A Hard Hobbit To Break…
If you are truly in the mood for magic a good place to start is with J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord Of The Rings. What, with Gandalf and Frodo traveling about Middle-earth with all their friends trying to prevent the evil Sauron from acquiring the One Ring that Frodo has been tasked to carry until the bitter end?
Lots of fun and three truly great movies if you are into all that. I have all three extended version DVDs that came out after the theatrical releases and they are even better. Especially if you have a full day with nothing to do, or several days with nothing to do.
The best I have been able to manage is one on a single day as after a movie of that length I just can no longer remain seated. I must get back to reality, there is work to be done, cheese to be posted…
About a year ago I actually went and saw a musical comedy based on Tolkien’s story’s. It was very funny and quite enjoyable but there wasn’t a guitar to be seen or heard. An electric piano and an electric drum set yes, but no rock and roll for Frodo. The big guy doing a Don Deluise impression while singing about how tough life is as a Balrog was quite funny and charming but it was not even remotely rock-ish…
So, if you enjoy this delightful and detailed fantasy world but still want to rock while being there, there is only one song for that…
“Ramble On” from 1969′s Led Zeppelin II album never charted in the U.S. but did actually make a wave in Canada. A small wave, but a wave none the less. In the States “Ramble On” has been in the rock radio rotation since, as these things go, the beginning of rock radio. After all these years it still holds up rather well.
A bit of acoustic guitar and a rhythmic assault on a plastic trashcan start the show. (A similar technique was used to great effect on Fleetwood Mac’s “Second Hand News” when Mick used the top of a chair back for the basic rhythm.) Then it’s off to the races with a truly delightful bass track by John Paul Jones that gives “Ramble On” a bouncy feel that continues when Bonham’s drums come in.
Jones’ bass is just so much fun! He’s all over the place, jumping in and out of the melody adding some cool runs and precision finger acrobatics in the chorus.
Robert Plant’s vocals are a mixture of benign neglect and screaming passion as only he could do in those early Zep days. And, as always, Bonham’s drums are strong and complex as the song moves through it’s odd time changes and breaks.
All in all, Tolkien in under five minutes?
There is a reason it’s still on the radio all the time. It’s a great song!
Topics: Cheese Wizardry | No Comments »
Would you stay if she promised you heaven?
Coming near the end of our long Magical Mystery Tour, this time out we have a very famous song about a witch — perhaps second only to that one that starts with “Ding dong.”
“Rhiannon” is one of those records that, with its elegant, attention-demanding intro, sounds like it’s going to be a lot more interesting than it actually turns out to be.
The mythological Rhiannon did have some powers of enchantment, apparently, and Stevie Nicks’ lyrics are working hard to convey a magical nature. But what that ends up amounting to is “rings like a bell,” “takes to the sky like a bird in flight,” and “like a cat in the dark.” The images are so bland that they can’t really evoke much sense of the strange.
The only really strong image is the one (wisely) most repeated: “Have you ever seen a woman/Taken by the wind?” That does actually leave room for a bit of imagination.
It all sounds good, though, and wears well in that sense for a ’70s hit; the bass is complex but subtle, and the restrained energy in the guitars as they build toward the refrain (“Rhiannon, Rhiannon, Rhiannon, Rhiannon”) adds power without breaking the mood.
But what magic there really is in this silly record is in Stevie Nicks’ vocal. Even with a limited range, she was a fine pop singer, with a knack for making nonsense sound important — which was, given her ambitious but often disappointing songwriting, exactly the knack she needed.
Topics: Cheese Wizardry | No Comments »
Which Witch is Which?
When one finds the words of a charming stranger comforting it is usually best to keep your wits about you.
A kind word, a smile, an offer of love…
Some of the things we desire in this life as we travel our way from childhood to becoming an adult and into old age. Some of us make our way with careful, well thought out steps and some of us crash through the gates chasing what we are after. A few seem to go from one disaster to the next, never quite getting control of their lives…
The truly unfortunate go even further, believing the things that are said in a moment of passion.
The magic of words you want to hear is a powerful concoction.
Ah, the joys of self delusion; and Jethro Tull’s “The Witches Promise” is a grand exercise in self delusion. From the earlier days of Tull before they turned into an exotic combination of progressive rock and Elizabethan English folk musicians, “The Witches Promise” is a tale of a women who fails to see through the words of her new love”s deception. Believing his words, (it is unusual that the witch is male in these sort of things, but it was 1970,) she hopes to gain by her own deception.
The witch, as usual, has his own ideas.
“But he was willing to give to you, but you didn’t care, you’re waiting for more but you’ve already had your share.”
One thing seems to be a constant in the world of magical rock songs, the witch always wins.
“The witches promise is turning, so don’t wait up for him, he’s going to be late…”
Topics: Cheese Wizardry | No Comments »
The Fruits And The Spices Of Love
After a brief interruption, we begin again on our magical journey with a bit of late-period progressive rock from Genesis, from 1978′s Then There Were Three.
No non-live YouTube clip, so an iLike link instead.
This is a reworking of sorts of Keats’ “La Belle Dame Sans Merci,” a short narrative poem in which a knight has spent a long and wonderful day with a stranger, a beautiful woman who soon declares she loves him. They retire to her “elfin grot,” but he has a terrible dream of “pale kings and princes too/Pale warriors, death-pale were they all,” who tell him he has fallen prey to “La Belle Dame Sans Merci.” The knight, now doomed to lurk on a hillside forever, may be a ghost, dead like the Dame’s other victims, but if so he hasn’t caught on to it yet.
Genesis’ tale of a victimized knight has a less hapless hero, who starts off by rescuing the woman from a monster. But, as Phil tells us, “We know she’s a demon/Come to lure him to a demon’s lair.” This knight catches the warning signs, and “thanks her kindly, preparing to go on his way.” But she tempts him with “the fruits and the spices of love,” and he goes with her, knowing full well he’s walking into a trap. From which, like Keats’ knight, he never escapes. Of course, as Phil sings portentously, “Who can escape what he desires?” (That line may be one of rock’s better rhetorical questions.)
The lyrics of “The Lady Lies” are pretty much art-school prog, but the tune is strikingly poppy (and peppy) for the subject matter. Cut out a 90-second chunk in the middle (about 2:25 to 3:55, to be more precise), and melodically this could as easily be the Genesis of the ’80s. Though of course, the lyrics would need to be changed, probably to some kind of irritable love song.
There are some nice things going on musically, of course, though the band had lost Steve Hackett and there’s no guitar to be found. Collins does his usual masterful job on the drums, but it’s Tony Banks with keyboards and more keyboards driving this one, with some snazzy, attention-demanding swoopage opening the song, transforming into a gorgeous pipe organ sound that follows Collins up the scale on the first crescendo, at the 35-second mark. And whenever the demon lady begins to beg, “Come with me, I need you,” there’s a great clinkety-clink piano that underlines her hypocrisy.
The keyboard solo is nifty in itself, though it’s not actually a very good fit with the rest of the melody and goes too bluesy for these medieval goings-on. But the last time we hear from the lady, that clattery piano is once again accompanying her words, but faster and more aggressive, moving to the forefront for the last minute of the song. Her theme now dominates because, of course, she’s won.
Topics: Cheese Wizardry | No Comments »
Quoth The Raven (Kinda)
The Alan Parsons Project released their first album in 1976, Tales of Mystery and Imagination, featuring musical reworkings of poems and stories by Edgar Allan Poe.
And that was the problem. There are very few writers of prose or poetry less suited to reworking of any kind, much less in pop musical form, than Poe. He was the most distinctive and deliberate of writers, and is strikingly unsuited to paraphrase.
As shown in the Project’s shot at “The Raven”:
In Poe’s “Raven,” the bird in question reflects the self-torturing bent of an already troubled narrator who, having heard it speak only the single word “Nevermore,” asks the raven very specific questions to which he is terrified, or perhaps certain, he already knows the answers. His misery is self-inflicted but horribly inevitable.
In the Project’s minimal take, a dude is followed around by a bird that keeps repeating “Nevermore” because — well, apparently just because.
The musical setting is fine in itself, though, with a good spooky tension to it, and a ghost of Steeleye Span in the opening. And the vocal (where you can hear it) is nicely done. But it all should’ve gone in service of some other lyrics. Tales of Mystery and Imagination was, I think, one of those Project projects that only sounded like a good idea.
Topics: Cheese Wizardry | 1 Comment »
Toto! We are in Kansas!
Being a big fan of progressive rock and its multitudinous incarnations, stretching from early Genesis, Procol Harum, Emerson, Lake and Palmer, and Yes all the way to XTC and early Styx, I do love a big keyboard. I am not sure how big keyboards became such a prog-rock requirement, but they were and are, and I am all good with that.
If you find yourself loving the church organ sounds of “Whiter Shade Of Pale” or the keyboard explosion at the end of Yes’ “Starship Trooper,” (the live version from the original Yessongs, the 1972 triple album), then you must really, truly be a prog-rock fan.
By the middle of the 70′s, the whole thing was kind of winding down. Most of the prog bands were finding it harder and harder to find or keep their audience. ELP had faded away, Yes was still pretty big but not selling many albums. Genesis at this point had never sold albums but were minor deities to their fans until Peter Gabriel left and Phil Collins picked up the microphone, but then they headed off into a much more pop style. Who was left?
Kansas was…
Or rather, they started later and had a bit of a different approach to prog than their predecessors. While fiddle was by no means unknown to rock or pop music, it was truly a lead instrument with Kansas, and that made it different. You still had the keyboards, drums, bass, and guitars happening, but you also had this fiddle right up front with the same swagger of any big rock star guitar player. That was pretty cool!
Kansas had made it big with their Leftoverture album the year before and were on a roll. Fully backed by Don Kirschner, who was a true rock n’ roll impresario at the time, having formed the Monkees in the 60′s to having his own late-night television show to promote his own acts and others, Kansas had the door opened, and they crashed right on through. While nearly every other prog act was fading away or changing style, Kansas became a radio and sales monster.
“Portrait (He Knew)” is an almost perfect counterpoint to “Stargazer.” Kerry Livgren and Steve Walsh were writing about a guy who did know what was going to happen. Rather than just walking off of the tower to fly, this guy would tell you what was going to happen if you did.
Nostradamus was the guy. The guy who knew.
Kansas also knew something, they knew how to write a killer hook and how to make some magic with a song about a guy who always professed he was not a magician. That he just knew.
Topics: Cheese Wizardry | 1 Comment »
Where was your star?
As we continue wandering the magical wilds, we present a tale of a wizard’s mad ambition, from Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow:
The singer is one of a troop of workers, enchanted and enslaved, who are building a huge stone tower for a wizard who believes that the tower will let him leap up into the stars.
After nine long years and the deaths of many laborers, the tower is at last completed, and:
All eyes see the figure of the wizard,
As he climbs to the top of the world.
No sound, as he falls instead of rising
Time standing still,
Then there’s blood on the sand
Oh, I see his face….
The bewildered workers are freed, the wizard’s hold over them broken by his death:
Time is standing still,
He gave me back my will,
Going home,
I’m going home
All good old-fashioned heavy metal lunacy. But it is sung by Ronnie James Dio.
Dio makes this all-day wonder (8 1/2 minutes!) into a glorious metal aria, singing with passion and conviction and making the most of his exceptional technical skills. He may sound wild, but every howl and snarl, every quake of vibrato and leap through his considerable range, is a genuine, no-compromise-required artistic choice. Dio plays here and there on the Zeppish, Middle Eastern feel of the song (check right at 1:14) without a ghost of parody or pastiche. And among all the fireworks, every word is perfectly clear. From 1976, “Stargazer” shows off a great singer in his prime, and completely in command.
And Dio is paired up here, of course, with Ritchie Blackmore, arguably the most influential guitarist of the ’70s (no, it’s not that guy who stood behind David Lee Roth). Blackmore’s long solo starts at 3:30, and by 3:55, he’s at top speed. But the solo is musical, melodic, elegant, and absolutely clean, expanding and translating the Oriental mood into shred-free lightning.
“Stargazer” represents the best of ’70s gods-and-monsters metal, without the proggy pretensions that sometimes weighed down both Rainbow and Deep Purple, or the too-dark subject matter that sometimes marred Dio’s lyrics. Dio and Blackmore really were an extraordinarily good match in style, skills, and taste — it’s too bad they didn’t work together more.
Topics: Cheese Wizardry | No Comments »
Soon As I Find Myself…
All over the country there are bands that are big dogs in their own corners of the universe but not really well known or known at all outside of their home town or perhaps a part of their state or a few counties here and there. These are the day to day working dog musicians.
They almost always have a day job, or at least friends and family to mooch off of as they try to make it big as a singer, guitar player, bassist, take your pick. The vast majority of these quite often great artists will never be heard by people living much more than a few miles away from their hometown. That is all too often the life of a musician.
Some decide to take the plunge and head off to New York, Los Angeles or Nashville where the odds are better for success, so they think, until they realize that everybody else who is serious about making it had already done the same thing. So now your surrounded by large groups of really talented people and it, perversely, is even more difficult to stand out. So now what?
Sometimes it’s just better to stay home and become really great at what you do and the rest will attend to itself.
In 1961 the seeds of what would become one of the most popular and successful bands of the 70′s were planted. Three of the members were there from the start. Another joined in 1969 after becoming friends in college and the fifth would join shortly thereafter. Now a quintet, they would remain in that formation through the early years of playing local clubs and pretty much anywhere else that would hire them all the way to playing the biggest stadiums in the country.
After all those years of local popularity and even a record contract with a minor label releasing four albums, they still hadn’t “made it.” That did start to change when a single from their second album started to get airplay some two years after it’s release. This exposure led to a new album contract with a major label and an album with their first real opportunity to be heard outside of their native Chicago.
Just when the band was reaching more people then ever before John Curulewski, the friend from college and one of the guitarists, left the band on the eve of their first major tour. In the mad dash to find a replacement they remembered a young guitarist from Alabama they had met a few years before while he was playing with another band on tour in Chicago. Now with the addition of Tommy Shaw to the line-up, Styx formed a combination that would become one of the biggest bands in history.
“Crystal Ball”, the title song of Styx’s sixth album, was written by Tommy Shaw. I have always found it pretty impressive that the band chose to name the album after a song written by the new guy.
It’s also a very good indicator of where Styx was heading musically as they solidified their own mix of progressive rock with Shaw’s bluesy guitars. That guitar combination of Shaw’s melodic blues style and James Young’s in your face rock thrashing has always been a major draw for me. When you add in Chuck Panozzo’s solid and surprisingly intricate bass-lines and his brother, John Panozzo’s powerful but neatly elegant drums the music is beautifully full and alive with energy. Dennis DeYoung’s versatile piano, keyboards, synthesizer and organ add the musical cherry to the top keeping Styx true to the progressive rock beginnings of the band.
The follow up album to Crystal Ball would be a lifetime career maker for Styx. The Grand Illusion would go Platinum three times over and help to make Styx a fixture in rock music to this day.
Topics: Cheese Wizardry | No Comments »
Make Love Disappear
Today’s magical tune, from the late great Warren Zevon:
“For My Next Trick I’ll Need a Volunteer” is from 2000′s Life’ll Kill Ya, and his voice isn’t what it was in his younger days; Zevon in his prime was a better singer than he often got credit for.
And of course Zevon could engage in self-deprecation without off-putting self-absorption, and wrote thoughtful, often witty lyrics while rarely crossing the line into the facile, or into mere cleverness for cleverness’ sake. (Views may differ on where that line is, but I’d say Elvis Costello, for one, spent most of his prime on the wrong side of it.)
This short song is a long metaphor on a blasted romance and an apparently hopeless search for love. With Zevon’s painful humor well in evidence:
I can saw a woman in two
But you won’t want to look in the box when I do
I can make love disappear
For my next trick, I’ll need a volunteer.
Topics: Cheese Wizardry | No Comments »
Meadows In My Mind
ELO were never a real favorite of mine, but when I think of their long string of hits, there are quite a few I am really fond of. And here, in keeping with our magical theme du jour (or, really, theme du last couple weeks) on WMMCM, we have “Strange Magic.”
ELO knocked out 11 studio albums in 15 years, hugely prolific by modern standards, but what they really were was one of the all-time great singles bands. Twenty-seven top 40 hits, 19 top 20 in the U.S. — remarkable. Also remarkable is that, like Creedence Clearwater Revival, who were possibly the greatest singles band of all time, ELO never had a song reach number one.
“Strange Magic” is from Face the Music, which also featured the still-ubiquitous “Evil Woman” (and truly wonderful cover art). While “Evil Woman” is about as sour a song as any ELO single was likely to be, “Strange Magic” is a very slightly spooky love — or possibly not — song.
Even in the more flexible radio days of 1975, the orchestral intro vanished on the American single, and I don’t think the song loses anything without it. It’s really a bit gimmicky, and that gentle guitar lick is a much more effective opening. The vocal on the verses is fairly low-key (in both senses) for Jeff Lynne, but there’s a tension in his voice there that is released — but not entirely — when he moves into his more usual range on the second half of the refrain.
What is this relationship, anyway? Is this a woman or a vision, as the singer says she is “sailing softly through the sky” and “walking meadows in my mind.” This is a haunted man, perhaps literally, and he doesn’t seem entirely happy about it, as seen in the odd last verse: “I’m never gonna be the same again/Now I’ve seen the way it’s got to end/Sweet dream, sweet dream.”
ELO adored the details, of course, and new stuff keeps popping up throughout — the weird chinking keyboards on the first refrain, the ba-ba-da-ba-ba people behind Lynne in the second verse, the whirlwind strings that join in on the second chorus, where the first drums on the record are also heard, the change of melody in the third verse — all held together by that lovely soft guitar lick.
ELO knew the value of a hook as well as any band ever did, so the chorus gets several repeats in the long fade, joined as things go along by bigger bass and backup singers adding echoes of “strange magic” and lots of lalalalas.
I never did like a fade, implying as it does that a producer got tired of listening and turned it down before the band finished — or perhaps that they never did finish — but it seems to suit “Strange Magic.” I mean, once you start singing that hook, it is difficult to stop.
Topics: Cheese Wizardry | No Comments »
