Posts Tagged ‘van morrison’

Elvis Costello at 70, here are his ten best albums

Posted: August 28, 2024 by John Ruberry in culture, entertainment
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By John Ruberry

This week Elvis Costello turned 70.

The angry young man whose first album, My Aim Is True, was released in 1977, has released 32 studio albums. His most recent collection, The Boy Named If, was issued in 2022.

Costello, whose real name is Declan Patrick MacManus, was part of the new wave movement of rock, and to this day, he’s still lumped into that genre. But Costello has released country, jazz, rhythm and blues, baroque pop, and Americana albums as well. The London-born singer, songwriter, and guitarist is a walking musicology department. 

Although he’s made extensive use of session musicians, Costello has mostly worked with two backing bands. The Attractions, consisting of Steve Nieve on keyboards, Pete Thomas and drums, and Bruce Thomas (no relation) on bass. 

Depending on who you talk to, Bruce left the Attractions in the late 1990s–or he was kicked out. Davey Faragher replaced Thomas on bass in 2001, the new lineup was renamed the Imposters. Nick Lowe produced Costello’s first five albums and two others later on, T-Bone Burnett produced several mid-career collections.

Generally, when you purchase a Costello album–there are a couple of exceptions, The Juliet Letters and Kojak Variety come to mind–you’ve made a smart buy.

But let’s talk about Costello’s 10 best albums.

Oh, first, a clarification. Early in his career, Elvis’ American albums and British albums varied a bit by a song or two. My selections are based on the USA collections.

10) Secret, Profane & Sugarcane (2009): An Americana offering, Burnett was behind the boards on this collection. “Red Cotton” is one of the best condemnations of slavery ever recorded. “Hidden Shame,” a Costello-penned tune that was originally recorded by Johnny Cash, is another highlight.

9) Trust (1981): This is a forgotten album of sorts from Costello. But Elvis was remembering when he recorded it. He had an enormous influence on other new wave artists, and here Elvis gives a nod to those new wavers who followed. “You’ll Never Be a Man” is a nod to the Pretenders, “Fish and Chip Paper” salutes Squeeze, and “White Knuckles” is a tribute to XTC. Squeeze’s Glenn Tilbrook contributes vocals “From a Whisper to a Scream.” But the best of the bunch is the opening track, “Clubland.” 

8) Brutal Youth (1994): This might be a good collection for the Costello novice. The last Elvis album to be produced by Nick Lowe, it includes baroque pop with “London’s Brilliant Parade” and “You Tripped at Every Step,” as well as echoes from the new wave with “Pony Street” and “Sulky Girl.”

7) My Aim Is True (1977): Costello’s debut, with American country rock group Clover backing him, usually is ranked higher by his fans. The Van Morrison and Graham Parker influences are evident, particularly on songs like “Pay It Back.” But several of his most recognizable songs, “Miracle Man,” “Watching the Detectives,” “Alison,” and “Mystery Man” are here. Great stuff–but greater stuff was coming.

6) Spike (1989): The first results of Costello’s songwriting collaboration with Paul McCartney appear here, and not surprisingly, “Veronica,” Elvis’ biggest hit single in America, was one of the songs they partnered on. While it’s a single album, there’s a deluge of musical instruments–and styles–which makes Spike feel like a double album. Other great tracks here include “Any King’s Shilling,” “…This Town…” and “God’s Comic.”

5) Armed Forces (1979): Perhaps Costello’s’ best-known work, “Accidents Will Happen,” “Oliver’s Army,” and the Nick Lowe-composed “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding” are among Costello-fan favorites found here. A couple of weak songs, “Two Little Hitlers” and “Chemistry Class” prevents Armed Forces from ranking higher. As do some bizarre Nazi Germany references used–besides the cuts mentioned earlier.

4) King of America (1986): Like the work of the Band–that group’s output was a major influence on Costello’s work, this is an Americana album before anyone knew such a genre existed. While the Attractions appear on one song, the soaring “Suit of Lights,” California-based session musicians, most prominently the Other Elvis’ backing group, the TCB Band, support Costello on this Burnett production. Other standout songs include “Brilliant Mistake,” “Jack of All Parades,” and “Indoor Fireworks.”

3) Get Happy!! (1980): After recording demos for his fourth album, Costello thought the tracks sounded “too new wave.” So, he rearranged most of the songs as if they were 1960s Memphis rhythm and blues tunes–a sound that was not that fashionable in 1980. But Get Happy!! has aged well. “Temptation,” “Riot Act,” and “High Fidelity” are particularly strong songs among the 20 found here.

2) This Year’s Model (1978): Regardless of the talent of the artist, second albums are usually disappointments. Inspired by punk, Costello revved up his act–backed for the first time by the Attractions—and his sophomore effort gave listeners a punchier sound with iconic classics such as “Pump It Up,” “Radio, Radio,” and “You Belong to Me.”

1) Imperial Bedroom (1982): Produced by Geoff Emerick, who did engineering work for the Beatles, Costello’s best album is clearly inspired by mid-1960s work of the Fab Four, as well as old-school songwriters such as Cole Porter and George Gershwin. It’s a dazzling preview of Costello’s later baroque pop work. “Beyond Belief,” “Almost Blue,” “You Little Fool,” and “Man out of Time” are particularly notable. 

Happy birthday, Elvis! 

John Ruberry regularly blogs at Marathon Pundit.

Review, Van Morrison’s Live at Orangefield

Posted: August 4, 2024 by John Ruberry in covid, culture, entertainment
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By John Ruberry

Under the radar, a new Van Morrison album has arrived. On Morrison’s website, the release of Live at Orangefield, had been promised for a while, and last month, on vinyl and CD, on Van the Man’s Orangefield Records, it went on sale. 

I subscribe to iTunes, and with any artist whose work I’ve downloaded, I will usually find that performer’s latest effort on the “New Releases” tab of my Apple Music homepage. But not always with Morrison, a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame member who has released an astounding 45 studio albums since 1967. 

Morrison, a native of Belfast, Northern Ireland, also has cut six live albums. His first one, It’s Too Late to Stop Now–an expanded edition was issued in 2016–is one of the best live albums ever. His second live collection, Live at the Grand Opera House Belfast, obviously was recorded in his hometown. 

As was Live at Orangefield. The Belfast Cowboy’s first live performance took place with his skiffle group in 1959 at Orangefield High School when he was a student there. In 2014, the school closed, and to salute the school–and even more so Belfast–Morrison, with his always tight band, returned.

A Facebook Morrison group–Van, by the way, is no fan of Facebook–alerted me that Live at Orangefield was available to download. Apple didn’t notify me. Possibly, because both musically and in interviews, Morrison was probably the most strident opponent among entertainment industry figures of the COVID lockdowns, that online slight was intentional. Three Morrison singles, one recorded with Eric Clapton, attacked government COVID-related restrictions. The triple-vinyl album, Latest Record Project Volume One and its follow-up, What’s It Gonna Take?–continued the pushback. 

While there were some favorable reviews, most critics savaged, unfairly, that output. Rock critics are mostly an intellectually vapid lot–and like sportswriters, most of them prefer writing about politics when the opportunity arises. Morrison, despite his legendary status, offered those mental midgets a ripe target. But history has been kind to this septuagenarian rebel. At the very least, the COVID lockdowns were an overreach. Still, in the media and the music business, Van Morrison, is almost certainly purposely ignored. 

In a Google News search, as of this writing, I could only find two reviews of Live at Orangefield.

And that’s a pity, because Live at Orangefield is an essential Morrison work. While Morrison has a reputation as an aloof and ornery fellow–which is either not true or it is possibly an exaggeration pushed by those self-worshipping rock critics–he offers some charm here.

In a mostly spoken-word piece on this album, “On Hyndford Street,” Morrison calls out to the crowd, “If any of the guys from ‘the street’ are here, give me a shout if you remember this one.” 

Playing ’round Mrs. Kelly’s lamp
Going out to Holywood on the bus 
And walking from the end of the lines to the seaside
Stopping at Fusco’s for ice cream [loud cheers follow] 
In the days before rock ‘n’ roll.

I looked it up–I don’t know if the establishment I found online is the same Fusco’s that Morrison and his pals used to patronize, but there is a Fusco’s in Belfast.

Van the Man was born on August 31, 1945 at 145 Hyndford Street. And particularly with “On Hyndford Street,” which as originally released on the Hymns to the Silence double album, but also on other tracks here, listeners get the feeling that they are participating in a walking tour of Belfast–with Morrison as a tour guide.

I’ve only seen Morrison once in concert–he was fantastic. Morrison has a reputation for not playing many of his hits from the overexposed “classic rock” era. But Van is a performer, not a fossil, and if he had fossilized his career, then he’d be on the stale casino circuit along with Lynard Skynard, which carries on even though that band has no original members left on its roster. But they play the hits, as do the Van Morrison tribute bands. 

But there are some of those Van hits on Live at Orangefield. The album opens with the instrumental “Celtic Excavation,” and then segues to “Into the Mystic.” Belfast of course is a seaport. I don’t know if this stanza is about Belfast, but it could be.

And when that foghorn blows
I will be coming home
And when the foghorn blows 
I want to hear it 
I don’t have to fear it.

Another hit, albeit a minor one, “Cleaning Windows,” follows. Morrison’s job before becoming a full-time musician was toiling as a window washer in Belfast. Then comes “Orangefield” and “Moondance.”

Other Belfast-related songs include “Got to Go Back” and “Northern Muse (Solid Ground).”

Another highlight here is “That’s Life,” the Frank Sinatra song, which Morrison recorded with Georgie Fame in 1995. Lyrically it’s an important addition to the set list, and musically too. In the 2000s and the following decade, much of Van the Man’s output had a jazzy and swing feel. New age jazz is a genre Morrison worked with in the 1980s; several of the songs I mentioned earlier utilize that sound. 

Live at Orangefield is an essential collection for the Morrison fan, and it’s a good place to start, particularly if you enjoy jazz-flavored popular music, if you want to learn more about this fantastic musician. 

And if you live in Belfast–then, man, what are you waiting for?

One more thing: Smart people listen to Van Morrison.

Live at Orangefield is available in vinyl and CD forms at Van Morrison.com. And you can download it at iTunes and stream it on Spotify.

John Ruberry regularly blogs at Marathon Pundit.

13 great songs about getting old

Posted: March 3, 2024 by John Ruberry in culture, entertainment
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By John Ruberry

You’ve heard it before and probably not from me. No one ever got younger. 

Getting old is natural as youth, but our culture of course is focused on the latter–music especially.

Yet, I’ve managed to discover some great songs about aging. 

13) “A Lady of a Certain Age,” the Divine Comedy. Neil Hannon, who is essentially the one and only member of this baroque pop act from Northern Ireland, is a first-rate storyteller, along the lines of the Kinks’ Ray Davies. We’ll hear from Davies later. As for that lady of a certain age, Hannon, leaves it up to you whether to like her or not.

12) “Something about England,” the Clash. The self-styled “Only Band that Matters” often went too far with their pedantic politicking, and this song, about a young man (Mick Jones) encountering an old homeless man (Joe Strummer), gets off to a bad start with a condemnation of anti-immigrant sentiment, which has nothing to do with the rest of its poignant lyrics.

“You really think it’s all new
You really think about it too,”
The old man scoffed as he spoke to me,
“I’ll tell you a thing or two.”

Jones’ character learns that he has much in common with Strummer’s old man, just as another old man we’ll encounter later. This track is probably the best matchup of the contrasting vocals styles of Jones and Strummer in the Clash’s catalog.

11) “When I’m Sixty-Four,” the Beatles. You’ve certainly heard this one before. Paul McCartney, who sings lead here, sadly didn’t find out if his first wife, Linda, would love him at 64, she passed away from cancer when he was 55. Linda by all accounts still loved Paul until the end.

10) “Glory Days,” Bruce Springsteen. Lost love is a common topic in songs, here’s one about lost youth. “Glory days, yeah, they’ll pass you by, glory days, in the wink of a young girl’s eye,” is part of this song’s chorus.

9) “Minutes to Memory,” John Mellencamp. Two Hoosiers, Mellencamp and a 70-year-old retired steelworker from Gary, are sitting next to each other on a Greyhound bus, probably heading back to Indiana. The elderly man gives Mellencamp advice, which, years later, he finally sees as sagacious.

The old man had a vision but it was hard for me to follow,
“I do things my way and I pay a high price,”
When I think back on the old man and the bus ride
Now that I’m older I can see he was right.

Another hot one out on Highway 11
“This is my life, it’s what I’ve chosen to do
There’s no free rides, no one said it’d be easy,”
The old man told me this, my son, I’m telling it to you.

8) “Old Man,” Neil Young. Another song you are probably familiar with. The opening line says it all, “Old man, look at my life, I’m a lot like you were.”

7) “Where Have All the Good Times Gone,” the Kinks. Astonishingly, the Kinks principal songwriter, Ray Davies was only 21 when this song was released in 1965. The Kinks have a very loyal support base, but this song, similar in sentiment to Springsteen’s “Glory Days,” was a sleeper fan favorite, not becoming a staple of the Kinks’ live set until a decade later. Davies developed the idea for this song by listening older men reminisce and regret in pubs.

6) “Veronica,” Elvis Costello. Paul McCartney, the co-writer of course of “When I’m Sixty-Four,” penned this tune with Costello. While “Veronica” has a bouncy, British Invasion-type melody, in typical Costello fashion, it’s paired with downcast lyrics. “Veronica,” which was Costello’s highest-charting single, was written about his paternal grandmother, Molly McManus, who was suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. While Mellencamp’s steelworker character in “Minutes to Memories” is filled with memories, tragically Veronica’s have faded away.

5) “100 Years,” Five for Fighting. A solo act in all but name, like Neil Hannon’s the Divine Comedy, Five for Fighting is the work of John Ondrasik. “100 Years” takes the listener from the main character’s teen years deep into old age. It’s a lesson about how seemingly short even the longest lives are.

4) “Father and Son,” Cat Stevens. His birthname was Steven Demetre Georgio–now he’s known as Yusuf Islam–but as Cat Stevens, he movingly wrote about a father who says, “I am old, but I’m happy.” But is he? And while this father has wisdom, he still doesn’t understand his son. Sometimes relationships aren’t destined to be blissful ones, however hard we try.

3) “The Lion This Time,” Van Morrison. Unless you know a lot about Van the Man’s storied career, this song doesn’t seem to belong here. So let me provide the background. Rare for a pop tune as it was written in the 6/8 time signature, “The Lion This Time” is a sequel of sorts of sorts to “Listen to the Lion,” an 11-minute long Morrison masterpiece recorded over 30 years prior. “The Lion This Time” is a standout of his Magic Time album, Morrison’s best collection from the 21st century. Van the Man turned 60 a few months after the release of Magic Time. In a contemporary review for Paste, Andy Whitman wrote of both this song and the album, “You expect to encounter a tired legend, a once-mighty king becalmed and tamed by the miles and years. You find instead an echo of a full-throated roar hanging in the air, the telltale signs of a bloody struggle, and an empty cage. The lion in winter is on the loose.”

And the Belfast Lion is still on the prowl. Last autumn he released his 45th studio album.

2) “Martha,” Tom Waits. Closing Time, Tom Waits debut album, didn’t gather much attention–or sales. But the Eagles noticed, and they recorded “Ol’ 55” from that album for their “On the Border” collection. But an even better song is “Martha.” Waits’ character, Tom Frost, calls an old flame, “Martha,” after forty years apart. They married others, but Frost can’t let go.

I guess that our being together
Was never meant to be
And Martha, Martha
I love you, can’t you see?

Not surprisingly, “Martha” is one of Waits’ most covered compositions.

1) “Hello in There,” John Prine. I’ll let Prine, who as a teen delivered newspapers, tell the story behind this gem. “I delivered to a Baptist old people’s home where we’d have to go room-to-room,” Prine said, “and some of the patients would kind of pretend that you were a grandchild or nephew that had come to visit, instead of the guy delivering papers. That always stuck in my head.”

The chorus is haunting yet beautiful.

You know that old trees just grow stronger
And old rivers grow wilder every day
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say, “Hello in there, hello.”

This song is so good it could be used to recruit volunteers for assisted living homes.

Amazingly, all of the lead singers of the songs in this assemblage are still with us, except for Prine, who, after years of poor health, was taken by COVID in 2020.

John Ruberry regularly blogs at Marathon Pundit.

The studio albums by The Band, ranked

Posted: August 13, 2023 by John Ruberry in culture, entertainment
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By John Ruberry

Last week one of music’s giants, Robbie Robertson, the lead guitarist and the principle songwriter for The Band, died at the age of 80.

In this post I’ll rank their studio albums.

Much like Fleetwood Mac, The Band, when you reach back to their beginnings in Toronto, is one of the few musical acts that, like a nation, have a historical narrative.

Arkansas rockabilly singer Ronnie Hawkins found success with his backup band, the Hawks, in Canada in the lat 1950s. But one by one, each Hawk, except for drummer Levon Helm, got homesick and returned to America. The first Canadian to join the Hawks was Robertson, who was quickly supplemented by bassist Rick Danko, pianist Richard Manuel, and organist Garth Hudson, but all of the members of the band were multi-instrumentalists, particularly Hudson. The Band had three vocalists, Helm, Danko, and Manuel. Often, particularly on their first two albums, they would interchange leads—and beautifully harmonize.

The Hawks split from Hawkins in 1963, and under different names, performed as a first-rate bar band until becoming Bob Dylan’s concert backing band. Helm left during that tour. 

After Dylan was injured in a motorcycle accident in 1966, with the Hawks, he recorded new material that was released in 1975 as The Basement Tapes. Helm rejoined in 1967, after the newly-dubbed The Band was signed Capitol Records. 

After many ups and a few downs, The Band split after their final concert–with many guest performers–which was lovingly documented in the Martin Scorsese-directed movie, The Last Waltz. The soundtrack album is also an essential work of art.

In the 1980s, without Robertson, The Band reformed, went on tour, with the intention of returning to the recording studio. But Manuel committed suicide in 1986. The remaining Band members eventually recorded three albums in the 1990s, consisting mostly of covers, but the rump Band broke up for good after Danko’s death in 1999. Helm, who had been feuding with Robertson for years over songwriting credits and money in general, died in 2012. Hawkins passed away last year.

Hudson is the only surviving member of The Band.

And now let’s start the rundown of The Band’s albums. Yes, the ones with the original lineup.

Islands (1977): There are some great outtakes albums, The Who’s Odds and Sods and Elvis Costello’s Taking Liberties come to mind. Islands is like most of the others, where listeners can say to themselves, “I can see why these songs were left off of previous albums.” Because The Last Waltz soundtrack was promised to another label, Islands was compiled to satisfy The Band’s contractual obligation to Capitol Records.  It contains a curiosity, “Knockin’ Lost John,” the only Band song where Roberston sings lead. Next…

Cahoots (1971): Drugs had taken their toll on The Band by this time, and Robertson’s songs weren’t very good here. Cahoots starts off well enough, with “Life Is a Carnival,” but immediately sinks into them mud. Not even one of my favorites, Van Morrison, who co-wrote with Robertson “4% Pantomime,” which is about two drunk musicians in a bar complaining about life on the road, could save Cahoots. Listening to this album is about as enjoyable as sitting next to two drunk musicians in a bar as they…well, you get it. On the upside, the album artwork is gorgeous, and one of Morrison’s nicknames, the Belfast Cowboy, comes from “4% Pantomime.”

Moondog Matinee (1973): Two paragraphs ago Costello, who counts The Band as one of his major influences, received a compliment, now I’m evening the score. In 1995, Costello recorded an album of mostly obscure R&B covers, Kojak Variety. It’s a terrible record. Moondog Matinee, which also contains many lesser-known R&B tunes, is better than that. Predictably, it’s the better-known songs that The Band chose, including “I’m Ready,” “Mystery Train,” and “Promised Land,” which click. 

Yes, I do love The Band. Really, I do.

Now comes the good stuff.

Stage Fright (1970): While Cahoots understandably opens with its best song, on Stage Fright, the collection’s worst two songs, “Strawberry Wine” and “Sleeping” are the opening tracks. The first song was co-written by Helm with Robertson, and Manuel co-wrote the second one with Robbie. With the exception of one other tune, all of the rest of the songs were written solely by Robertson, including these Band standards, the title track, as well as “The Shape I’m In,” and “The W.S. Walcott Medicine Show.” More rock and R&B oriented than The Band’s first two albums, Stage Fright is also remembered for Todd Rundgren’s role as engineer.

Northern Lights-Southern Cross (1975): The Band, with their first studio album in four years, came back in a big way here. “Acadian Driftwood,” a musical cousin of sorts of “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down,” recounts the ethnic cleansing of French speakers in the 1750s from Nova Scotia by the British. At the time, Robertson was married to a French-Canadian, tensions between Anglophone and Francophone Canada were at a peak then. Like the early days of The Band, Helm, Manuel, and Danko harmonize and swap lead verses. “Ophelia,” “Jupiter Hollow,” and “It Makes No Difference” are the other great tracks on this collection. Every song on Northern Lights-Southern Cross is a Robertson composition.

Music from Big Pink (1968): One of the best debut albums ever, and not just because of the great songs, such as “Chest Fever,” “The Weight,” and the Dylan-penned “I Shall Be Released.” No one knew it at the time, but Music from Big Pink was the first album of the Americana genre, or if you prefer, roots music. The album artwork featured a Dylan painting. “The Weight” is the ultimate Band song, Helm and Danko share lead vocals and Manuel adds perfect harmonies. Dylan cowrote, with Manuel and Danko respectively, “Tears of Rage” and “This Wheel’s on Fire.”

The Band (1969): Most bands with a great debut album effort suffer from a sophomore jinx. Not The Band, with their self-titled follow-up, also known as the Brown Album. There are no Dylan songs this time, but Robertson filled that vacuum with works that are now Americana classics, such as aforementioned “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down,” as well as “Rag Mama Rag,” and “Up on Cripple Creek.” Sometimes it’s hard to ascertain why The Band was so great and so unique. “Jawbone,” a Robertson and Manuel collaboration, offers a clue. It was written in a 6/4 time signature, a rarity in popular music.

And so was Robbie Robertson, a rarity. Rest in peace.

John Ruberry regularly blogs at Marathon Pundit.

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