Showing posts with label rock 'n' roll. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rock 'n' roll. Show all posts

Sunday, January 17, 2016

The Folk-Rock Poetry of Simon and Garfunkel



"April come she will
When streams are ripe
And swelled with rain
May she will stay
Resting in my arms again

"June she'll change her tune
In restless walks
She'll prowl the night
July she will fly
And give no warning
To her flight

"August die she must
The autumn winds blow
Chilly and cold
September I remember
A love once new
Has now grown old"


Paul Simon

As I have said many times — and, no doubt, will say many more times — I think of my mother when I hear a Simon and Garfunkel song. Any Simon and Garfunkel song, really, but definitely some more than others.

I first heard Simon and Garfunkel music through her. First she bought those old 45s, you know? In hindsight, they looked like big, black CDs — except CD technology wasn't around then, and the 45s only had one song on each side (that's right, CD generation, you could listen to both sides of the disc — but only for a few minutes). I guess she bought them because albums really came along later in her life. When she was a teenager and listened to records with her girlfriends, Mom listened to 45s. That is really all there was then.

So I'm sure much of that was habit.

There may also have been some economics involved. Mom was raised to be frugal — a byproduct of the Depression. Buying a whole album was wasteful if you didn't know whether you liked all the songs on the album. Don't get me wrong here. Mom had faith in most things unseen — or unheard — just not recordings.

However, she reached a point in her life when she embraced the album concept without reservation, and her record collection was an honest reflection of her life and times.

Simon and Garfunkel only made five studio albums together. I think Mom probably owned most of them at one time or another, but I don't think she owned the first one. Maybe I just don't remember.

But I definitely remember her having the album that was released on this day in 1966 — "Sounds of Silence." Mom had a fondness for poetry. Now, all of Paul Simon's albums, whether they were made with Art Garfunkel or as a solo act, were poetic, but few albums by any artist can match the poetry of "Sounds of Silence."

By the way, it is interesting — well, I think it is — that the album title was a plural ("Sounds of Silence") but the song title was a singular ("The Sound of Silence") even though it was written as a plural on the original album cover.

I guess the implication was that each song on the album was an individual sound of silence. Collectively, they formed the sounds of silence.

The title song, by the way, is a song that always makes me think of Mom. She had a single of that song first, then she bought the whole album. She wore them both out.

If I close my eyes when I listen to that song, I can see — and hear — Mom singing along with the record. I always thought Mom had a beautiful voice, and it just sounded right singing "The Sound of Silence."

Simon and Garfunkel was on the cusp of what came to be known as folk rock, a merging of the folk and rock styles, and that was a style Mom really liked. I can hear a song today being performed by someone I never heard of before, and if it is in the folk rock style, I think of Mom.

But the "Sounds of Silence" album really isn't the album that I most connect to memories of Mom. That would be the duo's next album — "Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme," which was released in October 1966.

I think of Mom when I hear either album, really, but more the latter and less the former.

Probably my favorite song on the album, "April Come She Will," doesn't make me think of Mom at all. Instead, I think of cold nights during my college days. I listened to it a lot then, just as I did Simon and Garfunkel's rendition at their reunion concert in Central Park, which you can see at the top of this post.

I also think of Mom when I hear the song "I Am a Rock." She had that single, too. It wasn't the B side of "The Sound of Silence." "I Am a Rock" was a single on its own.

And it was a good one, too. Listen for yourself. In addition to being good, it marked a shift in Simon and Garfunkel's sound.

Barely a year had passed since Simon and Garfunkel's debut album, but the sounds from the albums were light years apart. The first album had delicate harmonies supported by acoustic instrumentation. "Sounds of Silence" reflected an edge brought by the emergence of folk rock with the electric guitars and amplification of that genre.

In fact, I have long thought many of the lesser known tracks on "Sounds of Silence" wouldn't have worked on that first album. A good example is "Anji," a kind of bluesy instrumental by Paul Simon. And the thing I always remember about "Richard Cory" is that I had an English teacher who tried, as most probably have and a few at least still do, to galvanize students with the Edward Arlington Robinson poem upon which it was based. She even played the Simon and Garfunkel song from "Sounds of Silence" in class because she thought the song captured the spirit of the poem.

What do you think?

"Whenever Richard Cory went downtown,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored and imperially slim.

"And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
'Good-morning,' and he glittered when he walked.

"And he was rich — yes, richer than a king —
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

"So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head."


Edward Arlington Robinson

I guess my English teacher would be pleased that I am quoting Robinson in one of my posts.

That would reassure her that it was not in vain.

Sunday, July 05, 2015

The Start of Phase 2 of Elvis' Career



In the last two decades of his life, everything Elvis Presley did made news. If he was making a movie, it was in the news. If he recorded a new song, it was in the news.

When he was inducted into the Army, it was in the news.

There was kind of a news blackout on Presley for a couple of years while he was in the Army — although he did have ten top 40 hits between his induction in 1958 and discharge in 1960 so I guess some people hardly knew he'd been away — but once he was discharged from the service in March 1960, his career roared back to life. He had barely been discharged when he was rushed into the studio in the spring of 1960 and recorded two of his biggest hit singles, one of which — "It's Now or Never" — was released on this day in 1960.

It was an interesting thing, that song. It was conceived in almost a casual way. The melody was inspired by "O sole mio," an Italian standard from the 19th century, but the theme of the song was inspired by a recording that had been a modest hit a decade earlier, and the lyrics were written in half an hour by Aaron Schroeder and Wally Gold — who were assigned the task of writing the lyrics because they were the only songwriters in the music publisher's office when he arrived one day.

Yet the song wound up selling more than 20 million copies and is second only to "Hound Dog" on the list of Elvis' top–selling songs.

In January, on what would have been Elvis' 80th birthday, Swide.com wrote about Elvis' Italian legacy and listed the Italian–influenced songs he recorded.

That was an impressive argument, but more persuasive than any song in Presley's musical library, even "It's Now or Never," was this observation:
"Elvis, especially in the second phase of his career — from the '60s on — fell in love with the 'Bel canto,' became a balladeer and between his vocal influences he incorporated Italian tenors Enrico Caruso and his heir, Mario Lanza."

There isn't really a doubt in my mind that his vocal style was suited for Italian ballads, and it was especially obvious, I thought, in his post–Army recordings.

Early in his career, it was often noted that Elvis sounded like a black singer — due, no doubt, to the musical influences of his Mississippi roots — which gave him enormously lucrative cross–over appeal. I don't know if that is true, but the numbers don't lie. He had three dozen #1 hit recordings in his career and made nearly as many movies.

He never really lost that — for lack of a better phrase — black sound, but it didn't seem to dominate his work as it had before.

Much of his work was accomplished after his return from the service, and it is clear to me that his performing style was toned down, less the Delta influence and more the Italian crooner style. He wasn't stationed in Italy, but maybe he was influenced by music he heard on radios in the barracks or live in the clubs of Germany, where he was stationed.

I'm not enough of an Elvis fan to know about that — but I do know that, around the time he recorded "It's Now or Never," Elvis appeared on The Frank Sinatra Timex Show. In addition to his Italian lineage, Sinatra's disdain for rock 'n' roll was well known; long before they appeared on television together, Sinatra said of Elvis' staying power, "Only time will tell. They said I was a freak when I first hit, but I'm still around. Presley has no training at all. When he goes into something serious, a bigger kind of singing, we'll find out if he is a singer. He has a natural, animalistic talent."

Sinatra may well have influenced the second phase of Elvis' career before the first phase had ended.

During his lifetime, Elvis' fans probably would have bought anything that he recorded and, even though the quality of his music tended to suffer after his time in the service, in all likelihood because of the his movie career, it is clear from even a casual listening that the style of his music was different, possibly due to a different ethnic influence than the one he had at the beginning.

He continued to sell records, as always, but they were different. Even "It's Now or Never" was different from what had come before. True, it became Elvis' second–best–selling recording — but it had none of the in–your–face quality of "Hound Dog."

A new age had begun.

Saturday, July 05, 2014

The Dawn of the Age of Elvis



Sixty years ago today, 19–year–old Elvis Presley recorded "That's All Right (Mama)" at Sun Studio in Memphis.

It was the first commercial recording of Presley's career, and it launched him to superstardom.

There are stories of some noteworthy recordings that were made at Sun Studio, which opened 4½ years before Elvis recorded "That's All Right (Mama)" there and changed everything for himself and the studio, but the studio struggled at first, and, apparently, it would record anything in its early years.

In fact, the studio's slogan was "We Record Anything, Anywhere, Anytime." That included recording special events like weddings and baptisms and graduations, and anyone could walk in off the street and make a record — for a fee. That's what Elvis did.

It wasn't his first #1 hit — that was "Heartbreak Hotel" about 18 months later. In fact, it wasn't even the first recording he made at Sun. But it was released a couple of weeks later and went on to become a reasonably big regional hit.

Elvis was really before my time. In fact, I have rarely owned an Elvis album in my life.

I have to give all credit for my first such purchase to my friend Brady, who shared with me his recording of Elvis' Sun sessions — and told me a bit about Elvis' history with Sun. Until that time, I don't think I had heard "That's All Right (Mama)" — or "Blue Moon of Kentucky," the other noteworthy song he recorded 60 years ago.

But I liked them well enough that I went out to get a copy of that record.

It was in August 1953 when Elvis, a recent high school graduate, first walked through the doors of Sun Studio and met a receptionist, who asked him about his musical style. What kind of music did he play? "I sing all kinds," he replied. The receptionist repeatedly asked him who he sounded like. "I don't sound like nobody," he kept saying.

On that occasion, he recorded two songs ("My Happiness" and "That's When Your Heartaches Begin"). The receptionist made a note that he was a "good ballad singer."

Nothing came of it. Nor did anything come from a second session in January 1954, when Elvis recorded "I'll Never Stand In Your Way" and "It Wouldn't Be the Same Without You."

Sam Phillips, the original owner of the studio, was looking for a white singer who sound like he was black; he thought such a performer would be a huge success. He invited Elvis to record some songs on this night in 1954, but the session yielded little until near the end. Elvis started playing "That's All Right (Mama)," a hyped–up version of a 1949 blues number by Arthur Crudup, and the studio musicians who had been working with him that night joined in.

Phillips asked them to start over, and he recorded what they played. It wound up being the demo that he shopped around to local DJs and led to a single that was released on July 19, 1954 — with "Blue Moon of Kentucky," originally a Bill Monroe bluegrass tune that Presley gave a rock 'n' roll makeover, on the B side.

And the rest was rock 'n' roll history.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Rockin' Around the Clock



Sixty years ago today, Bill Haley and His Comets first released "Rock Around the Clock" — their signature song.

Several versions of this song have been recorded, but Haley's version is the one that comes to mind for most folks.

It wasn't the first recording. It wasn't even the first recording for Haley, who started out as a country/western yodeler. After he made his transition to rock 'n' roll, he and his band came to be regarded by many as being as influential on the youth of their day as the Beatles and Rolling Stones were 10 years later.

In fact, the anniversary of the release of Haley's recording seems to have reignited — in some quarters — the debate over whether Haley is the father of rock 'n' roll.

That is a debate I have been hearing much of my life.

When I was growing up, I was under the impression that Elvis Presley was the father of rock 'n' roll. Presley, of course, was born and raised in Mississippi, and he made his adult home about 100 miles away — in Memphis.

I grew up in the neighboring state of Arkansas; being a good Southern boy, it wasn't hard for me to accept that premise — especially since I always believed Southern blues strongly influenced rock 'n' roll, and Presley's style was obviously influenced by the blues.

But, while Presley did make some demo recordings in 1953, they leaned toward ballads. He didn't record his first real rock 'n' roll song until July 1954 — and, by that time, Haley had already released "Rock Around the Clock."

(In fact, the top–selling recording artists of 1954 were Doris Day, Jo Stafford and Eddie Fisher.)

If Presley wasn't the father of rock 'n' roll, I figured it had to be Chuck Berry. Similarly, Berry started out singing the blues. His first rock 'n' roll single, "Maybellene," was recorded and released in 1955.

According to Margaret Moser in the Austin Chronicle, Haley died "haunted, embittered, and neglected" in 1981.

"Haley bought into the pointless argument of who invented rock & roll," Moser wrote, "believing he deserved the title. He had a legit claim, too, having recorded the genre's first bona fide anthem, 'Rock Around the Clock.' The other firsts he deserves credit for have been marginalized along with his memory."

As Moser observed, "Rock Around the Clock" has been credited with being an anthem for the youth of the '50s, but, for a song that supposedly had such an influence on that generation, Rolling Stone only ranked it #159 on its list of the top 500 songs of all time while other songs from the '50s — Elvis' "Hound Dog," "Heartbreak Hotel," "Jailhouse Rock," "Mystery Train," "Suspicious Minds" and "That's All Right" and Berry's "Johnny B. Goode," "Maybellene," "Roll Over Beethoven," and, ironically, "Rock & Roll Music" — were praised more prominently.

Those songs may be better known, but they all came along after "Rock Around the Clock."

The song got its first real exposure when it was played as part of the opening credits for "The Blackboard Jungle" starring Glenn Ford, Anne Francis and Sidney Poitier. With the help of that movie, it shot to the top of the charts, where it stayed for eight weeks.

I think the first time I ever heard it was when it was used as the original theme music for the Happy Days TV show. Haley's recording was part of the soundtrack for the movie "American Graffiti," too, but I don't think I saw that movie until it was shown on TV years later.

(There was no special reason why I didn't see it sooner, I suppose.)

My first exposure to "Rock Around the Clock" came to me courtesy of Happy Days. Being young and naive, I thought it was an original song written for the TV show. I had no idea who Bill Haley and His Comets were.

I do now, of course.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Chuck Berry Is 85

The fact that Chuck Berry has lived to his 85th birthday is a significant milestone, one that many of us feared he might not reach not too long ago.

Earlier this year, it was reported that Berry had collapsed at a New Year's show in Chicago. Thankfully, he seems to have rebounded.

There doesn't seem to be any real agreement on how rock 'n' roll came to be. About the only thing on which there does seem to be agreement is the idea that it originated in the South in what can only be described as a convergence of several musical styles — blues, country, jazz, gospel, folk, swing — that evolved into rock 'n' roll.

Because it was such an evolutionary kind of thing, it's been tough for music historians to pinpoint when the phrase "rock 'n' roll" was first applied to music. It was apparently used in the early part of the 20th century to describe both the fervor of the religious faithful and the ecstacy of a sexual encounter.

But the phrase caught on — in a musical sense — in the 1950s. Some people credit Bill Haley and the Comets and "Rock Around the Clock." Others say Elvis Presley or Jerry Lee Lewis or Little Richard deserve the credit.

They're all rock 'n' roll legends and all equally deserving of recognition, but I say Berry is as worthy as any, and "Johnny B Goode" is as good a demarcation point as you will find. It may be Berry's most recognizable song. It's bound to be the Berry song that has been covered the most, from Elvis, Bill Haley, Buddy Holly and the others to Michael J. Fox in "Back to the Future."

If anything is absolutely certain, it is that rock 'n' roll has been around for a long time, so long that dictionaries don't agree on its definition.

Some dictionaries will tell you that "rock 'n' roll" is synonymous with "rock music" while others will say that rock 'n' roll preceded rock music and is a different genre, even though the two have many things in common.

I doubt that such distinctions have ever really mattered to Berry. As Bobby Gillespie wrote in The Guardian last year, "Berry started the global psychic jailbreak that is rock 'n' roll," but I suspect that, if asked, Berry would tell you that what has always mattered to him was whether the music sounded good, whether it made the listeners move their feet — and the rest of their bodies — and sing along (even if, like me, they have no real talent for singing).

And that, I suppose, tells you all you really need to know.

Rock 'n' roll is as much a state of mind as a state of being. It is at the heart of being young and thinking young.

It is why, at the age of 85, Chuck Berry is still singing and playing for audiences.

Happy birthday, Chuck, and many more.

Sunday, January 02, 2011

The Heart of Rock 'n' Roll



Chuck Berry's collapse at a concert in Chicago last night "reminds us that he matters," NPR.org is saying today.

I'd like to think the reminder wasn't necessary.

For those who may not have heard, Berry, 84, collapsed during a New Year's show.

He "slumped over his electric keyboard ... and was helped off the stage by two assistants as fans shouted 'We love you, Chuck!' " reported Reuters. "Berry returned to the stage about 30 minutes later, waved to his fans, thanked them and said he was OK ... . Then, as if to reassure the audience, he did an abbreviated version of his signature duckwalk move before leaving the stage again."

An agent for Berry confirmed that Berry said he didn't feel well before the show.

The agent acknowledged that Berry was on his way to his Missouri home.

The heart of rock 'n' roll is still beating.