I collect dead people

Mr. Shider as I'll remember him.

While visiting the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum in Cleveland, Ohio, last summer (Cleveland rocks, by the way), I saw a modest little exhibit with photos and biographies of Hall of Famers who had recently passed away.  Among those honored was Garry Shider, longtime member of George Clinton’s Parliament/Funkadelic troupe.

I hadn’t known that Shider was no longer with us, but I must admit I felt a brief thrill because I had seen him perform with Parliament/Funkadelic a few years before – wearing his signature “Star Child” diaper, no less.  In fact, I embarrassed myself at that show by asking someone, “Is that Garry Shider?” – just like the voice on a great old Parliament record that keeps repeating, “Which one is George Clinton?  Which one is George Clinton?…”

Yep, Garry Shider is dead, but I saw him live in concert!  I’m like a mercenary art collector who rejoices when a painter dies.

Immediately, I started counting up the other dead stars I’d seen onstage before they kicked the bucket:

• Bassist John Entwistle during the Who’s “Farewell Tour” in 1983.  I remember the promoter delayed the start of the Who’s set so more people could see this historic show.  Of course, the band was still touring about 20 years later when Entwistle died, and they keep going with just Pete Townshend, Roger Daltrey, and more substitutes.
• Alex Chilton, ex-leader of the Box Tops (“The Letter”) and the incomparable Big Star, at New York City’s Knitting Factory in the late ’80s.  He passed away at age 59 this year.
• Keyboardist Danny Federici, dead at 58 in 2008, with Springsteen’s E Street Band during the mammoth mid-’80s Born in the USA tour.
• Pianist Ian Stewart during the Rolling Stones’ Tattoo You tour in ’81.  Relegated to backstage and sideman roles because he wasn’t pretty enough for the up-and-coming Stones’ image in 1963, he contributed to some of the band’s best work as well as one-offs like Led Zeppelin’s “Boogie with Stu” in 1975.  Ten years later – dead of a heart attack.
• Beach Boy Carl Wilson at something called the “U.S. Olympic Festival” in 1986.  A gifted songwriter with an angelic voice, he died of cancer in 1998.

I’m actually trying to remember other people, now deceased, whom I’ve been lucky enough to see onstage.  Shameful. Morbid.

On the bright side, I don’t think I’ll add the Stones’ Keith Richards to the list anytime soon.  He always looks like death, but he’s likely to outlast me, my house, my children, and Lloyd’s of London.

The 17 Greatest Songs of All Time!

Forget the list of 500 “greatest songs of all time” that Rolling Stone recently put out.  This is it!  My unimpeachable list is based on extensive historical research as well as the opinion of the world’s foremost authority on songs that I like – me!

Since it’s problematic to compare songs from different eras on an equal footing, the list is not shown as a ranking from “least great” to “most great.”  Instead, the format is reverse chronological, with the oldest stuff first.

Prehistoric Era:

Leon “Skullcrash” Umm: “Smaaargggh!” (from the album Stone Age Stoned)
Perhaps the first popular song ever made, “Smaaargggh!” featured blood-curdling screams punctuated by the artist’s creative use of human skulls as tom-toms and 20-pound tree branches as drumsticks. Witnesses reported that the song took on a different tone when the skulls were still attached to their live owners.

Amanda Mama: “Whaaah?” (from the compilation 10 from What Might Become Northern Africa Sometime in the Far Future)
The first protest song, “Whaaah?” describes the pain any woman may have felt at being knocked unconscious and dragged into some stranger’s cave.  Hear her roar!

Biblical Era:

Sacred Rhymer: “The Valley of the Shadow” (from the album Psalms on Fire)
Sacred Rhymer, or “S-Rhyme” to his fans, is widely regarded as the founder of a capella  hip-hop, mainly due to this fast-paced version of Psalm 23.  The album Psalms on Fire quite likely was the world’s first concept album.  While working on the highly anticipated follow-up Sexy Song of Songs, however, S-Rhyme fell afoul of the religious authorities and was either stoned to death, burned at the stake, or some combination of both.

Elijah, Son of Abraham: “Rome Ain’t My Home” (from the album We Don’t Need No Stinkin’ Aqueducts)
Rumor has it that Elijah, an outspoken critic of the Roman Empire’s expansionist policies, wrote this one while awaiting his crucifixion.  Remarkably, he avoided the death sentence by promising to change his ways, going so far as to compose beautiful love songs for the emperor’s 16th wedding.  Five years later, at an independent artists’ colony, he died from an unidentified disease contracted from untreated well water.

Middle Ages

Lute-Man Luther: “Fabulous Friar Tuck” (from Rockin’ Robin Hood)
Luther is credited with creating the myth of Robin Hood and capitalizing on it by selling commemmorative bows and arrows, silly green hats, and cash-in concept albums such as Rockin’ Robin Hood Goes to Atlantis and Gets it on with the Fish.  Needless to say, the first Rockin’ Robin Hood  album is by far the best, and “Fabulous Friar Tuck” started the world’s first dance craze.  Based on illustrations from the period, the dance itself wasn’t much to look at.

Renaissance

Nine-Inch Boils: “Black Death Overture” (from The Plague: Parts I through LXXVII)
As a pseudonym for Trento Bello Reznicchio, a traveling minstrel from Florence, Italy, Nine-Inch Boils specialized in yelling about grotesque and forbidden subjects for hours on end.  “Black Death Overture,” in its popular Georgio Morodori remix version, emphasizes the beautiful melody, which helps the listener avoid thinking about  lyrics such as “Black pus flings death through your broken bones / Loud bells of doom chime with each blistering moan.”

The Wandering Minstrels 3: “Lovely Ladies of the Land” (from The Wandering Minstrels Would Like to Inquire About the Availability of Your Daughters for a Wholesome Night of Frolic)
Notorious womanizers, the Wandering Minstrels 3 ruled the European countryside until they got ensnared first in a series of love triangles and then an extremely tense love octagon that ended in tears, recriminations, and 22 annulments over the course of 18 months.  Reunions served only to bring the old tensions back, and “come-back” albums such as Seriously, the Wandering Minstrels are All Getting Along Wonderfully These Days convinced no one. 

Baroque

Johann Sebastian Monteverdi: “The Canon” (from  Air on the Dark Side)
Not one person, but a group of four or five singer/musicians, Johan Sebastian Monteverdi (or “Monte” to their legions of fans), specialized in expensive performance events, complete with gunfire and, at one point, the world’s largest oil lamp (measuring three miles in diameter).  “The Canon,” perhaps their most spectacular achievement, was a noisy version of Pachelbel’s “Canon in D,” punctuated by the firing of up to 250 cannons at once.  Rehearsals for the 30th anniversary performance of this work, however, turned tragic, as three of the four Montes lost their hearing before the elaborate production could be staged. Plans for an ambitious version of Handel’s Water Music, performed with the aid of 2,000 whales and dolphins, had to be scrapped. 

Classical Era

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik”
Needs no explanation. Needs no introduction.  So obvious it shouldn’t even be listed.

Ludwig van Beethoven: final movement of Ninth Symphony (incorporating “Ode to Joy”)
Needs no explanation. Needs no introduction.  Still, it helps not to think of A Clockwork Orange when listening to it.

Modern and Post-Modern

“Silver Bells,” composed around 1950 by Jay Livingston and Ray Evans and recorded by everyone from Bing Crosby, Bob Hope, Robert Goulet, Andy Williams, and John Denver to Billy Idol and Bob Dylan.
Not that I’m dyin’ to hear Dylan’s version, but this is a great song, whether or not Christmas is just around the corner.

The Beatles: “Your Mother Should Know” (from 1967’s Magical Mystery Tour)
I love it.  My mother loves it.  There you have it.

Todd Rundgren: “When the Shit Hits the Fan/Sunset Boulevard” (from 1973’s A Wizard, A True Star)
By far the catchiest song about the end of the world as we know it (and I do like the REM song “It’s the End of the World as We Know It”), with time-signature trickery that heightens the tension throughout.  It also leads right into the rousing reprise of “International Feel,” which serves as the theme song to side one of the old vinyl album.

Slapp Happy/Henry Cow: “Strayed” (from 1975’s Desperate Straights)
Songwriter Peter Blegvad’s poetic rhymes don’t get better than this (“All my dismembered half-remembered yesterdays / Snowing sour rays /Interfere with clearly being here today…” – and that’s just the first three lines), and neither do his melodies.  Add Fred Frith’s surf-guitar solo and Chris Cutler’s breakneck drums and pack it into 113 seconds of pop pleasure, and you’ve got a classic.  Too bad all the people who’ve heard it could probably fit into a 1973 Volkswagen Bug.

Parliament: “P-Funk (Wants to Get Funked Up)” (from 1975’s Mothership Connection)
Leader George Clinton plays DJ and leads you through a celebration of all things funk, which will cure all your ills:
“If you got faults, defects or shortcomings,
You know, like arthritis, rheumatism or migraines,
Whatever part of your body it is,
I want you to lay it on your radio, let the vibes flow through.
Funk not only moves, it can re-move…”

M: “Pop Muzik” (from 1980’s New York – London – Paris – Munich)
Silly, repetitive nursery-rhyme lyrics, a dance beat that finally breaks the disco/New Wave barrier (the white polyester suits were kinda dorky, but disco didn’t suck), and a simple riff that ruled the world for a couple of weeks.  Now that’s pop!

Fountains of Wayne: “Red Dragon Tattoo” (from 1999’s Utopia Parkway)
The funniest coming-of-age song I’ve ever heard.  “With nothing to prove,” some guy gets a tattoo to impress his girlfriend.  Priceless!

Well, there you have it – the greatest of the great.  I’m sure this will be the last word on the subject.