#639: celia cruz & the fania all-stars - guantanamera rehearsal (zaire, 1974)
james brown struggles and sweats, then celia cruz struts and sways. her effortlessness is something from a greek myth. it is inhuman.
and when an audience is actually in front of her, brains will whirl into the cosmos.
#638: james brown - try me (1974, zaire)
the song is a wedding cake, the album cover is a silver platter, and james brown’s acappella astrological breakdown at the end of his performance in zaire ‘74 is icing: “baby!” he says. “yeah,” grunt the backup singers. “can i call her? baby! woman! gemini! scorpio! pisces! libra! virgo! cancer! aries! sagittarius! capricorn! leo! taurus! walk with me!” it’s the best horoscope in the history of zodiac.
there isn’t another album i’ve listened to more this year. if i were the tattooing type i’d get either “greatest accordion jive hits, vol. 3!” or the album cover on my raging biceps.
hat tip to the wonderful electric jive.
#607: boston - more than a feeling (1976)
late at night, when the moon is shining and the down comforter is pulled up tight, there are certain dreams that every young new york financial reporter entertains from time to time. one of them is to get the chance to discuss mid-70s classic rock with cnbc star jim cramer, whose booyas resound nightly on mad money.
that dream came true for me yesterday, when mr. cramer tweeted, “bumping out with steve miller’s take the money and run—suggest some tunes you want me to use!!!”
then a little while later he said, “some excellent song suggestions. badfinger! wow, how about fog hat!”
(there was also a public enemy tweet that is too amazing too repeat here.)
i responded: “shame on you, foghat is one word.”
“max, i stand corrected,” he replied. “but you too young to know foghat!!!!!!”
fin.
#598: 1910 fruitgum company - 1-2-3 red light (1968)
you’d be grinning too if you’d written the greatest chorus in the history of hooks.
#554: emmylou harris & ricky skaggs - hello stranger (live, 1980)
would you rather be a.p. carter or ricky skaggs? there are benefits to both. on the one hand your full name would be alvin pleasant delaney carter, you’d be the patriarch of the carter family, and johnny cash’s father-in-law’s brother, plus you’d be able to write songs like this one. but on the other hand if you’re ricky skaggs you get to play the mandolin, have a mean mustache, and sing harmony with emmylou harris on a.p. carter songs.
#548: rod stewart and the faces - bad ‘n’ ruin (1971)
if this day doesn’t end with the acquiring of the toilet-lid-with-trailing-toilet-paper-shaped electric guitar that ronnie wood plays in this top of the pops clip, then the whole thing will have been a complete and total failure. i might as well not have gotten out of bed.
#544: three dog night - mama told me not to come (live, 1973)
the three best live versions of three dog night’s cover of randy newman’s mama told me not to come are basically anti-drug commercials. this version from 1973 is obviously about the dangerous matching of floral patterned shirts with vests that cocaine causes, 1970’s performance from the war memorial auditorium in rochester warns against heroin’s thick and monochromatic heaviness, and a televised show from the same year should be forced upon all pill-popping teenagers when they’re caught rummaging through dad’s medicine cabinet to prove what kinds of green and yellow bell-bottoms you wear when amphetamines take over your brain. still, that is one delectable electric keyboard riff.
#510: little richard - jenny jenny and send me some lovin’ (1966)
semi-shirtless and sweaty little richard in paris in 1966 is like prince in new york in 1980 multiplied by baudelaire in a bathroom in 1851. the version of send me some lovin’ recorded in england two years earlier wasn’t bad, but this one single-handedly halved citywide reports of male impotence for an entire year.
new york city still has a james j. kriegsmann photo studio on ninth avenue above 55th street, but it doesn’t have facial expressions, tailoring, haircuts, postures, mustaches, or bow ties like this anymore. smokey robinson & the supremes would make for a very good tattoo.
#490: idoli - ime da da (1981)
what the world needs now is much less war and much more serbian postpunk with fuzzy guitars, indecipherable lyrics, mustaches, glowing cubes, and turtlenecks.
#469: crosby, stills, nash & young - only love can break your heart (1970)
david crosby’s early-70s mustache ≥ neil young at the bbc in 1971 ≥ being able to play the stand-up bass while smoking ≥ csny’s harmonies ≥ crazy horse ≥ neil young’s torn jeans ≥ down by the river ≥ being able to sing with joni mitchell and the band while drugs are on your face ≥ the “i have a friend” verses in only love can break your heart. see here for proof.
when you’re mott you’re hot, and when you’ve got piano keys on your jacket lapel you’re mott the hoople’s morgan fisher.
