Showing posts with label Billy Bragg. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Billy Bragg. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 06, 2014

Song Of The Day - John Barleycorn Must Live

One of my favorite authors is Nick Hornby and one of his brilliant pieces of work is a collection of essays called, "Songbook." Hornby picks favorite tracks and writes about them in a brilliant, funny and sometimes incredibly poignant way. The stories go off in various directions with the only rule seemingly being that at the beginning of his thought process is that particular song. Cool idea. So in the best tradition of mediocre non-writers stealing the ideas of far superior writers I thought it would be cool to do this sometimes. So with apologies to Nick Hornby...


On October 1st, 1994 my buddy Trevor stopped by the pizza place where we both worked - he was off - and asked me if I wanted to hit the Robyn Hitchcock show with him that night. I had moved to Seattle after college about four months earlier and Trevor was pretty much my first friend there. We had already bonded over a shared love of the indie music (though Trevor's knowledge far surpassed mine and he was a guitar player himself who knew the Seattle scene really well). He was one of the rare people I met that actually knew who Robyn Hitchcock was and he was also a big fan. He had an extra ticket to Robyn's show that night at the Backstage, which I would discover that night was the best music venue in Seattle (sadly, no longer there).

This would be the first of many shows that Trevor and I would see together while I lived in Seattle, he would turn out to be my favorite concert buddy.

When we got to the Backstage we went straight to the bar and got some beer. Trevor asked the bartender who was opening and the guy told him, "Scott McCoy". I asked who and Trevor said it was the guy from Young Fresh Fellows. I'm pretty sure I said something like, Oh, cool. Yeah" but in reality had no fucking idea what he was talking about. But being 24-years-old I did not want to expose my relative lack of indie rock knowledge.

I would learn later, of course, that his name was spelled Scott McCaughey and just sounds like McCoy. He was great that night in his short set he did with Ken Stringfellow from The Posies, but I mostly remember the awesome Robyn Hitchcock show. I had seen him before but it was with his band in bigger venues opening for REM. This was my first Robyn show in a small club with him on stage by himself, I didn't know then I would see him dozens of times over the next 20 years; by himself, with a band, with violinist Deni Bonet, with Peter Buck from REM, with Scott McCaughey, and many other combinations.

Over the next few years going to concerts in Seattle I would see McCaughey all the time playing with other musicians I had gone to see, including when he became REM's permanent sideman on the Monster tour.

One year I got a job at a law firm - one of those great 90s slacker jobs that were so abundant in Seattle where I didn't have to actually do that much work. My favorite co-worker at the firm was this great guy named Gary. Gary was around 40 while I was in my late 20s and he had a wife and kids. I would discover that Gary was Scott's best friend since high school and that they had once been in a band together. I believe they also followed Mott the Hoople on tour through Europe.

Gary would be something of a role model for me during my time there. First of all he loved music, and despite being over 30-years-old he still loved hearing new bands. He also took his kids to concerts, introduced them to cool stuff, but also didn't begrudge them for liking some pop stuff he couldn't stand listening to. Gary showed me you could actually grow up without becoming "old." He was the first parent I ever met that made me think that it was possible to breed without becoming an asshole or a boring shithead. He had a lot to do with my thinking that having a kid might not be so bad after all. He is exactly the kind of dad I'm trying to be today

Through these years I had actually become more familiar with Scott McCaughey's music and had become quite a fan, especially of his project The Minus 5. I didn't realize it at the time, but that first show I saw him play back in 1994 was pretty much an early version of The Minus 5 since Ken Stringfellow and Peter Buck were his main collaborators on it back when he put together the first version of the group, which has had a rotating cast of characters through the years (including all the members of Wilco and The Decemberists as well as Robyn Hitchcock at various times, among many others).

Seems to me that people love to work with Scott for several reasons. It looks like he can play just about any instrument well, which is a great guy to have in your band. He also seems to have an insane musical knowledge when it comes to the history of rock-and-roll. Having talked to him a few times after shows over the years, I also know he's a hell of a nice guy. (I'm sure the number of times I've dropped Gary's name to him over the years  - "Hey remember me, I used to work with Gary in Seattle..." - has gotten a little annoying but he is always very cool to me).

And most of all, the guy knows how to craft a song. Seriously, how he has not become a bigger star has always surprised me since he can craft a pop song like nobody's business. Listen to John Barleycorn Must Live (off the excellent record Let the War Against Music Begin) and you are listening to a pop gem as good as anything The Beatles put out. Catchy, with lots of cool instrumentation going on underneath, it is also both an homage to music history - John Barleycorn being a British folk tune famously recorded by Traffic in 1970 - and a kind of redemption for the poor Barleycorn, who in the original song, "...should die." Scott McCaughey just decided that somebody must finally stand up for poor John Barleycorn, so this catchy tune is the result.

Scott's sense of humor as resulted in other beautiful pop numbers like With a Gun and also serious rockers like Aw, Shit Man. The man can make a song that makes you think of The Monkees and then turn right around and rock out with his cock out.

People who know how much I go see live music will ask me who I've seen the most and my answer is always, Robyn Hitchcock, Billy Bragg, and Jeff Tweedy/Wilco; all of whom I've seen between 40-60 each, with Robyn being the most for sure. But it dawned on me a couple years ago that I've probably seen Scott McCaughey almost as much as any of them, maybe even more than Billy Bragg or Tweedy. I've seen him play with Tweedy. I've seen him many times with Robyn Hitchcock - especially after he was a part of Robyn's backing band for a few years. I've seen The Minus 5. I've seen him in Tuatara, a kind of Seattle indie super group. I've seen him play with Peter Buck and Alejandro Escovedo. And for the past few years I've been loving seeing Scott play in The Baseball Project, a band composed of him with Steve Wynn (ex-Dream Syndicate) as the songwriters and guitarists along with Peter Buck and Mike Mills from REM, and excellent drummer Linda Pitmon. And as the name suggest, all the songs are about baseball.

Scott McCaughey has very stealthily become a major part of the soundtrack of my life. There are many artist/albums/songs that I think of when looking back on parts of my history and without my noticing Scott McCaughey became one of the dominant artists on that list. I really didn't even realize it until recently. On Record Store Day this year my number one target was The Minus 5 record called Scott the Hoople in the Dungeon of Horror, a sprawling, ambitious 5-LP boxed set of all new music with each disc playing on a theme (one of them being all songs about the band The Monkees, including a 9-minute track called Michael Nesmith, which just may be Scott McCaughey's American Pie and it is just as good if not better).

One of my favorite musicians, even though I didn't know that for years. Makes me think of seeing shows with Trevor, hanging out with the coolest dad I've ever known - which in turn reminds me that I'm happy I married my wife and had our daughter, and how much I love a well-crafted song and a great night out in a club watching great musicians.

Scott also reminds me that life is good.




Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Snap Poll Question Of The Week

OK, so Billy Bragg, one of my all-time favorite singer-songwriters, will be doing a quick East Coast tour in October. It looks like he will be playing New York a few days after my wife is due to give birth to our daughter.

The poll question for the week is this:

If I try to go to that show, by what percentage is it likely that I will come home to an apartment with the locks changed and all my stuff sitting in the hallway?

a) 0% - You are an ass for even thinking it, but for some unknown reason she loves you and puts up with all your silly faults.

b) 50% - She'll think about it hard.

c) 80% - You better bring her a pint of Chubby Hubby ice cream to have any chance of being let back in.

d) 100% - Her mother will be in town, who the heck do you think will be making the argument for giving you a second chance?

e) 0% - Why would she bother changing the locks when you are just going to end up as a floater in the East River?

Give me your votes.

*

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

MIA A Little Longer

Hey folks. Looks like I'm not going to get any real time to blog anything this week. I thought I would be able to today but I got an email this morning to invite me down to Baltimore for a job interview next month. As part of the pre-interview process they want me to answer two short essay questions, which are basically why do you want this job and why do you think you deserve this job?

Between all of the work related trips I have to keep taking out to disease-ridden Newark or Brooklyn, the random gig up in the Bronx and another thing going on in my life that I can't quite yet write about, I really won't have any other time to write up the answers to those questions this week.

And seeing how future job security might be a little more important than trying to mildly entertain you fuckers, you will have to go a little longer without my witty repartee.

Looking at the previous sentence, I can't help but wondering when the hell I became an adult. Because that doesn't sound like the me I know at all.

Anyway, I'll get back to posting real stuff soon, starting with the next part of my seemingly never-ending Southeast Asia travelogue. I promise (threaten?) you haven't heard the last of me. Hopefully I'll find some time this weekend or early next week.

Until then, I'll leave you with this line from the song O Freedom off the new Billy Bragg album, Mr. Love & Justice (U.S. release date moved up to April 8th, but I got myself an import copy last week), which I think is the perfect motto for the Bush decade:

O Freedom! What liberties are taken in thy name.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Irish Eyes Are Crying

Sorry I have gone so long without posting (don't say I didn't warn you) but this last week-and-a-half has been a beast. I have had to travel out to Newark, shit hole of the universe, everyday and end up getting home pretty late after being gone for over twelve hours. On Monday I had the added bonus of having to go straight from Newark to the Flatbush neighborhood in Brooklyn for an evening session I run for students at SUNY Downstate Medical School. For those of you who don't know New York, trust me when I say this is no short hop.

And I had that day after spending the night before out at The Pogues show at Roseland Ballroom.

I had originally gotten tickets for the Saturday night show when they went on sale months ago. But last month Billy Bragg was added to the bill for Sunday night, so I found someone on The Pogues message board to buy the Saturday tickets off of me (thank you Internet!) so I could get tickets for the Sunday show. I couldn't let one of my two favorite singer-songwriters swing through town for a one-off show like that and not go.

The show overall was a pretty big disappointment, though. On paper it looked to be one of those magical, tell your grandchildren you were there, kind of shows. It wasn't.

Billy was great, as he always is, but the room was so fucking big. Roseland is a huge, cavernous space that is not a perfect venue for a guy standing onstage alone with his guitar. But Billy did a great job with his 45 minute set. The crowd was annoying at times while he was playing. Sure, they went nuts and loved it when he pulled out "Power In A Union" or "A New England," but when he played a song off his new album (due out April 22nd) most of the crowd became Chatty Cathys. It happens when you are the opening act, but this is Billy fucking Bragg! Show some damn respect.

I guess I'm just not used to seeing him under such circumstances. Fans at Billy Bragg shows are my favorite concert crowds. We're all Socialists, so we are all really respectful of each other. Nobody talks during the performance and everyone there is really interested in hearing the new songs and listen to Billy explicate his view of the world, not just to hear the "hits." He also usually plays an intimate theatre that holds a few hundred people and not a huge hall that holds several thousand.

But he was still great, so I'm glad I exchanged the tickets.

Then it was time for The Pogues. My wife and I had seen them when they toured the States two years ago, our first chance to see them since they let Shane MacGowan back in the band, and they were great. We had first seen The Pogues about 19 years ago (I can't believe I'm writing that) so we have been fans for a long time. Shane could barely stand up that night in Boston two years before, but he could still sing the shit out of the songs. It was really a sight to behold since he probably should have died from alcohol poisoning many years ago. The crowd was pretty obnoxious that night, but I wrote it off as a Boston thing since most people that live there suck.

It wasn't just a Boston thing, and alcohol-ravaged Shane can no longer sing the shit out of the songs.

The crowd at Roseland was awful. Sometime between when the Pogues broke up to when they got back together they picked up a huge asshole frat boy-type contingent of fans. There were so many backward caps on heads that night I lost track. And they were there more to get drunk than they were to listen to a band. Most everyone was double-fisting beers all night, this being a way to do something Irish for St. Patrick's Day - The Pogues and alcohol. The Roseland was packed with drunk pricks and we couldn't really get away from them. They oversell Roseland so much that the crowd was still packed tight even at the very back.

Don't get me wrong, I have done my fair share of drinking too much at shows. But it getting shitfaced was never my goal. It happens because I forget to pace myself. This crowd was made up of people that were obviously trying to get as drunk as they could as fast as they could.

I just don't remember this from back in the original days of The Pogues. These types of guys were the ones who never heard of them back then. This was such an drunken, testosterone-laden, mosh-pit loving crowd that I felt like I was at a Megadeath show. This was so annoying and it has to be somebody's fault.

I blame the Dropkick Murphys.

This dickhead fan base was created by the likes of Pogues-wannabe bands like the Dropkick Murphys and Flogging Molly. They introduced their idiot fan base to their weak-ass version of the kind of Celtic rock The Pogues introduced to the world, and now those fans fill up the shows and fall or sway drunkenly on top of my poor wife.

Well it helps The Pogues make a bunch of money I guess. And they don't have to actually be any good anymore to thrill the moron masses that now make up their crowds. They are just phoning it in. The set list from night to night on this tour has stayed exactly the same and the songs just sound tired. They sound more like a band trying to sound like The Pogues than the actual Pogues themselves. At this point a Pogues cover band would probably be better.

And Shane? The tragic genius that is Shane MacGowan is losing the genius part. I mentioned before that two years ago he could barely stand but could still sing the shit out of the songs. Well now he can barely sing the songs and can no longer stand all the time, apparently.

He actually fell down on stage that night. He wasn't dancing around or anything, he just fell down at the microphone during "Turkish Song Of The Damned" and had to be helped up. It was a pathetic sight.

It is really a shame to see a band I really love become something so weak and pedestrian.

But I guess as long as the drunken fools will still dance and mosh along in their green hats at $55 a ticket, I doubt The Pogues give a shit anymore.

And that's the problem.