Woody & Arlo Guthrie: Grassy Grass Grass
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We end our day with a pulsing trance from Woody Guthrie himself, with layers of eerie dreamflute, bells, and shaken percussion added years later by his son Arlo. The tiny kidfolk piece - a world-naming lullaby of elegant simplicity - was first released as a drum and voice duo on 1947 release Songs To Grow On For Mother and Child, thus fitting for the waning hours of Mother's Day.
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I wrote most of this entry wholesale back in 2009, for a different song entirely. But it bears repeating, in part because it reminds us how artists rise and fall: before she joined up with Steve Tannen to became half of indieblog darlings The Weepies, but after cutting her teeth on the music industry with an upbeat Oregon popband called Hummingfish, Deb Talan had a relatively low-key, small-scale career as a solo artist on the New England coffeehouse circuit. Her final solo effort from this period, 2001 live release Sincerely, reveals an artist on the cusp of full-formed musicianship -- still a bit unrefined, still a little repetitive -- but the potential for greatness is clearly there. You can hear it in the sweet longing of this favorite tune, the sheer pink-petaled simplicity of its central metaphor a perfect match for Talan's girlish, impish tones and self-doubting, self-aware tendencies.
Booker T. & the M.G.’s: Green Onions (Live)
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I woke up early this morning to two pieces of news—first, that our theme for the week was “The Plant Kingdom,” and second, that Donald “Duck” Dunn, the bass player who was a member of Booker T. & the M.G.’s, had died. I naturally thought of posting “Green Onions.”
Then, I found out that Dunn joined the band after the song was released. On the other hand, having been a member since 1964, I have to assume that he played the song maybe a million times, so I decided to post it anyway. The version that I have attached is not the original studio version featuring Lewis Steinberg on bass, but a live version that I obtained off of a Stax label sampler that I downloaded a few years ago. Based on the length of the track, I’m pretty sure that it is originally from an album called “Funky Broadway: Stax Revue Live At The 5/4 Ballroom” from August, 1965, which appears to feature Dunn on bass.
Dunn was a legendary bass player, and he also was a songwriter and producer. In addition to being part of The M.G.’s, he was a Stax session musician and appeared on recordings with Muddy Waters, Freddie King, Albert King, Neil Young, Jerry Lee Lewis, Eric Clapton, Tom Petty, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Wilson Pickett, Sam & Dave, Rod Stewart and Bob Dylan. He played himself in The Blues Brothers movies, and was in the band.
Booker T. and the M.G’s was one of the first integrated rock bands, and was the originator of the Stax sound. Booker T. Jones sat in with the band on The Late Show with David Letterman last week, and his last two solo albums, “Potato Hole,” where the backup band was The Drive-By Truckers, with Neil Young adding guitar, and “The Road from Memphis,” recorded with members of The Roots along with guests including Lou Reed and Sharon Jones, are both excellent.
And to completely tie this up, after deciding to post this song, I had a bagel with scallion cream cheese for breakfast.
Martin Sexton: Diner
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I have to believe that most of us who write or read music blogs like this have a list of favorites who never succeeded to the level that we believe they deserve. Off the top of my head, I can think of a few—all of whom have had some commercial success, but in my mind, should have more: Richard Thompson, The Roches, Alejandro Escovedo and the subject of this quick post, Martin Sexton, to name just a few. I’ve already posted about Thompson and The Roches, so I guess Escovedo has to get his turn at some point.
Let’s get it right out there—I think that Martin Sexton is an incredible songwriter, an amazing guitarist and frighteningly talented singer. He is one of the best live performers I have ever seen. And yet, despite that, and rave critical reviews from The New York Times, Rolling Stone, Billboard and others, it seems like Sexton will never be a huge star. He was getting close to stardom when he released two albums, “The American” and “Wonder Bar” on a major label in 1998 and 2000, but his next release was a holiday CD on his own label, 5 years later, followed by sporadic independent releases, all of which have been worth listening to, but which have had limited impact. Of course, it is possible that Sexton is happy with the way his career has gone, and I hope so.
“Diner” is from his first full release, “Black Sheep,” from 1996, and it is a hoot—a tribute to those diners that look like train cars, and serve up delicious, hearty food to travelers all over the country. Even if you haven’t been to the exact diners that Sexton describes, you know exactly what he is talking about.
And he sings so fast.
Suzanne Vega: Tom’s Diner
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Sitting at the counter unnoticed even by the man who pours her coffee, she watches the people with whom she is briefly sharing space. The rain outside is pathetic fallacy writ large, but she's trying not to notice because to notice is to remember and if she wanted to do that she would not be distracting herself by watching the people as they come and go. The lovers she pretends not to see aren't helping, but those who are unattached either die unremembered or are too wrapped-up in themselves to connect to anyone. Cathedral bells make an announcement - a wedding perhaps, or just the march of time - and the floodgates open, if only for a moment. Life, of course, continues on unabated and it's time to catch the train.
Forget the DNA remix: it missed the point. A song this lonely can only truly be delivered sparse and unadorned.
Ella Mae Morse with Freddie Slack and his Orchestra: House of Blue Lights
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"The House of Blue Lights" is a knocked-out shack at the edge of town, serving fryers, broilers, Detroit BBQ ribs and fine egg beats. I always assumed the House of Blue Lights was in Michigan. (Does anyone outside of Detroit boast about that city's brand of barbecue?) But, I can't find any evidence to suggest it was a real place, located anywhere in particular. If there is a House of Blue Lights, you'll want to spend the rest of your brights there. But, before you do, take a moment to think about the talents that created this rock/R&B/country-swing classic.
"Blue Lights" was first recorded by Ella Mae Morse with the Freddie Slack Orchestra. Slack, who wrote the tune with collaborator Don Raye (the lyricist of "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy"), rose to fame playing in a number of big bands in the '30s and '40s. In the late 1930s, during a stint with the Jimmy Dorsey Orchestra, Slack met Ella Mae Morse. She briefly sang with the Dorsey outfit, until Dorsey discovered she had exaggerated her age by several years. (Morse told him she was 19.)
Listen to the interplay between Morse and Raye at the start "Blue Lights," and you'll hear why Morse was often mistakenly assumed to be black. "People used to tell me, 'I hope you don't take this the wrong way but you sing like a black girl,'" she said in an interview. "I'd wonder, what other way is there to take that than a great compliment?" Legend has it that, upon meeting Morse, Sammy Davis Jr. enthused, "Ella, baby, I thought you were one of us." Morse's views on race were remarkable given the time and place she came from. (Born in 1924, she grew up around Paris and Dallas, Texas.) Both her parents were musicians. The book All Over the Map: True Heroes of Texas Music includes a typical Morse quote on race: "My parents didn't understand racism. They wanted no part of that, and I was brought up to believe in equality and acceptance of others."
Slack and Morse first teamed in 1942 and immediately scored a major hit, "Cow Cow Boogie," the first gold record on the fledgling Capitol label. Morse and Slack continued to work together throughout the 1940s, releasing a series of charting records. Morse briefly retired to raise her kids, while Slack struggled to stay afloat in the music business. He died at age 55 in 1965. Morse returned to recording in 1953, focusing on a wide range of jazz, pop and country material (including a memorable duet with Tennessee Ernie Ford, "I'm Hog-Tied Over You"). She continued to perform around the L.A. area, including frequent appearances at Disneyland, until retiring for good in 1987. She passed away in 1999; her son posted a touching page memorializing his absentee mother.
It's a shame Slack and Morse's collaboration didn't last longer. But, don't let sad thoughts keep you from enjoying your time down at the house, the House of Blue Lights.
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Electric Six are a Detroit garage-rock-punk-disco band, even though they sound deliberately RP British in this tune. Well, British over a killer punk riff, I mean. Wikipedia tells us that the lead singer claims the song arose from a mondegreen of Devo's "Girl U Want" that he heard as "just a girl, just a girl at a gay bar" while the song was playing in a very loud nightclub. (The actual lyric is "She's just the girl, she's just the girl, the girl you want".)
Oddly enough, the lyrics "Let's start a war…start a nuclear war…" were censored in 2003 since the Iraq war had just begin, whereas the ultra-suggestive "I've got something to put in you" was left alone. Hey, I happen to think war is more obscene than sex, too.
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