Category Archives: Sounds

Farewell to the Arena

Brown County Veterans Memorial Arena in Green Bay, WIsconsin

If you go to Wikipedia and search for the Brown County Veterans Memorial Arena in Green Bay, Wisconsin, this is the picture you’ll see. It’s from a dozen years ago, 2007, but that doesn’t matter. What you see now is what you saw then and pretty much what you’ve seen since forever.

Soon, though, they’ll be tearing down the Arena.

Earlier this month, they had the last concert — Bret Michaels, Lita Ford and Warrant, a show that was peak Green Bay. Today, they had the farewell ceremony, with speechifying from officials. But you could take home a set of four wooden seats for $50, so a bunch of regular folks turned out.

I saw two concerts at the Arena.

On Saturday, June 16, 1979, the young lady I’d been seeing for three months wanted to go to a show in her hometown. So we saw Eric Clapton with Muddy Waters opening.

It was one of the last dates on Clapton’s American tour in support of the “Backless” LP. Sadly, I remember almost nothing about this show, least of all anything Clapton may or may not have played. Others who claim to have been there say Clapton was pretty fried. Sorry, can’t confirm or refute that. My lingering memory of the show is of someone sitting up above us, throwing firecrackers down below.

I was 21, and this was only the sixth concert I’d ever seen.

(The lovely Janet and I are still together almost 40 years later. Important to note because of what follows.)

Ticket for Def Leppard show at the Brown County Veterans Memorial Arena in Green Bay, Wisconsin, on Wednesday, Dec. 9, 1992.

On Wednesday, Dec. 9, 1992, I accompanied another young lady who wanted to see a show at the Arena. So we saw Def Leppard.

The second young lady was a co-worker who was going through a separation or a divorce. She wanted to go, but not by herself. I was going, but I’d planned to go by myself. (Janet had no interest in seeing Def Leppard.) Understandably, there were certain rules for this outing. Everything had to be quite proper. It was.

We saw a tremendous show, a great rock band at the peak of its video-driven popularity. It came roughly halfway through their Adrenalize “Seven-Day Weekend” world tour, on which Def Leppard played 244 shows over 18 months. Ticket demand was so great that they added a second show in Green Bay, the show we saw. That almost never happens in Green Bay.

I remember a lot more about this show. So much energy. Def Leppard played the show in the round, a setup rarely seen in the Arena. Still not quite sure how the band got on stage without being noticed, but the stage was built up above the Arena floor. Whatever. Everything they played was great.

The Arena opened on Veterans Day 1958. Seating capacity has always been about 5,200. Elvis Presley played the Arena 42 years ago last night, on April 28, 1977. He performed 23 songs in a show that lasted 1 hour, 10 minutes.

There were hundreds of memorable shows at the Arena over almost 61 years. I’ve lived in Green Bay for roughly half that time, and I have no explanation for why I saw only two shows. For the record, here are some of the others …

Poster for Make the Scene for '67, a rock concert at the Brown County Veterans Memorial Arena on Aug. 29-31, 1967Bryan Adams, America, April Wine, the Association, the Beach Boys, the Beau Brummels, Pat Benatar, Chuck Berry, Len Berry, Black Oak Arkansas, Black Sabbath, Blue Oyster Cult, Bodeans, Brownsville Station, Canned Heat, Freddy Cannon, the Carpenters, Johnny Cash, the Changing Times, Harry Chapin, Cheap Trick, Chicago, Cinderella, Alice Cooper, the Cryan’ Shames, the Cyrkle, Damn Yankees, the Charlie Daniels Band, John Denver, Ronnie James Dio, the Doobie Brothers, Bob Dylan, Duke Ellington, Emerson Lake and Palmer, the Enemies, Faster Pussycat, Fleetwood Mac, Peter Frampton, the Front Line, Foghat, Foreigner, Rory Gallagher, Golden Earring, Bobby Goldsboro, Goo Goo Dolls, Great White, the Guess Who, MC Hammer, Head East, Heart, Herman’s Hermits, the Hollies, Hollywood Undead, John Lee Hooker, Danny Hutton, Bryan Hyland, the James Gang (with Tommy Bolin), Jefferson Starship, Waylon Jennings and the Waylors, Jethro Tull, Tom Jones, Judas Priest, Kansas, KISS, Korn, Leo Kottke, Lake, the Left Banke, the Lettermen, Huey Lewis and the News, Loggins and Messina, Loverboy, the Lovin’ Spoonful, Manassas, the McCoys, Megadeth, John Mellencamp, Metallica, the Monkees, Melba Montgomery, Montrose, Motley Crue, Nazareth, Nelson, New Colony Six, Ted Nugent, Ozzy Osbourne, Ozark Mountain Daredevils, Pantera, Papa Roach, Paris, Poison, Powerman 5000, Queensryche, Quiet Riot, Ratt, Renaissance, REO Speedwagon, the Robbs, Linda Ronstadt, David Lee Roth, Rush, Santana, Scorpions, Sha Na Na, Skid Row, Slade, Slaughter, Sonny and Cher, Soundgarden, Rick Springfield, Billy Squier, Starcastle, Stephen Stills, Steppenwolf, Styx, Supertramp, the Sweet, Tesla, This Moment, Richard and Linda Thompson, George Thorogood and the Delaware Destroyers, Three Dog Night, Triumph, Trooper, Robin Trower, the Turtles, UFO, Uriah Heep, Van Halen, White Lion, Wishbone Ash, Jesse Colin Young, Frank Zappa and ZZ Top.

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Filed under April 2019, Sounds

Scenes from the record convention

On the first gloriously sunny 50-degree day of spring in our corner of Wisconsin, a bunch of us stayed inside and went record digging.

More than 300 people turned out for the spring Green Bay Record Convention. I helped set up, then helped my friends run their table. Some of the things seen, heard and thought during all the digging …

— Anyone who tells you men aren’t high maintenance hasn’t met a couple of our record dealers.

One of them had a small bank of recessed spotlights over his crates. It hadn’t been turned on. “I can’t sell records in the dark!” this gent whined. Never mind that all the other lights in the room were on, including the white party bulbs strung from one side of the room to the other. Never mind also that no one else complained about the lighting.

Another one wanted a deal on a $25 record. He asked me whether we would go $20. Said it wasn’t my call and pointed him to my friends. He walked over to them. They were maybe 10 feet away. So of course the first thing out of his mouth is would they go $18. Oh, come on, sir.

— This was easily the strangest record we sold: “Factual Eyewitness Testimony of UFO Encounters.” The gent who bought it had no problem with it being $25.

— This was easily the second strangest record we sold. The guy who bought it — another of my friends — conceded that he may have been buying it for the cover alone.

— My friend Dave and I go back to the ’80s, when he ran a record store near the University of Wisconsin campus in Madison, and I bought records from him. Fast forward to recent years. Dave no longer has the store but sells records at shows and online. I still am buying records from Dave. Today, while digging through his crates, I held up a copy of “Shake and Push,” a 1982 record by the Morells, a roots-rock group from Missouri.

“I bought this from you at the store on Regent Street back in the ’80s,” I said.

“Yeah,” Dave said, “I used to get those directly from the band.”

Dave isn’t high-maintenance. He’s one of our respected elders, a longtime musician in addition to being a veteran record seller. When Dave talks, I listen.

Dave and another guy were digging through my friends’ crates while I was running the table. One of them mentioned Bob Seger’s great but hard-to-find “Back In ’72” LP, which I have. That got Dave to thinking out loud that maybe he ought to get a copy of “Heavy Music,” the compilation of early Bob Seger and the Last Heard singles released last year. Dave thought it might be a limited edition and seemed to doubt there would be a second pressing.

When the record show was over, I went across town and bought it. When Dave talks, I listen.

— Finally, one last thought: Does anyone buy Linda Ronstadt records anymore? Didn’t see anyone who bought one today. Haven’t seen anyone buy one in a long, long time.

Had someone been seeking the Linda Ronstadt record with that song on it, it would be this one from 1970, which I believe I saw in someone’s crates today.

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Filed under March 2019, Sounds

Over 12 years, a musical education

When this blog debuted 12 years ago this week, I knew plenty about Peter Tork and I knew nothing about Harvey Scales.

Fellow music bloggers hepped me to Harvey Scales, who was an underappreciated Wisconsin treasure. He’s well known to soul enthusiasts and to those who saw him 50 years ago on a Midwest circuit of clubs, college rathskellers, frat houses, roadhouses and beer bars. He died on Feb. 11. He was 77, maybe 78. When I posted word of his death in a couple of local history Facebook groups, the memories poured in from that long-gone scene:

“I remember being at the teen beer bar, Jack’s Point Bar on the Beach Road, Twistin’ Harvey singing and standing on the tabletops while twistin’ a white towel over his head. He was very good and got the place rockin’!” … “Threw me his sweaty shirt!” … “Twistin’ Harv was legendary and always drew a big crowd. They were so much fun!” … “First good R&B band I had ever heard. They really opened my eyes to a complete different style of music.” … “Twistin’ Harvey and the Seven Sounds blew my mind in the late ’60’s at some outdoor event in Appleton.”

I’m too young to have seen Harvey Scales in his prime, but I was fortunate to see latter-day versions of Harvey Scales and the Seven Sounds at a small outdoor show in 2010 and then in a steamy tent on the Fourth of July in 2013. Kinda felt like I was seeing one of the last of the soul and R&B revues.

Peter Tork’s passing on Feb. 21 was not unexpected. He also was 77. When Michael Nesmith and Micky Dolenz announced the most recent Monkees tour, I immediately got the sense that Tork sat it out because he didn’t feel up to touring. Whether that’s so, only those closest to him know.

“I have in general made no secret of the fact that all these recent years of Monkees-related projects, as fun as they’ve been, have taken up a lot of my time and energy,” Tork said a year ago, preferring to work on a blues record instead. “So, I’m shifting gears for now, but I wish the boys well.”

I’ve loved the Monkees since I was a kid in the ’60s. Truth be told, I don’t write about them enough. Wish I still had my Monkees cards and my Monkeemobile model. I still vividly remember the day my Monkeemobile’s roof got smooshed beyond repair. However, we still have all the records.

We were fortunate to see the Monkees in three different settings, in three wonderful shows. We started with Davy Jones solo in 2010, then the Davy-Micky-Peter lineup in 2011, then the Mike-Micky-Peter lineup in 2014. That’s Peter playing the red guitar at right in the latter show. Each time we saw Peter, he was the coolest, most relaxed guy on the stage.

When this blog debuted 12 years ago this week, I knew nothing about Mongo Santamaria, either.

It wasn’t all that long ago that my friend Larry Grogan — the proprietor of the mighty Funky 16 Corners blog and the host of WFMU’s “Testify!” — hepped me to him, too. Still exploring, still learning.

The record you see below is one recently found while digging and recently ripped on the turntable that sits just to my right in AM, Then FM world headquarters.

“I Thank You,” Mongo Santamaria, from “All Strung Out,” 1970.

Thanks for reading all these years, everyone, and thanks for hepping me to cool music like this. More to come!

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Filed under February 2019, Sounds

Taking stock of The Corporation

50 years ago, as January turned to February in the winter of 1969, a Milwaukee band was playing at Club Sahara, a popular place on the east side of Green Bay.

Lots of Milwaukee and Chicago bands made the rounds of Midwest clubs and roadhouses back then, and Club Sahara was one of those stops.

That week, that band was The Corporation. That week was quite a week for The Corporation, a six-piece group.

50 years ago this week, in the first week of February 1969, Capitol Records released The Corporation’s self-titled first album without the benefit of a single.

As The Corporation played Green Bay, some of the band members sat down with a writer from the local paper to talk about it all.

“Originality and experimentation are the marks of the 8-month-old group’s music. A high decibel count is also one of its telling points on stage,” my friend Warren Gerds wrote in his Night Beat column, trying to explain it all to the Green Bay Press-Gazette’s mostly older readers.

“The emphasis is on sound, loud and relying on complex harmonies. The music could be called electric jazz at certain points and underground at others.”

Uh, yeah, well …

“We don’t like to define our music in any special class. We’re not strictly an underground group. We like to appeal to everybody,” drummer Nick Kondos said.

“We just want to do our own thing,” bass player Ken Berdoll said.

Gerds continued …

“The Corporation is unique. That’s probably why Capitol, a record producer and song publisher, likes it. It slams out original songs, and when it does play other groups’ hits, the songs are altered to match its involved style. Not everyone will like the music of The Corporation. Guy Lombardo lovers would cringe at its way-out approach.”

Well, this was 1969. Conventional newspapers struggled to bridge the generation gap. My friend Warren, just a couple of years out of college, was assigned that thankless task.

The second side of “The Corporation” is taken up by one song, a cover of John Coltrane’s “India.” It’s an epic bit of psych and jazz rock, a trip that goes on for 19 minutes, 27 seconds.

“It’s a very free song,” Berdoll said.

“Because of this ‘freeness,’ The Corporation reaches for the hip in most songs,” Gerds wrote.

So dig the hip.

Here’s “India” by The Corporation, from “The Corporation,” 1969.

And here’s the entire album, released 50 years ago this week.

The band members, from left on the album cover: Danny Peil (vocals), Patrick McCarthy (organ and trombone), Gerard Smith (lead guitar and vocals), Ken Berdoll (bass and vocals), Nick Kondos (drums and vocals) and his brother John Kondos (guitar, flute, harp, piano and vocals).

Some accounts incorrectly identify The Corporation as a Detroit band. That’s because Detroit producer John Rhys heard them at a Milwaukee club and pitched them to Capitol Records, who signed them. “The Corporation” was recorded at Tera Shirma Studios in Detroit.

It was a regional hit, reaching No. 3 on the charts in Milwaukee in March 1969. However, it reached only No. 197 on the Billboard Hot LPs chart. Capitol also released “I Want To Get Out Of My Grave” b/w “Highway” as a single in 1969.

After that debut album, The Corporation had a falling-out with Capitol Records, which dropped them.

In 1970, the group released two more albums — “Get On Our Swing” and “Hassels In My Mind” — and a single on Age of Aquarius, a custom label pressed by Wisconsin’s Cuca Records. Not long after that, The Corporation dissolved.

(As always, a hat tip to Gary Myers for his indispensable research books on Wisconsin bands.)

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Filed under February 2019, Sounds

I gotta get out of here

They say the wind chill could reach 40 below tomorrow. Maybe the next day, too.

It’s a flashback to 1972. We’d just moved. New house, new school, for the fifth time in nine years. Kids are resilient, but for me, that was the toughest move.

At 14, during my last year of junior high, I’d finally made it into a nice circle of friends. Not the popular kids, but a group you might call the class leaders. Got to know some girls. Got invited to a couple of parties. All innocent enough, yet trusted enough to not spill the beans when some of the basketball players drank too much at another kind of party.

Then, BOOM. I went from junior high in Sheboygan one week directly into high school near Wausau, 180 miles to the northwest, the next week. So much for freshman orientation.

Being the new kid and trying to make new friends again is hard enough. Then the temperature dropped out of sight for two weeks. Thus the flashback.

Even the radio — my constant companion — added to the isolation I felt. Part of it was navigating my way to a new home on the dial. The local FM radio station, top 40 during the day, free form at night, was quite different than AM Top 40, the only format I’d ever known.

The songs on the radio didn’t help.

Neil Young’s “Heart of Gold.” America’s “Horse With No Name.” The Addrisi Brothers’ “We’ve Got To Get It On Again.” Don McLean’s “American Pie.” Downers, bummers, vaguely haunting, reflecting some kind of loneliness or loss, reinforcing a sense of isolation. Exactly where my head was at. I hear those songs today, and I still keenly feel what I felt during that bitterly cold winter of 1972. They aren’t among my favorites, save for one, Nilsson’s “Without You.”

Yet winter always gives way to spring. Track and field season started. I met a guy, my fellow team manager, who has been my friend ever since. We bonded over songs on the radio and lots of other things. More friends came along. More opportunities came along.

Better songs came along, too. I got the hang of FM radio, particularly the late-night free-form portion. But there was some adjustment necessary. As in the realization and acceptance that, all right, these are the kinds of songs they play on the radio now. Like this one.

“Halo of Flies,” Alice Cooper, from “Killer,” 1971. This is one of the first records I bought that first year in that new place. My copy still has the 1972 calendar that came with it.

 

 

 

 

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Filed under January 2019, Sounds

A revelation, a toast and a wish

Christmas begins like this.

An 11-year-old Michael Jackson will forever convey to me the excitement of Christmas morning. That Christmas songs could sound like this was a revelation to this 13-year-old kid in 1970.

“One more time, yeah! Santa Claus is comin’ to town. Oh, yeah!”

“Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town,” the Jackson 5, 1970, from “A Motown Christmas,” 1973.

Christmas continues with a toast.

“Christmas bells, those Christmas bells
“Ringing through the land
“Bringing peace to all the world
“And good will to man”

“Snoopy’s Christmas,” the Royal Guardsmen, from “Snoopy and His Friends,” 1967.

Christmas concludes with a wish.

A very Merry Christmas
And a happy new year
Let’s hope it’s a good one
Without any fear

“Happy Xmas (War Is Over),” John Lennon and Yoko Ono, the Plastic Ono Band and the Harlem Community Choir, released as a single, 1971. I’d always had it on “Shaved Fish,” the 1975 compilation LP from Lennon and the Plastic Ono Band, until I found the single last year.

Merry Christmas, mein friends!

Enjoy your holidays, everyone!

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Filed under Christmas music, December 2018, Sounds

Our Christmas Eve traditions

The first one is for our friend Rob in Pennsylvania.

Eleven years ago now, Rob declared Irma Thomas’ rendition of “O Holy Night to be “goosebump-inducing stuff.” It still is.

“O Holy Night,” Irma Thomas, from “A Creole Christmas,” 1990. It’s out of print and not available digitally, but Amazon will rip you a copy. It’s also on “MOJO’s Festive Fifteen,” the fine Christmas compilation CD that came with the January 2011 issue of MOJO magazine, if you can find it.

The other, of course, is our traditional Christmas Eve post.

On a winter day more than 45 years ago, Louis Armstrong went to work in the den at his home at 34-56 107th Street in Corona, Queens, New York.

That day — Friday, Feb. 26, 1971 — he recorded this:

“The Night Before Christmas (A Poem),” Louis Armstrong, 1971, from “The Stash Christmas Album,” 1985. That LP is out of print, but the original 7-inch single (Continental CR 1001) seems to be fairly common.

(This is the sleeve for that 45. You could have bought it for 25 cents if you also bought a carton of Kent, True, Newport or Old Gold cigarettes.)

There’s no music. Just “Louis Satchmo Armstrong talkin’ to all the kids … from all over the world … at Christmas time,” reading Clement Clarke Moore’s classic poem in a warm, gravelly voice.

“But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight, ‘Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night. A very good night.’

“And that goes for Satchmo, too. (Laughs softly.) Thank you.”

It was the last thing he ever recorded. Satchmo, who was 69 at the time, died a little over four months later, in July 1971.

You just never know.

Embrace the moment, especially at Christmas.

Enjoy your holidays, everyone.

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Filed under Christmas music, December 2018, Sounds