They drove 75 miles just to spend two or three hours digging through all the vinyl at the Green Bay Record Convention on Saturday. A dad and his son.
The son — who seemed to be 13, maybe 14, so probably a seventh- or eighth-grader — carried a red canvas bag. By noon, it was full of his finds.
The kid with the red bag eagerly chatted with Steve, the friendly gent selling bowls made of old vinyl records in one of the far corners of the Eagles Club. They compared notes on all kinds of bands, but mostly vintage metal bands. They chatted for a long time, getting deep into specifics.
I eavesdropped. You recognize it when you’ve been down that road. That laser focus. That tremendous detail. That just might be an Asperger’s kid, I thought. Which is cool.
Thinking that gracious vinyl bowl seller might need a break, I started chatting up the kid with the red bag.
“So, what did you find today?”
The kid starts pulling LPs from his red bag.
“That’s a good one.”
Then he pulled out a Krokus record. Sorry, I’m not up on my Krokus.
“That’s another good one.”
Then he pulled out some more — he had about a half-dozen in all — including this record.
“Oh, that’s a good one, too.”
Then the kid dropped the bomb on me.
“It’s red vinyl,” he said.
“Oh, I gotta see that.”
The kid hands it over, and I pull out the record. Yep, rich, red vinyl.
Gotta be honest. One thought flashed through my head. You know the one. Ooooh, wish I’d found that. Never mind that I’ve had it on black vinyl since the ’70s.
Then, just as quickly, that thought passed.
Nope, it’s more fun for that kid to have that red vinyl.
I didn’t look close enough to see whether that was the original red vinyl from 1973 or last year’s reissue on red vinyl. Doesn’t really matter, and I suspect it doesn’t matter to the kid with the red bag.
As he pulled out his records, a small piece of paper floated to the floor at his feet.
“That your wish list?”
No, the kid said, they’re my notes. Indeed, as he made the rounds at the record show and chatted up dealers, he wrote down their tips on what kinds of music to check out next.
Then Dad turned up, carrying three plastic bags with a couple dozen LPs in them. Dad’s in the picture above. He’s the tall guy in the light blue cap and the adidas jacket, digging away on the left.
Dad and the kid and Steve the friendly vinyl bowl seller chatted for a while longer, again in tremendous detail. Guessing Dad might be Asperger’s, too. A lot of us in the record-digging business might be. Which, again, is cool.
Hope the kid with the red bag enjoys these J. Geils cuts as much as I did. When “Bloodshot” was released in 1973, I wasn’t much older than he is now.
“Back To Get Ya,” “Don’t Try To Hide It” and “Southside Shuffle,” J. Geils Band, all from “Bloodshot,” 1973. Also available digitally.
“Oooh, how was it?” was the first thing everyone wanted to know after we saw our first Bruce Springsteen show on Thursday night in Milwaukee.
My friend Doug has preached to me about Springsteen since 1978. His email arrived late Friday morning. The subject line: “Bruce review?” His only question: “You gonna follow him around the country now — a groupie?”
“Ah, wouldn’t go that far,” I told Doug. “But gotta see one of the great performers of our time.”
Many of my friends are Springsteen fans, and I understand and appreciate their passion for The Boss. Doug saw Springsteen in St. Paul on Monday night, and were all of us younger, he’d almost certainly have been in Milwaukee with us on Thursday night. I’m delighted for my friend Rob, who again scored a great seat and got a high-five from Springsteen as he left the Bradley Center stage and waded into the crowd during the early part of the show.
But as I’ve written before, I don’t share their passion for Springsteen. I don’t have any Springsteen records, much to our son’s chagrin.
So, to everyone who asked me — a casual Springsteen fan — what I thought about my first Springsteen show, I said …
It was like visiting church.
You’re among friendly people who know all the songs, all the words, all the chants, all the rituals. They know the drill. You, however, know only some of the songs, only some of the words, and have only a vague sense of what to expect.
My friend Doug, ever savvy when it comes to Springsteen, felt for us, saying: “This was not a good starter concert because of ‘The River.’ Limited the greatest hit segments.”
I’d hoped to hear more covers, but so it goes. Having to do all 20 songs on “The River” LP necessarily limits the rest of the show. Were I more savvy, I’d have realized that hearing “Jungleland,” apparently added to the set list on the fly, was a big deal.
No complaints, though. Delighted to have seen what was by all accounts a typical Springsteen show, lasting more than three hours with no breaks. Enjoyed hearing “Because The Night,” long one of Janet’s favorite songs.
Well, one complaint. Who goes to a Springsteen show, then talks throughout the entire thing? The two Illinois couples behind us, that’s who. Just random shit and running commentary all night long, in flatland voices that pierced through the noise. Would you just SHUT UP? You aren’t at home watching TV, folks.
But we’d go see Springsteen again. Next time, though, we’ll go with Doug.
The set list from Milwaukee on March 3, 2016:
“Meet Me in the City,” “The Ties That Bind,” “Sherry Darling,” “Jackson Cage,” “Two Hearts,” “Independence Day,” “Hungry Heart,” “Out in the Street,” “Crush On You,” “You Can Look (But You Better Not Touch),” “I Wanna Marry You,” “The River,” “Point Blank,” “Cadillac Ranch,” “I’m a Rocker,” “Fade Away,” “Stolen Car,” “Ramrod,” “The Price You Pay,” “Drive All Night,” “Wreck on the Highway,” “Badlands,” “No Surrender,” “Lonesome Day,” “Because the Night,” “Jungleland,” “The Rising,” “Thunder Road,” “Born to Run,” “Dancing in the Dark,” “Rosalita (Come Out Tonight),” “Tenth Avenue Freeze-out,” “Shout.”
We interrupt our appreciation of music legends still with us for an appreciation of something else still with us.
AM, Then FM is quietly celebrating its ninth anniversary in the blogosphere.
It arrived on the scene during the last week of February 2007.
It gradually gained a modest group of regular visitors, thanks to gracious and kind support from fellow bloggers who remain friends to this day. Back then, there were many blogs, many readers. Times change.
When AM, Then FM debuted …
— Our son had just turned 12 and was in sixth grade. He’s now 21, a college junior, performing in still another play this week and heading to New York on a spring break theatre tour in a couple of weeks.
— I’d just marked 29 years in the news business. I’m no longer in the news business.
Yep, times change.
But I’ll continue to buy records and talk about them here as if we were in the same room, listening to them and sharing our takes on them.
Your continued loitering is much appreciated. We’ll keep on keepin’ on.
I wanna say I love the life I live. And I’m gonna live the life I love. Up here on Cloud 9.
“Cloud Nine,” the Temptations, 1969, from “The Motown Story” box set, 1970. It’s out of print. This cut features a minute-long intro with Otis Edwards discussing how they came to record the song during the fall of 1968. He insists it’s about the state of black life at the time, and not about drugs, as widely believed at the time.
Also featuring Dennis Coffey on lead guitar and Mongo Santamaria on conga drums. Santamaria covered it later that year on his “Stone Soul” LP.
“Cloud Nine,” Gladys Knight and the Pips, from “Nitty Gritty,” 1969. A cool cover on which the Pips get gritty, too.
Our premise, revisited: We are not even two months into 2016, and David Bowie is gone. So are Paul Kantner and Signe Anderson. So are Maurice White, Vanity and Otis Clay, as are Glenn Frey, Gary Loizzo and Dan Hicks.
Time, then — well past time, really — to appreciate four music greats who are still with us. These are my four. Yours may be different. We started with the eldest, Chuck Berry. We continue with …
What we must acknowledge but won’t dwell on: All those folks who got down on Richard Penniman over his style, his sexuality, his sensuality and/or his spirituality. Basically everything that made him great.
Where I came in: Hm. Not really sure. Seems like I’ve known about Little Richard since forever, but I never bought one of his records until I picked up a Specialty Records greatest-hits compilation sometime in the ’80s. It might have been after his career was revived after his memorable film appearance in “Down And Out In Beverly Hills” in 1986. It’s still the only Little Richard record I own.
Don’t take my word for it: As a suburban London kid in the ’50s, David Bowie sent away for two pictures of Little Richard. He eventually received one, “dog-eared and torn and, adding insult to injury, sized at 6-by-8 instead of the expected whopper.” Years later, that old picture of Little Richard sat on Bowie’s piano “in the original Woolworths frame I bought for it over 4o years ago, a small piece of yellowed Sellotape holding its ripped edges together.”
My evening with Little Richard: I’ve had two, actually, and was thrilled to have them both. He twice played our local casino. The first time was at least a decade ago. I got one of the little prayer books his people handed out after that show, but I’m not sure I still have it. The second and last time was in May 2007. What I wrote then:
I’ve seen and heard so much music over the years, yet I can honestly say it’s exciting to see Little Richard, and to see him for a second time.
The man is 74, yet still pounding the piano, belting out rock ‘n’ roll and the blues and doing a little preaching. He was in fine form, feisty as always and in fine voice. He’s backed by a scorching 10-piece show band — three saxes, trumpet, two guitars, bass, two drummers and a second keyboard player.
Little Richard was looking pretty, even if a bout with sciatica forced him to walk onto the stage on crutches. He wore a lemon-colored suit, its jacket covered with rhinestones, and a lime-colored shirt.
Perhaps my favorite moment: His cover of the Stones’ “It’s Only Rock ‘N’ Roll (But I Like It).” No, no, no, it was the giddy, thrilled reaction of a Japanese woman, one of several attractive ladies invited up on stage to dance, as she scooted off stage after shaking Little Richard’s hand.
To be honest, words fail to convey the essence of Little Richard’s greatness.
So, we’ll heed Little Richard and do as he says … shut up!
“Lucille,” 1957. My mom was Lucille. This song was not about my mom.
“Good Golly Miss Molly,” 1958. No less than the great Tom Jones calls this his favorite Saturday night record. “It’s tremendous,” he tells Mojo magazine in the March issue. “I thought he was a girl at first, covering Billy Haley and the Comets, but he did it first. The lyrics were more risque!” Sir Tom and Little Richard duetted on this one on his variety show in November 1969.
All by Little Richard, all from “Little Richard’s Grooviest 17 Original Hits,” 1968. My only Little Richard record. It’s out of print, but all these tunes are available digitally.
What we must acknowledge but won’t dwell on: Chuck Berry is not necessarily a nice man, from his troubles with the law and the tax man to his reluctance to give longtime co-writer and side man Johnnie Johnson his due.
Where I came in: I’m part of the generation introduced to Chuck Berry by the naughty novelty single “My Ding-A-Ling” in 1972. Then I bought “Chuck Berry’s Golden Decade,” the two-record greatest-hits compilation reissued by Chess in the wake of the success of “My Ding-A-Ling.” Long one of the greatest records in my collection.
My evening with Chuck Berry: Seven years ago, I saw Chuck Berry — then 82 — play our local casino ballroom. After that show, you wondered whether he’d played for roughly an hour, or played roughly for an hour. Which was OK. With Chuck Berry, you never can tell.
Appreciate the greatness:
“Roll Over Beethoven,” 1956. Electric Light Orchestra’s long, raucous cover of this is one of my all-time favorites.
Not sure there are any light reads about the Vietnam War.
It’s been years since I read Michael Herr’s “Dispatches,” but I vividly remember that taking forever.
Perhaps it’s the constant reminder — then as now — that there, for the grace of the timing of my birth, go I, and how would I have handled all that. (For the record, I was too young for Vietnam. Saigon fell and the war ended seven weeks before I turned 18.)
My Christmas wish list had two books on it, one of them about Vietnam.
“We Gotta Get Out Of This Place” examines how American soldiers — white, black, Latino, Native — deeply identified with music and used it to cope while serving in Vietnam in the late ’60s and early ’70s.
Our Christmas tree is long gone from the living room, yet I’m still slogging through that book. Maybe it’s best read with all those songs playing in the background.
You also bog down when you come to a passage like this, the story of a soldier named Jeff Dahlstrom, who arrived in Vietnam in September 1970:
“Music played a major part in the sensory overload of Saigon, where Dahlstrom went frequently. … No surprise that Dahlstrom’s memories of the Saigon streets were stirred by the appropriately titled ‘Stoned in Saigon’ by a largely forgotten English group named Free.”
Bass players: Andy Fraser (Free), Louis Johnson (The Brothers Johnson’s “Thunder Thumbs”), Chris Squire (Yes).
Behind the camera: Ed Sabol (NFL Films), Tony Verna (TV director who introduced instant replay), Haskell Wexler (cinematographer).
Clint Eastwood’s co-stars: Richard Dysart (“Pale Rider”), Geoffrey Lewis (“High Plains Drifter” and six other films), Dick Van Patten (“Joe Kidd”).
Columbia Records connections: Sam Andrew (Big Brother and the Holding Company guitarist), John Berg (art director designed some of those great covers and signed off on R. Crumb’s “Cheap Thrills” cover), Bob Johnston (produced Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, Simon and Garfunkel).
Commercial stars: Monica Lewis (jazz singer who voiced the Chiquita Banana), Windell Middlebrooks (actor who played Miller High Life delivery guy; he helped us at the Super Bowl), Darrell Winfield (Wyoming rancher who was the Marlboro Man for 20 years).
Crushes: Yvonne Craig (“Batman”), Donna Douglas (“The Beverly Hillbillies”), Melody Patterson (she was just 16 when cast in “F Troop”).
CTE is killing football players: Frank Gifford (Giants) was 84. Mike Pyle (Bears) was 76. Adrian Robinson (four NFL teams in two years) was 25.
Designers: Jerry Dior (Major League Baseball logo),Michael C. Gross (“National Lampoon” dog and gun cover), Betty Willis (Welcome To Fabulous Las Vegas sign).
Drummers: John Bradbury (The Specials), Bob Burns (Lynyrd Skynyrd), Phil Taylor (Motorhead).
Globetrotters: Marquis Haynes, Meadowlark Lemon, the Washington Generals (disbanded after last game on Aug. 1, a 90-88 loss).
Gone country: Lynn Anderson, Little Jimmy Dickens, Johnny Gimble.
Gonged: Milton DeLugg (bandleader), Eugene Patton (Gene Gene the Dancing Machine), Gary Owens (host).
Guitar players: Dave Ball (Procol Harum), Peggy Jones (or Lady Bo, from her work with Bo Diddley), Gary Richrath (R.E.O. Speedwagon).
Guys I admired: Ron Blomberg (Milwaukee Bucks announcer who ran their camps, which I never got to attend), Stan Erickson (ran the New Frontier Record Exchange, which I visited once), Phil Pepe (New York sportswriter wrote “Winners Never Quit,” one of my favorite books as a kid).
Having fun with Elvis: Jack Carter (comedian played himself in “Viva Las Vegas”), Joe Guercio (musical director), Dean Jones (“Jailhouse Rock” co-star).
Hollywood royalty: Christopher Lee, Maureen O’Hara, Omar Sharif.
Hot rodders: George Barris (designed the 1966 Batmobile and other kustom kars), Hot Rod Hundley (NBA player and broadcaster), John “Hot Rod” Williams (NBA player).
Inventive: Gary Dahl (Pet Rock), Don Featherstone (plastic pink flamingo), Vic Firth (drumsticks).
Irreverent: Darryl Dawkins (NBA’s “Chocolate Thunder”), Stan Freberg, Leon Varjian (legendary college prankster).
Keyboard players: Bobby Emmons (Memphis session man), Edgar Froese (Tangerine Dream), Ralph Sharon (Tony Bennett).
Liberal voices: Beau Biden (Delaware), Mario Cuomo (New York), Robert Kastenmeier (Wisconsin).
Made in Wisconsin: Michael Ariens (Ariens snowblowers and lawn mowers), Bob Nueske (Nueske’s bacon and smoked meats), Karl Ratzsch Jr. (Karl Ratzsch’s German restaurant).
Marvin Gaye’s collaborators: Al Abrams (Motown Records’ first publicist), Marlene Barrow-Tate (The Andantes, then backup for Gaye and the Four Tops, the Temptations and The Supremes), Mel Farr (NFL player sang backup on “What’s Going On”).
Memorable partners: William Guest (Gladys Knight and the Pips), Cynthia Lennon (John’s ex-wife), Gail Zappa (Frank’s widow).
Mighty singers: Andrae Crouch, Ronnie Gilbert, Mighty Sam McClain.
Music royalty: B.B. King, Ben E. King, Billy Joe Royal.
New Orleans funerals: Skip Easterling (singer), Frankie Ford (singer), Paul Prudhomme (chef).
Notorious women: Madame Claude (French madam), Carol Doda (San Francisco topless dancer), Anne Nicol Gaylor (atheist).
Panelists: Jayne Meadows, (“I’ve Got A Secret”), Anne Meara (“The Match Game”), Betsy Palmer (“I’ve Got A Secret”).
Rock singers: Jack Ely (The Kingsmen), Scott Weiland (Stone Temple Pilots), Stevie Wright (The Easybeats).
Sax players: Ornette Coleman, Wilton Felder (The Crusaders), Steve Mackay (The Stooges).
Songwriters: Michael Brown (“Walk Away Renee,” “Pretty Ballerina”), Wayne Carson (“The Letter,” “Soul Deep,” “Always On My Mind”), P.F. Sloan (“Eve Of Destruction,” “Secret Agent Man”).
“Star Trek” originals: Bruce Hyde (Lt. Kevin Riley), Leonard Nimoy (Spock), Grace Lee Whitney (Janice Rand).
Storytellers: Vincent Bugliosi (“Helter Skelter”), George Clayton Johnson (“The Twilight Zone,” “Star Trek,” “Logan’s Run,” “Ocean’s Eleven”), Albert Maysles (“Gimme Shelter” and “What’s Happening: The Beatles in the U.S.A.”).
The producers: Harve Bennett (“The Mod Squad,” “The Six Million Dollar Man,” “Star Trek” films), Jerry Weintraub (concert tours, “Nashville,” “Diner,” “The Karate Kid”), Bud Yorkin (“All In The Family,” “Good Times,” “Sanford and Son”).
They wore a badge on TV: James Best (“The Dukes of Hazzard”), Martin Milner (“Adam-12”), Al Molinaro (“The Odd Couple”).
Three Dog Night: Jimmy Greenspoon (keyboards), June Fairchild (actress who named the band), Cory Wells (singer).
Trailblazers: Julian Bond (civil rights leader), Stanley Kutler (Wisconsin historian who got the Nixon tapes released), Earl Lloyd (the first black NBA player).
Trumpet players: Ben Cauley, (the Bar-Kays and the sole survivor of the Otis Redding plane crash in 1967), Cynthia Robinson (Sly and the Family Stone), Lew Soloff (Blood, Sweat & Tears).
TV’s cool cats: Robert Loggia (“The C.A.T.”), Patrick Macnee (“The Avengers”), Wayne Rogers (“M*A*S*H”).
The shocker: There always is one death that takes your breath away. This year, it was Allen Toussaint, the great New Orleans arranger, producer, pianist and singer, and one of the nicest performers I ever met. A gentle, delightful man with a sparkle in his eyes (and his tie and his shoes), Toussaint nodded hello as he walked past me and onto the stage on a cold winter night in 2008.
My friend Todd, who worked at the venue at the time and now runs Rock n’ Roll Land, one of our local indie record stores, also has a cool Allen Toussaint story:
“I got the pleasure to pick up Allen at the airport in February. He was flying from Chicago to Green Bay and the flight was on a small plane, and I thought, ‘Oh, boy.’ So I greet him and ask, ‘How was your flight?’ He says, ‘Interesting, I enjoy those little planes.’ Made small talk with him on the way over to the hotel.
“Couple days later, I go pick him up from his room to head down to the show. Again making small talk, I ask him if he did anything during the day, you know, did you go outside at all? Mind you, it’s February, temperatures below zero, and he looks at me and says, ‘Now why would I do that?’
“He was one of the nicest, coolest guys I ever met, always dressed in a suit.”
— This is not intended to be an inclusive list of all who passed in 2015. Rather, this is my highly subjective list. Yours will be different.
— I am remiss in not crediting three prime sources for this list each year.
First, the folks at Wikipedia who compile month-by-month lists of prominent deaths. That’s where we start.
Second, our friend Gunther at Any Major Dude, who compiles lists of notable music deaths each month, along with a year-end roundup. Each of those is more thorough than this roundup. Highly recommended.
Third, the folks at Mojo magazine, whose “Real Gone” and “They Also Served” features are wonderful.
These are mp3s from my collection, taken from vinyl whenever possible. Enjoy. They are intended to encourage you to get out to the music stores, real or virtual, or out to support live music.
If you hold the copyright to something posted here, and you don't want it posted, please e-mail me at jeffash at new dot rr dot com and I'll remove it. Then again, who else is exposing your music to a new audience today?
About the words
The text is copyright 2007-2016, Jeff Ash. Text from other sources, when excerpted, is credited.