Column: Classic Vantage

Talking Heads’ Take Me to the River

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Talking HeadsOriginally published in Rock and Roll: The 100 Best Singles

#79 Talking Heads, “Take Me to the River”

Every great performance has the ghosts of past performances inside it. In this case our screams (you’re not listening to this record right if you don’t find yourself screaming along with the chorus) are no doubt requesting transportation to that greatest of American waterways, drainer of the heartlands, the Mississippi, because although David Byrne and Talking Heads may have laid down this deep groove in some ofay New York City recording studio, the song and performance they’re emulating is by Syl Johnson and Willie Mitchell out of Al Green and Teenie Hodges out of Little Junior Parker, that is to say, MEMPHIS MEMPHIS MEMPHIS (now I’m screaming), the great portal of American music, delta on one side and southside Chicago on the other, south and north, country and city, and Memphis in between (in the meantime, as John Hiatt has it)… “Take Me to the River” was first recorded by Al Green in 1974, one of the climaxes of his live act but it didn’t catch on as a single until Willie Mitchell, who produced Al’s version and just about everything else Hi put out in the early ’70s, recorded Syl Johnson’s version, which was a Top 10 R&B hit in 1975. It’s a weird song, lyrically—the singer seems to be referring obliquely to an affair with a 16-year-old girl, asking for redemption, spiritual cleansing, and an opportunity to go on with the relationship. “I haven’t seen how to help you yet… I want to know, won’t you tell me, I’d love to stay…” Talking Heads take hold of the song and put the emphasis almost entirely on the spiritual side of things, which they can do precisely because baptism is an exotic concept to them and their audience, unlikely to be taken literally and therefore able to pull forth all sorts of unspoken feelings and images. David Byrne, as is his wont, swallows the lyrics (“I haven’t seen worst of it yet… I want to know, can you tell me? I uh to ayyyyyyy…”), focusing the entire energy of the performance on the title phrase and its echo (“take me to the river, drop me in the water”), repeated and reshuffled (“drop me in the river, push me in the water”) in a hypnotic chant. As for Junior Parker, Al Green refers to him overtly in a spoken introduction to his recorded version, “Like to dedicate this song to Little Junior Parker, a cousin of mine, he’s gone on but we’d like to kind of carry on in his name.” This bit of talking actually gets in the way of Al’s record, but it’s important because Talking Heads are doing the same thing just by recording a “cover” version, the I Ching says “the best way to study the past is not to confine oneself to mere knowledge of history but, through application of this knowledge, to give actuality to the past,” and this process is a lot more central to rock ‘n’ roll than you might think. We sing about God and sex. And always, at the same time, we sing about music—expressing what we’ve learned from music—expressing what we’ve learned from music about God and sex. The past is the river, as Heraclitus or somebody told us (present and future also), and the music—

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published: February 18, 2009 in column: Classic Vantage

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How Rock Communicates

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This is an excerpt from Chapter 7 of Paul Williams’ book of rock music, Outlaw Blues.

illustration by Mark ArmstrongFebruary 1968

“A great many considerations and puzzles that one meets sooner or later in all the arts find their clearest expression, and therefore their most tangible form, in connection with music.”

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published: February 11, 2009 in column: Classic Vantage

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Jeff Buckley: Keeper of the Flame

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Jeff Buckley: photo by Mikio ArigaOriginally published in The Guardian,

It is five years since Jeff Buckley took his final, mid-evening stroll into the Wolf River, a sleepy tourist spot on the outskirts of Memphis, Tennessee. Fully clothed and still wearing his combat boots, he splashed around happily, singing out lines from Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love.” The idyll was cruelly curtailed when a menacing undertow from a passing tugboat pulled Buckley under.

By the time the river volunteered his lifeless body six days later, on June 4 1997, news of the singer’s likely demise had already created its own wave of grief. Like Nirvana’s Kurt Cobain, who’d taken his own life three years earlier, Buckley had provided that rare voice of authenticity in ’90s rock. Their tragic, premature deaths only enhanced the belief that their work embodied the full range of human frailty. Parallels with Jeff’s father Tim, a ’60s troubadour who pushed the bounds of folksong to embrace free jazz and impassioned white soul, and who had died of an accidental heroin overdose in 1975, were inevitably made.

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published: January 7, 2009 in column: Classic Vantage

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Jimi Hendrix 1968

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Jimi Hendrix: Photo by Baron WolmanOriginally published in The New York Times

“Will he burn it tonight?” asked a neat blonde of her boyfriend, squashed in beside her on the packed floor of the Fillmore auditorium. “He did at Monterey,” the boyfriend said, recalling the Pop Festival at which the guitarist, in a moment of elation, actually put a match to his guitar. The blonde and her boyfriend went on watching the stage, crammed with huge silver-fronted Fender amps, a double drum set, and whispering stage hands. Mitch Mitchell, the drummer, came on first, sat down, smiled, and adjusted his cymbals. Then came bassist Noel Redding, gold glasses glinting on his fair, delicate face, and plugged into his amp.

“There he is,” said the blonde, and yes, said the applause, there he was, Jimi Hendrix, a cigarette slouched in his mouth, dressed in tight black pants draped with a silver belt, and a pale rainbow shirt half hidden by a black leather vest.

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published: December 24, 2008 in column: Classic Vantage

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Raunchy Faces Back on Tour

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photo courtesy of the FacesOriginally published in Rolling Stone,

LONDON – “We’re playing as one now like our life depended on it,” Rod Stewart announced, looking down eagerly at his game pie in a posh London restaurant. “This American tour is a turning point for the Faces. If we can get that same rapport going with our audience that we had four years ago, then I’ll say we’ve accomplished something. Then I’ll say we’ve become one of those bands that’s respected. And,” he paused, cutting into the thick, rich feast, “there’s not many of those.”

The Faces are heading stateside for their first tour since the fall of 1973, a trip that resulted in the uninspired Coast to Coast album. Between visits, Stewart released Smiler, guitarist Ron Wood did a solo album, and drummer Kenny Jones recorded a Jackson Browne tune for a British single.

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published: December 17, 2008 in column: Classic Vantage

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Soft Machine: Not Frustrated Jazz Musicians

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Soft Machine promo photo: courtesy of WikipediaOriginally published in Beat Instrumental,

“Independence” and “freedom” are words much used today to justify any act from dossing down in Piccadilly to running naked through Trafalgar Square, but Soft Machine uses these words with such liberal enthusiasm that they don’t give the impression of just quoting well-worn clichés.

With two LPs under their belts—the first of which was released in America only—the Soft Machine trio strongly believe that the individual and musical freedom they try to practise has formed a great part of the way their career has progressed.

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published: December 3, 2008 in column: Classic Vantage

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Cream: Background to a Break-Up

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Cream: photo courtesy of mog.comOriginally published in Melody Maker,

Cream are breaking up. The world-famous trio that features Eric Clapton, Ginger Baker, and Jack Bruce are to go separate ways in the autumn. Said Eric at his Chelsea home this week: “I’ve been on the road seven years and I’m going on a big holiday.”

It was two years ago, in July 1966, that three of Britain’s most outstanding instrumentalists electrified the blues world by joining forces. It was two years ago that Ginger Baker rang me to say, “Me and Jack are forming a group with Eric.”

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published: November 26, 2008 in column: Classic Vantage

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Was Bob Dylan the Previous Bruce Springsteen?

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Originally published in NME,

An analysis of stardom as related to the psychological needs of the audience

Bruce Springsteen: photo by Baron Wolman“Randy Newman is great but he’s not touched. Joni Mitchell is great but she’s not touched. Bruce is touched… he’s a genius!” Manager Mike Appel is talking in the dressing rooms of the Spectrum stadium in Philadelphia. His artist, Bruce Springsteen, has just finished a 40-minute opening set and Chicago are tuning up in the room next door.

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published: November 19, 2008 in column: Classic Vantage

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Angry Young Women

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Patti Smith: photo by Joe SiaOriginally published in Vogue

Rock ‘n’ roll is being hijacked by angry girls with electric guitars. Tired of playing airbrushed pop dollies for salivating male voyeurs, women on both sides of the Atlantic have seized the traditional rock weapon of phallic oppression and made it their own.

More importantly, they have exploded the Ideal Feminine of pop by singing of sweat and blood, lust and menstruation, fear and self-loathing. Inger Lorre of LA’s infamous Nymphs quotes Rimbaud to the effect that, when a woman has thrown off her servitude, she will “discover strange, unfathomable, repellent, delicious things”—which is precisely what acts as diverse as Hole, Belly, L7, Daisy Chainsaw, PJ Harvey, the Breeders, and Babes in Toyland are busy doing on their new releases.

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published: November 12, 2008 in column: Classic Vantage

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Crawdaddy! Founder on His Experience at the Bed-in for Peace

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John and Yoko: Photo courtesy of imaginepeace.comOriginally published in Rediscovering Rock and Roll, A Journey: Chapter Six

A friend said he saw me on Friday Night Videos last week. Apparently they’ve made an after-the-fact video of John Lennon’s “Give Peace a Chance”, edited from the Canadian TV footage of John & Yoko’s “bed-in” in Montreal, and there I am singing out of tune and clapping my hands with the Hare Krishnas and Tim Leary and everybody. I’ve never seen the footage myself, but it’s nice to be part of history (like the guy who shouted “Whipping Post!” on the Allman Brothers’ Live at the Fillmore album). I can also be seen talking to somebody backstage for a few seconds in the Woodstock movie, and dancing crazily to Howlin’ Wolf in the film about the Newport Folk Festivals.

The story about “Give Peace a Chance” is, I was traveling with Timothy and Rosemary Leary at the time; Tim was supposedly running for Governor of California, and my role for the week was campaign adviser. The first thing we did, after speaking to a college audience in San Luis Obispo, was fly to Hollywood, Florida for a rock festival on an Indian reservation, organized by the acid-dealing children of the Miami Mafia. The musicians and speakers never got paid (the Grateful Dead put on a great show anyway), but we managed to get plane tickets to New York, where Tim gave a press conference and introduced me to prospective campaign contributors as the hippie son of (then-unmarried) Canadian premier Trudeau.

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published: November 5, 2008 in column: Classic Vantage

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