Purple Rocks!

Posted on January 25, 2012 by Pete

We’re coming to the final rounds of Screaming Cheese here at WMMCM and at this point, we’re rambling on about some of those who can really sing. Not those who just hit the notes and sell a lot of records, (and we certainly covered a few who can really sing but choose to sing garbage as well as some of those who can’t sing but, sing great songs.) Nope, we’re going to beat this subject to death finishing with some of the finest rock n’ roll singers that ever made it on to a record or stage.

While traversing the great divide between those who can, and can’t sing, we’ve tried to make our point that being a major star and selling millions of records is not evidence of great singing ability. That makes them no less of a star and certainly has no effect on their pocketbook. But the point remains, great singers are great singers whether they sell three copies of their latest CD or three million. And bad singers can sell millions of records, sometimes over the span of decades. That might make them a star. Even a legend. It still doesn’t make them a good singer.

For today’s bit of Screaming Cheese I decided to head straight over to the deeper side of metal. Not deep – perhaps – in the intellectual sense. That wouldn’t be very rock n’ roll now would it? No, I’m heading off to a band that for a few years in the early 70′s was not only selling records but, were becoming a major influence for nearly every heavy metal band that came after them. Musically – and vocally.

That can only be…

Highway to the E-Mail Link!

First off, all you Led Zep folks just calm down a little. Deep Purple and Zep were comtemporaries. So was the first incarnation of Black Sabbath, and do any of the three bands sound even remotely alike? Were Sabbath and Purple taken with an affection for the mandolin and recorders? Nope. Not for a second. All three bands working at the same time were doing their own take on how to create heavy metal. Zep and Purple stayed more on the blues side, (with Lep wandering off into nearly folk music every now and then,) and only Ozzy and Tony Iommi have any clue where Sabbath were coming from.

Three great bands doing metal – their own way. And it’s all great.

Why we’re here though is for the sreaming part. And Deep Purple lead singer Ian Gillan certainly fits that roll nicely.

Mostly because, well, he can sing… Really sing!

E-Mail Link for Superstars!

When Deep Purple was still a fledgling act in 1970 Gillan had a side job going. He was the original Jesus in Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Jesus Christ Superstar when it was still only a conceptual rock opera album. As Deep Purple’s fortunes improved and Rice & Lloyd Webber took their musical to the stage, Gillan was recording Machine Head and Fireball. In 1973 when the movie version of Jesus Christ Superstar was in the works, Gillan was asked to reprise the leading role. He decided to take the job only if his band, Deep Purple, would be paid as well because they would not be able to tour while he would be off filming. As we know, that offer was declined and Ted Neeley made the movie and has still been performing the role as recently as 2010.

Any questions as to why Neeley is singing the part of Jesus way up there in the stratosphere?

I always have enjoyed Neeley’s vocals in Jesus Christ Superstar. He’s a great singer. But he’s not Ian Gillan.

Speedy E-Mail Link!

This is Gillan and Deep Purple in 1970. The echo of this vocal is heard over and over again from practically every metal or hard rock band from the 1970′s through the early 90′s when metal faded away from the radio.

Who else sang like this?

For those first five Deep Purple albums, there was nothing really quite like him. Certainly Robert Plant rode some vocal lightning and is as fine a singer as Gillan. But, take the time to really listen and honestly tell me they’re doing the same thing. They’re not.

From the late 60′s, all the way through Gillan’s time with Deep Purple, he could wail and shriek and hit notes he had no business hitting while still sounding absolutely masculine. And what other lead singer of the day would have a song in which the vocals don’t even start until four minutes and twenty seconds in?

Lazy E-Mail Link!

In 1984, Gillan and Deep Purple reunited for a two album stretch. The classic line-up of Ian Gillan, guitarist extraordinaire Ritchie Blackmore, Roger Glover on bass, drummer Ian Paice and keyboardist Jon Lord released Perfect Stranger and The House of Blue Light. Perfect Stranger was the much stronger of the two albums and featured a slightly different Ian Gillan.

Gillan had suffered severe vocal chord damage over the years from his extreme vocal style. After he recovered his voice and returned to lead singer duties with Deep Purple, it was a bit lower and darker and, not a strong as his over the top days of the 1970′s. One important thing remained. Gillan is still a remarkable singer.

Perfectly Strange E-Mail Link!

Losing the ability to vibrate tiles off of the ceiling didn’t slow Gillan down for a second after his recovery. In some ways the loss of the ability to head for the clouds made him an even better singer than he already was. Gillan is more careful in his phrasing and enunciation as if trying to wrestle every last bit of emotion out of the words he’s singing.

Ian Gillan, from his earliest days with Deep Purple in 1969, to today: is one of those truly rare singers. There is a confidence in Gillan’s vocals that is blasted out into the audience like a flamethrower and the crowd is all clamoring to become moths, eagerly wanting to be burnt up by the energy coming from the stage. His pitch is dead on and Gillan’s tone – is always – exactly what he want’s it to be.

A singer with that kind of power, attitude and the skills to back it up…

Is a great singer.

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I know, nobody knows….

Posted on January 23, 2012 by Bridey

Well, somebody knows — who is the best of all hard rock singers. Some might point to Roger Daltrey and the lion’s roar of a voice he developed in the ’70s, or the great metal singer Ronnie James Dio, or the innovative and often wildly effective Robert Plant. But then there’s Steven Tyler:

(Sweetly emotional e-mail link.)

Even on the proto-rap vocal of “Sweet Emotion,” a complaint about life on the road, groupies, and the guitar player’s wife, Tyler is sublimely musical and totally in control. This is a classic rock staple now, but, though Aerosmith had been kicking around a while, “Sweet Emotion” was not a huge hit at the time, reaching 36 on the Billboard Hot 100. But it was 1975, and Tyler and the rest of the band were a rare beacon of raucous, unapologetic but radio-friendly rock ‘n’ roll, standing out among the era’s singer-songwriter weenies, country crossovers, and novelty acts.

Honestly, just look at the year-end Billboard Top 100. There are a few decent rock records — “Fame,” “Black Water,” some others here and there. But on the whole, 1975′s Top 100 is as horrifying a collection of cheesy drivel as was ever spawned in a single year of pop. And disco was just rearing its ugly head, with “Jive Talkin’” and with number 100 on the list — which you will just have to go look at yourself because I cannot bring myself to type it out. If that was all you’d been hearing lately, tell me you wouldn’t have sprinted to the nearest Wherehouse or Licorice Pizza to hear more from Aerosmith and their big-voiced, authoritative frontman.

Because that scrawny dude — surely one of the strangest-looking people in a line of work known for men of what one might call eccentric appearance — could really sing. That was clear from Aerosmith’s very first single, the rather nice, bluesy Led Zeppelin impression that is “Dream On.”

(Dream on, e-mailites!)

Every time when I look in the mirror
All these lines on my face gettin’ clearer

(Tyler was all of 25 when he sang this.) Tyler’s voice at this point is a bit rawer, less polished and distinctive than it would become, and as he sets capably about the sour and mopey opening lines, it doesn’t necessarily jump out right away. But as the tempo picks up, it’s clear that all the essentials of a great rock singer are already in place:

Yeah, I know nobody knows,
Where it comes and where it goes,
I know it’s everybody’s sin,
You got to lose to know how to win

Just listen to how much in control Tyler is, swinging through a word here or opening up a bit on a vowel here and there (“where it go-oes”). He’s making intelligent choices on every word and phrase, and, more importantly, has the voice to make his choices stick — no earnest approximations here. And when the first chorus comes around, at about the two-minute mark, Tyler begins airing it out, just a little. He’s not holding back, exactly, but making it clear he’s not doing all he can, either.

Even as the chorus comes back around and then the repeated “Dream on, dream on” begins at three minutes or so, there’s still a sense that you’re not getting quite all there is to that voice. Indeed, if “Dream On” has a flaw as a vocal performance, it’s that Tyler never quite commits 100 percent he way he would on later records, even when he jumps into a rather nice take on metal falsetto toward the end.

Later on, of course, Tyler would learn to leave it all on the field, as sports people occasionally say:

(Link looks like a lady.)

“Dude Looks Like a Lady” is just a grand vocal. Tyler puts on the pressure, building tension with his voice as he growls out the opening verses and first chorus, building up to the non-surprise surprise:

Love put me wise
To her lovin’ surprise
She had the body of a Venus
Lord, imagine my surprise!

That frustrated shriek on “Imagine my surprise!” is perfect punctuation, and it’s the funniest moment in a pretty hilarious song (dig the stripper horns!). On songs like “Last Child,” “Back in the Saddle,” or, in Aerosmith’s later career, the ghoulish “Jaded” or the (blech) Diane Warren-penned “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing,” Tyler demonstrates his versatility again and again. He sings even the most inconsequential songs — which covers practically all of Aerosmith’s catalog, to be honest — as though pulling every bit of potential from the music and every bit of meaning from the words, however silly (or filthy) they might be, is the most important thing in the world. Tyler is one of rock’s most consistently overlooked great singers — perhaps even the greatest hard rock singer of all.

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Rock Diamonds

Posted on January 20, 2012 by Pete

Friday is the one day of the week that nearly everyone looks forward to. The last day of the work week and the prelude to the – depending on your age – craziness, or relaxation of the weekend. Keeping that in mind, it’s only right to bring up a guy who always seemed like he’d never worked a day in his life when ever you would hear his voice on the radio or see him up on the stage.

A very mystic part of being a rock star is making it look easy when the reality is, that being a rock star is one of the most difficult and demanding jobs in the world. There are perks of course. Travel, fame, money and if you’re a guy – girls. And, if you’re a GoGo, guys.

What doesn’t show up on the stage or the record album is all the years of practice, writing songs, arranging the music, figuring out how to play what’s in your head when your fingers aren’t up to the job yet. The endless days of boredom in the studio while every one else is recording their tracks. The bizarre disconnect with daylight, (and often – reality,) as during the day you’re on the tour bus going to who knows where and that’s the only chance you have to sleep because when you pull in to where ever it is at 3pm, you have to get awake, get warmed up for sound check and then at 8pm, you have to sing you’re heart out for all the normal folks who are not rock stars.

When you have to rare combination of someone who is not only good at it but loves the lifestyle; well then you’ve got something really special.

So, as we here at WMMCM dig a little deeper into Screaming Cheese, it’s time for the Lord High God of Rock Star-ness, David Lee Roth.

Devilish E-Mail Link!

If ever there was a guy that loved being a Rock Star, David Lee Roth is your man. Back in the late 70′s and early 80′s, Dave spent in fact, as much time as possible being every possible girl’s man. He is not exactly the shy type. Not our Diamond Dave.

Roth in many ways carried the flame of rock n’ roll excess for all those earlier 70′s acts that ran out of steam as the decade wound down as well as making it OK for those soon to follow Van Halen to come and join the party as if there were no other reality. (For Rock Stars only, and their groupies – of course.)

Having seen Roth and Van Halen more than a few times in their prime, one thing always stood out. Roth was a huge star and the best front man of his day, and, he loved every minute of it onstage. Adding to the fun was the fact that while careening back and forth all over the stage, he was at least as good a singer live as in the studio, spreading his incredible energy to Eddie, Alex and Mark as well as to, say, the 50,000 people or so in the audience.

NSFW!

A Very Hot Teaching E-Mail Link!

What can get lost in the Rock Star hype – of which Dave himself was the prime motivator, was how good a singer Roth really is.

Secret E-Mail Link!

Is this a typical Eddie guitar riff or a usual Roth vocal? Not by a long shot. Roth is relaxed and letting it all hang loose for “Secrets.”

“She ain’t waiting ’til she gets older,

 Her feet are makin’ tracks in the winter snows.

 She got a rainbow that touches her shoulder,

 She be headed where the thunder rolls.”

Still keeping with the more restrained vocal, Roth glides through the chorus throwing out some marvelous technique and personality as he runs up the scale – all the while exuding such confidence that he could have been singing the phone book and I doubt if it would have mattered much. It would still have worked. Most importantly, you know it’s David Lee Roth. Every second of it.

“Ow, ow, ow, she got that rhythm,  Got that rhythm of the road, ah

Ow, ow, ow, she get crazy Woman get crazy, if she can’t go

Aw, but uh, she just lookin’ good.”

This tasteful and effortless vocal delivery is coming from from one of the hardest singers and biggest bad boys in rock? And he pulls it off? Yeah, he’s that good.

In the good years for Van Halen, (the early years when Roth and Eddie Van Halen were getting along,) the band just overflowed with confidence being buoyed up by Roth’s almost unnatural enthusiasm. So much so that they not only recorded but, actually put on their Diver Down album, a recording of “Happy Trails,” the Roy Rogers and Dale Evans’ television theme song. What kind of hard rock band does that? And, gets away with it?

Happy Trails E-Mail Link! 

Rock bands are always a combination of people who somehow come together and start to make music. Some are better than others in a myriad of ways. Some have great words, some have a great singer or guitar player, some have a sheer joy to their music that makes a lack of musicianship almost irrelevant.

As we’re been writing about here at WMMCM, sometimes, there’s a great lack of proper singing ability. And – sometimes – it doesn’t really matter. The feel, the form or the pure energy of a song or performance can make all the technical stuff simply not matter much. For a while.

That’s not to take away from those less skilled or gifted who make great music. But on those occasions when you have an Eddie Van Halen, Mark Anthony, Alex Van Halen and – a David Lee Roth up front – and personal. Great things can happen. And did.

Who else could have pulled off this classic bit of rock n’ roll malevolence ?

Mean E-Mail Link!

And it wouldn’t have happened at all without Diamond Dave’s fearless vocals and persona. Just ask Gary Cherone.

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Jett Engine

Posted on January 19, 2012 by Bridey

We are not snobs at WMMCM, or we try not to be, but we do believe there’s such a thing as good taste. And here’s an example:

I love e-mail link!

Now just let me enjoy for a moment the feeling of being the only person ever to call Joan Jett tasteful. Aaaah. Thank you.

Joan Jett of course arose from the mid-’70s train wreck that was the Runaways to have a number of hits in the ’80s, and “I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll,” a cover of a British obscurity by the Arrows, was a number one record in 1983.

Joan made herself stand out on MTV as a tough chick in the midst of the big hair girls and stylish boys, and the baggage from the Runaways disaster in its way gave her more credibility, as someone who’d been through the machine before. No, she didn’t have the talent of the similarly styled Chrissie Hynde, but she also didn’t have Hynde’s tendency to self-seriousness. What Joan had was a good-humored sex appeal not unlike that of David Lee Roth — with whom she also shared the crucial characteristic of always seeming to be having an absolute blast. There are earnest and angsty rockers I enjoy quite a bit, but there is something to be said for admitting that sometimes it’s fun to be a rock star.

She really couldn’t, on any kind of technical level, you know, sing. But she’s also a pretty great rock singer, because she knew exactly what she could and couldn’t do, and did what she could do with a joy that is a joy to listen to. Madonna, otherwise no one I particularly admire, had in her prime that same gift for choosing, or co-writing, material that suited her limited real vocal abilities exactly. Ballplayers call it “staying within yourself,” which is a nicer way to put it than “knowing your limitations,” and it’s a valuable but not often appreciated skill, in many contexts.

Joan was a shouter from the get-go and that’s all she aspired to be, and “I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll” could’ve been built to specs. No, she’s sort of not exactly on pitch, but she knows how to sing the words. I love a good voice in itself, but there are times I’d much rather listen to Joan Jett jet-engining her way through a song with real heart than listen to, say, Paul Carrack pretty-voicing all over a song he seems to have learned phonetically. Even when he’s shouting, I don’t believe him for a moment. He’s very capable, and very slick, and very dull.

Like this:

(“Don’t Shed a Tear” link.)

Carrack worked his way through the Squeeze and Mike and the Mechanics after his run with Ace in the ’70s, and he is one of rock’s better voices and one of its most tiresome singers. He attacks everything exactly the same way. (I will grant he perked up a bit on “The Living Years,” and that’s a nice vocal.) The best of the best — and we’re getting to those people — have the voice itself, technical ability that allows them to make real choices, and the ability to sing expressively and with — here’s that word again — taste.

Taste is not the same as restraint, not at all. It’s a sense of what is appropriate. Paul McCartney shredding his voice on “Helter Skelter”? In perfect taste, and it makes you wonder if he, and you, are going to make it out alive. Gregg Allman’s bluesy moan on “Midnight Rider”? Couldn’t be a better fit. Brian Johnson on “Back in Black”? Impeccable — and impossible; what he does on that record is insanely difficult to do.

We’ve had little mercy on singers who persist in deluding themselves, or who seem to make no effort to learn their craft or choose suitable material. But we’ve also called out good singer who’ve made terrible choices in material — the other side of bad taste. What matters most isn’t the singer, the voice, the lyrics, or the music. It’s getting the right singer with the right song — that’s when the little miracles happen.

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Rock Slide

Posted on January 14, 2012 by Pete

Using the inspiration provided by Bridey’s latest treatise on Meat Loaf, I think that I’m going to head off in a similar direction. A singer with one of the best voices in rock music that started out with such attitude and promise and kind of wound up being a bit of a bore.

I hate when that happens. I really do.

Phil Collins from Genesis and of course, his remarkable run of solo hits as well, is a marvelous singer and front man. One of the best that’s ever been. (This is going to sound at least a bit cruel here… Sorry.) Collins had the good sense to go through several nasty breakups and divorces, which provided him with the inspiration to write a great number of his major hits over the last thirty years.

Yes, this is cruel, but some artists get all married and happy and immediately become – boring. There’s no longer an edge to the music – which also seems to evolve into a fruitless challenge to be nice all the time. Collins – unfortunately for him, and fortunately for all of us – has just not had quite the luck in love that others have been blessed with.

Which brings us to the subject of today’s bout of Screaming Cheese. Yes, a lady with one of the best and most powerful voices that has ever graced a rock concert stage or recording studio isolation booth with all of this amazing talent and attitude, who slowly slipped into the niceties of mediocrity.

Heartbreaking E-Mail Link!

Five feet (one hundred and fifty two centimeters for our international readers) of pure dynamite when she first hit the radio in 1979, Pat Benatar had already been singing her way to the top for nearly a decade playing clubs, theaters, and recording radio commercials. She even had her first, although unsuccessful single, in 1974. Everyone around Benatar knew she could sing but she was still keeping with her formal training as a theatrical and classical singer. Once she decided to stray away from the formal singing styles she grew up with, Benatar was immediately impressive and shortly thereafter, was also a newly signed rock star in training with Chrysalis Records.

As is all too often the case, even Chrysalis Records – who signed the young powerhouse – didn’t quite get her at first. Upon completing her debut recording, In the Heat of the Night, Chrysalis released the Johnny Cougar cover version, “I Need A Lover,” which went nowhere. Then they released “If You Think You Know How to Love Me,” which also proceeded to go exactly – nowhere. After the disappointing lack of chart success, someone with a functioning brain decided to release “Heartbreaker.”

From there, Benatar’s debut album, In the Heat of the Night, would make the charts at the number 12 position while also going platinum in sales and becoming the lead-in for Benatar’s monster hit sophomore effort, Crimes of Passion, which was a five-times platinum seller as well as making Benatar the 1980 Grammy Award winner for Best Female Rock Vocal Performance.

 

By 1981 Benatar had become something of a phenomenon, selling another two million albums as well as hitting number one with her third release, Precious Time, and winning her second Best Female Rock Vocal Grammy. With tough vocals and in your face music, Benatar and her lead guitarist and musical partner – soon to be husband – Neil Giraldo, were tearing up the charts.

Firey E-Mail Link!

From there, it all rolled slowly, painfully, downhill…

In 1982 it all started to go wrong. Benatar and Giraldo had married in February and over the summer Benatar, Giraldo and the band returned to the studio to record what would become “Get Nervous.” I can only imagine the Chrysalis Records execs faces when they heard the new album.

Love is an E-Mail Link!

In fairness, “Love is a Battlefield” was a huge radio and MTV video hit. The album sold well and reached the number four spot. But, was this the same Pat Benatar from only a year before?


Pat Benatar’s “Shadows of the Night” Video
Sorry, no embed video allowed…

Shadowy E-Mail Link!

 

As always, Pat’s vocals are amazing. The music is well produced and – somewhat – interesting. But, somewhere along the road to marital bliss, the attitude and the aggressiveness fell by the wayside. (Perhaps sliding slowly off the wing of the ridiculous fake fighter plane, fingernails clawing the cold metal wing before falling to a premature death.)

After this uncontrolled descent into video and musical frivolousness, Benatar and crew were apparently so blissful that they even forgot how to rock.

Ooh Ooh Link!

1984′s Tropico still managed the 14th spot on the charts and made it to platinum, but is this the same band? The same five foot tall powerhouse that practically begged you to take a swing at her because she knew she’d kick your a— if you tried?

There was one last, brief moment of rock left for Benatar’s recording career, and she used the moment to trash everything that came before.

Sexy E-Mail Link!

The videos, the songs, everything?

“Sex As a Weapon” from Seven the Hard Way is actually pretty rocking song, but was it a good idea to mock all the things that made you into a star in the first place? Benatar was – and is – a very beautiful lady. Her vocals are some of the best of any rock singer. She very intelligently used her looks, attitude, and amazing voice to make a career for herself and what would become her family. I can fully understand and agree with wanting to distance herself from the younger “sexy” image as she got older, married and started to have children. I’ve got no problem with that at all.

But, wasn’t it kind of rude to make fun of her fans for buying her records while she was — young, sexy, and attitudinal?

Most important of all for a rock star, she forgot how to rock.

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But in service of what?

Posted on January 12, 2012 by Bridey

Taking a different angle on our current theme today — that of Screaming Cheese, a.k.a. singers who can and singers who can’t. And with this guy, a singer who emphatically can:

Bat Out of Link for the e-mail people. Join the happy e-mail people!

And it’s Meat Loaf, powering his way through nine-plus minutes of “Bat Out of Hell,” and it’s a remarkable thing. All the things lesser singers get credit for, Marvin Lee Aday from Texas really had, back in 1977. I am a sucker for a big high tenor, it’s a kind of voice I love, and Meat Loaf had the biggest, highest tenor around.

As he starts singing in “Bat,” after a too-long bout of Rundgrenian noodling at the start, there is a bit of whispery rawness in the lower register, but as the song picks up steam at about the three and a half minute mark, you start to get a sense of what this guy can do. By the time he hits “Nothing really rocks/And nothing really rolls” a half-minute later, it blows me away every time. I love this voice. Meat Loaf was at his best as he moved on up the scale, and “Bat Out of Hell” is a showcase for his peculiar powers.

Jump to 4:30, the end of the “Gotta be damned” section, and to the last “dancin’ through the night with you!” Wow. Just wow. Who else in all of pop history could possibly have attacked that as fearlessly and accurately as Meat Loaf does? And by the end of this record, he’s showing off what he has claimed is a natural high C (a creature so rare as to be almost nonexistent among non-opera-trained singers), twice, at 8:59 on the clip and again at 9:05. It’s just an insanely glorious performance by one of rock’s greatest voices.

But in service of what? “Bat Out of Hell” is a pretentious, ridiculous record, as was everything in the double-edged sword that was Meat Loaf’s collaboration with songwriter Jim Steinman. While Meat was never punching above his weight, so to speak, Steinman certainly was, trying to accomplish a Broadway aesthetic with a pop rock vocabulary. And while it occasionally has a certain effectiveness, the overall impact is consistently disappointing, in that special way only a near miss can be.

Yes, they sold 30 million copies of Bat Out of Hell, and it’s hard to argue that Mr. Aday would’ve had anything like the same kind of success if he hadn’t hooked up with Steinman. But wouldn’t it have been nice if he’d tried? If he’d used that glorious voice in the service of better, less gimmicky music, he might have been a great deal more than the footnote in pop history he’s turned out to be (and with that voice, what a country singer he could have made).

This category is all about the voice, and there is Meat Loaf, who, vocally, had it all. But I still wish, every time I crank up “Bat Out of Hell” or “Paradise by the Dashboard Light,” that he’d used his powers for good. Or at least for a great deal more than goofy frat-boy novelty rock. That voice was going to be a muse and inspiration to someone — it’s such a shame it turned out to be someone silly.

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Rush to Judgement

Posted on January 11, 2012 by Pete

As we here at WMMCM continue along with our latest obsession, Screaming Cheese, it’s now time for one of those singers who is not quite as easy to describe as a good – or bad – singer. By some standards, it’s actually somewhat approaching a miracle that he ever made it onto a recording. By others, he’s one of the most interesting voices in rock music and certainly well thought of as a singer while still being someone who’s name would never come up if the question were asked.

How exactly does a singer wind up with these contrary qualities? Well, to start, it helps to come from Canada.

Geddy Lee is a vocal anomaly. Perhaps the only voice comparable to Lee’s with any kind of staying power as well as legendary musical success is the perpetually tortured voice of Pink Floyd’s Roger Waters. Calling Waters a either a good or bad singer would seem to be a waste of time, as well as missing perhaps the whole point of the thing, so his name doesn’t tend to come up in discussions of great singers either.

The difference between the two of them is that if Waters can sing, I’m not sure that he ever really bothered to. Whereas Geddy Lee sings with the best of them, even if it sometimes sounds like he’s a bit tortured himself. (I read a review once that described Lee’s vocals as “a hamster on helium.”)

It’s quite impressive to think that Geddy Lee and Rush have been around since 1968 and in their current line-up, since 1974. That’s a lot of music. And through it all there has always been Geddy Lee’s very distinctive voice. Rush is instantly recognizable from the first note Lee sings even if you somehow miss their musical style. You can’t mistake Lee for anyone else. Ever.

It would be easy to pass off Geddy Lee as just some kind of shouter with a weird little voice, that would also be silly. Lee is actually one of the better rock vocalists in the business but, the oddity of his tone allows too many people to dismiss him as a lightweight. If you pay attention to Lee’s vocals you’ll find that not only is his pitch consistently impressive but he’s also one of the most emotive of all rock singers.

Rush is a band that couldn’t have happened without the happy accident of Lee’s odd voice in the same manner that The Who couldn’t have happened without their madman drummer, Keith Moon; with The Who certainly proving the point after Moon’s death in 1978. Rush however, keeps on going with Geddy Lee leading the way.

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Sink With The Ferry Man

Posted on January 9, 2012 by Bridey

Although I said in an earlier post in this topic that there’s no reason the standards for singing in rock should be so low — or, to be more generous, so flexible — but that’s not precisely true. There is a reason, but it’s not really a satisfactory one. And it has a lot to do with this guy:

Link is the drug.

That’s Bryan Ferry, fronting Roxy Music on “Love Is the Drug,” from 1975′s Siren and the band’s only U.S. hit during their prime period in the ’70s. And it illustrates one way in which RM was one of the most influential acts in rock history. Because they answered this critical and, until then, seldom asked question: What do you do when your handsome frontman, who writes or co-writes nearly every song you play, is not really much of a singer?

Well, what you do if you’re Roxy Music is forge on regardless, playing spectacularly well while allowing song after song to be weighed down by vocals that ranged from mediocre to terrible.

To be fair, Ferry’s pitch is usually pretty decent, but otherwise, there’s nothing to his voice at all but a certain dense, half-spoken quality that gives it a distinctiveness of sorts. And he was also kind of fearless, as illustrated on the (glorious) “Thrill of It All”:

Postage-stamped to minimize risque image. Linked video shows NSFW cover!

And fearlessness is something; he got the most possible mileage out of that very limited voice. But Ferry had no range, no real control when he started airing it out, and his diction was plain wretched. And, alas, his pushed-down, through-the-nose, marble-mouthed style — if that is the word — was strikingly easy to emulate, and often was, particularly given the enormous influence RM had in the UK and Europe overall.

Though interestingly, the first act to pick up on the Top 40 possibilities of what Roxy Music was doing was not an English act. Which is to say, these guys:

Candy-o link.

Benjamin Orr’s vocal on “Candy-O” is pure Ferry-izing, and the song, from 1979, is for all practical purposes a Roxy Music record, except with a hook. “Let’s Go,” also with vocals by Orr, is another extremely Roxy-esque effort. And what the Cars caught on to first, a million bands with prettier, more fashionable vocalists — who were less capable singers than Orr and Ric Ocasek — would, within a couple of years, pick up on as well.

Like these guys:

“Hungry Like the Wolf” link.

And these guys:

“Dance Hall Days” link.

And these guys:

“Just Can’t Get Enough” link.

And dozens of other acts from the ’80s and well beyond that have permitted middling-to-bad singers with video-friendly looks to stand up and provide only an approximation at best of what the songs are supposed to be getting at, without the technical ability to make real artistic choices, and nearly indifferent to pitch, diction, and the standards of musicianship that apply to the guys standing behind them. All of it complicated, as noted above, by the fact that these dubious singers are often the principal songwriters — a contribution that has come, far too often, to excuse incapable singing. (Singer and frontman are not equivalent terms, or don’t have to be. Pete Townshend wrote music he couldn’t sing, so the Who hired someone who could. Is Townshend any less a frontman? Or Carlos Santana?)

And that is, sad to say, the most lasting contribution of the great Roxy Music. They were the anti-Bob Dylan in a lot of ways, but, a pop generation later, they caused a new variation on the same problem. We’ve mentioned this before, but Dylan — who was a fine, if unconventional, singer himself — made it easy to excuse sloppy singing in others as a mark of earnestness and authenticity. (“Just listen to the message, man!) Whereas Bryan Ferry, as a really pretty bad singer, was even easier for bad singers to imitate. And as the video era rolled in, he opened the door for every well-dressed pretty boy who could quack or bellow along more or less in time with a tune. (“But look at that hair, dude!”) Ferry and his artistic followers, with the ample and eager assistance of the record labels and MTV, finally made the quality of the vocals in rock music all but irrelevant. Now if the singer can sing — and it does happen now and then; both Linkin Park (are they still a thing?) and the otherwise alarming Nickelback have/had very capable vocalists — it’s a nice bonus. But the days of expecting a professional singer to be able to sing are probably over in rock ‘n’ roll for good. People don’t even know it when they hear it anymore. And, though it couldn’t have been anticipated, Bryan Ferry and Roxy Music are a big part of the reason for that.

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New Wave, Old Problem

Posted on January 6, 2012 by Pete

Continuing with our latest obsession, Screaming Cheese – those singers who can, or can’t sing – while still being rock stars, we’ve decided to not tread too carefully as we make the rounds of the best and the – not – so best.

On today’s menu is a New York punk/new wave group that’s been around for just short of forty years and back in the late 70′s and early 80′s, these guys cranked out some serious hits. After a fifteen year break they returned in 1997 to mild acclaim and reasonable record sales with a song that became a number one hit in the U.K. but barely made a dent on the charts here in the States.

Blondie Link!

Blondie of course. When they formed in 1974 they were a bit ahead of the curve with their original blend of reggae, pop and punk which eventually evolved into what would be called new wave. Debbie Harry was a wild front-women in those early years, scantily dressed and quite often – mostly – undressed. Harry was the prototype of the wild women rock star leading the way for the Plasmatics’ Wendy O’ Williams and Hole’s Courtney Love and others. All that craziness quickly disappeared when Blondie had their first chance at major success with their third album, Parallel Lines in 1978.

Producer Mike Chapman had other ideas for Blondie and running around the stage with indelicate parts on display from time to time was not one of them. So Blondie became a new wave act and Debby Harry stayed clothed.

One thing that didn’t change was that Harry, for all her enthusiasm and charm, is not much of a singer.

Heart-Breaking E-Mail Link!

“Heart of Glass” was the song that made Blondie an international success. Harry’s voice is weak and reedy all through every verse even while being double tracked. She does come into her own a bit on the chorus when she settles in her lower register but still, there’s more character than quality.

Call Me! (Or just e-mail… Link)

“Call Me” is still my favorite Blondie song by a wide margin. A collaboration between disco king Giorgio Moroder and Debby Harry, “Call Me” has attitude in abundance. Chris Stein plays the most aggressive guitar Blondie ever used, Clem Burke’s drums are neatly powerful and melodic, all the while Harry is – at best – adequate. (Burke is also one of the most underrated drummers around. He’s worth concentrating on while listening.)

It’s not a performance that makes you hate it. in fact it’s not too bad at all. That, of course, is the problem. Harry is always just good enough. Her pitch is normally good, if relaxed, and her tone is always interesting. In fact, her tone and attitude is what made it all work. When you listen a bit closer, that’s when things become a bit more perilous.

Ruptured, Rapture Link!

What does one politely say about “Rapture?” I actually enjoy the song though they could have cut about two minutes out without damaging anything, but the vocal? If Blondie haddn’t have been “Blondie,” and Debby Harry haddn’t already become “Debby Harry,” would you sign this lady as the lead singer for your band?

Starting out with a thinner than thin voice, “Toe to toe, Dancing very close. Barely breathing, Almost comatose,” Harry is wandering all over the place. She’s so stylized as to be very close to self parody which she soon enjoins when she “raps.”

“Fab Five Freddie told me everybody’s high,

DJ’s spinnin’ are savin’ my mind

Flash is fast, Flash is cool Francois sez fas, Flashe’ no do.”

It’s just – not good. And it doesn’t get any better. The humor is fine. Actually, it’s the only saving grace of a song that is too long, too strange, and being performed by not only the wrong singer, but the wrong band.

This is – as we will continue to reiterate – not intended to be disrespectful to anyone. Blondie or Debby Harry. I’m a fan of Blondie and always have been. Anyone who can make their living in the music biz for forty years, having hits, writing great songs will always have my respect. That doesn’t make you a great singer though.

Here’s a duet of “Call Me” with Blondie and Shirley Manson of Garbage. “Call Me” is a great pop record, and this might give you a brief peek at how much more powerful it could been with a really great singer behind it.

Blondie and Shirley Manson

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Freddie … uh-oh

Posted on January 5, 2012 by Bridey

Pete having started the ball rolling yesterday, I shall roll us further downhill as we discuss rock singers who can — and rock singers who can’t. And I begin with someone who is widely regarded as one of the finest singers in rock ‘n’ roll…

…for no good reason at all.

Dusty link for the e-mail people.

First, the disclaimer: Freddie Mercury was a great and innovative artist, hugely original and a first-class showman. This is in no way intended to downplay his contributions to rock ‘n’ roll. But he was also one of rock’s all-time terrible singers, with a tiny voice and no range at all. His pitch was good — he was too much of a musician to sing off-key — but, particularly after Queen had reached their commercial peak, he made some of the ugliest sounds ever put on a record in earnest.

I am not trying to talk anybody out of loving Queen and Freddie Mercury, or trying to persuade people who love the sound of Freddie’s voice that they’re wrong. You like what you like, and it’s all good. I love a lot of Queen’s music myself. But our larger point here is that — and I say this with all the respect in the world — most rock fans know so little about singing that they have not a clue who is a capable singer and who is not. People who can dissect a guitar solo or analyze the rhythm of a bassline to the finest detail tend to mistake bellowing for singing and ineptitude for authenticity (thank you, Bob Dylan!).

Vocals are treated less seriously and with less respect than any other part of rock. The expectations of a rock singer are absurdly limited, and there is no reason that should be so. And with no real standards, some of rock’s best singers are consistently underrated or ignored while people of lesser abilities are praised to the skies. Indeed, we intend to accentuate the positive in this theme, talking more about good singers than the less able.

But it is the sort of thing that sets my teeth on edge to hear people cite Freddie Mercury’s “four-octave range” — not just because he had a tiny little range, even if falsetto counts, and it doesn’t. But because it’s nonsense for any rock singer, and nearly any singer at all. The great Roy Orbison may have had a bit better than two octaves. And that is plenty.

Sing the first two notes of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” That’s an octave. The range of “The Star-Spangled Banner” is well under two octaves. A solid octave and a fifth, from a capable singer with good vocal control, will get creditably around nearly any rock song ever written. If you start talking about huge multi-octave ranges, you are talking about opera singers, and they can’t sing four octaves either. (A soprano will have about three octaves, a tenor about three and a half — we’re talking about usable range, not vocalizing at the piano.) Rock singers do not have huge ranges, and they do not need them. Insane claims that someone has a massive multi-octave range do nothing but demonstrate that the person making the claim doesn’t really know anything about singing. (Feel free to laugh at fan-frenzied remarks like “She has a 12-octave range.” That is as silly a thing to say as, “She can run 100 miles per hour.”)

So. Listen closely to the vocal on the (loathesome, and yes, I know the bass player wrote it) “Another One Bites the Dust,” above. The first verse, with Mercury in his stronger lower register, starts out well enough. But by just 35 seconds in or so, listen to how he hits “this” on “Are you ready for this” and “rip” after that. He’s already slipped into speaking the last words of the lines because the melody, such as it is, has gotten away from him. It’s not even talk-singing — it’s just unmusical talking.

But that’s not the kind of detail I’d pick at on its own, if it weren’t for how things continue to deteriorate. When the second verse begins and Freddie gets into his higher range, that’s when you hear what the real problem is. Forget his reputation and just listen to his attack on that second verse. It’s strained and shouty and thoroughly unpleasant as he pushes through a melody that’s too rangy for him. By “How long can you stand the heat?” he’s topped out and become effectively unintelligible, and all you can hear is a tiny voice working really hard to sound like something it’s not. The shout-outs around the two-minute mark are embarrassing, they’re so strained and small. The last verse is even worse, cracking and straining and completely without musicality or control.

Not persuaded? How about this one?

Pressure link!

I loved Queen in the day, but Freddie’s vocal on this is so unpleasant it absolutely makes me cringe, especially side by side with the super-smooth ’80s edition of David Bowie. There’s that idiotic shriek just after the two and a half minute mark … though OK, it’s studio-enhanced and I’m willing to blame that on the producer and a very bad idea. But before that, we’ve had nothing but yelping and yawping and pushing that wee little voice to do things it just can’t do. In the “Give love one more chance” section, Mercury is back in the lower register, and it’s not bad. But he always wanted to sing high and loud, and just did not do it well. Again, just listen. Imagine someone coming on, say, American Idol or The Voice and making exactly those sounds. How far do you think he’d get?

I’m not saying Freddie Mercury never sang anything well, not at all. When he stayed in his limited range, as on “Death on Two Legs” or parts of the magnificent “Bohemian Rhapsody,” he could be an effective rock singer. And the very slightness of his voice, a certain sweetness and flexibility, could be used to fine effect — most notably on “Killer Queen” or even “Dear Friends.”

Link for our e-mail friends.

On “Dear Friends,” he clearly knows he’s created a lovely melody and lyrics worth respecting. It’s not a technically good vocal, exactly — he’s working too hard for that, and he hits a rare off-pitch note on the last word. But he is singing with such care that the effect is very touching. But, in the way of so many rock stars, Freddie Mercury wanted most to do what he was worst at, and pulled the band in a metallic direction that simply did not suit him. He would never have been one of rock’s great voices — but had he not chosen to turn Queen into a mediocre metal band, he would certainly not have been one of its worst.

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