He Said "Lay Down Your Funky Weapon" But I Didn't Think You'd Actually Do It

Here's something a little different: A response to a piece written by my friend and actual music writing professional Kurt Gottschalk and published by the Brooklyn Rail titled In Which Prince at Last Wins the Battle Against Evil, and Yet Y'all Still Make Fun of Him:

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Personally, I kinda miss having to defend Prince. Back in the 80s, you were always a little guarded when you confessed you were a fan, because it seemed like everyone had something to say about him. "That skinny motherfucker with the high voice? Please!" Hip hop heads and funkaholics wondered why he messed around with falsetto ballads; old-school soulsters wondered why he used programmed drums and samples if he was such a virtuoso. At least one Billboard columnist questioned whether black music should permit effeminate males in its leadership. Religious friends thought it was disrespectful to recite the Lord's Prayer in "Controversy"; atheist friends didn't want to hear "God"; both camps critiqued his calling himself the Messiah (and his spelling) in "I Would Die 4 U." And that was before he wrote "slave" on his face, changed his name to a symbol, and stopped shipping platinum.

But now? After wearing down his critics inside the industry and out with decades of carefully crafted, insistently musical—if inconsistently engaging—albums and tours, Prince announced himself at the 2004 Grammys as elder statesman who could put the young folk to shame, and no one disputed it. The metalheads in Rainbow denim jackets I grew up with in Queens are now the people uploading his Rock N' Roll Hall of Fame performance of "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" to YouTube and captioning it "GREATEST GUITAR SOLO EVER!!!" The dudes who wondered why that high-heeled freak was running around with those tall white women are now saying the Black Eyed Peas' bombastic Super Bowl show was a disgrace compared to the tasteful showmanship and serious chops Prince displayed way back in... 2007. At the end of each sold-out Madison Square Garden show, today's most desperately buzz-seeking celebs elbowed each other for a place on stage. He's the hottest ticket in town. Don't get me wrong: I'm happy that Prince is happy, and that he's largely succeeded in making over pop music in his image. I just wish there was still someone around to argue with.

The Second Generation All-Star Band, or, That Last Name Looks Familiar

Maybe I attend too many geezer nostalgia tours, but I've been seeing a lot of bands where the star brings one of their kids onstage. Which ones are cases of nepotism, and which are actually worth hearing? I decided to organize the results as an all-star team; please give me the credit if a promoter puts together a touring combo out of this.

Vocalists

Let's get this out of the way first: there are a lot of pop star kids who have gotten up on stage to sing, and even gotten record contracts, who are just not that great. There's Goffin-King daughter Louise Goffin, Buddy Guy's daughter Shawnna and Nona Gaye among others. Neneh Cherry may have sold more copies of Raw Like Sushi than all of her father's albums put together, but color me unimpressed; likewise, I can't bring myself to care about the Wilson sisters or any of the Wainwrights. Arlo Guthrie and Jakob Dylan were legitimate one-hit wonders, if nothing more.
I don't know if Ronald Bell's son Rachid will ever make a followup to his outstanding debut album, but he's probably the only candidate who could conceivably dethrone Jeff Buckley.

Drums

Los Van Van drummer Samuel Formell is the easy choice, stepping into the shoes of Cuban music legend Changüito and rapidly winning over the band's skeptical and demanding fan base. I've never heard much from Jason Bonham or Zack Starkey but you'd think they have to be in the mix somewhere. Honorable mention for Mother's Finest drummer Dion Murdock, one of the few to play in a band with both parents.

Bass

I know Eddie Van Halen (and Valerie Bertinelli, he mentioned gratuitously) spawn Wolfie is touring with his dad, but I have no idea what he sounds like. I'm sticking with James Jamerson Jr.

Piano

I think this has to be Elio Revé Jr. Not only did he take over his father's renowned charangón, his compositions, arrangements and piano put the group in the forefront of the late 2000s timba scene.

Guitar

As I'm not inclined to pick Dweezil Zappa or Doyle Bramhall II, I'm sure not going to pick Trey Lewd, and I've never heard Teddy Thompson, I'll pick Wendy Melvoin, though her session pianist/arranger dad Mike isn't exactly the kind of front-line performer the competition is all about.

Horns

Got to go with trumpeter Mercer Ellington over tenor saxophonist Ravi Coltrane, based on Ellington's strengths as composer as well as bandleader.

Producer

Dionne Warwick's pride and joy Damon Elliott is the standout.

M.V.P. (Most Valuable Progeny)

Who's the Barry Bonds of the group, the child of a star who becomes a bigger star? Obviously Norah Jones is a much bigger commercial force than father Ravi Shankar, but it's my list and I can snub her if I want to. For "Moon Mist" alone, Mercer Ellington is one of the most accomplished, but he certainly isn't going to make anyone forget the other Ellington. On the other end of the scale, Jeff Buckley made a huge impression during his short career, but it would be a stretch to consider Tim Buckley a star. So I hate to say it, but the winner in the category is probably Bocephus. Please tell me I'm forgetting somebody.

Wilson & Alroy's Forbidden Words 2011

I used WordItOut.com to make a wordcloud based on Wilson & Alroy's Record Reviews, starting with every page I've posted a new review to in 2010 and adding the other pages in our fifty most visited. (WordItOut was the only site I tried that didn't choke on the volume of text I uploaded, and the interface is very spiffy, though I don't like the fact that it doesn't combine word forms, e.g. "song" and "songs" count as two different words.) The results are here:



It's no surprise to see words like "record," "album," "tunes," "track" and "guitar" on a record review site, but I do see some words that I'm clearly overusing. So here come the Forbidden Words, which I pledge not to use in any reviews in the coming year:

1. Really - A classic sign of bad writing: if you used the right word in the first place, you never need to put "really" in front of it. Really.

2. Only - Nothing wrong with the word, but I think it appears in plenty of places where other words would do. My use of "just" has been nearly as bad. So expect to see a lot of "solely" in 2011.

3. Including - I'll have to lean more heavily on synonyms like "featuring" or "consisting of," and alternative sentence constructions.

4. Here - There's no "here" on the internet. Sometimes I use it to mean the record being reviewed, other times I mean the site, and still other times I don't know what I mean.

5. Version - Look forward to seeing "variant" or words like it next year.

6. Production - Time to be more specific about what's creating the distinctive sound of a recording. But without going overboard talking about "arrangements" either.

7. Ballad - Originally used to describe a folk tale in song, I've been using it too frequently to denote anything a) slow, and b) about a relationship.

8. Rock - This may be the toughest one to avoid, but I was shocked to see how often I use the word as shorthand for "rock 'n' roll." Let's see if I can go a year without slipping up.

9. & 10. Interesting and Dull - Just a lazy way of saying I did or didn't like something.

And the number one most frequently occurring word on the site (not counting everyday words that WordItOut filters automatically)? I'm not going to eliminate "like" from my vocabulary, but I will try to keep it to a minimum. And feel free to suggest any other word we've overused (one to a customer, please) by posting a comment.

The Great Recording Artist Draft, or, What Do I Have To Do To Hear A New Angela Winbush Album?

Maybe someone can explain to me why this is a dumb idea, but I'm wondering why we can't set up a mechanism where fans of a particular artist can bid money to "draft" the artist back into the studio to make a new record. Like Jill Sobule in reverse: if you haven't been following that story, she raised about $75,000 from fans and other well intentioned folk so she could record and press her 2009 release California Years (other artists, including Cris Williamson, have done similar self-fundraisers without getting the same media attention).

I'm not talking about recluses like Axl Rose and Sly Stone, who have issues unrelated to financing which keep them from releasing product. I'm thinking more about someone like Ernie Isley or, yes, Àngela Winbush - people who presumably wouldn't be averse to hitting the studio if they could be assured in advance that they would get back their costs and (ideally) a bit extra.

I'd picture it working somewhat like an eBay auction (remember eBay? It's where you used to go for rare LPs before they all starting turning up on Rapidshare). Anyone interested could sign up for a central clearinghouse where you could put down money toward a new album by a given artist, who might or might not be amenable - it would be up to the artist to indicate interest, specify a minimum bid, etc. Everyone going to the site could see how much money had been pledged toward each artist - you could track fastest movers, newest additions, largest budgets, and so on.

The money would be placed in revocable escrow, so that you'd really need to put up the dough but you could get it back if you got tired of waiting for that next Leo Sayer disc - this would address the hypothetical problem where an artist could have an incentive to wait indefinitely, letting the budget go up and up, rather than actually making the record. Once the artist said yes, got the cash and recorded the CD, everyone who fronted money would get some freebie, like an autographed copy. (Sobule made an elaborate system with various levels, so that if you contributed enough you could even sing a duet on the record, but I doubt many artists would be that flexible.)

To really build a system like that you'd need someone to hold the money, and I'm certainly not volunteering. Thanks to the financial crisis nobody's making any interest to speak of anyway, so the only thing you'd need to worry about would be someone running off with all the money. But we're all music fans, we can trust each other, right? Right? Did I just lose everybody? Anyway, assuming the practical part can be straightened out if there's enough interest, let me throw out my price list:

Alec R. Costandinos	$50
The Abdul Hassan Orchestra	$50
Carole King	$50
Lunachicks	$50
Biz Markie	$50
Pajama Party featuring Jennifer McQuilkin	$50
Brenda Russell	$50
The Shaggs	$50
Bill Withers	$50
Chuck Berry	$100
Ernie Isley	$100
Little Richard	$100
Patrice Rushen	$100
Sleater-Kinney	$100
Àngela Winbush	$200

Sharon Brown, "I Specialize In Love" (1982)

I spent almost twenty years looking for this dance record before finally finding it at The Thing in Greenpoint. Written by Golden/Sher and produced by Next Plateau founder Eddie O'Loughlin, the tune was sort of a cross between early disco and Hi-NRG, mixing Latin percussion and a midtempo groove with jumpy synth, diva belting, and a winning attitude. I heard it a lot in 1982, though it seems like I never heard it on the radio, only coming out of passing cars, which is one reason I had trouble figuring out who the singer was. The other reason is, Brown never had much of a career apart from this one song: she apparently fell out with her label after they released a follow-up ("Love Don't Hurt People") she wasn't happy with, they parted company, and she ended up never releasing an LP.

The song was covered by Exposé in the mid-90s, and their version isn't half-bad, but track down the original if you can. Alternatively, you can check it out on YouTube.

Growing Up Skipper, "Teenage Boyfriend" (1991)

Growing Up Skipper was an early 90s all-female punk trio, not affiliated as far as I know with the Riot Grrrl scene but sharing some characteristics. They released one 7" with three songs; the other two are decent but "Teenage Boyfriend" is the keeper. Sung - almost spat - by lyricist/bassist Jane Guskin (formerly with San Francisco punk rappers the Yeastie Girlz), it's a cathartic, vitriolic assessment on an inconsiderate youthful swain. Apparently the song was covered by God Is My Co-Pilot in 1995; I haven't heard their version.

With its simple, memorable melody and powerhouse delivery, GUS's single is well worth searching for on eBay... There are even liner notes, with a thought-provoking deconstruction of the song's theme. (DBW)

Bobby Murcer, "Skoal Dippin' Man" (1983)

Years before Bernie Williams first picked up a guitar, and decades before Gretchen Wilson extolled the virtues of self-inflicted mouth cancer, Yankee great Bobby Murcer beat them both to the punch with this charming ditty. With the passing of Yankee Stadium, what better time to appreciate this surprisingly catchy Urban Country tune? There have been lots of better songs written about ballplayers ("Mrs. Robinson"; several songs by Chuck Brodsky; maybe even "Go Go Joe Charboneau") but has there ever been a better song sung by a ballplayer?

I couldn't find the actual song online, but here's a YouTube fan tribute using the same melody:
"I'm A Bobby Ray Murcer Fan"