It all started with an interview with Q magazine. The spark was only the slightly mischievous question, “How do you feel about the fact that, already, Oasis have attracted a reputation for being rock’n’roll animals?”
What followed was, possibly, the greatest train wreck interview in all history, which luckily was recorded and released by a label called “Fierce Panda” under the name Oas*s.
I really have nothing else to say. I’ll let Noel and Liam say it all. Just buy it. You need this. Some highlights:
Liam: You get into situations…
Noel: No…you think it’s rock’n’roll to get thrown off a ferry, and it’s not.
Liam: I don’t think it’s rock’n’ roll.
Noel: You fucking…that was your quote, you prick! That was your quote!
Liam: No it weren’t! No it weren’t! No it weren’t!
My favourite:
Noel: Do you know John Lennon?
Liam: Do you know him?
Noel: I don’t, but do you?
Liam: Yeah.
Noel: Well, you must be pretty old. How old are you? 21?
Liam: No. About a fucking thousand-and-five fuckin’ one.
5/5 fucking stars
Please note: “a fucking thousand-and-five fuckin’ one” is not an actual number.
RECORD STORE TALES PART 108: Building the Store, Part 2
Last time, Statham posted something about a dream he had, of us putting together our own record store. I wish I could have had the experience of opening a store without doing work! The reality of it varied. On the couple of times I helped set up a store, it was hardly glamorous.
The first time was when we opened up the first store that I managed. It was the biggest one so far, lots of stock, all crap. Junk. Shite. Basically what we did was, maybe starting six months in advance, just buy lots and lots and lots of stock. Before long we had, I dunno, maybe 5000 discs, all garbage. Dozens of Jann Arden, Spin Doctors, Michael Bolton…I had so much Michael Bolton that he took up three fucking rows! I even had rare Michael Bolton. Nobody had rare Michael Bolton! Nobody wanted rare Michael Bolton! Then you’d go to the Metallica section, nothing. Kiss, a couple copies of Kiss My Ass. And we had soooo much country. We had buckets of country. And rap artists that you nor I have ever heard of.
Waltz back over to the rock section and browse the classics. Did we have any Floyd? Nothing. Led Zeppelin? Just the tribute album, Encomium. Meat Loaf? Bat 2, but not Bat. We had a couple of Rush discs, like Counterparts, but nothing from the 70’s. No Maiden. No Miles. No Dylan. No Hendrix.
We had no standardized pricing scheme back then. So, if I was pricing Eric Clapton’s Unplugged at $9.99, the guy next to me might have priced it at $11.99 because maybe he liked it more. It was very subjective. Sometimes you knew what a CD was worth brand new and based it on that, sometimes it was so common that it didn’t matter, and sometimes nobody had a fucking clue. We’d try to fix the pricing it as we went, but it was slow. After we opened, a customer would come up with three copies of the same album. “This one is $8.99, this one $9.99, and this one $11.99. Is that because one is more scratched?” Logical question! But no, we just cocked up.
It took weeks to manually input and price all those discs. Shelving them took a couple more days. Making the header cards, setting things up, all told we were at it for maybe a month. Then the big day came and we did our opening. We were only half-equipped: there was no second computer yet, and only half of our CD players for listening station had been bought. Signs were still arriving to be put up.
I’ll never forget our sign that showed up that said, “WE PAY CSAH FOR YOUR USED CDS!”
Regardless of how crappy the stock was, it sold! I couldn’t believe it! There were only a few decent albums and I figured once they were gone, that was it. That wasn’t the case at all. People kept buying the old rap and country discs. Tanya Tucker? Check! We had lots! And people were buying it!
Then, used stuff started coming in at a rapid pace. Crazy stuff too. I remember this one huge Tangerine Dream box set coming in, on the Thursday of the first week.
After we opened and good stuff started coming in by the box full, all the hard work seemed like it was paying off. But the setting up was long and tedious, and I couldn’t stand Todd, who was also on setup duty. But who gives a crap? I spent weeks doing nothing but data entry while listening to music (our own music, which we brought in – of course). I rocked a lot of Deep Purple those weeks. It was awesome.
I remember that I had just found two Purple albums that I wanted: Concerto For Group and Orchestra, and King Biscuit Flower Hour. I also rocked Purpendicular, which had just come out, as much as I could. Todd didn’t understand the music at all. All he was interested in listening to was Floyd, nothing else. He played Bush once or twice, but otherwise it was all Floyd. He really, really liked P.U.L.S.E. And he just murdered Floyd for me, for a long time.
When I listen to albums like Concerto and Purpendicular, it brings me right back to doing data entry in that store. Not a bad soundtrack to work to.
Hey folks, Statham here. You’re looking good. Now, sit down and let me tell you a story, it’s a good one.
Last night, I had a dream. One I think you need to hear about, in the context of Mike’s blog. You see, I dreamt that Mike and I opened a record store together. It seems, for the convenience of making things happen, that I had won the lottery again. (I say again because, c’mon, it’s like having won the lottery just being fortunate enough to be me every day of the week). Anyway. The oodles of money secured the financial end of things, thus freeing us up to be creative in the endeavour.
There were a lot of naysayers. Oh boohoo, physical media is dying (if not dead), this would have been great 15 years ago, blah blah blah. Yeah well, alot people would shoot down anything anyone else wanted to do because they are lazy, needy, selfish and generally dumb. If it had been them in our shoes, they’d want us to be gushing with praise for their initiative, and they’d want us to be giving them doggie treats for being so good and clever. Anyway, we didn’t listen to any of these peoples’ negativity and they soon went away. Relief!
To his credit, Mike was onboard right away. Somehow he was still working his current job too, but also able to be at the shop all the time. Now, we all know Mike is amazing, but he really was breaking the laws of physics, here. Ah, dream-time. It makes no sense, but is the more awesome for it.
So. Being of means, we found that the organization, construction and founding of the shop was just a matter of planning and patience, but it went together very quickly. I have no idea what town we were in when all this was happening, but it hardly matters. Somehow, when the contractors were done, not only was the shop beautiful, bright and spacious, but all the shelves were jammed full of well-organized and thoughtfully chosen CDs, DVDs and games, too. I tell you, I’d really recommend those contractors to you. They were very thorough.
It wasn’t long before our doors were open, and business really started to take off. With Mike’s knowledge and my enthusiasm, it turned out to be a really worthwhile venture. People responded well to our humour, easy-going sales patter that wasn’t like sales-talk at all and, of course, our dashing good looks. It was a winner.
I don’t have a whole lot of specifics for you, just this sense I had that it was a good thing. And that’s all I remember of that dream, in a nutshell.
ANALYSIS:
Well, clearly, all of Mike’s Record Store Tales have entered into my subconscious and activated the part of my brain that has always believed I’d like to work in a record store. Not the one Mike used to work for, from the sounds of it (even though at one point I did apply there), but still. I’ve spent enough time in record shops, so it seemed a natural enough thing to do.
And Freud would probably say this was somehow about my penis. Because everyone dreams about that, surely.
To be continued…
If you haven’t figured it out from past Statham stories, he’s Snake Eyes. I’m the Crimson Guard.
MOTLEY CRUE – Theater Of Pain (1985, 2003 Motley Records remastered edition)
Crue’s third was a mess, a smokey muddy mess of an album that served only to confuse and disappoint those who were enthralled with Shout at the Devil. The Crue, now wearing ridiculous striped (stryped?) jester suits had dropped the chromium metallic sheen of Shout, and replaced it with nothing but a notable lack of direction.
Theatre of Pain was one of the most anticipated albums of the ’85, and one of the most biggest disappointments. Yes, “Smokin’ In The Boys Room” is a fun jokey novelty, but it is also a novelty cover. “Home Sweet Home”, billed by the band as their “Dream On”, is not really. Broken down, it is a cliche-ridden proto-ballad, the type of thing that every L.A. band has done at least once. And usually, better. I mean, think about it — you can name better ballads by Bon Jovi or Cinderalla, can’t you? I can.
There is precious little metal on this album, the terrible “Use It or Lose It” being the only foot on the gas pedal, but itself also being nothing more than a grade C song worthy of most bands’ album outtakes. There is absolutely nothing on this album that would have made the cut on the great Shout at the Devil. Even a track like “Louder Than Hell”, one of the better songs, was demoed for Shout and dropped; the band obviously lowered their standards.
The mix is muddy, an alcoholidaze of robotic drumming and lifeless, uninspired vocals. You can hear the wasted band barely trying. Or, rather, trying as hard as they were capable given the chemicals. If a major band released this today as the followup to a beloved classic, it would be a career-ender. Not so with the Crue, as the 80’s were much kinder.
Bonus tracks on the remastered edition are laughable. Did we really need three versions of “Home Sweet Home”? The vaults must be a lonely place indeed. Tommy’s sleepy “drum piece” is worthy only of the skip button.No standout songs, terrible mix, and dull performances aside, the one guy who swims to the top is Mick Mars, who plays several solos that rise above.
1.5/5 stars
1. City Boy Blues
2. Smokin’ in the Boys’ Room
3. Louder Than Hell
4. Keep Your Eye on the Money
5. Home Sweet Home
6. Tonight (We Need a Lover)
7. Use It or Lose It
8. Save Our Souls
9. Raise Your Hands to Rock
10. Fight for Your Rights
11. Home Sweet Home [Demo Version]
12. Smokin’ in the Boys’ Room [Alternate Guitar Solo-Rough Mix
In general, I hate covers albums. I remember spendling something like $25 on an Yngwie Malmsteen covers album a long time ago. I came out of that experience $25 lighter for an album I’ll never listen to again. I swore I’d never buy another covers album by a metal band unless I knew I wouldn’t be wasting my money.
Then I started reading about Stryper’s covers album. Stryper? A covers album??
But I was reading good things. Then finally the trusted Tommy Rose posted his Amazon review, and I ordered the album that night. Sold!
The Covering is a damn fine slice of metal, my friends. The cynical must remember that Stryper neither fit in with mainstream Christian rock, nor the mainstream of metal. They have always been outsiders and a lot of their cringe-inducing 80’s music (I’m looking at you, In God We Trust) was due to record company pressure and outside producers. At their hearts, they’ve always been headbanging heavy metal loving Christians, and The Covering proves it.
Featuring the entire classic lineup (Michael Sweet, Robert Sweet, Tim Gaines, Oz Fox) for the first time in ages, The Covering is the Stryper album to get even the most hardened cynic back into the band. Not that this is the first time, I think Reborn was a damn fine record (check out “Passion”). This however is Stryper at their most accessible and pummeling.
It’s next to impossible to pick favourites, because so many of these songs are ingrained into our collective minds. I found “Breaking The Law” to be absolutely great fun! Stryper’s style and Priest’s style mesh well. Less successful was “Highway Star”. Stryper’s angular, blocky playing doesn’t really complement our memories of Blackmore’s smooth riffing. However a nice fat organ playing Jon Lord’s original arrangement keeps the song from straying too far.
“Blackout” (Scorpions) was interesting because Michael Sweet’s enunciation echoed Klaus Meine’s ever so slightly without becoming parody. I can only surmise that this is due to Sweet knowing that song inside and out, backwards and forwards. “Over the Mountain” (Ozzy Osbourne) was another highlight, as Stryper just nail that Randy Rhoads riff and keep pummeling. “On Fire” (Van Halen) was a pleasant surprise. Oz Fox plays Eddie’s harmonics perfectly, proving he’s got the goods. Not to mention Sweet can hit David Lee Roth’s screams without trouble. (Also without the grit, but that can’t be helped, nobody has David Lee Roth’s grit.) And of course who else could sing Robert Plant’s part on “Immigrant Song”? “Immigrant Song” also features Tim Gaines playing John Paul Jones’ bouncy bass part just perfectly. I’m not too keen on the production in spots, but all I need to do is hear Gaines playing that bass line and I’m back on board!
I can honestly say that, for me, there are only two lowlights to this album. I’ve never been a fan of “Set Me Free” (Sweet) and “Carry On Wayward Son” (Kansas). Yngwie covered “Wayward Son” on his covers album if I remember correctly, and I’ve just never been a fan. “Set Me Free” is one I’ve been sick of for a long time, after hearing numerous covers from Vince Neil and Helix over the years.
Finally, we have the new original Stryper song “God”. Stryper have always felt like they have not been taken seriously as Christians because they have recorded secular music, but “God” is as blatant as it gets. Not to mention it is an absolute ball-crusher. If you don’t know it’s coming next, your first thought as a listener is, “What classic riff are they covering here?” But it’s not a classic riff — it is their own original one, and it’s a great riff to complement this great song. The vocal harmonies soar and hopefully this is a harbinger of what Stryper have in store down the line. The solos are also to die for.
The packaging for this album is great, in digipack, and featuring page after page of comic book artwork.
If you have never bought a Stryper album before, or if you haven’t checked out the band in years, this is the album to get your juices flowing again. Pick it up. Although it is a covers album, it was one of my favourites of 2011.
TRIUMPH – Live At Sweden Rock Festival (2012 CD/DVD, Universal)
In 2008, after over 20 years apart, Rik Emmett joined Mike Levine and Gil Moore on stage. The original Triumph was back, as if time stood still. All that animosity, gone, poof! and in its place is a stellar live album.
They only played that one gig, but at least it was smokin’. What’s incredible is that Rik Emmett retains most of his range, even if Gil Moore’s is more limited. It was always Rik that sang the high parts, and most singers just can’t do it 20 years later. Rik can! And of course I don’t need to tell you anything about his guitar playing. Some consider him to the be the greatest that Canada ever produced, and his playful but solid axework here helps to show why.
He even throws a bit of the “Hocus Pocus” (by Focus!) riff in the middle of “Rock & Roll Machine”! Rik hasn’t forgotten to rock, and as usual Triumph is backed up by a second guitar player (Dave Dunlop) for some extra heaviness to the riffs.
But Rik also plays a lot of licks that are more along the lines of the jazz stuff he does today, a great mixture of his old style and his modern style. Gil and Mike are still Gil and Mike, they’ve barely changed at all. Their playing is as good as they’ve ever been. I wonder how much the band rehearsed for this show? They sound as tight as they did on Stages. (Mike says they practiced a lot!)
Setlist is below. Let me point out two things: No ballads! The closest you get is “Magic Power”. Second…”Blinding Light Show”! ‘Nuff said!
1. When The Lights Go Down
2. Lay It On The Line
3. Allied Forces
4. Never Surrender
5. I Live For The Weekend
6. Blinding Light Show / Moon Child
7. Rocky Mountain Way
8. Magic Power
9. Rock & Roll Machine
10. Fight The Good Fight
The included DVD duplicates the show, but for your eyes and ears! There’s also some cool behind the scenes footage (fans, soundchecks, etc.) and a press conference. Basically, everything you’d want out of a package like this.
I don’t want to understate how much I like this album. Prior to this, my favourite Triumph album was always Stages, their first live album from 1985. Live At Sweden Rock is now my #2 Triumph album. No overdubs, no fixes, this is just pure live Triumph, all killer no filler (or ballads), and they are as good as they ever were, I swear to God.
NOTE: I do not actually have a favourite aunt! But there is one that we CALL “my favourite aunt”! I love both my aunts equally.
Christmas Eve. The year is now forgotten.
I always worked Christmas Eve. It was usually a fun day, people were usually in good spirits. There’d be the odd disgruntled shopper who was upset that you were sold out of Shania. Most people were pretty cool and didn’t want to act like a jerk at Christmas to a stranger.
It was getting close to the end of the day. Everything had gone pretty well. I was dressed up in suit and tie. I always did, on Christmas Eve. It was a tradition my boss had started, but I was the only one who carried on with it. (The only thing that bugged me: He made me wear my big, ugly store tag with my suit and tie. This thing was huge, like the size of a post card, laminated, hanging from a string around my neck. The idea was, how were people to know that you worked here if you weren’t wearing your tag? Well, hell, maybe the guy wearing the suit and tie behind the counter knows?)
I was tired, but my Favourite Aunt from Calgary was coming to town! I’ve written about her in past chapters. I only get to see her about twice a year, but it was always nice to have her around at Christmas. It didn’t happen every year.
The previous evening, the 23rd, had been marred by a last-minute crackhead woman trying to sell us a garbage bag full of crap CDs at closing time. By comparison the 24th was a cakewalk. Until 5:00.
An hour before closing, I got a phone call from a calm sounding but clearly upset woman. I can’t remember the scenario anymore. All I can remember is that it was a no-win situation. We’d messed something up that couldn’t be fixed. We probably promised to hold something for her that was clearly gone. I can remember that it was for her son, whatever the missing item was.
I apologized, I tried to explain how something like this might have happened, but my apology was not going to be enough.
“That’s not a satisfactory answer,” she said. “You’re going to have to make this right.”
I was tired and there was an hour until closing…and now this. Jesus Christ!
Suddenly, a giggle…a snicker…a laugh.
The woman on the other end of the phone goes, “Michael. Don’t you know who this is?”
I didn’t know whether to be relieved or pissed off! It was Aunt Lynda. My Favourite Aunt.
“You handled that very well,” she added helpfully.
“Thanks a lot!” I said. “I nearly had a heart attack!”
“Oh you’re welcome,” she said, and giggled again. Aww hell, it was nice she was back in town. And it was also nice I wasn’t in shit. If something like that had happened an hour before closing on Christmas Eve for real, that would have haunted me all Christmas, I swear to God.
So, to my Aunt Lynda, who is actually in town again this week, this one goes out to you! It’s good to see you again!
I slept in. For me, sleeping in meant waking up at 7:30 instead of 5:30. I didn’t have to go to work in the morning; I was working the afternoon. Instead, I had an oil change booked for my car. My dad and I headed out early, had a coffee at Mr. Lube, got the oil changed, and headed back home.
When we got home, my mom was watching the news. “An airplane just crashed into the World Trade Center!” she said.
“What, like an accident?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “They haven’t said. But it was a big plane. A passenger plane.”
The second plane collided around this time, because when we all got to the TV, both towers were burning. We just sat there, watching events unfold in shock.
I phoned up Matty K, who was working the morning shift at our store. He was cut off from the outside world, as he didn’t have TV, radio or internet at the store. I let him know what was going on. He had not heard about it yet. I kept him posted throughout the morning any time there was significant news.
I went into work at 1 in the afternoon. It was all anybody wanted to talk about, customers and staff, understandably so. Everybody was freaked out, especially when it became obvious that this was a well coordinated attack. Some were scared, some were concerned for family members traveling, but most of us were just freaked right out.
It was a weird day to work, and the store was pretty dead that afternoon as everyone stayed home to watch the news. In the end, we all just wanted to go home and do the same thing.
We couldn’t just go home and watch the news. There was a meeting scheduled that night at 9:30 pm, that store managers had to attend. None of us really wanted to be there, but it was decided not to cancel the meeting, even though our minds were anywhere else but work. Our thoughts were with the lost, the survivors, the families, and trying to make sense out of those tragic events.
It is difficult to recall a better debut album than this 1976 masterpiece by the four-headed enigma known as Max Webster. Kim Mitchell (vocals/guitars), Mike Tilka (bass), Terry Watkinson (keys) and short-tenured drummer Paul Kersey, along with lyricist Pye Dubois, seemingly emerged fully-formed with this immortal classic. Right from the feedback kicking off “Hangover”, this album feels like it was custom designed for awesome sauce.
When I first heard it, I recall finding the album artwork mildly disturbing and the music jittery and off-putting. That was first listen. Then, Trevor bought it (and numerous others) for me for my birthday one year. THANKS T-REV!
It only took two more listens to appreciate this album for what it is: A paradoxically funny yet progressive masterpiece that runs the gamut from bizarre to blues to rock to country to campfire,with poetic lyrics to match. From the seemingly out-of-control “Hangover” to the mournful “Lily”, this album really does have it all.
Of note: This album was produced with Terry Brown, who helmed many Rush classics.
Like Frank Zappa’s bastard children, Max Webster emerged from Sarnia Ontario, perplexing and rocking audiences from coast to coast. Despite the diversity in sounds and challenging arrangements, this band was not short on melody and managed to create catchy songs out of the most absurd material, such as “Toronto Tontos”. Yet this is balanced by songs like the groovy “Here Among the Cats”. Regardless, it’s impossible to get either song out of your head. Mitchell’s soloing on “Here Among the Cats” is stunning, by the way.
You can’t understate how important, groundbreaking, and fantastic this album is. Just listen to the upbeat “Blowing The Blues Away”, or “Only Your Nose Knows” for a taste of the best music that Canada has ever put up for offer. “Summer’s Up”…”Coming Off the Moon”…not a bad song in the bunch. I understand that there are deluxe Max editions available now. I think I might pick one up and see how they are.
I think I’ll start with Max Webster! (Note: Don’t tell Mrs. LeBrain, but I did order it from Amazon a few moments ago.)
This review is because of Rob Vuckovich, whom I like to describe as “one of the Jedi Masters who instructed me”. Vuckovich complained that I rate everything so high. That’s because, in general, I tend to write about things I like. However just for Rob, I dug up an album that I hate. Here you go.
DEF LEPPARD – X (Japanese import, 2002)
This was the lowest point for Def Lep. Writing with Max “Backstreet Boys” Martin? Screw that, man. The only sounds on this album that wasn’t filtered through a computer was the sound of Steve Clark rolling in his grave.
I mean, damn. Listen to “Unbelievable”. See what I mean? That’s pop radio crapola written by not one, not two, but three pop uber-writers.
“Now” isn’t bad; it has some guitar on it, but what’s with the programmed opening? What’s with these drum machines? Why such a slow tempo and wimpy chorus? The best song is called “Torn to Shreds”, but even that’s a power ballad.
“Long Long Way To Go” has some nice acoustic work (and there’s a superior acoustic version on the Japanese import), but it’s otherwise one of the wimpiest songs in this band’s tarnished history. Know why? It too was written entirely by outside writers.
The Japanese import also has another bonus track, “Kiss the Day”, another slow and wimpy pseudo-rocker. While not a bonus track per se, the official website used to offer a song called “Perfect Girl”, which is a better demo of “Gravity”.
mikeladano.com