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Showing posts with label rock n' roll. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rock n' roll. Show all posts

December 6, 2019

1980s Jerry Lee Lewis, #NickTosches, @rxgau Robert Christgau “The finest rockstar bio ever.” Robert Christgau 1982 villagevoice tag/nick-tosches

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Nick Tosches

“The finest rockstar bio ever.” -






Both Tosches and Robert Palmer, au­thor of another current Jerry Lee Lewis bio, have taken a different route to the rockbook in the past: the pop text. Not surprisingly, neither elected to cover rock and roll per se — unless you count Sound Effects. Nik Cohn’s Rock from the Begin­ning, a history published more than half the music’s lifetime ago, remains the only honorable attempt at that Sisyphean undertaking ever essayed by an individual acting alone. Tosches’s 1977 Country: The Biggest Music in America is pure gonzo scholarship, so outrageous that I felt let down when jacket copy that began


“If you’re looking for a cogent, comprehensive history of America’s most popular music…” didn’t continue “…then steal Bill C. Malone from the library, sucker.”


Alter­nating garish anecdotes, many apocryphal and several completely made up, with the kind of catalogue-number fanaticism only record collectors can read without artificial stimulants, Country attempts to prove that America’s most conservative popular music is in fact its most radical. Where Marxist George Lipsitz makes a similar case by doggedly documenting the music’s class origins and consciousness, Tosches’s book is all fucking and fighting and getting high. As history, it’s partial and absurdly distorted. But as vision, it’s hilarious and instructive, a perfect rockbook combo; it’s not the key to country music, but it breaks down some doors.

Palmer’s Deep Blues, published in 1981 and just out in paper from Penguin, is something else entirely — the best book available on a subject that’s always in­spired passionate erudition. Although I’m not enough of a blues scholar to attest unequivocally to its originality or ac­curacy, I guarantee its scope, coherence, and grace. Tracing the blues back to Will Dockery’s plantation in northwestern Mis­sissippi, where in the 1890s guitarist Henry Sloane (teacher of Charley Patton, student of ??????) was heard to play something damn similar, Palmer follows the tradition to its international present with an admirable sense of proportion (except when he overplays his good source Robert Junior Lockwood).


Because Delta blues is his sub­ject, he barely touches on the East Texas strain, but that’s regrettable only because he would have made such a good job of it. He completes his self-appointed task su­perbly, especially the stopover in Chicago with Muddy Waters and his numerous nephews. This is a pop text, yes, but it’s also where to start exploring the source of all rock and roll. A rockbook and then some.

Palmer’s critical virtues have always been on the ethnomusicological side — he appreciates madness, style, and sleaze, but he’s never shown any inclination to in­corporate them into his writing. So for the same reason that the star lecturer isn’t always the life of the faculty party, it’s no surprise that Palmer brings off a history with more pizzazz than a quickie. 

His Jerry Lee Lewis Rocks! began its life in 1980 as a memorable Rolling Stone profile, but stretched out for the rockstar bio people at Delilah, it’s little more than the usual excuse for photographs (many of which are wonderful). Sure the facts are here, as well as a lot of historical back­ground and a few authorial reminiscences that Bangs always made a specialty­ — Palmer grew up in Little Rock and had his life changed, he says, by “Whole Lot of Shakin’ Going On.” But he doesn’t seem to put a whole lot of thought, or heart, into his thesis that “maybe rock and roll can save souls as well as destroy them.” And while in Deep Blues he applies his musical expertise to one of the key enterprises of all rock criticism — establishing the techni­cal brilliance of inspired primitives — he never does the same for Jerry Lee’s pump­ing piano, surely one of the great instrumental signatures. 

Too bad — I would have liked him to parse those boogie rolls.

January 30, 2019

Rock n Roll, Country 7-11 Slurpee® Cups 1970s


Rock n Roll, Country 7-11 Slurpee® Cups 1970s


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7-eleven Slurpee® cup features Alice Cooper
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Mac Davis, B.T.O., Merle Haggard, Edgar Winter, Paul Williams, Johnny Cash, Anne Murray, Charlie Rich, Johnny Mathis, Glen Campbell, Neil Sedaka, Bo Donaldson and the Haywoods, Average White Band, Billy Preton, J.Geils Band, Freddy Fender, David Essex and The De Franco Family

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All cups are in very nice condition except for Mac Davis is cracked, The De Franco Family has a piece missing on the bottom rim, and Charlie Rich was small piece missing on bottom rim.




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Vintage 7-11

Marshall Tucker Band

Slurpee Cup 1970s

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November 9, 2008

Nashville Pussy - A review

NASHVILLE PUSSY

What can I say?
Nuthin.

Oh well- yes I can.

Last year we walked in late to their opening set at that Horton Heat show. We vowed then & there that we'd see 'em again.

Parade magazine will never feature them. Wayne Cochran is your mother compared to them. Wait, Stiv Bators is your mother compared to them.
They will never be lying on their death beds asking themselves "What was that all about?"
Their show is a full-on 100% Screaming Mimi (or screaming Meemie) assault on the very existence of rock n' roll. If they worked in a grocery store, You'd be greeted at the door, every item would be exactly where it belonged with the right prices, the floors would be immaculate and the produce fresh, and you would zoom through checkout. That's how hard they work. Like hard workin' bastards, who are forestalling their executions by playing for the Governor.

The staging is flawless: they look at each other, and blast! things happen right on cue. The drama don't stop. It's intuitive but looks well thought out.

The last song, Ruyter tore the strings off her guitar - when I asked Blaine how she manages to do that, he replied, "Hey she's got great chops."

Amen.

Phonecam doesn't do it justice, obviously, & I lost 2 closeups while talking to band members (forgot to hit save) so I have adulterated, to give an impression. Maybe successful.






Special show treat: Blaine sings Ace of Spades with Reverend Horton Heat



Go.