It's surprising how many people think Howard Jones was a one-hit wonder, based entirely on the beautiful Everlasting Love and the lack of other hits from the "Cross That Line" album. Now, I adore the album because Howard Jones has an amazing talent that doesn't get enough appreciation, but I can see why he didn't dance all over the Top 10 with the songs on it.
I spent a good chunk of the 80s basking in the warm, rich sound of Howard Jones and this album saddened me, not because it wasn't beautiful and deep but because I knew it would spell the end of his popularity. By the mid-90s most people had forgotten the hits off "Dream into Action" (and what an amazing crossover that album made) and, when they heard his name, Everlasting Love was the only song they remembered. Ah, well, at least it was a song well worth being known for, even if it was the best you'd ever made.
There are some who say that ska is dead, that the great bands have all moved to punk or funk or rock and roll. They say that the good groups have turned in their two-tone and quit skankin' in exchange for leather and screaming. Not true.
The pop chart love affair with ska, lamentably brief but real, has ended, yes. The Mighty Mighty Bosstones will likely never chart again. Be honest, Sublime was never a ska band in the first place. But ska is alive and well all over the world, as well it should be.
In case you doubt, let me share with you a little post from The NPJ on G+, where I normally blather on these days (hint, hint). As an added bonus, as all the best ska bands do, they've work the genre into their name. Okay, not all the best ska bands, it's just a little quirk that entertains me, like when Mephiskapheles or The Skatalites do it. And now, Bombskare...
This post is a rant only tangentially related to The Ohio Players. That’s okay, because all you really need to know about Love Rollercoaster is that it’s quintessential funk, practically the epitome of the genre. If you don’t know it, listen to it.
The song leapt into my head today and I thought, “I bet that’s how what’s-her-face thinks of herself.” As my familiarity with Nicki Minaj is limited to clips of her lolling about in a metallic bikini for a few seconds in videos for various mashups, I had to find one to uncover her actual name. That’s not quite the point I was trying to make.
That contrast between a modern-day performer—one I think of more as a burlesque act than a musician—with some talented people deservedly famous for their music rather than their willingness to shimmy in very little clothing got me recalling how some remarkably unattractive people with wonderful voices and/or musicianship sold a whole lot of records once upon a time.
Don’t misunderstand my point: appearance has always played a part in marketing. The music industry is no different than any other in that respect. Why else the pre-Photoshop prevalence of soft-focus album covers? Why else the widespread use of matching outfits for bands for every public appearance?
Sex sells, again as it always has, though folks used to have to do it the hard way, in person and then on television. There have always been talentless hacks trading on their appearances. In my rosy view of the past, however, these were flashes in the pan, people who caused a furor and disappeared, one-hit wonders deservedly shoved back into obscurity after their little moment in the sun.
I really did have a point. Talent used to count for more than the willingness to writhe about in your undergarments on the Internet (and this applies to men as much as women, of late). It wasn’t all, but it charted and it sold records. It got recording contracts.
Sure, there’ve been a lot of remarkably bad songs recorded and sold over the past hundred years. A goodly number of them have been about drinking, drugs, and sex. Anyone who denies that is either deluded or lying and is obviously not a fan of funk, disco, or the blues.
This brings me around, full circle, to Love Rollercoaster and the fact that someone singing (and actually singing, rather than approximating and letting a machine hit his or her notes) about so specious a topic can still demonstrate a remarkable ability to make music.
Have a listen to The Ohio Players and let me know what you think. Do you agree or am I relying too heavily on my rose-tinted headphones?
Rather than a memorial post when someone dies, today let's have a post on a living musician's birthday. I know many people don't like Tom Waits. Maybe it's the voice like Louis Armstrong on a five-day bender. Maybe it's the oh-so-caustic wit. But in dismissing him they miss out on gems like Step Right Up.
The song is a compilation of the sorts of pitches with which people have been targeted for centuries, many of them modern, infomercial tag lines but some you can picture an eighteenth-century barker calling out to passing long-skirted ladies and their top-hatted beaus. Well, not in Tom Wait's voice, perhaps. I don't think he'd draw a lot of takers, somehow.
Whatever the case, I'm posting Step Right Up in honor of his birthday. Here's hoping he's enjoying some cake or a slug of whisky...or both...right now.
I’ve become very jaded of late, being forced to listen to the local R&B station every morning. The idea of watching a live performance from any of the artists featured makes me somewhat nauseous and, although I regularly find and enjoy talented musicians who actually play instruments and can sing, some days I begin to wonder if the acts who’ve been touring for twenty or thirty years are the dodos of live music, soon to be extinct. This particular bout of “music these days” depression was brought on by listening to Cheap Trick perform Ain’t That a Shame live. Not only did the song sound like they knew the words and could stay in tune but there was improvising. Guitarists played solos off the cuff rather than faking it to the prerecorded pap. You can’t even tell from the noodling in the intro what song they’re about to play.
That’s what live music should be like: you like the studio recording because of the sound and the band only improves and expands on it in person. Sure, people make mistakes live. Guitar strings break and singers get colds. But performing before an audience should be the heart and soul of a popular musician’s life, not only because that’s where the money grows but because why the bloody heck would you become a professional musician if you didn’t love to play? And the audience should be able to tell that you know and love what you’re doing.
Now that I’ve ranted on for far too long, I’ll let you listen to some music. I think I owe you at least two songs for reading this whole post. If you’ve got a favorite live album or just a single song, please drop me a note and let me know. Please note that I have lots of respect for what people can do to manipulate music electronically and enjoy the results a lot. I’d go see a really good DJ live and I’m sure I’d have a great time. That’s a completely different that the auto-tuned, self-dueting, Casio keyboard button-pushing, no-talent hacks that populate the airwaves ‘round here at 6:30 AM. (Please excuse the ugly player. I'll fix the colors on this one when I'm home and can get to the ones I like.)
It's surprising how many people think Howard Jones was a one-hit wonder, based entirely on the beautiful Everlasting Love and the lack of other hits from the "Cross That Line" album. Now, I adore the album because Howard Jones has an amazing talent that doesn't get enough appreciation, but I can see why he didn't dance all over the Top 10 with the songs on it.
