The Weekly Meat

How to Win Friends and Influence People

As summer rolls in, it's important we all brush up on the amateur musicianship that used to get us laid back in college.

You did play guitar in college, right?

Well, get the led out. Literally. Brain dump all those musty Led Zeppelin bits you learned back in high school. No one wants to hear your masterly picking on "Over the Hills and Far Away." There has only ever been one good use for Zeppelin (see Damone, Five-Point Plan), and even that is dated.

Alright. It's festival/backyard barbecue/family reunion season and you will be called upon to rally the troops, young and old. You'll need 45 minutes worth of tunes you can play and sing well. If you're lousy with lyrics, keep a sheaf of cheat sheets in your guitar case. The key is a varied repertoire in your vocal range, with no alternate tunings, and no more than a half-dozen chords.

Important!  Do not cater to children. Kids need to learn grown-up songs, not vice versa. Barney can go screw.

In compiling a solid playlist, you'll need at least one tune from the following dozen well-established musical genres:

Country: Let me be clear that I mean old-school country, not some nouveau radio-friendly crap sung by anyone remotely hot. The following are solid picks: Merle Haggard's "Mama Tried," Townes Van Zandt's "Pancho & Lefty," Jeff Walker's "I Feel Like Hank Williams Tonight," or the daddy of 'em all, Steve Goodman's David Allan Coe vehicle: "You Never Even Call Me By My Name." 

Folk: First, understand that folks were more patient for six- and seven-minute epics back in the coffee house days, but that dog don't hunt anymore. No one wants to hear you go prattling on about "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" or sit for all of "Tangled up in Blue," so keep it short. Dylan, John Prine, Gillian Welch, Josh Ritter, all fine choices.

Blues: You don't need to solo, but you do need to know your basic 12-bar 1-4-5. Rufus Thomas' "Walkin' the Dog" and Fats Domino's "I'm Walkin'" are brilliant tunes to get the house rocking.

Classic Rock: I've got a few, but (done well, mind you, not like this) nothing is easier or goes over better than AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long." (But for god's sake, if you insist on playing Led Zeppelin, do something like "Tangerine," because if I hear "Stairway to Heaven" I will break your guitar like Belushi.)

Indie Rock: Easy crowd-pleasers for the post-punk slacker moms and dads. "The Concept" by Teenage Fanclub, "Tennessee" by the Silver Jews, and the Pixies' "Here Comes Your Man."

Punk: No party is complete without some well-timed punk. Black Flag's version of "Louie, Louie," The Clash's "Death or Glory," Cock Sparrer's "England Belongs to Me." With the proper venom and snarl, these'll make them cough up a deviled egg.

Oldies: Gotta have a couple the AARP crowd knows the words to. Ricky Nelson's "Hello Mary Lou," Johnny Rivers' "Secret Agent Man," Buddy Holly's "Well... All Right."

A Capella: I know. But trust me — it's critical. It's the musical equivalent of golf's sand wedge. You've gotta have it in your bag for those times when you break a string, or are too drunk to keep time, or have to prove you actually can sing, or when you're night fishing for great whites. In fact, sea shanteys work like a charm in most instances, and at these trying times, give a nod to Quint and go with either "Show Me the Way to Go Home" or "Spanish Ladies" (incidentally, an excellent lullaby for kids). Another rollicking, sea-faring song with some teeth (and a "goddamn them all" chorus) is Stan Rogers' great "Barrett's Privateers," which I learned over a campfire ages ago at the Philadelphia Folk Festival.

Bluegrass: You need at least one tune to play with a banjo- or fiddle-toting friend. And if you don't have any friends who tote said instruments, you need to take a hard look at who you're hanging out with. I can't do a lick of real fingerpicking, but I can comp chords, and tunes like Hank Williams' "Jambalaya" or the Stanley Brothers' "Man of Constant Sorrow" work well.

Johnny Cash: You're damn skippy JC's a genre unto himself, and you best know a handful. "Folsom Prison Blues," "Ring of Fire," and "Tennessee Stud" for starters.

Songs about trains: No self-respecting musical hack can have a train-free repertoire — and not just so they can satisfy my train-crazed 4-year-old nephew (who is already familiar with the rail-heavy catalogs of Hank Snow and Jimmie Rodgers). I know maybe a dozen, but in a pinch, I'll take REM's "Driver 8," Roger Miller's "King of the Road," and Leadbelly's "Rock Island Line."

Songs about drinking: Give someone their first listen to Sonny Boy Williamson's classic "Sloppy Drunk Blues," or try to do justice to The Pogues' "Streams of Whiskey." It has a built-in party chorus and still sounds hella good after many rounds. For plenty more help with this genre, fumble your way over to the brilliant and encyclopedic Barstool Mountain.

Now, beyond all that, you've got to have a single go-to song — something short that you can do in any key, for any occasion, and at a moment's notice. That song should be a genre-buster; hitting several at once. The little banjo ditty Newman does in Cool Hand Luke ("Plastic Jesus") is a great place to start.

Dust off those fingers, boys and girls. It's time to go make an ass of yourself.

Mama Tried — Merle Haggard
Hello Mary Lou — Ricky Nelson
Barrett's Privateers — Stan Rogers
Streams of Whiskey — The Pogues

Double Numbers

Growing up, I was a bit obsessed with the jersey numbers of my favorite sports stars. No, let me rephrase that. In fact, I was so obsessed with jersey numbers that I sometimes chose my favorite players based on those numbers.

Early-'80s Philadelphia Flyers Ron Flockhart (11) — whose chief attribute was his inability to actually score after skating by all five on-ice opponents — and terminal AHL call-up Tommy Gorence (22) were not exactly stars, yet I followed them with keen interest.

When Wayne Gretzky came along, I thought I'd found numeric gold. He was a slight guy, but that "99" really filled out the back of his jersey. He was joined by Mario Lemieux (66), Ray Bourque (77), and Eric Lindros (88), among others, all of whom helped to popularize the higher double numbers in hockey — and all of whom were great players.

I've still have a bit of a quirky fascination with numbers. I have a gut feeling about them. Some give me an intrinsically positive vibe, and others a negative one. In any case (before I paint myself as too much of a rain man), I've always liked double numbers. Something about the symmetrical look of them, all divisible by 11. I don't know. For me, it's always been about sports, not math, or some new age numerology.

Anyway, as mockumentarian Marty DiBergi said in This Is Spinal Tap, "Enough of my yapping." This is a music post. "Let's boogie."

Motion the Eleven — Cornershop
22 Steps — Andy Stochansky
33 RPM Soul — Michelle Shocked
Forty-Four Blues/How Many More Years — Little Feat
Ol' 55 — Tom Waits
(Get Your Kicks On) Route 66 — Nat King Cole
1977 — The Clash
Rocket 88 — Jackie Brenston & His Delta Cats
Johnny 99 — Bruce Springsteen

Joe Strummer

I first came to The Clash with the their London Calling double LP. I bought it on cassette, and once I listened to it, I was hooked. I was a disaffected suburban youth with unclear ideas as to what I was fed up with and how to channel that anger. The Clash gave me a voice. I was fuzzy on the politics — I didn't know Andalucia from my arse — but I would drive around in my beater Honda Civic, shifting from third gear to fourth without the clutch, and playing songs like "Spanish Bombs," "Death or Glory," and "Koka Kola" over and over again, singing the lyrics loud, with a sneer and a trace of accent.

Every gimmick hungry yob digging gold from rock 'n' roll
Grabs the mic to tell us he'll die before he's sold
But I believe in this, and it's been tested by research
That he who fucks nuns will later join the church

A few years later, playing and singing in college bands, it was Joe Strummer's cool I tried (in vain) to channel.

We all have our musical heroes, and Joe is one of my very few who has stood the test of time. I appreciate and like what he did at every stage of his career. I can't say that about many. He neither grew old and fat, nor burned out, nor faded away. He and his music simply matured and changed — and did so in ways that I suppose I wanted to emulate in my non-musical life. And he was making damn good music straight up until the day he died December 22, 2002 at age 50 from a congenital heart defect.

The Clash was mostly reggae meets punk, but that's only the tip of Joe's musical influences, which in turn — and even now — opened my ears to new beats, new sounds, new attitudes. From rockabilly to electronica, hip hop, and world beat, the guy just plain had good taste in music. The songs he covered make a hell of a lineup: from Junior Murvin ("Police and Thieves"), Toots & the Maytals ("Pressure Drop"), and The Rulers ("Wrong 'em Boyo") to The Equals ("Police on My Back") to Professor Longhair ("Junco Partner"), The Bobby Fuller Four ("I Fought the Law"), the list goes on.

And he in turn influenced countless worlds of musicians, whether they realized it or not, some of my favorites among them. From The Specials and Operation Ivy to Stiff Little Fingers and The Alarm, Rancid and Green Day to (arguably) Chuck D and KRS-1. Again, the list goes on and is impressive.

Joe, You challenged us — musically, politically, emotionally. Thank god you visited; your music and its legacy rocks on.

 

The 101'ers — Keys to Your Heart (1975)
The Clash — Jail Guitar Doors (1978)
Joe Strummer — Love Kills (1986)
Joe Strummer & The Latino Rockabilly War — Jewellers & Bums (1989)
The Pogues — Whiskey in the Jar (1993; Joe as producer)
Joe Strummer & The Mescaleros — X-Ray Style (1999)
Joe guest DJ'ing on Hova's WFMU show (2001)
Joe Strummer & The Mescaleros — Coma Girl (2003)

Cowboy Mouth — Joe Strummer
Billy Childish — Joe Strummer's Grave
Stiff Little Fingers — Strummerville

Best. Concert. Ever.

The first concert I ever went to was to see The Kinks at the Philadelphia Spectrum, back in 1982. It was on their Give the People What They Want tour. Great show — but then again, I had little else to compare it to. It was undoubtedly an excellent show, but I've since seen others as good.

I think of myself as having very wide-ranging musical tastes, mostly rooted in alternative music (before "alternative" became mainstream fare), but with the exception of The Goats, this list of my top five shows seems incredibly mainstream. A longer list would require far too much rooting around my college-era memory cache — though offhand it would include folks like Superchunk, The Muffs, The Pogues, Billy Bragg, along with jazz cats Christian McBride and Brian Blade, Senegalese star Baaba Maal. I'd have to throw in a Dead Milkmen show. Maybe even Stevie Ray Vaughn a few weeks before he died. It'd start getting complicated.

That said, my top five, in sequential order only:

Bruce Springsteen — The Spectrum, Philadelphia, PA — September 1984
This was on the Born in the USA tour. Granted, a hair past late-'70s vintage, but the E Street Band was arguably at the height of its polish, and it's a tough show to beat. He came onstage right on time, no opening act, and played four hours straight, no breaks.

U2 — The Spectrum, Philadelphia, PA — April 1985
On the Unforgettable Fire tour. At some point, a fan tossed an Irish flag up on stage. Bono took it, he tore off the green section, ran to one side of the stage and threw it to the crowd. He then tore off the orange section, ran to the other side of the stage and threw it to the crowd. He was left with only the white section, which he held high and proclaimed to be the only flag that matters. Then, if memory serves, he blew his nose in it and sent that into the crowd as well. Bono had quite the mullet then, and his politics perhaps weren't quite as refined as they are now. In any case, excellent show. Again, I'd have loved to have seen them a few years before that, but I'm glad I got a chance to see them before their shows became bloated Rolling-Stones-like events.

Pearl Jam (w/Keith Richards) —  The Academy, NYC — December 31, 1992
This was a zeitgeist show. It was new year's eve, and my agent friend Ken scored us free tix. Pearl Jam opened this show for Keith Richards and the Inexpensive Winos, playing a tight hourlong set. Their first album was out, and the video for "Jeremy" had just blown up on MTV, so the audience was primed. We had actual seats upstairs, but as Pearl Jam came on, I handed my glasses, wallet, and flask (it was new year's, baby!) to my friends, and headed downstairs to the middle of the general admission mosh pit. It wasn't the Sex Pistols, or even Minor Threat, but I distinctly remember waking up the next morning and putting on my fairly new black Carolina steel toes. They were absolutely caked with the detritus of the pit: layers of sweat, beer, spit, snot, and blood.

The Goats — The Middle East, Cambridge, MA — September (?) 1993
One of the first shows I saw after I moved to Boston, and I went solo. Figures it would be a hometown Philly act. Another zeitgeist show. The Goats were an outstanding band that really captured the vibe of the early '90s. They were rappers with a punk rock aesthetic; a political conscience; incredibly dense, internally-rhymed lyrics; and great musical chops. The upstairs room at the Middle East is a weird space that was jammed with sweating fans. The energy was palpable and they did not disappoint. Years later, talking with Pierce and E.J. (guitar and bass, respectively), they told me they had always agreed that Middle East show was maybe The Goats' best ever.

Sonny Rollins — Berklee Performance Center, Boston, MA — September 15, 2001
Again, this one had a lot to do with timing. When I bought the tickets to this show for AKL's birthday, I could not have known its significance. I'd seen Sonny once before (also an excellent show), but this was to be a tonic for both audience and performers alike. It was just four days after the 9/11 attacks. Sonny had been at his apartment a few blocks from ground zero when the towers came down, and this was his first gig since. He spoke very little, but played for well over three hours, and blew the horn like a man half his age. It was at once a funeral, a therapy session, and a giant and heartfelt "fuck you" to the terrorists, and it felt great. P.S. An abridged (and in fact, bootlegged) recording of this show was later released (and won a Grammy).

Lemme know your top 5 in the comments. Have a think while you're listening:

Bruce Springsteen — "Candy's Room"
U2 — "Gloria"
Pearl Jam — "Corduroy"
The Goats — "¿Do the Digs Dug?"
Sonny Rollins — "Why Was I Born?"

For Your Holiday Listening Pleasure

A holiday music sampler, in no particular order.

Father Christmas - The Kinks
Outside of the "Heat Miser" song, my first "favorite" Christmas song as a kid. "Father Christmas, give us some money — we got no time for your silly toys..." Still classic.

Backdoor Santa - Clarence Carter
"The call me backdoor Santa. I make my runs about the break of day. I make all the little girls happy, while the boys are out to play." Nuff said. His "ho ho ho" may make you blush. Additional reason to love it: Its horn line supplies the hook for Run DMC's inimitable "Christmas in Hollis."

Fairytale of New York - The Pogues
God love the Pogues. Shane McGowan and Kirsty MacColl go toe to toe in brilliant hungover reverie. "Happy Christmas, your arse, I pray God it's our last...."

Christmas Wrapping - The Waitresses
Memo to self: If you're gonna be a one-hit-wonder, try not to make it a holiday song. Classic '80s trash pop.

Little Drummer Boy/Peace on Earth - Bing Crosby & David Bowie
In his final TV special, Bing Crosby teamed up with the Thin White Duke for this unlikely duet. Until the advent of iTunes, this one could cause me to leave on VH1 on Christmas day in the hopes I'd catch the video.

Feliz Navidad - Jose Feliciano
Maybe the best of the bunch. Jose knows how to work it, taking things up a notch with the switch to English for the choruses.

Mamacita - Guster
A much newer Spanglish entry by local Boston boys. Very cool tune.

Santa Claus is Back in Town - Elvis
Great opening, great execution. No one could sing about nothing the way Elvis could.

Sleigh Ride - The Ronnettes
Solid production from the Wall of Sound man off the excellent A Christmas Gift for You... album. My second favorite Ronnie Spector tune, after her cover of Johnny Thunders' You Can't Throw Your Arms around a Memory.

Run Run Rudolph - Chuck Berry
Worst lyrics of the bunch ("Run Run Rudolph... Randolph's not too far behind"???), and Chuck Berry may have played it while sleeping. Still, it manages to rock.

Adeste Fidelis (Oh Come, All Ye Faithful) - Choir of King's College
Almost any choir worth their pillar of salt can sing this one and it'll sound good. I worked for a small publisher many moons ago, and one year we put together some locally-produced Christmas songs for a Rudolph book. The recording of this song kicked ass. And half our staff was Jewish, I might add.

Which leads me to...

The Chanukah Song - Adam Sandler
Despite the fact that my Jewish brethren have written many of the quintessential Christmas songs (White Christmas, Rudolph..., O Holy Night, etc.), as yet, we have been able to come up with only one commercial Chanukah song, thanks to Adam Sandler's simple brilliance. "You don't need Deck the Halls or Jingle Bell Rock, 'cause you can spin a dreidel with Captain Kirk and Mister Spock (both Jewish)."

Lagniappe: Get your baker's dozen bonus track straight from the source. The Gurgling Cod has magnanimously posted Shonen Knife's excellent Space Christmas for you fans of Osaka bubblegum pop.