the legendary Jack Nitzsche. Recorded in both San Francisco and Los Angeles, the result drew heavily on Nagle’s Bay Area connections. In addition to his impressive vocals and keyboards, the album includes Beau Brummels Sal Valentino and Ron Elliott, Commander Cody’s steel player Steve Davis, Stoneground guitarists John Blakeley and Tim Barnes, and soon-to-be Pablo Cruise founder David Jenkins. Â
Beyond the San Francisco connections, Nagle drew upon the talents of guitarist Ry Cooder, and legendary drummers Mickey Waller and George Rains. But even with all that talent on board, Nagle remains very much the star of the show. Launching his songs from biographical seeds, he sings of a childhood crush, his parents hyperbolic storytelling, and his marriages – the first dissolving in an ex-wife’s identity crisis, the second providing him the support to turn back alcohol problems. He adds a twist to the neighborhood bodega of “Frank’s Store,†creating heartbreaking pathos with his vocal and Nitzsche’s string arrangement. Nitzsche’s production is spot-on throughout the album, ranging easily from ballads to guitar rockers to the steel-lined country rock of “Something’s Gotta Give Now.†This is the mix of sounds that made the transition from ‘60s jams to tighter ‘70s songwriting so riveting.
So what happened? Why isn’t this universally known as one of the era’s great rock albums? Reportedly, Nagle’s reluctance to tour and FM radio’s lack of support caused the album to disappear almost immediately. Looking at underground FM playlists from the era, it’s hard to imagine how this failed to gain major turntable time, particularly with Warner Brothers’ publicity machine and Tom Donahue’s connections. But disappear it did, and despite two more attempts at stirring some commercial interest (the post-album tracks “Berberlang†and “Francineâ€), Nagle’s music career moved out of the spotlight. He’d return with Scott Matthews in the Durocs and Profits, write with Barbra Streisand (“Don’t Believe What You Readâ€) and the Tubes (“Don’t Touch Me Thereâ€), produce, and create sound affects for film, but as a solo musical act, he never returned.
Omnivore’s reissue augments the album’s original eleven tracks with material mined from Nagle’s vault, including two alternate mixes, a pair of period radios spots and a full disc of demos. The latter includes both material that was later re-recorded and Nagle originals that have otherwise gone unheard until now. Among the former is the original version of “61 Clay†and an early take on “Saving it All Up For Larry†that differs markedly from the Durocs version. Of the fourteen demos, only “From the Collection of Dorothy Tate†and “61 Clay†have been previously issues – the remaining dozen are heard here for the first time. As with the album tracks, Nagle drew heavily on his personal life, mining his relationships and emotions, and sharing his perspectives on the people he knew.
Hey… let’s do something bizarre, like walk into Vesuvius in our underwear smoking black cigarettes. Crazy. And we’ll throw pennies at the tourists… I’d like to meet the rich lady with the wart. She looks like she could use a friend. So could I, I’m a tourist too. What do ya say for kicks we hop in your Volkswagen and tear off for Watsonville? I mean, can you imagine a more out place for two in people? I’ve got eyes for a little fresh air anyway. Like it’s Bartok time and this party’s had it. -Rod McKuen, Beatsville
Latter-day Yes guitarist and songwriter on a 1989 solo tour
This reissue returns to print Rabin’s performance from his 1989 solo tour. Rabin came to international attention through his membership in the second major incarnation of Yes, most notably the group’s 1983 smash90125 and its group-penned hit, “Owner of a Lonely Heart.†Rabin managed to squeeze in the 1989 solo album Can’t Look Away while still a member of Yes, and toured with a powerful quartet in support. This reissue of a 2003 release documents the tour’s final night, at the Roxy in Los Angeles.
Rabin’s guitar leads a tight four-piece band that plays larger and is flush with the backing vocal talent of keyboard player Mark Mancina and bassist Jim Simmons. This is particularly evident on the South African flavored “Sorrow.†Rabin’s originals mix pop and prog-rock, much as did Yes at the time, and the set includes both solo and group material. The band’s rendition of “Owner of a Lonely Heart†is turned into an enthusiastic audience sing-a-long that will remind you of the song’s immense popularity and the importance of Jon Anderson’s original vocal.
