Davy Jones (1945 – 2012)
Posted: 02.29.2012 Filed under: 2012, Davy Jones, obituary, The Monkees Leave a comment »
Back in the mid-90s, Nick At Nite would have themed nights throughout the summer – Bewitched Wednesdays, Addams Family Fridays, that kind of thing. One of the greatest memories was watching The Monkees with my sister and our friend Emily; being subjected to the zany 1960s comedy was a great thing for my tweenage self, and even though I didn’t get a lot of the references, I remember having a ball the entire time. Then afterwards, my sister, Emily, and I would go outside and play in the neighborhood until it was too dark and we were called in.
My musical tastes blossomed throughout the ’90s, and when I finally opened my ears to bands other than the Beatles and Queen, the Monkees was one of the first. While driving down to Ocean City, Maryland, one summer, my dad played Headquarters from start to finish, and it remains not only my favorite Monkees album, it’s quite high up on my list of all-time favorite albums in general.
I was legitimately saddened to hear about Davy Jones’ death from a heart attack today. 66 is extraordinarily young, but he appeared to have led a good life – even if he was famously curmudgeonly about wanting to tour with the Monkees again. But their tour last year was well-received, and there’s no denying that he was a natural showman.
So here’s to you, Mr. Jones, for all the wonderful songs you contributed to, whether as vocalist, producer, or maracas-shaker. Thanks for the zaniness – and the music.
Deadlines Go Whoosh – For Real, This Time
Posted: 03.10.2011 Filed under: 2011, and so on, announcement, apologia, obituary, of interest, Queen, Queen + Paul Rodgers, self-indulgence, writing endeavors Leave a comment »As I’ve mentioned elsewhere on this blog, my non-Sound Round writing endeavors have been increasing steadily over the past few months, and while that was simply down to personal aspirations and goals established either based on conversations with friends or completely arbitrarily, things have just gotten real.
Back in 2007, I published a book called Queen: Complete Works, which sold well but wasn’t promoted all that much. Frankly, I was glad, because while I’m extraordinarily proud of the fact that one of my dreams came true, it was an exhausting process and the last thing I ever wanted to do was to write another book. Of course, that’s changed, and all I want to do nowadays is write; I suppose I figured that if the book wasn’t a success, I wouldn’t have to put myself through that process again. But then, after awhile, I realized I actually missed that process, and so went on to subject myself to more torture by working steadily on a similar book on Elvis Costello’s music.
And so things puttered along nicely, and I genuinely believed that my first book would remain a true rarity, never to be reprinted, until earlier this week. This year is Queen’s 40th anniversary, and also marks 20 years since Freddie Mercury departed this mortal coil, and, sensing a golden opportunity, the publishing company I’m working with now contacted me to announce their intent to run a second edition of Queen: Complete Works. This is especially exciting to me, because this is a new (to me) company and a fresh start with a book that is in dire need of an update.
What does this mean for me? Well, I have a tight deadline to work with again, and the fire has been lit under my ass; I have four months to get this presentable and ready to go, meaning a lot of other hobbies have to take a backseat. This, unfortunately, includes my blogging activities, and, because Sound Round gets most of my attention these days, it also means I’ll now be paying the least amount of attention to it. (Reason being is, I’m already writing extensively about music, so any other blogs I may have will be a nice distraction from that.)
This means I’m leaving several projects in the lurch, most importantly the continuation of my Best of 2010 list, but also concert reviews for the Dum Dum Girls show I saw last weekend, and upcoming concerts for the Pains of Being Pure at Heart (March 31st), Elvis Costello (May 19th), and possibly Weezer (May 20th). I’m trying to get my girlfriend to write these reviews for me, but she has so far been reluctant to do so. (Don’t worry, I’ll work on her.)
But don’t cry for Sound Round, faithful viewers, for it will be back – all in good time. For now, I wish you a fond farewell.
Richie Hayward (1946 – 2010)
Posted: 08.13.2010 Filed under: 2010, Little Feat, obituary Leave a comment »Yesterday, while driving from our vacation spot in Cape Cod down to Harwich so that dad could check out a kite store, I was looking through a bunch of his CDs and decided that the perfect driving music would be Feats Don’t Fail Me Now. It was a gorgeous mid-August day, and with the windows down and the music blaring, I sat in the backseat with a grin on my face as I sang along to those timeless Feat tunes.
“Who is this?” my backseat companion, a septuagenarian named Carol, asked me.
“Little Feat,” I responded.
“Oh, I like them a lot,” she said. “I think my son would like them.”
I immediately went into Mr. Music Recommender mode. “Oh, absolutely. You should start with Waiting For Columbus, and then next get Sailin’ Shoes and Dixie Chicken, and then go on to…”
I’ve known of Little Feat for most of my life. My parents both adore them, and my dad has seen them many, many times over the years. (He’s out for a bike ride now, or else I’d ask him the exact number.) He told me how he and his brother were out in Montana a few years ago, visiting their other brother, and just happened to stumble upon a tiny little lodge, where who else but Little Feat were playing. This well-known jam band played a set for 100 people that night, and he was so close that he could smell the flesh from Paul Barrere’s fingers sliding up and down the fretboard.
It was inevitable that I’d become a Feat fan – perhaps not as intense as my parents, but enough so that they’d have some meaning to me. (Whereas a band like, say, the Black Crowes, whom I love, don’t resonate quite the same with me as Little Feat.) Lowell George was one of those tragic heroes that you knew wouldn’t live forever, and you could tell in his songs that he wasn’t long for this world, but he was enjoying himself that much more while he had the time. Once Feat went on to jazz-fusion excursions, George lost interest; he died in 1979 while on a solo tour, and Feat, who had broken up a few months prior, worked on George’s final recordings, released later that year as Down On The Farm. They reformed in 1988 and had a new lease on life with various lead singers and a rotating cast of guest musicians, but there was no way they could match their first life this time around.
Founding member Richie Hayward, easily one of the most inventive drummers that I’ve ever heard, joined Lowell George yesterday, when he succumbed to liver cancer that had been plaguing him for at least a year. Feat are currently on tour in England, with Hayward’s drum tech, Gabe Ford, taking his place, a position that he – and the rest of Feat – had hoped would only be temporary. Sadly, this is not the case, and I can’t imagine what Paul Barrere, Bill Payne, Kenny Gradney, Sam Clayton, and everyone else in the Feat family is feeling at this horrible time.
Scores of obituaries and condolences have been cropping up on the Internet, with Feat’s Facebook page inundated with comments from grieving fans. (This touching obituary from the Guardian is among my favorites so far.) I can think of no other better tribute today, however, than to listen to their catalog in chronological order. Excuse me, I think I need a bit of ‘Snakes On Everything’ to begin my day.
Rock on, Richie. Feats don’t fail me now.
Pete Quaife (1943 – 2010)
Posted: 06.25.2010 Filed under: 2010, obituary, The Kinks Leave a comment »Dave Davies announced on his official site, which was later picked up by the Marquee Blog, that original Kinks bass guitarist Pete Quaife has died of kidney failure.
He wasn’t flashy like John Entwistle, nor was he a songwriter of note, like Paul McCartney, but he was always there in the background, along with drummer Mick Avory, grinning wildly and plucking his bass with ease. He laid down a thick, fat rhythm that was designed to get your ass up and moving, always complementing the story but never taking attention away from Ray Davies’ wry lyrics or Dave Davies’ howling, good-time rock’n'roll nature.
There had been rumors for years that the original line-up of the Kinks would get back together, and Quaife was always amenable to a reunion. Sadly, that will never be now. He had the right attitude; he was always happy to speak of his time with the band, and looked back on his brief but whirlwind period of time with the Kinks (from 1963 to 1969) with fondness.
‘Days’ is my absolute favorite Kinks song, and even though Dave Dalton (their second bassist, and Quaife’s replacement) is in this video, Quaife played bass on the original recording.
All I can say is that life is too short for petty squabbles and arguments. Thank you for the days, indeed.
Alex Chilton (1950 – 2010)
Posted: 03.18.2010 Filed under: Big Star, obituary Leave a comment »Pitchfork Media – and the rest of the music news outlets, I suppose – has reported that Alex Chilton, founder of, vocalist, and guitarist for Big Star, died yesterday of a possible heart attack. Chilton was set to perform with the recently reunited (and, as I wrote elsewhere, criminally underrated) Big Star at SXSW this weekend.
Sound Round goes bye-bye
Posted: 10.31.2009 Filed under: and so on, announcement, obituary, of interest, something completely different 2 Comments »Greetings, readers. You may have noticed I have been writing far less in this blog, and that is entirely the fault of a crazy little thing called work. I have about a dozen started drafts just waiting to be finished, but I’m going to abandon them and close down Sound Round.
But wait! There is a consolation.
This is only temporary, as I have decided to partake in something called NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month, where aspiring writers take the month of November to write a 50,000 word novel.
That’s only 1,666.67 words a day. I figure I can handle that.
We’ll see if this ever gets off the ground; as a wannabe novelist, the prospect of writing a novel in a month is pretty exciting. Maybe I’ll get through the first day and realize what a mistake it is, or I’ll discover that I’m not much of a writer and get so frustrated that I become unmoored from reality forever, spending the rest of my days wandering in a state of delusion – even more so than I already do. Or maybe my novel will be such a hit that I become the Next Big Thing, appearing on talk shows and cutting ribbons and opening ceremonies, throwing out first pitches, that kinda thing.
Or maybe I’ll just take it for what it is: a bit of fun and a chance to extend myself as a writer. Yeah, I think I’ll go with that.
So from November 1st to the 30th, Sound Round will not exist as I immerse myself in this writing project.
Have a good month, and when I return, I’ll be ready and raring to go with even more album reviews for your pleasure.
Michael Jackson (1958 – 2009)
Posted: 06.25.2009 Filed under: 2009, Michael Jackson, obituary Leave a comment »
I can’t claim to be a fan of Michael Jackson’s – musically speaking, he’s brilliant; in terms of his personal life, well, that’s another story – but his death earlier today came as a huge shock. The impact he had on pop music and culture is unfathomable and insuperable, comparable only to that of The Beatles and Elvis Presley. And while his recorded output in the past 20 years or so had slowed down considerably, and bordered on the questionable at times, there’s no denying that Off The Wall, Thriller, and Bad (and maybe even Dangerous, depending on who you talk to) are classics, and rightfully gave him the title of King of Pop.
Forget about his downright bizarre and, at times, laughable behavior – at least for now. Just remember him for being an undisputed genius of pop.
Barenaked Ladies (1989 – 2009)
Posted: 02.27.2009 Filed under: Barenaked Ladies, obituary Leave a comment »
By mutual agreement, Steven Page will be parting company with the remaining members of Barenaked Ladies. Jim Creeggan, Kevin Hearn, Ed Robertson, and Tyler Stewart will continue recording and touring together as Barenaked Ladies. Steven Page will pursue solo projects including theatrical opportunities while the band enters the studio in April 2009, and hits the road in the fall.
Page says “These guys are my brothers. We’ve grown up together over the past twenty years. I love them and wish them all the best in the future.”
The band also wish Steven well in all of his endeavors. Ed Robertson says: “It’s the start of a new chapter for all of us. Here’s to the future!”
Everyone is looking forward to making new music and thanks their fans for their support.
Source: Official BNL website
Mitch Mitchell (1947 – 2008)
Posted: 11.15.2008 Filed under: obituary Leave a comment »Think of some of the most influential rock drummers in history. You’ve got your Moons, your Bonhams, your Starrs, even your Bakers, but let us not forget one of the most savagely underrated skin-smackers to have come out of the mid-1960s: Mitch Mitchell.
His star shone brightly as a collective part of the Jimi Hendrix Experience, though he (and bassist Noel Redding) were relegated to mere sidemen, earning a meager salary while Hendrix received most of the attention, fame, accolades, and finances. Redding famously clashed with Hendrix over this (and many other things), though Mitchell was more amicable and developed an instant rapport with Hendrix onstage, honing a key instinct that allowed the two of them to feed off each other.
Mitchell was rooted deep in jazz, citing Elvin Jones, Max Roach, and Joe Morello as his most influential drummers, and he brought this sensibility to the Experience, often sounding like a jazz drummer on acid. He combined the wild unpredictability that Keith Moon would later perfect with the rock-steady strictness that John Bonham would become renowned for, making the listener instantly turn his or her head once Mitchell was heard. Instead of just keeping a steady ’1-2-3-4‘ beat, Mitchell would roll around his set with relative ease, leaving imitators’ jaws agape wondering just how the hell he was doing that.
It would be hyperbole to say that his career died when Hendrix did, for he went on to record and tour with the likes of Jeff Beck and Jack Bruce, though he wasn’t able to achieve the same degree of success as he did between 1966 and 1970, and wound up in semi-retirement toward the end of the 1990s. Recently, he was part of the Experience Hendrix tour, performing with (among others) Buddy Guy, Kenny Wayne Shepherd, David Hidalgo, and Brad Whitford, and played his last show with them on November 7th in Portland, Oregon. Five days later, just prior to returning home to England, he was found dead of apparent natural causes at the age of 59. He was the last surviving member of the Experience, with Redding dying in 2003 from cancer.
I can think of no other perfect honor to his memory than to listen to ‘Bold As Love’, the almost-title track of the Experience’s psychedelic-infused sophomore album, released in 1967. It starts off simply enough, but once the false ending fades away and Mitchell’s drumming kicks in for the extended instrumental coda, it’s a performance that many drummers – myself included – have tried to emulate but weren’t ever quite able to pull off convincingly enough. The same can be said of much of his work: amusingly simple upon first listen, but astoundingly difficult upon execution by even the most seasoned of musicians. I more or less gave up trying to play his stuff, not being a strict timekeeper of a (or, one could argue, a “good”) drummer, and instead focused on the free-range lunacy of Keith Moon.
If there’s a rock ‘n’ roll heaven, we can take solace knowing now that the Experience has finally reunited. What a hell of a show that must be.
