Naming "Angel" as your favorite Hendrix song is a little like saying that Paul McCartney is your favorite Beatle. It's not as popular as John or "Purple Haze," nor is it as cool as George or "1983... (A Merman I Should Turn to Be)." But judging on songcraft alone, it stands above the rest.
Why is that? There's nothing particularly flashy about it, which might be why Jimi never released it in his lifetime. But for an artist whose songs are pretty much universally loved, Hendrix never seems to get enough credit as a composer. Sure, everyone admirers the guitar playing, but he also had an impeccable sense of melody, knowing when to use a good, subtle progression and give it breathing room, the way that he does here. Jeff Beck would have probably gussied it up until it was lost in a nine-minute jam, and Clapton would need outside songwriting help to come up with anything like it. If I believed in angels, I'd thank them that Jimi gave this song the structure and lyrics that it deserves.
Something about this magic little song transcends arrangements and performances. I love the orchestrated version, performed here by Gil Evans' band in the 70s.
Fiona Apple's rendition on MTV Unplugged is as lovely as anything I can think of (starts around 10:43).
Even Rod Stewart and the Faces could stop being silly on Top of the Pops long enough to show some reverence.
Songs usually don't get covered this often unless a) Everyone likes them, and/or b) People assume they can sing it better than the original performer (see "Blowin' in the Wind" or "Hallelujah.") With "Angel," I wonder if it's a little of both--people like it, and most people think of Jimi as the Guitar God and leave it at that. But most likely, Hendrix just created a mood that everyone wants to be a part of. Fly on, my sweet angel.
Showing posts with label john lennon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label john lennon. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Monday, October 7, 2013
1000 Homo DJs, "Supernaut"
When Ministry's Al Jourgensen brought some early demos to Wax Trax! co-founder Jim Nash, Nash allegedly told him "No one's going buy this. It'll take one thousand homo DJs to play this for one person to buy it."
By1990, Ministry was riding on two of the best albums of the '80s (The Land of Rape and Honey and The Mind is a Terrible Thing to Taste) and laughing all the way back to the Wax Trax! execs, who were happy just to release Jourgensen's outtakes. The result was Supernaut, a four-song EP under the the nom de plume 1000 Homo DJs.
Three of the songs sound like a major talent's outtakes, with even the eight-minute loop of Jello Biafra singing "Hey Asshole" showcasing Jourgensen's deft production. But I'm writing about Supernaut today in honor of its title track, a cover of the underrated Sabbath tune. Other than arguably Faith No More's version of "War Pigs," no tribute to metal's most-covered band has ever come so close to topping the original.
As we've learned through Sabbath's lineup changes, every member of the original band was integral. But even with one of rock music's most iconic frontmen and heaviest rhythm sections, Sabbath was all about the riffs. The onomatopoeia "Supernaut" shifts and shakes until it sounds like it's going to break free from your listening device, especially when emphasized by Jourgensen's tone. The vocalist, uncredited on the album, is one Trent Reznor. For industrial fanatics, it's like hearing John Lennon sing with Keith Richards.
By1990, Ministry was riding on two of the best albums of the '80s (The Land of Rape and Honey and The Mind is a Terrible Thing to Taste) and laughing all the way back to the Wax Trax! execs, who were happy just to release Jourgensen's outtakes. The result was Supernaut, a four-song EP under the the nom de plume 1000 Homo DJs.
Three of the songs sound like a major talent's outtakes, with even the eight-minute loop of Jello Biafra singing "Hey Asshole" showcasing Jourgensen's deft production. But I'm writing about Supernaut today in honor of its title track, a cover of the underrated Sabbath tune. Other than arguably Faith No More's version of "War Pigs," no tribute to metal's most-covered band has ever come so close to topping the original.
As we've learned through Sabbath's lineup changes, every member of the original band was integral. But even with one of rock music's most iconic frontmen and heaviest rhythm sections, Sabbath was all about the riffs. The onomatopoeia "Supernaut" shifts and shakes until it sounds like it's going to break free from your listening device, especially when emphasized by Jourgensen's tone. The vocalist, uncredited on the album, is one Trent Reznor. For industrial fanatics, it's like hearing John Lennon sing with Keith Richards.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Song of the Day: Deftones, "Jealous Guy"
Are there any decent tribute albums? How about benefit records? They all mean well, and can do a lot of good, but you'll be lucky to get a handful of standouts on that plausible Kerrang! Tribute to Van Halen or the inevitable Live Aid 3. It's hard to think of a more admirable organization than Amnesty International, but their benefit albums are a waste of plastic. Better to make a donation rather than purchase a two-CD set of Jack Johnson, Christina Aguilera, Big & Rich, Avril Lavigne and the Black-Eyed Peas covering John Lennon. I can't even bring myself to remember who's on the Bob Dylan tribute.
Yet, Instant Karma: The Amnesty International Campaign to Save Darfur comes with one lovely track, an iTunes-only extra from the Deftones.
It takes a combination of balls and/or ignorance to cover a John Lennon song, particularly one that already has a famous Roxy Music version. But the Deftones find a new angle, exercising a Radiohead influence and letting bassist Chi Cheng direct. The strings and keyboard are stripped to a lonesome guitar line, beneath Chino Moreno's most fragile singing on record. The arrangement only gets slightly heavier throughout the verses, but the crescendo that Moreno unloads in the last pair of choruses convinced me that he's a musician.
It's hard for me to find sympathy for the song's narrator, who reminds me of Bob Dylan's guy who didn't mean to treat you so bad. But I still believe him.
For Chi Cheng.
Yet, Instant Karma: The Amnesty International Campaign to Save Darfur comes with one lovely track, an iTunes-only extra from the Deftones.
It takes a combination of balls and/or ignorance to cover a John Lennon song, particularly one that already has a famous Roxy Music version. But the Deftones find a new angle, exercising a Radiohead influence and letting bassist Chi Cheng direct. The strings and keyboard are stripped to a lonesome guitar line, beneath Chino Moreno's most fragile singing on record. The arrangement only gets slightly heavier throughout the verses, but the crescendo that Moreno unloads in the last pair of choruses convinced me that he's a musician.
It's hard for me to find sympathy for the song's narrator, who reminds me of Bob Dylan's guy who didn't mean to treat you so bad. But I still believe him.
For Chi Cheng.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Five Great Records that Robert Christgau Trashed
Earlier this week I met Robert Christgau, the "Dean of American Rock Critics." He could not have been friendlier. I did not expect the Pazz & Jop founder (and the guy who once wished death on Paul McCartney instead of John Lennon) to make time for me, but I learned that his demeanor is worthy of his talent.
Christgau's reviews were, for better and worse, a harbinger for Twitter. He specializes in short, sharp remarks that say more about how music feels than how it sounds. Any serious music writer has spent hours with his Consumer Guide books or web site, which are always entertaining and often infuriating. Whatever part of his brain made him one of America's top journalists did not help him at all when it came to appreciating metal.
"I admire metal's integrity, brutality, and obsessiveness, but I can't stand its delusions of grandeur," he wrote in one of his rare positive reviews, for Motörhead's Orgasmatron. He's come to terms somewhat, more recently telling Salon, "I don’t think metal’s as bad as I hear it as being." But for all his virtues, the Dean is not to be trusted when it comes to the headbanger's art. In some ways, he's metal's perfect foil--an artistic, intellectual type who prefers Sonic Youth in his haughty publications. In honor of Christgau's game-changing style and questionable taste, let's give his writing a taste of his own acerbic medicine.
1. Black Sabbath, Paranoid
They do take heavy to undreamt-of extremes, and I suppose I could enjoy them as camp, like a horror movie--the title cut is definitely screamworthy. After all, their audience can't take that Lucifer bit seriously, right? Well, depends on what you mean by serious. Personally, I've always suspected that horror movies catharsized stuff I was too rational to care about in the first place.
Calling metal on its campiness is like making fun of your friends. If you're a proven comrade and appreciator, it's fine, but if it comes with a "C-" you're asking for a fight. In fairness, metal does have audience that's misguided enough to believe in Satan, and they're also into banning books.
2. Van Halen, Van Halen
For some reason Warners wants us to know that this is the biggest bar band in the San Fernando Valley. This doesn't mean much--all new bands are bar bands, unless they're Boston. The term becomes honorific when the music belongs in a bar. This music belongs on an aircraft carrier.
On an aircraft carrier? What does that even mean? Christgau's prose is often brilliant, but here he's either too smart for me or has no idea what he's talking about.
3. AC/DC, Back in Black
"Shoot to Thrill," "Given [sic] the Dog a Bone," and "Let Me Put My Love Into You" all concern the unimaginative sexual acts you'd imagine, and "What Do You Do for Money Honey" has a more limited set of answers than the average secretary would prefer. My sister's glad they don't write fantasy and science fiction, and if you're female you're free to share her relief. Brothers are more deeply implicated in these matters.
The number one pratfall of music critics is that they respond to lyrics more than music. Personally, I think Back in Black is full of gems ("She told me to come but I was already there,") but any appreciation of AC/DC starts with the riffs. What Brian Johnson sings
about doesn't matter as much as what you can sing along to.
4. Metallica, Master of Puppets
(T)he revolutionary heroes I envisage aren't male chauvinists too inexperienced to know better; they don't have hair like Samson and pecs like Arnold Schwarzenegger. That's the image Metallica calls up, and I'm no more likely to invoke their strength of my own free will than I am The 1812 Overture's.
Confirmation that everyone assumes that the music they detest is enjoyed by their enemies from high school.
5. Nine Inch Nails, The Downward Spiral
Musically, Hieronymus Bosch as postindustrial atheist; lyrically, Transformers as kiddie porn.
Industrial Bosch actually sounds kind of great, though I have no idea where the second part came from. Maybe he meant to write "transformers, kids and porn," and turned it off before he got to "Hurt."
Christgau's reviews were, for better and worse, a harbinger for Twitter. He specializes in short, sharp remarks that say more about how music feels than how it sounds. Any serious music writer has spent hours with his Consumer Guide books or web site, which are always entertaining and often infuriating. Whatever part of his brain made him one of America's top journalists did not help him at all when it came to appreciating metal.
"I admire metal's integrity, brutality, and obsessiveness, but I can't stand its delusions of grandeur," he wrote in one of his rare positive reviews, for Motörhead's Orgasmatron. He's come to terms somewhat, more recently telling Salon, "I don’t think metal’s as bad as I hear it as being." But for all his virtues, the Dean is not to be trusted when it comes to the headbanger's art. In some ways, he's metal's perfect foil--an artistic, intellectual type who prefers Sonic Youth in his haughty publications. In honor of Christgau's game-changing style and questionable taste, let's give his writing a taste of his own acerbic medicine.
1. Black Sabbath, Paranoid
They do take heavy to undreamt-of extremes, and I suppose I could enjoy them as camp, like a horror movie--the title cut is definitely screamworthy. After all, their audience can't take that Lucifer bit seriously, right? Well, depends on what you mean by serious. Personally, I've always suspected that horror movies catharsized stuff I was too rational to care about in the first place.
Calling metal on its campiness is like making fun of your friends. If you're a proven comrade and appreciator, it's fine, but if it comes with a "C-" you're asking for a fight. In fairness, metal does have audience that's misguided enough to believe in Satan, and they're also into banning books.
For some reason Warners wants us to know that this is the biggest bar band in the San Fernando Valley. This doesn't mean much--all new bands are bar bands, unless they're Boston. The term becomes honorific when the music belongs in a bar. This music belongs on an aircraft carrier.
On an aircraft carrier? What does that even mean? Christgau's prose is often brilliant, but here he's either too smart for me or has no idea what he's talking about.
"Shoot to Thrill," "Given [sic] the Dog a Bone," and "Let Me Put My Love Into You" all concern the unimaginative sexual acts you'd imagine, and "What Do You Do for Money Honey" has a more limited set of answers than the average secretary would prefer. My sister's glad they don't write fantasy and science fiction, and if you're female you're free to share her relief. Brothers are more deeply implicated in these matters.
The number one pratfall of music critics is that they respond to lyrics more than music. Personally, I think Back in Black is full of gems ("She told me to come but I was already there,") but any appreciation of AC/DC starts with the riffs. What Brian Johnson sings
about doesn't matter as much as what you can sing along to.
(T)he revolutionary heroes I envisage aren't male chauvinists too inexperienced to know better; they don't have hair like Samson and pecs like Arnold Schwarzenegger. That's the image Metallica calls up, and I'm no more likely to invoke their strength of my own free will than I am The 1812 Overture's.
Confirmation that everyone assumes that the music they detest is enjoyed by their enemies from high school.
Musically, Hieronymus Bosch as postindustrial atheist; lyrically, Transformers as kiddie porn.
Industrial Bosch actually sounds kind of great, though I have no idea where the second part came from. Maybe he meant to write "transformers, kids and porn," and turned it off before he got to "Hurt."
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Boyz II Mom
My mom doesn't ask for much, except for a mix CD two days of the year. One of these days comes on a Sunday in May.
Boyz II Mom
With my mom's preferences in mind, metal is at a minimum. Ozzy was of course the first to spring up, and Danzig's "Mother" is almost as cuddly these days. Marc Rizzo from Soulfly pulls off an impressive flamenco number on "Mamasita," but Mom's tastes are more reflected in the Beatles and Stevie Wonder picks.
Of course a Mother's Day mix needs a lot of country ("Mama Tried" being the one I can relate to most,) and I got to rescue 2Pac and Pink Floyd tracks from records that I used to bother Mom with. I actually like both of them better in this context, and I'm hoping she will, too. With the Stones and Beatles, I shunned the obvious choices ("Mother's Little Helper," "Your Mother Should Know") and wound up with better songs. Not that I'm elitist enough to admit it.
Luckily, two of my favorite sources for music, Rob Sheffield and Sound Opinions, also came up with playlists for me to cherry pick from. This resulted in Funkadelic's terrific "Cosmic Slop," which I hadn't realized counts as a mom song, a wistful a capella number from the Beach Boys and most notably, "Treat Your Mother Right," which could not exist if not for mixes like this one.
Listening again, I'm wondering if the Zappa and John Lennon choices were appropriate. I guess that many boys have complicated feelings about their mommies.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom Apatoff.
Download here: Boyz II Mom
Boyz II Mom
- The Beatles, "Mother Nature's Son"
- Warren Zevon, "Mama Couldn't Be Persuaded"
- Mr. T, "Treat Your Mother Right"
- Ozzy Osbourne, "Mama, I'm Coming Home"
- Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention, "Motherly Love"
- Waylon Jennings & Willie Nelson, "Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys"
- Bob Dylan, "Mama, You Been on My Mind"
- Funkadelic, "Cosmic Slop"
- Marc Rizzo, "Mamasita"
- John Lee Hooker, "Mama, You've Got a Daughter"
- The Rolling Stones, "Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby, Standing in the Shadow?"
- Neil Young, "New Mama"
- Danzig, "Mother"
- The Jackson 5, "Mama's Pearl"
- 2pac, "Dear Mama"
- Pink Floyd, "Mother"
- Merle Haggard, "Mother Tried"
- John Lennon, "Mother"
- Johnny Cash, "Send a Picture of Mother"
- Paul Simon, "That Was Your Mother"
- The Beach Boys, "Mama Says"
- Stevie Wonder, "Easy Goin' Evening (My Mama's Call)"
With my mom's preferences in mind, metal is at a minimum. Ozzy was of course the first to spring up, and Danzig's "Mother" is almost as cuddly these days. Marc Rizzo from Soulfly pulls off an impressive flamenco number on "Mamasita," but Mom's tastes are more reflected in the Beatles and Stevie Wonder picks.
Of course a Mother's Day mix needs a lot of country ("Mama Tried" being the one I can relate to most,) and I got to rescue 2Pac and Pink Floyd tracks from records that I used to bother Mom with. I actually like both of them better in this context, and I'm hoping she will, too. With the Stones and Beatles, I shunned the obvious choices ("Mother's Little Helper," "Your Mother Should Know") and wound up with better songs. Not that I'm elitist enough to admit it.
Luckily, two of my favorite sources for music, Rob Sheffield and Sound Opinions, also came up with playlists for me to cherry pick from. This resulted in Funkadelic's terrific "Cosmic Slop," which I hadn't realized counts as a mom song, a wistful a capella number from the Beach Boys and most notably, "Treat Your Mother Right," which could not exist if not for mixes like this one.
Listening again, I'm wondering if the Zappa and John Lennon choices were appropriate. I guess that many boys have complicated feelings about their mommies.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom Apatoff.
Download here: Boyz II Mom
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