January Jukebox: Because There's More to Life than Politics

What hit January's turntable at Soriano's Circus HQ

Time to take a step sideways, so that we can chill for a bit while all the shit being shot-gunned at us flies by. Oh, don’t worry. We won’t be missing anything but details and specifics. Who or what Trump attacks today, tomorrow, or next week will change but we will get the same percentage of real threat vs nonsense vs what-the-fuck vs pettiness…and, if it already isn’t, it will get tiresome.

So, since this is going to be a long fight, it is best to take brief moments to disengage and, if possible, do something fun or at least not-Trump related. There should be no guilt or panic around this, especially being that this is a “weekend getaway.” Seriously, if we can’t remove ourselves from Trump by ourselves, when we want, for however long we want, we have allowed Trump to control us.

Though we rarely hear it mentioned, one of the greatest rights outlined in the US Constitution is Freedom of Association, that is being able to choose who we hang out, spend time, cohabitate, and share space with. That includes our “leaders.” If we are compelled to pay attention to the president, we have no freedom of association. We are as trapped, psychologically, as a citizen in North Korea…and, what is worse, is that we’ve done it to ourselves.

So, with that here’s January’s Jukebox, a sampling of the music we’ve been listening to here at Soriano’s Circus.

Led Zeppelin III LP (Atlantic, 1970). Cup of coffee in one hand, the other slips Led Zeppelin’s third into the car stereo. I take a sip of hot, hot coffee while the drum and guitar kick in, and Plant’s “Ahhhh Ahhhhh Ahhhhh” soars. And then the bass rumbles in and, there you go, heavy metal history. If there are just three riffs that shaped heavy metal, they are the main one in Deep Purple’s “Smoke on the Water,” the bridge in “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath,” and the bass rumble in “The Immigrant Song.” And “The Immigrant Song” is easily one of the best album openers in rock & roll. From there, the rest of III rules. “Friends” has a Roy Harper influence but it is its own monster. “Celebration Day” and “Out on the Tiles” are tops as rockers. “Tangerine” is sweetness and “Since I've Been Loving You” moves blues rock into a different area. The rest of the songs are great. For a long time, Physical Graffiti was my favorite LZ album, but lately III has earned that honor.

Various The Paths Of Pain: The CAIFE Label, Quito, 1960-68 2LP (Honest Jon’s, 2021, UK). A few days ago, a friend wrote that he was going to Ecuador and that he wanted some record tips. I gave him a mildly helpful answer and then remembered this great archival compilation released by the always reliable Honest Jon’s. One of the reasons The Paths of Pain is very special is that the first records folks tend to find when digging into the Andean area of South America are trad folk featuring panpipe and harp, loaded with music least likely to offend American ears. So, you buy a few records and stop, never getting deep enough to find the truly magical stuff. The CAIFE record label released trad folk, but, because, it put out records for Ecuadorians, your ears get Ecuador unfiltered, and because the people at Honest Jon’s dig deep, you get to hear stuff that is buried deep in the CAIFE catalog. Excellent.

Capitaine Nô s/t LP (RCA Victor, 1975, Canada). Though the Capitaine is from Quebec the music sounds like a mish-mash of Dr. John, Randy Newman, Sir Doug, and the like. It’s really good and the band is tight, but what makes this record is Capitaine Nô’s vocals, which are a bit goofy, over-the-top, and unique without detracting from his overall sound.

Lio s/t LP (Ariola, 1980, Belgium). Lio’s debut a perfect pop record, a combo of Ye-Ye, bubblegum, and the poppy side of synth-pop. Teenage Lio has a “youthful” voice, but not an obnoxious one. The music is crisp and bops from style to style without making the album sound fractured. The band is Telex, who made some great synth pop records. The producer is Alan Ward of Plastic Bertrand/Elton Motello. The song selection is great – Lio even covers the Stinky Toys! And while I hear the following in Lio’s songs – Os Mutantes, DEVO, Claudine Longet, Le Tigre, Human League, Chic, Françoise Hardy - this is no sound-a-like album. Pinched from my wife’s collection, judging by tail wags, this is our dog’s favorite record.

Javier Solís Payaso LP (CBS, 1965, Mexico). Back in the 1990s, I started getting into Mexican music – first, the funky and the freaky, of course; then whatever I could find for cheap. Cheap meant old mariachi and ranchera albums, as well as records by guitar duos and trios. I fell hard for southern sounds of the 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s. The songs are romantic. The production is gorgeous. And the sound is lost to time, something that could only come from Mexico when it was put to tape. Payaso was in a stack of old mariachi records I picked up somewhere. There’s a clown on the cover, which kept me from throwing it on…but never judge a record by its cover. When I finally dropped needle, what I heard was what many a Mexican has: A classic. One of the best records of its genre, a lovely beast by a sensational vocalist, one who took the long walk at age 36.

Jackie Lee Waukeen Cochran Swamp Fox LP (Rollin’ Rock, 1974). When Ronny Weiser emigrated from Europe to the U.S., he had one reason: He wanted to rock. Obsessed with early rock & roll and rockabilly, in 1969, Weiser started a zine called Rollin’ Rock. As Weiser stumbled on not-so-old original rockers and contemporary rockabilly freaks, he heard lots of unreleased music, so he did what record freaks do, he started a record label. Now this was far before the Stray Cats, Blasters, and the early 1980s rockabilly/roots rock revival, and it was not hip. Not at all. These rockabilly cats were thought of as hicks, and though some were, what they were playing was raw, vital rock & roll, something much closer to The Cramps than slicked-up trendies like the Rock Cats. Swamp Fox is one of the best albums Rollin’ Rock produced. It is spare and raw, with sound that is tough to nail to an era. Yes, this could be 1958 or 1968 or 1978 or 1988. Great stuff.

Elliott Murphy Night Lights LP (RCA Victor, 1976). Up until six months ago, when Fred DeVries pitched me an Elliott Murphy story for Record Time, I had forgot about this guy. My copy of Aquashow (1973) is filed on a shelf and hasn’t been pulled since the 1990s. Even then, I didn’t spin it much. That’s because the cover says “GLAM!” but the grooves state singer-songwriter (ssw), and at the time, I was not going for the ssw. Fred’s pitch got me to pull Aquashow and then track down his next two – Lost Generation (1975) and this one. Listened to back-to-back-to-back, I got hooked. Murphy is technically a singer-songwriter and his sound is “mellow” but he’s ssw the way Lou Reed, David Bowie, Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen, Jonathan Richman, Patti Smith, and, of course, Bob Dylan is. Anyway, this is a really nice listen (as are the first two), especially “Diamonds by the Yard” and “You Never Know What You’re In For.”

Monna Bell s/t LP (Musart, 1968). One day, while in a Sacramento record shop, I flipped my way to several albums by Monna Bell from the 1960s. The cover art shows Ms. Bell in psychedelic mini-skirts, mod slacks, and a Twiggy-style bob. The records were from Mexico and the liner notes on one record mention Chile, her home country. The songs were a mix of pop greatness (Bert Bacharach, Jimmy Webb, etc.) and hip Latin styles. I take them home and find Bell’s sound is wedged between Ye Ye, Nancy Sinatra, and Mexican grupero. Nice score!

Marionette Blonde Secrets & Dark Bombshells LP (Heavy Metal, 1985, UK). The four guys on the record cover are dressed ‘80s Sunset Strip via New York Dolls/Hanoi Rocks, and musically that’s where they are coming from, but something – lack of chops, laziness, fun – Marionette subverts the glam for punk. Give these guys hair cuts and dress them as UK punkers circa 1977 and this record is punk, as punk as The Heartbreaker’s LAMF.

Julee Cruise Floating Into The Night LP (Warner Bros, 1989). So, yeah, like most everyone who loved David Lynch, when the film-master died, I reached for something that reminded me of him. As great as it is, that something was not the Eraserhead soundtrack. No, it had to be something done by Angelo Badalamenti, because that it what fit the mood of Lynch’s death. And, so it is Julee Cruise, my favorite vehicle for Lynch and Badalamenti’s “vision.”

Miles Davis A Tribute To Jack Johnson LP (Columbia, 1971). Lord, it must have been twenty years ago that Chris Woodhouse gave me a promo copy of Miles’ Bitches Brew sessions, the raw stuff, unedited by Teo Macero, the man who helped create and shape what we know as Electric Miles. I love Macero. I love how he worked with Miles. I would not change any of the records they did together. But until then I hadn’t heard Miles at his peak unfiltered. Fucking mind-blowing. And then going back to listen to Bitches Brew as it was originally released. Also (still) mind-blowing. That is when Miles started climbing up my top jazz musicians list, first past Eric Dolphy and Mingus, then Ayler, Shepp, and Coltraine, finally Ornette and Monk, both whom are still favorites but, listen, greatness cannot be denied and Miles is greatness. I listen to Miles enough that there is the long rotation and the short rotation. The short rotation is the Bitches Brew sessions, In a Silent Way, Agharta, Ascenseur Pour L´échafaud, and Jack Johnson. This month I happen to have listened to a lot of Jack Johnson, as it fits the mood of the time.