9 years ago we started a weekly e-mail newsletter that eventually became the blog you are reading right now. It's been a fun, frustrating, yet fantastic ride, so thanks for reading, especially to those of you who've been faithful "5"ers all these years. Cheers.
(Is an anniversary podcast in order? Hmm...)
Also, props to our anniversary twin, Glorious Noise, a knowledgeable bunch of righteous bastards we've been fans of for a very long time, and who keep it legit while sailing across this sea of online bullshit.
2/10/2010
2/09/2010
Who's Next?
We only caught the last 15 mins. or so of this past Sunday’s Super Bowl, so we missed The Who’s half-time performance. (We're not football fans but were rooting for the New Orleans Saints for obvious sentimental reasons.) By all accounts it was not up to par, and supposedly was not even close to the intensity they showed at the MSG Sept. 11th concert, shortly after the WTC tragedy.
But we have to take issue with the comments by former music industry shill turned contrarian, grumpy old man Bob Lefsetz, who goes off on The Who’s performance and then on classic rock in general; lumping Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey with Paul McCartney, U2, and The Stones in calling them all has-beens. (This is a new low for the trash-talking Lefsetz; if artists that can haul out 50,000 people to see them perform are has beens, who are the big stars? Lady GaGa? Please.) Aside from ragging on the physical age of these rockers—I don't hear anyone using that argument against Willie Nelson or Sonny Rollins, for instance—his biggest beef is that “[t]his music hasn’t mattered for a very long time. It’s truly classic. But it’s aged.” Well, yes. But that’s not the problem per se.
We don’t listen to classic rock radio unless were driving around with someone in their car. And whenever we do listen to classic rock radio, it’s the same tunes over and over: for example, instead of, say, “The Song is Over” or one of their other great deep album cuts, it’s one of The Who’s CSI songs; Jimi Hendrix has 3 official studio albums plus Band of Gypsys and plenty of posthumous releases, yet “Purple Haze” is on regular rotation. Of course these songs have lost much of their potency—they’ve been overplayed to death!
But there’s more to these artists than the 3 or 4 songs classic rock radio is stuck on. After all, the main reason why these artists are legendary and tens of thousands still show up to see them perform every night is quite obvious: a lengthy catalog of seminal tunes that will be around long after you, we, Bob Lefsetz and whatever nonsense the hipsters like this week have all departed from God’s green Earth.
But we have to take issue with the comments by former music industry shill turned contrarian, grumpy old man Bob Lefsetz, who goes off on The Who’s performance and then on classic rock in general; lumping Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey with Paul McCartney, U2, and The Stones in calling them all has-beens. (This is a new low for the trash-talking Lefsetz; if artists that can haul out 50,000 people to see them perform are has beens, who are the big stars? Lady GaGa? Please.) Aside from ragging on the physical age of these rockers—I don't hear anyone using that argument against Willie Nelson or Sonny Rollins, for instance—his biggest beef is that “[t]his music hasn’t mattered for a very long time. It’s truly classic. But it’s aged.” Well, yes. But that’s not the problem per se.
We don’t listen to classic rock radio unless were driving around with someone in their car. And whenever we do listen to classic rock radio, it’s the same tunes over and over: for example, instead of, say, “The Song is Over” or one of their other great deep album cuts, it’s one of The Who’s CSI songs; Jimi Hendrix has 3 official studio albums plus Band of Gypsys and plenty of posthumous releases, yet “Purple Haze” is on regular rotation. Of course these songs have lost much of their potency—they’ve been overplayed to death!
But there’s more to these artists than the 3 or 4 songs classic rock radio is stuck on. After all, the main reason why these artists are legendary and tens of thousands still show up to see them perform every night is quite obvious: a lengthy catalog of seminal tunes that will be around long after you, we, Bob Lefsetz and whatever nonsense the hipsters like this week have all departed from God’s green Earth.
2/08/2010
Long Live Rock? - Favorite Super Bowl Half Time Quote
"How many people out there are thinking, 'I didn’t know CSI had a band. Why are they old?'”
- On The Who's performance at the NFL's Super Bowl XLIV
Ouch!
- On The Who's performance at the NFL's Super Bowl XLIV
Ouch!
2/06/2010
Delco: Visionaries or Clowns?
Madrid-based rockers Delco, are celebrating the release of their second album Radiohead-style: inviting fans to pay what they please, but for their live shows rather than a disc. Basically, after the band's performance, you place in a container whatever amount of money you think the boys deserve for the show.
Good grief.
Listen, everyone should be able to do as they like with their music, but we’ve always felt the stage is where the audience rewards you for being in agreement with your music; they liked what they heard on your record and now want to peel off a couple of bills to see your perform said music.
But like everything, there are always those rodents hoping to take advantage and not pay for the efforts of others. (Hence music piracy.) That's why in these times, when recorded music sales represent a less than ever reliable source of revenue, it seems crazy to embark on a live pay-what-you-want situation. What's more, after years getting little or no financial remuneration to speak of, to pass around the hat once again seems somewhat ridiculous and reminds us of the saying about being "more of a papist than the Pope.”
However, in Delco’s specific case we see it more as 'gimmick' to attract people than otherwise. Particularly since these shows were to promote the release of the album and it's doubtful they’ll try this in a continuous manner on the road without a sponsor of some sort.
Meanwhile, here's a track from their debut:
Good grief.
Listen, everyone should be able to do as they like with their music, but we’ve always felt the stage is where the audience rewards you for being in agreement with your music; they liked what they heard on your record and now want to peel off a couple of bills to see your perform said music.
But like everything, there are always those rodents hoping to take advantage and not pay for the efforts of others. (Hence music piracy.) That's why in these times, when recorded music sales represent a less than ever reliable source of revenue, it seems crazy to embark on a live pay-what-you-want situation. What's more, after years getting little or no financial remuneration to speak of, to pass around the hat once again seems somewhat ridiculous and reminds us of the saying about being "more of a papist than the Pope.”
However, in Delco’s specific case we see it more as 'gimmick' to attract people than otherwise. Particularly since these shows were to promote the release of the album and it's doubtful they’ll try this in a continuous manner on the road without a sponsor of some sort.
Meanwhile, here's a track from their debut:
Robi Rosa - "Madre Tierra"
Unfortunately, he’s best known as the guy who wrote “Livin’ la Vida Loca”, “Shake Your Bon-Bon”, “The Cup of Life”, and the infamous William Hung vehicle “She Bangs” for his former Menudo bandmate Ricky Martin. But Robi Rosa is much more than that: his album Vagabundo [Sony-1996] is a dark rock and roll masterpiece sung in Spanish and one of the best albums of the decade in any language.
(If Alice in Chains' Dirt had been made by a romantic junkie poet with a feel for psychedelia, it would probably sound like Vagabundo.)
Here he is rockin’ out to Vagabundo’s first single and one of my favorite songs of his: “Madre Tierra” (Mother Earth) from the recent live album/DVD Teatro.
(If Alice in Chains' Dirt had been made by a romantic junkie poet with a feel for psychedelia, it would probably sound like Vagabundo.)
Here he is rockin’ out to Vagabundo’s first single and one of my favorite songs of his: “Madre Tierra” (Mother Earth) from the recent live album/DVD Teatro.
1/30/2010
Tower Records NYC Re-Opens (sorta)
Actually, it's a "multi-artist installation designed to look like a functioning record store, complete with record bins, cash registers, poster racks, large reproductions of fake album covers, and a statue of a record-store employee. The show includes artists...Exene Cervenka, a collaboration between Arturo Vega and the late Dee Dee Ramone, and Marilyn Minter," according to the Village Voice.
The exhibit will run thru Feb 13th from 12-7 PM Wed-Sun.
(Apparently the space has been vacant for so long the landlord is willing to let folks have art exhibits free of charge. Jeez...)
info:
http://nolongerempty.com/
The exhibit will run thru Feb 13th from 12-7 PM Wed-Sun.
(Apparently the space has been vacant for so long the landlord is willing to let folks have art exhibits free of charge. Jeez...)
info:
http://nolongerempty.com/
1980
Lately we’ve been discussing with friends the seemingly rapid passage of time and joking about whether a phone number or an e-mail address exists for one to lodge a complaint. And then the eventual realization we'd been subconsciously avoiding finally hits: 1980 was 30 years ago. Let that sink in for a second. Thirty. 3-0.
1980…in terms of music, the interesting thing about the first year of that decade was how certain pop music artists either released albums that were already distinctly ‘80s (The Cars, and The Police, among them); others were, in terms of production, decisive and distinctive sonic improvements over their previous releases (AC/DC, and Peter Gabriel, come to mind); or both (Hall & Oates). Personally, that year would be the beginning of a rich musical adventure that started with Van Halen’s Women and Children First and concluded with The Cure’s Disintegration 9 years later, with so many varied and wonderful stops along the way.
But of the many fine albums released in 1980 which we cherish—all of the discs released that year by those mentioned above are personal favorites, with the exception of The Cars’ Panorama; it’s OK, but not a saint of our devotion—there are two in particular whose 30th anniversary is a noteworthy occasion for us: The Police’s Zenyatta Mondatta, and The Pretenders’ self-titled debut.
The former has always been derided not only by the band itself (not enough time and too mush pressure to adequately put an album together, they say) but also, as an example of its negative standing among much of the press, Rolling Stone saw fit to single it out as the lone Police album not included in their list of "The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time". (We understand the now-barely listenable, adult contemporary-sounding, Sting-solo-album-in-disguise Synchronicity had the big hits and monster sales figures, but the filler-laden, Ghost in the Machine over Zenyatta? Really?!)
Meanwhile, the opening salvo by Chrissie Hynde and her killer band of co-horts was not just the best thing they ever did, it towers over the rest of their catalog. And in the majority of cases, dramatically so. (It is, after all, recognized as one of the greatest debut albums in rock history.) We remember exactly where we were the first time “Brass in Pocket” came on the radio, and we'll always be grateful to our then-new friend Mr. S for lending us the first three Police records in one shot, which we then proceeded to absorb in chronological order, gazing at each vinyl record as it spun on the turntable of our parents’ living room sound system, and culminating with Zenyatta.
Three decades on, not only do we still enjoy both of these discs, they have proven to be key components of our makeup as a musician and songwriter and continue to influence us to this day. But they also manage to insinuate themselves in interesting ways: Sting’s performance of “Driven to Tears” at the recent Haiti Relief telethon reminded us of how relevant and powerful that song remains; days later while imparting bass lessons to a student, we were surprised by how many of those Zenyatta songs we still remember how to play. Meanwhile, The Pretenders’ “The Wait” happens to be on the jukebox of one of our fave Brooklyn watering holes; every time it plays it’s like we're rocking to it for the first time. “Brass in Pocket” still makes us smile. And sing at the top of our lungs.
30 years…wow. 1980…Thanks for the tunes.
[Oh, and yeah smartasses, we're aware "Brass in Pocket" was a 1979 single...in the UK.]
1980…in terms of music, the interesting thing about the first year of that decade was how certain pop music artists either released albums that were already distinctly ‘80s (The Cars, and The Police, among them); others were, in terms of production, decisive and distinctive sonic improvements over their previous releases (AC/DC, and Peter Gabriel, come to mind); or both (Hall & Oates). Personally, that year would be the beginning of a rich musical adventure that started with Van Halen’s Women and Children First and concluded with The Cure’s Disintegration 9 years later, with so many varied and wonderful stops along the way.
But of the many fine albums released in 1980 which we cherish—all of the discs released that year by those mentioned above are personal favorites, with the exception of The Cars’ Panorama; it’s OK, but not a saint of our devotion—there are two in particular whose 30th anniversary is a noteworthy occasion for us: The Police’s Zenyatta Mondatta, and The Pretenders’ self-titled debut.
The former has always been derided not only by the band itself (not enough time and too mush pressure to adequately put an album together, they say) but also, as an example of its negative standing among much of the press, Rolling Stone saw fit to single it out as the lone Police album not included in their list of "The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time". (We understand the now-barely listenable, adult contemporary-sounding, Sting-solo-album-in-disguise Synchronicity had the big hits and monster sales figures, but the filler-laden, Ghost in the Machine over Zenyatta? Really?!)
Meanwhile, the opening salvo by Chrissie Hynde and her killer band of co-horts was not just the best thing they ever did, it towers over the rest of their catalog. And in the majority of cases, dramatically so. (It is, after all, recognized as one of the greatest debut albums in rock history.) We remember exactly where we were the first time “Brass in Pocket” came on the radio, and we'll always be grateful to our then-new friend Mr. S for lending us the first three Police records in one shot, which we then proceeded to absorb in chronological order, gazing at each vinyl record as it spun on the turntable of our parents’ living room sound system, and culminating with Zenyatta.
Three decades on, not only do we still enjoy both of these discs, they have proven to be key components of our makeup as a musician and songwriter and continue to influence us to this day. But they also manage to insinuate themselves in interesting ways: Sting’s performance of “Driven to Tears” at the recent Haiti Relief telethon reminded us of how relevant and powerful that song remains; days later while imparting bass lessons to a student, we were surprised by how many of those Zenyatta songs we still remember how to play. Meanwhile, The Pretenders’ “The Wait” happens to be on the jukebox of one of our fave Brooklyn watering holes; every time it plays it’s like we're rocking to it for the first time. “Brass in Pocket” still makes us smile. And sing at the top of our lungs.
30 years…wow. 1980…Thanks for the tunes.
[Oh, and yeah smartasses, we're aware "Brass in Pocket" was a 1979 single...in the UK.]
1/29/2010
This is a Dangerous Place! King Crimson: "Elephant Talk" / "Theja Hun Ginjeet"
Man...we still have the cassette tape on which a buddy recorded these songs for us over a quarter century ago!
Here is the ‘80s version of King Crimson—the extraordinary Adrian Belew, the great Tony Levin, the legendary Bill Bruford, and of course, the Master, Mr. Robert Fripp—on the ‘80s sketch comedy/variety show Fridays (SNL’s supposed competition although it would air the night before.)
Enjoy!
Here is the ‘80s version of King Crimson—the extraordinary Adrian Belew, the great Tony Levin, the legendary Bill Bruford, and of course, the Master, Mr. Robert Fripp—on the ‘80s sketch comedy/variety show Fridays (SNL’s supposed competition although it would air the night before.)
Enjoy!
1/28/2010
Foos Love the '70s
During the tours for their self-titled debut [Roswell-1995], The Color and the Shape [Roswell-1997], and There's Nothing Left to Lose [Roswell-1999], we saw the Foo Fighters live 5 times.
But after those first 3 albums only a handful of songs have managed to capture our interest; what they have done since then seems like a better version of Nickelback, nothing more. (And we never dug Dave Grohl's comedic / slapstick vibe, which absolutely ruined the video for "Everlong".)
But just when we thought we'd dispatched the Foos in a dusty trunk to the recesses of our musical attic, we come across this clip which manages to temporarily rekindle our allegiance to them with; this "fuck you" to the alleged unspoken rules of cuuent day concertgoing, ones that only metal bands care to confront to these days: Grohl and fellow guitarist Chris Schiffet face each other in a six-string duel; and Taylor Hawkins goes on an all out drum solo; all this as if it were 1972. Sweet.
But after those first 3 albums only a handful of songs have managed to capture our interest; what they have done since then seems like a better version of Nickelback, nothing more. (And we never dug Dave Grohl's comedic / slapstick vibe, which absolutely ruined the video for "Everlong".)
But just when we thought we'd dispatched the Foos in a dusty trunk to the recesses of our musical attic, we come across this clip which manages to temporarily rekindle our allegiance to them with; this "fuck you" to the alleged unspoken rules of cuuent day concertgoing, ones that only metal bands care to confront to these days: Grohl and fellow guitarist Chris Schiffet face each other in a six-string duel; and Taylor Hawkins goes on an all out drum solo; all this as if it were 1972. Sweet.
1/27/2010
A Girl Named Tim
Our new fave rock chick/crush of the year:
Tim Yehezkely, frontwoman for The Postmarks.
Check out her yumminess below.
Your welcome.
Tim Yehezkely, frontwoman for The Postmarks.
Check out her yumminess below.
Your welcome.
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