Cities like Philadelphia have wildly bustling music scenes in and around them, to the point that one can easily be tempted to look at a band like Downtown Harvest and, with nary a listen to their music, write them off as just another Philly band sweating it out in an overcrowded market. That, however, would be a colossal mistake. Here are four guys who know no boundaries. Across their two albums, they mix rock, funk, hip-hop, disco, R&B, jazz, rap, and electronica as if those genres are all one in the same. Electric guitars, keyboards, saxophones, and all sorts of percussive gimmicks drive most of the band’s arrangements. Each of DTH’s vocalists has his own distinctive sound, making for some attention-grabbing harmonies and vocal interplay. The band’s songs often employ sudden tempo changes, stops and starts, and other structural quirks, while their lyrics range from mysteriously poetic to downright unintelligible. In other words, if you’re looking for the next big thing in mainstream rock, keep looking. But if you’re looking for something truly different in a world of seemingly endless sameness, look no further.
Here’s the breakdown of DTH’s albums, both available from Malogna Records:
Downtown Harvest (2006): Impossible to categorize and quietly off-the-wall from start to finish. A subtle, fun album whose tracks tend to sound custom-made for a small houseparty. The presence of a continuous song sequence towards the end illustrates the point that this is more of a free-flowing, full-length statement than a collection of individual songs. Highlights of Downtown Harvest include the low key, mood-shifting “Rubber Band Song”; the funky “Hurry Before Worry”; “Hills of Beverly,” with its dreamlike new wave textures; the goofy quasi-electronica of “B.O.B”; and “Rattle On,” which has a lethargic, rootsy feel.
Golden Dragon (2007): Louder and more in-your-face than Downtown Harvest, Golden Dragon has more of a straight-ahead rock sound on its first several tracks, reserving its most daring experiments for its second half. Not as much of a cohesive statement as Downtown Harvest, but an entertaining collection with many strong tunes. Highlights include the kaleidoscopic “Full Circle”; “Something Elephants,” a bouncy, absurdist take on indie rock; the heavy New Orleans sound of “Four Hundo”; the psychedelic blues-rock of “MDK”; and “Clockwork Tangerines,” whose multi-movement construction is quite classical in nature. (No comments on the liner notes, which are said to resemble a Chinese food menu—this review is based on an advance press copy without full packaging.)
For music and more information: http://www.downtownharvest.com
http://www.myspace.com/downtownharvest
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Monday, July 9, 2007
Funky Fresh Jersey Girl
How to describe the music of Laura Cheadle? It’s probably best understood as a rich stew—or, in the sweltering heat in which I am writing this, a summer salad—the recipe for which goes something like this: two cups of old-school soul; one and a half cups of acoustic singer/songwriter; one cup of classic pop; one tablespoon of rock ‘n’ roll; jazz and blues to taste. Best served funky.
The 21-year-old songstress grew up in a heavily musical family, which put her in a position to either love music or hate music. Fortunately, she took the former course: “Music is my life and is so natural and medicating to me,” she explains. “I need it just the same as I need air to breathe. I can't imagine living without it and I am thrilled to have grown up in such a musical environment.” Laura’s comments on the making of her current studio album, Falling In, reveal that music is still largely a family affair for this Jersey girl: “The main musicians [on Falling In] are myself on rhythm guitar and vocals, my father James S. Cheadle on keyboards, my brother Jimmy Lee Cheadle on lead guitar, Dave Sikorski on bass, Bill Grillo on drums and Justin Hirsch on percussion. […] I wrote all of the music originally on my acoustic guitar so it was a blast making this album with a live band.”
The songs on Falling In deal with the usual themes of love, lust, infatuation, and separation, but there is no mistaking this for a typical “been there, done that” affair by yet another pretty girl with a guitar. First off, there’s Laura’s smoky voice, which veers from a sultry, seductive whisper to an electrifying gospel-tinged shout. Then there’s her songcraft, based on ringing, textured guitar chords with jazzy chromatics, often employing tempo changes and slightly unorthodox chord sequences. “I taught myself how to play the guitar at age 15 and I don't really have a conventional way of writing or playing,” she says with some amusement. “I wrote all of these songs during different times of my life and just developed a style that felt like me.” Indeed, that style carries over to her lyrics, which often contain stream-of-consciousness musings related in a strangely poetic manner. For example, “Perfect Design” offers pairings like “I take you in my lips, devourin' every inch/Your charm and your mind, your whole perfect design”—phrases so pure and delicate I hesitate to apply such a stark label as “sexually explicit” to them. “Midst Of Your Mystery” is even more hauntingly down-to-earth: “It was kinda scary when the car said check engine/You just smiled and reassured we'd be just fine […] Deep down I wish we woulda got stranded, just to spend another moment with you.”
When combined with the musicianship of her band and her father’s production, Laura’s songs get transformed into intriguing sonic collages. “Bright and Beautiful” combines the funk of a vintage Stevie Wonder track with a summery breeziness reminiscent of Malo’s “Suavecito.” And that’s only part of the story. Laura: “For ‘Bright and Beautiful,’ we kept my music how it was written on the guitar but randomly decided to put a ‘jazz break’ in the middle of the song. I LOVE how it turned out.” The album’s title track starts off like the greatest ballad that Dionne Warwick never recorded, only to jump into a hip-swaying dance groove along the lines of War on happy juice. “Midst Of Your Mystery” marries the ethereal atmosphere of Rachael Yamagata’s gentler songs to the down-and-dirty sound of a bluesy bar band, while “Love Map” brings in a country flavor on its swinging choruses. According to Laura, “that was not intentional. My acoustic version of [“Love Map”] does not sound country at all. My brother Jimmy Lee enjoys country music and he was playing that guitar riff on the album.”
Two of the selections on Falling In differ so notably from the rest of the album that they deserve special mention. The ominous, minor-keyed “Replaying” is a quietly dramatic pop opus whose sound exists out of place and time, and Laura told me that it strikes a special chord with her: “I wrote ‘Replaying’ a few years ago and it's about a love that I had to let go of. I enjoy how this song came out because the music matches my emotion at the time. It's one of my favorite tracks on my CD because I was actually crying during the vocal.” Equally eerie is the acoustic “Surrounded,” whose lyrics are atypically abstract: “Affection takes over my world/All is surrounded by a single girl. Will she wander to an escape?/Cluttered with worries, there’s no steps to take.” Naturally, Laura can account for the singularity of this particular tune: “I wrote ‘Surrounded’ after my album was finished and about to be released. I went back in the studio to lay it down just to have it. I then decided to make it a bonus track. Many of my songs are love songs, but I wrote ‘Surrounded’ completely about life. I woke up with it in my head and wrote it down. It's really about figuring out different parts of your life and trying not to worry about what happens next.”
So that’s Laura Cheadle as an in-studio recording artist. But Laura Cheadle is more than just an in-studio recording artist; she’s a personality. For one thing, she is an eccentric free spirit. Friend her on MySpace and it’ll be just a matter of time before she fills your message center with random bulletins informing you of her latest road trip or the last Tower of Power concert she attended. She even poses all sorts of—you guessed it—random questions to her fans and shares photos and drawings in her bulletins and blogs. It’s clear that she believes strongly in being connected to her fans, which the internet allows her to do with some semblance of ease. However, it is in person that Laura gets to make the ultimate connection with her funky followers.
Whether you see Laura acoustically or with her live band (also featuring her dad and her bro), she is sure to get wrapped up in a world of her own, letting each song take her and propel her into a realm understandable only by those who truly feel the power of her music. In an acoustic setting, she lets the raw emotion of her songs do the talking. With a full band behind her, she takes control of the stage, shaking and swaying every inch of her dancer’s form to every single beat of the music. Either way, she banters freely with the audience, displaying a natural charm and a quirky sense of humor—both hard to resist. And in that moment when she looks out into the crowd and sees you dancing or singing along to her music and she engages your eyes, lingers for a moment, and winks, it is far beyond a mere connection. It is a genuine spiritual exchange. Or at least that’s my perspective as a fan. Happily, Laura’s perspective as the artist is similar: “Live performances are my favorite! The rush from the crowd is incredible and you get to be so spontaneous with the arrangements of music and performance. I live to perform. Acoustic shows are a great intimate setting where you can tell the crowd where [and] when each song was written. Full band shows are amazing because I get to dance and really stretch out vocally. I also love having that musical connection with all of my bandmates where we don't have to say a single word during a performance, yet we know exactly what each other is thinking.”
What’s next on the horizon for this rising young star? “I finished my brand new song ‘10 Weeks of Immortality’ and that is up on my MySpace page for a listen. I am working on a new album, which will probably be finished by next year or so. I have been writing like crazy and feel like I just keep growing and growing. I went away on vacation last week and wrote four more songs.” She adds, smiling, “It's hard to say how each song will turn out because I am getting inspired more and more every single day.”
In the meantime, Falling In is readily available in CD form and on iTunes, and Laura also has a fun(ky) live CD which you can order directly from her. At the time of this writing, there are also some highly entertaining videos on her MySpace profile (“The MySpace Funk” has to be seen to be believed). It is fortunate that Laura Cheadle’s music can be accessed so easily in this high-tech digital world, for she is an artist who has it all: the looks, the moves, the charisma, and the TALENT to back it all up.
Or, to put it more simply: Laura Cheadle is bright and beautiful.
For music and more information: http://www.lauracheadle.com
http://www.myspace.com/lauracheadle
Many thanks to Laura Cheadle for the interview.
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
The 21-year-old songstress grew up in a heavily musical family, which put her in a position to either love music or hate music. Fortunately, she took the former course: “Music is my life and is so natural and medicating to me,” she explains. “I need it just the same as I need air to breathe. I can't imagine living without it and I am thrilled to have grown up in such a musical environment.” Laura’s comments on the making of her current studio album, Falling In, reveal that music is still largely a family affair for this Jersey girl: “The main musicians [on Falling In] are myself on rhythm guitar and vocals, my father James S. Cheadle on keyboards, my brother Jimmy Lee Cheadle on lead guitar, Dave Sikorski on bass, Bill Grillo on drums and Justin Hirsch on percussion. […] I wrote all of the music originally on my acoustic guitar so it was a blast making this album with a live band.”
The songs on Falling In deal with the usual themes of love, lust, infatuation, and separation, but there is no mistaking this for a typical “been there, done that” affair by yet another pretty girl with a guitar. First off, there’s Laura’s smoky voice, which veers from a sultry, seductive whisper to an electrifying gospel-tinged shout. Then there’s her songcraft, based on ringing, textured guitar chords with jazzy chromatics, often employing tempo changes and slightly unorthodox chord sequences. “I taught myself how to play the guitar at age 15 and I don't really have a conventional way of writing or playing,” she says with some amusement. “I wrote all of these songs during different times of my life and just developed a style that felt like me.” Indeed, that style carries over to her lyrics, which often contain stream-of-consciousness musings related in a strangely poetic manner. For example, “Perfect Design” offers pairings like “I take you in my lips, devourin' every inch/Your charm and your mind, your whole perfect design”—phrases so pure and delicate I hesitate to apply such a stark label as “sexually explicit” to them. “Midst Of Your Mystery” is even more hauntingly down-to-earth: “It was kinda scary when the car said check engine/You just smiled and reassured we'd be just fine […] Deep down I wish we woulda got stranded, just to spend another moment with you.”
When combined with the musicianship of her band and her father’s production, Laura’s songs get transformed into intriguing sonic collages. “Bright and Beautiful” combines the funk of a vintage Stevie Wonder track with a summery breeziness reminiscent of Malo’s “Suavecito.” And that’s only part of the story. Laura: “For ‘Bright and Beautiful,’ we kept my music how it was written on the guitar but randomly decided to put a ‘jazz break’ in the middle of the song. I LOVE how it turned out.” The album’s title track starts off like the greatest ballad that Dionne Warwick never recorded, only to jump into a hip-swaying dance groove along the lines of War on happy juice. “Midst Of Your Mystery” marries the ethereal atmosphere of Rachael Yamagata’s gentler songs to the down-and-dirty sound of a bluesy bar band, while “Love Map” brings in a country flavor on its swinging choruses. According to Laura, “that was not intentional. My acoustic version of [“Love Map”] does not sound country at all. My brother Jimmy Lee enjoys country music and he was playing that guitar riff on the album.”
Two of the selections on Falling In differ so notably from the rest of the album that they deserve special mention. The ominous, minor-keyed “Replaying” is a quietly dramatic pop opus whose sound exists out of place and time, and Laura told me that it strikes a special chord with her: “I wrote ‘Replaying’ a few years ago and it's about a love that I had to let go of. I enjoy how this song came out because the music matches my emotion at the time. It's one of my favorite tracks on my CD because I was actually crying during the vocal.” Equally eerie is the acoustic “Surrounded,” whose lyrics are atypically abstract: “Affection takes over my world/All is surrounded by a single girl. Will she wander to an escape?/Cluttered with worries, there’s no steps to take.” Naturally, Laura can account for the singularity of this particular tune: “I wrote ‘Surrounded’ after my album was finished and about to be released. I went back in the studio to lay it down just to have it. I then decided to make it a bonus track. Many of my songs are love songs, but I wrote ‘Surrounded’ completely about life. I woke up with it in my head and wrote it down. It's really about figuring out different parts of your life and trying not to worry about what happens next.”
So that’s Laura Cheadle as an in-studio recording artist. But Laura Cheadle is more than just an in-studio recording artist; she’s a personality. For one thing, she is an eccentric free spirit. Friend her on MySpace and it’ll be just a matter of time before she fills your message center with random bulletins informing you of her latest road trip or the last Tower of Power concert she attended. She even poses all sorts of—you guessed it—random questions to her fans and shares photos and drawings in her bulletins and blogs. It’s clear that she believes strongly in being connected to her fans, which the internet allows her to do with some semblance of ease. However, it is in person that Laura gets to make the ultimate connection with her funky followers.
Whether you see Laura acoustically or with her live band (also featuring her dad and her bro), she is sure to get wrapped up in a world of her own, letting each song take her and propel her into a realm understandable only by those who truly feel the power of her music. In an acoustic setting, she lets the raw emotion of her songs do the talking. With a full band behind her, she takes control of the stage, shaking and swaying every inch of her dancer’s form to every single beat of the music. Either way, she banters freely with the audience, displaying a natural charm and a quirky sense of humor—both hard to resist. And in that moment when she looks out into the crowd and sees you dancing or singing along to her music and she engages your eyes, lingers for a moment, and winks, it is far beyond a mere connection. It is a genuine spiritual exchange. Or at least that’s my perspective as a fan. Happily, Laura’s perspective as the artist is similar: “Live performances are my favorite! The rush from the crowd is incredible and you get to be so spontaneous with the arrangements of music and performance. I live to perform. Acoustic shows are a great intimate setting where you can tell the crowd where [and] when each song was written. Full band shows are amazing because I get to dance and really stretch out vocally. I also love having that musical connection with all of my bandmates where we don't have to say a single word during a performance, yet we know exactly what each other is thinking.”
What’s next on the horizon for this rising young star? “I finished my brand new song ‘10 Weeks of Immortality’ and that is up on my MySpace page for a listen. I am working on a new album, which will probably be finished by next year or so. I have been writing like crazy and feel like I just keep growing and growing. I went away on vacation last week and wrote four more songs.” She adds, smiling, “It's hard to say how each song will turn out because I am getting inspired more and more every single day.”
In the meantime, Falling In is readily available in CD form and on iTunes, and Laura also has a fun(ky) live CD which you can order directly from her. At the time of this writing, there are also some highly entertaining videos on her MySpace profile (“The MySpace Funk” has to be seen to be believed). It is fortunate that Laura Cheadle’s music can be accessed so easily in this high-tech digital world, for she is an artist who has it all: the looks, the moves, the charisma, and the TALENT to back it all up.
Or, to put it more simply: Laura Cheadle is bright and beautiful.
For music and more information: http://www.lauracheadle.com
http://www.myspace.com/lauracheadle
Many thanks to Laura Cheadle for the interview.
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Rambeau, Part II
Back in the 1960s, there was a young man who was making quite a lot of noise in the music industry, whether people realized it or not. If they danced and sang along to hits like Mark Valentino’s “The Push And Kick” or Diane Renay’s “Navy Blue” and “Kiss Me Sailor,” they were digging the songcraft of Eddie Rambeau and his frequent collaborator Bud Rehak. If they tuned in to a popular television series such as Shindig, they might have seen Mr. Rambeau swingin’ and swayin’ as he sang “My Name Is Mud,” “The Train,” and Unit 4+2’s “Concrete And Clay,” all of which brought Eddie a fair amount of success as a recording artist. This multi-talented lad with the well-groomed appearance and boy-next-door charm was simply made for teen idol status. The girls screamed at him on TV and ambushed him in person.
But now, Eddie Rambeau has grown up. And changed his name. To Ed Rambeau.
Ed Rambeau is no longer in the ‘60s—now, he’s in his 60s. Fortunately for him, he’s always looked younger than his actual age. And he’s no cute and cuddly boy-next-door type. He’s a hunky, swaggering ladies man who occasionally sings songs with naughty lyrics and has a tendency to pose topless—or just in a pair of short shorts. I personally could stand to see fewer such photos, but who’s to fault Ed for showing off what he’s got? After all, the females still love him, although it is a somewhat more mature crowd now. But they still scream at him and they leave him MySpace comments containing all sorts of come-ons and titillating graphics. You might say that Ed Rambeau is putting the “sex” in “sexagenarian.”
Please refrain from throwing rotten tomatoes at me.
Musically—and his music is what matters most, right?—Ed Rambeau has been recording in his own studio in New York and using the internet not only to promote his work but also to stay in close contact with his impressively loyal fan base. He records and releases new albums at a dizzying pace. Ed still knows how to write a good song and puts those skills to use every now and then. But more often, he covers other people’s material, tackling a mind-boggling variety of styles. Who else can swing a standard like “This Could Be The Start Of Something Big,” move on to a recent pop favorite such as “Livin’ La Vida Loca,” soul it up with “Wake Up Everybody,” then rock a bit on “Proud Mary,” and do it all convincingly? Ed adds his own signature style to each song he sings, and sometimes his interpretations are noteworthy for their arrangements and productions as well as his vocals. He took a minimalist approach to Cher’s “Believe” while retaining the basic feel, transformed Low Rawls’ “You’ll Never Find (Another Love Like Mine)” into a downbeat ballad (though he also did it in its original Philly soul style), gave Dionne Warwick’s “Walk On By” a swanky uptown treatment, and recast The Bee Gees’ “How Can You Mend A Broken Heart” as a heart-wrenching slab of pop-soul. He’s also known for taking many classics and revising the lyrics, often in a humorous fashion—lest you think that “The Lady Is A Tramp” originally contained the line “To get ahead, she would never kiss butt.” A former Broadway actor, Ed also records numerous songs from musicals, proving that showtunes often make great pop songs as well; I’m particularly fond of his reading of “Storybook” from The Scarlet Pimpernel, which I never even knew existed as a musical until Ed enlightened me.
My original game plan was to interview Ed and use a few quotes for an article, but he gave me such fascinating answers that I had to publish the interview in its entirety. Here is a recent e-mail correspondence between me and today’s Rambeau:
SJ: When did you resume your recording career?
Ed: Actually I left recording for a while to study acting and then played on Broadway and traveled with Jesus Christ Superstar for a while then returned to recording in the early ‘80s, I believe.
SJ: When did you start using the internet to distribute and promote your music?
Ed: I suppose I've been using the internet about 3 years now.
SJ: Have you been working consistently with Bud Rehak throughout the years?
Ed: Bud is a very dear friend and we work off and on together. He and I did a great deal of special tributes to various Stars and Personalities. Kind of like a “This Is Your Life” in song. We've done them for Bernadette Peters, Kaye Ballard and many many others.
SJ: How do people react to the new Rambeau versus the old Rambeau—specifically, the spunky sex symbol versus the clean-cut boy next door?
Ed: Well, it's almost hard to get them to listen to my music. Once they see the CD cover they always comment on that and very seldom say anything about my music until much much later. Perhaps I'm selling the wrong thing here. LOL. But the women seem to love it. Here's a funny story that just happened today. I went to Port Authority Bus Terminal to purchase a ticket to New Jersey and I asked for a Senior Citizen rate. This large black woman looked at me strangely so I said, "You wanna see my ID?" And she replied, "Hell, no! I wanna see your body!" So I just happened to have a few copies of the new CD with me and when I handed it to her she took one look and began fanning herself with the CD itself. So I gave her a copy.
SJ: What inspires you to perform such a wide variety of material?
Ed: All my life I've listened closely to fellow performers and discovered I had the ability to emulate their sound. So what I try to do in my cover recordings is kind of get the essence of the original performer with a slight Rambeau touch. People are used to the original sound and have a hard time accepting a change so I try to reproduce the original sound as closely as I can and then throw in some of my own style.
SJ: When and how did your love of showtunes begin?
Ed: As far back as I can remember. I suppose it's because a great showtune has a great lyric and a singer is a story teller. What better way to tell a story than with great set of lyrics? My very first Broadway show (that I saw as a high school student) was Bye Bye, Birdie. From that moment on I was hooked.
SJ: With covers, how do you decide whether to stick to the original arrangement or change it?
Ed: I prefer to change it unless the original arrangement is so identifiable with the song that it almost forces me to use it. I've often done many songs two different ways.
SJ: Why change the lyrics to some of the standards? How do people react?
Ed: Many standards are so old and have to be brought a little up to date. Sinatra did it in his time and many artists still do it. I think it also grabs the listener who is familiar with the original lyric because they're suddenly hearing something unfamiliar and it makes them listen. I've never had a bad reaction to any lyric changes that I've made...thus far anyway.
SJ: Describe a typical session at Studio Rambeau.
Ed: I make myself a hot cup of coffee and then turn on my equipment. Then I put the original version on two tracks with the original singer (because I'm terrible at reading lyrics). Then I put my instrumental track on two other tracks and set up my vocal track. I listen to the first few lines of the original singer and then record those lines. Then the next few and so on. But it isn't always done that way. Many times (as with standards) I know the lyrics so I just sing the entire song completely thru and then hone the lines I feel I can do better. Listening is very important because it inspires you to do other things so I listen over and over and over looking for that inspirational moment. It usually takes me anywhere from two to five hours to record a single song. Then it has to be mixed which usually takes another hour or so. Some songs I get in one take but I usually go back the next day or so and correct things that I don't like and know I can do better.
Many thanks to Ed Rambeau for the interview.
To hear literally hundreds of Ed’s songs, visit: http://www.musicforte.com/member/edrambeau
Also visit: http://www.edrambeau.com; http://www.myspace.com/edrambeau
And to learn more about Ed’s previous ventures, visit: http://www.redbirdent.com/rambeau.htm
[Have you read the article from Red Bird Entertainment? Okay, here’s why ABC put the kibosh on “Summertime Guy” and not “Palisades Park.” ABC had granted Chuck Barris permission to peddle “Palisades Park”—which was titled “Amusement Park” at the time—because ABC didn’t believe in the song. When it became a hit, ABC got egg on its face and was determined not to let that happen again. The rest, as they say…]
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
But now, Eddie Rambeau has grown up. And changed his name. To Ed Rambeau.
Ed Rambeau is no longer in the ‘60s—now, he’s in his 60s. Fortunately for him, he’s always looked younger than his actual age. And he’s no cute and cuddly boy-next-door type. He’s a hunky, swaggering ladies man who occasionally sings songs with naughty lyrics and has a tendency to pose topless—or just in a pair of short shorts. I personally could stand to see fewer such photos, but who’s to fault Ed for showing off what he’s got? After all, the females still love him, although it is a somewhat more mature crowd now. But they still scream at him and they leave him MySpace comments containing all sorts of come-ons and titillating graphics. You might say that Ed Rambeau is putting the “sex” in “sexagenarian.”
Please refrain from throwing rotten tomatoes at me.
Musically—and his music is what matters most, right?—Ed Rambeau has been recording in his own studio in New York and using the internet not only to promote his work but also to stay in close contact with his impressively loyal fan base. He records and releases new albums at a dizzying pace. Ed still knows how to write a good song and puts those skills to use every now and then. But more often, he covers other people’s material, tackling a mind-boggling variety of styles. Who else can swing a standard like “This Could Be The Start Of Something Big,” move on to a recent pop favorite such as “Livin’ La Vida Loca,” soul it up with “Wake Up Everybody,” then rock a bit on “Proud Mary,” and do it all convincingly? Ed adds his own signature style to each song he sings, and sometimes his interpretations are noteworthy for their arrangements and productions as well as his vocals. He took a minimalist approach to Cher’s “Believe” while retaining the basic feel, transformed Low Rawls’ “You’ll Never Find (Another Love Like Mine)” into a downbeat ballad (though he also did it in its original Philly soul style), gave Dionne Warwick’s “Walk On By” a swanky uptown treatment, and recast The Bee Gees’ “How Can You Mend A Broken Heart” as a heart-wrenching slab of pop-soul. He’s also known for taking many classics and revising the lyrics, often in a humorous fashion—lest you think that “The Lady Is A Tramp” originally contained the line “To get ahead, she would never kiss butt.” A former Broadway actor, Ed also records numerous songs from musicals, proving that showtunes often make great pop songs as well; I’m particularly fond of his reading of “Storybook” from The Scarlet Pimpernel, which I never even knew existed as a musical until Ed enlightened me.
My original game plan was to interview Ed and use a few quotes for an article, but he gave me such fascinating answers that I had to publish the interview in its entirety. Here is a recent e-mail correspondence between me and today’s Rambeau:
SJ: When did you resume your recording career?
Ed: Actually I left recording for a while to study acting and then played on Broadway and traveled with Jesus Christ Superstar for a while then returned to recording in the early ‘80s, I believe.
SJ: When did you start using the internet to distribute and promote your music?
Ed: I suppose I've been using the internet about 3 years now.
SJ: Have you been working consistently with Bud Rehak throughout the years?
Ed: Bud is a very dear friend and we work off and on together. He and I did a great deal of special tributes to various Stars and Personalities. Kind of like a “This Is Your Life” in song. We've done them for Bernadette Peters, Kaye Ballard and many many others.
SJ: How do people react to the new Rambeau versus the old Rambeau—specifically, the spunky sex symbol versus the clean-cut boy next door?
Ed: Well, it's almost hard to get them to listen to my music. Once they see the CD cover they always comment on that and very seldom say anything about my music until much much later. Perhaps I'm selling the wrong thing here. LOL. But the women seem to love it. Here's a funny story that just happened today. I went to Port Authority Bus Terminal to purchase a ticket to New Jersey and I asked for a Senior Citizen rate. This large black woman looked at me strangely so I said, "You wanna see my ID?" And she replied, "Hell, no! I wanna see your body!" So I just happened to have a few copies of the new CD with me and when I handed it to her she took one look and began fanning herself with the CD itself. So I gave her a copy.
SJ: What inspires you to perform such a wide variety of material?
Ed: All my life I've listened closely to fellow performers and discovered I had the ability to emulate their sound. So what I try to do in my cover recordings is kind of get the essence of the original performer with a slight Rambeau touch. People are used to the original sound and have a hard time accepting a change so I try to reproduce the original sound as closely as I can and then throw in some of my own style.
SJ: When and how did your love of showtunes begin?
Ed: As far back as I can remember. I suppose it's because a great showtune has a great lyric and a singer is a story teller. What better way to tell a story than with great set of lyrics? My very first Broadway show (that I saw as a high school student) was Bye Bye, Birdie. From that moment on I was hooked.
SJ: With covers, how do you decide whether to stick to the original arrangement or change it?
Ed: I prefer to change it unless the original arrangement is so identifiable with the song that it almost forces me to use it. I've often done many songs two different ways.
SJ: Why change the lyrics to some of the standards? How do people react?
Ed: Many standards are so old and have to be brought a little up to date. Sinatra did it in his time and many artists still do it. I think it also grabs the listener who is familiar with the original lyric because they're suddenly hearing something unfamiliar and it makes them listen. I've never had a bad reaction to any lyric changes that I've made...thus far anyway.
SJ: Describe a typical session at Studio Rambeau.
Ed: I make myself a hot cup of coffee and then turn on my equipment. Then I put the original version on two tracks with the original singer (because I'm terrible at reading lyrics). Then I put my instrumental track on two other tracks and set up my vocal track. I listen to the first few lines of the original singer and then record those lines. Then the next few and so on. But it isn't always done that way. Many times (as with standards) I know the lyrics so I just sing the entire song completely thru and then hone the lines I feel I can do better. Listening is very important because it inspires you to do other things so I listen over and over and over looking for that inspirational moment. It usually takes me anywhere from two to five hours to record a single song. Then it has to be mixed which usually takes another hour or so. Some songs I get in one take but I usually go back the next day or so and correct things that I don't like and know I can do better.
Many thanks to Ed Rambeau for the interview.
To hear literally hundreds of Ed’s songs, visit: http://www.musicforte.com/member/edrambeau
Also visit: http://www.edrambeau.com; http://www.myspace.com/edrambeau
And to learn more about Ed’s previous ventures, visit: http://www.redbirdent.com/rambeau.htm
[Have you read the article from Red Bird Entertainment? Okay, here’s why ABC put the kibosh on “Summertime Guy” and not “Palisades Park.” ABC had granted Chuck Barris permission to peddle “Palisades Park”—which was titled “Amusement Park” at the time—because ABC didn’t believe in the song. When it became a hit, ABC got egg on its face and was determined not to let that happen again. The rest, as they say…]
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Guilty Pleasures Await You
Guilty pleasures. Things you shouldn’t like. Things you may never admit to liking. And in truth, you don’t like them. You love them. Oh, you’d never get caught enjoying any of them in public. But in the privacy of your home, when there’s no one else around and all the windows and doors are shut tight, you gladly partake. And as long as no one knows, everything is okay.
The music industry has produced many guilty pleasures. These are songs and recordings that some critics, historians, and other “serious” music connoisseurs like to scoff at. But not me. I am brave enough to admit that I like—nay, love each and every one of these naughty indulgences. And I’m not alone; every one of the following made the Top 40 on at least one major Billboard chart.
“Girlfriend,” Avril Lavigne (2007): Lavigne shouts bitchy lyrics in a cheerleader style over a stomping beat, creating the feeling that a bunch of punk wannabes have infiltrated and commandeered a Gwen Stefani session. But consider the actual lyrical content: “Hey you! I don’t like your girlfriend! I think you need a new one! […] I’m the motherfuckin’ princess!” As if this didn’t already sound less like a song and more like a drunk chick trying to pick up a bar patron who’s clearly on a date, Avril lets you know that you ain’t heard nothin’ yet: “She’s like, so whatever!” But then she drops the line that makes it all worthwhile: “You could do so much better.” And that’s what makes this number so special: Lavigne may be ridiculously self-absorbed, but deep down inside she thinks this guy deserves better than the airhead he settled for. Aww, isn’t that sweet? Well, even if it’s not, the tune is so catchy and the beat so danceable that no one really needs to care. [July 10, 2007 update: Another reason for “Girlfriend” to be a guilty pleasure. According to The Associated Press, Lavigne is being sued by members of the ‘70s band The Rubinoos for ripping off their classic song “I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend.” My advice is to acknowledge guilt and settle this one out of court.]
“Don’t You (Forget About Me),” Simple Minds (1985): A lot of hits from the ‘80s qualify as guilty pleasures, but usually because they’re so loud and cheesy. Few ‘80s classics are as quietly bizarre as this one. For one thing, it’s a clumsily structured composition. The title line seems to constitute the chorus until it shows up elsewhere in the song, sung with the exact same melody. The lyrics appear to flow in a free-form, stream-of-consciousness manner until the eyebrow-raising statement “I’ll be alone dancin’, you know it baby” reappears out of nowhere. The band’s treatment of this peculiar tune is replete with all the usual ‘80s pop/rock gimmicks: guitar strings plucked frantically so as to sound like teeth chattering, synthesizers chiming in with computerized noises worthy of a low-budget sci-fi flick. But the mix is rather unusual, with everything drowned in echo and compression and the drums pushed so far ahead of the other instruments that the beat nearly knocks a hole in your chest. Lead singer Jim Kerr delivers most of the song in such a creepy, nervous whisper that he sounds like a stalker rather than a desperate lover. After what seems to be a bridge passage in which Kerr pleads and begs, “Will you call my name?” you might think that the song will return to the chorus, but no—in the most un-rock ‘n’ roll moment on any record to score high on the rock charts (#1 on Billboard’s Album Rock listing), Kerr leaps into that unforgettable rideout: “I said laaaaa, la la la laaaaa, la la la laaaaa, la la la la la la la la la laaaaaaa…” The whole record is so strange that it just shouldn’t work. But somehow, it does. Apparently it owes much of its hit status to its inclusion in the movie The Breakfast Club; I don’t even remember that film and yet I fell in love with this song anyway. The truth really is stranger than fiction.
“I Need Somebody,” ? & the Mysterians (1966): In 1966, these guys hit #1 with the amazing “96 Tears,” one of the earliest punk rock records. On the follow-up single, they concoct an R&B-infused stomper which allows them to display their inherent quirks to (almost) the fullest extent. Organist Frank Rodriguez plays a standard R&B riff over and over and over again while his fellow Mysterians attack their instruments with far more attention to volume than, you know, playing the right notes or anything. Lead singer ?—that’s his name, dammit!—shouts across the band’s endless riffing in such an unmelodic style that we might as well just call it rapping, free associating the lyrics to the point that many of them don’t make the least bit of sense (“I have a love that can make love”???). When Rodriguez breaks out into “Mary Had A Little Lamb” mid-song, you know that you just can’t take this record seriously. It’s not supposed to be a joke, but it sure is funny! A lot of people think that “96 Tears” was this band’s only hit, but “I Need Somebody” actually made it to #22 on Billboard’s Hot 100.
“I Likes To Do It,” The People’s Choice (1971): The most obscure number in this roundup, “I Likes To Do It” broke into the Top 40 of Billboard’s Hot 100 (the main pop chart at the time) and the Top 10 of that publication’s R&B listing in the summer of ’71. It was the first hit for the Philly funk band that would later score with the disco-ish “Do It Any Way You Wanna,” and like much funky music before and since, “I Likes To Do It” broke away from the traditional patterns of song structure. But this one was pretty extreme. I have friends who toil for hours, days, even weeks writing songs that have, um, melodies and, uh, you know, lyrics. These guys were too smart for that. Just some simple, primitive keyboard riffing, a shuffling drumbeat, syncopated basslines, and some scatting. Oh, and somebody beating the living daylight out of a tambourine. That’s it. “I likes to do it, y’all, hey hey! [scatting] I likes to DO IT, Y’ALL, hey hey! [more scatting]” On some level, it’s wrong that I am such a big fan of this record. And on that same level, it’s even worse that this record became a hit. But I guarantee you, once you’ve heard it, you won’t be able to get it out of your head. Even if you hate it.
“…Baby One More Time,” Britney Spears (1998): I don’t know what it is about the Swedish, but they have long had a knack for making attention-grabbing pop music. Producer Max Martin continued that tradition here, building on the in-your-face character of his memorable productions for Robyn (“Do You Know What It Takes,” “Show Me Love”) simply by adding more clutter to the basic formula. Layer upon layer of vocals, instruments and sound effects popping out everywhere, a two-note piano riff applied in such a dramatic fashion as to sound profound—“overproduced splendor,” I used to call it. But then there was the star of our show, Ms. Spears herself. Any suspicions that Britney was poised to become the next great American singer were laid to rest as soon as she opened her mouth and let out a trashy “Oh, baybay baybay” in that piercing teenaged voice of hers. Her performance throughout this debut hit set the stage for her entire music career thus far: delightfully overblown, proudly sleazy, struggling to hit the right notes but not always succeeding, and often substituting panting or moaning for actual singing. With this record, she established herself as an unmistakably manufactured popstar, relying on creative production and infectious material rather than any noticeable talent of her own. Martin, with his keen ear and a finger constantly placed on the pulse of the market, delivered the goods. And as a slightly smitten 17-year-old who fell head over heels with this recording during his senior year of high school, I had no idea that Spears would someday become a total wreck, with all the sad, sordid details of her personal life on display for the world to see. Normally such a development would make an artist’s music harder to enjoy; in Britney’s case, it has merely increased the “guilty pleasure” quotient.
“24 Hours From Tulsa,” Gene Pitney (1963): Imagine your sweetie writing you a letter to say, “Sorry, honey, but I was on my way home when I met this real hottie at a cheap motel and damn, we hooked up big time! And let me tell you exactly how it happened in excruciating detail!” And then your now-ex does just that. Yes, you can get the play-by-play of how the love of your life cheated on you while you waited patiently at home, and you can live with the satisfaction of knowing that your sugar dumpling broke up with you in a letter! Oh, there’s nothing wrong with “Tulsa” if you remove the lyrics. It has an engaging melody (courtesy of Burt Bacharach), and Pitney’s record features a stylish vocal performance and a spicy Latin-flavored arrangement (Bacharach again). But Hal David—who tended to be a thoughtful, sensitive lyricist—came up with some pretty mean-spirited material this time around. If it weren’t so deliciously salacious, it would be garbage. And again, that melody!
“Intuition,” Jewel (2003): The gentle guitar-strumming singer/songwriter belts out an aggressive dance-pop tune in which she drops names like Sheryl Crow, paying tribute to J Lo’s ass in the process. If it weren’t so cleverly written, beguilingly arranged, and well-performed, it would be laughable.
“Getcha Back,” The Beach Boys (1985): You know from the heavily processed drums—with every fourth beat sounding like somebody opening and abruptly closing the door to the world’s biggest echo chamber—that this is an ‘80s pop record. The corny synthesized saxophone sounds merely drive that point home. And it’s simultaneously pleasing and disconcerting to hear The Beach Boys—a band that had one of the most distinctive vocal sounds of the ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s—doing a near-perfect impersonation of The 4 Seasons. The nasal lead vocals and falsetto refrain bear a striking similarity to Frankie Valli, while the band’s clipped chant of “get-cha back, bay-bay” makes one wonder whether Mr. Valli’s fellow “Jersey Boys” sat in on this session. This case of vocal identity disorder, in the context of a quintessentially ‘80s pop sound, would be enough to qualify “Getcha Back” as a guilty pleasure, but the lyrics take the cake: “Took me back, darling, to that time in my car/When you cried all night ‘cause we’d gone too far.” Amazing how these guys were in their 40s and it was 1985, yet they were singing lyrics that would have been more fitting for a bunch of 20-somethings in 1965. Or were they? When Mike Love asks, “If I leave her and you leave him/Can we ever get it back again?” he genuinely sounds like a middle-aged loser who regrets his youthful indiscretions and wants to reach way back in time to regain his past glories. We know she won’t let him, but again, the melody is infectious, the vocal hooks are addictive, and Steve Levine’s production is so unabashedly flamboyant that it’s hard to walk away from this recording once it has started playing.
“Rama Lama Ding Dong,” The Edsels (1958, 1961): So nice they released it twice, but it didn’t become a hit until the second time around. There were a lot of novelty songs in the early days of rock ‘n’ roll, but this one is—here comes that word again—extreme: “I’ve got a girl named Rama Lama Lama Lama Ding Dong! She’s everything to me, Rama Lama Lama Lama Ding Dong!” Even the arrangement is pretty goofy, almost an overwrought parody of ‘50s rock ‘n’ roll bands and doo-wop conventions. An archly deep-voiced, mumbling bass singer babbles and stutters the title and offers some barbershop quartet-like bom-bom’s in a split second or two before noticeably taking a breath so that he can continue singing on the bridge. The lead singer wails oooh’s and ooooweee’s in an equally over-the-top falsetto and jumps into an emphatic tone in the most bizarre places: “I’ve got a GIRL named…rama lama LAMA lama ding dong…” All of this while the backup band chugs along in perpetual double-time, the obligatory sax solo sounding much too forceful considering the extremely fluffy lyrics. Simply put, the whole affair is absurd, and that’s what makes it so fascinating. Those who made it a hit were probably not thinking in such terms, however. Indeed, the best way to enjoy this oddity is to stop analyzing it and apply an old American Bandstand adage: “It’s got a good beat and you can dance to it.”
“Telephone Line,” Electric Light Orchestra (1976): Some of ELO’s work is truly brilliant, but some of it is so campy and/or derivative that I have to enjoy it with a certain sense of self-consciousness. I really shouldn’t like such a shameless pastiche as “Telephone Line.” The opening lines (“Hello. How are you? Have you been alright?”) are a little too reminiscent of The Easybeats’ “Hello, How Are You” (“Hello. How are you? It’s good to see you here.”) and are sung in a remarkably similar melody. The phrase “blue days, black nights” is the title of a Buddy Holly song, which can’t be a coincidence considering ELO leader Jeff Lynne’s love of early rock ‘n’ roll. Meanwhile, how did a string of doo-wop and girl-group nonsense syllables such as “doo-wop, doo be doo-doo-wop, doo-wah-doo-lay-ya-yang” end up in a tender love ballad from the ‘70s? Lynne has always had a tendency to wear his influences on his sleeve, but here he goes a tad overboard. No matter. He sings the song with so much emotion, and the orchestration and harmonies are so superb that when all is said and done, this is a great record. A shameless pastiche, but an exemplary one.
“Ain’t Got No Home,” Clarence “Frogman” Henry (1956): “I love to sing,” he proclaims, adding, “I’ll sing like a girl, and I’ll sing like a frog.” And so he proceeds to sing like a girl. And sing like a frog. Enough said.
[Note: At the time of this writing, all of these tracks can be downloaded from iTunes. In the case of “Ain’t Got No Home,” beware of latter-day re-recordings. The original version is on the album Ain’t Got No Home: The Best of Clarence “Frogman” Henry.]
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
The music industry has produced many guilty pleasures. These are songs and recordings that some critics, historians, and other “serious” music connoisseurs like to scoff at. But not me. I am brave enough to admit that I like—nay, love each and every one of these naughty indulgences. And I’m not alone; every one of the following made the Top 40 on at least one major Billboard chart.
“Girlfriend,” Avril Lavigne (2007): Lavigne shouts bitchy lyrics in a cheerleader style over a stomping beat, creating the feeling that a bunch of punk wannabes have infiltrated and commandeered a Gwen Stefani session. But consider the actual lyrical content: “Hey you! I don’t like your girlfriend! I think you need a new one! […] I’m the motherfuckin’ princess!” As if this didn’t already sound less like a song and more like a drunk chick trying to pick up a bar patron who’s clearly on a date, Avril lets you know that you ain’t heard nothin’ yet: “She’s like, so whatever!” But then she drops the line that makes it all worthwhile: “You could do so much better.” And that’s what makes this number so special: Lavigne may be ridiculously self-absorbed, but deep down inside she thinks this guy deserves better than the airhead he settled for. Aww, isn’t that sweet? Well, even if it’s not, the tune is so catchy and the beat so danceable that no one really needs to care. [July 10, 2007 update: Another reason for “Girlfriend” to be a guilty pleasure. According to The Associated Press, Lavigne is being sued by members of the ‘70s band The Rubinoos for ripping off their classic song “I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend.” My advice is to acknowledge guilt and settle this one out of court.]
“Don’t You (Forget About Me),” Simple Minds (1985): A lot of hits from the ‘80s qualify as guilty pleasures, but usually because they’re so loud and cheesy. Few ‘80s classics are as quietly bizarre as this one. For one thing, it’s a clumsily structured composition. The title line seems to constitute the chorus until it shows up elsewhere in the song, sung with the exact same melody. The lyrics appear to flow in a free-form, stream-of-consciousness manner until the eyebrow-raising statement “I’ll be alone dancin’, you know it baby” reappears out of nowhere. The band’s treatment of this peculiar tune is replete with all the usual ‘80s pop/rock gimmicks: guitar strings plucked frantically so as to sound like teeth chattering, synthesizers chiming in with computerized noises worthy of a low-budget sci-fi flick. But the mix is rather unusual, with everything drowned in echo and compression and the drums pushed so far ahead of the other instruments that the beat nearly knocks a hole in your chest. Lead singer Jim Kerr delivers most of the song in such a creepy, nervous whisper that he sounds like a stalker rather than a desperate lover. After what seems to be a bridge passage in which Kerr pleads and begs, “Will you call my name?” you might think that the song will return to the chorus, but no—in the most un-rock ‘n’ roll moment on any record to score high on the rock charts (#1 on Billboard’s Album Rock listing), Kerr leaps into that unforgettable rideout: “I said laaaaa, la la la laaaaa, la la la laaaaa, la la la la la la la la la laaaaaaa…” The whole record is so strange that it just shouldn’t work. But somehow, it does. Apparently it owes much of its hit status to its inclusion in the movie The Breakfast Club; I don’t even remember that film and yet I fell in love with this song anyway. The truth really is stranger than fiction.
“I Need Somebody,” ? & the Mysterians (1966): In 1966, these guys hit #1 with the amazing “96 Tears,” one of the earliest punk rock records. On the follow-up single, they concoct an R&B-infused stomper which allows them to display their inherent quirks to (almost) the fullest extent. Organist Frank Rodriguez plays a standard R&B riff over and over and over again while his fellow Mysterians attack their instruments with far more attention to volume than, you know, playing the right notes or anything. Lead singer ?—that’s his name, dammit!—shouts across the band’s endless riffing in such an unmelodic style that we might as well just call it rapping, free associating the lyrics to the point that many of them don’t make the least bit of sense (“I have a love that can make love”???). When Rodriguez breaks out into “Mary Had A Little Lamb” mid-song, you know that you just can’t take this record seriously. It’s not supposed to be a joke, but it sure is funny! A lot of people think that “96 Tears” was this band’s only hit, but “I Need Somebody” actually made it to #22 on Billboard’s Hot 100.
“I Likes To Do It,” The People’s Choice (1971): The most obscure number in this roundup, “I Likes To Do It” broke into the Top 40 of Billboard’s Hot 100 (the main pop chart at the time) and the Top 10 of that publication’s R&B listing in the summer of ’71. It was the first hit for the Philly funk band that would later score with the disco-ish “Do It Any Way You Wanna,” and like much funky music before and since, “I Likes To Do It” broke away from the traditional patterns of song structure. But this one was pretty extreme. I have friends who toil for hours, days, even weeks writing songs that have, um, melodies and, uh, you know, lyrics. These guys were too smart for that. Just some simple, primitive keyboard riffing, a shuffling drumbeat, syncopated basslines, and some scatting. Oh, and somebody beating the living daylight out of a tambourine. That’s it. “I likes to do it, y’all, hey hey! [scatting] I likes to DO IT, Y’ALL, hey hey! [more scatting]” On some level, it’s wrong that I am such a big fan of this record. And on that same level, it’s even worse that this record became a hit. But I guarantee you, once you’ve heard it, you won’t be able to get it out of your head. Even if you hate it.
“…Baby One More Time,” Britney Spears (1998): I don’t know what it is about the Swedish, but they have long had a knack for making attention-grabbing pop music. Producer Max Martin continued that tradition here, building on the in-your-face character of his memorable productions for Robyn (“Do You Know What It Takes,” “Show Me Love”) simply by adding more clutter to the basic formula. Layer upon layer of vocals, instruments and sound effects popping out everywhere, a two-note piano riff applied in such a dramatic fashion as to sound profound—“overproduced splendor,” I used to call it. But then there was the star of our show, Ms. Spears herself. Any suspicions that Britney was poised to become the next great American singer were laid to rest as soon as she opened her mouth and let out a trashy “Oh, baybay baybay” in that piercing teenaged voice of hers. Her performance throughout this debut hit set the stage for her entire music career thus far: delightfully overblown, proudly sleazy, struggling to hit the right notes but not always succeeding, and often substituting panting or moaning for actual singing. With this record, she established herself as an unmistakably manufactured popstar, relying on creative production and infectious material rather than any noticeable talent of her own. Martin, with his keen ear and a finger constantly placed on the pulse of the market, delivered the goods. And as a slightly smitten 17-year-old who fell head over heels with this recording during his senior year of high school, I had no idea that Spears would someday become a total wreck, with all the sad, sordid details of her personal life on display for the world to see. Normally such a development would make an artist’s music harder to enjoy; in Britney’s case, it has merely increased the “guilty pleasure” quotient.
“24 Hours From Tulsa,” Gene Pitney (1963): Imagine your sweetie writing you a letter to say, “Sorry, honey, but I was on my way home when I met this real hottie at a cheap motel and damn, we hooked up big time! And let me tell you exactly how it happened in excruciating detail!” And then your now-ex does just that. Yes, you can get the play-by-play of how the love of your life cheated on you while you waited patiently at home, and you can live with the satisfaction of knowing that your sugar dumpling broke up with you in a letter! Oh, there’s nothing wrong with “Tulsa” if you remove the lyrics. It has an engaging melody (courtesy of Burt Bacharach), and Pitney’s record features a stylish vocal performance and a spicy Latin-flavored arrangement (Bacharach again). But Hal David—who tended to be a thoughtful, sensitive lyricist—came up with some pretty mean-spirited material this time around. If it weren’t so deliciously salacious, it would be garbage. And again, that melody!
“Intuition,” Jewel (2003): The gentle guitar-strumming singer/songwriter belts out an aggressive dance-pop tune in which she drops names like Sheryl Crow, paying tribute to J Lo’s ass in the process. If it weren’t so cleverly written, beguilingly arranged, and well-performed, it would be laughable.
“Getcha Back,” The Beach Boys (1985): You know from the heavily processed drums—with every fourth beat sounding like somebody opening and abruptly closing the door to the world’s biggest echo chamber—that this is an ‘80s pop record. The corny synthesized saxophone sounds merely drive that point home. And it’s simultaneously pleasing and disconcerting to hear The Beach Boys—a band that had one of the most distinctive vocal sounds of the ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s—doing a near-perfect impersonation of The 4 Seasons. The nasal lead vocals and falsetto refrain bear a striking similarity to Frankie Valli, while the band’s clipped chant of “get-cha back, bay-bay” makes one wonder whether Mr. Valli’s fellow “Jersey Boys” sat in on this session. This case of vocal identity disorder, in the context of a quintessentially ‘80s pop sound, would be enough to qualify “Getcha Back” as a guilty pleasure, but the lyrics take the cake: “Took me back, darling, to that time in my car/When you cried all night ‘cause we’d gone too far.” Amazing how these guys were in their 40s and it was 1985, yet they were singing lyrics that would have been more fitting for a bunch of 20-somethings in 1965. Or were they? When Mike Love asks, “If I leave her and you leave him/Can we ever get it back again?” he genuinely sounds like a middle-aged loser who regrets his youthful indiscretions and wants to reach way back in time to regain his past glories. We know she won’t let him, but again, the melody is infectious, the vocal hooks are addictive, and Steve Levine’s production is so unabashedly flamboyant that it’s hard to walk away from this recording once it has started playing.
“Rama Lama Ding Dong,” The Edsels (1958, 1961): So nice they released it twice, but it didn’t become a hit until the second time around. There were a lot of novelty songs in the early days of rock ‘n’ roll, but this one is—here comes that word again—extreme: “I’ve got a girl named Rama Lama Lama Lama Ding Dong! She’s everything to me, Rama Lama Lama Lama Ding Dong!” Even the arrangement is pretty goofy, almost an overwrought parody of ‘50s rock ‘n’ roll bands and doo-wop conventions. An archly deep-voiced, mumbling bass singer babbles and stutters the title and offers some barbershop quartet-like bom-bom’s in a split second or two before noticeably taking a breath so that he can continue singing on the bridge. The lead singer wails oooh’s and ooooweee’s in an equally over-the-top falsetto and jumps into an emphatic tone in the most bizarre places: “I’ve got a GIRL named…rama lama LAMA lama ding dong…” All of this while the backup band chugs along in perpetual double-time, the obligatory sax solo sounding much too forceful considering the extremely fluffy lyrics. Simply put, the whole affair is absurd, and that’s what makes it so fascinating. Those who made it a hit were probably not thinking in such terms, however. Indeed, the best way to enjoy this oddity is to stop analyzing it and apply an old American Bandstand adage: “It’s got a good beat and you can dance to it.”
“Telephone Line,” Electric Light Orchestra (1976): Some of ELO’s work is truly brilliant, but some of it is so campy and/or derivative that I have to enjoy it with a certain sense of self-consciousness. I really shouldn’t like such a shameless pastiche as “Telephone Line.” The opening lines (“Hello. How are you? Have you been alright?”) are a little too reminiscent of The Easybeats’ “Hello, How Are You” (“Hello. How are you? It’s good to see you here.”) and are sung in a remarkably similar melody. The phrase “blue days, black nights” is the title of a Buddy Holly song, which can’t be a coincidence considering ELO leader Jeff Lynne’s love of early rock ‘n’ roll. Meanwhile, how did a string of doo-wop and girl-group nonsense syllables such as “doo-wop, doo be doo-doo-wop, doo-wah-doo-lay-ya-yang” end up in a tender love ballad from the ‘70s? Lynne has always had a tendency to wear his influences on his sleeve, but here he goes a tad overboard. No matter. He sings the song with so much emotion, and the orchestration and harmonies are so superb that when all is said and done, this is a great record. A shameless pastiche, but an exemplary one.
“Ain’t Got No Home,” Clarence “Frogman” Henry (1956): “I love to sing,” he proclaims, adding, “I’ll sing like a girl, and I’ll sing like a frog.” And so he proceeds to sing like a girl. And sing like a frog. Enough said.
[Note: At the time of this writing, all of these tracks can be downloaded from iTunes. In the case of “Ain’t Got No Home,” beware of latter-day re-recordings. The original version is on the album Ain’t Got No Home: The Best of Clarence “Frogman” Henry.]
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Lovers...Electrified!
[January 16, 2008 update: The following feature holds little more than historical significance. Lovers Electric, the duo in question, have changed their sound and you will no longer find the tracks described herein on iTunes. I decided not to remove this feature because it is one of the few in-depth pieces published on the duo before they reinvented themselves. Enjoy.]
One of my favorite contemporary artists is the delightfully quirky Australian pop singer and songwriter Butterfly Boucher. When Butterfly announced to her MySpace friends that her sister Eden has a band worth checking out, I wasn’t sure what to expect; after all, Butterfly was hardly in a position to judge Eden’s act objectively. Luckily, I needn’t have worried. Eden and her husband David do indeed “make beautiful music together” under the name Lovers Electric. Imagine your favorite ‘80s pop songs played by a leading ‘90s alternative band and filtered through the garage rock revivalism of the 2000s. This is pretty much what you get on the duo’s self-titled debut album, available worldwide exclusively through iTunes. Hard-charging guitar-based rockers, bouncy pop sing-alongs, and gorgeous piano-driven ballads are all characterized by breathy vocals, impeccable harmonies, and a gritty production that stands in gloriously sharp contrast to the smoothly polished sound so prevalent in today’s music.
David and Eden write catchy, memorable, melodic songs whose lyrics contain much wisdom and insight into the inner workings of human relationships and the troubled state of today’s world. “I Don’t Know” makes the assertion, “Everything happens for a reason, I know/Some of it matters, and some things are best left alone”—a simple statement, but all the more powerful for it. With lines like “We can’t stay to fade away; the end is not a means for me,” the epic “Is It Over?” is a perfect anthem for anyone who’s ever been in a relationship that teetered on the edge for a seeming eternity, while “Won’t Give In” and “Not Good Enough” make us all take a look at ourselves and rethink what we have come to accept as correct in life: “Our eyes are closed, but we’re awake as we make our choice—this is not good enough.” Towards the end of the album, the Lovers throw listeners a real curveball with “Whatever You Want,” whose jaunty pub-pop feel and multilayered storyline prove that these awesome Aussies can adapt their distinctive sound to surprising musical and lyrical settings. David and Eden have been continent-hopping in their bid for musical world domination, but they generously agreed to stay still long enough to do an e-mail interview with me. Since they’d already answered all the usual questions for a fine web feature by radio station KGRL (from which I obtained my background information), I thought I’d indulge my knack for making inquiries that are a little out of the ordinary. Here are the results:
SJ: As I understand it, David plays guitar and keyboards and sings background, and Eden sings lead. Who are some of the other musicians heard on the album? Are they part of the touring band for full band gigs?
David: Well there is really only one other main musician beside the two of us on the album. Our good friend Fuzz Townshend played drums on all the tracks. He also is part of our live band. We also had someone play cello and someone play harp for us on a couple of tracks.
SJ: Your songwriting process is a joint effort, but Eden, you've taken credit for composing many of the melodies. Do you think those melodies have a distinctive or unusual character because you don't play an instrument?
Eden: I've always done a lot of singing, but never have played much music, so I'm sure it has an effect. But we both write the melodies, depends on the day...
SJ: Most of your songs sound happy, but few of them are! Is this deliberate?
David: I guess it's just how they turn out, we like energetic music but I think life is bittersweet, I guess our music is probably a reflection of how we see life.
SJ: Songs like "Won't Give In" and "Not Good Enough" paint a picture of today's world as an almost Huxleyan dystopia in which people would rather be brainwashed and overly medicated than truly enlightened. Is there a specific philosophical or even religious basis to these sentiments?
David: I definitely don't trust society, quite often the things that are generally accepted are not the things which are most helpful for people always. I think there's a temptation for us these days to fix problems with medication rather than lifestyle. It's not always that simple but there's a lot of people struggling and looking for ways to fix it up.
SJ: A lot of the tunes on the album address the trials and tribulations of human relationships, especially those that are failing to live up to their potential—a theme I have been all too familiar with lately! Is there any particular reason this is such a prominent theme in the album?
Eden: Well, a few of the songs were written at a time when lots of break-ups were happening around us. But we would like to think there is still hope in the words, even when it's sad.
SJ: "Whatever You Want" is so different from anything else on the album. How did that one come about?
Eden: That’s our oldest song in fact, it was written before any of the others. But it's a song we have always loved and wanted to put it on our first album. But that’s probably why it sounds so different.
SJ: Tell me about how the songs were arranged. Is there one person who had most of the ideas or did the arrangements emerge in a less formal manner?
David: Well, sometimes I'll write a whole song myself, sometimes we'll collaborate entirely. But with arranging and producing, it's very much a team thing. We are both very involved and a song isn't finished unless we are both happy with its arrangement.
SJ: Why release the album exclusively through iTunes?
Eden: It just kind of happened that we were in the UK/Europe iTunes office with our manger and got to know the guys in iTunes. So we released our album with them. Also, it's a far greater leap to release and distribute CDs into shops and we are just not that well known to make that worthwhile.
SJ: The album has a decidedly unpolished sound, which in my opinion works brilliantly in its favor. Was this intentional or just the result of the small-budget, DIY nature of the project?
David: Yeah, we really like that about the album too. It did have a lot to do with the equipment we had. All we had was a very small studio, a laptop and a few other bits and pieces, our mobile studio.
Many thanks to David and Eden for the interview.
For music and more information: http://www.loverselectric.com
http://www.myspace.com/loverselectric
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
One of my favorite contemporary artists is the delightfully quirky Australian pop singer and songwriter Butterfly Boucher. When Butterfly announced to her MySpace friends that her sister Eden has a band worth checking out, I wasn’t sure what to expect; after all, Butterfly was hardly in a position to judge Eden’s act objectively. Luckily, I needn’t have worried. Eden and her husband David do indeed “make beautiful music together” under the name Lovers Electric. Imagine your favorite ‘80s pop songs played by a leading ‘90s alternative band and filtered through the garage rock revivalism of the 2000s. This is pretty much what you get on the duo’s self-titled debut album, available worldwide exclusively through iTunes. Hard-charging guitar-based rockers, bouncy pop sing-alongs, and gorgeous piano-driven ballads are all characterized by breathy vocals, impeccable harmonies, and a gritty production that stands in gloriously sharp contrast to the smoothly polished sound so prevalent in today’s music.
David and Eden write catchy, memorable, melodic songs whose lyrics contain much wisdom and insight into the inner workings of human relationships and the troubled state of today’s world. “I Don’t Know” makes the assertion, “Everything happens for a reason, I know/Some of it matters, and some things are best left alone”—a simple statement, but all the more powerful for it. With lines like “We can’t stay to fade away; the end is not a means for me,” the epic “Is It Over?” is a perfect anthem for anyone who’s ever been in a relationship that teetered on the edge for a seeming eternity, while “Won’t Give In” and “Not Good Enough” make us all take a look at ourselves and rethink what we have come to accept as correct in life: “Our eyes are closed, but we’re awake as we make our choice—this is not good enough.” Towards the end of the album, the Lovers throw listeners a real curveball with “Whatever You Want,” whose jaunty pub-pop feel and multilayered storyline prove that these awesome Aussies can adapt their distinctive sound to surprising musical and lyrical settings. David and Eden have been continent-hopping in their bid for musical world domination, but they generously agreed to stay still long enough to do an e-mail interview with me. Since they’d already answered all the usual questions for a fine web feature by radio station KGRL (from which I obtained my background information), I thought I’d indulge my knack for making inquiries that are a little out of the ordinary. Here are the results:
SJ: As I understand it, David plays guitar and keyboards and sings background, and Eden sings lead. Who are some of the other musicians heard on the album? Are they part of the touring band for full band gigs?
David: Well there is really only one other main musician beside the two of us on the album. Our good friend Fuzz Townshend played drums on all the tracks. He also is part of our live band. We also had someone play cello and someone play harp for us on a couple of tracks.
SJ: Your songwriting process is a joint effort, but Eden, you've taken credit for composing many of the melodies. Do you think those melodies have a distinctive or unusual character because you don't play an instrument?
Eden: I've always done a lot of singing, but never have played much music, so I'm sure it has an effect. But we both write the melodies, depends on the day...
SJ: Most of your songs sound happy, but few of them are! Is this deliberate?
David: I guess it's just how they turn out, we like energetic music but I think life is bittersweet, I guess our music is probably a reflection of how we see life.
SJ: Songs like "Won't Give In" and "Not Good Enough" paint a picture of today's world as an almost Huxleyan dystopia in which people would rather be brainwashed and overly medicated than truly enlightened. Is there a specific philosophical or even religious basis to these sentiments?
David: I definitely don't trust society, quite often the things that are generally accepted are not the things which are most helpful for people always. I think there's a temptation for us these days to fix problems with medication rather than lifestyle. It's not always that simple but there's a lot of people struggling and looking for ways to fix it up.
SJ: A lot of the tunes on the album address the trials and tribulations of human relationships, especially those that are failing to live up to their potential—a theme I have been all too familiar with lately! Is there any particular reason this is such a prominent theme in the album?
Eden: Well, a few of the songs were written at a time when lots of break-ups were happening around us. But we would like to think there is still hope in the words, even when it's sad.
SJ: "Whatever You Want" is so different from anything else on the album. How did that one come about?
Eden: That’s our oldest song in fact, it was written before any of the others. But it's a song we have always loved and wanted to put it on our first album. But that’s probably why it sounds so different.
SJ: Tell me about how the songs were arranged. Is there one person who had most of the ideas or did the arrangements emerge in a less formal manner?
David: Well, sometimes I'll write a whole song myself, sometimes we'll collaborate entirely. But with arranging and producing, it's very much a team thing. We are both very involved and a song isn't finished unless we are both happy with its arrangement.
SJ: Why release the album exclusively through iTunes?
Eden: It just kind of happened that we were in the UK/Europe iTunes office with our manger and got to know the guys in iTunes. So we released our album with them. Also, it's a far greater leap to release and distribute CDs into shops and we are just not that well known to make that worthwhile.
SJ: The album has a decidedly unpolished sound, which in my opinion works brilliantly in its favor. Was this intentional or just the result of the small-budget, DIY nature of the project?
David: Yeah, we really like that about the album too. It did have a lot to do with the equipment we had. All we had was a very small studio, a laptop and a few other bits and pieces, our mobile studio.
Many thanks to David and Eden for the interview.
For music and more information: http://www.loverselectric.com
http://www.myspace.com/loverselectric
Copyright © 2007 S.J. Dibai. All rights reserved.
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