Saturday, April 5, 2025

Not just another Queen album...it's just another Miracle...

One thing inevitably leads to another. That is true for some parts of your life, while others are completely random, but it's very true for this lil' music blog. When I investigated what Highlander material was officially issued by Queen when working on what became the Highlander bonus EP, I stumbled upon the The Miracle box set that Queen had issued last year. As some reviewers have remarked, The Miracle is a curious album to get the box set treatment: It's nobody's favorite Queen album, and it's nowhere near their best, either. It probably ends up in the back third, okay-ish but for fans section of their discography. 

But for every argument why this album didn't scream out for a box set treatment, there are arguments, why it exists. For one thing: wealth of material. Having burned through tours and albums at a frenetic pace throughout the early 80s (that's why the 'Live Aid as a panacea to a possibe separation' as well as the 'live rebirth' arcs were some of the many hard to swallow untruths of the ridiculous Bohemian Rhapsody biopic, there were less than two months between Queen wrapping up their The Works tour and Live Aid!) the group was completely knackered at the end of their Live Magic tour towards the end of 1986. For the first time in a long time, the band was going to take some time off. And instead of scrounging songs together because it was time to do another album, they would just reconvene when they had enough songs to feel well about beginning sessions for a new album. 

When they convened in early 1988, they had material, but they also had something else: knowledge of Freddie Mercury's health issues. While he didn't quite call his HIV-illness by its name, the band members understoodd the gravity of the situation. One indirect outcome was a novelty in Queen history: Instead of fighting for representation, royalties and 'getting their stuff in', all songs on the upcoming albums would be credited to all members of the group, no matter who wrote them. No more infighting over that shit, which had often led to the worst situations in the band, notably during the run-up to Hot Space (which was the real period where the band members were at each others' throats over everything). Anyway, with every member having been occupied with solo and side projects, when they got together for what was to become The Miracle, they were fully reloaded and cut -according to rumors - almost tirty songs, of which ten ended up on the album, and another five as bonus tracks or b-sides. Which means that there are still a dozen or so compositions from the era that were unaccounted for, but heavily bootlegged.   

With the box set, a bit of this material got an official release, together with a disc that runs through a number of early versions of the The Miracle songs, ranging from demos to first or unadultarated takes. These form the basis of today's One Buck Record of the day, ...Just Another Miracle

On the box set, these versions were presented as if you were hanging out in the studio with chatter, count in's, false starts, little doodles before and after the tracks etc. That's a fine way for fans to fully emerge themselves into the work of their heroes, but it's a terrible way to listen to this material as an actual album. So I got rid of all of that, making it sound as much like a real, finished album as possible. There were two vocal flubs, where Freddie Mercury either missed or messed up his vocals, so I edited these errors out. What you're left with is, I think, the most listenable version of the work-in-progress presentation of the Miracle songs. 

"Party" and "Kashoggi's Ship", the twin pieces opening The Miracle are here in their original version, rocking much harder and sounding less processed than the album versions. They were admittedly a slightly weird way to open an album, but I always liked these. Like the album as a whole, "Party" and Kashoggi's Ship" drown in electronics on the album, with especially the drums and keyboars sounding programmed to the gills. "The Miracle", a Freddie Mercury-John Deacon co-write is presented here as a demo with 'John's original ending'. To be fair, his jaunty synth coda at the end doesn't work at all, other than a curiosity, and it's no wonder they reworked that, but all that doesn't make it less interesting to hear. 

The original version of "I Want It All" is again much tougher sounding than the version they published. It originally started with some seconds of an impromptu jam/boogie section that didn't go anywhere, so I edited this to start of the song proper and edited arund Mercury originally fucking up his first lines. "The Invisible Man" is the demo version with most of the lead vocals done by writer Roger Taylor. Otherwise, the song is pretty much in place already, the punchy percussion and no key changes further giving away that this is Taylor's baby. 

I decided to add the song intro of the album's version of "Breakthru" to this original take, taken from an abandoned Mercury demo called "When Love Breaks Up", even if this version misses the line linking both bits. But well, the song just felt 'wrong' without it. Again, a minor edit to get rid of a Freddie comment in the song. The first part of the song sounds very familiar, but the second part is quite different. They hadn't yet worked out the breakdown around the two and a half minute mark, where Mercury's sharp "...now!" is missing. So it has a little bit of empty space in the middle, filled - as you would imagine -  with some Mercury ad libbing. Freddie is also clearly adlibbing and having fun towards the end of the song, proclaiming "You know something...if this song would stop right now, this would really be a breakthru, Brian. I mean, if I would drop dead, that would really be a breakthru, honey!".      

Not much to say about the demo version of the minor "Rain Must Fall", other than I edited out another Mercury vocal flub when he missed his cue. The song isn't much to write home about, and considering that they had much better material in the can, one wonders why this was included. The same is true for "My Baby Does Me" (here still entitled "My Baby Loves Me"), which I never had much use for. Sorry, John Deacon, but your two groove-based Miracle contributions are...not great. When listening to The Miracle my attention always waned towards the end of the album due to the stretch of "Rain", "Scandal" and "My Baby" which I always found a little boring. The victim of circumstances: The album closer "Was It All Worth It?", tucked away at the end after the album's least convincing song sequence. I had forgotten that this is a genuinely great Queen song, and definitely an underrated deep cut of theirs. 

"Was It All Worth It?" was, in light of Freddie's diagnosis, their first stab at 'a last Queen song' "What is there left for me to do in this life? Did I achieve what I set in my sights?" start Mercury's musings on his and his band's rock'n'roll career. It's also a god damn killer with some patented May riffage and high-powered rock'n'roll that revives both the original album and this alt from its three quarter slumber. 

These alternate versions don't make The Miracle miraculously a great album - the essence of the songs stays the same. But the rough mixes and original versions bring a toughness and more natural sound to a number of their songs, while the not-yet-finished bits in "The Miracle" or "Breakthru" are an interesting look at how they would figure out what worked about the songs - and what didn't. Still, a number of quality songs that could have made The Miracle a stronger album stayed in the shadows or entirely on the sidelines. But don't worry, the One Buck Guy is on the case. Be ready for another stab at The Miracle-era Queen in a couple of weeks with an all-new alternate album with stuff you haven't heard before! But, that is a story and listen for another day, while for now you can pass the time with ...Just Another Miracle

Thursday, April 3, 2025

The Iceman has vanished into the sky

I, like many of my generations, met Val Kilmer as the cocky fighterpilot with a shit-eating grin in a movie full of cocky fighter pilots with shit-eating grins. No matter what else he played, Kilmer was always gonna be Iceman for folks roughly my age. 

Val Kilmer had the Montgomery Cllift dilemma. A self-professed serious actor blessed (or cursed) with movie star looks, he was cast in Blokbuster upon planned Blockbuster instead. Obviously he wasn't a real victim in this, because he gladly took the money and the fame. Had he really wanted to seek out indie roles in serious films, he probably could hav, especially after the Sundance/filmbrat revolution of the early to mid-90s. The one related film was Tony Scott's True Romance, a glossed up take on Tarantino in which Kilmer shows up for about three minutes tops as The Mentor, an imaginary Elvis figure giving advice to Christian Slater's lead character, and is never seen fully, only n reflections, half shadows, silhouette etc. A nice, self-effacing turn from a guy who wasn't about to efface himself, even if it was for serious roles. 

He did had a number of good roles in good to great films. He was really good playing a conflicted cop with Native American heritage in Thunderheart, Doc Holiday in Tombstone and one of De Niro's gangster crew members in Michael Mann's Heat. Those were probably the best years of Kilmer, but he had late career highlights in the modestly distributed and thus little-seen The Salton Sea and an extremely fun turn opposite Robert Downey Jr. in Shane Black's Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

A throat cancer diagnosed in 2015 and its subsequent treatments damaged his voca chords irreparably and robbed him of his voice. Kilmer spent the following years asssembling memoirs, the book I'm Your Huckleberry and the autobiographic documentary Val. Fittingly, though, the last memory of him that most of us have, was in a reprisal of his first key role. Top Gun: Maverick was easily one of the best of the lecacyquels that became popular around the time, and Tom Cruise insisted that Kilmer have a short appearance in it. 

It was time to let go. Thank you, Ice, for everything.   


R.I.P. Val Kilmer, 1959 - 2025



Today's download is a little mixtape I made right after seeing
Top Gun: Maverick, mixing the film's signature songs with the unreleased score from Hans Zimmer and some dialogue. Top Gun's music, 80s cheese, and all, will always be my wingman. And it can be yours, too...


Tuesday, April 1, 2025

Into the unknown of garage rock: The legend of The Firefighters

Lawrence Gaylord ("LG") Snyder was born in 1950, grandson of James L. Snyder of the Snyder Railroad Company out of New England. Coming from a rather well-off family young LG got, according to his own recollection, infected by the explosion of amazing new rock sounds, and especially the garage rock of the mid-60s, hat showed him that talent could be secondary to enthusiam when playing rock'n'roll music. Trained on piano by his mother, he switched to guitar, despite the misgivings of his family about such a 'vulgar' instrument. He started writing his own songs at around 15, then recruited his first band among his class mates: Canadian import Eric St. Laurent on lead guitar, Tommy Zordi on bass and Zack Domino on drums. 

They were first known as The Nihilists, a name quickly abandoned, then as the Back Stars, before becoming The Firemen, and then The Firefighters. Snyder had a different name planned for the last iteration of the band, but more on that later. Throughout the last two years of high school the band played the usual hig school balls, homecoming and the occasional house party, their repertoir mostly consisting of sped up, guitar-heavy version -s of the hits of the day, plus an original song or two. After finishing high school - something his rather conservative family insisted on - he decided to try for a career in music instead of following in his father's footsteps and becoming a doctor. 

One of two surviving pictures of The Firefighters

The band had built a primitive rehearsal room in the back half of his family's guest house and were allowed to perform their "awful noise" (LG's father Lawrence Sr.). The band managed to get a publishing contract with local mini label Roof Music, and some studio time to work on material. Musically, there was just one problem: Though an extroverted and entertaining front man, LG Snyder wasn't much of a singer. But since he was footing the bill thanks to his trust fund, his band mates had little choice but to put up with sometimes less than entirely successful vocal performances by their leader. In the DIY spirit of the garage rock movement it's probably fair to say, that they had a point. 

In February 1968 the band cut a tape of eight songs, three originals and five covers, including covers of the recent hits "Nights In White Satin" and "A Whiter Shade Of Pale". Roof Music, however, had by this time started to leave garage bands behind to focus on psychedelic acts, and despite some overtures of the band in that direction, PeteYork at Roof Music didn't feel that The Firefighters' music had a chance of success. So a proposed single with their cover of "Hey Joe", backed by the original "Room To Room With The devil" was scrapped. This, as it turned out, was the beginning of the end for the band. 

Zack Domino got his draft notice, then subsequently went to Canada to dodge the draft. At around the same time, St. Laurent returned to Quebec to work in his family's furniture store. With the band down to just Zordi and Snyder, Zordi decided to work fulltime at the family restaurant, and Snyder was left without a band. Dejectedly, he finally followed into the family-endorsed career plan and enrolled at Boston  University to become a doctor. Even after moving to Texas later in his life, "Doc" Snyder always preciously kept the reel-to-reel tape of The Firefighters' demo tape, mostly in a well-tempered garage. It was upon his death in 2018 from a heart attack that his kids found the tape and were amazed what their father had been up to so many years before. In trying to transfer the reels to digital, local music lover Sergei Gleithman was astonished by the results when proposing the transfer in his music shop and called Toby "Rocko" Shamani of Boston-based independent label Jamaica Plain Records. Shamani, a fan of original ska and garage rock decided to issue the record and so in 2019 the mini-album We Are The Firefighters finally saw the light of day, more than sixty years after its recording.

Still in the same space...and sadly no firefighter costumes (they were still The Back Stars at the time, I believe...)

Bratislav Metulskie from garagedoor.ru opines: "These guys were a hidden treasure. Behind the rather extravagant vocal sylings of lead singer LG Snyder, the band could produce a racket of noise when they wanted to, but where also able to rein things in, especially on their surprisingly subtle take on traditional 'I'm Going Back To Old Texas Now'. The finding and remastering of these tapes long lost to time and memory is a major cause for celebration and any garage rock and pysychedelic rock fan should celebrate this release, especially since the sound quality is simply astounding for recordings that are now over 55 years old. Major thumbs up!". Robert Overbarger from Allmusic adds that "while the recordings, much like the band itself, are only a minor addition to the garage band canon, the finding of these tapes is a major event". 

Like most garage bands, The Firefighters mainly traded in covering popular genre songs, including - inevitably - "Hey Joe", a band that seemingly every garage band had in their repertoire (though they miss out on "Hang On Sloopy"!). They also cover The Who's "My Generation" as the opening track here, while "Nights In White Satin" is a pretty straightforward cover. "A Whiter Shade of Pale" gets a swinging, jazz-inspired arragement, set to what sounds almost like a polk rhythm, and including a trumpet solo. Maybe they weren't geniuses, but The Firefighters definitely tried some stuff! This is also true for their slowed down take on "I'm Going To Leave Old Texas Now". 

Snyder in 2016, guitar still in hand...

Of the originals, "Room To Room With The Devil" is pretty much early hard rock, as is "Beside The Snake", which adds some nifty psychedelic touches. And then there's the band's 'theme' song, picking up the band's original, more vulgar name. It took some convincing from Pete York at Roof Music that The Firefuckers as a band name would mean that there was no way to officially distribute their recordings, so Snyder renamed the band and also rewrote their band anthem "We are the Firefuckers" to "We are the Firefighters". For this re-issue, the original, untouched version of the song - also discovered on the tape - has been used. 

So, folks, are you ready for some Firefighters to cause a ruckus and bring you back into the heady days of the late 60s? Then let LG Snyder and his parthers in crime noise take it away...



Not just another Queen album...it's just another Miracle...

One thing inevitably leads to another. That is true for some parts of your life, while others are completely random, but it's very true ...