RAucklandRoll: D4

D4 with the Forty-Fives at the Magic Stick, Detroit City

January 30, 2002

D4 mouthpiece and guitarist Jimmy Christmas is fond of saying that people come out to his band’s shows because they never know just what will happen. Which is odd, because pretty much everything that happened during last Thursday’s set at Detroit’s Magic Stick was exactly that. Except for maybe Christmas’ well-fed mug, sporting the first appearance of muttonchops on a rocker since Lemmy stalked the halls of his record company.

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Stop Me if You Think You’ve Heard This One

Johnny Marr + the Healers at Chicago’s Double Door

January 28, 2003

A couple years ago I read a review in the NME of an Oasis show where the reviewer spots Johnny Marr in the crowd and notes how much Johnny now looks like Noel Gallagher, who built his own career on emulating Johnny Marr. Try to follow that because seeing Johnny Marr and the Healers is a case study in Brit rock and Marr’s role in developing a sound that has influenced so many English bands that it’s now come full circle and you’re left wondering Who Made Who?

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That’s Entertainment

Graham Greene, a 20th century author who worked in a variety of literary genres, made a distinction in classifying his work as either a “serious” work or an “entertainment.” Greene did write about serious issues in some of his novels—most notably the meaning and sustaining of faith in a world that oftentimes wracks us with existential doubt. But he also wrote stories that were meant to amuse us, to reduce the amount of ratiocination required while perusing the words on the page. I’ve always thought that this distinction between the two types of work is a good one.

Although Johnny deals with some aspects of Super Bowl XXXVII in the post below, I’d like to make a few different observations about what is evidently a testosterone-fueled event that has taken on mega-Dionysian proportions during the past few years. It is interesting to look back at Hunter Thompson’s writings on his holding forth on the scriptures while on the balcony of a Hyatt with what was perceived a large leech crawling up the back of his spine on a Super Bowl Sunday morning. The absurdity of the actual event in and of itself today is in many ways far in excess of what was then chronicled by Thompson as something that was bizarre.

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Some Final Words on Super Bowl XXXVII

Celine Dion, “God Bless America” – The woman has an extremely large, extremely froggy voice, a husband whose first job was as a deckhand on Sir Walter Raleigh’s frigate, a promotional contract with Daimler-Chrysler, and an irritating French-Canadian accent. While all of these things bother me, it’s the last two that REALLY cream my brie. I mean, did the CFL get Mariah Carey to sing “Oh, Canada” at the Gray Cup? And as Chrysler bought ad time during the Super Bowl, was there some back-end hanky panky going on to install the company’s newest spokeswoman onstage? (This paragraph is funnier when read while impersonating Dion’s stupid, pinchy-mouthed accent.)

Dixie Chicks, “The National Anthem” – These girls can sing. Natalie Maines has a distinctive voice, one which immediately stands out while your car radio scans for music. As she harmonized with her bandmates, their collective voices and the inventive arrangement made for one of the more interesting performances of the anthem in recent memory. Or at least it was better than that kid on the “American Idol” premiere.

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Les Miserables

The recent judicial ruling by a U.S. district judge that requires that Verizon gives up the name of an individual who allegedly has 600 songs on his or her hard drive that this person is said to be sharing via the ‘net is disturbing. The Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) seems to be taking is members reduced sales exceedingly seriously. And it could be interpreted that one of the consequences of its Javert-like pursuit of the individual in question could have an effect on our rights to privacy. That is: Who gets to know what we have on our own equipment in our own domiciles when the things in question were obtained legally and have no conceivable threat to the Nation?

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Paul Westerberg – Stereo/Mono

Paul Westerberg/Grandpa BoyStereo/Mono (Vagrant)

Mr. Rabbit, Mr. Rabbit

Your coat is mighty gray

Yeah, bless God it’s made that way.

Every little soul must shine

Every little soul must shine.

—Paul Westerberg – “Mr. Rabbit”

There’s always been two sides to Paul Westerberg (and The Replacements), and with this 2-cd release we get both sides in one package. The burnout philosopher and gentleman junkie of songs like “Skyway,” “Swingin’ Party” and “Androgynous,” and the screaming rabble-rouser from such fist-pumpers as “Gary’s Got A Boner,” “Bastards Of Young” and “Red Red Wine.” Now the sides are clearly split—the two discs are called Stereo (by Paul Westerberg) and Mono (by Grandpa Boy). And both sides have grown a bit wiser.

On Stereo, Westerberg works hard at grasping the brilliant, melancholy hooks he used to toss off without thinking during the glory years of The Replacements. And for the most part he succeeds, but it does seem like he’s had to go twice as far to the well and maybe didn’t bring up as much as he used to.

That’s the only bad thing I can say about this home-recorded disc full of, as the liner notes say, “tape running out, fluffed lyrics, flat notes extraneous noises, etc.” Ultimately, though, it¹s a fascinating musical document, and well worth the listen. Clunky and flawed, Westerberg makes no effort to polish the finished product and you have to love him for that. Written and recorded at home and cut live, these tracks grow on you like some kind of musical Chia Pet. You can’t enjoy them nearly as much on the first listen, but by the second or third listen they’re getting into your bloodstream.

The only exception to the above is the 11th track, “Mr. Rabbit,” which everyone should rush out and listen to right now. It’s got a first-rate pop guitar hook you will want to play to over and over again, just to hear Westerberg belt out the chorus, “Every little soul must shine.” This is perfection, and Westerberg’s best single track in years.

Mono, the Grandpa Boy (Westerberg’s alter ego) cd, is full of straight-ahead rockers, all recorded in glorious mono. It’s good stuff, bluesy and raw, and as Westerberg says in his liner notes, “This is rock ‘n roll recorded poorly, played in a hurry, with sweaty hands and unsure reason.” It is indeed, and a lot of fun to listen to. Here Westerberg reminds us why he remains rock’s holy fool, doing stupid shit that would get anybody else nailed to the wall, like mid-song tempo changes and ending songs by just stopping cold. And he has a good time doing it, too.

Taken together, these cds nicely illustrate the one-two punch of a legendary rocker who’s always been something of a musical dichotomy:­ half bittersweet poet and half anarchist rock agitator. On Stereo/Mono, the two halves seem to be closer than ever to becoming a whole.

MP3s are available from Vagrant.

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