I’ve been a fan and was influenced very early on by The Yardbirds.  I was never keen on Eric Clapton (and still am not) or Jimmy Page (although I do love Led Zeppelin).  I’m also not a great fan of guitar virtuosos.  Watching the uber-flashy style of someone like Eddie Van Halen was always a cringe.  But Jeff Beck IS the one true master – and he was, to me, THE Yardbirds’ guitarist who mattered.  Go back to “Over, Under, Sideways, Down”, “Shapes Of Things” or “Mr. You’re A Better Man Than I” – his playing was fluid, took good songs and gave them life and his sound was absolutely his own.  Hence, he’s the only guitarist whose career I’ve followed from the time he founded The Jeff Beck Group in 1968 through all his solo albums up to Flash.  There have been moments, I’m happy to say, when I’ve been able to cop a lick or two or nail one of Beck’s solos in my own playing but he’ll always be the guru as long as I play a Telecaster.

Even though he joined The Yardbirds in 1965, in 2016, Beck celebrated his 50th year as a living guitar legend with an unbelievable performance at the Hollywood Bowl and he did it in style with some incredible guests to help out – all heavy hitters in their own right.  Among the names on the bill include Beth Hart, Billy Gibbons and Steven Tyler.  Just from that alone, you should immediately understand that this was not going to be some ordinary concert with “special appearances”.  This also marked a major step forward for the newest gathering of players backing Mr. Beck, including powerhouse singer Rosie Bones and guitarist extraordinaire Carmen Vandenberg (both of the band Bones).  Longtime collaborator Jan Hammer is back behind the keyboards and there is no dearth of Jeff Beck classics in the mix of numbers performed.  Early on – the second song of this set – we’re immediately treated to the epic “Over Under Sideways Down” which follows into “Heart Full Of Soul” and “For Your Love” – three of The Yardbirds’ greatest hits and done with great energy with stellar vocals by Jimmy Hall of Wet Willie (!).  The monumental “Beck’s Bolero” is next (and what a magnificent band he has), leading into The Jeff Beck Group standard “Rice Pudding” and onto “Morning Dew”, again, sung by Mr. Hall.  One of my favorite pieces of Mr. Beck’s from 1980’s There And Back (probably my most-loved Beck solo album) is “Star Cycle”, where he’s joined by Mr. Hammer, who shoots keyboard melody to match Mr. Beck’s guitar fireworks.  Of the guest appearances that stand out (in a show filled with stand out moments), the incredible Beth Hart (who I’ve loved since she was on Atlantic Records when I worked there) rips through a version of “I’d Rather Go Blind” that induces chills; the legendary Buddy Guy joins Mr. Beck for “Let Me Love You” and Steven Tyler just tears the roof off the Hollywood Bowl with his near-perfect imitation of Rod Stewart on “Shapes Of Things”.  The finale is a tribute to Prince, as the group tears into “Purple Rain”.  All in all, a breathtaking collection and gathering of performances.

This release comes as a Blu-ray/DVD with 2 CDs; so thanks, Mr. Beck for your 50-plus years; because of you, my 39 years of guitar playing have always been infused with your influence and I’m grateful.  So too am I glad that there’s a document of this celebration, which is so richly deserved.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

Live At The Hollywood Bowl is currently available

www.jeffbeck.com

In this column, I’ve written about everyone from superstars who ran numerous hits up the charts to one-hit wonders who only had that single moment in the sun. Then are those who broke out of the gate with their big hit and then never repeated that initial success. It has to be the most frustrating feeling of all. Such an artist is Barbara Lynn who, while she had other chart records and even some R&B hits, never managed to equal the enormous success of her first release.

Lynn was born in Beaumont, Texas and began her musical pursuits as a piano player before she switched to guitar. Surely a female, African-American, left-handed electric guitarist who wrote her own songs was a rare thing at the time. Lynn’s influences were a mixture of blues artists like Jimmy Reed and pop purveyors like Elvis Presley and Brenda Lee. Lynn began her career playing in local clubs and her break came when singer Joe Barry caught her act and introduced her to producer Huey P. Meaux.

Meaux owned SugarHill Recording Studios in New Orleans along with a few record labels. But when it was time for Lynn to record her debut single she went to Cosimo Matassa’s legendary J&M studio. The song that was chosen was one written by Lynn and Meaux called “You’ll Lose a Good Thing.” Among the session players was one Mac Rebennack AKA Dr. John. Jamie Records released the single in August 1962 and it shot up to the #1 spot on the Billboard R&B chart while also nudging into the Top 10 on the Billboard Hot 100.

Based on the success of her debut single, Lynn hit the road with some of the biggest stars of the day including James Brown, Al Green, Stevie Wonder, Ike & Tina Turner, and Marvin Gaye. There were appearances at the Apollo theater and on American Bandstand. Lynn continued to release singles for Jamie until 1966. Among them were “You’re Gonna Need Me,” “Oh! Baby (We Got A Good Thing Goin’),” a Lynn-written song that was covered by the Rolling Stones, “Don’t Spread it Around,” and “It’s Better to Have It.” All of these titles were Top 40 R&B hits.

After leaving Jamie, Lynn signed with Meaux’s Tribe label where she had another R&B chart hit with “You Left the Water Running.” In 1967, Lynn signed with Atlantic Records. Dissatisfaction with the label together with the desire to raise her growing family led Lynn to mostly opt out of the music business in the 1970s although while living in Los Angeles during this time she did play a few club gigs and released one-off singles here and there.

In 1984, Lynn toured Japan where she recorded a live album. After her husband died, Lynn returned to Beaumont in and 1994 she recorded her first studio album in over 20 years. Several more albums followed most recently Blues & Soul Situation in 2004. Lynn received the Pioneer Award from the Rhythm and Blues Foundation in 1999.

To start 2018 off the right way, it’s time to step into the Wayback Machine, circa the late ’70’s/early ’80’s in the New York/New Jersey area.  My band was part of that scene; Two Minutes Hate began in August, 1983 and was a going concern until 1985 (soon morphing into The Punch Line).  It was a wonderfully ripe time for local bands and a plethora of clubs in the area.  Maxwell’s aside, there were places like The Court Tavern, The Jetty, The Dirt Club and so on, as well as the clubs in Manhattan; local bands were everywhere, a good portion of which were doing original music, the same as we were.  A few of those bands made it to national/international prominence.  But there were quite a few great bands who didn’t and have had the years neglect to give them their due.  So I’d like to correct this oversight.

The Rockin’ Bricks, from New Brunswick were one such band (the name was conceived as a quasi-humorous perversion of Flamin’ Groovies, a band much-admired by guitarist Pete Tomlinson).  The Bricks rose out of the ruins of Big Help in 1979 – Big Help being the late Fran Kowalski’s songwriting/group vehicle following his stint with Alex Chilton’s Cossacks.  Chris Breetveld (bass, keyboards, vocals), Bill DiMartino (drums) and Pete Tomlinson (guitar, vocals) had played together for years in Central New Jersey, prior to their time with Big Help, so continuing on as a unit made sense.

In early 1980, the trio recruited Joe Vocino (guitar, vocals) and Tom Priester (keyboards). While failing to progress past rehearsal stage, the band provided a workable structure for Vocino and Breetveld’s original material. Unfortunately, Vocino left in late ’80 (sadly, he passed away in 2007, writing and playing to the end). Subsequently, the quartet began to play the occasional show at clubs that featured original music, like Trenton’s City Gardens. It was around this period that the Bricks began to feature, in addition to their own material, spontaneous versions of songs as far afield as Tommy James & the Shondells’ “Hanky Panky”, the Stones’ “All Sold Out”, and, on one beer-soaked occasion, “Light My Fire” – having fun and winging it onstage remained a Bricks’ hallmark.

In mid-1981, Priester left to attend Hunter College, and the “classic” Bricks lineup was born with the addition of Joe Hosey (guitar, vocals). High school pals with Mr. Tomlinson, Mr. Hosey had most recently been in Trenton’s Shades, at that time probably the most popular “original” band in that region. He brought with him songs like “Heartbeat” and “Can’t Say No”, both to feature on the band’s Having A Wild Weeknight EP.

Lineup finally solidified, the Bricks struck upon a bit of serendipity when several bars in New Brunswick (notably, the Court Tavern) decided to feature local combos for cheap entertainment. Combined with the then-drinking age of 18, and New Brunswick’s enormous student population (as the home of Rutgers University), the forces were aligned to generate a vibrant local scene, and The Rockin’ Bricks were on the proverbial ground floor. The Court Tavern and the numerous clubs that sprung up in its wake comprised the heart of the live circuit they thrived in for the remainder of their lifespan. (It should be noted that the most renowned band to emerge from this scene were The Smithereens, friends of the Bricks from early on. Drummer Dennis Diken would, in fact, substitute for DiMartino on more than one occasion.)

Recording was always an aim of the Bricks, mostly encouraged by Breetveld, an avid 4-track reel-to-reel devotee. The Bricks not only worked in professional 24-track studios (where they recorded the aforementioned …Wild Weeknight, engineered by Andy Wallace, who went on to great acclaim as a producer/engineer with an impossibly long list of credits – most notably as mixer of Nirvana’s Nevermind), but several smaller facilities. This has proven fortunate in hindsight, as they have plenty of examples of the breadth of their material, collected on this magnificent retrospective, Rockin’ Bricks Compleat. “Pop” (as in the questionable genre “power pop”) was always their primary thrust, but the far-flung influences of the group members (all of whom wrote) gave their sound an unidentifiable quality.

Of course, their eclectic nature did not lend itself to easy definition, which did them no favors when presented to “big time” record company A&R personnel, all of whom passed on the group. By this time (early 1983), entropy and the time-honored “personal differences” had overtaken the Bricks’ early optimism, and Breetveld was the first to leave. He was replaced by Peter Tutak, a stellar instrumentalist (seen in the group’s only “official” video, “Heartbeat”), but by this time, the Bricks’ days could be counted on one hand (well, maybe both hands: still, their time left was brief).  By late 1983, the Rockin’ Bricks were no more.

And here we find this remarkable document of the Bricks’ recorded output which is a must.  Starting with the percussive throttle of “Planning My Weekend”, it has all the best elements of the early ’80’s new wave:  angular, jagged guitar lines, an incessantly catchy rumble, tongue in cheek lyrics and instantly makes you sit up and take notice.  “That Ain’t Right” is a definitive power pop classic; harmonies galore and built around 7th chords, it should have been on F.M. radio; “I Won’t Give It Up” is a pure punk piece with 100 m.p.h. tempo (comparable with The Buzzcocks’ style but with a hint of The Stranglers’ organ punches); “Trial And Error” has a Cheap Trick vibe with a heavier sounding guitar and “tougher” sound but still with top form melodic structure and “Foreign Girl” definitely gives The dB’s a run for their money with the sound and texture of the guitars – another “lost” radio gem.  “Someone To Love” would have fit so well on the playlists of WLIR or WHTG, sandwiched between R.E.M. and The Police as it embodies the era, but doesn’t sound dated and “T.V. Station” could easily have been their “crossover” hit!

Twenty-three tracks; not a “this is just okay” one in the bunch – all great; all varied and full of youth, excitement and life.  As it was meant to be.  This album definitely captured a band and a time beautifully and I’m so glad it’s available for all to hear.

Considering there was a vague feeling of unfinished business that hung in the consciousness of the various members for many, many years, in December 2017, The Rockin’ Bricks (including keyboardist Priester) re-formed for a single show. Slowed (perhaps) a step by age, but still brimming with the rock & roll spirit, the show was a complete success, and sent what once upon a time were one of New Jersey’s finest groups out on the high note they so richly deserved.  But let us hope that there may be more to come from The Rockin’ Bricks; it would only be fair.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

Rockin’ Bricks Compleat is currently available

https://rockinbricks.bandcamp.com/

I have long been a fan of Terry Gilliam. His Brazil is my favorite film of all time. But to say he’s been an inconsistent filmmaker is an understatement. I admire the fact that each of his films has elements to recommend them, but I would be lying if I said each film impacted me the same way. Additionally, the legendary production problems he faces are the sort of stories that scare would-be directors from ever getting behind the camera.

But Gilliam still walks behind it and creates a vision that cannot be claimed by anyone else. But has that vision always been present in his films?

Gilliam was famous long before he became a filmmaker as a member of the Monty Python troupe. He created the bizarre cutout animations that helped defined the look of the show. His directorial debut came in 1975 with the classic comedy Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

However, that was not truly Gilliam’s vision. The film was co directed with Terry Jones and doesn’t represent the departure from Python that Gilliam would later take. Although Gilliam would use his fellow Pythons in starring roles, his films would showcase new obsessions that Python never gave him the chance to explore, such as aging, childhood, and why fantasy is so appealing to so many people.

Most people go directly to Time Bandits when discussing Gilliam’s directorial filmography. At best, Jabberwocky gets a mention in a fan-written Monty Python encyclopedia as a curiosity that doesn’t match the level of satire present in Holy Grail. But the film is getting a critical re-evaluation, or at least, the sort of re-evaluation that gets a film a Criterion special edition release. So is it time to revisit Gilliam’s debut as one of the most overlooked directorial debuts in film history?

I’m not sure, because I did not see any of Gilliam’s style in Jabberwocky. It was a movie where, for the first time, Gilliam didn’t seem to understand the joke himself. Lewis Carroll wrote the original poem as a way to mock his English professor colleagues at Oxford. He thought they were made for spending their lives researching epic poems that Carroll himself saw as nonsensical. The fact we can read the poem and (sort of) understand what it all means proves his point.  To make a proper film out of it, the characters would have to be obsessed with a monster that doesn’t actually exist, fighting a battle that no one else is interested in acknowledging. It would be very similar to, ironically enough, Gilliam’s The Fisher King.

Here, however, Gilliam plays the medieval fantasy straight. Jabberwocky is almost identical to Holy Grail and its medieval England satirical targets.  There is the accidental hero who doesn’t seem to know about the magical world around him. There are the attacks on the English social institutions that have lasted through the centuries and there are jokes about the gender roles that are present in the histories that are still passed down.

First, there are the performances, which are  in the same vein as Holy Grail. Michael Palin is on autopilot as Dennis, a cooper’s son who is more obsessed with “taking inventory” than learning his trade. He’s completely shy in all social interactions and just seems to want everyone to like him. When they don’t (like his dad, screaming about how he’s a disappointment to him while dying) his mind is unable to process the information. It’s funny, but it’s the same character that Palin always plays. Brazil used Palin to greater effect as the friendly coworker who also specializes as a government torturer. Here, Gilliam doesn’t seem confident enough to toy with Palin’s character.

There are moments and ideas that Gilliam would carry for the rest of his career. Gilliam’s obsession with bureaucracy and the ruling class is evident in Jabberwocky. Most of the scenes with King Bruno the Questionable involve people arguing about why they shouldn’t kill the monster as it’s too good for the economy. That joke was used to better effect in Brazil, but here it’s strange because we never see the actual impact the monster is having on the citizens. They talk about it, and we see some people being killed by it out in the forest. But we never see the impact the monster is actually having. Even Dennis, who is accidentally tasked with killing the creature, is mostly oblivious about it. His story is more a “small town boy comes to the big city” plot, and he’s amazed by the advancements in the disgusting medieval village. He’s never properly introduced to those ideas the king is spouting and they never really seem to affect them. Yes, there are jokes about how he can’t find work as a skilled tradesman, but it’s undermined by the fact that we haven’t seen Dennis perform any skilled labor. There are a lot of good ideas in Jabberwocky but they never form a cohesive whole.

One bright spot of Jabberwocky is how Gilliam captured the dirty medieval aesthetic that went even beyond Holy Grail. The film looks delightfully filthy and leads to some great gags. My personal favorite involved the king and his family watching a jousting tournament, slowly becoming more blood-soaked as the knights battle on, and showing no reaction to the gore they’re covered in. Even Griselda, Dennis’s “love interest” (she clearly can’t stand him and Dennis is too oblivious to notice) has some great lines that match the filthiness. (“I’ve gotta scratch,” she exclaims and proceeds to do so as Dennis flirts with her.)  I also did like how the Jabberwocky itself looked. It’s a great costume effect that looks like an effect from an old kaiju film. Tim Burton would have done well to study this movie before making his lifeless Alice in Wonderland. Jabberwocky is still a delight to look at, something not every Gilliam film can say.

But we already know that Gilliam was a visual genius before he made the film. I was hoping to see more of a break from his Python origins. But he leans too much on them and repeats some of their jokes the group had explored to greater effect.  Gilliam has always been a visual filmmaker, and Jabberwocky shows his creative eye. But the film also feels too much like a first draft to a proper Gilliam film. He knows what he wants to attack and knows what he want to criticize. But his jokes mostly fall flat and those that do land are jokes that Monty Python did better.  Thankfully Gilliam would have a do-over with Time Bandits, which explored his strengths as a filmmaker in much better ways. There are elements of Jabberwocky that are quite good. But I still found the film lacking.

There’s a house party way ‘cross town

People coming from miles around

After working hard all week long

They got to get a thing going on

And suddenly we find ourselves at the end of another year. Time passes slowly when you’re young but it seems to accelerate as you get older. 2017, a difficult year if there ever was one, has sped by like a bullet. The good news is that with each new year there’s the hope of renewal, another chance to put the past behind us and start again. I don’t know who set things up this way but it’s kind of cool when you think about it. That’s what New Year’s resolutions are all about. So whether you want to lose a few pounds, read more books, or set a goal of being nicer to people, here’s your chance. It’s a time of celebration because once again we have the chance to see out the old and welcome in the new.

Bobby Womack has been covered at length in this column over the years so I’ll just say that in 1978 he released an album called Pieces and the leadoff track from that album, “It’s Party Time,” is perfect for your New Year’s celebration. The song was written by Don Davis (who also produced the album) and Willie Schofield, and the album’s backing musicians included Barry Beckett, Roger Hawkins, David Hood, and Jimmy Johnson of the legendary Muscle Shoals Swampers. Also of note is the presence of Candi Staton and former Temptation great David Ruffin helping out with vocals on a couple of tracks. While the album nods in the direction of the then prevalent disco sound, Womack retains his credibility as an old-school soul master.

Speaking of parties, a key component of any successful party is the music. Over the years I have been maintaining a Spotify playlist informed by this column. Each week I add the column’s featured song to the playlist. At this point, there are 361 songs on the list, nearly 20 hours of great soul music. So if you’re having a party this year, simply bring up the playlist, hit the play button, and enjoy yourself knowing that the music is taken care of. Here’s the link:

I want to close the column, and the year, by thanking you for taking the time to read my musings each week and wishing you all the best in 2018. Happy New Year!