A Face is as Good as a Stone to a Blind Horse (Requiem for Ronnie Lane)

Six reasons why The Faces are the best band ever.

1. Faces, Stay With Me, 1972

"Stay With Me" is in the Kool-Aid Man Hall of Fame and a fail-safe asshole test. Play this song for anyone between the ages of 25-65 and at least two beers in their system. If they're appropriately socialized, they'll be cannonballing into the hot tub at "red lips, hair, and fingernails." If they remain unmoved, as if The Faces were mere soundtrack music to their private drama ... asshole. Keep stepping.




2. Rod Stewart, Gasoline Alley, 1970

Welcome to Rod Stewart 40 years ago. He's not preening, not showboating, just gutting out the lyrics like a British David Ruffin. Within four years, he'll be an unwatchable aerobics instructor and a multi-millionaire. What do I know?




3. Faces, Dust My Broom/Twistin' The Night Away, 1974

The upside here is formidable. The band, including Keith Richards on smokin' lead guitar, sounds great and Rod has rarely sounded better. Plus, anytime you can get Ian MacLagan playing boogie-woogie piano, you're in good hands. On the downside, the video quality is poor (sorry about that) and Ronnie Lane isn't on bass (he quit in 1973). So, it's as much a Rod Stewart solo gig as it is a Faces gig, and after too much exposure to Rod's ass and nipples, I'm now blind after scooping my eyes out with a trident. Eh, I had a good run with vision. Think Rod's Jagger-esque "notice me" histrionics and Lane's departure were unrelated events? Yeah, me either.




4. Faces, Maybe I'm Amazed, 1971

This Paul McCartney cover is probably the best showcase of The Faces as a band. Kenney Jones, Ronnie Lane, and Ian McLagan don't get the pub of other rhythm sections from the rock heyday of 1967-74 ... and Ronnie Wood was as much as rhythm guitar player as he was lead ... but how many would you rather see live in their heyday? That's gotta be a short list.




5. Faces, Richmond, 1971

If Rod Stewart gave The Faces soul, Ronnie Lane gave them heart. Current discussions of a "Faces reunion" conveniently dismiss this fact. Rod and Ron can sing all the Faces songs they want, but unless we exhume Ronnie Lane and give him creative input, it ain't The Faces. It's "Rod and Ron sing Faces songs." Which is fine, just call it that.

The contrast between Stewart's gutbucket soul and Lane's country cool is evident in this video, a swaying country blues that's a real rarity. There's not much video footage of Lane leading his own band, but here he sings and doubles on bottleneck slide, with Wood on dobro, and Stewart on standup bass. Word.




6. Ronnie Lane & Slim Chance, Ooh La La, 1974

God bless Ronnie Lane and every damn word of this song, which is so true it borders on journalism. Yeah, I know Ron Wood is the co-writer, but Lane's remorseful fingerprints are all over it. Interestingly, Ronnie lived in Austin, TX, from 1984-94 and this Slim Chance version is a virtual template for The Gourds, with accordion, mandolin, and funky Texas heartbreak.

Just as Long as the Guitar Plays

Billboard on Sunset Blvd, 1972

A few days ago, the Rolling Stones released a remastered version of Exile On Main Street. I'm supposed to be excited about this, what with my membership in the Exile Might Be Greatest Album Ever fan club. Meh. Financially, it makes perfect sense. I'm actually surprised its taken this long for the band to leach Exile of its remaining nutrients. But, why is remastering a selling point? The album's value correlates directly to its swampy choogle and fuckedupness.

Albums like Exile and Tonight's The Night don't necessarily need remastering. They just need to be available. In that sense, I like that it's back in the spotlight, gaining a new generation of fans. It deserves it. But remastering? Please. It's like re-releasing Citizen Kane in 3-D or running "West End Blues" and "Hellhound On My Trail" through ProTools. "Yeah bro, we cleaned up the Robert Johnson, so it isn't all hellhound on my trail-y. And Blake added a little freestyle rap over Louis' intro. We felt it was missing something." If you want Exile, go to Amazon and buy the cheapest used copy you can find, preferably on vinyl. If you don't like that version, I don't wanna know if you like the cleaned-up version.

LOS ANGELES

"LA added a whole dimension to Exile's mixing and assembly. The sunlight, the drive to work, the way the girls look. LA's got a very strong set."
--Marshall Chess, LA Weekly

Michael Simmons has a good feature in last week's LA Weekly on an often overlooked aspect of Exile On Main Street. The basic tracks may have been recorded in southern France, but it was in Los Angeles that the album was mixed, overdubs added (and there were many), some songs were wholly remade ("Torn And Frayed," "Loving Cup"), and others were repurposed ("Rip this Joint", "Shake Your Hips", "Casino Boogie", "Happy", "Rocks Off", "Turd on the Run" and "Ventilator Blues"). Thus, despite the Nellcote mythology, Exile's legacy was as much a product of LA as it was France.

Rolling Stones - Torn And Frayed [Amazon]

Mick Jagger: lead vocals
Keith Richards: acoustic guitar, electric guitar, harmony vocals
Mick Taylor: bass
Charlie Watts: drums
Al Perkins: pedal steel guitar
Nicky Hopkins: piano
Jim Price: organ

"Torn And Frayed" is a ramshackle country-rock classic probably written with Keith Richards in mind. The protagonist is a restless gypsy guitar player battling a drug habit ... you do the math. While it might not be entirely fair to call Gram Parsons a "dressing room parasite," his influence looms large for both good and bad reasons. There's no question that GP's lonesome twang and love for classic country was a positive influence on Richards the musician. Hell, who doesn't want to get turned onto old George Jones songs? That's just common sense. But, both men spent much of their time together in the throes of drug addiction, which isn't nearly as interesting at it sounds. Within 18 months of Exile's release, Gram was dead from an accidental morphine overdose and Keith ceded much of his authority to Mick Jagger, whose work ethic saved the Stones, but transformed the pirate ship into a corporate discotheque. Thanks dope.

FLYING BURRITO BROTHERS

If there's a tangent to the Parsons-Richards friendship that's actually interesting ... and not just middle class romanticism ... it's pedal steel player, Al Perkins. He's the second best thing about "Torn And Frayed," after the Mick-and-Keith harmonies. Gram obviously agreed because it's Perkins' steel that keens up and down GP and Grievous Angel.

At the time of the "Torn And Frayed" sessions, Perkins was a member of two different bands, The Flying Burrito Brothers and Manassas, both of whom he joined at the behest of Gram's former bandmate (twice over), Chris Hillman. Like the Stones, these two bands spent 1972 releasing a sprawling vinyl document of American roots-rock: Last Of The Red Hot Burritos and Manassas.

And the connections deepen.

Flying Burrito Brothers - Christine's Tune (Devil In Disguise) [Amazon]
Flying Burrito Brothers - Dixie Breakdown [Amazon]
Flying Burrito Brothers - My Uncle [Amazon]

Chris Hillman: vocals, bass, mandolin *#
Rick Roberts: vocals, rhythm guitar
Al Perkins: pedal steel guitar #
Byron Berline: fiddle #&
Kenny Wertz: vocals, guitar, banjo &
Roger Bush: acoustic bass, vocal intro to "Dixie Breakdown" #&
Michael Clarke: drums *

* member of The Byrds
# member of Manassas
& member of Country Gazette

"I think the Flying Burrito Brothers with the right lineup and given more time could have been a strong influence, the Rick Roberts lineup. He was a very good singer and songwriter and Chris had songs to contribute. It might have been pretty interesting. That was, in my opinion, a real country-rock group."
--Al Perkins, in John Einarson's excellent Desperados: The Roots of Country Rock, p. 220
same as above

"During our live shows we would do a flat bluegrass section in the middle. Chris would play mandolin, Bernie (Leadon) would play banjo, and I'd play acoustic guitar, doing bluegrass stuff like 'I Am A Pilgrim.' When Bernie left, we brought in some really good bluegrass players (aka Country Gazette). Roger Bush had been with the Kentucky Colonels and Byron Berline was three-time national fiddle champion. That lasted about six months."
--Rick Roberts, Desperados: The Roots of Country Rock, p. 210
same as above

"We developed a great live act after all those years of being sloppy. The crowds would go crazy over (our) bluegrass set, and we'd do some hard rock and some country."
--Chris Hillman, Desperados: The Roots of Country Rock, p. 210

Listening to Last Of The Red Hot Burritos with fresh ears, I'm surprised it's not viewed more favorably. It moves seamlessly and credibly from full-tilt country-rock to bluegrass to rootsy blues-rock. Is it as transcendent as Gilded Palace Of Sin? Probably not. But, as the bookend to the original vision of the Parsons/Hillman Burritos, it should rightfully legitimize Chris Hillman as a bandleader and polygenre visionary equal to ... and in some ways surpassing ... Gram Parsons. That Red Hot is essentially ignored and Hillman often viewed as merely a GP sidekick is a gross historical injustice, hopefully rectified within Hillman's lifetime.

Incidentally, it was on the Burritos' Fall 1971 tour, amidst a four-night stand in Washington DC, that Roberts and Wertz stumbled into a coffeehouse called Clyde's. Performing was an unknown folksinger from Birmingham, Alabama, named Emmylou Harris. Within minutes, Hillman was called to bear witness. A few days later, in Baltimore, Gram followed suit. Suffice to say, lives changed.

Here are the Burritos at their 1971 peak:



MANASSAS

"We were doing the live album, Last Of The Red Hot Burritos, and playing weekend gigs. Chris, Al Perkins, and I would fly down to Miami (Jerry Wexler's Criterion Studios) on Sunday night and stay there until Thursday, recording the first Manassas album with Stephen."
--Rick Roberts, Desperados: The Roots of Country Rock, p. 219

"About the third trip down there (Miami) they had a little impromptu meeting and Stephen said he'd like to start a band with us. Chris and I were both offered the job in Stephen's band."
--Al Perkins, in John Einarson's excellent Desperados: The Roots of Country Rock, p. 219

Manassas - Don't Look At My Shadow [CD] [mp3]

Stephen Stills: acoustic lead guitar, lead vocals
Chris Hillman: mandolin, harmony vocals
Al Perkins: pedal steel guitar, prob vocals
Byron Berline: fiddle
Paul Harris: piano
Roger Bush: acoustic bass
Dallas Taylor: drums

"Shadow" is great for several reasons, not the least of which is that it directly anticipates Jerry Reed's "Eastbound And Down". Chalk one up for the Snowman. The tune also blends two distinct regional sub-genres: western swing and southern California bluegrass. The former shouldn't be too surprising, what with Stills' Texas roots, and his acoustic leads are more akin to a dancehall swing band than they are a bluegrass swing band, which is basically what Manassas (in this incarnation) was. Parenthetically speaking, were he not a gajillionaire rock star, Stephen Stills would've made a great honky-tonk frontman.

Byron Berline's consistent presence ties up several loose ends. Like Hillman ... let alone Clarence White, who is conspicuous by his absence ... Berline effortlessly bridged rock, country, and bluegrass. He played with Bill Monroe, recorded with the Stones ("Country Honk"), Byrds ("Tulsa County Blue," "You All Look Alike," and "Green Apple Quick Step"), and Dillard & Clark (Through The Morning, Through The Night), and was a founding member of bluegrass supergroup, Country Gazette. Like Peter Rowan and Roland White, Berline was a California immigrant whose resume serves as connective tissue connecting Nashvilles East and West. To wit:



COMING SOON: Clarence White 1972. Check it.

Lena Horne Still Sings Stormy Weather

Lena Horne at Cocoanut Grove in Los Angeles, 1956

This post originally appeared on Star Maker Machine, two weeks before the 2008 presidential election. Given the historical forces at play and SMM's theme that week (Civics Lessons), a dip into the Thelonious Monster catalog seemed appropriate. With yesterday's news that Lena Horne passed away at the age of 92, it seemed like a good time to revisit (and reshape) my initial offering. This is especially true given my subsequent move to Los Angeles, not to mention working for a time a few blocks away from the Tiny Naylor's location pictured below.

Thelonious Monster - Lena Horne Still Sings Stormy Weather

"They tore down Ships just like they tore down Tiny Naylor's
They'll tear down anything in this town
They'll do just about anything to squeeze an extra dime
They'll probably even sell their own grandmothers

One of Bob Forrest's finest moments as a songwriter and Thelonious Monster's finest moments as a band, "Lena Horne" is essentially a folk song done as rootsy punk rock. Forrest's songwriting triumph ... especially in the context of both Reagan/Bush and post-punk's golden age ... was in transcending a predictable vitriolic rant against "the system" to produce a compelling song of hope and belief.

Ah but Lena Horne still sings "Stormy Weather"
Yeah things, they're bad, but they could get better
Yeah things, they're bad, but they could get better
And I'm just waiting to see which way to go
Yeah, I'm just waiting to see which way to go

There's no reason for the protagonist to feel hope, especially against a backdrop of depressing and destructive forward-thinking materialism. After all, two of Los Angeles' most distinctive googie-style coffeehouses, Ships and Tiny Naylor's, were torn down because that's what Los Angeles ... and by extension, America, does. We don't preserve the village green. We raze it and open a Starbucks. We'll do just about anything to squeeze an extra dime, we'll probably even sell our own grandmothers.

They say Jesse Jackson will never be President
But yet, he's still the man I'd vote for
'Cause people everywhere, we're working our ass off
And can't even afford to pay our bills

And yet, the song's message remains one of perseverance. Forrest doesn't say things are bad and getting worse. He says things are bad, but they could get better. A vote for Jesse Jackson isn't a pointless and cynical gesture of protest, it's one man's emphatic endorsement in the machinery of democracy as a force for change.

Ah, Lena Horne's still singing "Stormy Weather"
Well things, they're bad, but they could get better
Well things, they're bad, but they could get better
And I'm just waiting to see which way to go
Yeah, I'm just waiting to see which way to go
And I'm hoping and a praying and a wishing and giving my all.

Maybe we are working our asses off and can't afford to pay our bills, maybe Tiny Naylor's was torn down (pictured above), and maybe there are people who'll sell their own grandmothers. But, that doesn't mean things can't get better. We just have to believe they can get better and hope and pray and wish and give it our all.

Giving All The Love You Can

"In those years, there weren't more than a half-dozen women headlining their own shows in country music. Every time one of us stood up for our rights she made a point for us all. We had our own 'liberation movement' going, but I don't think any of us were aware of it. I know I wasn't. All I wanted was the right to work in my chosen field and be treated with as much respect as the men who did the same job."

That's trailblazing country singer and mother of four, Tammy Wynette, from the marvelous Mary Bufwack/Robert Oermann tome, Finding Her Voice: The Illustrated History of Women in Country Music. Of the kerfuffle stirred up by "Stand By Your Man," she adds:

"I didn't sing the song to say, 'You women stay home and stay pregnant and don't do anything to help yourselves. Be there waiting when he comes home because a woman needs a man at any cost.' All I wanted to say in the song was, 'Be understanding. Be supportive.'"

Tammy's big break came in 1966, when she met producer/songwriter, Billy Sherrill, in Nashville. According to Music City lore, Tammy walked into Sherrill's office and said pointedly, "My name is Wynette Byrd (her husband at the time was the winsomely named, Euple Byrd) and I've recently moved here from Birmingham (Alabama). I want a recording contract." Balls ... and with Adios Lounge-appropriate Byrd and Birmingham references. I'm sure that's just coincidence.

Buy Finding Her Voice

We'll See Who Comes Out a Winner

"You put your money on yours and I'll bet on mine,
We'll let the score be kept by nature and time,
And we'll see who comes out a winner at the finishing line."

Time for some Sunday morning, post-Derby testimonial. You want a stairway to heaven? Step off that Zeppelin shit and come correct with Birmingham native Dorothy Love Coates and her Original Gospel Harmonettes. This is a woman so powerful she made Little Richard shut up and take notes in the early 1950s. I love her "Don't F with me" face on both the screen capture above and at the :52-:54 mark. Bold.

From the same 1968 performance, here's "I'm Just Holding On." Thanks to Elliott McPherson of the Dexateens for linking to this on his Facebook page and kickstarting this AM's glorious DLC run.