Wish You Were Here To Hear Wish You Were Here Like You've Never Heard It

Ooooh, this might be at least a little controversial. I don't think people minded me too much taking the hatchet to Kansas and their music, because, well, it's Kansas, but what if we touch the untouchables like Pink Floyd? We'll find out together. There were a number of reasons why I wanted to rework this album, the main one being that there are parts of "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" which bore me to tears and that I don't want to sit through to get to the parts I like. But other ideas came up: What if, instead of the now mightily thinned out "Shine" the album really concentrates and is built around its title song? 

Now, obviously, this alternate take on Wish You Were Here isn't an attempt to improve the album or 'fix it' or whatever. I may be delusional, but I am not that delusional. No, this is a private project that just may be of interest to a couple of you. It is, if nothing else, a new way to listen to this old warhorse, because - for better or worse- you've never listened to Wish You Were Here like this. This is actually my second take on this album. The first one is, as I've seen when working on this new version, more than five years old, and it shows. It was only my second big mixing project, after a Blade Runner-themed one, but I was just starting out wih Audacity, and it showed. Even more so, I was just starting out with Alternate Albums, and that also showed. Figuring out what works and what not comes with time and experience, and a better trained set of ears, and now - half a decade and a not insignificant number of alt albums later - I am doing a much better job than I would have been able to in 2020. 

I was also greatly helped out by the access to new material. The 50th Anniversary Edition of the album had the band issue a couple of never-before released (or bootlegged) outtakes, including a set of demos for "Welcome To The Machine" and the pedal steel instrumental version of "Wish You Were Here". I can't tell you how much I love the latter - the high lonesome whine and sway of Gimour's pedal steel playing captures the melancholy of the track absolutely perfectly. Unnecessary to say, it is all over this version of the album - literally. It opens and closes proceedings as the thematic and melodic bookends, and makes another surprise appearance elsewhere. "Wish You Were Here" the song is the original version with the clear intro and Stéphane Grappelli's violin all over the second half of the song whereas it was mixed into practical inaudability on the final version, and it somewhat improbably continues the sound aesthetic that that pedal steel version of "Wish" started - this is at least partly Wish You Were Here as imagined by a country (-ish) band, fitting for what Gilmour called "a simple country song". 

Every track on here is different from the original line-up. "Have A Cigar" is the duet between Roger and Roy Harper and given the repetitiveness of its coda, cut down quite a bit. "Welcome To The Machine" exits in two versions, both very different from the album. The first version is the band demo, the second ("Welcome Back To The Machine") a part of Roger's original demo. And then, there's of course the big one: "Shine On You Crazy Diamond". Nowhere is my growth in editing more obvious than here. The differences aren't necessarily just in the quality of the edits and transitions, though those got better and smoother, but in the way I listened to the original while thinking of editing it. When I did that first take on "Shine On You Crazy Diamond", I wasn't really thinking about the dynamics of a piece of music, I was pretty single-mindedly occupied with stitching together the parts of those two long suites that I liked. 

Though I ended up with a piece that almost had the same length, my first  unsuccessful stab at "Shine On" was quite different from the one on this album. Back then, I cut a personal highlight reel, this time I thought 'how could this work as a song, rather than a sequence of pieces?'. This led me to make some harsh, and no doubt controversial cuts: Using the first parts essentially as table-setting, a long mood-establishing intro before the song proper kicks in means getting rid of both of David Gilmour's guitar solos, for many a Floyd fan the highlight(s) of the track. On the first version I also kept parts of the last sections that shorn of their long movement-like structure felt stranded on an island, further leading to the feeling that that version was a not particularly well thought-out cut up. For the new version I took Roger Corman's old 'cut to credits when the monster is dead' logic, meaning, as soon as the song part is over, cue the fade. 

So, where does all this leave us? With a very different, and quite breezier version of the album, as this edit of Wish You Were Here is a mere 33 minutes long. I trimmed some of the fat while adding more than a touch of a different, maybe a little earthier version of Pink Floyd. I'd be interested to find out whether all of this works for you, or whether you think it's terrible that I'd massacred a sacred cow. As is, I am finally happy with a project that was in the furthest corners of the back of my mind for five years. I now have an alt version of Wish You Were Here that I'm proud of and happy with. And I hope, one or two of you will soon have that, too. So, friends and neighbors, shall we...dive in?

The Many Mellow Moods Of All Pearls, No Swine...

Time for another one of these, wouldn't you say? Haven't had some sweet 70s music around in a bit (not counting the CCR/Eagles combo), so this volume of All Pearls, No Swine will do just fine, thank you. Listening back to this volume, I must've been in an exceptionally mellow mood, as this colume is almost entirely easygoing folk-pop, country rock and singer-songwriter stuff. All lovely, of course, but definitely on the slower side of things, where beats are rarely above mid-tempo and voices are in harmony, but not in the red. The rhythm picks up lightly with The Records and the jingle-jangle power pop of "Starry Eyes" at  around the halftime mark and due to some heavy guitar shredding in Henry Shifter's "Natural Love" from his only album, 1971's Out Of Nowhere. 

We'll also meet the 'less famous than their family members' brigade: It's easy to forget, considering the mega-success of James Taylor that he comes from a brotherhood of musicians, with both elder brother Alex and younger brother Livingston recording somewhat steadily (sister Kate was also a musician, as was for the blink of an eye, youngest brother Hugh). Big brother Alex had the least career of the three, probably because he wasn't a writer, but his take on brother James' "Highway Song", given to him before James brought out his own version, is wonderful and has all the hallmarks of a  classic rock radio staple (mellow division), alas it was not to be. 

Dave Loggins, second cousin to Kenny, rivaled his success with "Please Come To Boston" for a moment, but saw his career stall out until a hit duet with Anne Murray a decade later. "My Father's Fiddle" comes from the same album, 1974's Apprentice (In A Musical Workshop).As usual, though, most spots in the line-up are reserved for folks you probably haven't heard of: Tom Eslick, Bureman & O'Rourke, Music Box, James And The Good Brothers, Brock & Friends, Garret Lund and Freeland. 

You may of course remember The Mamas And The Papas' Denny Doherty, here with a take on early folk rock-styled Hall & Oates material in "Good Night And Good Morning". And maybe you remember Susan Taylor from her time with The Pozo Seco Singers, "When The Baby In My Lady Gets The Blues" is from her only solo album under her own name, 1972's Finally Getting Home. She changed her name to Taylor Pie for a career in songwriting afterwards and will be back on these pages. 

If you've heard a volume of All Pearls, No Swine or three, you know that I like to end with a longer run-out groove, usually of the psychedelic variety. The lengthy ending track is here, but in a different style this time, as we let Baby Huey and his almost ten minute take on Sam Cooke's "A Change Is Gonna Come" bring us home. 

So, stay mellow with some exquisitely lovely music from the 1970s, everybody...

You Might Not Know Paul Dempsey Yet, Buy You'll Like Him...

When I went to the Celebrating David Bowie revue on its stop through Paris in 2018 - a gift from the wife - I didn't know what to expect, other than Mick Garson being the musical director of a band including some former collaborators of Bowie, plus possible guest stars. The show, as it turned out, was pretty good, notably led by four main vocalists: Fishbone's Angelo Moore on the more theatrical and bombastic numbers, Sting's son Joe Sumner on the classic rock-type songs, Adrien Belwe on the art-rock songs and a lanky gentleman in the middle who took over the torch songs and ballads. When you squinted a bit, hat gentleman looked a bit like a younger Brian Ferry, ery snazzy in a suit. He also had a connection to Bowie, having supported him on a tour in Australia with his band Something For Kate. That gentleman, whom I never heard of before, was Paul Dempsey. 

On second thought, that whole 'looks a little like Brian Ferry' probably mostly comes down to the suave swaying and the snazzy suit, though we can clearly establish that Paul Dempsey is somewhat of a handsome fella. Which is quite different from being a beautiful man. A fella can look at another fella and somewhat neutrally declare that that other fella with attractive features is a handsome fella, while declaring him a beautiful man would imply an intimacy or time spent on studying that other fella that would suggest something deeper than a simple observation. Did I mention that these last days I am in 'But I Digress..'-mode? 

Anyway, so this handsome Aussie fella named Paul Dempsey is a guy who does most things - aside from being a handsome fella - well: expressive, throaty singing that often doesn't need more than an acoustic guitar, can write intelligent, well-made pop songs - what's not to like? So you coould argue that there's a disproportionality between the man's skill set and his level of stardom. As in: he clearly isn't a star, and with well-made, intelligent bur otherwise classic pop and mild rock, he will not become one now and it's obviou why he didn't become one in the last fifteen years or so. 

The music is excellent, but if you heard it on the radio, it's not the kind of mudic that'd make you call the station (and by that I mean post on their Insta, or what not) to find out what that cool song was that you'd like to purchase (or rather stream, or steal off the internet, or what not). My point being, that Paul Dempsey is too little known and deserves to be better known, and I will do my tiny part in that. 

If I don't have anything particularly spectacular to say about the music of Dempsey, it's because it isn't spectacular music, just really well-done intelligent pop/rock music, mostly concise ("The True Sea" has been edited for this collection, with some minor works on fadeouts and such to a couple of other track) and with just enough little aural nooks and crannies to keep things interesting. He's as much at home with a beautiful, understated ballad as an uptempo, guitar-driven number, and has a gift for hooks that in a better world would have brought him into, well maybe not stadiums, but bigger concert halls across the world. As is, Dempsey is fairly well-known down under but draws blank looks pretty much everywhere else. 

Dempsey is not only a premier craftsman of beautiful, intelligent pop, however, but also an excellent interpreter of other people's songs, which you might have realized if you have picked up We've Got You Covered - David Bowie (Volume 3) this week,hat featured his "Ashes To Ashes"-cover. So besides his excellent originals this compilation also includes four equally excellent covers: A harrowing acoustic version of "Nothing Compares 2 U", an acoustic take on Queen's "I Want To Break Free", fittingly a cover of another intelligent pop songsmith from Oceania with Neil Finn's "Addicted" and a cover of MGMT's "Time To Pretend". 

Be Somebody - The Music Of Paul Dempsey will hopefully make more people discover this excellent songsmith - and if you already know Dempsey will serve as a handy little primer of his solo work so far. EIther way, this is beautiful, well-made music that deserves a place in many more homes and hearts of music lovers...

In Defense Of The Compact Disc (Born 1982, Died 202?)

It may come as a surprise to you, dear follower of this blog which gives away music on the internet, but for the longest time I didn't take any music from the internet. Even deep into the 2010's I didn't download or otherwise. I finally gave up on principles when I realized that as a CD buyer I was quickly becoming as obsolete as the medium itself, and just as easily abandoned. I remember looking for the new album by Jason Isbell, then realized that the only version I could find seemed to be an import Cd, offered for a price not seen in about 40 years or so. What is this, I thought, 1985? To add insukt to injury, the freakin' vinyl was a couple of Euros cheaper than the Cd version. Seriously, are you kidding me? 

Even the vinyl hipsters, the easiest of victims for a rip-off, were getting off cheaper than I was. Some of the younger folks buy vinyl only as a means of adding virtual signifiers: of their fandom, of the cultural caché that vinyl records have. Some of these folks don't even have players to play these vinyls on! And me, a guy who has subsidized the music and CD industry with my money for more than 30 years, I now get treated like a fuckin' pariah? That's when I said 'fuck it' and went on the internet to get my music there like everybody else. 

But in my heart, I am, and will always be a child of the CD era. They might not be cool anymore, they definitely aren't sexy, they're unlikely to inspire nostalgia, but still, they were my way of listening to music, and always will. That's why my compilations never crack the 80 minute limit. That's why I still burn some of the stuff here on discs. And that's why I regret that nowadays you can't buy a car with a CD player in it, unless you are some poor person and can't afford better. The CD player is the new casette tape. As a medium it's of course also dead as Dillinger. CD racks have almost entirely disappeared from big-box tech and entertainment stores, together with the DVD racks. For a fan of physical media like yours truly it is a really sad sight. 

That's why I'm happy that, according to the tradition taken up in my adopted homeland I went out for les soldes, the special clearance sales that arrive twice a year, and came back with two CDs for a buck each (the One Buck Guy lives!). Tha tradition has also become quite sad, as in the heydays of the CD (or rather, the slowly approaching autumn of it), you could regularly come away with a bag of CDs at tiny prices. But for one more year, the tradition holds. So, will Demi Lovato's Holy Fuck become my new favorite record and be in heavy rotation? I don't like its chances. But it was still a pleasure to undo the shrink wrap, put the disc on, see what it is (I have absolutely no previous knowledge of Mrs. Lovato) and flip through the booklet. The small pleasures of life with a dying medium. 

But I am not alone. There might be few of us, but we defy you, streaming services and vinyl hipsters! And, with a little help from the Jonderman, I brought reenforcements. Behold, my man Steven Hyden and his defense of the CD as a medium, together with a list of 'most CD' Cd akbums, all written in the man's fantastically entertaining, often hilarious style. Hyden was for years one of my favorite music writers, but when he left the A.V. Club in the great exodus of the mid-2010's. I didn't keep tabs on him. He also was a part of Grantland, a site greatly missed, even if successor The Ringer has a pretty good roster of writers. So, yeah, I hadn't kept up with Hyden and his work on Uproxx, but have caught up with it in the last days, and would invite you to do the same. But his CD album list also got me to write this long-winded ode to the little plastic platter that ruled the world until it didn't. 

Steven Hyden describes the problem of a CD (which before was the problem of vinyls) of buying an album and then only liking one or two tracks. We have all been there, we have all done that. Some (most?) of you threw these discs out a while ago, but I don't. Other than the truly atrocious - both in music and sound - Toronto bootleg of the Alice Cooper band and a Nick Carter maxi-single given to me as a joke, I never threw out a CD. That's right, even the worst discs are still on a spindle somewhere, having lost their jewel cases a long time ago to better (burned) discs and now also their booklets. Yet the little silver platters are still there. Can't bring myself to it. Every CD has a story, and a reason to be there, even if I can't recall what it is. 

Speaking of: is there a point to this write-up, other than plugging Hyden's list (and many others like it, just search for Hyden lists over there)? If there is, I might not recall what it is. The reason is maybe as obsolete as the CD. Hell, as if that would ever freakin' stop me...

We've Got That Davey Jones Fella Covered Again, Folks...

 ...and this volume is a knockout, folks, uncle OBG is promising you that. Listening back to it, I was like 'damn, if all volume threes or second sequels are good like this...'. Oooh, did I jinx it with too much self congratulating? Ilet you be the judge! Seriously, though, this has excellent flow and probably the broadest array of styles of any of the first three volumes, somehat befitting its subject matter. If David Bowie could hop from style to style, sometimes with no warning or precedent, then so can the people covering his songs!

And so we have some hair metal courtesy of, uh, Baby Snakes with kick-ass album opener "Cat People (Puttin' Out Fire)", some electro-pop (Billie MacKenzie's excellent take on "The Secret Life Of Arabia"), a hard swerve into reggae thanks to the improbable tem of  cover experts The Easy All-Stars and Macy Gray on "Rock'n'Roll Suicide", a groovy, almost alternative disco-ish take on "Young Americans" from The Cure, the electronica-meets-guitar work of Stevie Salas' "Always Crashing In The Same Car", befitting the electric pow-wow he titled one of his albums, and not one but two bosssa nova tracks: first the slightly jazzy "The Man Who Sold The World" by Mimi Aida, turned into a sophisticated cocktail bar song and then Seu Jorge's Portuguese-language cover of "Starman", which you might or might not remember from Wes Anderson's typically idiosyncratic The Life Aquatic With Steve Zizou. 

Gail Ann Dorsey's heartfelt homage to her former boss via a wonderfully unadorned (and short) take on "A Space Odyssey", only backed by Matthieu 'M' Chedid - a big star here in France in his own right - on acoustic guitar. But it might not even be the best acoustic track here, as it has really strong competitio: Pickyour favorite acoustic Bowie cover here: In the coner to my right, wily vet Steve Harley and a group of acoustic guitar pro's covering and transforming "Absolute Beginners" which loses all the bombast of Bowie's top-notch version. In the corner to my left Aussie Alt Popstar Paul Dempsey with an appropriately harrowing, forlorn take on "Ashes To Ashes". 

And there's so much more! Roger McGuinn covering "Soul Love"! The Cowboy Junkies taking on "Five Years"! The reformed Luna covering little-known early number "Letter To Hermione"! Lorette Velvette bringing the rock'n'roll with a brash cover of "Boys Keep Swinging"! A great folk-pop take on "Changes" from Hozier! Camilla Fascina's art-pop take on "I'm Deranged" which I largely prefer to Bowie's industrial rock original! And more!

All delivered with, again without any false modesty, a killer sequencing. It might have less big hitters than the first two volumes but that's maybe for the better. We've Got You Covered: David Bowie (Volume 3) is all killer, no filler. Time to dive head first into that Davey Jones songbook again, folks...

EDIT: While rummaging around in the We've Got You Covered - David Bowie folder I realized that the numbering on Volume One was hopelessly messed up, so I fixed that. And while I was at it, I also threw of the weird little (often completely random) art that incrusts itself like parasites in the folder, but which I can only see on one of my computers, so I threw that shit off volumes one and two as well. New links have been set if you want cleaner versions of those comps. Volume One is here and Volume Two is here. 

Chalk One Up For Inner Values...

Hooray for truth in advertising! When I picked up the original version of today's One Buck Record, I knew exactly what it was, thanks to Glitterhouse's honest ad in their catalogue. Yes, Glitterhouse is most known as a label, notably giving Neal Casal a home, as well as folks like The Walkabouts, Johnny Dowd, 16 Horsepower, Lou Ford or Terry Lee Hale. But before that they were, and stayed, a mail order company, that at a time I used to procure my music, notably getting a bunch of my Beach Boys and The Band remastered albums from them. And, uh, this. The refreshing thing about Glitterhouse advertising this budget item was their honesty. They more or less openly said that the conceit of this album as 'a tribute to the spirit of Eva Cassidy' - whatever the fuck that means - was poor taste bullshit and the packaging chintzy. I mean seriously, just look at the horrendous cover art (which I couldn't see in the catalogue, so it was the, uh, nice 'goes with the package' surprise). Yikes!

But, as the Glitterhouse catalogue entry argues, you would still get some very fine music from talented singers like Pentangle's Jacqui McShee and Judie Tzuke (who didn't make it on this reworked version) for very little money. And that is true. The music herein is often beautifully done, despite being made by something called The Klone Orchestra, which sounds really bad. But you can't argue with the results. This is beautiful music, no matter the commercial intent, with some very nice musical touches: adding celtic instrumentation to "Turn!Turn!Turn!", a flute to "I Shall Be Released", instrumentation to a couple of numbers, inluding "Bridge Over Troubled Water", where Filipa Jeronimo's accent always makes me smile ("wo-tah!"), or the little jazz touches and electric guitar solo on "After The Goldrush".  The packaging may be dirt cheap, but the music production in it isn't. Yay, Glitterhouse, you were right! 

Call it high-quality karaoke maybe, but sometimes high quality-karaoke is better than mediocre original songs. You wil easily recognize all these songs, beautifully arranged and very soothing. I threw off three tracks which I thought didn't fit well - and because there's little known rule #2 of this blog, right afetr rule #1 ("No fuckin' kazoos on this blog!"), and that is "No fuckin' songs from Cats on this blog!". So you're left with only the best of this package, 11 tracks of women's voices on the wind, making your day a little sweeter...

Authenticity, Commercialism And The Big Lebowski - A Tale Of Two American Bands

"I hate the fuckin' Eagles". I hate that fuckin' quote. Sure, the scene made me chuckle when I saw The Big Lebowski during its cinematic run, but still. It's glib as fuck, and more than a little bit of shooting fish in the barrel. I get it- the Indian guy loves the Eagles, har har. He loves corporate pap more associated with Middle America Hardi-fuckin'-har. Oh, also: All those Johnny Come Latelies who love the Big Lebowski and quote the movie? Where the fuck were you when that movie ran in theatres? Not out in droves, that's for sure.Me and my buddy Alex quoted that movie right after we saw it, bot unlike all those other goofs who saw it on home video later and decided to turn it into a cult movie. But that glib "I hate the fuckin' Eagles"? Fuck that. 

Of course, the Dude not only hates the fuckin' Eagles, he loves himself some Creedence Clearwater Revival, worrying whether the cops will not only find his stolen car, but also the Creedence tapes that were in it. Eagles = bad, CCR = good, we get it, Dude. If you've been reading along on this blog, you know that in the last months I featured both the Eagles and CCR on this blog. So, I got to thinking, which then meant I got to writing which, if all goes well, means you get to reading. Sorry 'bout that. But what better way to start off the new year than with [strokes goatee, adopts Philip Seymour Hoffman-as-Lester Bangs voice from "Almost Famous"] a, ahem, a think piece. 

While the Dude didn't expand on his reasons for hating on the Eagles, there are usually three things brought up, directly or indirectly about them: that they were boring and made boring music, that they were soulless commercial merchants, interested in filling their pockets without giving a damn about the music, and that they were inauthentic, country rock fakers turned stadium rock fakers. Now, compare that to CCR: a band beloved by all, the heart of American rock'n'roll. An authentic, American original band playing authentic American music. The Dude loves them, and who wouldn't? 

Let's get the first things out of the way: Nothing to say about the boring thing. Personal taste, friendo. You find 'em boring? Your loss, or not. But it's the other two arguments, all so neatly wrapped up in the 'I hate the fuckin' Eagles, man' quote that interest me for a hot minute or two. 

You sure you guys are from Los Angeles? 

I mentioned this is my write-up to Desperado: The Eagles began to introduce themselves as being "from Los Angeles", but none of them were. They were implants from as far east as Detroit, and as rural as Scottsbluff, Nebraska. But you know who is from California? Namely, from El Cerrito in the Bay area? Why, CCR of course. And who wouldn't remember such classics written by John Fogerty as "Born On The Bayou" and "Proud Mary" proudly presenting himself as...from the Deep South. Imagine for a second, if you wheel, the faces of Booker T & the MG's when Fogerty, that white boy from suburban California came into Muscle Shoals. Last I checked there weren't many bayous in El Cerrito. Funny thing, though...you know who has rarely if ever being accused of cultural appropriation, or of faking it? John Fogerty and the boys, that's who. 

Let's look at that whole sell out thing for a sec. Did you ever wonder why CCR threw out an average of two albums by year - and a full three in the calendar year of 1969? John Fogerty was somewhat paranoid about the idea that the moment his band would drop out of the charts, it would be the beginning of the end, the band falling almost immediately into oblivion and being forgotten. The solution: Throw out product, product and more product: single after single, album after album. Funny thing, though: You know which band - despite flooding the market with product as if there was no tomorrow - was rarely if never accused of only being in it for the money? Why, its lil' ol' John Fogerty and his band of merry men. 

Hey, you guys sure you were born on the bayou? 

As you have seen here, I love both bands dearly, so this isn't about who's better at what they respectively do, nor about who is keeping it real or faking things, or who was in it for the money to which degree. It's about how the cultural depiction of these two bands have taken such a different turn despite things not being what they seem to be. Now, to be fair: any Eagles-related acticity from 1994 onwards deserves scorn for its mercenary, in it for the money approach: the corporate events, the pushing concert tickets first over the hundred dollar limit, the endless 'final' tours, etc. And let's not get started on the other CCR. 

But yeah, maybe the Dude didn't say it best when he elevated CCR and dismissed the Eagles in one full swoop? Maybe both bands deserve their place as some of the best music their era had to offer? Maybe the discussions about realness and fakeness in rock'n'roll are as real or fake as their subjects? Life is stranger than fiction they say, but it is also a lot more complicated, than that fiction's punch lines. So fuck that lazy-ass Big Lebowski quote, listen to the great rock'n'roll from CCR and the great country rock of early Eagles side by side peacefully...I think we can all abide...unless you are a nihilist and don't believe in anything...but that's a whole different altogether...