Welcome friends,
This is part three. Like I said, there will be a four and there will be a six. But I can’t say for certain about a five. All I know is that I’m really tired of influencers being the butt of jokes. Influencers are everything. Influencers make it all possible. And we’re going to talk about a few of them. Mighty influencers like Link Wray, John Lee Hooker, Oliver Anthony, and more. So let’s get on with the program, shall we?
“Traveling Man”
Dolly Parton
Coat of Many Colors (1971)
Bone broth is so trendy right now. For good reason. Drink enough of it and you just might live forever.
There are at least two versions of this song out there. But let me break it down. I’m thinking you might want the version where Dolly hums through the breaks. The humming is like a bone you leave in there while the soup simmers. You’re meant to remove the bone before you serve it up. In the final mix the engineer could’ve easily muted or edited out the humming along with the drummer clicking his sticks four times and other extraneous noise. But no: the bone stays in the picture, kid.
“Tupelo”
John Lee Hooker
The Folk Lore of John Lee Hooker (1961)
Speaking of the version you want, there are a mess of them by the man himself of this one, but you want the 1961 track, where you can hear the traffic and the honking of a car horn. And if those clues aren’t enough, for those who know anything about “ringing out the monitors,” it sounds like a mic is about to take off at the beginning. Luckily, it sounds like they got that squeal under control in no time.
Coming to you live from the dawn of the Information Age, John Lee tells the story of a flood. A great flood. And it’s all I really know about the great flood of Tupelo, Mississippi. It’s all I need to know.
“I’ll never forget it and I know you never will either.”
P.S.: According to people who know these kinds of things, that’s Spike Lee’s father on bass. Bill Lee.
P.P.S.: Stephie and I once spent a Halloween sitting around John Lee’s dining room table. Trick-or-treaters ringing the bell. Halloween with the boogieman. More on that later.
“Fallin’ Rain”
Link Wray
Link Wray (1971)
Before Syd Barrett went into seclusion. Before personalized coffee mugs. Before Dylan went electric. Before Manchester went baggy. Back when a buck was still silver and a joint a bad place to be—before all of that—there was the maestro of primitivo: Link Wray.
And Link knew what time it was when he sang about the bloodbath that closed out the 60s: “Don’t forget Kent State where kids lay bleeding on the ground.”
I know how this song makes me feel, but I’m not sure I can tell you how or why. First of all, no one sings better than Link Wray. Wait, what? There’s no veil separating you from him here. Even when he’s conjuring up images of pitchforks and devils and lakes of fire that burn forever, he’s totally himself. The master of simplicity in an infinitely complicated way.
Atom Ellis, who played bass in the Mission Express for a while, did a long stint in Link’s band. He regularly witnessed disappointed looks on the faces of the rockabilly weirdos in the front row when this power chording pioneer made his entrance to the stage with his long stringy hair sporting a fanny pack. What have you done to our goth superhero? Where’s the black leather, man?
According to Atom, Link loved his fanny pack. Bought personal fanny packs for the whole band, in fact. He’d say, “Atom, why aren’t you wearing that fanny pack I got you?”
Link knew what time it was.
Always.
I like to play this song in the car. And when I do, no matter the weather, droplets of rain gather on my windshield. I swear.
“Shut Up Sheila”
Ashley McBryde
Never Will (2020)
Ashley McBryde is tough. A force. And dig this: she worked a day job at Guitar Center. Now THAT’s country. Here, she unapologetically gives the finger to the Christians within her clan. “We don’t sing Amazing Grace. We go about letting go in our own way.”
Do country stations play this kind of thing? If so, what’s everyone complaining about?
“Shut up Sheila. Can’t you see we’re all talkin’? Why don’t you and Jesus take a walk down the hallway?”
“Carol”
Tommy Roe
Ballads and Beat (1965)
Yes, that’s the inimitable Reggie Young playing on this particularly swinging version of a Chuck Berry classic. You’ve heard Reggie. Trust me. Among other things, he played that slinky guitar lick that kicks off “Son of a Preacher Man.” Here, he’s up in the mix. And it’s killer. Chuck Berry licks so graphic you could draw them from memory, I’m sure. But on this cut, Reggie’s touch and his “in-tune-ness” is really something else. Something extra.
Added bonus: Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow BV’s shoehorned in there at no additional cost.
”Wild in the Streets”
Garland Jeffreys and the Mission Express
Live at the Bootleg Theatre (2015)
There’s a way cool documentary on Garland just now making the rounds. More on that here.
This clip is from 6 years ago. When we did a California tour backing the G Man. Me and the Mission Express behind “the poet laureate of Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn, the King of the Streets, the leader of our gang, the Sexiest Man in Scandinavia.”
This is from an L.A. gig. Garland sure put us through our paces.
P.S.: “If you go into a bar in NYC and Garland Jeffreys ain’t on the jukebox, turn around. You’re in the wrong bar.”—Village Voice
I said, “Hey!”
“Something”
James Brown
The Singles, Volume 8: 1972–1973 (1973)
George Harrison said this was his favorite version. And that’s saying something—there’s quite a few. Including Sinatra’s. Live, the Chairman was known to introduce “Something” as a Lennon/McCartney composition. Poor George couldn’t get a damn break.
James Brown pulls the camera way back and makes the song about something bigger. About God, womankind, and faith in an interchangeable way. Make me!
Wanna believe
Need to believe
Make me believe
Whooo hoooo!
“Rich Men North of Richmond”
Oliver Anthony Album
Rich Men North of Richmond (2023)
Pop culture is hopeless. But who am I kidding? We’d be lost without it.
Look, I don’t have much of an opinion on the “Rich Men North of Richmond” phenom. Nor do I have an opinion on how Ticketmaster is hosing you at the pump, plastic forks, or the healing properties of CBD oil. (Okay, I lied a little. Enough with plastics. They’re harmful to our health, the environment, and human rights.)
And I know I’m late to the Oliver Anthony party. But I do have a clue why this song is a hit. It’s the details, Jackson. The details make it believable. When he gets to the part about “Fudge Rounds,” I actually had to look it up. Consult Mr. Google. Turns out “Fudge Rounds” are part of the Little Debbie franchise (America’s No. 1 snack cake brand!). Think: Whoopie Pies. They are fudgy round chocolate cookies, sandwiched together with chocolate buttercream. I was like, “Whoa, that’s some John Murry stuff there!” This guy must be for real.
Here I go again, about the fine art of newslettering: First, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m still making this up on the fly. So why not see where it leads and become a paid subscriber today, if you’re not already? Or you can always donate to Doctors Without Borders. They've been providing food, water, and healthcare around the globe for 50 years. Or an abortion rights fund or any gun violence prevention group. They can ban abortions, but can’t seem to grasp that guns on demand is… problematic.
You can also do none of the above and just carry on. We are happy to have you.
Onward,
-CP
Man, you always hip me to some "new" music and validate my choices when you include stuff I know.
Thanks and give 'em hell in' 24
Lots of talk about Stanford. So, I will add a Stanford story.
The first time I visited San Fran was to visit my brother. He had just graduated college and moved from our home state of Georgia to dig for dot.com gold. We went out for a night on the town and settled down at a place called the Club Deluxe. There was a bar tender who everyone called the Vice Grip. People were swing dancing like it was 1932. My brother met a sweet girl who had just graduated from Stanford. They connected like two magnets at a science fair. The next afternoon, she gave us the grand tour of her campus. We walked down to the square where we found a couple dozen people in a circle playing 5-gallon buckets as drums. One guy kept walking from pail to pail testing each one for his perfect pitch. I thought that was super funny. No one laughed but me. At one point the earth started to tremble and I assumed we were experiencing an earthquake. I was the only one who felt anything, and it never made the news. The California people thought I was crazy. But I am sure they were crazy. We all had crazy fun.
My brother has now been married to the girl from Stanford for 30 years.
I have probably been to San Francisco 50 times since then and there is something I love about it. It is a magical place. It is the bigger Nashville, Memphis, or Macon Georgia. But these places all share something. That Something is the mystery behind art and beauty. I hope we never figure it out.
That’s my Stanford experiment/ experience.
Thanks for the tunes. They are appreciated.