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Post by Ayinger on Feb 10, 2010 14:29:39 GMT -5
BOTH those books sound like I could spend some time on them (....if I only MADE the time). I like the blub in italics that you put up --- made me flash back 8, 9, 10 years ago when I used to drag my notebook down to my late nite blues joint. Is the one chronicaling Hipgnosis more of a "coffee table book" or does it offer a lot more text than pics? I did get through this one last month: Found it a thought provoking (VERY!), humorous -sometimes in a near sadistic manner, and a bit left of center. Enjoyed the HELL out of it! Dexter's writing just hit home with me....like every little word was in place, every sentence put down in perfect fashion ....wish I wasn't so damn tired right now so that I could describe it better --- take a chance on it!
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Post by RocDoc on Feb 10, 2010 21:12:08 GMT -5
BOTH those books sound like I could spend some time on them (....if I only MADE the time). I like the blub in italics that you put up --- made me flash back 8, 9, 10 years ago when I used to drag my notebook down to my late nite blues joint. Is the one chronicaling Hipgnosis more of a "coffee table book" or does it offer a lot more text than pics? .... text vs pictures/re-prints, prob about equal...but it's storm and po' each writing a synopsis of how they each remember the experience with a band's album cover...and they both had different responsibilities. 40-50 different covers, from cochise to edgar broughton to floyd. the charm is in the way that the stories dovetail together. no, it's very cool for a rock geek. not just 'oooh, prrretty!'
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Post by RocDoc on Aug 1, 2012 11:05:50 GMT -5
NR: and ...shifting over ever-so-slightly to the fong-torres because i'm already getting depressed with the ending to the parsons book... fwiw the 'hotel california' book quoted linda ronstadt (among others) even disputing gram parson's avowed 'influence' to the world of country-rock simply because he was SO undependable....and extremely uneven in live performance, that 'great' as he was, in flashes - there was so little of him to appreciate...4 discs and phffft. enduring fondness and respect, but that his legend was more of a 'live wild, die young, get great press afterwards' this book:
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Post by RocDoc on Aug 26, 2012 11:12:42 GMT -5
a very interesting book by a name i'd seen several times throughout a couple of my rock readings and who i generally thought was some sorta hanger-on/groupie, a very fortunate one, but it turns out she was/is a serious journalist, one of the first rock crits. life magazine sent her on assignment to cover zeppelin fergawshsakes. also interesting that her entire viewpoint here is pre-1973, the copyright date of this book - ie various rock/r&b folks she cites hadn't died yet. marvin gaye, mike bloomfield....tho the viewpoint in large part was hippy-dippy 'WE are the power, we will change YOU!' which intoxicated so many starting with the drop-out days and the sex/drug revolution circa 1965-1967. but the last chapter(s) start to get seriously disillusioned, backed by very accurate assessments of 'what changed it all, finally' as waves of success (or not) came for the former optimists among the musical heroes she cites (and quotes). without the realistic ending, i was starting to think 'this is nothing but pro-drug hippie beatification, tho written VERY well' - but then she gets off her 'high horse' and tells ya what was also pretty fucked up at that time.
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Post by RocDoc on Aug 26, 2012 11:33:59 GMT -5
just ran ito this via google - gives someone else's take on the book and a nice exceprt to see how sanders write - i love it: Thursday, June 18, 2009Protest singers and protesting singers I scored a used copy of Ellen Sander's Trips the other day. I think many Led Zeppelin fans will know why. Sander was the reporter on assignment from Life magazine who traveled on Led Zeppelin's plane with them and lived and worked in their company for several days on their second American tour. After noting that it was an exhausting, dehumanizing way to work, she came round to almost appreciating why their behavior failed miserably to live up to a basic human level (as she put it) and seemed almost on the edge of writing a sympathetic article when, on her last day, she stopped in to say goodbye, and two members of the band assaulted her, ripping her clothes and seriously scaring her. She shelved the planned article and couldn't bring herself to write about it for months. In the end, she wrote it up for Trips, and it's that chapter I bought the book for.
But Trips is subtitled Rock Life in the Sixties, and covers far more ground than travel with tetchy (and apparently smelly unwashed) British rock groups. Sander started out as a folkie and so the sixties to her was not a journey from segregation, cha cha heels and high school principals to Woodstock, but a saga from committed protest song lover to …. Well, Woodstock and stuff, I guess. They all ended up in the same place.
From that vantage point she has unique view on the 1965 Newport Festival. This is the one in which Dylan "went electric", an odd phrase that suggests he had a conversion on the road to Newport. He was backed by an under-rehearsed Paul Butterfield Blues Band. The story out there is that the crowd were outraged at the sound and booed. Dylan left the stage but was persuaded to come back and finish acoustically, and all ended well. But Wikipedia has some additional complexity on the matter– some people remember, for instance, that the boos were not for the electricity, per se, but because of the poor sound. Whatever, Dylan did not return to Newport for 37 years and eventually returned wearing a wig and disguise.
Ellen Sander has an additional episode that isn't in the Wikipedia article.
Never before had the antagonism between folk purists and young folk stars been more vivid. The stuffed shirts of folkdom despised the coat of many colors the young ones wore, insisted that real folk music came from and strictly adhered to traditional sources. The political people, too, were incensed that this music had turned back to songs of changes people go through with themselves, with one another, leaving protest music to seed itself. The new music to hit this festival was a Judas’ lamb and the venom was rife. At one afternoon workshop for which Alan Lomax was the emcee, he introduced the Butterfield Blues Band with some stupid remarks about, well, they’re white and young and use electric guitars, but for what they’re worth . . . with the implication being not much—and like that. Mind you, here was a band whose key organizer hung around the south side of Chicago for years, sitting in with Muddy Waters, hanging out with James Cotton, absorbing the blues as directly as he felt and identified with them.
~~~She says that Paul Butterfield had paid his dues and recognized the depth of the blues masters musical knowledge. He played the music with all the respect due, and turned many white kids on to the blues, helping to guarantee the older black stars some commercial success.~~~
Albert Grossman (who also managed the Butterfield Blues Band), himself a refugee from Chicago’s folk and blues scene where he’d once run a club, was mottled with rage. Since his association with Dylan he’d grown his hair long; it fell around his full face knotty and white like seaweed transfigured by the Ajax white knight. He looked for all the world like Ben Franklin on acid and being on the Dylan trip had given him a kind of smug obscurity he wore like a banner and a shield. He was a hulking porterhouse of a man with an aura of sternness about him which broke right on the brink of some amazing private scheme the music-biz monarch always seemed to be concocting. But when Grossman heard Lomax’s introduction for the Butterfield Blues Band he blew his everloving cool. As Lomax turned to leave the stage, Grossman strode over toward the steps to meet him and he was fit to be tied. “That was the dumbest introduction I have ever heard!” he said, leveling Lomax with blood in his eye. Nobody was sure who shoved first but in an instant they were both on the ground, these two old men, rolling around in the mulch, punching each other out, arch symbols of the polarities in the musical tug of peace of the time, scrapping big brawny brats on the ground.
Who knew that folkies had so much hatred in their hearts? The book is a fascinating read. It's long out of print but is available through the usual resellers.
peromyscus.blogspot.com/2009/06/protest-singers-and-protesting-singers.htmlthe author actually makes a comment in this site's comments section...
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Post by RocDoc on Aug 31, 2012 9:32:31 GMT -5
finished a coupla days ago: my GOD did this people get away with doing a lot of 'questionable' stuff, through sheer force of his personality apparently. i kept seeing him cited in so many of the RnR books i've enjoyed reading lately. Review "Road Mangler Deluxe" is one of the most honest books ever written about a life lived in the culture of rock & roll. Since the late '60s, Kaufman has spent most of his professional career as a road manager to music acts like the Rolling Stones, Frank Zappa, Joe Cocker, and Emmylou Harris--that is, whenever he wasn't producing Charles Manson's music...or sharing hashish with Elizabeth Ashley back in '78. Kaufman brings new resonance to the phrase "seen it all, done it all." When Gram Parsons died after a drug and alcohol binge in 1973, Parsons' family planned to bury the singer in New Orleans, but Kaufman decided to carry out what he claims was Parsons' true desire, to be cremated at Joshua Tree National Monument. Kaufman stole the coffin containing Parsons' body from Los Angeles International Airport, drove to Joshua Tree, doused the corpse with gasoline, and struck a match. -- Entertainment Weekly, Ken Tucker, December 1993
In "Road Mangler Deluxe," the cheery-faced Kaufman tells tales on himself, some so tall as to defy belief and almost all inspired by his long career in the "Executive Nanny Service" as road manager to such stars at the Rolling Stones, Etta James, Joe Cocker, actress Elizabeth Ashley and Emmylou Harris...And plenty of Kaufman's client-pals have contributed testimony, including Rosanne Cash, Vince Gill and Frank Zappa: Kaufman was an emergency replacement for a Zappa road manager who had killed himself mid-tour.
Kaufman describes his work as "moving people, not equipment," and his responsibilities as everything from "housing and transportation to personal baby-sitting."
In the late '80s, Kaufman moved to Europe for four years, working as an assistant director for a production company doing films and TV, doing occasional character parts and modeling. He moved back to Nashville in 1992 and reunited with Emmylou Harris; he still serves as her road manager. -- The Washington Post, Richard Harrington, March 20, 1994
Tales From a Rocky Roadie OK, he only stole and cremated ONE body, and that was actually a noble, if thoroughly drunken, act of friendship toward his departed friend, country/rock pioneer Gram Parsons. Kaufman's recounting of that tale is moving and hilariously irreverent. But that's not the only event that makes "Road Mangler Deluxe" a rambunctious page-turner.
Kaufman also happened to produce the now-infamous "LIE" album by his onetime prison-mate Charles Manson...and has worked for Frank Zappa, Joe Cocker, Emmylou Harris and others, becoming an industry legend in the process.
When Parsons first asked him to become a road manager, Kaufman's response was, "What's that?" He learned it was simply a mobile version of what he'd already been doing for the Rolling Stones while they were in Los Angeles finishing up their "Beggar's Banquet" album. His greatest credibility comes, he says, from working for Emmylou Harris. Their friendship stretches back over two decades. -- Los Angeles Times, Jim Washburn, February 19, 1994 --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
NOW i'm reading (in addition to a richie unterberger book): i read a john phillips autobio a good year back and these guys still fascinate...poor cass elliot, she led such a weird sad life, basically because ellen naomi cohen never could fit where she SO thirsted to fit. incredible talent in a package which she kept getting told was 'wrongwrongwrong' - found universal acceptance with the M&Ps and she STILL wasn't good enough for herself to be happy. very interesting that the london hotel room that she died in was the same room that keith moon died in about 3 yrs later - BOTH of them at 32 years old.
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Post by RocDoc on Sept 30, 2012 10:57:21 GMT -5
NR: and
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Post by RocDoc on Oct 25, 2012 19:47:31 GMT -5
^ joan didion was a pretty complex person and lived one hell of a life - heartaches galore, but it seemed like her VAST 'interests' got her through. she overused the word 'inchoate' but it was because she was operating on a whole different level of extreme literacy. i very much enjoyed reading the stories in 'white album'. ~ NR: when this was handed to me at the library, i though they were handing me a gutenberg bible it was so massive! 735 fucking pages - of which i've just hit 400+ and i don't regret it because rogans' style IS entertaining...and he presents a LOT of the stories and backstories i already knew (see the ABOVE series of books) with some sl different wrinkles...so it's not 'what, THIS again?' but it's a freaking project, during which i can't even try to juggle the simultaneous reading of another book like i've been enjoying doing lately... making me amass a brand new collection of byrds studio and live shows as i'm reading about their creation - so THAT's a pretty damned cool thing too. right now listening to the mcguinn-white-battin-parsons byrds live show of june 28th 1970 at the bath festival which took place at 4 in the morning during a thunderstorm, which it was too dangerous to use amplification, so they sat down and played acoustically til the sun came up - pretty fucking cool backstory. all written about in THAT book - and it showed up on sugarmegs just a coupla days ago - nice serendipity!
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Post by RocDoc on Dec 4, 2012 11:49:06 GMT -5
always a great writer, timothy white - i just read the chapter on james brown, and boy, he skewered him SO wickedly that i can't see how he got away with what he wrote...different times, i gotta guess... White has a marvelous ear: not only for "an art form so triumphantly incendiary" as rock music, but for the rhythms in the lives and conversation of those who make that music. In these essays, many of which come from White's work over the last 20 years with Crawdaddy and Rolling Stone , the author has accomplished the neat feat of updating the information without losing the sound of the singer's voice or the taste of the time. Divided into three sections, "Pioneers," "Pilgrims," and "Progeny," some 60 essays capture the fervid deviltry of Jerry Lee Lewis, the hesitant eloquence of Eric Clapton, and Stevie Nicks in a different pose from airhead angel. White writes with passion and intelligence, and never gets in the way of his subjects: no one can make Jimmy Page intelligible, or Michael Jackson real. Some of this material appeared in different form in his Rock Stars (Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 1984). Recommended for virtually all collections Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 6/1/90. --GraceAnne A. DeCandido, "Library Journal"
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Post by RocDoc on Mar 1, 2013 12:34:12 GMT -5
51 of 53 people found the following review helpful 4.0 out of 5 stars FINALLY A LIGHT ON HOPKINS CONTRIBUTION TO ROCK 'N' ROLL May 6, 2011 By Stuart Jefferson TOP 100 REVIEWER Format:Paperback|Amazon Verified PurchaseTrade size edition. Introduction by Klaus Voormann, 6 page Introduction, 338 pages of text including-25 page Discography, 3 pages listing bands and live appearances, film and video appearances, plus an Index. There's also many b&w photographs throughout the book beginning with Hopkins' early life and the bands he played with. Sprinkled throughout are album covers of various pertinent sessions Hopkins played on, or his solo work.
"Nicky could play anything. He was a genius." Bill Wyman. "Nicky was a genius, but a lot of the time genius isn't noticed until many years later." Joe Cocker. "I wish he were here right now-it would be so great if he could just walk right out on the stage and sit down at the piano." Steve Miller. "He was just a brilliant, brilliant musician!" Chuck Leavell.
Session man Nicky Hopkins is, hopefully, known to just about anyone who has listened to THE WHO, JEFF BECK GROUP, Joe Cocker, THE KINKS, THE YARDBIRDS, STEVE MILLER BAND, THE STRAWBS, John Lennon, THE BEATLES, Lowell George, JEFFERSON AIRPLANE, Harry Nilsson, QUICKSILVER MESSENGER SERVICE, THE CREATION, P.P. Arnold, Billy Nicholls, THE MOVE, The Iveys/BADFINGER, Giles, Giles and Fripp, THE EASYBEATS, Dusty Springfield, FAMILY, Jackie Lomax, Donovan, Rod Stewart, George Harrison, Jerry Garcia, TOMORROW, and many, many more. His unique abilities, both as a piano (and sometimes organ/harpsichord) player and an arranger, made him the "go to" guy for many bands of the era. No matter if it was a simple piano piece to flesh out a song, or to arrange a piece of music, Hopkins was the man for the job. Similar to many good guitarists, Hopkins had a recognizable sound whenever he sat behind the piano. His unmistakable sound graced many fine albums and individual songs.
The author interviewed many people, including-P.P. Arnold, Long John Baldry, Ritchie Blackmore, Pete Brown, Vashti Bunyan, Joe Cocker, Dave Cousins, Spencer Davis, Gary Duncan, Al Kooper, Albert Lee, Nils Lofgren, Michael McDonald, Ian McLagan, Steve Miller, Andrew Loog Oldham, Graham Parker, Richard Perry, Prairie Prince, Keith Richards, Tom Rush, Brinsley Schwarz, Paul Samwell-Smith, Leigh Stephens, Rod Stewart, Shel Talmy, Mick Taylor, Richard Thompson, Joe Walsh, Bill Wyman, among many others-both well and relatively well known people in the music business. The various interviews were of varying length, but together they paint an in-depth portrait of both Hopkins and his music.
Hopkins ability to constantly come up with just the right sound kept him busy throughout the late 60's/early 70's. There was talk from both THE WHO and THE ROLLING STONES about joining their respective bands-something he regretted later in life not doing. A busy session man, Hopkins was rarely paid commensurate with his abilities. He quit THE JEFF BECK GROUP to play on a Stones record. He never kept track of his sessions, and never asked for a percentage instead of straight payment-huge mistakes. This was the era when session players were simply anonymous musicians, treated and payed with little regard for their talents. In the beginning Hopkins never really thought about, or knew, what top flight session musicians in the U.S. were payed for their contributions.
This book, written by Julian Dawson, a friend later in life in Nashville, tells Hopkins story from his early days in England in the 1950's, his discovery of r'n'r music, playing in bands like SCREAMING LORD SUTCH , and Cyril Davies. But even during these early years of life, Hopkins suffered a debilitating intestinal problem (which would eventually contribute to his death), that left him in hospital, and off the scene, for extended periods of time. If you've ever seen a photograph of Hopkins you know what I'm talking about. While this book concentrates on Hopkins' life, it's also about the beginnings of r'n'r in England, and his subsequent playing with a number of the best bands on the S.F. scene, during the musical explosion of the late 60's. Hopkins' story is tied to the first stirrings of rock, blues, and r&b, that was played by a loose gathering of like-minded people. As Hopkins' story unfolds, so does the story of this (then) new music, which was beginning to spread throughout England. In that respect this book is a window into this exciting era when groups were forming everywhere to play this new music. Likewise, Hopkins' life in the burgeoning Bay Area music scene is recounted in some detail, with a good look into his playing with QUICKSILVER MESSENGER SERVICE especially interesting.
Hopkins was in the front ranks of British session players of the day, which included John Paul Jones, Jimmy Page, Clem Cattini, etc., and he was a favorite of producers like Glyn Johns and Andrew Loog Oldham, among others. But a move to the U.S. would change his life (ultimately) for the worse. Settling in the Bay Area of S.F., he played with a number of bands in the area. He also met a woman, Lynda Van Orden (Steve Miller-"the girlfriend from Hell") who, in a nutshell, turned Hopkins' life into a nightmare. The book details Hopkins slide into alcoholism (he previously wasn't a drinker), and drug use-using a number of illicit substances. As a result his life would never be the same. And touring with The Stones in 1972, on their infamous trek across America, did nothing to help matters. After that tour Hopkins was literally a hollow shell of a man-unfit both mentally and physically.
The book relates in Van Orden's hold over Hopkins, and as a result Hopkins made a number of bad career decisions-not keeping an eye on his finances (which Van Orden spent), a disastrous solo career (even with many well known musicians on his recordings), Van Orden's infidelities, and Hopkins' increasing alcoholism. He also let Van Orden run his business affairs and her name appeared as a co-writer of some of his songs. To make matters even worse, Van Orden would attempt to sing-which was a disaster. Combining his personal and physical problems-Hopkins' apparent inability to take charge of his career, join a band for the duration, front his own bands, and effectively play his own music, Hopkins' life as a "name" musician was doomed. Van Orden was a strong personality where Hopkins' was weak, which he apparently didn't seem to mind, during their marriage-the music was all that really mattered to Hopkins. This is the period when the once top flight session player had to be strapped to his piano bench in order to play on sessions.
But the book ends on a relatively high note. Hopkins found Scientology, and credits that with his recovery from drug addiction. Hopkins also married again, this time to someone who helped him though his troubles. But at this late date, his career as a session player for major artists was over-he became the band leader for Art Garfunkel. During this period he also wrote film scores for foreign films. But what Hopkins really wanted was to form a band with Joe Walsh and singer Frankie Miller. But Walsh upped and joined THE EAGLES, so it came to nothing.
It seemed that Hopkins could never catch a break-which he deserved. In later years he regretted working for cash instead of a percentage, something which would have given him a relatively steady income for life. But without a composer's credit, he lost all of it. His illness kept him from playing sessions and continued to hamper his life. And of course the decisions not to join major bands when asked was a disastrous one. Combine all that with his various personal problems and you have a portrait of someone who was unlucky in every sense of the word.
Hopkins rubbed shoulders with some of the best musicians of the much vaunted 60's. He also knew the harrowing lows of addiction, and physical maladies. But at least near the end of his life, having moved to Nashville, sober, and happily married, Hopkins lived out the rest of his days, dying in 1994. Hopkins career began as a footnote on the back of many fine albums of the era, he found relative fame, and then his life fell apart. Hopefully this book will keep him from, once again, becoming nothing more than a footnote in discographies to both current and future generations of music listeners. He stands alongside session players like Hal Blaine, Leland Sklar, and other studio musicians, in both L.A. and N.Y., and with Charlie McCoy and a select few in Nashville, who played on countless songs by both unknown and popular artists of the era. His playing style, his sensitiveness with a song, his very sound, was a major contribution to r'n'r. He deserves to be remembered.
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Post by RocDoc on Jun 7, 2013 11:50:55 GMT -5
a fantastic read: nice amazon writeup that hits on whatever i'd say anyway... 5 stars An excellent personal essay that also contains some great scenes from music history December 10, 2007 By B. Schuman Format:PaperbackJoe Boyd's "White Bicycles" is an easy-to-read and fun memoir. It likely will appeal exclusively to fans of British folk and psychedelic music, but it's really about Joe Boyd more than anything else. And Joe Boyd is a man with a fascinating life and great skills as a writer. He also happened to have experienced some key moments in the '60s, and, if he doesn't quite make us feel like we were there (which is really impossible) he certainly makes us feel like we remember it along with him.
Since several reviewers have commented on the book's lack of scenes in the recording studio, I feel that I must address that point. First, I think he did an excellent job of describing what it was like to be in the studio with Nick Drake, and the sections of the book concerning Nick Drake are generally quite strong. But he devotes considerably less time to Fairport Convention, the ISB, and others, and readers expecting a book of tales in the recording studio will be disappointed.
But the book is about more than just music: it's about the '60s, and its about the cast of characters who came into Joe Boyd's life. It is rife with observations about the society of the time and how it has changed. It's nostalgic and really does give you the impression that Boyd's life has probably never been quite as fun as it was then, but it is all tempered by an acceptance that the '60s are over and a knowledge that the decade really wasn't so perfect. In fact, the title "white bicycles" alludes to just that: white bicycles were communal bicycles that the city of Amsterdam produced for its citizens to share, but people ended up stealing them and painting them different colors. The white bicycle was a "failed experiment," a description that many use to describe the decade itself.
But Boyd himself doesn't even go as far as to call the '60s a failure, or anything so dramatic. He paints the '60s not as a mythical era, but as a group of years that were just like any other years, except that a whole lot of cool things happened.
And included in the cool things that happened for Joe Boyd in the '60s are hanging out at Harvard Square with the Jim Kweskin Jug Band, driving American blues musicians across France, stage managing the Newport Folk Festival when Bob Dylan and the Paul Butterfield Blues Band took the "folk" out of the festival, unleashing Pink Floyd on London, playing dice with Nick Drake, producing soundtracks amidst the chaos of the early '70s film industry, briefly joining the Church of Scientology and then escaping from it, and more. Boyd was there for all of it, but he writes about it in a reflective, clear manner that may have something to do with the fact that, in his words, he "never got too stoned."
Many people claim that life and music were better in the '60s, but Joe Boyd gives insight into some of the very logical reasons that '60s life and music were loved by so many. According to Boyd, the economy in the '60s allowed for people to live cheaply much more easily, and music sounded better because of the recording methods more than the quality of the music. Observations such as this are casually integrated into the narrative and sound neither preachy nor pretentious.
Although I know many readers will disagree, I really believe that "White Bicycles" is one of the best books ever written about both the music and the decade of the '60s.
If you enjoy well-crafted, laid-back memoirs, and if it intrigues you to wonder how it would feel to sit in the baffling presence of Nick Drake, or to like a girl but then discover Bob Dylan in her shower, this is definitely the book for you, and I couldn't recommend it more highlythe greatest thing was the very last chapter boyd's analysis on the unique unrepeatable circumstances that brought to the fore, the sorts of music he got involved in...this guy's ^ review says boyd made it out to be that the times weren't anything that special - this book's last chapter conradicts that.
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Post by RocDoc on Jun 7, 2013 12:19:10 GMT -5
read this very entertaining book awhile back, among those prev ones (amazon's 'also viewed' option reminded me): from atomic books: On hit record after hit record by everyone from the Byrds, the Beach Boys, and the Monkees to the Grass Roots, the 5th Dimension, Sonny & Cher, and Simon & Garfunkel, this collection of West Coast studio musicians from diverse backgrounds established themselves as the driving sound of pop music—sometimes over the objection of actual band members forced to make way for Wrecking Crew members. Industry insider Kent Hartman tells the dramatic, definitive story of the musicians who forged a reputation throughout the business as the secret weapons behind the top recording stars. Mining invaluable interviews, the author follows the careers of such session masters as drummer Hal Blaine and keyboardist Larry Knechtel, as well as trailblazing bassist Carol Kaye—the only female in the bunch—who went on to play in thousands of recording sessions. Readers will discover the Wrecking Crew members who would forge careers in their own right, including Glen Campbell and Leon Russell, and learn of the relationship between the Crew and such legends as Phil Spector and Jimmy Webb. Hartman also takes us inside the studio for the legendary sessions that gave us Pet Sounds, Bridge Over Troubled Water, and the rock classic “Layla,” which Wrecking Crew drummer Jim Gordon cowrote with Eric Clapton for Derek and the Dominos. And the author recounts priceless scenes such as Mike Nesmith of the Monkees facing off with studio head Don Kirshner, Grass Roots lead guitarist (and future star of The Office) Creed Bratton getting fired from the group, and Michel Rubini unseating Frank Sinatra’s pianist for the session in which the iconic singer improvised the hit-making ending to “Strangers in the Night.” The Wrecking Crew tells the collective, behind-the-scenes stories of the artists who dominated Top 40 radio during the most exciting time in American popular culture.
5 stars. Absolutely Blows Me Away, March 12, 2013 By Richard A. Root (Granbury, TX USA) First, I'm sorry Carol Kaye that you are upset. Ignore her, and buy this book. I don't know what Kent Hartman did or didn't promise her, or what her problem with it is, but this is one fantastic book, and one of the best reads you'll ever have. As I've said in another review, I'm the guy who did read liner notes. So, because of The Mamas and Papas, and Sonny and Cher, I did know of many of these artists. Of course, we never knew that they were the actual music makers behind the groups of the day, because it wasn't acknowledged. The M&P and S&C could tell us on their albums, because they were vocal only. These men, and woman, were amazing. And, the stories Hartman tells are incredible. From the late 1950s until the early 1970s, the number of hit records that they produced is simply astounding. While Phil Spector is known for his "wall of sound" that sound is actually these guys. Brian Wilson used them exclusively to record from his mid-1964 hits through Pet Sounds, and what we now have, Smile. Brilliant!! Simon and Garfunkel's Bridge Over Troubled Water used them. Hartman explains how they made the sound of the booming drum in The Boxer, something I've wondered about since I first heard it in late 1969. This book should be required reading for anyone who loved the music of the 1950s and 60s. apparently the author's a bit of a carpetbagger (hal blaine and carol kaye have beefs w/him) - but aside from some self-serving sections, he came off as pretty respectful imo. tho i guess when you're making $$$ of something you had no real connection to, you can afford to be. i loved it.
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Post by RocDoc on Jun 7, 2013 12:50:06 GMT -5
i got stuck doing other work and this one's gone overdue at the library for me after getting through about a 1/3 of it - i've got to return it and request it again. some very cool period stuff in here even though it IS very london-centric: 5 stars You really had to be there! 24 July 2009 By Big Swifty Format: Paperback London Live is a must have for all serious music fans. Its also a nostalgia-fest for all of us old enough to have been there. Although it covers all the legendary watering holes dotted around the capital, its focus is on the Marquee, particularly the 'Wardour Street' period. The jewel in the crown for this particular tome though is the 'Marquee Data Base' in the back. Basically its a pretty definitive gig list covering the the '60s and '70s. On any given date you can find out not only who headlined but also who the support act was etc. Speaking as one who spent the period 1967-70 living in Earls Court, the Marquee at the time (along with The Ship in Wardour St.) was effectively my favourite watering hole, and the place I spent many evenings during my misspent youth. My first visit was to see Cream's final performance there in May '67. There are so many astonishing nights to remember, from watching Yes get there big break supporting the Nice. King Crimson's first appearance in '69, Jethro Tull, Taste, The Move, and being totally freaked by how good Family were. Queueing for hours to get a ticket to see Jeff Beck. Queueing for hours and failing to get a ticket for the 1st Led Zeppelin gig there! And so on. Its all here folks! Go for it! A great read! ^ love this guy's insider viewpoint.
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Post by RocDoc on Jun 7, 2013 13:02:12 GMT -5
NOW reading - had this one recommended to me after talking to her about our very cool experiences during the 5 days we spent in paris in 2003 (and commiserated abou their absurd language) and it is funny as hell: clipped from an amazon reviewer: ...Stephen Clarke takes the reader through eleven "commandments" such as Thou Shalt Not Work (the French addiction to the 4.5 day week and the public holiday) Thou Shalt Not be Served (why French waiters can be so difficult), and Thou Shalt be Ill (where Clarke writes about French hypochondria and gets in the inevitable references to suppositories). These commandments are all dealt with wittily of course, and anyone familiar with the country will recognise the traits and characteristice he describes.
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JACkory
Struggling Artist
Posts: 167
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Post by JACkory on Jun 26, 2013 22:20:11 GMT -5
I just wrapped up "The Moonstone" by Wilkie Collins. I love that old shit.
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