Aerosmith: Rocks

Posted in Essays, Music with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 29, 2010 by jnagle4

“My favorite band is Aerosmith.”

When I hear this sentence, I cringe.  Not because I dislike Aerosmith, but because I can recite the coming exchange word for word.

“Cool.  What’s your favorite album?” I ask, knowing the answer.

Pump.”

We have another one.  I plaster a smile on my face and then respond.

“That’s cool.  I’m partial to Rocks.”

The young Aerosmith fan gets a quizzical look on his face and asks, “What’s Rocks?”

What is Rocks?

In my younger and more vulnerable years, I lashed out at that question.  How can someone be an Aerosmith fan and not know what Rocks is?  Aerosmith’s entire reputation is based upon this record. Toys in the Attic has “Walk This Way” and “Sweet Emotion,” but Rocks is the pinnacle of the classic Aerosmith sound.  Joe Perry and Steven Tyler are at each other’s throat, but they don’t let it get in the way of the product.  They are snorting half of Peru, but the cocaine is a muse rather than a burden.  It’s the moment before the wing completely fell off the plane.

In the mid-70s, Aerosmith was reviled by the rock press for ripping off The Rolling Stones.  While The Stones’ influence is obvious, Aerosmith had two things that The Stones didn’t: Volume and Steven Tyler.  Rocks is Steven Tyler’s coronation as one of the definitive frontmen of the 1970s.  He showed charisma on the early Aerosmith records, but when he hits the first note of “Back in the Saddle,” he sheds his skin as a Jagger clone.  Robert Plant could scream, but his screams were more sensual.    He would have sex with random groupies sure, but he would treat them like ladies.  Tyler has no time for such pleasantries.  He needs to evacuate some liquid kids, and he needs to do it right now. He could seduce, but the result is always the same.

While Tyler howls, Joe Perry provides the sweet talk.  His guitar slithers and slides, drawing the listener in with every hot lick.  Many guitar heroes were able to do this, but the volume and the assistance of Brad Whitford gave Aerosmith their metallic edge.

Aerosmith’s sound is the key to their success, but the lyrics keep Rocks grounded in reality.. A year had passed since Toys in the Attic and Aerosmith was now one of the biggest bands in the world.   Their music was blasting from every Trans-Am in America.  It should have been an album of supreme triumph, but it isn’t.  Tyler sums it up in one of the most overlooked lyrics in the history of rock n’ roll:

Walkin’ on Gucci wearing Yves St. Laurent/They barely stay on ‘cause I’m so goddamn gaunt.”

Tyler delivers the lyric with just the right amount of exhaustion.  Many bands who tried to copy the formula forgot that Aerosmith doesn’t glorify the lifestyle.  For every “Last Child,” there is “Sick as a Dog,” in which the Toxic Twins completely withdrawal.  Rocks depicts the rock n’ roll lifestyle, warts and all.

Aerosmith would self-destruct after 1978’s Draw the Line.  Joe Perry and Brad Whitford left the band, while Tyler kept Aerosmith going.  When the original lineup reformed in the mid-80s, the raunch was still there, but the consequences weren’t.  Harrowing tales of the road were replaced by living it up while going down.  Rocks is not that record.  If you are hearing it for the first time, you will need to take a shower afterwards.  Trust me.

Public Relations

Posted in Essays with tags , , , , , , on July 27, 2010 by jnagle4

Photo Credit: AMC

Who is Don Draper?

Don has been asked this question dozens of times over the course of the series, so he gives the reporter the same oblique answers he’s given everyone else.  He looks him dead in the eye, takes a couple seductive drags on his cigarette and waits for the reporter to bask in the glow of mystery.

When the article comes out a few days later, he finds out that the reporter hasn’t fallen for his ruse.  Instead of coming off like a suave man of mystery, he seems aloof and arrogant.  His colleagues at Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce are appalled, chiding him for wasting an opportunity to promote their still fledgling firm.  A client calls and cancels his account, upset that Draper didn’t mention his business.  Don is baffled.  Even when his personal life was in shambles, he was always in control of his professional destiny.

Mad Men’s fourth season opens in November of 1964.  The ‘60s as we know them are finally coming into view.  The colors are a bit brighter, the world is a bit faster and the young people are staking out their place in the world.  Don Draper is desperately trying to hold onto his. He is feeling more like Dick Whitman than the master of the universe he created out of thin air.

In a lesser show, the viewer would be blasted with obvious symbolism and long expository speeches about Don’s adjustment to life without Betty and the kids.  Instead, Draper looks at himself in the mirror while preparing for his date.  He runs his fingers through his meticulously Brylcreemed hair, as if he is trying to summon the Draper of old.  The date goes reasonably well, but it’s clear that the girl isn’t under Draper’s spell.  This is an entirely new experience for him, as women have been dropping their panties from the moment the series began.

In the car, Draper turns on the charm and the woman turns him down.  He gives his address to the cabbie in a state of disbelief.  On Thanksgiving Day, he hires a prostitute for company.  Unlike his other sexual encounters, this was desperate.  He seemed totally out of control, meekly asking her if she could slap him.  He is in the same place Roger Sterling was before he married Jane.

At the end of the episode, as Don was giving his punched-up biography to the reporter from The Wall Street Journal, he talks the talk, but the conviction isn’t quite there.  He got to where he is by not saying anything, and now he must reveal everything.  The era of mystique has come and gone.  The strong silent type is fading into history, being replaced by brash young punks who pour Pepsi in their breakfast cereal.  Draper is adapting for now, but he won’t be able to keep the charade for much longer.

Rocks

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on July 19, 2010 by jnagle4

Budokan!

Posted in Essays, Music with tags , , , , , , , on July 15, 2010 by jnagle4

Cheap Trick’s At Budokan has one of the greatest album covers in the history of rock n’ roll.  Lead singer Robin Zander and bassist Tom Peterson are standing next to each other, grinning from ear to ear.  They are smiling the type of smiles that only come once or twice in a lifetime.   They aren’t smiling out of cockiness or arrogance, but because they can’t believe their luck.   If At Budokan was just a picture on a piece of cardboard, it would still be one of the greatest albums ever made.

At Budokan was released during the golden age of the live record.  Kiss and Peter Frampton had strong followings before they released Alive and Frampton Comes Alive, but the success of those two records made them stadium rock demi-gods.  Cheap Trick was in the same situation that Kiss and Frampton were in two years earlier, except they were full blown teen idols in Japan.  To capitalize on their success in the Far East, Epic Records recorded their sold out gig at the legendary Budokan sumo arena and released it for the Japanese market.

The album was released in Japan in October of 1978.  The raw sound created a buzz in the United States, and At Budokan became a strong seller on the import market.  Epic noticed this and released it stateside in 1979.  After years of critical acclaim but little commercial success, Cheap Trick became the rock stars they deserved to be.

At Budokan stands in sharp contrast to the bloated live albums of the late ‘70s, which were bogged down by endless drum solos, rambling banter and “extended” versions.  At Budokan contains only ten tracks.  With such an abbreviated setlist, Cheap Trick had no time for frivolity or error.  They come crashing out the gate with “Hello There” and rarely give the listener a chance to breathe.

The dynamic between hard and soft is the basis of Cheap Trick’s sound.  Guitarist Rick Nielsen goes for the jugular, banging out power-chords at a dizzying pace.  He embellishes the garage rock simplicity with bombastic bursts of soloing. The solos only last for a few bars, hinting at the virtuosity spewing beneath his trademark baseball cap.  Bassist Tom Peterson and Bun E. Carlos work behind Neilson, creating a steady rhythm section.  Carlos’ drumming is directly influenced by The British Invasion, simple but swinging.  Peterson’s bass is the melodic texture, melding with Neilson’s guitar to create a richer sound.

While Nielsen, Petersen and Carlos provide the power and the rhythm, Robin Zander adds the melody.  Although Zander is from Illinois, his voice is straight out of the British Invasion.  Zander has the ability to make every chorus sound huge.  He never screams or embellishes, but he has an innate sense of pitch.  He never gets out of breath or misses a note.  He makes being a frontman look like the easiest job on earth.

The setlist is all killer, no filler.  It’s exhilarating to hear “Come On, Come On” followed by “Lookout” followed by “Big Eyes.”

The atmosphere drives the album over the top.   The moment the album begins, the listener is greeted with the orgasmic screams of several thousand Japanese schoolgirls, who react to every single thing the band does.  Robin Zander sounds like a kindergarten teacher as he slowly introduces the band’s latest single, a little ditty called “Surrender.”

My favorite part of At Budokan is towards the end.  The band is tearing through “Clock Strikes Ten,” and Bun E. Carlos starts playing a brief solo.  After he pounds out a few beats, Zander introduces him, “ON THE DRUMS! MR. BUN E. CARLOS!”  Carlos follows the intro with a spectacular drum roll while the girls scream with glee.  I never get tired of hearing it.  There is such joy in those screams.

RIP Harvey Pekar

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on July 12, 2010 by jnagle4

The Gaslight Anthem: American Slang

Posted in Music, Reviews with tags , , , , , , , , , , on July 7, 2010 by jnagle4

“We were always waiting for something to happen.”
-The Gaslight Anthem, “Great Expectations”

Something has happened.  The Gaslight Anthem has gone from a promising young rock band to the Next Big Thing.  They have gone from playing small clubs in their native New Jersey to playing “The ’59 Sound” with Bruce Springsteen in England.  The greatest of expectations have been heaped upon American Slang, and it largely lives up to the hype.

It’s hard to listen to American Slang without thinking of Bruce Springsteen’s breakthrough, Born to Run.  Both records are about leaving your comfort zone and moving to bigger and better things.  But while Born to Run is about leaving to escape the small town, American Slang is more optimistic.  The Gaslight Anthem have left New Jersey not because of extenuating circumstances, but because they want to see what is beyond their world.

The title track will draw some comparisons to “Great Expectations,” but there are several key differences.  In “Great Expectations,” Fallon was restless because he didn’t know how to get out of his situation.  He’s restless in “American Slang,” because he’s getting ready to move on.  He lays it on the all on the line in the first couple verses, “I seem to be coming out of my skin/Look what you’ve forgotten here/the bandages won’t keep me in.”  Instead of sounding urgent, the guitars ring out.  He spent the first two records preparing for this moment and now he’s finally ready.

Now that the band is moving away from their Jersey roots, the punk influence of the first two records is slightly toned down.  Alex Rosamilia’s guitar playing is still driving, but it jangles rather than crackles.  Instead of bashing the drums, Ben Horowitz playing is more reserved and tasteful.   The streamlined sound puts more of an emphasis on the choruses, which are even bigger than The ’59 Sound.  “The Boxer” begins with the chorus chanted over sparse drum beats, anticipating audience participation

The band was listening to a lot of vintage soul while making this album and it shows.  Fallon’s singing is smoother, with a hint of gospel.  On “The Queen of Lower Chelsea,” the music is mixed in the back, with the emphasis on the vocals.  The lyrics are hopeful, but there is a hint of sadness when he sings, “nothing is free/not even me.”

But maybe it isn’t sadness, but wistfulness.  The Gaslight Anthem is in a precarious position.  Two years ago they were still four kids from Jersey, psyched to get a cover story on AP.  Now they are regularly featured in Rolling Stone.  Some fans may balk at the sound of the new record, complaining that it’s no longer punk rock.  The guitars don’t buzz like they did on Sink or Swim, but the heart of this band is still a mile wide.  The sound is bigger and more polished, but The Gaslight Anthem hasn’t forgotten who brought them to the dance.