Desperately Happy: The Ballad Of Danny Kirwan

"It's better to burn out than to fade away". 

Neil Young's (in)famous line from "My My Hey Hey" that was used in such diverse things as a memorable line of Clancy Brown's Kurgan in Highlander and the suicide note of Kurt Cobain. But is that really only a binary option? Because Danny Kirwan, Fleetwod Mac's creative savior in a time of great unrest, proved that that is not necessarily so: Danny Kirwan burned bright - oh so bright so early - then burned out, then took a long time to fade away. 

But fade away he did, with folks who aren't really versed in Fleetwod Mac (i.e. those who first bought Rumous because it had all the cool hits on the radio on it) probably drawing a blank when you mention his name. He left traces, for sure, of a often understated brillance, but these came during the Mac's transitional period when they were chugging along despite several setbacks, commercially and otherwise, bringing out record after record to respectable but-no-more-than-that sales in the UK and polite ignorance in the U.S. while making it a habit of losing their frontmen and guitar players. Of course Kirwan would soon be in that illustrious and in some ways astonishing list. Let me quote myself for a second here from my write-up to Bare Trees:

If you think about it, being a guitar player in Fleetwod Mac is like being a drummer in Spinal Tap. With less early and odd deaths, thankfully, but still, the band's penchant from 1969 onwards for losing their guitar players in rapid and often utterly weird fashion was quite the sight: drug-related burn out, being recruited to a religious sect while going out to buy a magazine, fired for being a drunken asshole one too many times, fired for cuckolding the drummer, quit due to the proverbial musical differences. If you look at the list only two of these would seem like normal circumstances, and that's already relative due to being in a rock'n'roll context. I guess It's fine then that the band proudly upheld their tradition, when Lindsey Buckingham got fired in 2018 for smirking. But I digress.

Kirwan is number three on that unlikey list, though being a drunken asshole doesn't entirely cover the story. He has never officially been diagnosed as ill, and his abuse of alcohol from an early age, made worse by the incessant touring with the Mac didn't hellp things one bit, but it's fair to assume that today Kirwan would be diagnosed with depression, or any of its related forms,which combined with his encroaching alcoholism spelled the znd for him in the Mac, and soon as a creative spirit.

Like Barrett, for a longer time but with even less of public interest, Kirwan continued in the music industry, but if no one bought his three solo records in the 1970's, Kirwan was - unlike Barret - forgotten. Then again, no one ever recorded an album or an extended suite in his memory: Shine On You Unhappy Alcoholic! Actually no one did a damn thing about Danny Kirwan, neither in Fleetwood Mac, nor elsewhere. He was a malcontent and was gone, and the Mac were high on platinum sales and cocaine. He also doesn't have a cult album like The Madcap Laughs, or a cult following of any kind. Well, a really small cult: As The Josh Joplin group would sing: Fifty fans can't be wrong, or can they?

To also be fair: Kirwan doesn't have a The Madcap Laughs because his solo platters weren't testament to a broken brillance, or mirrors into an increasingly disturbed mind. They were sort of - just there. Looking at Kirwan's solo tracks, it's obvious that the (self-imposed) pressure and competitiveness in Fleetwood Mac might've finally consumed him, but it stoked and fueled Kirwan's creative fire. He easily did his best work when with the Mac, and whatever major creative flow he had going in the Mac years, and especially during the Bare Trees period, was gone, and could not be retrieved when he was let go of the band. Compared to the high standard he set for himself when with the Mac, his solo career across three albums is a major disappointment. The songs became simpler in structure and more banal in content. As Kirwan's heart and soul grew darker, the songs grew lighter and slighter. Desperately happy, or maybe happily desperate.

But there is still a huge amount of enjoyment to be had, on a lighter, breezier level than the often deadly serious, philosophica or brooding songs of the Mac years. His reggae cover of "Let It Be" for example will not compete with the original, but doesn't have to, it's a charming little trifle here. His glam rock song "Ram Jam City" stays a lot of fun. None of the tracks from his three solo albums approach the majesty of his work in the Mac - Kirwan's first accomplishment was helping Peter Green finish "Albartross", without mentioning the slight psychedelia in his increasingly complex mini-epics like "Woman Of A 1.000 Years".

I love this picture of Danny Kirwan. On most pics he's so serious, but this pic capyures him on the happy side of the desperately happy divide...

The One Buck Record of the day splits the difference between the best of Kirwan's solo work and selected highlights from his work in the Mac. Some overlap with A Period of Transition exists, but why wouldn't you want to have several places to stumble upon great songs like "trinity", "Dusr" or "Jewel-Eyed Judy"? Danny Kirwan was one of the best guitar players of his generation, an often adventurous composer and arranger and a musician, whose top notch work really was top notch. The man slowly faded away, spending the last 35 years of his life in and out of homeless shelters and care facilities, but at least we still have the music. And that will not fade away. If this little sampler of Kirwan's music can do its part in that, then all the better.  

Let's hear it for Danny Kirwan, ladies and gentlemen...

I Just Might Pass This Way Again...

Waittaminute, you say, is the One Buck Guy a low-life no-good egg-suckin' idea-stealin' copy-cattin' scoundrel? Didn't our old buddy Farq just recently feature the Doobies and now you're doing the same? Yes, and no, der friends. For one thing, this album has been laying in the 'OBG Muisc To Post' folder for the better part of forever. However, it's true that the friendly suggestion to give the classic Doobies' line-up's classic foursome (I also love the debut, even if it is not particularly representative) made me do exactly that, grooving those last days to the Doobie's best. So not only was I reminded that Toulouse Street was and still is my favorite, but also he little warts that always made me think we can make it just that tiny smidgen better. Not with the music, that is untouchable. I'd say pound for pound, song for song, this is the best and most consistent of the Doobie Brothers' records. 

But, and you know it's been a couple of weeks, so that ol' hobyhorse of mine is gettin' a little anxious in the stable, so I I'll have to take it out for a ride. Yeah, you know what that means: Ol' OBG is gonna bore people with seuencing discussions again. Good or bad, some things never change. There were always to or three little details that bothered me about how the songs on Toulouse Street were put on the record. Why were the two Pat Simmons-written numbers - the most unusual of the album - both clustered together in the first thrid of the album? Why isn't "Disciple", the big 6+ minute rock monster that they salvaged from their earlier days, not the run-out groove to end the record on a high note? Instead it sounds like Tom Johnston sneaking out for a quick solo encore with the short vignette "Snake Man".  

Another smallish issue is aggravated by the way we listen to this album nowadays. Back in the vinyl days, you at least had to get up and flip the sides before "Cotton Mouth" gives way to "Don't Start Me To Talkin'". But still, why are the two horn-supported numbers clustered together in the middle? I know, I know, these are all small gripes, and rather typical OBG gripes. But still, rather than gripe on, I do something about it, even if it's comparatively minor stuff.

Here is, thus, the resequenced and I think more balanced version of Toulouse Street. Nothing added or subtracted, the same batch of great songs, but with more flow. The two big hits "Listen To The Music" and "Rockin' Down The Highway" - both quite similar-sounding - are now spearated to be the respective side openers. The two horn numbers are separated from each other, so are the Simmons songs (though not by much). The title song makes more sense as a side closer, while "Disciple" is now the barnburning album closer it was destined to be. Now just place the two acoustic numbers "White Sun" and "Snake Man" in an appropriate place on both vinyl sides - et voilà. I of course didn't touch the great album cover - as much a classic as the album. 

Toulouse Street is a very fine album any which way you listen to it - but maybe just a tad finer this way. Anyway, you've got your instructions, folks: oooooh, listen to the music...

Something Emerges...And Converges...From Nick Cave's Cave...

It's not going to be a habit, but the One Buck Guy does listen to his audience, at least half the time sometimes, so when reader Meandthereeds asked for some Nick Cave to go along with his tour down under that wrapped up two days ago I believe, I went through the archives, and behold - some Cave emerges from the cave! It has to be said that I vaguely planned to post some Nick Cave in the future, and a little alt album will come your way one of these days, but to set the tone, we'll go with something diffrently this time out.

If nothing else, going through Mr. Cave's oeuvre reminded me what I liked, and occasionally still appreciate,  about his music. It has to be said that I was a pretty big fan for about a decade, circa 1996-2006 or so. The first album of his I picked up was Murder Ballads, though for the life of me I can't remember how I did in the first place, since this was very definitely not a blind buy. Sure, like everyone else, I had noticed Cave, like a lot of people, with "Where The Wild Roses Grow", the hit duet with Kylie Minogue that had the double effect of legitimatizing Minogue and push the outsider Cave towards the mainstream. But still, none of my friends or loose associations would hve been into Cave, so I imagined I must've picked up a copy in the loval library, then went on to get my own copy. 

Some lovely cover art that only barely hints at the horrors within...

His highly acclaimed The Boatman's Call followed only a year later, and was of course catnip to brooding, angsty, romantically neglected young OBG. Then, in 2001 we had No More Shall We Part, which to me is the high point of this stage of Cave's career as a dark troubadour. Just a great album full of great songs. Follow up Nocturama was okay, but decidedly weaker, and while the double album Abbatoir Blues/The Lyre Of Orpheus had its moments, it wasn't as constantly excellent as Cave's trilogy of albums fom 1995 to 2001. Then Cave wanted to return to his noisy punk rock roots with the Grinderman project, which I wasn't a fan of, and by that time I was a bit Cave'd out, anyway. 

This being Cave'd out and feeling like Cave had pretty much said what he had to say in as perfect a way as possible left me with the feeling that with every future album I would mostly buy these out of habit, while the music itself would be more or less high-quality variations on the same themes. I did, however, pick up the B-Sides And rarities set because - as long-time One Buck Heads will know - I'm alwys intrigued by the roads not taken or less traveled. But that road through B-Sides And Rarities was also kind of rocky, as ny path through 'B' material will be, and the flow of this chronologically sequenced collection was so-so, with really beautiful discoveries sitting right beside 'yeah, no wonder this is a b-side' stuff. 

Well, this cover art is...I dunno...functional?!

So, Meandthereeds' question pushed me to do some work on this collection, collecting fourteen tracks from the Cave archives covering the late 80s to mid 2000s (I know Cave issued a second set, covering the following years, but haven't checked it out), plus two tracks from his soundtrack work with Warren Ellis. Everything Must Converge - named after one of its tracks - has a ton of great stuff from his best creative period, backing for example his classic "The Ship Song" with "The Train Song", a very lovely number in its own right. This collection also has the quite lovely missing title song from Nocturama, making that another album that lost its title song along the way. "Cassiel's Song" is from the soundtrack to Wim Wenders' Faraway So Close, while I added "The Rider Song" from the fantastic Aussie western The Proposition and one of his & Ellis's instrumental beauties in The Road's "The Far Road".    

Everything Must Converge also shows off a number of unlikely but interesting cover songs: Having based the rhythm of "Deanna" loosely on "Oh Happy Day!", Cave goes the full hog on an acoustic version of that song added as a first edition bonus to The Good Son, which, despite being merely labeled "Deanna (Acoustic Version)" and credited to Cave is technically about a quarter of "Deanna" and three quarters "O Happy Day!". He covers "What A Wonderful World" with Shane McGowan, who brings his usual drunk hooligan singing, which is the usual acquired taste, as well as a cover of "Rainy Night In Soho" (without McGowan) originally issued as its b-side. The other covers are a wonderful slide guitar and organ-led  take on Uncle Neil's "Helpless" and a pretty faithful reading of Roy Orbison's "Running Scared". 

Good Sons?

As indicated in paragraph three of this increasingly long write-up I largely prefer Cave the dark, dramatic and  theatrical crooner to some of his other personas, so Everything Must Converge is mainly built around that sound, meant to lead to a much more coherent listen than the understandably arbitrary and varying-in-quality original collection. Speaking of original: Was the original working tite of this collection Out Of The Weeds, just so I could make a 'Out Of The Weeds for Mr. Meandthereeds"? Why, of course it was, you take amusement where you can find it. The picture on the cover is from art by Sophia Zobacheva, from - you guessed it - a series of paintings called Convergence. And I'll leave you now with a short hour of quite beautiful music courtesy of Mr. Cave and The Bad Seeds, before this whole thing turns into a novella. 

So, Everything Must Converge, or so it seems. Let Cave's music converge with your ears and mind, then, you'll definitely not regret it...

 

It's The Bluegrass All-Star Revue, Covering Your Favorite Chartbusters Again...

Yup, they're back! Everyone's on board! If you have loved a particular artist in the first four volumes, there's a good chance he, she or the band are here once again. Corngread Red? Check. Honeywagon? Check. Hit & Run Bluegrass? Check. The Petersens? Check. Brad Davis? Check. Iron Horse? Check. David West? Check. The Grass Cats? Check. Tim May? Check. Maybe even Dave Dick & his band? Check. 

Check, check, check. Yes, they're all back, and they're all once again delivering very fine versions of popular hits from the late 1960s ("Here Comes The Sun", courtesy of The Petersens - ladies and gents, we've got our first Beatles cover!) to the late 90's (the aforementioned Mr. Dick covering Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Califronication" and Iron Horse going on "Broadway", tracing the Goo Goo Dolls' steps). In between, we get lots of beloved classics: "Don't Fear The Reaper"! "Stuck In The Middle With You"! "Billie Jean"! "Hungry Heart"! "Sad But True"! "Even Flow"! "Dancing With Myself"!"Heart Of Gold"! and many many more..!

A special mention for the second song from The Petersens - they nail Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody", which really is no mean feat! But again, these are all good to great. It's like some weird Twilight Zone jukebox that plays the greatest hits of yesteryear - but only in Bluegrass versions. 

Hey, I'd listen to that station. Do you? 

Just When You're Ready To Count The Man Out...

...and I no doubt have in the last years, bemoaning his sudden need to price out the common man, that he pretends to stand up for, out of concert tickets and his music (seriously, Bruce, listing your 8 CD outtake box set for 250 bucks?!? Da fuck?!?). But when you need the man, he stands and delivers.

I heard this on the radio this afternoon, and even if I knew about the song, it hits pretty hard when stuck between the usual radio fare. Sure, the lyrics are, uhm, workmanlike, and so is the musical backing which he seems to have borrowed from the Wrecking Ball era. But, you know, who really freakin' cares? The dude's got things to say that need sayin', even if the song isn't some sort of protest song masterpiece. Then again, are any of them? Fittingly, Bruce's voice is now reduced to a croak that approaches Dylan, but again, who cares? 

You might get bored of me leaving links to Brian Phillips articles, but here's another one well worth reading, and it also says things worth saying and thinking about.

I don't really have anything specific to add, having just talked about how you can't trust your eyes and ears in my A.I.-related thoughts (fittingly, led by Mr. Phillips), but you owe it to you and everyone else to try and keep those as open and discerning as possible...

Oh, also, fuck state-sanctioned murder squads 'upholding the law'...

The Long And The Short Of Steve Harley And Cockney Rebel

I haven't been a fan of Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel for very long. Actually it took some nudging from friendly neighbourhood music blogs (quick shout out to Fu Man Chu!), but when I checked out Harley & his crew I liked a lot of what I heard. For years I only knew two songs of him/them, the inevitable hit "Smile (Come Up And See Me)" and their cover of "Here Comes The Sun", because those would turn up on various artists 'hits of the 70s''-type compilations. Finally diving deeper, I found it interesting how stylistically diverse the work of Harley & Cockney Rebel is. And of course, in the words of Anchorman, well, that escalated quickly. Somehow, I went from two Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel song to not one, not two, but three discs for the One Buck Record of the day. Up until yesterday, this was still a two-disc release, then I got to start digging and finding some more treasures and reshuffling again, and well...what can I tell ya, folks, things got a little out of hand, as they tend to when OBG sets his sights on some stuff...

Steve Harley was not only the clear band leader and pretty much used the same logic that Vincent Fournier applied to Alice Cooper, even though he didn't name himself like his band ("Ladies and Gentlemen, let's give a big hand to...Cockney Rebel!"), Cockney Rebel quickly went from a real band to a name brand, so whoever was around Harley at a given time would be Cockney Rebel. At least, Harley took the Cockney part of the name seriously, adopting a sneering Cockney accent for a good number of the band's rockier tunes. Just listen to "Tumbling Down", the opening track of disc two and tell me that he doesn't sound like a dead ringer for Ian Hunter. Othertimes his voice recalls Bowie, an influence on both the artier longer as well as the shorter glam numbers. The longer numbers have a clear prog and art rock influence, as well as a good number of theaticality, a mix that seems as much influenced by Queen's music hall prog as Spector-produced 60's girl groups.  

Considering how different the music of Harley & Co. could be, the sequencing of most Best-ofs and Compilations - almost always chronological - didn't make sense to me, mostly due to the different styles snuffing out a disc's momentum. If after, say, a couple of sub-three minute glam stompers we stop for a nine minute suite with choirs and several 'movements' the momentum stops dead in its tracks. Don't get me wrong: I think Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel did some of their best and most interesting work on long-form songs such as "Death Trip", but it was difficult to see those tracks working alongside their more single-oriented rock'n'roll sides. So, from the beginning it seemes obvious that I was going to separate thes two different brands of music, which evidently led to the title of the comp. But the title isn't entirely true. What to do, though, with Harley's later work, which is of middle-length, mostly clocking in between four and five minute, but more importantly, is stylistically different again, more reflective and often more acoustic-based, with a voice that cearly shows its years?

So technically, this compilation is now three sets, on three discs: Disc One, The Short Of It, compiles 20 of Harley & Cockney Rebel's  short and sprightly work. Disc Two, The Long Of It are Cockney Rebel and Harley long-form songs. And disc three, the one too long for the album title (and thus cunningly hidden behind an asterisk), is A Long Journey's End, which chronicles Harley's work since the mid-90s, increasingy an old man's songs sung in an old man's voice. There's a lot more sentimentality in these songs whose titles like "The Last Time I Saw You", "Journey's End (A Father's Promise)" and "Compared With You (Your Eyes Don't Seem To Age)" already hint at their emotional and sentimental content. This is both understandable and quite touching. Harley feels that his long journey is approaching its end, so he is, by and by, saying his goodbyes, his regrets and his wished for the future. Speaking of: it seems eminently fitting that the comp should end with his lookinto a future when he's long gone, with "2000 Years From Now" harking back to the spacey prog sound of the Cockney Rebel heydays. 

So, either rejoice in some choice memories of an interesting British band and its main songwriter, or be like me and go from zero to...well, a lot in terms of grooving to that Cockney rebel and his Cockney rebels...

Welcome To Pink Floyd Country

And I mean that literally. Don't let it be said that I don't recognize the trace of a good idea if I stumble upon one. My use of alternate takes including pedal steel and violin when reconfiguring Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here tempted a reader (hi, Thames!) to declare it a country album, which - while not strictly accurate - does capture the different feel of that version. It also left me with a new idea: What about making a real, dyed-in-the-wool country album of Pink Floyd tunes. And here it is: Welcome To Pink Floyd Country? 

There were two problems with the plan: first of all, there were way less country covers of Pink Floyd songs than I imagined - maybe that match made in heaven wasn't as obvious as I made it out to be? And secondly, of those that existed, there was a rather uneven playing field: I could probably fill a compilation with covers of "Wish You Were Here" and "Time" alone, as these two are by far the most popular cover song choices, including some country & bluegrass artists. But I wanted a variety of songs, so no doubles, not counting the pedal steel version of "Wish You Were Here" of the band itself that was all over the OBG Edit of Wish You Were Here, and is here in all its unaltered, full glory. 

But I did find enough good stuff to complete This Is Pink Floyd Country. One thing that was interesting is that more than half of the tracks on here come from The Wall. I wouldn't have thought that at first, thinking that tracks from Dark Side Of The Moon would outnumber them, but that was definitely wrong - "Time" excluded. Though, to be fair, I took a full four tracks from a single band and album: Luther Wright & The Wrongs covered the entire Wall album in a bluegrass style, though I'm still not quite sure whether the whole thing is an elaborate piss-take on the album or an honest, if definitely idiosyncratic take on it. There is definitely a touch too much of country humour in Mr. Wright's voice, but I took the tracks that sound the most genuine, while definitely bringing the country instrumentation in spades.

I'm already on the record as declaring Cornbread Red's take on "Comfortably Numb" as my favorite take on the song - ever. But there are also great takes on "Mother" by main Dixie Chick Natalie Maines and a really nice run through "Run Like Hell" by multi-instrumentalist David West (he also adds a great take on "See Emily Play"). Wish You Were Here is represented by Cody Jinks' fantastic take on the title song, again led by a majestic pedal steel, showing how that song would have turned out if David Gilmour was a redneck (and I mean that in the best possible way), as well as prog bluegrass band Kitchen Dwellers' take on "Welcome To The Machine". Out of the "Time" covers I chose the one by Cash Dawson, who really brings a nicely atmospheric alt country/Americana vibe to it. And finally, there's Billy Strings with an awesome, extended take on "Fearless". 

So, cool cover, cool cover versions, here's This Is Pink Floyd Country for your delectation...