Posts Tagged ‘1982’

(As noted in my first Essentials entry, this is an occasional series in which I spotlight albums that, in my estimation, everyone should experience at least once.)

Most fans know – or should know – the story behind Crosby, Stills & Nash’s Daylight Again album, which was released on June 21, 1982: It began life in 1980 as a collaboration between Stephen Stills and Graham Nash. The two had performed together at a political benefit in Hawaii and enjoyed themselves so much that they decided to try their luck as a duo.

At about the same time, erstwhile comrade David Crosby was recording his own album; but Capitol Records, his label home, was underwhelmed by what he turned in. According to Dave Zimmer’s Crosby, Stills & Nash: The Biography, the album included wordless jams and – in the label’s estimation – no marketable single. Crosby says that “[t]hey didn’t like it. They felt it wasn’t rock ’n’ roll enough, wasn’t like Devo or Elvis Costello.”

Stills and Nash’s project was rejected by Atlantic Records, too, though for different reasons. Although the songs were strong, and vocalists Timothy B. Schmidt (of Poco and the Eagles) and Art Garfunkel had helped round out the vocal sound, the label feared few fans would buy a Stills-Nash LP. In the Zimmer bio, Nash explains that Atlantic “wanted a Crosby, Stills & Nash album. They knew that as a combination, CSN would sell more than anything me and Stephen might have together.” And “sell” is something Stills and Nash needed the album to do: They had funded the project themselves and were some $400,000 in the hole. 

Nash also says that, as he thought it through, the more he agreed with Atlantic: “I started to miss [Crosby]. I missed his vocal quality. I missed his unique musical contributions. And I missed David as a person.”

Once Crosby came on board, the project turned into something of a jigsaw puzzle, with the threesome figuring out how to fit Crosby into a nearly complete picture. In some instances, such as “Southern Cross” and the title cut, the decision was made to leave him off. The songs were perfect as-is.

The genesis of “Southern Cross” is interesting. Stills’ manager played him a never-released song by the Curtis Brothers called “Seven League Boots”; he liked what he heard, but thought it could be better. He reached out, received permission to tinker with it, and before long a truly wondrous song was born. (For more on that, read this entry on the Disc Makers blog.)

In addition to figuring out where to fit Crosby’s harmonies, the re-formed trio had to decide which of Crosby’s solo tracks would work on “the album that wouldn’t die,” as some of those involved called it. The ethereal “Delta” was an obvious choice; Stills and Nash added some harmonies, but with or without their contributions the song was and is a stunning musical epiphany. 

Nash, too, has his moments, most notably on “Wasted on the Way,” in which he laments the time he and his pals had wasted through the years. The genius of the song, however, is that the lyrics apply to you and me, too. Everyone, at some point in their life’s journey, looks back with regret about missing out on something.

Anyway, although the album was released in 1982, I didn’t discover it until January 6th, 1984. (I can say so with certainty thanks to my desktop calendar.) In my Essentials piece on the Pretenders’ Learning to Crawl (which I bought 11 days later), I mentioned that much of the music entering my collection in late 1983 and early 1984, when I was an 18-year-old college freshman living the commuter-college life, stemmed from previous generations. The albums included a slew of Neil Young releases, including Times Fades Away, American Stars ’n’ Bars and Comes a Time, as well as Deja Vu, the album he released in 1970 with Crosby, Stills & Nash.

I’d love to say Deja Vu , which I acquired in November, immediately won me over. It didn’t.

Mind you, I owned the Woodstock album and – if memory serves – had watched the concert documentary a time or two on Prism, a premium cable channel native to the Philadelphia area. I liked and loved a fair bit of ‘60s music, and often joked that I’d come of age in the wrong decade. Overall, however, rock critic Dave Marsh’s brutal assessment of CSN in the 1983 Rolling Stone Record Guide was enough for me: “Limpid ‘adult bubblegum’ rockers.” Or, as Neil himself called them in “Thrasher” on his classic Rust Never Sleeps, “dead weight.”

I should back up, just for a moment: Living the commuter-college life sans a car, which wouldn’t come for a few more months, wasn’t easy. One bus from Hatboro to the mall in Willow Grove. A second bus to Abington. And then a 10-minute hike to campus. Such was my life. I slipped the headphones of my Walkman clone over my ears, and lost myself in music. The return home, however, was much easier: Any of several friends usually gave me a lift.

It was during just such a journey home one December day – just a few weeks after buying Deja Vu – that the melody of “Southern Cross” slinked from the tinny car’s speakers like a purring Persian cat and wrapping its paws – claws kneading – around my heart. The song’s chorus, an unabashed cry of an unfulfilled romantic, appealed to me, too. That same week, I picked up the live Allies album – by mistake. And while the bulk of it was so-so, the two studio tracks, “War Games” and “Raise a Voice,” were quite good. A week later I came home with Daylight Again; and by the time I left the commuter-college life for the Penn State mothership in the fall of ’85, it had become one of my favorite albums.

In the decades since, I’ve come to hear it as a solid – but not spectacular – album that possesses glimmers of greatness, notably “Delta” and “Southern Cross.” Stills pretty much dominates the proceedings (six of the 11 tracks are his), with the bluesy opener “Turn Your Back on Love” and one-two punch of “Since I Met You” and “Too Much Love to Hide” being additional highlights.

I should add that the album didn’t receive stellar reviews at the time or at any time in the years since, really, aside from some fans. Rolling Stone’s Stephen Holden, for example, wrote that “[t]heir voices, drifting on little watercolored islands toward a misty shore of meaninglessness, evoke a kind of perfection. For the blend is more powerful than any tune it attempts or any lyric it essays. The blend simply floats….”

From where I sit, the main drawback is this: It’s less a CSN album and more a Stills, Nash and Friends set.

The track listing:

August 4th, 1982, a Wednesday, was a good summer’s day, weather-wise, in the Delaware Valley. The high topped out at 89, while the overnight low was 69. In the headlines: Israeli tanks rolled into Beirut in an ongoing attempt to expel the PLO from southern Lebanon. The incursion began two months earlier, and had already caused many PLO fighters – including leader Yassir Arafat – to flee to such locales as Tunisia.

In less incendiary news, young Prince William was christened.

Closer to home, in Philadelphia: Two men suspected of murdering alleged mobster hitman Salvatore Testa failed to show for a hearing.

Even closer to home: Fifth Avenue was coming to Willow Grove! Legendary Fifth Avenue retailer B. Altman & Co. was opening a branch at the brand-new Willow Grove Park Mall, which wasn’t scheduled to open for another week. (B. Altman is perhaps best known, these days, as the one-time employer of Midge Maisel.) Here’s the ad from this day’s Philadelphia Inquirer:

Back then, the Willow Grove Park Mall was a planned high-end retail locale, with its anchors consisting of B. Altman & Co., Bloomingdale’s and Abraham & Straus department stores. It was shiny, bright, large and pricy, and out-of-step with the economic times. Unemployment for the year averaged 9.7 percent across the nation, and August was a notch above that. (See this entry on December 1982 for more.) In Pennsylvania, however, it was even higher: 11.4 percent.

Entertainment-wise, the summer’s movie scene was somewhat…eh. The Pirate Movie was scheduled to be released on Friday – and, yes, I saw it in the coming month. It was, in two words, not good. Don’t believe me? Check out the trailer:

And here’s the Inky’s TV schedule for the night:

Even closer to home: I was 17, and soon to start my senior year of high school. More to the point for this post: I purchased four albums during August’s 31 days.

Tracking such things was a haphazard thing I did up until this very month, when I began listing every addition to my collection in a month-in-review notation. By year’s end, however, I was jotting down every purchase on the day itself.

And, with that, here’s today’s Top 5: August 1982 (via my Desk Diary).

1) Blondie – The Best of Blondie was almost a year old by the time I picked it up, but that’s neither here nor there. It was, and remains, a great best-of – as the cliche goes, it’s all killer, no filler. “Dreaming,” which hails from their 1979 Eat to the Beat album (which I owned), remains my favorite song of theirs. I’ve showcased it before, of course… but so what? Here it is again:

2) Joan Jett & the Blackhearts – I Love Rock & Roll is one of my “essential” albums – an LP, CD, or download that belongs in everyone’s collection. I already owned it, as I picked it up the previous November, but needed this for completist reasons. As most fans know (or should know), it originally included her cover of “Little Drummer Boy,” which was then replaced with “Oh Woe Is Me” after the holiday season. Although that was the b-side on the “Crimson & Clover” 45, I wanted it on LP, too. So I basically spent $7.41 (the equivalent of $25.87 today) for one song that I already owned! Anyway, that the original “I Love Rock & Roll” video isn’t on YouTube is one of life’s oddities, so here’s a clip from Top of the Pops:

3) Big Brother and the Holding Company – Cheap Thrills is a raw, ragged and sloppy, and great. Here’s one of its key tracks, “Ball and Chain.” 

4) Don Henley – I Can’t Stand Still. Henley’s solo debut was released on August 16th of this month. “Talking to the Moon” is a gem that would’ve been at home on any Eagles album.

5) Kim Wilde – “Kids in America.” Although Kim’s self-titled debut was released in the U.K. in June 1981, it didn’t land on these shores until April of ’82; and I wouldn’t buy it until September ’82 – I’m including it here because of the month’s limited purchases. It’s a good-great album, and the title tune remains as relevant as ever.

(FYI: The newspaper clippings are from the day’s Philadelphia Daily News and Philadelphia Inquirer.)

IMG_0896By December 1982, when this issue arrived in my mailbox, America was suffering the worst economic downturn since the Great Depression. The unemployment rate, which had been inching upwards since before Ronald Reagan took office in January 1981, accelerated that fall, and clocked in at an astounding 10.8 percent for the month. As this Bureau of Labor Statistics report documents. “the sharpest job cutbacks took place in the goods-producing sector“ and “every major manufacturing industry registered some decrease.”

Times were tough, in other words, and getting tougher.

But you wouldn’t have known it by me. I was 17, a high-school senior and, this month, spending money like there was no tomorrow. First, though: for Christmas, I received – among other things – a Sanyo Mini AM/FM Stereo Radio Cassette Recorder (aka, a mini boombox) and the new Bob Seger album, The Distance.

The only problem: I had few cassettes. Thus, I dipped into my birthday and Christmas cash and, between Christmas and New Year’s, picked up the tapes for Neil Young’s Rust Never Sleeps, Zuma, Tonight’s the Night, After the Gold Rush and Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere; Pete Townshend’s Empty Glass; and Lou Reed’s Rock ’n’ Roll Animal and Berlin. I also joined the RCA Music Club and ordered Glenn Frey’s No Fun Aloud, The Eagles’ Live, Fleetwood Mac’s Tusk, Stevie Nicks’ Bella Donna, Pete Townshend’s All the Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes and Led Zeppelin’s Physical Graffiti on cassette. Two other albums that I bought, on vinyl, early in the month: the Velvet Underground and Nico and the VU Once Upon a Time two-LP collection.

The spending didn’t stop there, either. I took in a few movies, too: 48 Hours, An Officer and a Gentleman, Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Ciao! Manhattan.

48 Hours, which I saw at the now-defunct Eric Theater at the Village Mall in Horsham, was simply bizarre. The projectionist must’ve left the booth, as the theater snapped into darkness after the first reel for a good 20 minutes. We, a sparse afternoon audience, just sat there, eyes on the white screen, waiting…and waiting…and chomping popcorn. When the movie finally did kick in again, it was the third reel – so I never knew what transpired in the film’s second 20 minutes for the longest time.

Ciao! Manhattan, of course, is a somewhat arty film, which meant I took the train into Philly and walked from Reading Terminal to South Street, where it was playing at the TLA. The late Edie Sedgwick, who starred in it, had fascinated me since I’d read Jean Stein’s Edie: An American Biography earlier in the year. (The New York Times’ review of that book is here.) This may blow some people’s minds, but it was my fascination with Edie that led me to check out the Velvet Underground and, shortly thereafter, Lou Reed, as they were all part of Warhol’s Factory scene during the mid-‘60s.

 

Anyway, to the matter at hand: the Who grace the cover of this particular issue; they’d released It’s Hard in September and were in the midst of what they said was their final tour. Also mentioned on the cover: Jefferson Starship, Men at Work, Miami Steve, Jimmy Page, the Pretenders, ABC, Joan Jett and the Blasters.

Of all those names, the one that most excited me was Joan Jett…but there was no Joan Jett article inside! Oh, Dave Marsh, in his “American Grandstand” column, lambasted Jett consigliere Kenny Laguna for his role in the Bow Wow Wow “Louie Louie” ripoff “Louis Quatorze” – but that was it. No other mention.

Today’s Top 5:

IMG_09021) The Who – “Eminence Front.” Pete Townshend, says writer Jonathan Gross, “looks kind of ‘slip kid,’ thanks to a new, tousled, boyish coif and a lean year off booze and drugs. Rehabilitation has soothed his complexion and brought out the blue in his sad hound-dog eyes.” Townshend comes off somewhat obtuse: “What we’re doing is…what we’re saying…what we must do…keep everything that we’ve done and everything we represent and everything we stand for alone and solid so that it will remain a solid traditional pillar in rock which will always be a barometer.”

IMG_0898He’s more his sharp-edged self in a letter to the editor, chiding Dave Marsh for taking the Who to task for their sponsorship deal with Schlitz Beer in his October “American Grandstand” column: “To end his crass little ‘expose’ with an inference that the Who are now motivated only be greed indicates that this ace rock parasite, now working on a book about the Who, is taking leave of his senses.” Later, after reminding all of the weight the Who name carries, he notes that “Marsh is writing a book about us and not about the equally worthy Keith Jarrett or Tom Waits, Schlitz is using our concert tour as a way of keeping their name before the public. In a sense, they have been just as good to us in their patronage as Marsh has been in the past. They gave me this typewriter by the way; it has a memory erase section. Maybe Marsh should get one. If I was forced to choose between the two levels of exploitation—Marsh or Schlitz—I would think twice about having my life dredged over again by a critic and take the beer. Or at least the price of the beer.”

All that said – It’s Hard isn’t the first album any Who fan is going to reach for – it would likely be one of the last. Though Townshend, as evidenced by his Chinese Eyes set, was still capable of delivering the goods on his own, post-Moon he missed the mark when writing for the band. Perhaps that’s why “Eminence Front” was the set’s best song…he’s up front.

IMG_09052) The Pretenders – “My City Was Gone.” There’s a brief article by Suzanne Whatley on Chrissie Hynde and Martin Chambers, who were seeking permanent replacements for the late James Honeyman-Scott, who o.d.ed, and Pete Farndon, who – according to the article – split from the band after Honeyman-Scott’s death in June 1982. (He o.d.ed himself in April 1983.) The article states that “Hynde and Chambers cut a single, ‘Back on the Chain Gang,’ which has been released in England on the Real label. Accompanying the two Pretenders in the studio were guitarist Billy Bremner, late of Rockpile, and bassist Tony Butler, who played on Pete Townshend’s Chinese Eyes LP.”

Whatley adds that “[t]he B-side of ‘Chain Gang’  proves to be one of Hynde’s more interesting compositions. Titled ‘My City Was Gone,’ the autobiographical account of the singer’s return to her native Ohio finds Hynde surveying the overbuilt and now-unfamiliar terrain while weighing her memories with quiet, revealing despair.”

IMG_09033) Little Steven and the Disciples of Soul – “Men Without Women.” Wayne King reviews longtime Springsteen sideman Steven Van Zandt’s debut LP, of which this is the title tune. Van Zandt’s vocal, he says, “evokes the nasal pitch of Keith Richards”; and the album, at a whole, “is a profound, deeply-felt statement of belief in the transcendent capacity of rock ’n’ roll; its joyful noise should inspire those who listen as greatly as it does those who create.”

IMG_09044) R.E.M. – “Gardening at Night.” Nick Burton tackles the debut EP of this new band from Athens, Ga.: “If you can imagine a cross between the Strawberry Alarm Clock and the Jam, you’ll have a good idea of R.E.M.’s strange but effective hybrid approach. Chronic Town, a five-track EP, was produced on a garage band budget, and the resulting trashy sound makes for a striking aural backdrop.”

Burton wraps things up with: “It would be nice to add that R.E.M.’s lyrics match their musical sparkle, but Michael Stipe’s vocals are pushed so far back in the mix that it’s difficult to understand exactly what he’s singing about. I’ve listened to this record countless times, and I still don’t know if the songs deal with moody introspection or disco roller skating. But Chronic Town is worth checking out, if only for the music. Unlike so many EPs, this one’s consistently fascinating.”

IMG_09075) Joan Jett & the Blackhearts – “Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh Yeah).” Hey, no mention beyond the cover isn’t going to stop me from featuring the former Runaway when given the chance. Who else could I go with? Jefferson Starship, who by this point had devolved into an ordinary arena-rock band? Why bother? So, here’s Joan from October 1983 performing a Gary Glitter song that she recorded for her pre-I Love Rock ’n’ Roll album, Bad Reputation, which was given a big push after the success of her sophomore effort.

IMG_0795This issue, the third in the magazine’s history, marks the start of my half-decade-long subscription to Record. You’ll notice, on the cover, that the date is listed as “Jan. 1981.” That’s incorrect, as becomes evident once one unfolds it to its newspaper-size front page, where the date is listed as “Jan. 1982.” It wasn’t the only flub the magazine made during its run. One issue, and I’ll likely feature it in the coming weeks, lists Joan Jett on the cover, but includes nada thing about the former Runaway inside.

Rod Stewart’s mug, obviously, graces the cover. I wasn’t a fan of his then, and am still not a fan – though I did see him in concert once, on a very muggy summer’s night at Hershey Stadium in ’88 or ’89. In the accompanying interview, he says about his late-‘70s work: “I probably deserve all the criticism I got. I was listening to Britt Ekland, having stupid album covers done. But we’re allowed to make mistakes, and I think I’ve come through the other end of the tunnel. I just let the image run away with itself, posing all the time.”

IMG_0796The issue does have a few cool articles, however, including one by David McGee about legendary producer Bob Ezrin. Ezrin explains that “[t]here are certain philosophies behind what I do in terms of how I construct a record and where I think things belong. Part of my style might be that I don’t believe in stereo drums. You know why? Because if you sit back listening to a record you will automatically think of a live performance in front of your face somewhere. And when you hear a guitar player who’s far left, and a guitar player who’s far right, and a bass player who’s in the center and a singer who’s in the middle and you have a drummer who’s in the center too but he’s got one tom-tom 20 feet out to the side and the other 20 feet out in the other direction, the only way for that guy to play that kit is to run real fast from one side of the stage to the other, right? I think that’s psycho-acoustically disturbing.”

There’s also a piece about the new wave in music videos: concept videos. Other articles focus on Foreigner, Molly Hatchet and the Rolling Stones, who’d just wrapped a major tour.

And, with that, here’s today’s Top 5:

IMG_07991) David Bowie – “Cat People (Putting Out Fire).” There’s this, on page 6: “Director Paul Shrader and composer-producer Giorgio Moroder…have enlisted David Bowie to write lyrics and sing the title song for Shrader’s remake of the 1942 horror classic, Cat People.” Skip down a few paragraphs and… “Although he hasn’t heard Bowie’s lyrics yet, Shrader says the artist described the song to him as ‘very Doors-like, Jim Morrison and all that,’  which jibes well with Moroder’s plan to use ‘strange noises and a kind of low note which keeps the tension throughout the film.”

IMG_08022) Garland Jeffreys – “R.O.C.K.” The song comes from Garland’s 1981 Escape Artist album, as well as his live Rock ’n Roll Adult LP from the same year. He’s the focus of a short report that reads: “Garland Jeffreys continues to confound the savants. At a time when touring has soured for most bands, he’s drawing crowds in areas where he’s never had a track record of serious album sales. Now he’s planning to test the international arena with a world tour in 1982. ‘Come this time next year,’ he asserts, ‘you’ll know where I’ll be—on the road. And I’m enjoying it because I’m getting what I want—I put out a record and I tour around it.’” He also had an MTV special lined up; was planning a new album; and was “in the process of fulfilling his ’35-millimeter dreams’ by writing music for a new film titled The Breaks, which tentatively costars Jeffreys and Harvey Keitel.”

IMG_08073) Garland Jeffreys – “96 Tears.” Garland is also mentioned in one of the articles about the Rolling Stones’ tour, as he opened for Mick & the Boys in Hartford. “Although Garland Jeffreys had been set to open the Brendan Byrne Arena shows, a scheduling foul-up within the Stones organization resulted in his dates being shifted to Hartford. Nevertheless, when all was said and done, Jeffreys found it an exhilarating experience. ‘When it came down to the show in Hartford, the Stones and their crew treated us wonderfully. Mick, Charlie, and Bill came backstage to greet us…I was very moved.’”

So, though I rarely indulge in twin spins, the double mention deserves a double-shot. As with the first clip, here’s Garland on the ABC late-night sketch-comedy show Fridays.

IMG_08064) Neil Young – “Shots.” re*ac*tor receives a negative review from Wayne King, who writes: “What saves the record is the last song, ‘Shots,’ the kind of song Young always comes up with when he needs it. Car horns and exploding amplifiers become the shots, ‘ringing all along the border’ of the nightmare world that Young transports us to with his best material. It’s probably appropriate that the song’s best line points up why so much of Reactor is a failure: ‘lust comes creeping in/through the night/to feed on hearts.’ If Young had focused less on the objects that move people, and more on the emotions that drive them, he might have made a great record.”

I think I’ve written this before on this blog, but if I haven’t: re*ac*tor was the first Neil album I purchased; and I liked it enough to name it my Album of the Year for 1981. Of course, I was 16 and heard music in a different way than, say, I do today. In retrospect, I wouldn’t choose it for top honors – that would go to my No. 2 that year, Beauty and the Beat by the Go-Go’s. But, while re*ac*tor isn’t a great album, per se, it does possess some truly stupendous moments, such as “Southern Pacific,” “Rapid Transit” and, as Mr. King mentions, “Shots.”

IMG_08105) Elvis Costello – “A Good Year for the Roses.” Another album reviewed by Wayne King is Elvis’ country outing, Almost Blue: “Elvis, known to be a bit of a wise guy on his own, doesn’t sound too convincing on a track like ‘Tonight the Bottle Let Me Down,’ and, hell, I don’t think he’s much of a drinker, either. Right there is the dilemma Almost Blue never resolves: imagine this punning, paranoid Britisher as a good ol’ Southern boy. That would require a leap of faith that the music won’t let you make.”

I’ve written before about this song, and shared this same video, but – hey, unlike Mr. King, I find the album extremely listenable and likable. Maybe not Elvis’ best, but definitely worth a spin.

And… one bonus:  the Go-Go’s – “Lust to Love.” As Record’s list shows, Belinda & Band opened for the Stones in Rockford. There’s no mention of them in the article, though. One wonders how they were received – hopefully well, as they were a punky bunch. Here they are in December ’81: