Music Review

Hats Off To Tim Berne!

Gary Lucas — Wed, 16 Oct 2024 14:22:45 +0000

Hats Off To Tim Berne! Gary Lucas October 16, 2024 - 10:22

Topics

Tags

So proud of Tim Berne getting his due again in the New York Times with this new article.

I grew up friends with Tim and his entire family in Syracuse, and in 1985 got him signed to Columbia Records. They were looking for "New Age" music (haha), which is how I got him in the door.

I played the head of Columbia Records A&R department the intro to the first cut of an indie duo album Tim had recently put out with Bill Frisell as his sparring partner, which opened with a minute or so of languid acoustic guitar jazz chords in the clear (which sounded vaguely New Age-y).

The A&R guy started kibitzing, waiting for Tim to come in, hovering over the turntable in his office and chanting in a low whisper:

"Come on, Tim, Blow! Blow Baby, Blow!!"

Suddenly, after all this Frisell acoustic guitar loveliness, Tim comes in with a single wailing note--a cracked, strangulated, Ornette-ish cri de coeur.

The A&R guy winced--but gave me a budget--the princely sum of 5000 Iron Men, all-in, to record this album (oy!). But Tim had his foot in the door, and we were off.

This windfall enabled Tim to leave his day job at the late Tower Records on West 4th and Broadway, where many excellent musicians toiled in the vinyl vineyards trying to eke out a living in the greater New York area.

Tim turned in a spectacular album to Columbia titled Fulton Street Maul. It was recorded at Chick Corea's Mad Hatter Studios in LA, with Bill Frisell on guitar, Hank Roberts on cello, and Alex Cline on percussion.

I was the nominal producer, and my main contribution was instructing Nels Cline (who did the hands-on engineering/mic placement/mixing) to "Turn Up Frisell!" when we started mixing.

And also, writing the liner notes--a gallimaufry of surrealist stream o' consciousness pitter patter that opened with something like "Inside the glass, smoked...")--which was me trying to depict the experience of sitting inside the recording booth chain-smoking joints while peering out through the glass wall that looked onto the studio where all this phenomenal music was being created. The marketing guy read this as a reference to crack pipes (!) and tried to deep-six my liner notes.

As noted in this article, the album received terrific notice, with Jon Pareles giving it a rave review in The New York Times.

But did it click with the New Age audience?

'Fraid not--there being lots and lots of outside playing and usage of tritones ("The Devil's Interval") aplenty all over the album. Very strong and melodic heads, though--and then, psychedelic jazz-rock insanity.

Me? I thought it was the most exciting music I'd ever been involved with since my days playing with Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band.

HATS OFF TO TIM BERNE!

Add new comment

Song of the Week: "Night Terror"

Ian Alterman — Sun, 13 Oct 2024 19:02:02 +0000

Song of the Week: "Night Terror" Ian Alterman October 13, 2024 - 15:02

Topics

Music Review

Tags

prog rock

He's ba-a-a-ack! In 2010, Dream Theater drummer and songwriter Mike Portnoy took a hiatus from the band, which he had helped found in 1985, for an unspecified period. Portnoy had long been considered one of the, if not the, greatest progressive metal drummers in the world (he also played in the progressive supergroup, Transatlantic, as well as almost every group and album produced by neo-progressive godfather, Neal Morse). He was replaced during his hiatus by Mike Mangini, who some feel is as good as or better than Portnoy (it is hard to tell in the world of drummers who use two bass drums and drum kits with 7,000 pieces…lol…but I prefer Portnoy's style over Mangini's).

The band released five albums during Mangini's time, though he was not involved in the actual writing process, as Portnoy had been. Still, at least one of those albums is among their top ten (and would make an excellent first-time-ever progressive rock Broadway musical).

Last year, Dream Theater announced that Portnoy would be returning and that a new album and tour would be quickly forthcoming. They weren't kidding. The tour is already set, beginning next week in London, starting in the U.S. in February 2025, and ending on March 2, 2025, at NYC's Radio City Music Hall. The album, tentatively titled Parasomnia, is due out early in 2025.

However, the band has just dropped the first track from the album, called "Night Terror," and they are in super-fine form. Filmed in a spooky house with each member in a different room, it is a perfect reintroduction of the original line-up of what is arguably the most influential progressive metal band other than Rush. Each member of the band is in fine form (guitarist John Petrucci in particular). And, of course, Portnoy is nothing short of amazing.

If the remainder of the album is anywhere near as good as this track, it is going to be a monster.

Add new comment

Bobby and Gary

Gary Lucas — Sat, 14 Sep 2024 12:53:56 +0000

Bobby and Gary Gary Lucas September 14, 2024 - 08:53

Topics

Music Review

Tags

Grateful Dead

Rob Wasserman and Bob Weir

Some years ago (June 8th, 1999, OK), I played solo at the Bell Atlantic Jazz Festival, an event organized by the Knitting Factory NYC, down at the South Street Seaport. My tent was right next to Bob Weir's, who was with his trio (bassist Rob Wasserman and drummer Jay Lane).

While waiting to go on, my roadie, Bob Jacobson, went next door of his own volition and wangled an invitation from gracious Bob for me to sit in with him during his set on National Steel.

I went into Bob's tent to meet him. He was chilling, sitting there with a lady friend, sipping wine and looking very mellow and casual.

We talked a little about Beefheart. I told him I had my 1921 National steel with me, and he said, "Oh, bring that!"

Then he looked at me intently and said: "Do you know 'Friend of the Devil'"?

Hell, yes!

I know lots of 'em...

As the sun was setting, I joined his band onstage at the appointed time, and Bobby called a tune.

The problem is that he and his band were all going directly into the board—no onstage amplifiers—and all were wearing in-ear monitors—all except for me.

Meaning when they started playing, there was pretty much zero sound onstage, as there were no onstage monitors. The band all had a perfectly great mix going on in their ears. All that I could hear from where I sat was the vague plinkety-plunk of electric instruments being fingered and plucked on dead unresonant strings, keyboard keys being poked soundlessly, and drums being thumped dully, with a vapor trail of vocals hanging over the seemingly bloodless disembodied, some might say funereal proceedings.

All of the mighty band's music was projected directly at the large crowd, pumping out of the PA speakers which were, of course, in front of us, the band. The stage sound was non-existent, if not atrocious.

I had to twist in my chair and strain to hear what damn key the song was in! I grabbed onto what I thought were the relative chords and hung on for dear life, picking and grinning and sliding my glass bottleneck with all my might up and down the neck, praying I was in the right key. I got through it ok with no apparent gaffes—PHEW!!

The audience cheered at the end. I got up to leave—and amiable Bob called after me:

"Hey, man! Where you goin'?? Come on back here!!"

Which I did.

And I played four more songs with him, somehow…

The moral being—You Gotta Fake It 'Til You Make It 😄

For weeks, I felt some reverberations in NYC stemming from this guest spot with Bob.

I'd be walking down Houston Street in front of the Knitting Factory, and a random street freak across the road would holler after me and punch his fist in the air:

"HEY DUUUDE! BOB WEAHHHHHH!!"

Add new comment

playing w/ bobby weir trio in '99

i was at this show. great story!... bobby was 'chilling w a lady friend' and asked if you knew friend of the devil... can't beat that! and here's the setlist memorialized at ratdog.org for your viewing pleasure.... best, gh https://ratdog.org/setlists/1999

Add new comment

How German Is It

Gary Lucas — Wed, 11 Sep 2024 13:04:11 +0000

How German Is It Gary Lucas September 11, 2024 - 09:04

Topics

Music Review

Tags

Kraftwerk

A SAUCERFUL OF SECRETS: Nicked saucer from a TEE train on a journey from Paris to Amsterdam in 1978

KRAFTWERKEN: I first heard the industrial strength anthem "Trans-Europe Express" wafting over the PA before Iggy Pop went on (with David Bowie on piano) at the Berkeley Community Theater on April 17th, 1977. What a revolutionary year that was for new music—esp. Punk and Reggae—but this was SOMETHING ELSE: an earworm-doomy, Germanic, hypnotic; what WAS that?? The clickety-clack propulsive percussion drives it along like a stagecoach to Valhalla, and the Wagnerian arpeggiated stacked minor key chords give it an iconic, endless feel (like announcing a—gulp—Neu Thousand Year Reich). These guys are volk-artist Pioneers of Ingolstadt—pace Fassbinder—harbinger heralds of a Brave New Welt. "And looking very relaxed, Arthur Schopenhauer and Friederich Nietzsche on vibes":

A few months later, my first wife, Ling Ling Kee, and I had relocated from SF to the greener pastures of NYC, specifically the West Village, and were up in Central Park grazing in the grass.

Suddenly, a squadron of young black kids on bicycles came tearing down the drive that snakes through the park, BLASTING this track on boomboxes slung over their bikes' handlebars. There was that song again!!

Later that afternoon, I visited the cool Discorama Record Store on Bleecker Street between 6th and 7th Ave. down the road from where we were sub-letting and scored a vinyl copy of Kraftwerk's Trans-Europe Express album on Capitol as a cut-out for a mere $1.97! I was in heaven--and that album quickly became part of our soundtrack of Summer '77 (along with the first Clash album on import, the first Modern Lovers album, the first two Ramones albums, the Live at CBGB's double album with Mink Deville, Talking Heads '77, Jonathan Richman's first two solo albums, etc).

Flash forward to 1989, and I'm on tour in Germany, culminating right around Xmas with three nights solo at East Berlin industrial concrete squat the Tacheles (freezing! They had to heat it with hoses that spewed pre-heated plumes of air). The audience looked like the zombies from Night of the Living Dead, all bundled up from the cold but comatose, and they seemingly did not move a muscle while I played.

Finishing my engagement, I took the Deutsche Bahnhof train from Berlin to the Central Station in Amsterdam to play a concert at the Patronaat Haarlem—a journey of about 8 hours across Germany into the Netherlands. I whiled away the time reading and playing chess on a magnetic board with a young German while the scenic landscape rolled by. Arriving in Amsterdam, I took a cab directly to the club, set up, and waited to go on.

When I finally hit the stage at about 11 pm, I opened with a solo guitar version of "TEE," which I'd figured out in the dressing room—and segued into my version of "Autobahn."

I was exhausted but played my heart out for the Dutch fans.

Sheer bliss…

Add new comment

McGuinn Takes Us On a Trip Upon His Magic Swirling Ship

Jon Geffner — Mon, 02 Sep 2024 19:51:01 +0000

McGuinn Takes Us On a Trip Upon His Magic Swirling Ship Jon Geffner September 2, 2024 - 15:51

Topics

Music Review

Tags

folk rock

Roger McGinn

Space at Westbury, NY

I knew going into Roger McGinn’s show at the Space at Westbury that McGuinn was a great singer/songwriter and virtuoso guitarist but I found out that night that the was something else as well—a masterful raconteur. His show was more of a one-man show than a concert in the traditional sense. Similarly to Bruce Springsteen’s Broadway residency, it was an oral history of his life and times with his iconic songs interspersed more or less chronologically to fit the narrative. He gave the audience insight into his influences and his songwriting process and regaled us with amusing anecdotes of those he encountered along the way—Bob Dylan, George Harrison, Pete Seeger (of whom he did a hilarious impression), Bobby Darin, Tom Petty, Peter Fonda, and of course his Byrds bandmates David Crosby, Gene Clark, and Chris Hillman. And, natch, the songs were glorious: "Mr. Tambourine Man," "Turn! Turn! Turn!," "Mr. Spaceman," "Eight Miles High" (a real guitar de force), "Ballad of Easy Rider," "Chestnut Mare," and more.

The songs were performed solo with all of the great guitar arrangements—on acoustic guitar, banjo, and of course the famous Rickenbacker—that we have come to know and love. It was amazing how McGuinn filled the room with sound. He is not so much a solo performer as a one-man band. At 82, Roger McGuinn is at the top of his game. Sometimes when one goes to see a legend in concert it can be like seeing a dusty old museum piece. And, with the stage set-up, with the guitars lined up and the plants, it looked as though that could be the case with McGuinn. It was anything but. McGuinn is no mere legend. He’s an American icon. If his tour brings him anywhere near your town, I highly recommend that you go and see him. You’re welcome.

Add new comment

Roger McGuinn

I have been listening to Roger's and the Byrds' music since I heard them as a 12 year old in 1965. Turn! Turn! Turn! captured me and remains my favorite recording of all time. I saw Roger's show twice this year in Saratoga, CA and Torrance, CA and could barely contain myself. His effortless guitar playing without the drama of a Neil Young performance is simply a treat for the ears, heart, and soul. Those of us from that '60's era still marvel at the quality of their music. And we continue listening because there's been nothing better since. At 82, he's lost nothing of his skillset and will not disappoint. His wife, Camilla, who sells CDs at intermission and after the show is also such a warm and generous person. See him absolutely, if you have the chance. Legends like Roger are rare and someday he may actually think about retiring!

Add new comment

The Wagner Group

Gary Lucas — Mon, 26 Aug 2024 12:55:17 +0000

The Wagner Group Gary Lucas August 26, 2024 - 08:55

Topics

Music Review

Tags

classical

The thing about Richard Wagner (1813-1883), whose music I have frequently arranged for solo guitar—he WAS a heinous anti-semite. And he wrote a particularly atrocious screed, "Judaism in Music," an attack on what he viewed as the mongrelization of "pure" classical music by inferior Jewish composers (my kind of guys!).

Still—Wagner's music qua music is so divinely inspired—and so sensually listenable (forget the dumbass librettos)—that he attracted plenty of Jewish enablers in his lifetime and plenty of Jewish adherents over the years who "should have known better" (including the father of Zionism Theodore Herzl, who wrote his book The Jewish State while listening to "Tannhäuser" every night that he worked on it). Plenty of Wagnerian nay-sayers over the years, too, of course, including George Bernard Shaw's 1898 attack on the Ring Cycle, The Perfect Wagnerite.

I grew up hearing a lot of Wagner's famous leitmotifs in things like Popeye cartoons (1934's "Shiver Me Timbers" contains a quote from "The Flying Dutchman").

But I really fell under the spell of Wagner thoroughly in 1977 after obtaining a boxed set of his Complete Orchestral Music from CBS Masterworks, which I occasionally wrote copy for—a box that contained "Entry of the Gods into Valhalla" from Das Rheingold.

This music so enchanted me (especially when zonked, which is what I had to do in Excelsis Deo just to get through a typical day—Good or Bad—at Black Rock on West 52nd St.)--music that so thrilled me, lying on my back on the carpet in a half-daze with my head between the speakers—that I recall thinking:

"If I die right now at this precise moment, I will not have had a more transcendental experience in my entire lifetime than listening to this heavenly music."

Which is obviously what Wagner's music was designed to do.

Anyway, despite a ban on Wagner in Israel for years (which I broke—shhhh!—when I played my live score co-written with Walter Horn accompanying the 1920 German Expressionist horror classic The Golem at the Next Festival in Tel Aviv in Spring of '99—a score which contains a quote from "Ride of the Valkyries")—plenty of Jewish folks love them some Wagner!!

Case in point—Larry David, who scandalizes a pious Jew by humming the "Siegfried Idyll" to Cheryl Hines while in line for a movie (and what the heck is SHE doing with RFK Jr.??)

Curb Your Enthusiasm: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A5yPuiJHlYo

All this is to say that after arranging a whole lot of Wagner for solo guitar over my career. "To defeat thine enemy, sing his song" was how I put it in the liner notes to my Tzadik album Street of Lost Brothers—my pal, the brilliant producer/conceptualist Sandy Pearlman (Blue Oyster Cult, The Dictators, The Clash) engaged my services to arrange the 4th movement of Bruckner's 8th Symphony for solo electric guitar, for a class he was teaching at McGill University's Schulich School of Music entitled Bruckner as Heavy Metal: From Chord Power to Power Chord.

BRUCKNER—not Wagner??

Well, Sandy was a diabolical contrarian...

So, anyway, I allowed myself to get lassoed into arranging this movement using the live recording below, an air check off Austrian radio on Oct. 17th, 1944, of the Vienna Philharmonic at the Musikverein conducted by the legendary Wilhelm Furtwängler, provided by Sandy as a template.

According to Sandy, this recording was made right when the Allies were at the Gates of Wien—and if you listened closely, you could hear the incoming cannonades. I'm not sure about that (I can't hear 'em, and I have pretty good ears).

Nevertheless, please do enjoy this (slightly truncated) Final Movement of Bruckner's 4th Symphony—and you be the judge.

Add new comment

Desperately Seeking Sue Kahn

Robert Cochrane — Fri, 09 Aug 2024 10:34:15 +0000

Desperately Seeking Sue Kahn Robert Cochrane August 9, 2024 - 06:34

Topics

Music Review

Tags

folk

A Quest For A Face.

1963 was a good year for New York folkie Sue Kahn. The recent graduate from New York College of Music was performing in the coffee houses of the Big Apple, having also secured the prestigious gig of a resident folk singer at Grossinger's, the Jewish holiday complex in the Catskills. A radio interview she undertook that summer with Al Wasser on Radio New York Folk Music Worldwide survives. It reveals a young woman brimming with ideas and passion. In it, she talks about her album appearing the following year, her influences, and her plans regarding a music career.

Resident at 29 Woodmere Boulevard, Woodmere, a building that still stands, Sue Kahn was going places, but quite where we no longer know. The anticipated album failed to appear, evidence of her career exists solely in that radio interview, and no photograph puts a face to her brief ambitions. Still, there is the beguiling existence of seventeen recorded songs. These stretch across three acetate discs, two 12 and one 10-inch.

They appeared on eBay about a decade ago, each listed individually at an opening bid of $2.99, stating simply Sue Kahn. Folk Singer. Acetate. Curious, I googled her, discovering zilch. Placing three $20 tries, I was surprised to find an invoice for $8.97, the postage to the UK dwarfing their lowly purchase cost. When played, there emerged a trained, pure voice with guitar, her vocals occasionally a little too neat for the folk genre, but the songs have a distinctive professionalism, a period charm, her guitar playing is pretty nifty, too.

There's a Russian folk song, Jewish and Haitian ones, American and English too, as well as covers of Tom Paxton's "Ramblin' Boy," Sydney Carter's "Crow On The Cradle," and Gordon Jenkin's "This Is All I Ask." Kahn obviously knew her songbooks. Labels on the discs, where such remain, the state simply Sue Kahn sings and plays her guitar. The acetates, cut at Variety Recording Service, 225 West 46^th Street' are housed in buff-colored sleeves within a torn brown paper envelope, "Sue Kahn - Acetates" scribbled neatly in pencil on the front.

Having had them digitized, I've grown in the intervening decade to admire the unique talent of Sue Kahn, as have a few friends. She has the air of a young Joan Baez, but apart from the radio interview lurking in the corners of the internet, years of searches for a photograph, or even a trace of her, have proven fruitless. She'd have had posters or flyers for her Grossinger's and coffee house sojourns, but such ephemera doesn't always survive.

My hunch is that the acetates are those played on the radio show and were her personal and sole copies. Acetates were expensive in both dollars and time, and these may have come on the market after her demise. If she were alive, she'd be in her eighties. Did she willingly disappear circa 1964, in the fashion of Connie Converse and Jim Sullivan, if indeed any willingness can be attached to their absences? Perhaps she simply met a nice Jewish boy and got married? Maybe she died in a car crash? Such are the conjectures that arise when nothing yet remains.

Her songs could make a delicious double vinyl album, a wonderful postcard from the past at the beginning of the folk explosion. Without a face to adorn one, such a project would be pointless—a failure by design. Someone must recall seeing her perform, and somewhere in a closet, an abandoned filing cabinet, something will reside of Sue Kahn. A fading polaroid of her singing from a holiday at Grossinger's would suffice. A mention or a memory, a description of her face, so her songs from sixty years ago can finally entertain and grace the wider world.

Add new comment

Less Is More, If You Know The Score

Robert Cochrane — Sun, 04 Aug 2024 23:02:57 +0000

Less Is More, If You Know The Score Robert Cochrane August 4, 2024 - 19:02

Topics

Music Review

Tags

pop rock

JOHN HOWARD: Currently/I Am Not Gone

We listen to music differently these days, a subtle change in our appreciation having transpired via the largely invisible digital revolution. Once, and not so long upon the time ago, you'd catch a song on the radio, or hear a record at a friend's, and a quest would evolve. A visit to a record store, and then another, if the first hadn't the album or single that you sought. You might even order it and wait, returning to squire home your purchase to play it again, and again, and again.

I'm not saying that people don't still seek to find, but we have lost the thrill of the chase, the fine art of waiting having flown, we suffer the absence of anticipation. We now click and listen, a more disposable relationship is formed with a song on a screen, phone or tablet. The thrill of the chase, that need to find and own something that was always inherently ephemeral, has been diminished by everything being a mere search, swipe, or tap away.

Quintessentially English singer-songwriter John Howard's new single "Currently" c/w "I Am Not Gone" belongs to the days of record shops with listening booths, when shiny black plastic records were the format that reigned. In those days it would likely have been a Double A-Side, whence both songs were deemed equally relevant and fine, and such is the case with this fetching brace of offerings. They reveal a diligent artist at home with his gifts, possessing a deceptive effortlessness without ever seeming clever or contrived. Nifty and refined, they have a lingering catchiness, a thread of hooks that ensnare the mind.

"Currently" is as mini-baroque and chamber masterpiece laden with deceptive eloquence. Elements pervade of early Al Stewart or Cat Stevens and their bedsitter maladies, with melancholy shades of The Beatles and The Zombies, but with a dash of The Left Banke's classicism. "I Am Not Gone" has a flippant skip in it's step harking back to a Saturday afternoon on Carnaby Street. Laconic, with an effortless air that conceals the subtle songcraft within. At two minutes and fourteen seconds it delivers with the subtlety of a wistful kiss that immediately fades before you realise it has been delivered. The song could be a lost remnant from Keith Wast's successful but ill-fated "Except From A Teenage Opera."

John Howard has seen a remarkable renaissance in the past twenty years, after as many decades of stalled creativity. He belongs to a host of neglected once, but gradually respected piano men, Bill Fay and Jobriath spring to mind, who were ignored in the days that were supposed to belong to them, but who've a much greater relevance in the here that we call now.

Add new comment

1964...Knocking At Your Door

Gary Lucas — Sun, 04 Aug 2024 22:03:41 +0000

1964...Knocking At Your Door Gary Lucas August 4, 2024 - 18:03

Topics

Music Review

Tags

The Rolling Stones

Walking past the Carnegie Diner on 57th Street and 7th Avenue recently, I spied this Stones concert poster for a Carnegie Hall double gig on June 20th (my birthday), circa 1964, hanging in the window.

It was for the Stones’s first-ever appearance in NYC.

What was I doing on that red-letter June 20th birthday up in my hometown of Syracuse, NY?

As mentioned, I was only dimly aware of the Stones at that point. It wasn't until "The Last Time" featuring Brian Jones's immortal hypno-riff came over the airwaves in March '65 that the Stones' actual music drilled itself into my adolescent consciousness.

Actually, on the evening of June 20th, 1964, I was watching a revival of Roger Corman's The Little Shop of Horrors (1960) with my birthday crew at the Westcott Theater in Syracuse and laughing my ass off at Seymour Krelborn reacting to the giant plant Audrey Jr.'s command: "FEED ME!!"

I dug the Beatles from catching their very first Ed Sullivan Show appearance in February '64 (the Swinging Sixties, as we recall it, actually started there, truly)—but absolutely adored the IDEA of the Stones as the Anti-Beatles (without hearing a note of their music) when I heard ABOUT them later that year at summer camp—Camp Kennebec to be precise. By the summer of 1965, the Stones were all over the airwaves worldwide with "Satisfaction." But in the summer of '64, they were more of a rumor.

Three days later, on June 23rd, 1964, I was shipped off to Camp Kennebec (oy!).

Kennebec was a prominent (established in 1907 by three Jewish intellectuals from Philly) summer camp in North Belgrade, Maine. A rugged, competitive, tradition-bound, and sports-oriented eight-endless-weeks-long sleep-away summer camp.

God, I hated that camp! ("It's an odd-boy who doesn't like sport"—Bonzo Dog Band). I was bullied and teased there for not being a jock. The accent on sports…feh!

Yet somehow, I managed to have a pretty decent time despite the competitive rah-rah rough-rider vibe permeating Kennebec.

I would spend long hours at night perusing handwritten diaries that went back to 1907 housed in their Library archive in the woods. I was especially fascinated by entries circa World War One. Sad to read how many camper alumni had enlisted and were sent into harm's way only to tragically fall. A life lesson learned.

Another refuge deep in the Maine Woods was Kennebec's excellent Theater Guild program, where I acted and performed on guitar in several elaborate productions—including Edward Albee's The Sandbox and Lionel Bart's Oliver! (it was a non-Kosher but very Jewish summer camp!).

Some famous showbiz folks sent their kids to Kennebec. English film producer Walter Shenson shipped his son Ricky there, and thus, we got to see a pristine print of A Hard Day's Night without any screaming girls in the crowd drowning out the soundtrack (which happened earlier that year when I went to see the flick in Syracuse's Loew's State Theater).

Then there was the Rifle Range. Now, THERE was a sport I could excel at!! I quickly discovered I was a crack shot, which led me to join the Yale Rifle Team some years later.

In trawling through some online reminiscences of this camp, I found the photo circa 1964 below. I am the little shaver on the far left in the bottom row. I, for one, will never forget the motto Uncle Earl Ferguson (top row far right) instilled in us at the Rifle Range:

"This is my Rifle (miming holding a .22 in the standing position), and this is my Gun (gesturing crotch-ward).
One is for Shooting--the other for Fun!"

Best of all, I did make some good friends there—including New Orleans-based R&B writer/Hackberry Ramblers manager Ben Sandmel—who turned me on in a big way to the Stones post-Carnegie Hall in that seminal summer of '64.

FYI: This particular Stones concert advertised (the 2:30 p.m. matinee show anyway) was written up by Tom Wolfe in his Girl of the Year profile of Warhol It Girl (pre-Edie Sedgwick) Baby Jane Holzer, which appeared in Wolfe's 1965 anthology The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby. It is a great read, as is his account of The Teen Tycoon of Rock, Phil "To Know Know Know Him is to Love Love Love Him" Spector, in the same book.

Add new comment

Crooner of the Sea

Brandon Judell — Thu, 06 Jun 2024 21:52:43 +0000

Crooner of the Sea Brandon Judell June 6, 2024 - 17:52

Topics

Music Review

Tags

Cabaret

Here I am, sitting at the helm of the World Voyager. Day 3 of my itinerary. We left the coast of Spain yesterday. Tomorrow France.

Yes, this is the first time if someone told me I was "at sea," it would be a compliment.

The determined waters of the Bay of Biscay pound away as I sip my third coffee of the morning for medicinal purposes. The sky is one huge blue-grey cloud with slivers of white. No coast in sight in any direction.

So, what could be a more appropriate time to recall Michael Craig Shapiro's never-less-than-engaging performance of last night? At 9:30 PM in the Atlas Lounge, Showtime! A New York Cabaret began for those who signed up for the Atlas Ocean Voyage "10-Night Lisbon-to London" trek.

Now for some Shapiro background. This attendee of the University of Colorado Boulder, when not letting loose vocally, is this yacht's cruise director. He also conducts weddings, organizes cocktail parties, and even hosts gastronomic pastry demonstrations. Throughout the day and night, he's seen everywhere on the boat's seven levels, making sure there's not a morose passenger within ten feet of himself.

On dry land, Mr. Shapiro also acts. In the past, he's appeared in vehicles such as the NoHo Arts Center's Yo Ho Ho! A Pirate's Christmas in North Hollywood—and I believe he was somehow involved with Pest Control: The Musical. Doublecheck that.

Well, let's start the show.

The blue-jacketed, serenely starched, white-shirted Mr. Shapiro opened with some advice he garnered from Tony Bennett: make sure your set is no longer than 45 minutes, or the audience will leave. He followed that advice, and no one left. Instead, there were screams of "Encore!" which were succumbed to.

His track list was perfectly chosen for his audience, including old chestnuts from Cole Porter to Kander and Ebb to Mama Cass, but as essayist Joseph Epstein noted, "Familiarity breeds content." Clearly, in every seat, on every couch, there were folks mouthing the lyrics of the chosen tunes.

There was a heavenly "Stairway to Heaven," a wry "They All Laughed," and a quite persuasive "You Can't Take That Away from Me."

Mr. Shapiro then captured the winsome romance of George Gershwin's "He Loves and She Loves":

"He loves and she loves and they love,

So why can't you love and I love too?

Birds love and bees love and whispering trees love,

And that's what we both should do!"

(When you have time, check out Ella Fitzgerald's take.)

Two songs later came "Just a Gigolo," Irving Caesar's 1929 adaptation of the Austrian tango "Schöner Gigolo, armer Gigolo." You might recall David Lee Roth's hit version. For this rhythmic treat, the singer pulled a traveler from San Francisco, the quite game Ms. May Lee, who was transformed in seconds from being a just delightful young woman into not a bad copy of Ginger Rogers.

A pitch-perfect "Dream a Little Dream" reminded me of a recent article declaring Mama Cass did not die from eating a ham sandwich. A sly "Sara Lee" made me hunger for the poundcake of my youth, while Mr. Shapiro's poignant rendition of "When You Wish Upon a Star" especially showed off his vocal skills. "New York, New York," meanwhile, had a sassy blonde with a drink in each hand bopping to her seat as she sang along. The audience, as noted, went wild, and the encore was a solid "My Way" that came with a concise history of the song.

Accompanied on the piano by the pleasing Dan Murphy, the song fest had now ended, and a highly contented crowd climbed up one flight to the Dome to view the stars and the moon and feel the gusts of Mediterranean winds upon their smiling faces.