Larry Coryell and The Eleventh House at the Blue Note
7/17/15
"This music still feels relevant," Larry
Coryell, legendary Jazz guitarist and "Godfather of Fusion," said to
the packed house at The Blue Note Friday night, "and if it feels good,
then it is good."
Coryell and his old band, The Eleventh House, reunited for
a string of dates at the New York club last week. Known for their high-energy
blend of Jazz, Rock, and Funk, the band had gone through a number of personnel
changes during its mid 70s heyday, and the line-up that took to the stage
represented various eras with Coryell being joined by original members drummer
Alphonse Mouzon and Randy Brecker on trumpet, along with long-time member John
Lee on bass and Larry's son Julian, who has participated in several Eleventh
House reunions in the last decade, on second guitar and guitar synthesizer.
Their performance consisted almost completely of material
from their 1974 debut album, Introducing the
Eleventh House with Larry Coryell (ironically, all of the promotional
materials featured the cover image from their second album, Level One, from which virtually no material was
played), focusing mostly on compositions by Coryell and Mouzon. However,
it was clear from the beginning that the band was not merely attempting to
recreate the old sound. They didn't want to pretend they were young. They
didn't want to pretend that nearly 40 years hadn't past. They certainly didn't want
to pretend that they had not spent that time growing as musicians.
These were wiser musicians. Since his time in the original
band, Randy Brecker went from being one of the young upstarts bringing soul and
rock sounds into jazz trumpet playing (and vice-versa, as a founding member of Blood
Sweat and Tears and ubiquitous session man) to his present status as one of the
undisputed greats, a living legend noted for his ability to cross genres while remaining
rooted in Bebop. His solos built from simple, sparse lines and melodies into
powerful, angular statements.
John Lee, who had joined the band just prior to their 1975
album, Level One, added both funk and
melodicism with his bass playing. Not content to merely sit in the groove, he
frequently locked with the guitarists, exchanging phrases.
Larry himself played solos that were tasty and effective,
pulling out a few of his famous fiery and blisteringly fast lines now and again
for punctuation (and maybe to show any doubters that he still could), but was more
often playing expressively, focusing on melodic invention, more about the notes
he played than how fast he could play them. Throughout, his joy at playing with
this group of old friends was palpable, and freely gave them space to work.
Larry's son Julian, the only member not from any of the
seventies incarnations of the band, had his hands full filling the place of original
member, keyboardist Mike Mandel. Mandel, who, aside from Larry, was the only consistent
member of the Eleventh House in the seventies, had not only provided a solid rhythmic
bedrock with his electric piano, but also flowing melodies and sonic experimentation
with his use of analog synthesizers. Consequently, Julian spent a lot of the
show busy with the role of filling that space with the use of using guitar
triggered synths. Outside of that, he also
played some tasty leads, including an elegant solo during "The Funky Waltz"
which began with some beautiful, atmospheric playing, eloquently conversing
with the bassist, and then building to a frenzy which seemed to surprise even
his father, who proudly, and somewhat comically, started to fan him down with a
towel.
In many ways, the strongest link to their old sound was
in Alphonse Mouzon's drumming. Providing the power and relentlessness that originally
drew me to their old recordings (particularly live recordings from that time,
as the band's true energy was never quite captured in the studio), he sounded
as funky and aggressive as he did decades ago, propelling the group while
rhythmically reinventing pieces. Also, as in the past, he added that extra bit
of hipness and flamboyance with unapologetic virtuosity.
The Friday and Saturday evening shows were advertised
that a special guest would be joining the band. Though some hopefulls wondered
if it might be another Fusion guitar god like John McLaughlin, there was more
reasonable speculation that Mike Mandel, who sat out the last Eleventh House
reunion two years ago due to illness, might be making an appearance. That
belief was reinforced by the Nord keyboard sitting behind Randy that went un-played
for most of the show.
Indeed, Mandel did take the stage three-quarters of the
way though the set, and was met with enthusiastic applause. As the band began
playing his composition, "Joy Ride," the reunion felt a little more
complete. Though Mandel was relegated to an electric piano patch on the keyboard
as opposed to his old electronic arsenal, and seemed to lack the dexterity of
his younger years, his presence was warmly welcomed by band members and
audience alike. It was nice seeing Larry showcase Mandel, who had been such a
pivotal collaborator for years even before the Eleventh House band formed.
Concluding their show, the band kicked in with their old,
swinging anthem, "The Eleventh House Blues" with all of the guys
getting their last licks in and clearly just having fun playing with each other.
The music felt fresh and classic at the same time, and the whole evening had a
wonderful feeling of camaraderie, having shared the experience of working
together at a special time when pushing musical boundaries was the order of the
day. Seeing Larry's unbounded delight at working with these guys again made the
music feel that much better.
Skynyrd's Rickey Medlocke, Johnny Van Zant, and Gary Rossington
So for the past week, in the wake of the horrific shootings
in South Carolina, the argument over the flying of the confederate or rebel
flag has raged on, obviously in lieu of more productive discussions about guns
or violence. However, in spite of the fact that I believe that there are bigger
issues to address, I do think that it is a positive thing to address the fact
that for over a century, African-Americans (largely) in the south have had to
contend with a symbol of their oppression shoved in their face every day by
their neighbors, and even be forced to see it flying on government buildings.
Though I hardly believe that it will solve the problem of
deep seated racism in America, to see the rebel flag removed from government
buildings would be a nice symbolic victory. Also, though the rebel flag has its
defenders, I don't think that they have a lobbying organization with the power
of the National Rifle Association, so it's a more realistic goal. Just in the
last week, we have seen many unexpected people come out in support of taking
the flag down from state Capitol buildings (though, again, it's probably easier
for the likes of Mitt Romney to come out as anti-rebel flag than anti-gun), and
even seen it removed from the Capitol grounds in Alabama.
Still, this will probably not have a huge effect on people
who wish to fly the flag on their own property. In fact, it has already been
seen that some wish to deny the racist aspects of the rebel flag, and see this
movement as an assault on their culture and their rights. (Surprise, surprise,
most of these people are white.)
You may remember when the classic southern rock band Lynyrd
Skynyrd stated in 2012 that they would be no longer be using the rebel flag in
their concerts. Their fans had a shit fit.
When promoting their latest album Last of a Dyin' Breed, band members Johnny Van Zant , Gary
Rossington, and Rickey Medlocke said in a CNN interview that they had stopped
using the flag because of the racial connotations. "We didn't want to be
associated with that particular thing," lead singer Johnny Van Zant said.
It was an admirable step forward, albeit of a bit late one, for a band whose
members and fan base largely consist of self-proclaimed rednecks. It should be
noted, however, that they still remained ignorant of the fact that the flag's
racist meanings are inherent, believing that the negative connotations are
somehow something new. Guitarist (and sole remaining founding member) Gary
Rossington asserted that "through the years, you know, people like the KKK
and skinheads and people have kind of kidnapped the Dixie or rebel flag from
the southern tradition and the heritage of the soldiers. That's what it was
about. And they kind made it look bad in certain ways." One could say that
he's kind of full of shit and that he is deluded in thinking that the flag did
not represent racial oppression from the very beginning, but on the other hand,
at least it's clear that Lynyrd Skynyrd doesn't want to be associated with the
KKK. That's a step, right?
Don't get me wrong. I think that Lynyrd Skynyrd is a fine
band. Sure, those who know me will remember how, in that past, I've referred to
them as a "second rate Allman Brothers," and I do stand by that, but being a second
rate Allman Brothers is better than being a first rate Grand Funk Railroad (if
that makes any sense). With their powerful three guitar line-up they were a
force to be reckoned with. At their best, they were powerful, hard-rocking, and
lyrical at the same time, bombastic, yet unpretentious. Though they didn't flaunt the influence of
black artists, it was clear that their sound was a marriage of all the sounds
of the south, from country, to blues and soul. I do not have a single bad thing
to say about the original Skynyrd (which disbanded in 1977 after the plane
crash which took the lives of guitarist Steve Gaines, and leader and front-man
Ronnie Van Zant among others).
Sure, many of their fans were rednecks. Sure the band flew
the confederate flag at their concerts. I'm not going to defend the use of a
symbol that is so clearly associated with racism and slavery, but I will posit
that there was a time when it was easier to be blissfully ignorant of that
association. Even the Allman Brothers, who, unlike Skynyrd, tacitly
acknowledged the influence of black artists and proudly had a multi-ethnic
line-up, occasionally used the confederate flag in promotional materials.
Thus, I will not begrudge Lynyrd Skynyrd's for their use of
the confederate flag during the 70s (I'm sure it's easier for me as a white
dude), but I will be fiercely critical of anyone who continues to fly that flag
now that its true meaning is clearly known and emphasized. It is amazing to me
that there are people who still maintain that it is a symbol of southern pride
and nothing more, declaring that it is not racist in the slightest in spite of
the fact that it is a symbol of an insurrectionist movement originally based on
preserving the right to own human beings.
Well, these people exist, and a lot of them are Skynyrd
fans.
The outcry that erupted among the band's fan base in 2012
was swift and vicious (as swift and vicious as internet trolling gets, I
suppose). It was so bizarre to see how many Skynyrd fans were so vocal in the
defense of the flag and their anger at the band for abandoning it. They took it
really personally, and vented in their messages. A beautiful example comes from
some dude calling himself celtwarrior who wrote "skynyrd scalawags: now
there is a catchy name. Love that Yankee money don't you Rossington and crew."
(It should be noted that were a number of fans who applauded the band's
decision, and also noted that the original band was considerably more left-leaning.)
It takes a special kind of asshole to defend an indefensible
symbol. It also takes a special kind of asshole to try to tell artists what
they should do. And so it saddened me to see the group bow to the wishes of
this bunch of highly specialized assholes and declare that they would continue
to use the flag as a backdrop at their concerts.
Soon after the announcement and the backlash, Gary
Rossington wrote on the band's website: "Myself, the past and present
members (that are from the South), are all extremely proud of our heritage and
being from the South. We know what the Dixie flag represents and its heritage;
the Civil War was fought over states rights."
Way to take a stand guys.
A less seditious makeover
To their credit, looking at the Lynyrd Skynyrd website
today, the confederate flag was hardly to be found. I didn't see it in any
stage photos. Looking hard, I found that they still sell some guitar picks that
have the rebel flag in their design, but most of the website made prominent use
of the American flag instead. Perhaps they ultimately did what happened at the
Alabama Capitol building and should be done all over: Take it down when no
one's looking and unceremoniously let the symbol disappear.
A little disclaimer here. I am aware that not all Skynyrd fans
are idiotic reactionaries. At the same time, I don't feel bad making fun,
particularly after reading comments fans left on the CNN website ("'Sweet
Home Massachusetts' has kind of a nice ring to it") made me realize that to
a number of these people, an association with my home state is the worst insult
ever.
So, Stan Freberg died a couple of months ago, and I was
really sad about that. I had been a fan of his since I was 17 and was
introduced to his playfully satirical brand of comedy via his classic 1961
album, Stan Freberg Presents the United States of America, Vol. 1: The Early Years. Though I was
aware that he was not very popular with many people my age (to say nothing of
the younger generation), I still thought that his death would be bigger news.
Even though he hasn't been a household name for probably a few decades now, I
thought that there would be a bigger recognition of his works and cultural
contributions and a greater outpouring of appreciation from people who had
loved his work and who had been influenced by him. Indeed, there were some
wonderful tributes to him, including a wonderful piece in the New York Times,
but generally when I would mentioned his passing in conversation, people would
usually look at me quizzically. Generally, people older than I would remark
that they thought he had died long ago, while people my age had no idea who he
was.
Stan (right), with Daws Butler and June Foray
Over the years I had managed to turn a handful of my
friends onto his work by way of a few recordings that I had accumulated in the
mid-90s including a collection of the early episodes of his eponymous (and
short-lived) radio show. They were not easy to find then in the days before
Amazon and eBay, when you actually had to look for stuff in stores or catalogs.
Upon hearing of Stan's death, I decided to try to find the second (and final)
set of episodes of The Stan Freberg Show (it only lasted 15 episodes, largely
because, in spite of the fact that they had long sponsored Jack Benny when he was in that time slot, he would not allow the tobacco companies to be sponsors; He was
as principled as he was funny). It was hardly any easier than it had been 20
years ago.
What I discovered in looking for the collection confirmed
my beliefs about Stan Freberg's popularity in the present age: While generally
warmly, but vaguely, remembered by many a boomer, he really is largely a cult
figure. Beloved by people who avidly listen to Dr. Demento's radio show and
still collect old novelty records, his fans today are hugely enthusiastic and
relatively few. He is seemingly not popular enough to ensure that his recordings
are kept in print, but beloved enough that old copies become collector's items
and fetch handsome prices. That can make the search a bit of a pain in the ass,
and expensive, to boot.
(As a side note, I ended up buying it on eBay on cassette
from someone in Nevada [we'll call her"Dotty"] whose eBay listings
looked less like a vintage record shop than a small town garage sale. Upon
receiving it, after ripping through the layers of plastic, cardboard and
bubble-tape and finally getting to the package itself, I found that,
peculiarly, it was nicely gift-wrapped in tasteful floral paper. This was
definitely a first for my eBay purchases. So either Dotty was re-gifting, or
she really just believes in spreading a little sunshine.)
Again, I totally understand why most people my age don't
know Stan Freberg's work. As one of the last great radio artists and among the
early pioneers of television (particularly in advertising), his influence is
still considerable, even if not recognized by the next generation. Many younger
people are simply unaware that Stan was one of giants on whose shoulders
everyone would stand thereafter. I think
that he would get more props from my generation (I'm actually not that young,
as technically I fit in with Gen X and, well, as for the millennials, they're a
lost cause) if they knew just how much he had done, and how much his work
influenced some of our childhood and contemporary favorites. Thus, below I have
tried to come up with a few examples of the many things that Stan was a part
of, as well as things that illustrate the ripple effect that he had in his decades of
unrelenting creativity.
Time for Beany
Stan and Cecil
While created by legendary animator (and co-creator of
Bugs Bunny) Bob Clampett, It was Stan's voice and puppeteering (alongside the
man who would become a long-time collaborator, voice-artist legend, Daws Butler,
well known for creating the voices of Yogi Bear and Elroy Jetson among many
others) on that low-budget kid's TV show that so brilliantly balanced whimsy
and sly adult humor so as to become popular with children and twisted grown-ups
alike. So enthusiastic was its fan-base that it was reported that, in order not
to miss a single episode, Albert Einstein abruptly left a meeting of Nobel
Prize winners declaring: "Excuse me gentlemen, it's time for Beany."
("I hope that's true," Frank Zappa said in an interview in which he stated
that his affinity for Einstein was based on his hair and their mutual love of
the show.) As a side note, when revived as the animated cartoon Beany and Cecil
in the 60s, one young fan named Angus Young (later, of course, to become the
driving force behind the band AC/DC) was inspired by the business card of the
character Dishonest John, which read: "Dirty deeds done dirt cheap.
Special rates for Sundays and holidays." A rock classic was born.
Looney Tunes
"A whooooole lotta lumps!"
If you didn't know that Stan Freberg provided a number of
voices for Looney Tunes, there's a good reason for that. While the genius of
Mel Blanc cannot be overstated, contrary to what is commonly accepted, he was
not the only voice artist to work on Warner Brothers cartoons. For years,
several performers provided voices for Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies
cartoons and were uncredited. (Does the name Arthur Q Bryant ring a bell? Well,
he was the voice of Elmer Fudd.) In fact, for years, even Mel's name was absent
from the opening title cards until one day he asked for a raise and received screen
credit instead. While Freberg did voices for a number of characters including
Pete Puma and Chester the Terrier, he only received a credit on the stand-alone
short "Three Little Bops," a jazz retelling of the Three Little Pigs
(the soundtrack of which featured west coast jazz legends Shorty Rogers and
Barney Kessel). Incidentally, another talented voice actor who frequently did
uncredited work on Warner Brothers cartoons was the great June Foray, notably
as Granny (Tweety's owner) and Witch Hazel, and would later create the voice of
Rocky the Flying Squirrel. She would also collaborate with Stan Freberg on his
radio show and numerous albums and commercials spanning several decades.
"John!... Marsha!"
It was one of those things that I kept hearing throughout
the years, knowing it was a reference to something, but never knew where it
originated. I first heard that passionate call and response in a Looney Tunes
cartoon when I was a kid (it was one featuring Bugs Bunny and the Tasmanian
Devil). Obviously, at that time, I did not get that it was a reference to Stan's popular novelty record of 1951. "John
and Marsha" parodied soap operas of the day by having the titular
characters acting out a strange, semi-erotic, mood-swinging psycho-drama while saying nothing except each
other's names. It definitely is a product of its time, and it would probably be
corny if it wasn't so bizarre (I think that can be said for much of Freberg's
humor). Television viewers a generation later would be similarly confounded by
the reference when the scene was reenacted on Mad Men by Elizabeth Moss and her
co-worker. As Freberg would ultimately become a pioneer of television
advertising, being the first to truly inject satire and absurdism into
commercials, the tribute was quite appropriate.
Which leads us to..
Encyclopedia Britannica
Remember that irritating little geek in those
Encyclopedia Britannica commercials? The one who had a report due on space?
Well, that was Donavan Freberg, Stan's young son helping his dad out on one of
his commercials. Given Freberg's genius in crafting bizarre commercials laced
with satire, irony, and absurd humor, I wouldn't be surprised if that annoying
little pipsqueak was actually intentionally grating. Probably not, though. While
those commercials did play with and poke fun at many standard advertising
hallmarks ("And I supposed you're going to throw one of those 800 numbers
up on the screen") it was hardly Freberg's most memorable work, coming
towards the tail end of a career in which he created television spots that would make the product
memorable in the eyes of the viewers, even as it sometimes denigrated the
clients themselves ("Zagnut by any
other name... would probably be a good thing."). In the era when TV
commercials were still common for record albums, the ad for Herb Alperts'
Fandango, complete with a giant exploding taco, is self-referential,
psychedelic Madison Avenue at its best and worst, and demands to be seen. I
wish I had been in the room when the pitched that one to the famous trumpeter.
The Weird Al Show
I think more people my age like "Weird Al" Yankovic
than would probably admit it. As for myself, I can only say that his early
videos for "Eat It" and "I Lost on Jeopardy" came out not
too long after I had made the transition from Sesame Street to MTV and had an indelible impact on me, just as
Freberg had had an indelible impact on him (his first exposure to his work was
when someone in his middle school played "John and Marsha" over the
P.A. system in the middle of the day). He would later cast Stan in his
short-lived (even shorter-lived than Stan's show, in fact) The Weird Al Show. Of the experience, Yankovic would later write in
Variety Magazine: "As long as I live, I’ll never forget what an enormous
thrill it was for me to wake up every morning knowing that I’d be working
alongside my hero, the great Mr. Freberg."
The Simpsons
Okay, this is more an example of the ripple effect, because, no, as far as I know, Stan Freberg was never on the
Simpsons. However, the brand of humor and the voice stylings of the show would
not be the same without him. Matt Groening acknowledged him as an early influence
via records in his father's collection (probably including albums compiled from
skits on his radio show), leading the young future cartoonist to record his own
"Matt Groening Shows" on a reel-to-reel tape recorder. In addition,
multi-character voice artist Harry Shearer, who recently announced his
resignation from the show (Say it ain't so, Harry!), was an admirer and collaborator,
performing on Stan Freberg Presents the United States of America, Vol. 2: The
Middle Years, and hosted a tribute to the man and his work only a few
months ago. And though it's a bit of a stretch, it also can be noted that Nancy
Cartwright, the voice of Bart Simpson and others, was mentored by Stan's
longtime collaborator, Daws Butler.
Star Wars
Okay, now I'm really stretching it... No, Stan was not in
Star Wars either, but his absence did end up making quite a difference.
Originally, George Lucas' idea of the C-3PO character was that he would be sort
of callow and slimy, and intended him to have a voice like a slick car
salesman. It was reported that when Stan Freberg auditioned to be the voice of
C-3PO and heard the raw, on-set vocals of actor Anthony Daniels that he was intended
to dub over, he suggested to Lucas that Daniel’s own voice was decent and
better fit the character. Thus, he deprived himself of a lucrative gig, and also became indirectly responsible for
the C-3PO character as we all know and love, and are sometimes irritated by.
Basically, I hope that I have illustrated that, even if
you never heard of him, almost everybody who creates the things that you love,
loved and admired Stan Freberg. As a huge fan myself, I feel like I am good
company.
That's about all I have to say. For the newly initiated
who are interesting in checking out more stuff, I would recommend starting with
the album that started it all for me, Stan Freberg Presents the United States
of America, Vol. 1: The Early Years. I was introduced to this album during a
summer theatre program between my junior and senior year in high school. I got
to study comedic acting with the highly versatile David Ogden Stiers. A somewhat
eccentric, but very generous man (at least during the brief time I knew him),
outside of class, he invited groups of us to a couple of sessions to sit and
listen to what he considered to be quintessential radio and album comedy. We
sat and listened to that album start to finish. Turning American history on its
head, it largely pre-figured "Mr. Peabody's Improbable History" from
Rocky and Bullwinkle (in fact, many of voice actors from the album went on to
form the cast of that cartoon show). The humor was irreverent, as full of
bizarre aural trickery and humor as the more pointed, but, playful satire. Though,
like the best old radio shows, it used
the lack of visuals as a way to create even more bizarre spectacles in the
imagination, it was structured more like a Broadway musical, with the tightly
constructed skits linking together simple, but hummable tunes with some of the
wittiest (and sometimes most questionable) lyrics on this side of Tom Lehrer.
In short, I was hooked. A couple of years later, when the long awaited Vol. 2:
The Middle Years came out (a mere 35 years after the original), I was pleased
to find David Ogden Stiers in the cast. Sadly, the projected Volume 3, was
never made.
Exploring the Impact of Police Academy on Long Island
City Radio
Walker doing his best imitation of the Turin Shroud.
Being a long-time resident of Long Island City and a denizen
of Dominie's Hoek (for outsiders, it's a bar in LIC where only the finest
degenerates congregate), I recently started listening to Walker's show on LIC
Radio. Those who listen to the show and know (the mononymous) Walker in person,
know that what they hear is very much the real Walker. Sure, the show is Long
Island City focused, but only to the extent that he uses air-time to bust the
chops of his neighborhood cronies, and occasionally snidely delivers something
resembling local news. Mostly, it's just Walker being Walker: Playing a few
tunes, riffing in an exaggerated radio banter voice (again, he sounds like this
in real life) that both indulges in the tacky morning show style lowbrow humor
while snarkily satirizing it at the same time. All the while, he relies heavily
on a bank of sound effects, partly to enhance that morning drive-time jockey
effect, but mostly it's just for his own amusement.
So I felt Walker's pain when I heard that he had lost
access to one of his favorite sound-bites: a sample of the opening notes of the
song "El Bimbo," as heard in the Police Academy movies. Most people
don't even know the name of the song, but
because of its association with the gay leather bar in those movies,
it's usually referred to as "The Blue Oyster." Also because of that
association, Walker playfully and relentlessly (and with impish political incorrectness)
uses it a way to poke fun at his friends.
I took it upon myself to get this sample back into
Walker's arsenal. After all, I do have the DVD of Police Academy. I bought it around
ten years ago at a time when there was an interest in making sequels and
re-boots of 1980s "snobs vs. slobs" farces. The interest was
apparently brief, as both Police Academy 8 and the proposed Revenge of the
Nerds reboot were cancelled sometime around 2006. For some reason, I remember
being upset by this at the time. These movies, while hardly quality films, were
quite a big part of my childhood. While on the surface, they were mostly just
cheap laughs and gratuitous nudity (not that there's anything wrong with that),
the message behind most of these movies is that the weirdos, the un-cool, the
misfits can prevail. For a dork in the eighties, that was one hell of a
message.
So on one hand, I loved the movies because they spoke to
me as an outcast, but on the other hand, it was simply an example of a style of
movies that became ubiquitous during my youth. I mean, if you went a multiplex
or had cable TV in the 80s, there was no escape from this particular brand of
entertainment.
Bear with me for a second and I will explain exactly how,
for a time in the eighties, almost every comedy was a variation on Police
Academy.
Ted McGinley knows how to wear a sweater.
The term “Snobs vs. the Slobs” can be attributed to the
ad campaign for Caddyshack, an early, but certainly not the first, film to
use these simplistic archetypes as vehicles for sexual and scatological humor.
While neither epithet sounds particularly appealing, inevitably we are supposed
to side with the “slobs,” who somehow represent a counterculture (or maybe an
anti-culture), despite the fact that they, while often free-spirited, tended to
be apolitical. Their sworn enemy, “the snobs,” obviously represent the status
quo. They are “the man” that we are to “stick it to.” Again, specific political
ideals are eschewed; instead they represent a basic elitism. In these movies,
it usually coming from inherited wealth, visually illustrated by a tendency to
wear a sweater draped over one's shoulders with the sleeves tied together
forming a make-shift ascot. While a class war is insinuated, in the movies, they
rarely are more than bullies or party spoilers. Keeping the archetypes as
simple and stereotypical as possible is hugely important because character
development requires time that could be better spent on a tasteless gag, often
involving a horse.
Even though it was the promotional materials for
Caddyshack that first employed the term, it was arguably Animal House that was,
if not the first, certainly the most celebrated early example of the genre.
Using college life as its locale and its vehicle, the film elegantly and
voluminously heaped on the gross-out humor without ever being overshadowed by
the plot. The characters were painted in broad strokes of black and white. In
fact, the movie appears to be quite deliberately and self-consciously
apolitical, taking place in 1962, a time before the civil rights movement and
the war in Vietnam made college hi-jinx considerably less quaint.
Caddyshack added the element of sports, giving the story a
built in curve, climaxing with a final competition. This became standard for so
many subsequent movies of this type. Underdog literally beats the high and
mighty at their own game. Think Rocky with fart jokes (or Rocky II, because
yes, I know that Rocky lost the first bout). It ended up spawning a plethora of
B-movies involving misfits, tits, and some type of ski race or white water
rafting.
Police Academy, on the other hand, borrowed most heavily
from the third major example of the genre: Stripes. The classic Bill
Murray/Harold Ramis movie took the “snobs vs. slobs” genre into a militant,
institutionalized setting, giving the lovable slob the opportunity to buck the
system initially, but ultimately to excel within the institution in spite of,
or because of, his or her anti-social tendencies.
One could say that Animal House, Caddyshack, and Stripes,
created the blueprint for virtually all films that were on after ten o’clock on
any pay cable station in the mid-1980s (with the occasional regurgitation of Cannonball
Run thrown in for good measure every now and then), Police Academy obviously
included. And it goes without saying that none of these second generation
movies were in any way as good as the initial triumvirate.
Steve Guttenberg does not approve of this article.
Police Academy does stand apart from this riff-raff,
however. Seriously, how many of these cheesy 80s movies spawned six, count
them, six sequels? Even Revenge of the Nerds only spawned three, and two of
them were made for TV. Also, we can’t forget how the series helped to kick-start
the careers of luminaries such as Kim Cattrall and… David Spade… uh, Bobcat
Goldthwait, and uh… well, I guess that’s about… no wait, how could I forget
Michael “I could sure used some work right about now” Winslow? You know, the
guy who made all the mouth sounds? The guy who cracked up everybody back in
1984, but looking back, doesn’t really do much in the movie? Okay, you know
what? I can make fun all I want, but the fact that the movie spawned six
sequels (and almost a seventh), two TV series (one animated, one live-action)
and a theme park show is pretty amazing when one considers that the actual
level of quality is such where one might hear oneself say: "Man, those
movies started to go downhill when Steve Guttenberg left."
Yes, the movies were crap. But they were my crap. The
first Police Academy movie was probably the first R-rated movie I ever saw in a
movie theatre. Sure it was crass, politically unenlightened, homophobic,
exploitative, and just plain moronic, but... well, there were a lot of tits,
and a guy got his head stuck up a horses ass, and there was that guy who made
funny noises, and did I mention the tits? (Not Kim Cattrall's though, who was
clothed the whole time, the film's biggest flaw.)
Does this make me sound immature? Hey, I was seven years
old when I saw this movie (yes, my parents took me when I was seven). This was
the days of giggling at Dad’s Playboys, kissing the pages and getting a
miniature version of an erection that I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with
yet. And yet, immature as I was, watching Police Academy made me feel more
adult, because the grown men in that movie were as sexually insipid as I was.
Ogling and clumsily chasing Kim Katrall's luxurious thighs (her words, not mine),
or Leslie Easterbrook’s ample nay-nays, all the while showing no more
experience or sophistication that I had as a kid in elementary school. It was
as if these guys were just overactive kids in men’s bodies. Trying to go all
the way before midnight strikes, their cop car turns back into a pumpkin, and
they turn back into the seven year olds that they really are, running back to
their friends to tell them how they got to grope a boob.
So, yeah, that's why I happened to have Police Academy on
DVD.
Where was I ? Oh yeah, Check out Walker's show on LIC
Radio. Weekdays at 3:00pm.
A
Retrospective Album Review with Minimal Commentary on Online Commerce
So I just bought Frank Zappa’s archival release Road
Tapes, Venue #2: Finlandia Hall, Helsinki Finland, and if you like Zappa,
you probably should too. It features the short-lived Over-Nite
Sensation line-up of the Mothers, including at that time the great
George Duke on keys, as well as jazz violinist Jean-Luc Ponty, exploring more
expansive instrumental territory than the album that they had just completed.
By turns jazzy and discordant, with Zappa’s trademark “humanly impossible”
compositions, it is a wonderful document of one of the most celebrated of the
line-ups of The Mothers.
The Road Tapes series, of which
there are presently only two, is relatively new, focusing on “guerilla” concert tapes, recorded on more primitive equipment, usually on tour stops outside of major metropolises where sophisticated multi-track tape machines would be more readily available. Sold almost exclusively through Barfko-Swill, the official online Zappa store, the Venue #2 set actually came out towards the end of 2013. I am almost ashamed to have gotten it only now, but I had my reasons…
See, for years Zappaheads have been irked by
Barfko-Swill, due to what they thought were inflated prices (indeed, years ago,
the RykoDisc re-masters of the Zappa catalog were sold on the site for almost
50% more than most retail stores, but since the rights to the music have
reverted back to the Zappa Family Trust, the prices on the site have been much
more reasonable) and inclusion of products of questionable value, hodgepodges
of poor quality rehearsal tapes and outtakes. Also, to this day, Barfko-Swill
has the annoying tendency to list new releases while giving very little
information about the content. For example, the only information provided
regarding One Shot Deal, a release from several years ago, is that
it “[m]akes its own sauce” and is a “[s]hocking summer surprise for
no reason at all!” Frankly, a track listing would be more helpful. When
all too often, retrospective releases can seem like a cash-grab, it’s things
like this that really drive that point home. It seems like the Zappa Family
Trust thinks that we should just buy anything that they deign to sell us.
I feel like I am in a comfortable position to
say this. As a youth, I spent several years accumulating the complete Zappa
catalog, and with over 60 releases during his lifetime, Zappa has the honor of
being the musician to whom I have given the most money. I must say, I kind of
resent this treatment. I may be a fanatic, but I’m not a chump.
On the other hand, as the Zappa Family Trust is
so fervently dedicated to the protection of Zappa’s works and legacy, it means
that many of these recordings have been carefully and lovingly restored. Also,
unlike bands like the Grateful Dead, many of these recordings have not been
available as bootlegs or widely traded tapes. Some of these archival releases
have indeed filled in some long existing gaps. For example, the 2007 release Wazoo marked
the first time that any live recordings of Zappa’s 20 piece “Hot Rats/Grand
Wazoo” big band were made commercially available, and the quality of the
release almost made it worth the 35 year wait.
Thus I had high hopes for this new Road
Tapes release, and certain expectations of quality. As you have
probably gleaned from the opening sentence of this post, I was not
disappointed.
Hardcore Zappa fans have probably heard live
recordings of this line-up before. Recorded on August 23rd and
24th of 1973 in Helsinki, this set was recorded days after the
performance captured on the classic bootleg, Piquantique, recorded
in Stockholm. Road Tapes, Venue #2, features many of the same
pieces, with many more besides, and with obviously hugely improved sonic
quality. Like that classic bootleg, it also shows the bridge between the
instrumental albums Waka/Jawaka and The Grand Wazoo,
and the celebrated live album Roxy and Elsewhere.
In comparison to the recordings made later at
the Roxy in Los Angeles, The Road Tapes sound comparatively
subdued, attributable partly to the mix, but also to the fact of personnel
changes in the interim, which included gaining an additional drummer and losing
a violinist before they took the stage at the Roxy in December. This is not to
say that the Road Tapes do not have moments of intense power.
In fact, it could be said that the set is much more dynamic. While Roxy
and Elsewhere surely illustrated both the band’s finely honed chops
and their stage antics, the Helsinki Road Tapes showed the band in a more jazzy
mode, demonstrating a more delicate virtuosity, stretching out on mostly
instrumental pieces showcasing some of the most elegant aspects of Zappa’s
composition and the interplay of one of his finest bands. The older pieces
included are arranged in ways that suit this incarnation of the band, and are
huge departures from the original versions. In addition, many of the newer
pieces would receive extensive reworking before being official released. Some
pieces would never sounds better, earlier or later.
Zappa, 1974. Photo by Jerry Aronson
Particularly of note is "RNDZL." In my
opinion, no official recorded release of "RNDZL" ever perfectly
captured that piece (although the You Can’t Do That On Stage Anymore,
Volume 2 version, recorded a year later, also in Helsinki, came
close). While the Road Tapes version does not contain the
melodic section that Zappa added after the departure of violinist Jean-Luc
Ponty later in the year (a section which I always thought disrupted the pace of
the piece), the propulsiveness, provided by the percussion section of drummer
Ralph Humphrey and vibraphonist Ruth Underwood, and the marvelous soloing of
Zappa, Ponty, and Duke, may make this the definitive official recording. While
some pieces like the "Village of the Sun"/"Echidna’s Arf (of
You)"/"Don’t You Ever Wash That Thing" suite pale in comparison
with the aggressive and tight recording on Roxy and Elsewhere, the
incredible versions of "Dupree’s Paradise" and "Farther
O’Blivion" make me wonder why this tape was sat on for so long.
Road Tapes, Venue #2 is truly this is one of those archival releases that will
thrill not only hardcore Zappaheads, but also people who may not be on that
train yet, but have adventurous tastes and still unapologetically listen to
music in the early 70s jazz-fusion milieu (okay, that’s a pretty specific group
of people). It’s a great release from a time when Zappa finally had that group
of musicians, made up of crack session musicians and future jazz legends, that
could realize the kind of music that he wanted to compose, and bring a
beautiful human element to it. So I highly recommend going to the Barfko-Swill
website and getting a copy. Believe it or not, it’s cheaper there than on
Amazon. I checked.
Link Between Christian Rock and Mental Illness Found
Rock Royalty, Scott Stapp
Last week, news surfaced that Creed frontman Scott Stapp made
threats against President Obama before jumping on a bicycle with a bag full of
papers which he asserted proved that he was an agent of the CIA charged with
assassination. Stapp has denied the allegations (as anyone, sane or otherwise,
would naturally do).
According to People Magazine,
the Secret Service are aware of the threats and taking “appropriate action.”
A member of the Secret Service, who spoke to me under the
condition of anonymity, told me that the agency is currently trying to
determine whether the threat is credible or not. “Naturally, all threats of
this sort need to be taken seriously,” he said, “but let’s be serious. Scott
Stapp? Even President Obama thinks he’s a pussy.”
Later, President Obama, also speaking under the condition
of anonymity, told me that, more than concern for his own safety, he felt
sympathy for a man who was clearly in the midst of a mental health crisis. “Obviously,
my heart goes out to Mr. Stapp and his loved ones, and I sincerely hope that he
is able to get the care that he needs. I also hope that these recent episodes
will not overshadow the achievements of a man who used his talents as a second-rate
Eddie Vedder sound-alike to try to bridge the gap between Christian and
mainstream rock. Honestly, I’m not sure that was such a good idea but… I mean,
really, I know a lot of people apparently listen to Christian rock, but nobody
that I’d want to talk to. If we’ve learned anything from this episode, it’s
that you have to crazy to be into that garbage.”
Dr. Richard Branleur (artist's conception)
Elaborating on the connection between mental illness and
Christian rock, clinical psychiatrist Dr. Richard Branleur, speaking under the
condition of severe intoxication, emphasized that mental illness needs to be de-stigmatized
and addressed as something that is, if not curable, is at least treatable. He
stated, though, that the effects of Christian rock were less easy to address,
and in the his opinion, should not be free of stigma, if for no other reason
than to deter people from embracing a genre which, in fact, could have a
negative effect on mental health.
“Christian rock puts the practitioner in a classic double
bind. He is beholden to two different and morally diametrically opposed
masters. Rock and Roll speaks to rebellion and self-expression, Christianity
speaks to submission and placing one’s salvation outside of oneself. In other
areas of life, these opposing viewpoints can often find balance, but not when
these mixed signals originate from the same oppressive and solitary source. Also,
the victim is unable to escape from the situation, as the Christianity aspects
demands devotion, and Rock and Roll, ideally, is impossible to ignore. Mr. Stapp’s situation would really be quite
sad if we weren’t talking about the guy who polluted the radio with self-righteous
dreck and once challenged (Limp Biscuit frontman) Fred Durst to a boxing match.
I mean, talk about a conundrum. I was hoping there was some way that they could
both lose.”
“Are your
assertions based on any textual analysis of Christian rock, or the music of
Creed?” I asked.
“Fuck no. I don’t listen to that shit,” he responded
before kicking me out of his office.
Trying to Not Let a Bad Movie Ruin an Old Favorite
No real need to see this movie
The other day I went to my local multiplex to see Transcendence, the new techno-thriller
starring Johnny Depp. As a movie about the possibilities and consequences about
replicating or transferring intelligence and consciousness into digital
networks, it had the potential of exploring many scientific, sociological, and
philosophical issues raised by our actual current technological environment. As
a big budget Hollywood movie, of course, it did none of this or did so in the
most cursory, and/or ham-fisted ways. This did not surprise me, of course, nor
was I surprised by the ponderousness of the script, or the heavy-handed use of
religious metaphors. What I was surprised at was hearing Jorma Kaukonen’s beautifully
wistful 1974 song “Genesis,” playing throughout the movie.
My first thought was, hey, good for Jorma. It’s a beautiful song
and he deserves the windfall of royalties that he’ll be (or should be)
receiving due to its prominent placement in a major motion picture.
My second thought was specifically about how the song was
used. Though it seemed like an odd choice at first, the pastoral song seemed to
be a nice, albeit completely unsubtle, counterpoint to the paranoid techno-fear
theme of the movie. The characters seemed to recognize this. The song is heard
in the film when the main characters of Dr. Will Castor and his wife Evelyn
(played by Depp and Rebecca Hall respectively) repeatedly play the LP on their
portable turntable as a way of distancing themselves from the technologies to
which they devote their lives and work. In fact, the actual physical record is
shown to be a prized possession for the couple and, as the film goes on, a nostalgic
artifact of their earlier simpler lives before murder, robotics, and other
amusements intervened. There was one thing that bothered me, though, and that
was that the filmmakers or set-designers or whoever is in charge of these decisions,
decided to give the LP a different, older looking label.
Does this label seem too modern?
I was almost embarrassed to write that last line. I mean,
what kind of geek would care about something like this? Here’s the thing, I
think it matters more than some other trivial inaccuracy that only a sexually
frustrated overgrown child living in his mother’s basement would point out. The
reason I think it matters is that by making album look older, it seemed as
though the filmmakers were trying to make the practice of playing records and
cherishing them appear to be an even older and more antiquated practice than it
already is. One that is more associated with industrial revolution era luddites than
something from our own childhood memories. Why did they have to make it seem so
foreign? Why do they have to make me feel so damn old?
My last thought was that the song was somehow being taken
away from me. If Transcendence gets
to be widely seen, the song will become far better known than it was a few
weeks ago. Now, I wouldn’t say that the song “Genesis” is all that obscure a
song. In fact, most of my friends would even consider the song to be a bit of a
classic. But then, many of those friends are people who spent the bulk of their
twenties going to hippie music festivals and have a preference for, how shall I
say it, post-psychedelic roots music.
Jorma Kaukonen, circa 1978
My own introduction to the song was when I saw Jorma perform
at The House of Blues in Cambridge, Massachusetts, sometime in the summer of
1998. I was already a fan of Jorma’s through his work with the bands Jefferson
Airplane and Hot Tuna, but I did not know any of his solo work. In the middle
of Jorma’s set of masterful finger-style blues, he dropped in the song. Its
lilting melody and contemplative lyrics set it apart from the rest of the
pieces, even in an all acoustic show. I was taken aback. I asked the guy next
to me what the name of the song was. “Genesis,” he screamed into my left ear.
(Prior to that, when I was hearing audience members shouting
“play ‘Genesis,’” I thought they were drunks who thought that the ensemble in
front of them was a cheesy bar band taking requests and were just dying to hear
“Invisible Touch” at that very moment.)
Quah - 1974 - Grunt Records
I went out the next day and bought a copy of Quah, Jorma’s first solo album which
opens with the song. I immediately began to play the song for everyone who
would visit my studio apartment. I would put it on mix tapes for friends. The
song was my gift for them.
Now it’s just “that song from Transcendence,” and utilized in the movie in such an overly dramatic way as to
make the song seem even more saccharine than it is, and I guess that irks me a
bit. I always feel the need to say that I am not a hipster, but maybe I share
some unfortunate traits with that group, namely the feeling of
self-satisfaction that comes from knowing something that is not common
knowledge in mainstream circles. However, I will defend myself by saying that
while hipsters guard their stockpiles of useless information like Masonic
secrets, I like to turn people on to things that I have discovered, and I guess
I just resent the fact that Transcendence
has taken away my ability to play someone “Genesis” for the first time.
On the other hand, it was nice to see the song used in a way
that reaffirmed the importance of the musical artifact as a thing to be
treasured in of itself. It also illustrated how the power of those objects lies
not only in the ability it give to replay and relive music, but also to share
it with others in a more intimate way than via networks. I know I’m a bit out
of touch, but “Hey man, I want to play you this record” will always trump a
link to a Spotify track or YouTube clip any day of the week. So, in spite of
the fact that I heard the song probably one too many times throughout the
movie, I still went home and played it one more time for just my girlfriend and
myself.
And at any rate, the movie isn’t doing so well. With a bit
of luck, maybe the song will maintain some its semi obscure status.
In many ways, the strongest link to their old sound was
in Alphonse Mouzon's drumming. Providing the power and relentlessness that originally
drew me to their old recordings (particularly live recordings from that time,
as the band's true energy was never quite captured in the studio), he sounded
as funky and aggressive as he did decades ago, propelling the group while
rhythmically reinventing pieces. Also, as in the past, he added that extra bit
of hipness and flamboyance with unapologetic virtuosity.
