Stephen Stills Plagiarizes…Himself

 

It’s a time-honored practice for a writer to mimeograph his old work and bring it to life in a new form. Heck, prime time television has made it a science ala The Andy Griffith Show begetting Gomer Pyle, USMC and All in the Family begetting The Jeffersons and Maude. Happy Days was a regular assembly line of bad sit coms giving rise to Laverne & Shirley, Mork & Mindy, and the classic Joanie Loves Chachi.

Stephen Stills was such a brazen duplicator he didn’t even change the lyrics or tune for two of his trademark songs. Yes, Stills’ song “Questions” first came to life when he was a member of Buffalo Springfield, and “Carry On” was released by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. But the coda of 1970’s “Carry On” lifts the words and notes directly from 1968’s “Questions,” an unapologetic retread from Stills.

More artists should take a cue from Still and re-version their best work instead of recording weak songs to fill out an album. Encore, Stills, Encore.

Yearning To Be Free

 

In 1974, the newly-formed Bad Company signed to Led Zeppelin’s Swan Song Record label and produced its classic eponymous debut. Soon after, many a bad hair band co-opted the look and mannerisms of Zeppelin and Bad Co, and what was called Heavy Metal devolved into fodder for Spinal Tap and others.

Before Bad Company, there was its progenitor, the great band Free. Through one-of-a-kind vocals and instrumentation, Free produced music that laid bare raw emotion in a way that so-called Heavy Metal bands have yet to replicate.

Free hit its stride with the 1970 album Fire and Water, a song cycle with few weak links. The album’s monster hit “All Right Now” continues to be a power rock staple. The hidden gem that is the album’s title-track showcases Paul Rodgers’unparalleled vocal strength together with the open fuzz tone guitar of the late Paul Kossoff. Rodgers and Kossoff had the unique ability to range in tandem, with voice and guitar acting in harmony.

Before bad metal bands tossed out the obligatory power ballad, Free did it right. The envy of blues singers in the U.K. and U.S., Rodgers could deliver both vocal strength and delicacy. “Oh I Wept” and “Don’t Say You Love Me” are believable because Rodgers’ delivery is so true.

Free soon fell apart amid Rancor between Rodgers and co-writer and bassist Andy Fraser. The drug problems that eventually led to Kossoff’s 1976 death did not help matters. In ’73, Rodgers and Free drummer Simon Kirke set forth for Bad Company. Soon hair metal became a behemoth enveloping Bad Company itself in the process.

Fortunately, the classics never go away. And we await the next band that yearns to be Free.

 

Which One’s Wright


From 1967 to 1979, Pink Floyd’s chronological arc saw the band move from madcap pop act to art rockers, ending ultimately with the group’s music reflecting the disillusionment with each other and society in general. After the band’s first frontman, the whimsical Syd Barrett, succumbed to mental illness in 1968, Roger Watersbecame the titular leader. Waters focused on society’s ills with the brooding albums Animals (1977) and The Wall (1979).

But before Waters led the Floyd down its most depressing path, the band produced blues and jazz-influenced offerings that warmed the soul and freed the mind. Their secret weapon: the late, great Richard Wright.
Guitar guru David Gilmour receives a lot of credit for the musicality of the group, but the major contributions of Rick Wright are often overlooked. With his multi-purpose keyboard work, Wright gave the band much of its sonic depth. Moreover, his compositions brought blues and jazz to the fore. On the Floyd’s seminal post-Barrett album, 1973’s Dark Side of the Moon, Waters lyric-heavy contributions “Money” and “Brain Damage” plodded along like dirges, while the Wright/Waters composition “Us & Them” and Wright’s “The Great Gig in the Sky” opened the tap on the music, incorporating horns and allowing the vocalists to perform what could be referred to as visceral scats. These songs built the Floyd’s reputation as mind-benders, offering the listener a ride to a new, relaxing and boundless space.
Over the years, the relationship between Waters and Wright soured to the point where the former kicked the latter out of the band. They obviously were two very different people and musicians. The Floyd was lucky to have the Wright one.

Ol’ 55 vs. Willin’: Gentlemen Start Your Engines

The car song has been a musical staple since the Model T first rolled off the assembly line. The open road inspires a tune, something we’ve all experienced as we putter along in the driver’s set.

Among the countless examples of musical auto-erotica, a couple that stand out come from Tom Waits and Little Feat respectively. Both “Ol’ 55” and“Willin’” are so well-regarded by musicians that they have been covered many a time (most popularly the Eagles’ version of “Ol’ 55,” and Linda Ronstadt’s take on “Willin’”).

Which tune is better? That’s an open question. “Ol’ 55” appeared on Waits’ 1973 debut album Closing Time, and his voice hadn’t yet developed its trademark rasp. The young Waits maneuvered in a more traditional folk landscape at the time. But “‘Ol 55” does traffic in his proven milieu of a guy dealing with love and lament while trying to make his way through the work-a-day world. Perfect fodder for a car song.

Little Feat’s Willin’ 1977

“Ol’ 55” is a musical hot rod, but the checkered flag here goes to “Willin’.” According to Little Feat frontman Lowell George, the drug references in the song drove Frank Zappa to fire George from The Mothers of Invention. The original, stripped-down recording of the song appeared on the group’s 1971 eponymous debut, but the better (and better-known) souped-up version showed up on 1972’sSailin’ Shoes. We relate to, empathize with, and root for the road-weary hero of “Willin,” a jack-of-all truckers who, despite pining for his lovely “Dallas” Alice, guarantees delivery. It doesn’t hurt that Lowell’s running mates in the Feat supply great guitar and keyboard parts along the way.

Which tune wins your race? Can’t go wrong with either, really. Both are certainly worth the ride.

Did Doors’ Krieger Have More Mojo than The Lizard King?

For most, The Doors were defined by iconic lead singer Jim Morrison. He exuded sexuality and spirituality, delivering his cryptic psychedelic lyrics with wails and growls. The Lizard King’s young life story ended dramatically in Paris, and fueled many a book and movie.It turns out that the most catchy and successful Doors’ songs were crafted by the groups youngest and most unassuming member, guitarist Robby Krieger. The band’s first hit, “Light My Fire,” was penned by Krieger when he was but 20 years old. Krieger also wrote “Love Me Two Times,” “Touch Me,” and “Love Her Madly,” all songs dripping with the sexuality often ascribed to Morrison.

Jim Morrison’s vocals and stage presence definitely brought passion to the Doors’ material, including Krieger’s compositions. And the playing of Krieger, keyboardist Ray Manzarek and drummer John Densmore, was both powerful and unique. Any band that eschewed a bass guitar player in favor of a bass pianist like Manzarek had to be something special.

In the end, the Doors were much more than a one-man band. Their distinctive music often superseded the lyrics. And it was the quiet Krieger, fresh out of his teens, who wrote the songs that opened the Doors to stardom.

In The Mix with Tom Dowd

Tom Dowd was the man behind the curtain. Before their records hit the airwaves, Dowd defined the sound for countless artists including Aretha Franklin, Cream, Dusty Springfield, Derek & the Dominos and The Allman Brothers Band. Though most of us don’t know it, Dowd was essential to the creation of dozens of hits from the ‘60s and ‘70s.

Dowd heard the nuances of songs often before the band. The pioneering force behind multi-tracking, he took bare-bones tunes and transformed them into rich and lush songs through overdubs and mixing.

Dowd’s contribution to music is chronicled in the terrific documentary Tom Dowd & The Language of Music. The film reveals how important Dowd was to the music, and we get a behind-the-scenes look at how he created such great sounds.

In the clip above, Dowd walks us through the production of the Derek & the Dominos classic, Layla. He reveals how he adroitly cobbled the classic guitar parts together with the trademark piano solo that Dominos drummer Jim Gordon recorded three weeks later.

In a strange twist of fate, Dowd did more than produce the record for the Dominos. He introduced Eric Claptonand Duane Allman which eventually brought “Skydog” Allman into the band.
The Language of Music is a must-see right down to the DVD extras. The interviews with Clapton and Gregg Allman detail how much artists respect Dowd, and also how much they leaned on him for counsel and support.

Tom Dowd died in 2002. Fortunately, his story was recorded for posterity in The Language of Music, and most importantly, Dowd lives on through a catalog of unforgettable music.

Stills & Young: Musical Doppelgangers

Chance brought them together in Thunder Bay, Ontario, and serendipity saw them cement their partnership on Sunset Boulevard. No matter what forces caused Stephen Stills and Neil Young to unite, each man seemed to come upon his musical doppelganger. Talented guitarists and songwriters capable of crossing musical boundaries, these bandmates in Buffalo Springfield and CSNY were arguably rock’s greatest Renaissance men and both flourished together and apart.

Young’s musical diversity has been well-documented. Inside groups and as a solo act, Neil has jumped nimbly from rock to folk, country to grunge, many times over. He’s a virtuoso guitarist and piano player with a laundry list of legendary songwriting credits.

While not as chronicled, Stills has his own track record of musical dexterity. During his Springfield days, Stills wrote elegant fugues like“Bluebird” and “Questions”. In CSN, while Graham Nash fell prey to sentimentality, and David Crosby reveled in psychedelia, Stills crafted the wide-ranging “Suite Judy Blue Eyes”. When Young joined the group for Déjà Vu, Stills offered up the wondrous “Carry On”, featuring a re-versioned reprise of “Questions”. (Not to be outdone, Neil conjured the mini opus “Country Girl”).

Stills continued to prove his mettle outside the confines of CSNY. When Al Kooper needed a great blues guitarist to fill in for the drug-addledMike Bloomfield, he called on Stills to complete Super Session. Solo and with his band Manassas, Stills crossed nimbly back and forth between country, rock, folk and Latin genres. The recently-released Just Roll Tape, a collection of pre-CSN bare-bones demos Stills put together in 1968, reveals the singer, guitarist and songwriter ready to burst forth into full flower. 

Check out the embedded video of Young and Stills trading guitar licks on Neil’s “Down By the River” in 1969.

Recipe for Mountain Jam: Combine Donovan with Allmans, Mix Musically, Enjoy

Donovan Leitch certainly could craft a treacly pop song. His 1967 ditty,“There Is a Mountain” is catchy and suitable for humming. The song would fit nicely on a G-Rated soundtrack.

Once Donovan’s sugary little concoction left his hands, it grew beyond belief. Once The Allman Brothers Band appropriated the tune, it became a full-course meal, a jazz and blues tour de force to satisfy the most ravenous musical appetite.

“Mountain Jam” was a staple of Allman Brothers shows, first appearing on record in its full 33-minute glory on 1972’s landmark Eat a Peach. The track was recorded at New York’s Fillmore East in March 1971, one of the late Duane Allman’s last concert performances. Donovan’s original riffs serve to kick off and culminate the jam, but the rest is free-form Allmans featuring Duane’s high-pitched guitar wails in delicious tandem with his partner in crime, Dickie Betts. No vocals necessary, the guitars do the singing.

In the end, the Allmans took a bit of saccharine from an English folkie, and made it jam.

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