The Sky Is Crying or George Thorogood & The Delaware Destroyers risk life and limb for a good time.

April 20, 2015 / ds barrett / Leave a comment

It’s August 1985 and the news in Toronto is all about the possibility of it raining on Bruce Springsteen who is touring the biggest album on the planet – Born In The USA. Thing is, the rain arrives a day early, and the CNE Grandstand has a totally different show going on that night. George Thorogood and the Destroyers with Johnny Winter opening are set to perform.

Drew and I left from the pool I lifeguarded at in total sunshine and headed down to the Canadian National Exhibition grounds with tickets that put us only seven rows from the stage. With some sense of over geeky enthusiasm I remarked how it looked like the rain would hold off. Drew, always the master of understated sarcasm raised an eyebrow glanced at the sky and shook his head in that “you don’t know your ass from a hole in the ground” way.

Johnny Winter hits the stage and the wind picks up. His set is phenomenal as his hands fly all over the neck of his guitar. I had known he was good, but WOW! This was damn impressive. He left the stage as the sun dipped out of site in the west and some dark clouds started to roll in quickly from the south.

Thorogood and the destroyers took the stage and started rocking out right away. I wish I could remember the setlist, but it was thirty years ago. What I do remember is that about 30 minutes into the set, the sky opened up and the rain drops were the size of quarters. The wind was blowing the water right into stage.

A drenched Thorogood looked out into the crowd as his band tried to step further towards the back of the stage and hollered “Does anyone want to hear some blue?” and the crowd replied with cheers. He broke into “The Sky Is Crying” and he just didn’t stop. Between songs a guitar tech would hand him a dry guitar and into another song he would go. The crowd was having a fantastic time and no one was leaving. The band that had initially tried to find shelter further down stage came forward and challenged Mother Nature to a duel. Over 90 minutes in the rain and they just kept playing until the damn sky cleared… and then, they did encores.

By all rights, Thorogood could have stopped the show and probably should have. Electric guitars and rain don’t mix, but this “nut job” musician was committed to putting on a great rock ‘n’ roll show, and he succeeded beyond the crowds wildest dreams.

In later years my taste in music changed and George got less and less of my time on the stereo, but when people would talk about the best concerts they ever went to, this still sits as the #1.

On Record Store Day Thorogood re-released his debut album, except in a way never before heard. It was originally recorded without a bass guitar. Initially the destroyers billed themselves as “the original five-piece trio” and this record reflects that. It is a trip to hear “One Bourbon, One Scotch and One Beer”, “Madison Blues” and “Ride On Josephine” as they were done in those first recordings back in the mid-seventies.

Anyway, I haven’t found an amount issued, but it is limited and on blue vinyl. I still saw copies kicking around on Sunday, but I wouldn’t wait if you’re interested.

My Story of RSD 2015 or Insanity Blooms Eternal

April 19, 2015 / ds barrett / 1 Comment

Over ninety minutes early and the line is more than one hundred deep. The old roomy and I meet and catch up as some dude directly in front of us chain tokes his way into the sonic abyss that is Record Store Day 2015. Music geek conversations drift through the air only interrupted by my backfiring joke at the length of the line.

“Maybe everyone is here to pick up that One Direction record…”

“I am!” says the woman just two people ahead. Her boyfriend starts laughing at my dumbfounded look.

I think to myself “I haven’t actually met a One Direction fan over the age of twelve” but I hold my tongue; after all, it isn’t even 9AM and pissing people off shouldn’t happen so early on a weekend.

The line moves forward in a civilized manner, which seems rather odd considering that I’ve had vinyl literally rain down upon my head during past RSD’s. Seriously, it is an odd sensation when a bunch of seven, ten and twelve inch records start smacking your cranium. Mild pain followed by anger and a quick burst of panic because you just don’t want any of this very sweet vinyl to get broken.

As usual, there is that group of people trying to look through the bins of records while the people behind them are giving them the “pick your record and get the fuck out my way” stare. It would be amusing if I wasn’t trying to get my hands on the same record as … well, the guy in front of me who just grabbed the last Otis Redding record that my fingers were reaching for. Fortunately, I do get my hands on some of the stuff I wanted.

The White Stripes – Get Behind Me Satan in gatefold cover with coloured red and white 180 gram vinyl

The Dandy Warhols – Eponymous – first time on vinyl in double gatefold cover and white vinyl to boot

George Thorogood & the Delaware Destroyers debut without bass as it was originally recorded. Also on blue vinyl

Ride – OX4: The Best of – In glorious 180 gram red vinyl with a double gatefold cover

Yeah I missed out on Social Distortion, Joan Jett, Small Faces and as mentioned, Otis Redding, but still had a pretty good time despite the competition and jockeying for best vinyl position. I jump into the vehicle and head for the elderly mall on the west side of the city figuring maybe I could grab some of what I lost out on. When I arrive the employees are praying mallrats will finish the free coffee they had for their customers. I manage to pick up a couple of the 7 inch’s I missed out on, namely Alex Chilton’s “Jesus Christ” and the Lemonheads/Gram Parsons split “Brass Buttons” on pink vinyl.

Now, I’m looking at the clock and considering the likelihood of finding a few things at some record stores I’ve never tried before.

Do I really want to spend more?

It’s the best haul I’ve managed but the little music geek in the back of my brain is whispering, “find more… you must find more…”.

Then I remember, I have stuff on the way… other awesome pieces of vinyl in transit from places abroad.

Afterall, if you look around in the right places, any day can be a record store day. Yeah, right, who am I kidding, I’m heading to another record store.

Driven to Far: An Autobiographical Music Review – Dark Night of the Soul – Sparklehorse & Danger Mouse

March 9, 2015April 13, 2015 / ds barrett / 3 Comments

Driving

I suppose I could have added up the kilometres, but that information wasn’t relevant.

Distance

Doesn’t have a goddamn thing to do with how far you have travelled.

Locked in thoughts of where you were and where you’re going without the benefit of perspective. Each moment passing without the ability to reflect on it, because time passes and you can’t grasp it. Words linger without being able to wrestle them to the ground and beat them for information.

Instead there is only me, the kilometres and the music I’ve chosen to spend my time with.

Driving back and forth through snowstorms, Mark Linkous sings “When you raise your head from your pillow don’t delay / Because people decay / Will you let the rays of the sun help you along / I woke up and all my yesterdays were gone.” I might have a tear. It depends on which day; which snowstorm; they kinda blend together like the snow as it settles on the ground.

December 24, 2009 is the last Christmas I have with my parents. It isn’t pleasant. Sick people don’t make for good company… and by this time we’re all sick. They have cancer – I have depression. Everyone else is just sick with worry. None of us know yet.

Dark Night of the Soul is playing in the car on the ride home – another snow storm. Vic Chesnutt is singing “What went on in my horrible dream / I was peering in through the picture window / It was a heart-warming tableau / Like a Norman Rockwell painting / Until I zoomed in / I was making noises in my sleep / But you wouldn’t believe me when I told ya / That I wasn’t with someone in my dream / Catfish were wriggling in blood and gore in the kitchen sink / Yeah, I told ya / I told ya / I told you / Now sweetie, promise me / That you won’t sing /This sad song, grim augury.”

On boxing day, as I drive alone towards my parents house I hear of Chesnutt’s death. He took a bunch of muscle relaxants on Christmas Day and never came back. Some tears hit me and I’m not sure if they are for me or him. He was such an awesome songwriter.

New Year’s eve, my parents are both being taken from their home by ambulance. My mom needs surgery, my father can’t take care of himself and I can’t be with both at the same time. Separate rooms in palliative care two hours away from me. Peterborough – nice city, full of shitty memories. I’ve grown to hate Highway 115/35.

Frank Black is screaming “I’m pluckin’ all day on my angel’s harp / Shoutin’ at the rising moon / Knowin’ that I will soon stay” and I’m driving in another snowstorm… following an ambulance from Peterborough to Toronto. Cars are sliding around, but I take my time, life has handed me enough drama, it doesn’t need me to create more by being an idiot.

After the surgery my mom is in and out of consciousness, sometimes doing well and sometimes not; talking to doctors about my parents is like watching a yo-yo go up and down without any tricks.

Iggy Pop sings “A massive headache in my aging skull / Means I do not feel well / Pain, pain, pain / Bad brains must always feel pain.” Maybe, but I’ve got a steady diet of pain killers and muscle relaxants to keep that shit at bay. There are too many places to be and I‘m never in the right place.

She died. My mom. I don’t know what I was listening to when I found out. I was five minutes from the hospital in another fuckin’ snowstorm. And after, I was alone in the parking lot, distraught, destroyed, and I don’t remember what I was hearing or seeing.

February turned to March, and there was more snow and more trips and the doctors and nurses knew me by name and the Black Keys, Patsy Cline and Johnny Cash had joined the soundtrack of my trip along with Dark Night of the Soul. Two days before my father died Mark Linkous (Sparklehorse) shot himself.

“Our souls / Time slippin’ by / I call out your pain / All alone / Shadows movin’ / Shadows movin’ / Shadows have long gone by / Dark night of the soul”… words, they haunt you more if you place them into your own context. They take on meanings that the writer never had. I slip further in thought.

Like Chesnutt, Linkous music had meant a lot to me. It had seen me through some good and bad times… and there should have been more. Both had put out an amazing repertoire of tunes and suddenly – like my parents, they were gone.

When the hell everything turned to shit I don’t know, but when my mourning turned into a full out depression, I got help. That was four years ago.

“Daddy’s Gone” spins on the turntable. A tear drops. Not for my parents… it’s for my kids. Cancer doesn’t just rob the sick of life; it steals time from the living; it steals focus away from happiness and places it squarely in survival mode. Caregivers and their families endure but those too young to understand see smiles slip away when heads turn from their eyes to look upon the photos on the wall. Funny, was I just describing cancer or depression?

Every few months I listen to this record and it takes me to places to important to forget. The emotional resonance just pulls me in and washes over me. Then, for a short time, I mourn again, and then I move on.

Lament for a world gone by… Queen – The Game

March 6, 2015 / ds barrett / Leave a comment

We would stay up and just talk until the wee hours. It was a bond we had, although it probably meant way more to me than her. Cousins, although not by blood, when my aunt said we were too old to sleep in the same room, we instead just went to the sofas down stairs and kept the conversation going.

There wasn’t any specific music as we chatted, it’s just that Queen’s The Game reminds me of those times. It was at at my cousins place where I first listened to this record but over the years it began to fade into the background, until I recently picked up this used copy on vinyl. It was the only format that I really wanted to own it on. I’m sentimental that way. If I originally heard it on vinyl, then that is how I want it now.

Queen put out ‘better’ records of course. (Although, The Game has sold more than any other Queen record due to two number one hits “Another One Bites The Dust” and “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”)

Early on they did the prog thing, and then they started this hybrid roaring twenties in the distant future bit. Honestly, I always pictured Queen as being at their best when imagining a movie cross of styles between Metropolis and Blade Runner. While Mercury and May were always a pretty much “over the top” duo, The Game along with the Flash Gordon Soundtrack was the end of the FM years for Queen as they began turning towards Mercury’s more ballad and broadway inspired material. He has always been the greatest vocalist to come out of “Rock”, but in the 80’s and 90’s it was as if he wanted to prove it… in my experience, when the ego gets bigger than the music, that’s when an artist begins to really… um… suck!

From The Works on I just couldn’t get into it. “Radio Ga Ga” was a song that just forced a change in the station. Maybe the Brits at Live Aid were into it, but that song drove me insane.

So it was nothing new after that. Sure I would, and did go back to listen to Night at the Opera and Day at the Races, but it was like photographs of days gone by. The Game, is a great classic record, but it is best suited as an entrance to memories. My cousin and I see each other now and then, but it’s been a long time since we sat up talking late into the night about nothing and everything. Meanwhile Queen keeps trying to keep memories alive, and in the process kinda ruin the legacy they have.

Oh Gloria, where the hell did you come from? Jimi Hendrix : “Gloria”

February 16, 2015 / ds barrett / 3 Comments

My wife and I have been going through boxes of stuff lately. You know, the kind of boxes that traveled from one residence to another but never got opened. It just keeps getting shoved aside for one reason or another, and gets forgotten until a cold day comes along and you begin to dig.

Within a shoebox filled with pictures and letters from my teens is a single of Hendrix covering “Gloria.” It is marked as first time available in United States with a release date of 1979. Weird that I should have no idea how I got it and where it came from. Side ‘A’ plays great with barely a hint of buzz or crackle, while the B-side (the unedited side) starts with a bunch of ‘pop and hiss’ before settling down and letting Jimi ‘take over’. (OK, that wasn’t funny)

I stare at it for a long time trying to see if it will stir a memory. I listen to it, and still nothing. In fact, I don’t recall even having heard Hendrix cover the old Them track. This lack of insight gets a little embarrassing as Hendrix starts taking extreme liberties with the lyrics while my kids are eating lunch.

It’s one thing to explain profanity in music and movies; I’ve gotten pretty good at explaining ’emphasis of anger’ or the decrease of IQ during moments of ‘jocularity’. BUT DAMN, I’m not ready to explain the sexual references and language of a 60’s rock god.

Fortunately, they miss the lyrics as they rock out to the grove being put down by the Jimi Hendrix Experience.

So, is this worth owning? It is Hendix in his prime, although, that sounds redundant as Hendrix died in his prime. It’s just that, as a solo piece of work it doesn’t really add or subtract from his legacy. It’s three guys having fun playing a cover song that has ample room for Hendrix to do what Hendrix does.

You can still find it out on e-bay and Kijiji at all kinds of weird price points that start just under ten bucks and then sail to ten times that, but you know what. I’ll leave a youtube link below, you listen and decide. Me, I’ll file it under – “play only when the kids are at school.”

Music Memories #1

December 16, 2014December 17, 2014 / ds barrett / 2 Comments

Music Memories #1 – Bruce Springsteen Live 75-85

As Christmas approached in the winter of ’86- ’87 I knew shit at home was going to be bad. When I left to go on Katimavik (a youth volunteer program that kept me away from home for 9 months) my parents were separated. When I arrived home they were together again, and my father had fallen into the same old habits that caused my mother and I to leave in the first place. In fact my father wasn’t really talking to me much. We had a rather large disagreement about responsibility in which I pointed out he was a hypocrite and he pointed out that he could “throw me out of the house threw the fucking key hole.” Needless to say, I had enough sense to realize things would be tense as my father got into his 24 Export Christmas present after dinner.

Of course, everything wasn’t all that bad. A friend had given me keys to his apartment so that I could hang out at his place and listen to tunes as he spent the day with his own family. I in return had taken some of the cash I had left from lifeguarding the previous summer and bought him the gift of music. It was a vinyl copy of Springsteen’s Live ’75 –’85.

It might seem tacky, but as a guy, and knowing enough that my friend would see it this as a cool gift opened or opened, I removed the shrink wrap and made myself a cassette copy of the whole thing as I sat alone and just let the music hit me.

All these stories just started walloping me all at once. Two and a quarter hours Bruce explained the universe to me. I had come back from Katimavik with a renewed sense of confidence, but had done nothing since to foster that side of me. So as Mr. Springsteen sang, I began to imagine what I wanted to do with the next few months.

“Thunder Road” has me thinking about how to get out of the house, and perhaps out of town.

“Growin’ Up” gets me wanting to face a couple of life’s failures and making up for it.

By “Cadillac Ranch” it occurs to me that perhaps adding some fun into the mix would be good.

Each song took on new meaning and laid itself as some kind of plan, and soon this screwed up Christmas started feeling like an epiphany.

The first twenty years of my life shouldn’t be used as an excuse to fuck up the rest of my life. From this point on, my successes and failures had to be my own, and exist separately from where and how I was raised at home.

When the music finished, I took my cassettes out of the tape deck, left a Christmas card on top of the cover of the record and made my way home. Bruce was now singing through the headphones of my Walkman and continued to do so most of that winter. The plans he inspired saw me through the next few years as I moved out, upgraded my high school marks and went to University.

Thanks Bruce

barrettbites

Vinyl and Collectibles reviewed and geeked about!

autobiographical