From 1966, please enjoy Napoleon the XIV and the B-side of his classic novelty hit "They're Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa!", the legendarily annoying "!aaaH-aH ,yawA eM ekaT oT gnimoC er'yehT."
Napoleon XIV - !Aaah-Ah, Yawa Em Ekat Ot Gnimoc Er'yeht .mp3
I don't know if I've told this story before, but Napoleon the XIV was the nom du disque of aspiring producer Jerry Samuels, who recorded the now infamous song as a demo while working as a staff engineer at Associated Studios, the very same recording complex where my high school garage band used to do all our demos (that history, in case you missed it, can be found here).
In any case, I wasn't there at the time, but some of the guys from the aforementioned garage band were in fact working in another room at Associated while Samuels was cobbling his hit together, and at one point he asked them to come in and do some random screaming around a microphone. Presumably, said screams were mixed down onto the final version of "They're Coming" that we all know and love, if that's the word.
As for the B-side, no less an authority than Springsteen biographer Dave Marsh has called it the "most obnoxious song ever to appear in a jukebox", adding that it once "cleared out a diner of forty patrons in three minutes flat."
I have no doubt that's true, but a coveted PowerPop No-Prize will be awarded the first reader who gleans the clip's relevance to the theme of tomorrow's Weekend Listomania nonetheless.
And speaking as we were last week of Brenda Lee's rather astonishing cover of "What I'd Say," (featuring Jimmy Page), British reader Walking Oliver was kind enough to send us an album anthologizing almost two dozen covers of the Ray Charles classic, ranging from the sublime to the surreal, and I thought I'd share.
Here's perhaps my favorite, by quintessential French yeh-yeh babe of the Sixties, the extremely adorable Sylvie Vartan.
Est-ce que tu le sais indeed. Let's just say that if I'd bumped into anybody who looked like that on my last two French vacations, I'd be posting this from the actual Paris rather than the Paris of the Tri-State Metropolitan Area.
From 1969, please enjoy the opening title track from Quicksilver Messenger Service's Shady Grove, featuring the inimitable piano stylings of the incredibly great Nicky Hopkins.
Did I say "inimitable"? Well, whatever, from four years later...
Seriously, I hadn't heard the Quicksilver song in a gazillion years, but I downloaded the album the other day and when "SG" came on you could have knocked me over with a feather. Granted, after that strikingly Minimalist instrumental opening it becomes a rather more traditional bit of Bo Diddley-influenced pop/blues/rock, but still -- I bet if you got Oldfield drunk he'd admit he at least owned a copy of Shady Grove at some point.
From their 1971 Message from the Country, please enjoy The Move -- featuring sepulchral-voiced drummer Bev Bevan -- and the faux Johnny Cash song to end all faux Johnny Cash songs, "The Ben Crawley Steel Company."
Bevan used that same Bizarro World basso profundo on some of the Move's 60s stuff, but I hadn't heard any of that when I first listened to Message, and frankly I was floored. A part of me still doesn't believe he actually sings like that without benefit of recording studio trickery. As for the song itself (by Move founding genius Roy Wood), it would be a hoot no matter what voice it was performed with; come to think of it, I'd love to hear it by a faux Neil Young.
From 1964 and Beatles For Sale, arguably the first great album in modern rock, please enjoy the once and future Fab Four and their exquisite version of Buddy's Holly's "Words of Love."
And from 1972, please enjoy Brinsley Schwarz, featuring the genius of Nick Lowe on bass, vocals and songwriting, and their equally exqusite (if perhaps less original) "Unknown Number."
That little guitar figure at the beginning of both songs certainly is versatile...
THE STORY: Nothing Can Hurt Me: The Big Star Story is a feature-length documentary about the massive acclaim, dismal commercial failure and enduring legacy of pop music’s greatest cult band, Big Star.
These two filmmakers are raising money for the documentary, and they're almost there! Minimum donation is $5, but even at a moderate $35, you start getting public television-style rewards, and some of them are very, very cool!
We're a community: let's help these kids out. I'm in on payday, I promise faithfully.
Well, it's Friday and you know what that means. Yes, my Oriental amanuensis-with-benefits Fah Lo Suee and I will be off to beautiful Sedona, Arizona, and the ranch of Sen. John McCain (R-Manhood in a Blind Trust). Once there, I'll spend as many hours as possible out on the street in front of the main house, haranguing potential undocumented aliens while dressed as the beloved 60s/70s cartoon commercial pitchman The Frito Bandito.
You know, just to be a prick about it.
That said, further posting by moi will be sporadic for a few days as a result.
But in the meantime, here's a fun little project for us all:
Best or Worst Post-Elvis Novelty or (Obvious Goof) Record!!!
No arbitrary rules of any kind this time, you're welcome very much. And yes, I'm pretty sure we've done this topic before, but I'm equally sure my nominees are mostly different this time. In any case, I doubt the Listomania Police will be after me.
"Good evening and welcome to Slaggers." A throwaway joke by the Fabs, but all involved cover themselves in glory -- in particular, Paul McCartney as the unctuous crooner and special guest Rolling Stone Brian Jones on lounge saxophone.
4. Buchanan and Goodman -- Flying Saucer Pt. 2
The second entry in the long-running series and on balance, I think, the funniest.
3. Albert Brooks -- Party in Outer Space
And years later, Buchanan and Goodman fan Brooks did his own Flying Saucer record, only instead of using snippets of actual hit records, he made up fake ones. "And whatever royalties this thing does earn, at least the checks are going to be coming to a Mr. A. Brooks and not some schmuck I don't even know." A work of genius.
2. The Police/Henry Mancini's Orchestra -- Peter Gunn/Every Breath You Take
One of those mashup records the kids seem to like so much, and committed for The Sopranos soundtrack album for no logical reason I can determine other than both songs are in the key of E. Or maybe there's some kind of irony I'm missing. In any case, it's obviously supposed to make you go "How clever!" but unfortunately it's just annoying.
And the Numero Uno you-can't-be-serious record of our time simply has to be...
1. "Weird Al" Yankovic -- Dare to Be Stupid
Most of Weird Al's parodies over the years have struck me as barely even sophomoric, but I remembered this Devo pastiche as being not just clever but actually a better Devo record than Devo themselves ever made. Having now listened to it for this first time in at least a decade, let me simply say -- uh, I was very wrong.
Alrighty, then -- and what would your choices be?
[Shameless blogwhore: My parallel Cinema Listomania -- theme: Best or worst art direction in a sci-fi movie -- is now up over at Box Office. As always, if you could see your way to going over there and being contentious, it would be, as my people say, a mitzvah. Thanks!]
From 1972, a better and nobler time to be sure, here's Her Nibs, Ms. Joan Baez, and the haunting revolutionary call-to-action anthem "Pull the Triggers, N***ers."
Okay, I don't think that was really Joan Baez. But I say, "right on sister!" to whoever it was. The people united will never be defeated!!!
In any case, as always, a coveted PowerPop No-Prize will be awarded to the first reader who gleans the clip's relevance to the theme of tomorrow's Weekend Listomania.
From 1958, here's Ann Cole and her remarkable answer to Muddy Waters, the rueful yet optimistic ode to female self-empowerment "I've Got Nothing Working."
To be honest, I'd never heard of Cole, or heard this record, until I chanced across it while websurfing yesterday morning, but according to my old colleague Bruce Eder over at All-Music Guide, Cole was a big deal in her day (voted Most Promising Female R&b Vocalist of 1956, actually). Not only that, this isn't even technically an answer to Muddy's record; it turns out Cole herself recorded "Got My Mojo Working" the same year as that award, and Muddy learned the song after seeing her perform it onstage.
Had Cole's version been a hit, of course, history might have been changed in unfathomable ways. Of Cole herself, alas, I can find no mention after the '50s.
From 1964, please enjoy once and future Little Miss Dynamite Brenda Lee and her reading of Ray Charles' "What I'd Say." Recorded in England, and featuring some guy named Jimmy Page on guitar.
As you can hear, that's transferred from vinyl; apparently, it's never been on CD. In any case, I'd never encountered it before last week and talk about a revelation; Lee sounds -- in Nick Tosches' immortal phrase -- like she could fry eggs on her G-Spot.
An idiosyncratic blog dedicated to the precursors, the practioners, and the descendants of power pop.
All suggestions for postings and sidebar links welcome, contact any of us.
