Podcasts about travelling wilburys

When George Harrison died, I helped move a friend from her flat in Elizabeth St to her new place then in Tasman St. From Mt Vic to Mt Cook sounds like the title to a down-scaling book but this was just how it was back in 2001. We scrubbed the walls to get the smoke stains off from where the pictures had been and all the while the radio was playing Beatles songs.I was on the heavy lifting, helping the removal men when they arrived. I was lifting tables and chairs, computer desks and various things down the alleyway to the street front. It was baking hot; I'd played a gig the night before and stayed up late drinking whatever was in the house as a toast to the Quiet Beatle. My hangover was getting a workout.The removal truck arrived, driven by the world's rudest man. He was instantly a caricature. Loud and dumb and full of himself. And his truck was in the middle of the street – a one-way road. He figured everyone could wait because he was on a paid job. And when he did, grudgingly, move the truck, he backed it into someone's car. A neighbour popped his head in to say he'd seen what happened. The moving man stuck his neck out to tell the man to forget what he saw if he wanted to keep all his fingers. Then there was a car of women beeping. Beeping. Trying to tell this man to move.I was head-down and just bringing out the loads of stuff. But I said, at one point, that maybe he ought to move his truck. He laughed maniacally and then went to meet the women in the car. He bent down, leaned in and hoiked a giant spit right into the face of the driver. His co-worker laughed, then corrected himself, shook his head, was mortified. And he asked the lunatic, “why did you do that?”The meathead replied that it was the “the dirtiest thing I could think to do”.The radio belted out I Me Mine and Here Comes The Sun and Taxman and While My Guitar Gently Weeps. All those great George Harrison-penned Beatles songs. We heard a few of the solo gems too – obviously My Sweet Lord and All Those Years Ago, that cover of Got My Mind Set on You and a Travelling Wilburys song – or two.But this was the end of the line. A guy spat in a woman's face because he couldn't be bothered to move his truck. Because he was sure that he was the boss. Because he knew that he was large – and if not in charge he was still the king. At least of anything that mattered in his world. We were mortified. Horrified. We were stunned to silence – and didn't feel good about that.We had a story. A weird story. And it's one we'll always have. Me and the friend I helped move that day…were married a few years on, we've moved houses a handful of times since that occasion. We've streamlined all we can but the mess continues to grow, the stuff we don't need builds up around us. And we have a son now that wants to know any story about The Beatles that we can think of.One day, he can read this. And make of it what he will.Sounds Good! is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

Hoy hace 80 años nació George Harrison. DISCO 1 GEORGE HARRISON GreeceDISCO 2 GEORGE HARRISON Here Comes The Sun (Live) DISCO 3 GEORGE HARRISON My Sweet LordDISCO 4 GEORGE HARRISON Give Me Love (Give Peace O Earth) DISCO 5 GEORGE HARRISON Ding Dong, Ding DongDISCO 6 GEORGE HARRISON YouDISCO 7 GEORGE HARRISON Crackerbox PalaceDISCO 8 GEORGE HARRISON Blow AwayDISCO 9 GEORGE HARRISON All Those Years AgoDISCO 10 GEORGE HARRISON Cockamamie BusinessDISCO 11 GEORGE HARRISON If Not For YouDISCO 12 THE TRAVELLING WILBURYS Handle With CareDISCO 13 GEORGE HARRISON Got My Mind Set On YouDISCO 14 GEORGE HARRISON Cowboy MusicEscuchar audio

Thousands of words have been written about Bob Dylan's influence on the Beatles. Despite all those words, one need look no further than "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away" from the Help! album. Taking the folk trademark of heavily strummed 6 and 12 string acoustic and nylon string guitars, minimal instrumentation, the song finds John delivering (up to this point) one of his most introspective lyrics with a brilliantly intimate and weary vocal performance. The arrangement is mature and subtle, never taking the focus off the lyric. It's real "3 chords and the truth" stuff, and it's fantastic. Joining us this week is the legendary Steven Page! Steven made a name for himself as lead singer and co-founder of Barenaked Ladies before embarking on seriously busy solo career. His 2022 album Excelsior! is fantastic, as his the debut from his Canadian version of the Travelling Wilburys, the Trans-Canada Highwaymen. Check it all out at stevenpage.com What do you think of You've Got To Hide Your Love Away at #83? Too high? Too low? Let us know in the comments on ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Facebook⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, or ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Twitter⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠! Be sure to check out ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.rankingthebeatles.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ and grab a Rank Your Own Beatles poster, some of our new Revolver-themed merch, a shirt, a jumper, whatever you like! And if you're digging what we do, don't forget to ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Buy Us A Coffee⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠! --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/rankingthebeatles/support

Esta semana dedicamos la tertulia a los supergrupos, esas bandas creadas por varios músicos procedentes de otras formaciones de éxito que desde los mediados de los años 60 ha ido apareciendo y desapareciendo periódicamente en escena. Por eso hoy nos preguntamos: ¿Por qué nunca funcionan los supergrupos? Junto a nuestros colaboradores Lluís Puebla y Gonzalo Puebla debatimos sobre A Perfect Circle, The Travelling Wilburys, Me First And The Gimme Gimmes o Velvet Revolver, entre otros. Y como siempre también hacemos un repaso a algunas noticias destacadas de la semana, la agenda de conciertos, los charts, y al final, las recomendaciones de Oído, Visto, Leído. Enjoy!

And we're free... Free Fallin' into another album this week with Tom Petty's most successful record Full Moon Fever! It was released as a solo project in 1989 at the height of his popularity and workload, and contains a handful of his greatest hits. We'll learn about the movie star encounter that sent him Runnin' Down A Dream, and cover everything from his petty (pun intended) squabbles with record labels to his time with The Travelling Wilburys (and, of course, The Heartbreakers). The Mixtaper shares how he got burnt out on tires, foiled foo, and met Bobby Hill during Fact Or Spin. From attempted arson to Grand Theft Auto VI trailers this episode is a Long Road, and we Won't Back Down. Just be prepared to ask for forgiveness.0:00 Intro2:07 About Tom Petty12:50 About Full Moon Fever16:16 Awards & Accolades18:36 Fact Or Spin21:28 He Incepted A Song23:23 He Hates Tire Companies29:04 He Was Lucky33:58 He's A Friend Of The Postman38:05 He Almost Prevented Earth's Mightiest Defenders42:27 Album Art43:39 Free Fallin'51:39 I Won't Back Down55:42 Love Is A Long Road58:50 A Face In The Crowd1:00:12 Runnin' Down A Dream1:02:34 Attention, CD Listeners...1:03:58 Feel A Whole Lot Better1:06:05 Yer So Bad1:08:42 Depending On You1:09:46 The Apartment Song1:10:45 Alright For Now1:12:04 A Mind With A Heart Of Its Own1:15:02 Zombie Zoo1:16:40 Final Spin Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

David Leland, écrivain, réalisateur et acteur qui a travaillé avec George Harrison, Paul McCartney et les Travelling Wilburys est décédé, la veille de Noël, à l'âge de 82 ans. Une vidéo inédite de Led Zeppelin au Pontiac Silverdome dans le Michigan a été mise en ligne, concert donné le 30 avril 1977 devant 76.200 personnes, un record mondial à l'époque. Elton John aurait terminé un nouvel album avec Brandi Carlile, info qui vient de Pete Townshend des Who, ami proche du chanteur depuis plus de 50 ans maintenant. Sharon Osbourne, l'épouse de Ozzy Osbourne se dit prête à relancer le Ozzfest mais pas simplement en une édition mais bien dans une version tournée itinérante. Lors de l'émission de Nouvel an de la CNN avec Andy Cohen et Anderson Cooper, John Mayer est apparu depuis Cats in the Box, un bar à chats situé à Tokyo. Billy Corgan, la voix des Smashing Pumpkins a offert un concert un peu bizarre pour le Nouvel An lors de l'émission "A Very Chicago New Year" diffusée par NBC Chicago. Mots-Clés : Summertime, hiver, Wizzo the Wizard, salon de thé, Madame Zuzu's, smoking, Sphere, Las Vegas formation, acteur, mise en scène, Pierce Brosnan, scène, Tom Petty, Grammy, Award, documentaire, Concert For George, film, concert, Royal Albert Hall, télévision, cinéma, YouTube, Jim Kelly, Speedy, photographe, professionnel, Van Halen, Alice Cooper, Yes, Queen, Rush, Pink Floyd, format digital, Genesis Museum, production, stade des Dodgers, Rob Zombie, Marilyn Manson, Jonathan Davis de Korn, Body Count. --- Classic 21 vous informe des dernières actualités du rock, en Belgique et partout ailleurs. Le Journal du Rock, chaque jour à 7h30 et 18h30. Merci pour votre écoute Pour écouter Classic 21 à tout moment : www.rtbf.be/classic21 Retrouvez tous les contenus de la RTBF sur notre plateforme Auvio.be Et si vous avez apprécié ce podcast, n'hésitez pas à nous donner des étoiles ou des commentaires, cela nous aide à le faire connaître plus largement.

2023 kan en oavgjord match kännas som en förlust. Som terapisamtal för att hantera besvikelsen diskuteras Travelling Wilburys, defensiva motståndare och en jinxande Olle Larsson. Lyssna på avsnittet här.

Episode 165 of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “Dark Stat” and the career of the Grateful Dead. This is a long one, even longer than the previous episode, but don't worry, that won't be the norm. There's a reason these two were much longer than average. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a twenty-minute bonus episode available, on "Codine" by the Charlatans. Errata I mispronounce Brent Mydland's name as Myland a couple of times, and in the introduction I say "Touch of Grey" came out in 1988 -- I later, correctly, say 1987. (I seem to have had a real problem with dates in the intro -- I also originally talked about "Blue Suede Shoes" being in 1954 before fixing it in the edit to be 1956) Resources No Mixcloud this week, as there are too many songs by the Grateful Dead, and Grayfolded runs to two hours. I referred to a lot of books for this episode, partly because almost everything about the Grateful Dead is written from a fannish perspective that already assumes background knowledge, rather than to provide that background knowledge. Of the various books I used, Dennis McNally's biography of the band and This Is All a Dream We Dreamed: An Oral History of the Grateful Dead by Blair Jackson and David Gans are probably most useful for the casually interested. Other books on the Dead I used included McNally's Jerry on Jerry, a collection of interviews with Garcia; Deal, Bill Kreutzmann's autobiography; The Grateful Dead FAQ by Tony Sclafani; So Many Roads by David Browne; Deadology by Howard F. Weiner; Fare Thee Well by Joel Selvin and Pamela Turley; and Skeleton Key: A Dictionary for Deadheads by David Shenk and Steve Silberman. Tom Wolfe's The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test is the classic account of the Pranksters, though not always reliable. I reference Slaughterhouse Five a lot. As well as the novel itself, which everyone should read, I also read this rather excellent graphic novel adaptation, and The Writer's Crusade, a book about the writing of the novel. I also reference Ted Sturgeon's More Than Human. For background on the scene around Astounding Science Fiction which included Sturgeon, John W. Campbell, L. Ron Hubbard, and many other science fiction writers, I recommend Alec Nevala-Lee's Astounding. 1,000 True Fans can be read online, as can the essay on the Californian ideology, and John Perry Barlow's "Declaration of the Independence of Cyberspace". The best collection of Grateful Dead material is the box set The Golden Road, which contains all the albums released in Pigpen's lifetime along with a lot of bonus material, but which appears currently out of print. Live/Dead contains both the live version of "Dark Star" which made it well known and, as a CD bonus track, the original single version. And archive.org has more live recordings of the group than you can possibly ever listen to. Grayfolded can be bought from John Oswald's Bandcamp Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript [Excerpt: Tuning from "Grayfolded", under the warnings Before we begin -- as we're tuning up, as it were, I should mention that this episode contains discussions of alcoholism, drug addiction, racism, nonconsensual drugging of other people, and deaths from drug abuse, suicide, and car accidents. As always, I try to deal with these subjects as carefully as possible, but if you find any of those things upsetting you may wish to read the transcript rather than listen to this episode, or skip it altogether. Also, I should note that the members of the Grateful Dead were much freer with their use of swearing in interviews than any other band we've covered so far, and that makes using quotes from them rather more difficult than with other bands, given the limitations of the rules imposed to stop the podcast being marked as adult. If I quote anything with a word I can't use here, I'll give a brief pause in the audio, and in the transcript I'll have the word in square brackets. [tuning ends] All this happened, more or less. In 1910, T. S. Eliot started work on "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock", which at the time was deemed barely poetry, with one reviewer imagining Eliot saying "I'll just put down the first thing that comes into my head, and call it 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.'" It is now considered one of the great classics of modernist literature. In 1969, Kurt Vonnegut wrote "Slaughterhouse-Five, or, The Children's Crusade: A Duty-Dance with Death", a book in which the protagonist, Billy Pilgrim, comes unstuck in time, and starts living a nonlinear life, hopping around between times reliving his experiences in the Second World War, and future experiences up to 1976 after being kidnapped by beings from the planet Tralfamadore. Or perhaps he has flashbacks and hallucinations after having a breakdown from PTSD. It is now considered one of the great classics of modernist literature or of science fiction, depending on how you look at it. In 1953, Theodore Sturgeon wrote More Than Human. It is now considered one of the great classics of science fiction. In 1950, L. Ron Hubbard wrote Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health. It is now considered either a bad piece of science fiction or one of the great revelatory works of religious history, depending on how you look at it. In 1994, 1995, and 1996 the composer John Oswald released, first as two individual CDs and then as a double-CD, an album called Grayfolded, which the composer says in the liner notes he thinks of as existing in Tralfamadorian time. The Tralfamadorians in Vonnegut's novels don't see time as a linear thing with a beginning and end, but as a continuum that they can move between at will. When someone dies, they just think that at this particular point in time they're not doing so good, but at other points in time they're fine, so why focus on the bad time? In the book, when told of someone dying, the Tralfamadorians just say "so it goes". In between the first CD's release and the release of the double-CD version, Jerry Garcia died. From August 1942 through August 1995, Jerry Garcia was alive. So it goes. Shall we go, you and I? [Excerpt: The Grateful Dead, "Dark Star (Omni 3/30/94)"] "One principle has become clear. Since motives are so frequently found in combination, it is essential that the complex types be analyzed and arranged, with an eye kept single nevertheless to the master-theme under discussion. Collectors, both primary and subsidiary, have done such valiant service that the treasures at our command are amply sufficient for such studies, so extensive, indeed, that the task of going through them thoroughly has become too great for the unassisted student. It cannot be too strongly urged that a single theme in its various types and compounds must be made predominant in any useful comparative study. This is true when the sources and analogues of any literary work are treated; it is even truer when the bare motive is discussed. The Grateful Dead furnishes an apt illustration of the necessity of such handling. It appears in a variety of different combinations, almost never alone. Indeed, it is so widespread a tale, and its combinations are so various, that there is the utmost difficulty in determining just what may properly be regarded the original kernel of it, the simple theme to which other motives were joined. Various opinions, as we shall see, have been held with reference to this matter, most of them justified perhaps by the materials in the hands of the scholars holding them, but none quite adequate in view of later evidence." That's a quote from The Grateful Dead: The History of a Folk Story, by Gordon Hall Gerould, published in 1908. Kurt Vonnegut's novel Slaughterhouse-Five opens with a chapter about the process of writing the novel itself, and how difficult it was. He says "I would hate to tell you what this lousy little book cost me in money and anxiety and time. When I got home from the Second World War twenty-three years ago, I thought it would be easy for me to write about the destruction of Dresden, since all I would have to do would be to report what I had seen. And I thought, too, that it would be a masterpiece or at least make me a lot of money, since the subject was so big." This is an episode several of my listeners have been looking forward to, but it's one I've been dreading writing, because this is an episode -- I think the only one in the series -- where the format of the podcast simply *will not* work. Were the Grateful Dead not such an important band, I would skip this episode altogether, but they're a band that simply can't be ignored, and that's a real problem here. Because my intent, always, with this podcast, is to present the recordings of the artists in question, put them in context, and explain why they were important, what their music meant to its listeners. To put, as far as is possible, the positive case for why the music mattered *in the context of its time*. Not why it matters now, or why it matters to me, but why it matters *in its historical context*. Whether I like the music or not isn't the point. Whether it stands up now isn't the point. I play the music, explain what it was they were doing, why they were doing it, what people saw in it. If I do my job well, you come away listening to "Blue Suede Shoes" the way people heard it in 1956, or "Good Vibrations" the way people heard it in 1966, and understanding why people were so impressed by those records. That is simply *not possible* for the Grateful Dead. I can present a case for them as musicians, and hope to do so. I can explain the appeal as best I understand it, and talk about things I like in their music, and things I've noticed. But what I can't do is present their recordings the way they were received in the sixties and explain why they were popular. Because every other act I have covered or will cover in this podcast has been a *recording* act, and their success was based on records. They may also have been exceptional live performers, but James Brown or Ike and Tina Turner are remembered for great *records*, like "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag" or "River Deep, Mountain High". Their great moments were captured on vinyl, to be listened back to, and susceptible of analysis. That is not the case for the Grateful Dead, and what is worse *they explicitly said, publicly, on multiple occasions* that it is not possible for me to understand their art, and thus that it is not possible for me to explain it. The Grateful Dead did make studio records, some of them very good. But they always said, consistently, over a thirty year period, that their records didn't capture what they did, and that the only way -- the *only* way, they were very clear about this -- that one could actually understand and appreciate their music, was to see them live, and furthermore to see them live while on psychedelic drugs. [Excerpt: Grateful Dead crowd noise] I never saw the Grateful Dead live -- their last UK performance was a couple of years before I went to my first ever gig -- and I have never taken a psychedelic substance. So by the Grateful Dead's own criteria, it is literally impossible for me to understand or explain their music the way that it should be understood or explained. In a way I'm in a similar position to the one I was in with La Monte Young in the last episode, whose music it's mostly impossible to experience without being in his presence. This is one reason of several why I placed these two episodes back to back. Of course, there is a difference between Young and the Grateful Dead. The Grateful Dead allowed -- even encouraged -- the recording of their live performances. There are literally thousands of concert recordings in circulation, many of them of professional quality. I have listened to many of those, and I can hear what they were doing. I can tell you what *I* think is interesting about their music, and about their musicianship. And I think I can build up a good case for why they were important, and why they're interesting, and why those recordings are worth listening to. And I can certainly explain the cultural phenomenon that was the Grateful Dead. But just know that while I may have found *a* point, *an* explanation for why the Grateful Dead were important, by the band's own lights and those of their fans, no matter how good a job I do in this episode, I *cannot* get it right. And that is, in itself, enough of a reason for this episode to exist, and for me to try, even harder than I normally do, to get it right *anyway*. Because no matter how well I do my job this episode will stand as an example of why this series is called "*A* History", not *the* history. Because parts of the past are ephemeral. There are things about which it's true to say "You had to be there". I cannot know what it was like to have been an American the day Kennedy was shot, I cannot know what it was like to be alive when a man walked on the Moon. Those are things nobody my age or younger can ever experience. And since August the ninth, 1995, the experience of hearing the Grateful Dead's music the way they wanted it heard has been in that category. And that is by design. Jerry Garcia once said "if you work really hard as an artist, you may be able to build something they can't tear down, you know, after you're gone... What I want to do is I want it here. I want it now, in this lifetime. I want what I enjoy to last as long as I do and not last any longer. You know, I don't want something that ends up being as much a nuisance as it is a work of art, you know?" And there's another difficulty. There are only two points in time where it makes sense to do a podcast episode on the Grateful Dead -- late 1967 and early 1968, when the San Francisco scene they were part of was at its most culturally relevant, and 1988 when they had their only top ten hit and gained their largest audience. I can't realistically leave them out of the story until 1988, so it has to be 1968. But the songs they are most remembered for are those they wrote between 1970 and 1972, and those songs are influenced by artists and events we haven't yet covered in the podcast, who will be getting their own episodes in the future. I can't explain those things in this episode, because they need whole episodes of their own. I can't not explain them without leaving out important context for the Grateful Dead. So the best I can do is treat the story I'm telling as if it were in Tralfamadorian time. All of it's happening all at once, and some of it is happening in different episodes that haven't been recorded yet. The podcast as a whole travels linearly from 1938 through to 1999, but this episode is happening in 1968 and 1972 and 1988 and 1995 and other times, all at once. Sometimes I'll talk about things as if you're already familiar with them, but they haven't happened yet in the story. Feel free to come unstuck in time and revisit this time after episode 167, and 172, and 176, and 192, and experience it again. So this has to be an experimental episode. It may well be an experiment that you think fails. If so, the next episode is likely to be far more to your taste, and much shorter than this or the last episode, two episodes that between them have to create a scaffolding on which will hang much of the rest of this podcast's narrative. I've finished my Grateful Dead script now. The next one I write is going to be fun: [Excerpt: Grateful Dead, "Dark Star"] Infrastructure means everything. How we get from place to place, how we transport goods, information, and ourselves, makes a big difference in how society is structured, and in the music we hear. For many centuries, the prime means of long-distance transport was by water -- sailing ships on the ocean, canal boats and steamboats for inland navigation -- and so folk songs talked about the ship as both means of escape, means of making a living, and in some senses as a trap. You'd go out to sea for adventure, or to escape your problems, but you'd find that the sea itself brought its own problems. Because of this we have a long, long tradition of sea shanties which are known throughout the world: [Excerpt: A. L. Lloyd, "Off to Sea Once More"] But in the nineteenth century, the railway was invented and, at least as far as travel within a landmass goes, it replaced the steamboat in the popular imaginary. Now the railway was how you got from place to place, and how you moved freight from one place to another. The railway brought freedom, and was an opportunity for outlaws, whether train robbers or a romanticised version of the hobo hopping onto a freight train and making his way to new lands and new opportunity. It was the train that brought soldiers home from wars, and the train that allowed the Great Migration of Black people from the South to the industrial North. There would still be songs about the riverboats, about how ol' man river keeps rolling along and about the big river Johnny Cash sang about, but increasingly they would be songs of the past, not the present. The train quickly replaced the steamboat in the iconography of what we now think of as roots music -- blues, country, folk, and early jazz music. Sometimes this was very literal. Furry Lewis' "Kassie Jones" -- about a legendary train driver who would break the rules to make sure his train made the station on time, but who ended up sacrificing his own life to save his passengers in a train crash -- is based on "Alabamy Bound", which as we heard in the episode on "Stagger Lee", was about steamboats: [Excerpt: Furry Lewis, "Kassie Jones"] In the early episodes of this podcast we heard many, many, songs about the railway. Louis Jordan saying "take me right back to the track, Jack", Rosetta Tharpe singing about how "this train don't carry no gamblers", the trickster freight train driver driving on the "Rock Island Line", the mystery train sixteen coaches long, the train that kept-a-rollin' all night long, the Midnight Special which the prisoners wished would shine its ever-loving light on them, and the train coming past Folsom Prison whose whistle makes Johnny Cash hang his head and cry. But by the 1960s, that kind of song had started to dry up. It would happen on occasion -- "People Get Ready" by the Impressions is the most obvious example of the train metaphor in an important sixties record -- but by the late sixties the train was no longer a symbol of freedom but of the past. In 1969 Harry Nilsson sang about how "Nobody Cares About the Railroads Any More", and in 1968 the Kinks sang about "The Last of the Steam-Powered Trains". When in 1968 Merle Haggard sang about a freight train, it was as a memory, of a child with hopes that ended up thwarted by reality and his own nature: [Excerpt: Merle Haggard, "Mama Tried"] And the reason for this was that there had been another shift, a shift that had started in the forties and accelerated in the late fifties but had taken a little time to ripple through the culture. Now the train had been replaced in the popular imaginary by motorised transport. Instead of hopping on a train without paying, if you had no money in your pocket you'd have to hitch-hike all the way. Freedom now meant individuality. The ultimate in freedom was the biker -- the Hell's Angels who could go anywhere, unburdened by anything -- and instead of goods being moved by freight train, increasingly they were being moved by truck drivers. By the mid-seventies, truck drivers took a central place in American life, and the most romantic way to live life was to live it on the road. On The Road was also the title of a 1957 novel by Jack Kerouac, which was one of the first major signs of this cultural shift in America. Kerouac was writing about events in the late forties and early fifties, but his book was also a precursor of the sixties counterculture. He wrote the book on one continuous sheet of paper, as a stream of consciousness. Kerouac died in 1969 of an internal haemmorage brought on by too much alcohol consumption. So it goes. But the big key to this cultural shift was caused by the Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956, a massive infrastructure spending bill that led to the construction of the modern American Interstate Highway system. This accelerated a program that had already started, of building much bigger, safer, faster roads. It also, as anyone who has read Robert Caro's The Power Broker knows, reinforced segregation and white flight. It did this both by making commuting into major cities from the suburbs easier -- thus allowing white people with more money to move further away from the cities and still work there -- and by bulldozing community spaces where Black people lived. More than a million people lost their homes and were forcibly moved, and orders of magnitude more lost their communities' parks and green spaces. And both as a result of deliberate actions and unconscious bigotry, the bulk of those affected were Black people -- who often found themselves, if they weren't forced to move, on one side of a ten-lane highway where the park used to be, with white people on the other side of the highway. The Federal-Aid Highway Act gave even more power to the unaccountable central planners like Robert Moses, the urban planner in New York who managed to become arguably the most powerful man in the city without ever getting elected, partly by slowly compromising away his early progressive ideals in the service of gaining more power. Of course, not every new highway was built through areas where poor Black people lived. Some were planned to go through richer areas for white people, just because you can't completely do away with geographical realities. For example one was planned to be built through part of San Francisco, a rich, white part. But the people who owned properties in that area had enough political power and clout to fight the development, and after nearly a decade of fighting it, the development was called off in late 1966. But over that time, many of the owners of the impressive buildings in the area had moved out, and they had no incentive to improve or maintain their properties while they were under threat of demolition, so many of them were rented out very cheaply. And when the beat community that Kerouac wrote about, many of whom had settled in San Francisco, grew too large and notorious for the area of the city they were in, North Beach, many of them moved to these cheap homes in a previously-exclusive area. The area known as Haight-Ashbury. [Excerpt: The Grateful Dead, "Grayfolded"] Stories all have their starts, even stories told in Tralfamadorian time, although sometimes those starts are shrouded in legend. For example, the story of Scientology's start has been told many times, with different people claiming to have heard L. Ron Hubbard talk about how writing was a mug's game, and if you wanted to make real money, you needed to get followers, start a religion. Either he said this over and over and over again, to many different science fiction writers, or most science fiction writers of his generation were liars. Of course, the definition of a writer is someone who tells lies for money, so who knows? One of the more plausible accounts of him saying that is given by Theodore Sturgeon. Sturgeon's account is more believable than most, because Sturgeon went on to be a supporter of Dianetics, the "new science" that Hubbard turned into his religion, for decades, even while telling the story. The story of the Grateful Dead probably starts as it ends, with Jerry Garcia. There are three things that everyone writing about the Dead says about Garcia's childhood, so we might as well say them here too. The first is that he was named by a music-loving father after Jerome Kern, the songwriter responsible for songs like "Ol' Man River" (though as Oscar Hammerstein's widow liked to point out, "Jerome Kern wrote dum-dum-dum-dum, *my husband* wrote 'Ol' Man River'" -- an important distinction we need to bear in mind when talking about songwriters who write music but not lyrics). The second is that when he was five years old that music-loving father drowned -- and Garcia would always say he had seen his father dying, though some sources claim this was a false memory. So it goes. And the third fact, which for some reason is always told after the second even though it comes before it chronologically, is that when he was four he lost two joints from his right middle finger. Garcia grew up a troubled teen, and in turn caused trouble for other people, but he also developed a few interests that would follow him through his life. He loved the fantastical, especially the fantastical macabre, and became an avid fan of horror and science fiction -- and through his love of old monster films he became enamoured with cinema more generally. Indeed, in 1983 he bought the film rights to Kurt Vonnegut's science fiction novel The Sirens of Titan, the first story in which the Tralfamadorians appear, and wrote a script based on it. He wanted to produce the film himself, with Francis Ford Coppola directing and Bill Murray starring, but most importantly for him he wanted to prevent anyone who didn't care about it from doing it badly. And in that he succeeded. As of 2023 there is no film of The Sirens of Titan. He loved to paint, and would continue that for the rest of his life, with one of his favourite subjects being Boris Karloff as the Frankenstein monster. And when he was eleven or twelve, he heard for the first time a record that was hugely influential to a whole generation of Californian musicians, even though it was a New York record -- "Gee" by the Crows: [Excerpt: The Crows, "Gee"] Garcia would say later "That was an important song. That was the first kind of, like where the voices had that kind of not-trained-singer voices, but tough-guy-on-the-street voice." That record introduced him to R&B, and soon he was listening to Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley, to Ray Charles, and to a record we've not talked about in the podcast but which was one of the great early doo-wop records, "WPLJ" by the Four Deuces: [Excerpt: The Four Deuces, "WPLJ"] Garcia said of that record "That was one of my anthem songs when I was in junior high school and high school and around there. That was one of those songs everybody knew. And that everybody sang. Everybody sang that street-corner favorite." Garcia moved around a lot as a child, and didn't have much time for school by his own account, but one of the few teachers he did respect was an art teacher when he was in North Beach, Walter Hedrick. Hedrick was also one of the earliest of the conceptual artists, and one of the most important figures in the San Francisco arts scene that would become known as the Beat Generation (or the Beatniks, which was originally a disparaging term). Hedrick was a painter and sculptor, but also organised happenings, and he had also been one of the prime movers in starting a series of poetry readings in San Francisco, the first one of which had involved Allen Ginsberg giving the first ever reading of "Howl" -- one of a small number of poems, along with Eliot's "Prufrock" and "The Waste Land" and possibly Pound's Cantos, which can be said to have changed twentieth-century literature. Garcia was fifteen when he got to know Hedrick, in 1957, and by then the Beat scene had already become almost a parody of itself, having become known to the public because of the publication of works like On the Road, and the major artists in the scene were already rejecting the label. By this point tourists were flocking to North Beach to see these beatniks they'd heard about on TV, and Hedrick was actually employed by one cafe to sit in the window wearing a beret, turtleneck, sandals, and beard, and draw and paint, to attract the tourists who flocked by the busload because they could see that there was a "genuine beatnik" in the cafe. Hedrick was, as well as a visual artist, a guitarist and banjo player who played in traditional jazz bands, and he would bring records in to class for his students to listen to, and Garcia particularly remembered him bringing in records by Big Bill Broonzy: [Excerpt: Big Bill Broonzy, "When Things Go Wrong (It Hurts Me Too)"] Garcia was already an avid fan of rock and roll music, but it was being inspired by Hedrick that led him to get his first guitar. Like his contemporary Paul McCartney around the same time, he was initially given the wrong instrument as a birthday present -- in Garcia's case his mother gave him an accordion -- but he soon persuaded her to swap it for an electric guitar he saw in a pawn shop. And like his other contemporary, John Lennon, Garcia initially tuned his instrument incorrectly. He said later "When I started playing the guitar, believe me, I didn't know anybody that played. I mean, I didn't know anybody that played the guitar. Nobody. They weren't around. There were no guitar teachers. You couldn't take lessons. There was nothing like that, you know? When I was a kid and I had my first electric guitar, I had it tuned wrong and learned how to play on it with it tuned wrong for about a year. And I was getting somewhere on it, you know… Finally, I met a guy that knew how to tune it right and showed me three chords, and it was like a revelation. You know what I mean? It was like somebody gave me the key to heaven." He joined a band, the Chords, which mostly played big band music, and his friend Gary Foster taught him some of the rudiments of playing the guitar -- things like how to use a capo to change keys. But he was always a rebellious kid, and soon found himself faced with a choice between joining the military or going to prison. He chose the former, and it was during his time in the Army that a friend, Ron Stevenson, introduced him to the music of Merle Travis, and to Travis-style guitar picking: [Excerpt: Merle Travis, "Nine-Pound Hammer"] Garcia had never encountered playing like that before, but he instantly recognised that Travis, and Chet Atkins who Stevenson also played for him, had been an influence on Scotty Moore. He started to realise that the music he'd listened to as a teenager was influenced by music that went further back. But Stevenson, as well as teaching Garcia some of the rudiments of Travis-picking, also indirectly led to Garcia getting discharged from the Army. Stevenson was not a well man, and became suicidal. Garcia decided it was more important to keep his friend company and make sure he didn't kill himself than it was to turn up for roll call, and as a result he got discharged himself on psychiatric grounds -- according to Garcia he told the Army psychiatrist "I was involved in stuff that was more important to me in the moment than the army was and that was the reason I was late" and the psychiatrist thought it was neurotic of Garcia to have his own set of values separate from that of the Army. After discharge, Garcia did various jobs, including working as a transcriptionist for Lenny Bruce, the comedian who was a huge influence on the counterculture. In one of the various attacks over the years by authoritarians on language, Bruce was repeatedly arrested for obscenity, and in 1961 he was arrested at a jazz club in North Beach. Sixty years ago, the parts of speech that were being criminalised weren't pronouns, but prepositions and verbs: [Excerpt: Lenny Bruce, "To is a Preposition, Come is a Verb"] That piece, indeed, was so controversial that when Frank Zappa quoted part of it in a song in 1968, the record label insisted on the relevant passage being played backwards so people couldn't hear such disgusting filth: [Excerpt: The Mothers of Invention, "Harry You're a Beast"] (Anyone familiar with that song will understand that the censored portion is possibly the least offensive part of the whole thing). Bruce was facing trial, and he needed transcripts of what he had said in his recordings to present in court. Incidentally, there seems to be some confusion over exactly which of Bruce's many obscenity trials Garcia became a transcriptionist for. Dennis McNally says in his biography of the band, published in 2002, that it was the most famous of them, in autumn 1964, but in a later book, Jerry on Jerry, a book of interviews of Garcia edited by McNally, McNally talks about it being when Garcia was nineteen, which would mean it was Bruce's first trial, in 1961. We can put this down to the fact that many of the people involved, not least Garcia, lived in Tralfamadorian time, and were rather hazy on dates, but I'm placing the story here rather than in 1964 because it seems to make more sense that Garcia would be involved in a trial based on an incident in San Francisco than one in New York. Garcia got the job, even though he couldn't type, because by this point he'd spent so long listening to recordings of old folk and country music that he was used to transcribing indecipherable accents, and often, as Garcia would tell it, Bruce would mumble very fast and condense multiple syllables into one. Garcia was particularly impressed by Bruce's ability to improvise but talk in entire paragraphs, and he compared his use of language to bebop. Another thing that was starting to impress Garcia, and which he also compared to bebop, was bluegrass: [Excerpt: Bill Monroe, "Fire on the Mountain"] Bluegrass is a music that is often considered very traditional, because it's based on traditional songs and uses acoustic instruments, but in fact it was a terribly *modern* music, and largely a postwar creation of a single band -- Bill Monroe and his Blue Grass Boys. And Garcia was right when he said it was "white bebop" -- though he did say "The only thing it doesn't have is the harmonic richness of bebop. You know what I mean? That's what it's missing, but it has everything else." Both bebop and bluegrass evolved after the second world war, though they were informed by music from before it, and both prized the ability to improvise, and technical excellence. Both are musics that involved playing *fast*, in an ensemble, and being able to respond quickly to the other musicians. Both musics were also intensely rhythmic, a response to a faster paced, more stressful world. They were both part of the general change in the arts towards immediacy that we looked at in the last episode with the creation first of expressionism and then of pop art. Bluegrass didn't go into the harmonic explorations that modern jazz did, but it was absolutely as modern as anything Charlie Parker was doing, and came from the same impulses. It was tradition and innovation, the past and the future simultaneously. Bill Monroe, Jackson Pollock, Charlie Parker, Jack Kerouac, and Lenny Bruce were all in their own ways responding to the same cultural moment, and it was that which Garcia was responding to. But he didn't become able to play bluegrass until after a tragedy which shaped his life even more than his father's death had. Garcia had been to a party and was in a car with his friends Lee Adams, Paul Speegle, and Alan Trist. Adams was driving at ninety miles an hour when they hit a tight curve and crashed. Garcia, Adams, and Trist were all severely injured but survived. Speegle died. So it goes. This tragedy changed Garcia's attitudes totally. Of all his friends, Speegle was the one who was most serious about his art, and who treated it as something to work on. Garcia had always been someone who fundamentally didn't want to work or take any responsibility for anything. And he remained that way -- except for his music. Speegle's death changed Garcia's attitude to that, totally. If his friend wasn't going to be able to practice his own art any more, Garcia would practice his, in tribute to him. He resolved to become a virtuoso on guitar and banjo. His girlfriend of the time later said “I don't know if you've spent time with someone rehearsing ‘Foggy Mountain Breakdown' on a banjo for eight hours, but Jerry practiced endlessly. He really wanted to excel and be the best. He had tremendous personal ambition in the musical arena, and he wanted to master whatever he set out to explore. Then he would set another sight for himself. And practice another eight hours a day of new licks.” But of course, you can't make ensemble music on your own: [Excerpt: Jerry Garcia and Bob Hunter, "Oh Mary Don't You Weep" (including end)] "Evelyn said, “What is it called when a person needs a … person … when you want to be touched and the … two are like one thing and there isn't anything else at all anywhere?” Alicia, who had read books, thought about it. “Love,” she said at length." That's from More Than Human, by Theodore Sturgeon, a book I'll be quoting a few more times as the story goes on. Robert Hunter, like Garcia, was just out of the military -- in his case, the National Guard -- and he came into Garcia's life just after Paul Speegle had left it. Garcia and Alan Trist met Hunter ten days after the accident, and the three men started hanging out together, Trist and Hunter writing while Garcia played music. Garcia and Hunter both bonded over their shared love for the beats, and for traditional music, and the two formed a duo, Bob and Jerry, which performed together a handful of times. They started playing together, in fact, after Hunter picked up a guitar and started playing a song and halfway through Garcia took it off him and finished the song himself. The two of them learned songs from the Harry Smith Anthology -- Garcia was completely apolitical, and only once voted in his life, for Lyndon Johnson in 1964 to keep Goldwater out, and regretted even doing that, and so he didn't learn any of the more political material people like Pete Seeger, Phil Ochs, and Bob Dylan were doing at the time -- but their duo only lasted a short time because Hunter wasn't an especially good guitarist. Hunter would, though, continue to jam with Garcia and other friends, sometimes playing mandolin, while Garcia played solo gigs and with other musicians as well, playing and moving round the Bay Area and performing with whoever he could: [Excerpt: Jerry Garcia, "Railroad Bill"] "Bleshing, that was Janie's word. She said Baby told it to her. She said it meant everyone all together being something, even if they all did different things. Two arms, two legs, one body, one head, all working together, although a head can't walk and arms can't think. Lone said maybe it was a mixture of “blending” and “meshing,” but I don't think he believed that himself. It was a lot more than that." That's from More Than Human In 1961, Garcia and Hunter met another young musician, but one who was interested in a very different type of music. Phil Lesh was a serious student of modern classical music, a classically-trained violinist and trumpeter whose interest was solidly in the experimental and whose attitude can be summed up by a story that's always told about him meeting his close friend Tom Constanten for the first time. Lesh had been talking with someone about serialism, and Constanten had interrupted, saying "Music stopped being created in 1750 but it started again in 1950". Lesh just stuck out his hand, recognising a kindred spirit. Lesh and Constanten were both students of Luciano Berio, the experimental composer who created compositions for magnetic tape: [Excerpt: Luciano Berio, "Momenti"] Berio had been one of the founders of the Studio di fonologia musicale di Radio Milano, a studio for producing contemporary electronic music where John Cage had worked for a time, and he had also worked with the electronic music pioneer Karlheinz Stockhausen. Lesh would later remember being very impressed when Berio brought a tape into the classroom -- the actual multitrack tape for Stockhausen's revolutionary piece Gesang Der Juenglinge: [Excerpt: Karlheinz Stockhausen, "Gesang Der Juenglinge"] Lesh at first had been distrustful of Garcia -- Garcia was charismatic and had followers, and Lesh never liked people like that. But he was impressed by Garcia's playing, and soon realised that the two men, despite their very different musical interests, had a lot in common. Lesh was interested in the technology of music as well as in performing and composing it, and so when he wasn't studying he helped out by engineering at the university's radio station. Lesh was impressed by Garcia's playing, and suggested to the presenter of the station's folk show, the Midnight Special, that Garcia be a guest. Garcia was so good that he ended up getting an entire solo show to himself, where normally the show would feature multiple acts. Lesh and Constanten soon moved away from the Bay Area to Las Vegas, but both would be back -- in Constanten's case he would form an experimental group in San Francisco with their fellow student Steve Reich, and that group (though not with Constanten performing) would later premiere Terry Riley's In C, a piece influenced by La Monte Young and often considered one of the great masterpieces of minimalist music. By early 1962 Garcia and Hunter had formed a bluegrass band, with Garcia on guitar and banjo and Hunter on mandolin, and a rotating cast of other musicians including Ken Frankel, who played banjo and fiddle. They performed under different names, including the Tub Thumpers, the Hart Valley Drifters, and the Sleepy Valley Hog Stompers, and played a mixture of bluegrass and old-time music -- and were very careful about the distinction: [Excerpt: The Hart Valley Drifters, "Cripple Creek"] In 1993, the Republican political activist John Perry Barlow was invited to talk to the CIA about the possibilities open to them with what was then called the Information Superhighway. He later wrote, in part "They told me they'd brought Steve Jobs in a few weeks before to indoctrinate them in modern information management. And they were delighted when I returned later, bringing with me a platoon of Internet gurus, including Esther Dyson, Mitch Kapor, Tony Rutkowski, and Vint Cerf. They sealed us into an electronically impenetrable room to discuss the radical possibility that a good first step in lifting their blackout would be for the CIA to put up a Web site... We told them that information exchange was a barter system, and that to receive, one must also be willing to share. This was an alien notion to them. They weren't even willing to share information among themselves, much less the world." 1962 brought a new experience for Robert Hunter. Hunter had been recruited into taking part in psychological tests at Stanford University, which in the sixties and seventies was one of the preeminent universities for psychological experiments. As part of this, Hunter was given $140 to attend the VA hospital (where a janitor named Ken Kesey, who had himself taken part in a similar set of experiments a couple of years earlier, worked a day job while he was working on his first novel) for four weeks on the run, and take different psychedelic drugs each time, starting with LSD, so his reactions could be observed. (It was later revealed that these experiments were part of a CIA project called MKUltra, designed to investigate the possibility of using psychedelic drugs for mind control, blackmail, and torture. Hunter was quite lucky in that he was told what was going to happen to him and paid for his time. Other subjects included the unlucky customers of brothels the CIA set up as fronts -- they dosed the customers' drinks and observed them through two-way mirrors. Some of their experimental subjects died by suicide as a result of their experiences. So it goes. ) Hunter was interested in taking LSD after reading Aldous Huxley's writings about psychedelic substances, and he brought his typewriter along to the experiment. During the first test, he wrote a six-page text, a short excerpt from which is now widely quoted, reading in part "Sit back picture yourself swooping up a shell of purple with foam crests of crystal drops soft nigh they fall unto the sea of morning creep-very-softly mist ... and then sort of cascade tinkley-bell-like (must I take you by the hand, ever so slowly type) and then conglomerate suddenly into a peal of silver vibrant uncomprehendingly, blood singingly, joyously resounding bells" Hunter's experience led to everyone in their social circle wanting to try LSD, and soon they'd all come to the same conclusion -- this was something special. But Garcia needed money -- he'd got his girlfriend pregnant, and they'd married (this would be the first of several marriages in Garcia's life, and I won't be covering them all -- at Garcia's funeral, his second wife, Carolyn, said Garcia always called her the love of his life, and his first wife and his early-sixties girlfriend who he proposed to again in the nineties both simultaneously said "He said that to me!"). So he started teaching guitar at a music shop in Palo Alto. Hunter had no time for Garcia's incipient domesticity and thought that his wife was trying to make him live a conventional life, and the two drifted apart somewhat, though they'd still play together occasionally. Through working at the music store, Garcia got to know the manager, Troy Weidenheimer, who had a rock and roll band called the Zodiacs. Garcia joined the band on bass, despite that not being his instrument. He later said "Troy was a lot of fun, but I wasn't good enough a musician then to have been able to deal with it. I was out of my idiom, really, 'cause when I played with Troy I was playing electric bass, you know. I never was a good bass player. Sometimes I was playing in the wrong key and didn't even [fuckin'] know it. I couldn't hear that low, after playing banjo, you know, and going to electric...But Troy taught me the principle of, hey, you know, just stomp your foot and get on it. He was great. A great one for the instant arrangement, you know. And he was also fearless for that thing of get your friends to do it." Garcia's tenure in the Zodiacs didn't last long, nor did this experiment with rock and roll, but two other members of the Zodiacs will be notable later in the story -- the harmonica player, an old friend of Garcia's named Ron McKernan, who would soon gain the nickname Pig Pen after the Peanuts character, and the drummer, Bill Kreutzmann: [Excerpt: The Grateful Dead, "Drums/Space (Skull & Bones version)"] Kreutzmann said of the Zodiacs "Jerry was the hired bass player and I was the hired drummer. I only remember playing that one gig with them, but I was in way over my head. I always did that. I always played things that were really hard and it didn't matter. I just went for it." Garcia and Kreutzmann didn't really get to know each other then, but Garcia did get to know someone else who would soon be very important in his life. Bob Weir was from a very different background than Garcia, though both had the shared experience of long bouts of chronic illness as children. He had grown up in a very wealthy family, and had always been well-liked, but he was what we would now call neurodivergent -- reading books about the band he talks about being dyslexic but clearly has other undiagnosed neurodivergences, which often go along with dyslexia -- and as a result he was deemed to have behavioural problems which led to him getting expelled from pre-school and kicked out of the cub scouts. He was never academically gifted, thanks to his dyslexia, but he was always enthusiastic about music -- to a fault. He learned to play boogie piano but played so loudly and so often his parents sold the piano. He had a trumpet, but the neighbours complained about him playing it outside. Finally he switched to the guitar, an instrument with which it is of course impossible to make too loud a noise. The first song he learned was the Kingston Trio's version of an old sea shanty, "The Wreck of the John B": [Excerpt: The Kingston Trio, "The Wreck of the John B"] He was sent off to a private school in Colorado for teenagers with behavioural issues, and there he met the boy who would become his lifelong friend, John Perry Barlow. Unfortunately the two troublemakers got on with each other *so* well that after their first year they were told that it was too disruptive having both of them at the school, and only one could stay there the next year. Barlow stayed and Weir moved back to the Bay Area. By this point, Weir was getting more interested in folk music that went beyond the commercial folk of the Kingston Trio. As he said later "There was something in there that was ringing my bells. What I had grown up thinking of as hillbilly music, it started to have some depth for me, and I could start to hear the music in it. Suddenly, it wasn't just a bunch of ignorant hillbillies playing what they could. There was some depth and expertise and stuff like that to aspire to.” He moved from school to school but one thing that stayed with him was his love of playing guitar, and he started taking lessons from Troy Weidenheimer, but he got most of his education going to folk clubs and hootenannies. He regularly went to the Tangent, a club where Garcia played, but Garcia's bluegrass banjo playing was far too rigorous for a free spirit like Weir to emulate, and instead he started trying to copy one of the guitarists who was a regular there, Jorma Kaukonnen. On New Year's Eve 1963 Weir was out walking with his friends Bob Matthews and Rich Macauley, and they passed the music shop where Garcia was a teacher, and heard him playing his banjo. They knocked and asked if they could come in -- they all knew Garcia a little, and Bob Matthews was one of his students, having become interested in playing banjo after hearing the theme tune to the Beverly Hillbillies, played by the bluegrass greats Flatt and Scruggs: [Excerpt: Flatt and Scruggs, "The Beverly Hillbillies"] Garcia at first told these kids, several years younger than him, that they couldn't come in -- he was waiting for his students to show up. But Weir said “Jerry, listen, it's seven-thirty on New Year's Eve, and I don't think you're going to be seeing your students tonight.” Garcia realised the wisdom of this, and invited the teenagers in to jam with him. At the time, there was a bit of a renaissance in jug bands, as we talked about back in the episode on the Lovin' Spoonful. This was a form of music that had grown up in the 1920s, and was similar and related to skiffle and coffee-pot bands -- jug bands would tend to have a mixture of portable string instruments like guitars and banjos, harmonicas, and people using improvised instruments, particularly blowing into a jug. The most popular of these bands had been Gus Cannon's Jug Stompers, led by banjo player Gus Cannon and with harmonica player Noah Lewis: [Excerpt: Gus Cannon's Jug Stompers, "Viola Lee Blues"] With the folk revival, Cannon's work had become well-known again. The Rooftop Singers, a Kingston Trio style folk group, had had a hit with his song "Walk Right In" in 1963, and as a result of that success Cannon had even signed a record contract with Stax -- Stax's first album ever, a month before Booker T and the MGs' first album, was in fact the eighty-year-old Cannon playing his banjo and singing his old songs. The rediscovery of Cannon had started a craze for jug bands, and the most popular of the new jug bands was Jim Kweskin's Jug Band, which did a mixture of old songs like "You're a Viper" and more recent material redone in the old style. Weir, Matthews, and Macauley had been to see the Kweskin band the night before, and had been very impressed, especially by their singer Maria D'Amato -- who would later marry her bandmate Geoff Muldaur and take his name -- and her performance of Leiber and Stoller's "I'm a Woman": [Excerpt: Jim Kweskin's Jug Band, "I'm a Woman"] Matthews suggested that they form their own jug band, and Garcia eagerly agreed -- though Matthews found himself rapidly moving from banjo to washboard to kazoo to second kazoo before realising he was surplus to requirements. Robert Hunter was similarly an early member but claimed he "didn't have the embouchure" to play the jug, and was soon also out. He moved to LA and started studying Scientology -- later claiming that he wanted science-fictional magic powers, which L. Ron Hubbard's new religion certainly offered. The group took the name Mother McRee's Uptown Jug Champions -- apparently they varied the spelling every time they played -- and had a rotating membership that at one time or another included about twenty different people, but tended always to have Garcia on banjo, Weir on jug and later guitar, and Garcia's friend Pig Pen on harmonica: [Excerpt: Mother McRee's Uptown Jug Champions, "On the Road Again"] The group played quite regularly in early 1964, but Garcia's first love was still bluegrass, and he was trying to build an audience with his bluegrass band, The Black Mountain Boys. But bluegrass was very unpopular in the Bay Area, where it was simultaneously thought of as unsophisticated -- as "hillbilly music" -- and as elitist, because it required actual instrumental ability, which wasn't in any great supply in the amateur folk scene. But instrumental ability was something Garcia definitely had, as at this point he was still practising eight hours a day, every day, and it shows on the recordings of the Black Mountain Boys: [Excerpt: The Black Mountain Boys, "Rosa Lee McFall"] By the summer, Bob Weir was also working at the music shop, and so Garcia let Weir take over his students while he and the Black Mountain Boys' guitarist Sandy Rothman went on a road trip to see as many bluegrass musicians as they could and to audition for Bill Monroe himself. As it happened, Garcia found himself too shy to audition for Monroe, but Rothman later ended up playing with Monroe's Blue Grass Boys. On his return to the Bay Area, Garcia resumed playing with the Uptown Jug Champions, but Pig Pen started pestering him to do something different. While both men had overlapping tastes in music and a love for the blues, Garcia's tastes had always been towards the country end of the spectrum while Pig Pen's were towards R&B. And while the Uptown Jug Champions were all a bit disdainful of the Beatles at first -- apart from Bob Weir, the youngest of the group, who thought they were interesting -- Pig Pen had become enamoured of another British band who were just starting to make it big: [Excerpt: The Rolling Stones, "Not Fade Away"] 29) Garcia liked the first Rolling Stones album too, and he eventually took Pig Pen's point -- the stuff that the Rolling Stones were doing, covers of Slim Harpo and Buddy Holly, was not a million miles away from the material they were doing as Mother McRee's Uptown Jug Champions. Pig Pen could play a little electric organ, Bob had been fooling around with the electric guitars in the music shop. Why not give it a go? The stuff bands like the Rolling Stones were doing wasn't that different from the electric blues that Pig Pen liked, and they'd all seen A Hard Day's Night -- they could carry on playing with banjos, jugs, and kazoos and have the respect of a handful of folkies, or they could get electric instruments and potentially have screaming girls and millions of dollars, while playing the same songs. This was a convincing argument, especially when Dana Morgan Jr, the son of the owner of the music shop, told them they could have free electric instruments if they let him join on bass. Morgan wasn't that great on bass, but what the hell, free instruments. Pig Pen had the best voice and stage presence, so he became the frontman of the new group, singing most of the leads, though Jerry and Bob would both sing a few songs, and playing harmonica and organ. Weir was on rhythm guitar, and Garcia was the lead guitarist and obvious leader of the group. They just needed a drummer, and handily Bill Kreutzmann, who had played with Garcia and Pig Pen in the Zodiacs, was also now teaching music at the music shop. Not only that, but about three weeks before they decided to go electric, Kreutzmann had seen the Uptown Jug Champions performing and been astonished by Garcia's musicianship and charisma, and said to himself "Man, I'm gonna follow that guy forever!" The new group named themselves the Warlocks, and started rehearsing in earnest. Around this time, Garcia also finally managed to get some of the LSD that his friend Robert Hunter had been so enthusiastic about three years earlier, and it was a life-changing experience for him. In particular, he credited LSD with making him comfortable being a less disciplined player -- as a bluegrass player he'd had to be frighteningly precise, but now he was playing rock and needed to loosen up. A few days after taking LSD for the first time, Garcia also heard some of Bob Dylan's new material, and realised that the folk singer he'd had little time for with his preachy politics was now making electric music that owed a lot more to the Beat culture Garcia considered himself part of: [Excerpt: Bob Dylan, "Subterranean Homesick Blues"] Another person who was hugely affected by hearing that was Phil Lesh, who later said "I couldn't believe that was Bob Dylan on AM radio, with an electric band. It changed my whole consciousness: if something like that could happen, the sky was the limit." Up to that point, Lesh had been focused entirely on his avant-garde music, working with friends like Steve Reich to push music forward, inspired by people like John Cage and La Monte Young, but now he realised there was music of value in the rock world. He'd quickly started going to rock gigs, seeing the Rolling Stones and the Byrds, and then he took acid and went to see his friend Garcia's new electric band play their third ever gig. He was blown away, and very quickly it was decided that Lesh would be the group's new bass player -- though everyone involved tells a different story as to who made the decision and how it came about, and accounts also vary as to whether Dana Morgan took his sacking gracefully and let his erstwhile bandmates keep their instruments, or whether they had to scrounge up some new ones. Lesh had never played bass before, but he was a talented multi-instrumentalist with a deep understanding of music and an ability to compose and improvise, and the repertoire the Warlocks were playing in the early days was mostly three-chord material that doesn't take much rehearsal -- though it was apparently beyond the abilities of poor Dana Morgan, who apparently had to be told note-by-note what to play by Garcia, and learn it by rote. Garcia told Lesh what notes the strings of a bass were tuned to, told him to borrow a guitar and practice, and within two weeks he was on stage with the Warlocks: [Excerpt: The Grateful Dead, “Grayfolded"] In September 1995, just weeks after Jerry Garcia's death, an article was published in Mute magazine identifying a cultural trend that had shaped the nineties, and would as it turned out shape at least the next thirty years. It's titled "The Californian Ideology", though it may be better titled "The Bay Area Ideology", and it identifies a worldview that had grown up in Silicon Valley, based around the ideas of the hippie movement, of right-wing libertarianism, of science fiction authors, and of Marshall McLuhan. It starts "There is an emerging global orthodoxy concerning the relation between society, technology and politics. We have called this orthodoxy `the Californian Ideology' in honour of the state where it originated. By naturalising and giving a technological proof to a libertarian political philosophy, and therefore foreclosing on alternative futures, the Californian Ideologues are able to assert that social and political debates about the future have now become meaningless. The California Ideology is a mix of cybernetics, free market economics, and counter-culture libertarianism and is promulgated by magazines such as WIRED and MONDO 2000 and preached in the books of Stewart Brand, Kevin Kelly and others. The new faith has been embraced by computer nerds, slacker students, 30-something capitalists, hip academics, futurist bureaucrats and even the President of the USA himself. As usual, Europeans have not been slow to copy the latest fashion from America. While a recent EU report recommended adopting the Californian free enterprise model to build the 'infobahn', cutting-edge artists and academics have been championing the 'post-human' philosophy developed by the West Coast's Extropian cult. With no obvious opponents, the global dominance of the Californian ideology appears to be complete." [Excerpt: Grayfolded] The Warlocks' first gig with Phil Lesh on bass was on June the 18th 1965, at a club called Frenchy's with a teenage clientele. Lesh thought his playing had been wooden and it wasn't a good gig, and apparently the management of Frenchy's agreed -- they were meant to play a second night there, but turned up to be told they'd been replaced by a band with an accordion and clarinet. But by September the group had managed to get themselves a residency at a small bar named the In Room, and playing there every night made them cohere. They were at this point playing the kind of sets that bar bands everywhere play to this day, though at the time the songs they were playing, like "Gloria" by Them and "In the Midnight Hour", were the most contemporary of hits. Another song that they introduced into their repertoire was "Do You Believe in Magic" by the Lovin' Spoonful, another band which had grown up out of former jug band musicians. As well as playing their own sets, they were also the house band at The In Room and as such had to back various touring artists who were the headline acts. The first act they had to back up was Cornell Gunter's version of the Coasters. Gunter had brought his own guitarist along as musical director, and for the first show Weir sat in the audience watching the show and learning the parts, staring intently at this musical director's playing. After seeing that, Weir's playing was changed, because he also picked up how the guitarist was guiding the band while playing, the small cues that a musical director will use to steer the musicians in the right direction. Weir started doing these things himself when he was singing lead -- Pig Pen was the frontman but everyone except Bill sang sometimes -- and the group soon found that rather than Garcia being the sole leader, now whoever was the lead singer for the song was the de facto conductor as well. By this point, the Bay Area was getting almost overrun with people forming electric guitar bands, as every major urban area in America was. Some of the bands were even having hits already -- We Five had had a number three hit with "You Were On My Mind", a song which had originally been performed by the folk duo Ian and Sylvia: [Excerpt: We Five, "You Were On My Mind"] Although the band that was most highly regarded on the scene, the Charlatans, was having problems with the various record companies they tried to get signed to, and didn't end up making a record until 1969. If tracks like "Number One" had been released in 1965 when they were recorded, the history of the San Francisco music scene may have taken a very different turn: [Excerpt: The Charlatans, "Number One"] Bands like Jefferson Airplane, the Great Society, and Big Brother and the Holding Company were also forming, and Autumn Records was having a run of success with records by the Beau Brummels, whose records were produced by Autumn's in-house A&R man, Sly Stone: [Excerpt: The Beau Brummels, "Laugh Laugh"] The Warlocks were somewhat cut off from this, playing in a dive bar whose clientele was mostly depressed alcoholics. But the fact that they were playing every night for an audience that didn't care much gave them freedom, and they used that freedom to improvise. Both Lesh and Garcia were big fans of John Coltrane, and they started to take lessons from his style of playing. When the group played "Gloria" or "Midnight Hour" or whatever, they started to extend the songs and give themselves long instrumental passages for soloing. Garcia's playing wasn't influenced *harmonically* by Coltrane -- in fact Garcia was always a rather harmonically simple player. He'd tend to play lead lines either in Mixolydian mode, which is one of the most standard modes in rock, pop, blues, and jazz, or he'd play the notes of the chord that was being played, so if the band were playing a G chord his lead would emphasise the notes G, B, and D. But what he was influenced by was Coltrane's tendency to improvise in long, complex, phrases that made up a single thought -- Coltrane was thinking musically in paragraphs, rather than sentences, and Garcia started to try the same kind of th

Episode 37 and a packed 100+ minutes of great music for Boomers et al, with the regular Motown Moment, Sounds of Surf and the Sixties-Nine. Number Ones from T-Rex, Manfred Mann and Deep Blue Something; and the Tracks Less Travelled are by Wilson Pickett, Hall & Oates and Sting, plus there's a version of Badfinger's Day After Day, you may have never heard before. Also we remember George Harrison's birthday through his son Dhani, the Beatles and the Travelling Wilburys.All Golden's Oldies playlists can be found on my Facebook page; Golden's Oldies (The Chris Golden Show)........search playlists.

1988: Bruce Springsteen spielt sein legendäres Konzert in Ost-Berlin und die Traveling Wilburys bringen "Handle with care" heraus.

Paul McDonald's voice is immediately recognizable and impossible to ignore. Often compared to legends like Rod Stewart and Bob Dylan, his songs are relatable and universal. The poetic story-driven narratives and deeply catchy hooks in his music are delivered by a raspy yet refined voice reminiscent of another era yet that demands to be heard right now. He pulls off the rare feat of being a poet, visual artist, songwriter, adamant performer, and powerful vocalist. Born in Auburn, Alabama, he was raised on southern rock with bands like Lynyrd Skynyrd and the Allman Brothers, roots, country, and gospel music intertwined with the late 60's Laurel Canyon folk scene.  He has been inspired by the authenticity and artistry of his heroes like Tom Petty, The Rolling Stones, Neil Young, and Jackson Browne.As a child, Paul was obsessed with everything music related, but never considered the idea of being a musician until his father bought him a guitar for Christmas at the age of 15. He immediately started writing his own songs and playing shows around town and in high school talent shows, but it was still more of a hobby and form of self-expression than a career path. In college, he joined the school's gospel choir and toured all through the southeast performing at small southern baptist churches. “It was one of my favorite seasons of life. I learned how to tune in with the higher power and sing from the soul.” During this time, he was still writing his own songs and was pushed once again by friends to start playing in bars and local venues around town. By his early 20s, he had started a band and was touring and making records full-time. “It all seemed to happen pretty quickly and naturally. I've been carrying around a guitar since I was a kid, and as soon as I ever tried to go in a different direction (he was two classes away from majoring in Biomedical Sciences at Auburn University), the universe would always pull me right back to the music. It was like I was supposed to be writing songs and playing shows for the rest of my life. There was no other option….and I haven't looked back ever since.”Paul's hope & mission is to spread peace, love, and unity through his music, connection & community through song.Paul dials into MNPR HQ from his tour bus to chat with Dino Bedrocker about life on the road, playing in a Travelling Wilburys tribute band, his new music, playing with legends of the music world, American Idol, earning his stripes in Nashville, coming to the UK, and the story behind how he came to own Phil Everly's suit.Support the show

Album de la semaine: "Please please me" (Beatles 1963)- Home recording enregistré en 2019 Beatles-I saw her standing there-Please please me (63)P.McCartney-Teddy boy-McCartney (70)J.Lennon-Mother-Anthology 1: Ascott (98)G.Harrison-Apple scruffs-All things must pass (70)R.Starr-Have I told you lately that I love you-Sentimental journey (70)Beatles-Love me do-Please please me (63)Beatles-Please Mister Postman-With the Beatles (63)Beatles-I don't want to spoil the party-For sale (64)P.McCartney-London town-London town (78)Beatles-I'll be back-A hard day's night (64)Beatles-Please please me-Please please me (63)P.McCartney-The long and winding road-Give my regards to Broadstreet (84)G.Harrison-All those years ago-Somewhere in England (81)R.Starr-Vertical man-Vertical man (98)Beatles-Tomorrow never knows-Anthology highlights (10)Beatles-Boys-Please please me (63)Jesse Fuller-San Francisco bay blues-The roots of Paul McCartney (11-54)P.McCartney-San Francisco bay blues (live)-Unplugged (91)Travelling Wilburys-Handle with care-Travelling Wilburys vol.1 (88)J.Lennon-Tight a$-Mind games (73)Beatles-Do you want to know a secret-Please please me (63)R.Starr-Trippin' on my own tears-Ringo Rama (03)J.Lennon-Old dirt road-Walls and bridges (74)Beatles-Revolution-USB (68)P.McCartney-Get back (acoustic version) (live)-The Bridge school concert (11)Beatles-Twist and shout-Please please me (63)G.Harrison-Run so far-Brainwashed (02)Beatles-The end-Tomorrow never knows (10)J.Lennon-Cleanup time-Double fantasy (80)P.McCartney-Hand in hand-Egypt Station (18)P.McCartney-Love mix-B side "Beautiful night" single (87)R.Starr-Free drinks-Choose love (08)

This week Rebekah hears punk rock with a female lead singer, learns about a music project which ends with the founders burning £1m, while another group from England are so underrated in their home land, they are actually more successful in America. Plus Rebekah hears the music of the biggest supergroup ever formed!

In this special soiree our heroes find themselves at either end of an argument as they can't agree on who the Travelling Wilburys actually are (no bits!). Hailed as an early supergroup, the Travelling Wilburys managed to put out just one record in 1988, before the death of Leftie. That didn't stop them from creating one of the most near perfect albums in existence though. Of course along the way the guys throw in their trademark, off the wall and “esoteric” humour and head off on wild tangents. Head over to www.asoundpurchase.com/shop to see our range of merchandise, we want to keep both the regular pod and bonus pods free of cost, and you can help that to continue by purchasing some of the mugs, hoodies or shirts we have on offer.Your support of this podcast is hugely appreciated, you have been vital to the sanity of our heroic podcast hosts. You can continue to show your support when you like us, review us, share us, and subscribe to us. Whilst you are at it, why don't you get a little something for yourself by becoming a ‘friend of the show'; you will gain instant access to exclusive bonus podcast episodes (like the famous full length interview with Miguelito from the Cuban Brothers), blog posts, and you can visit the hall of ‘top 10s'. We are also rolling out a monthly watch party that explores the entire filmography of the great Austrian Oak, Mr. Arnold Schwarzenegger. It won't cost you a penny to sign up, yet you gain so much! Sign up now at www.asoundpurchase.com/fots

What is a Magic Band+? What is the Shopdisney website playing at? And how much does an Orlando trip cost now, and back in the day? Join our official FB Group - The Official After Dark Podcast Network Mail us at disafterdark@gmail.com https://www.patreon.com/thatpodcasts if you want to support That Disney Parks Podcast, That Disneyland Paris Podcast and That Universal Podcast and get access to early episode releases and exclusive shows you cannot get anywhere else! This is a That Production, a Founding Podcast of The After Dark Podcast Network Check out some of the other shows on The After Dark Podcast Network such as; Dis Is Your Life, That Disney Parks Podcast, That Universal Podcast, Everybody's Got One, Bif! Pow! Bam!, Mickey Waffles - An Irish Disney Podcast, That Disneyland Paris Podcast, Alice's Magical Podcast, Pop After Dark, Better Call Paul, The Imagine Ears, Simon Says, My Bench, Pits and Gigs, Brits Guide to Disney Vacation Club and The Half and Half Scarves Podcast. We have podcasts about Theme Parks, Movies, Pop Culture, Comic Books, Orlando, Football and Comedy. Something for everyone!

Una sesión de canciones aptas para viajar por el asfalto. Playlist; (sintonía) BILLY PRESTON “King of the road” GRATEFUL DEAD “Truckin’” TRAVELLING WILBURYS “Handle with care” THE OZARK MOUNTAIN DAREDEVILS “Walking down the road” JONATHAN RICHMAN “Roadrunner” IGGY POP “Highway song” THE EASYBEATS “Hit the road Jack” CHUCK BERRY “Down the road apiece” THE ROLLING STONES “Country honk” THE LORDS “On the road again” THE TRAVOLTAS “One for the road” CREEDENCE CLEARWATER REVIVAL “The Midnight Special” THE LOST CRUSADERS with LAURA CANTRELL “Have you heard about the world?” CRACKER “Been around the world” TED HAWKINS “Country roads” Escuchar audio

Gracias a las excelentes recomendaciones de nuestros colaboradores, hoy tenemos en el programa pop californiano de la mano de grupos como Crocodiles con su nuevo álbum Endless Flowers, o Baby Grand y su estupendo disco Arts & Leisure. Otra recomendación nos lleva directamente a la escena indie berlinesa, de donde viene Masha Qrella, de su disco Analogies editado por Morr Music escuchamos la canción Fishing Buddies. También traemos al programa el nuevo álbum de Guided By Voices, y seguimos escuchando otros discos y artistas habituales en Ya No Puedo Más: Richard Hawley, Strawberry Whiplash, o The School. En el terreno de las recuperaciones, hoy están presentes bandas como The Byrds, The Travelling Wilburys o The Temptations.

Belfast's Steven Cockcroft (co-host of leading Beatles podcast Nothing Is Real) offers unexpected takes on The Boys and Bob: “Roll On John isn't about an individual, it's about the sanctification of Lennon” and “The Travelling Wilburys was a calculated move by George”. Also on the menu: Dylan's questionable harmonies on an obscure Ringo album track and his controversial cover of Paul's Things We Said Today. Plus: did you know that John asked Bob to play piano on Cold Turkey? Have you discovered the reference to Ringo on Don't Fall Apart On Me Tonight? Ever hear Dylan's in-concert cover of The Long and Winding Road? Or hear about the accusatory T-shirt he was gifted by George? How good is our Beatles episode? This Englishman said fab. Steven Cockroft is a partner in a law firm in Belfast. He co-hosts Nothing Is Real, the best Beatles podcast out there. Born in 1963, he grew up firmly believing the 1960s were the Golden Age. In the late 1970s, he sat out the 'punk wars', listening to Bob Dylan, The Beatles and Van Morrison. Hosting the podcast came about after Steven and co-host Jason Carty won the Beatle Brain of Ireland competition. They have interviewed Kevin Godley, Mark Lewisohn and several ex-members of Wings but are best known for their humorous and forensic following of the Fabs and their post-Beatles projects. Twitter Trailer Episode playlist on Apple Episode playlist on Spotify Listeners: please subscribe and/or leave a review and a rating. Twitter @isitrollingpod Recorded 25th February 2022 This show is part of Pantheon Podcasts Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Belfast's Steven Cockcroft (co-host of leading Beatles podcast Nothing Is Real) offers unexpected takes on The Boys and Bob: “Roll On John isn't about an individual, it's about the sanctification of Lennon” and “The Travelling Wilburys was a calculated move by George”. Also on the menu: Dylan's questionable harmonies on an obscure Ringo album track and his controversial cover of Paul's Things We Said Today. Plus: did you know that John asked Bob to play piano on Cold Turkey? Have you discovered the reference to Ringo on Don't Fall Apart On Me Tonight? Ever hear Dylan's in-concert cover of The Long and Winding Road? Or hear about the accusatory T-shirt he was gifted by George?How good is our Beatles episode? This Englishman said fab.Steven Cockroft is a partner in a law firm in Belfast. He co-hosts Nothing Is Real, the best Beatles podcast out there. Born in 1963, he grew up firmly believing the 1960s were the Golden Age. In the late 1970s, he sat out the 'punk wars', listening to Bob Dylan, The Beatles and Van Morrison. Hosting the podcast came about after Steven and co-host Jason Carty won the Beatle Brain of Ireland competition. They have interviewed Kevin Godley, Mark Lewisohn and several ex-members of Wings but are best known for their humorous and forensic following of the Fabs and their post-Beatles projects.TwitterTrailerEpisode playlist on AppleEpisode playlist on SpotifyListeners: please subscribe and/or leave a review and a rating.Twitter @isitrollingpodRecorded 25th February 2022This show is part of Pantheon Podcasts

Belfast's Steven Cockcroft (co-host of leading Beatles podcast Nothing Is Real) offers unexpected takes on The Boys and Bob: “Roll On John isn't about an individual, it's about the sanctification of Lennon” and “The Travelling Wilburys was a calculated move by George”. Also on the menu: Dylan's questionable harmonies on an obscure Ringo album track and his controversial cover of Paul's Things We Said Today. Plus: did you know that John asked Bob to play piano on Cold Turkey? Have you discovered the reference to Ringo on Don't Fall Apart On Me Tonight? Ever hear Dylan's in-concert cover of The Long and Winding Road? Or hear about the accusatory T-shirt he was gifted by George?How good is our Beatles episode? This Englishman said fab.Steven Cockroft is a partner in a law firm in Belfast. He co-hosts Nothing Is Real, the best Beatles podcast out there. Born in 1963, he grew up firmly believing the 1960s were the Golden Age. In the late 1970s, he sat out the 'punk wars', listening to Bob Dylan, The Beatles and Van Morrison. Hosting the podcast came about after Steven and co-host Jason Carty won the Beatle Brain of Ireland competition. They have interviewed Kevin Godley, Mark Lewisohn and several ex-members of Wings but are best known for their humorous and forensic following of the Fabs and their post-Beatles projects.TwitterTrailerEpisode playlist on AppleEpisode playlist on SpotifyListeners: please subscribe and/or leave a review and a rating.Twitter @isitrollingpodRecorded 25th February 2022This show is part of Pantheon Podcasts

Repasamos la última hora en Ucrania. Los jefes de Estado y de Gobierno de la Unión Europea aprueban un segundo paquete de sanciones a Rusia. Afectan al sector financiero, la energía, los bienes de doble uso, el transporte o los visados. Escuchamos las declaraciones del presidente del Gobierno español, Pedro Sánchez al término de esta reunión con los máximos dirigentes políticos del organismo europeo y las del presidente ucraniano, Volodímir Zelenski. Mientras, el Banco Central de Rusia asegura que “apoyará en lo necesario” a los bancos sancionados por la guerra. Al margen del conflicto en Ucrania, el Ayuntamiento de Madrid convoca para hoy un pleno extraordinario para abordar el presunto intento de espionaje al entorno de la presidenta madrileña, Isabel Díaz Ayuso y el precio de la luz alcanzará hoy su mayor nivel desde mediados de enero. Terminamos con el recuerdo a George Harrison, que este 25 de febrero cumpliría 79 años. Edición · Jorge Quiroga Realización · Susana León See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

PEARL — JANIS JOPLIN ‘I think it is Janis' best album. I think it is possibly my best album. I think it is one of the best records to come out of the sixties! Paul A. Rothchild—Producer (The Doors) ARTISTS include Adele, Travelling Wilburys, Colcannon, Jeff Buckley, Gilly Darbey. Featuring Artists from Peter Crone's Memorial Khristian Mizzi, Glenn Cardier, Enda Kenny, Mike McLennan, Michal Waugh and Danny O'Keefe. SENSATIONAL GUITARISTS include Mark Knopfler, Kirk Lorange, and John Fogarty. COPYCATS ARE COOL CATS! Original Artist — Help! — The Beatles Cover Version - John Farnham James Gee, as in, Gee, If you see me jogging, please kill whatever is chasing me!!

Empezamos la recta final de la temporada con todo, nos visitaron los Camionero apropósito de su gran disco nuevo y las fechas que se vienen, en un lujoso #anderdelasemana Saludamos al cielo a George Harrison a 20 años de su partida con los Travelling Wilburys. Nuestro #discodelasemana es el influyente e hipnótico Remain in light de los Talking Heads. Dj Manija nos puso a bailar con el "nuevo" hit de Quarteto Em Cy (compuesta x Milton Nascimento) y una de Hendrix que siempre viene bien... Dale play!

Spécial 100% Harrison Beatles-Cry for a shadow (instrumental) (Harrison/Lennon)-Anthology 1 (95)Beatles-Chains-Please please me (63)Beatles-You like me too much-Help! (65)Beatles-Don't bother me-With the Beatles (63)G.Harrison-Run so far-Brainwashed (02)Beatles-Circles (Esher demo)-White album (68)G.Harrison-Circles-Gone Troppo (82)G.Harrison-That which I have lost-Somewhere in England (81)G.Harrison-Just for today-Cloud Nine (87)G.Harrison-My sweet Lord (2000 version)-All things must pass (70)G.Harrison-Isn't it a pity-All things must pass (70)G.Harrison-What is life-All things must pass (70)G.Harrison-All things must pass-All things must pass (70)Beatles-While my guitar gently weeps (take 27-third version)-White album (68)Beatles-Here comes the sun-Abbey road (69)Beatles-Think for yourself-Rubber soul (65)G.Harrison-Give me love (give me peace on Earth)-Living in the Material World (73)G.Harrison-Ding dong, ding dong-Dark horse (74)Beatles-I want to tell you-Revolver (66)Travelling Wilburys-New blue moon-Travelling Wilburys vol.2 (90)Travelling Wilburys-Handle wwith care-Travelling Wilburys vol.1 (88)G.Harrison-This guitar (can't keep from crying) (platinum weird version)-Extra texture (read all about it) (75)G.Harrison-See yourself-Thirty three & 1/3 (76)G.Harrison-Dark sweet Lady-George Harrison (79)G.Harrison-Absolutely sweet Marie (live)-Bob Dylan's 30th anniversary Concert (93)P.McCartney-For you blue (live)-Concert for George (03)P.McCartney & E.Clapton-While my guitar gently weeps (live)-Concert for George (03)Eric Clapton and the band-Wah wah (live)-Concert for George (03)Joe Brown-I'll see you in my dreams (live)-Concert for George (03)

Canadian indie music icon Stephen Stanley (Lowest of The Low, Stephen Stanley Band) talks to Paul Romanuk about the 1988 album Travelling Wilburys Vol. I. The album has a Beatles connection, as musical legends Bob Dylan, Roy Orbison, Tom Petty and Jeff Lynne teamed up with former Fab George Harrison. Stephen talks about his love of the record, Bob Dylan and making music with friends and how that can add to the outcome of the record you're making. He also talks about making an album, when he was in Lowest Of The Low, with the man who worked as an engineer on the Wilburys' record - Don Smith. For all things Stephen Stanley, visit his website at https://stephenstanleyband.com (stephenstanleyband.com )

In episode three of Gary Barlow's ‘We Write the Songs' Gary talks to Jeff Lynne. Not only a songwriter, but also producer, sound engineer, instrumentalist and singer. The two discuss the inspiration behind the Electric Light Orchestra, how Lynne works in the studio to achieve his tracks, how the musical ideas are born and how he writes his lyrics. They talk about the importance of chord sequences to his work and how one of Jeff Lynne's most famous songs ‘Mr Blue Sky' came to be. They also discuss Lynne's collaborations and producing successes with ‘The Travelling Wilburys, Roy Orbison and Tom Petty.

Law abiding Travelling Wilbury citizens

This week's episode had it all: Caller questions, tips for evaluating your mortgage breaking options, and classics from the Travelling Wilburys. Our callers each had situations that everyday borrowers can relate to. Being turned away from borrowing more due to being self employed, and needing money to support a small business that is struggling from COVID. So many people have experienced these situations and they are exactly why Cannect exists. Have a listen to hear how Cannect can help. Some key points that we really want to emphasize are: 1.      Even if you know to break your mortgage to save long-term, call us to help reduce your break penalty. Determining whether or not you should break your mortgage is not as hard as you think. It just comes down to one calculation: The amount you would pay in interest on your current mortgage over the rest of the term, minus the amount you'd pay in interest over that time period if you broke it and secured a lower rate, minus the penalty to break your mortgage. This penalty tends to be quite high, and it is usually the factor that prevents people from going through with a mortgage break. If you think that may be the case, still give us a call and see if we can reduce this for you. We have found that over the last ten years, we have been able to engineer a break penalty 20%-25% lower than initial quote from the bank to break it. Those savings go directly into your pocket, no one else's. 2.      Your bank may match a lower rate you get elsewhere, but it will still come at a cost. As soon as the bank offers to reduce your rate to match a competitor, they will factor that discount into the break penalty you'd be charged to get out of it. It's not going down; it's going up to make up for the reduction in their interest income. Big banks are legally allowed to charge higher break penalties than other mortgage lending institutions. Even if they disclosure this to you directly and say that you ‘probably won't have to break', remember that 75% of Canadians break their mortgage before the end of their term. Even if your bank matches the offer you get elsewhere, it will usually come at the cost of a higher break penalty. Breaking your mortgage is always an option to you as a borrower to improve your long-term savings. You can determine the savings yourself based on rates you see online, but give us a call to get that pre-approval and really get that exact savings number. Who knows, maybe we'll even be able to get that penalty reduced to save you even more. 0:00 - Intro 1:38 -  Marcus discusses how the banks make their profits and how you can reduce the amount you pay them. 5:42 - Cannect's approach and goal to helping you as a borrower or an investor, with an example purchase scenario. 13:03 - Marcus discusses how Cannect can price home equity loans through its website and fund within 24 hours when banks turn you away from borrowing more. 20:25 - Borrowers may look to resolve their financial situations now that we are emerging from the pandemic. 24:10 - Justin explains how businesses can get commercial loans, private or through a B lender, if their bank says no. 27:56 - The worst thing banks can do to their borrowers is waste their time. 36:55 - How banks make up for having to match a lower rate from a broker. 39:46 - Important facts about Cannect's investment fund.

The Little Book of Proptech - Julian O'Dell - The man of a hundred shirts David Mintz talks to estate agency trainer extraordinaire Julian O'Dell, star of Kerfuffle Kampus and Marvellous Training Solutions.  We find out where it all began for Julian and discuss all things agency, training, Catfest, Tom Petty, The Travelling Wilburys, Online training Versus In person training, Kerfuffle Kampus, Agree or Disagree? A sartorial taste to rival Simon Whale himself and the one hundred shirt challenge.  All this and much, much, more.  Access to our marvellous online learning platform Kerfuffle Kampus is included in our Kerfuffle agents membership packages. Hurry as our free trial giveaway ends 1st July! So jump on this whilst you still can! https://bit.ly/3wodwBl

This week we play Bangers or Mash? We’re geezing it like The Travelling Wilburys? Plus Jono joined Pfizer gang!

Ger Condren gets severely sidetracked and has ‘Trouble with Emily.’ A young Anthony Lenihan is ‘Mesmerized by a Cart’ waiting for the New York aunties to alight in Shannon.  Anne Kenny packs the aging car to capacity to head off ‘From East to West, I Love You the Best’ and Gill Moses finds endurance to pedal push herself to the limit in ‘Turas na mBan.’   With music by Aimee Mann and Michael Penn, Padraig Mac Niocaill, The Henry Girls & Inisowen Gospel Choir and The Travelling Wilburys.   Mountshannon Arts is funded by the Arts Council of Ireland and Clare Co. Council.

Come and join the Three Track crew for a music #podcast threeway! Sit back, relax, and crack open a cold one (or three) as our trio of hosts Ryan, Liam, and Jake, pick their top 3 favourite tracks from one iconic album in a pub discussion style podcast. Episode 14 brings an indepth look at Supergroups! In part one of a new trilogy the first supergroup to get the Three Track treatment is The Travelling Wilburys and their album "Vol 1". Is Roy Orbison really a superhero? Will it be the "End of the line" for one track, and will it receive the dreaded Breeg pick?! Where Three minds are better than one... Join the #discussion and get in touch at ; http://www.threetrackpod.com https://www.facebook.com/Threetrackmindpod https://www.instagram.com/threetrackmindpod/  

The guys bring back an old guest as a emergency replacement due to some unforeseen circumstances and just talk about a lot of music. They cover Tom Petty's Wildflowers, The Travelling Wilburys, Full Moon Fever, Tom Petty concerts and others they have attended, how to be a guest, Big Star, new music we're listening to and an idea for an all covers song episode.

We watched this doc - https://www.imdb.com/title/tt3614126/ on Clapton in the 70s, and thought we'd try and get to the bottom of it all. Funny stuff.

What is Prosilience, and how can organisations ensure their people provide it? That's where the discussion between my guests on this episode, Gerald Ashley and Rory Sutherland, begins. Where it goes from there, is a joyous adventure in which two great thinkers explore a range of Human Risk related topics. * Listener Warning: the episode contains adult language * This episode is the 100th in the Human Risk podcast series and is a continuation of a discussion which began in the 99th episode. I recommend listening to that first before exploring this one.You'll find my earlier discussion with Rory here: https://www.podpage.com/the-human-risk-podcast/rory-sutherland-on-compliance/and Gerald here: https://www.podpage.com/the-human-risk-podcast/gerald-ashley-on-uncertainty/As with the previous episode, I'm providing more detailed show notes given the breadth and depth of issues covered. 05:18 Rory refers to Seeing Like A State by James C Scott. More on that here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seeing_Like_a_State05:54 Gerald talks about the metrics used to measure Soviet bicycle manufacturing. This article doesn't feature bicycles, but covers the idea and features a wonderful cartoon from a Soviet magazine: https://econlife.com/2015/08/the-incentives-that-metrics-create/09:32 Rory talks about his appearance on Bloomberg TV. You can watch that here: https://www.bloomberg.com/news/videos/2015-03-25/advertisers-becoming-too-obsessed-with-tech-sutherland11:50 Rory mentions Rod Liddell in the context of a story about the BBC's travel policy. To learn more about Rod: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rod_Liddle12:34 Gerald mentions Peter Turchin, who Rory explains is a Cliodynamicist. You'll find Peter's website here: http://peterturchin.com/ and a guide to Cliodynamics one that website here: http://peterturchin.com/cliodynamics/14:10 A rare intervention by me to mention David Graber's book Bullshit Jobs - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bullshit_Jobs14:30 Rory refers to 14th Century Middle Eastern Historian Ibn Khaldoun - https://www.britannica.com/biography/Ibn-Khaldun15:04 Gerald talks about The Great Wave by David Hackett Fischer - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Great_Wave_(book)18:25 Rory talks about Daniel Kahneman's research into risk appetites of CEOs and division heads. You can read more about that in this HBR article: https://hbr.org/2020/03/your-company-is-too-risk-averse19:40 Gerald talks about the Lockheed Martin Skunkworks. You can read about the history of that unit here https://www.lockheedmartin.com/en-us/news/features/history/skunk-works.html and its current role here: https://www.lockheedmartin.com/en-us/who-we-are/business-areas/aeronautics/skunkworks.html22:59 Gerald talks about Nudgestock, the annual Behavioural Science festival hosted by Rory. You can read about that here: https://www.nudgestock.co.uk/The presentation he refers to is by Jules Goddard called The Fatal Bias and can be seen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oNlzl37GLdA 24:46 Rory highlights the story of mathematician's Abraham Wald intervention in the Second World War. It is explained in this excerpt from Jordan Ellenberg's excellent How Not To Be Wrong: https://medium.com/@penguinpress/an-excerpt-from-how-not-to-be-wrong-by-jordan-ellenberg-664e708cfc3d25:56 Rory talks about IBM's Thomas Watson and his desire to have Wild Geese. In actual fact, Watson talked about Wild Ducks (https://www.mbiconcepts.com/watson-sr-and-wild-ducks.html). Interestingly, the Duck story actually comes from an original fable by Søren Kierkegaard about a Wild Goose. For some reason Watson preferred Ducks! You can read the Kierkegaard story here: https://www.maxelon.co.uk/2015/01/domestic-geese/26:18 Rory refers to James C Scott's idea of an Anarchist's Squint. You can read more about that in his collection of essays called Two Cheers for Anarchism: https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/james-c-scott-two-cheers-for-anarchism32:33 Gerald talks about how the British government sold Rolls Royce engines to the Russian government. You can read about that here: https://nationalinterest.org/blog/the-buzz/how-british-turbojet-allowed-russias-mig-15-fight-the-air-2638532:50 Rory explains how penicillin was passed by America to supposedly neutral countries during World War Two, against British instructions. It ended up saving Adolf Hitler's life after a bomb plot on 20th July 1940. More on the research behind that here: https://www.sheffield.ac.uk/news/nr/154-1.17501840:05 Rory references British supergroup The Travelling Wilburys. Find out who they are here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Traveling_Wilburys. You can hear them on Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/artist/2hO4YtXUFJiUYS2uYFvHNK?si=eqMFhifpSIai03kZPFHOVQ

Day 22 of the This Is Our Everest Advent calendar sees Edward and Ian join Chas and Dave for their 1982 Christmas Knees-up. It is a programme that acts as a salve on both of your heroes' battle-scarred psyches and also one which allows Ian to expand upon his sitcom-worthy childhood family Christmases in North London (or Tier 4, as it is now better known).Expect pianos to be wheeled in and beer barrels to be breached by people who didn't really know which end was up. There's also thoughts on the career trajectory of Eric Clapton, the correct way to woo Patti Boyd and speculation as to the official line of succession to get into The Travelling Wilburys. If you'd like to watch Chas & Dave (and you probably should), you can find it here. For those of you who haven't had enough over-exaggerated Cockneyism, tomorrow's podcast will be on the 1971 Please, Sir! Christmas episode. There’s a bunch of different ways in which you can subscribe to the 200% podcast. You can do so through Spotify, which you can find right here, whilst the podcast RSS feed is here and you can subscribe through Itunes here. And finally, a humble request. These podcasts take a lot of effort to write, record and release, and we would be extremely grateful for your financial support, in whatever way you can manage. We have our Redbubble shop, for the sartorially minded amongst you, and subscribe through joining us on Patreon. We even now have a Kofi button on the site, so do feel free to send us whatever you’re able to. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Kooloo Limpah! Holy hell, we've got a massive, moon-sized episode bearing down on you this week. We're talking about LEGEND OF ZELDA: MAJORA'S MASK, a game so huge and divisive and complex that we needed to assemble a whole Travelling Wilburys of podcasters just to cover it! We're joined once again by ZELDA superfan Caleb Sanders, and all three hosts of the amazing Vidjagame Apocalypse podcast: Mikel Reparaz, Chris Antista, and Matthew Allen! In addition to our huge discussion, we also have some very exciting new about the future of the show, and a whole suite of awesome letters from listeners. Don't miss this one!  Hosted by Steve Guntli and Woody Ciskowski  Logo by Steve Guntli / Updated logo by Barry Shaw  Theme song: "Truck" by The Octopus Project (theoctopusproject.com)  ultra64podcast.com  Twitter: @ultra64podcast  Email: ultra64podcast@gmail.com  Instagram: @ultra64podcast  Patreon: patreon.com/ultra64pod  Next week's episode: Beetle Adventure Racing / Re-Volt / Stunt Racer 64 

Hace 70 años nació Tom Petty... Seguimos sin hacernos a la idea de haber perdido a uno de los mayores creadores del rock de todos los tiempos. Aquí un pequeño homenaje que incluye su carrera en solitario, con los Heartbreakers de Mike Campbell y Benmont Tench, los Travelling Wilburys como Muddy Wilbury o Charlie T. Wilbury, con Mudcrutch, sus primeros compis, e incluso escuchando sus canciones en voces de grandes mujeres como Linda Ronstadt, Stevie Nicks, Maria McKee o Carmen Boza. DISCO 1 MUDCRUTCH June Apple (10) California DISCO 2 TOM PETTY California (SHE’S THE ONE - 10) DISCO 3 TRAVELLING WILBURYS Last Night (Cd 1 - 4) DISCO 4A LADIES & GENTLEMEN… Even The Losers (ALMOST - 18) avanzado 55 segs DISCO 4B TOM PETTY & The Heartbreakers Even The Losers (THE LIVE ANTHOLOGY Cd 1 - 3) DISCO 5 TOM PETTY & The Heartbreakers You Got Lucky (SPOILED & MISTREATED - 1) DISCO 6 TOM PETTY & The Heartbreakers Stop Draggin' My Heart Around [Demo] (THROUGH THE CRACKS - 10) DISCO 7 TOM PETTY & The Heartbreakers Wildflowers (THE LIVE ANTHOLOGY Cd 2 - 3) DISCO 8 LINDA RONSTADT The Waiting (1) DISCO 9 LONE JUSTICE Ways To Be Wicked (Cara 1 Corte ) DISCO 10 STEVIE NICKS & TOM PETTY & The Heartbreakers I Will Run To You (Cd 1 - 7) DISCO 11 CARMEN BOZA Free Fallin’ (ALMOST - 17) TOM PETTY INTERVIEW (17) DISCO 12 MUDCRUTCH Don't Do Me Like That (THROUGH THE CRACKS - 4) DISCO 13 MUDCRUTCH Shady Grove (1) DISCO 14 TOM PETTY & The Heartbreakers Breakdown (TOM PETTY & THE HEARTBREAKERS - 2) DISCO 15 TOM PETTY All Right For Now (FULL MOON FEVER Cara 1 Corte 5) Escuchar audio

On this week's episode, Mike reveals he's got a "thing" for french horns and Bob's storytelling faces off against the legendary tales of the Travelling Wilburys. Don't miss another great week of songs that give us the shivers they are so good. For a Spotify playlist of the great music featured on this podcast check out this link or click the individual song YouTube links below: "Solsbury Hill" - Peter Gabriel "The Boys Of Summer" - Don Henley "Tweeter And The Monkey Man" - The Traveling Wilburys "Please Forgive Me" - David Gray "The Night And I Are Still So Young" - The Heavy Blinkers "The River" - AURORA "Disco 2000" - Pulp "Forever Young" - Alphaville "No One's Gonna Love You (Quite Like I Do)" - Jenn Grant "Here I Am" - Dolly Parton ft. Sia

Antes de ayer, jueves, 24 de septiembre, TOMA UNO cumplía exactamente 47 años desde su primer programa. Y esta vez lo celebramos ya comenzada la temporada número 48. Y lo queremos hacer rodeados de amigos. Nos encanta celebrar aniversarios. Estamos muy orgullosos de cumplir años haciendo lo de siempre: radio. Es un privilegio. Además, es una de las mejores maneras de manifestar públicamente el respeto y el agradecimiento hacia quienes estáis a nuestro lado. Tener memoria siempre es bueno. Y pensamos conservarla y compartirla. "Era mucho mayor entonces. Soy más joven ahora". Así podíamos escuchar en “My Back Pages”, una canción grabada en la primavera de 1964 por Bob Dylan para su álbum de aquel mismo año Another Side Of Bob Dylan. Lo hizo con el título provisional de “Ancient Memories” y acompañándose exclusivamente de su guitarra con una melodía original muy parecida a "The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll" de su disco anterior. Para abrir nuestro programa de hoy hemos querido recordarla en directo durante 1992 en la conmemoración de los primeros 30 años de la carrera del bardo. Una versión en la que intervenían por orden de aparición: Roger McGuinn, Tom Petty, Neil Young, Eric Clapton, el propio Dylan y George Harrison. Pura Americana. Lloyd Green y Jay Dee Maness, dos de los más grandes instrumentistas de steel guitar, intervinieron en distintas canciones de un álbum de los Byrds titulado Sweetheart of the Rodeo, convertido en la quinta esencia del country rock en 1968. Cuando se cumplió el medio siglo de su publicación, los dos resucitaron conjuntamente aquel disco seminal bajo el nombre de Journey to the Beginning: A Steel Guitar Tribute to the Byrds, una recreación instrumental canción a canción de las 11 que formaron Sweetheart of the Rodeo… pero con un añadido; y es que su tema de cierre fue esta versión del que fuera tema de apertura "You Ain’t Goin 'Nowhere", la legendaria composición de Bob Dylan. Para la ocasión contaron con las voces de Jim Lauderdale, Jeff Hanna de la Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Richie Furay de Buffalo Springfield y Poco, y Herb Pedersen de la Desert Rose Band, además de la mandolina de Sam Bush. El día en que se cumplió el primer aniversario de la muerte de “el Beatle tranquilo” tenía lugar en el Royal Albert Hall de Londres un concierto homenaje a su figura y su música dirigido por uno de sus grandes amigos, Eric Clapton. Al año siguiente veía la luz Concert for George: A Celebration of the Life and Music of George Harrison donde Tom Petty, viejo compañero de George Harrison en los Travelling Wilburys, recordaba “I Need You”, un corte de Help!, el quinto álbum en la discografía de los Beatles. En la versión original de "I Need You" Harrison se desperezaba como compositor y aparecía incluso como cantante solista, además de demostrar sus habilidades como guitarrista. En 1994, dentro del proyecto Red Hot + Country para luchar contra el SIDA, Suzy Bogguss, Alison Krauss y Kathy Mattea unieron sus voces con las de Crosby, Stills & Nash para realizar esta versión antológica de un clásico tan significativo como “Teach Your Children”, que había sido grabado a finales de Octubre de 1969 por aquel supergrupo nacido en las colinas de Laurel Canyon, con la incorporación de Neil Young, para que formara parte del álbum Déjà Vu. Una canción pacifista creada por Graham Nash a la que Stephen Stills incorporó un medio tiempo de country con el añadido del steel guitar de Jerry Garcia, líder de Grateful Dead. Con la introducción original de voz y guitarra de su creador, Kris Kristofferson, y el impecable arrope instrumental de Byron House, Sam Bush, Jon Randall y Randy Scruggs, Emmylou Harris cantaba “The Pilgrim (Chapter 33)” del veterano e influyente cantante y compositor, además de actor. Formó parte de The Silver Tongued Devil And I, el segundo álbum del tejano publicado en 1971. Garth Brooks tuvo una especial significación en la década de los 90, rompiendo casi todas las barreras que la country music había tenido hasta entonces. Criticado hasta la extenuación por los defensores de la supuesta pureza, se retiró de la primera línea durante demasiados años, aunque nunca abandonó del todo. Su regreso oficial no le ha devuelto la popularidad de entonces, pero sigue dejando momentos muy brillantes. Hace siete años lanzó la caja de ocho discos Blame it All on My Roots: Five Decades of Influences. Además de dos CDS recopilando sus éxitos, un DVD con 33 de sus vídeos y otro con su show de Las Vegas que llamó The Ultimate Hits, incluía cuatro CDs con sus canciones favoritas entre las que encontramos “Amie”, un clásico imperdible de la Pure Prairie League, que formó parte de Bustin' Out, un año antes de que comenzara TOMA UNO, y se editó en single en 1975 a instancias de Lenny Kaye, guitarrista de Patti Smith. En 1970, la Nitty Gritty Dirt Band lanzó el álbum Uncle Charlie & His Dog Teddy, una mezcla serena y reposada de country con el folk de California, donde aparecía una luminosa versión del clásico de Jerry Jeff Walker "Mr. Bojangles". Cuando se cumplieron 38 años de aquella grabación, el grupo resucitó el tema con la incorporación de dos artistas compañeros de sello discográfico: Keith Urban y Dierks Bentley. Seguimos con canciones que son fundamentales en la historia de la música. Siempre, con la ayuda de los amigos… Por eso hemos recordado que han pasado 50 años desde que James Taylor publicara su segundo álbum en solitario Sweet Baby James, el que definitivamente impulsó su carrera y determinó un futuro como contador de historias que le ha convertido en un puntal de la Americana. La brillantez de James Taylor se pone de manifiesto en cada uno de sus trabajos, aunque casi todos vienen a coincidir en que Sweet Baby James es el que mejor describe sus formas estilísticas, una vez se hubo afincado en California. Pero no olvidemos que su debut en solitario llegó en 1969 con un álbum homónimo grabado para Apple Records con el apoyo de los propios Beatles. El, por ejemplo, los recordó en directo en este curiosa versión de “With A Little Help From My Friends”, que llevó a su propio terreno desde aquel Sgt. Pepper seminal de 1967. La pandemia ha provocado el aislamiento de muchos, pero han sido muchos artistas de Americana los que han procurado mantener el contacto con su gente gracias a las redes sociales. La familia Nelson ha sido de las más activas. Lukas, por ejemplo, ha instaurado sus Quarantunes Evening Session. La semana pasada, colgaba en su canal de YouTube una versión entrañable de “September Song” con The Promise Of The Real, donde milita su hermano Micah, y contando con su padre, Willie, tocando su inseparable Trigger. “September Song” es un estándar de los años 30 debido a la inspiración de Kurt Weill y Maxwell Anderson convertido en uno de los favoritos de Willie Nelson y que este incluyó en su álbum Stardust. En 1959 los Four Flickers dieron a conocer “Long Tall Texan”, una canción de Henry Strzelecki, uno de los miembros de este grupo de Birmingham, en Alabama, que se inició en el country y pasó al doo-woop de. Por eso no resulta extraño que los Beach Boys la incorporarán a su álbum Beach Boys Concert en el 64. Lo que resultó más sorprendente es que la eligieran 32 años más tarde para interpretarla en Stars and Stripes, Vol. 1, un disco que grabaron con artistas cercanos a Nashville. Así lo hicieron junto a Doug Supernaw, un tejano de Houston que se trasladó a la Music City a finales de los 80, debutando en 1993 con el álbum Red And Rio Grande, un disco equilibrado entre canciones propias y algunas otras de los compositores básicos de aquellos años. Arkie Shibley and His Mountain Dew Boys grabaron en 1950 “Hot Rod Race”, un tema que cinco años después se convertiría en “Hot Rod Lincoln”, cuando Charley Ryan & The Livingston Bros la editaron en Souvenir Records. Commander Cody & His Lost Planet Airmen, una formación favorita desde los comienzos de TOMA UNO, la grabó en el 71 para su álbum Lost In The Ozone y Asleep At The Wheel la enmarcaron en Western Standard Time, otro de esos discos imprescindibles para viajar por carretera. Pero hoy hemos recurrido a 1993 cuando el actor Jim Varney, un nativo de Lexington, en Kentucky, y Ricky Skaggs la actualizaron para la banda sonora de la película The Beverly Hillbilies, que llevó al cine la serie televisiva. Varney, que murió en 2000, hizo el papel de Jed Clampett. Tras la ruptura de los Eagles, se había comentado que Don Henley y Glenn Frey habían vuelto a trabajar juntos para rescatar algunas canciones inéditas de la formación de cara a un enésimo disco de éxitos y que, incluso, se podría hablar de un regreso del grupo. Esos rumores no pasaron de ahí. En pleno 1993, 20 años después de comenzar TOMA UNO, Don Henley e Irving Azoff, presidente de Giant Records, se pusieron a trabajar en un antiguo proyecto del batería. Consistía en que algunos de los artistas de country más populares por entonces se reunieran en un álbum interpretando versiones de los éxitos de los Eagles. El 40% de los royalties estarían destinados al proyecto Walden Woods, que Henley estableció en 1990 para proteger la tierra alrededor de Concord, en Massachusetts, donde Henry David Thoreau escribió el clásico Walden. El resultado fue Common Thread: The Songs Of The Eagles, un disco imprescindible que fue premiado por la CMA como álbum del año. En diciembre se estrenaba un video protagonizado por Travis Tritt en el que se reunía con la banda al completo para una nueva versión de "Take It Easy". Así se inició oficialmente su reunión. Así cerramos esta vez nuestra celebración de un aniversario más. Pensamos seguir contando. Escuchar audio

Un placer para los fetichistas-coleccionistas esa reedición en vinilo de toda la discografía de PJ Harvey. Ya les ha tocado a "Dry" y "Rid of me" y lo próximo será el álbum que tiene dentro "Down by the water" con el fetiche de versiones alternativas de aquella grabación de 1995 que suenan tan bien como la que se quedó de definitva en el caso del mencionado tema estelar. Noticia del día al lado de la escucha de la banda sonora de la quinta y última entrega de la serie ("La que se nos viene encima") ideada por Jota Armijos a propósito de la incidencia de la crisis de salud en el mundo de la música y con la mirada también puesta en los héroes sanitarios. Además sabemos que Ellie Goulding ya tiene aquí su cuarto álbum "Brightest blue" que ha dividido en dos partes en cuanto a la temática por letra (llegando a mujer y decisión y atrevimiento), que Courtney Barnett ha mostrado algo de su siguiente trabajo en una radio australiana y que Skin de Skunk Anansie tiene lista biografía que sale en septiembre. En "Takes bloods & guts" contará lo que es ser mujer, negra y gay en el mundo del rock y sus difíciles comienzos. Novedades internacionales se llevaron la palma. Como el undécimo disco de una premiada por el mundo de la americana como Lori Mackenna, otro anticipo de lo próximo de Diana Demuth, un tema flamante con colaboración de Walter de The Walkmen de Matt Berninger, la colaboración especial que se ha buscado Joesef en el hiphopero Loyle Carner y más canciones cantadas en español por Mavericks. En la recta final la colección de Nike de zapatillas de colores (amarillo, verde y naranja) inspiradas en los osos bailongos que aparecen en la contraportada del "Bear´s choice" de Grateful Dead y el apoyo de Ringo Starr a su amigo Paul McCartney en una remozada versión de "Beautiful night". Y en la primera hora sonaron discos de 1988: Travelling Wilburys, Melissa Etheridge, Tracy Chapman, Fairground Atraction, Eight Wonder, Smithereens, Proclaimers, Hothouse flowers, Ha, Voice of the Behieve, Morrissey, Sugarcubes y Transvision Vamp. Un placer para los fetichistas-coleccionistas esa reedición en vinilo de toda la discografía de PJ Harvey. Ya les ha tocado a "Dry" y "Rid of me" y lo próximo será el álbum que tiene dentro "Down by the water" con el fetiche de versiones alternativas de aquella grabación de 1995 que suenan tan bien como la que se quedó de definitva en el caso del mencionado tema estelar. Noticia del día al lado de la escucha de la banda sonora de la quinta y última entrega de la serie ("La que se nos viene encima") ideada por Jota Armijos a propósito de la incidencia de la crisis de salud en el mundo de la música y con la mirada también puesta en los héroes sanitarios. Además sabemos que Ellie Goulding ya tiene aquí su cuarto álbum "Brightest blue" que ha dividido en dos partes en cuanto a la temática por letra (llegando a mujer y decisión y atrevimiento), que Courtney Barnett ha mostrado algo de su siguiente trabajo en una radio australiana y que Skin de Skunk Anansie tiene lista biografía que sale en septiembre. En "Takes bloods & guts" contará lo que es ser mujer, negra y gay en el mundo del rock y sus difíciles comienzos. Novedades internacionales se llevaron la palma. Como el undécimo disco de una premiada por el mundo de la americana como Lori Mackenna, otro anticipo de lo próximo de Diana Demuth, un tema flamante con colaboración de Walter de The Walkmen de Matt Berninger, la colaboración especial que se ha buscado Joesef en el hiphopero Loyle Carner y más canciones cantadas en español por Mavericks. En la recta final la colección de Nike de zapatillas de colores (amarillo, verde y naranja) inspiradas en los osos bailongos que aparecen en la contraportada del "Bear´s choice" de Grateful Dead y el apoyo de Ringo Starr a su amigo Paul McCartney en una remozada versión de "Beautiful night". Y en la primera hora sonaron discos de 1988: Travelling Wilburys, Melissa Etheridge, Tracy Chapman, Fairground Atraction, Eight Wonder, Smithereens, Proclaimers, Hothouse flowers, Ha, Voice of the Behieve, Morrissey, Sugarcubes y Transvision Vamp. Escuchar audio

Episode ninety of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at "Runaway" by Del Shannon, and at the early use of synthesised sound in rock music. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode.   Patreon backers also have a ten-minute bonus episode available, on "Blue Moon" by the Marcels. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt's irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ ----more---- A note Almost every version of “Runaway” currently available is in stereo, and the stereo version of the song has a slightly different vocal take to the original mono version. Unfortunately, there appear to be multiple “original mono versions” too. To check that what I'm using here, a mono track available as a bonus on a reissue of the album Runaway With Del Shannon, is actually the hit single version, I downloaded two vinyl rips of the single and one vinyl rip of a mono hits compilation from the sixties that had been uploaded to YouTube. Unfortunately no two copies of the song I could find online would play in synch – they all appear to be mastered at slightly different speeds, possibly due to the varispeeding I talk about in the episode. I've gone with the version I did because it's a clean-sounding mono version, but it may not be exactly what people heard in 1961. Resources As always, I've created a Mixcloud streaming playlist with full versions of all the songs in the episode. This one is in two parts because of the number of songs by Del Shannon in the mix. Part one, part two. Only one biography of Del Shannon has ever been written, and that's out of print and (to judge from the Amazon reviews) not very well written, so I've relied again on other sources. Those include the liner notes to this CD, a good selection of Shannon's work (with the proviso that "Runaway" is in stereo -- see above; the articles on Shannon and Max Crook on This Is My Story, the official Del Shannon website,  and the Internet Archive's cached copy of Max Crook's old website. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them?   Transcript Today's episode is an odd one to write, as just as I put the finishing touches to the script I discovered that Max Crook, the keyboard player at the centre of this story, died less than two weeks ago. The news wasn't widely reported, and I only discovered this by double-checking a detail and discovering an obituary of him. Crook was one of the great early pioneers of electronic music, and a massive talent, and he's a big part of the story I'm telling today, so before we go into the story proper I just wanted to take a moment to acknowledge his passing, and to regret that it hasn't been more widely noted. One of the things we've not talked about much in this podcast so far is the technology of music. We've discussed it a bit -- we've looked at how things like the change from 78s to 45s affected the music industry, at the transition from recording on discs to recording on tape, at the electrification of the guitar, and at Les Paul's inventions. But in general, the music we've looked at has been made in a fairly straightforward manner -- some people with some combination of guitars, bass, piano, drums, and saxophone, and maybe a few string players on the most recent recordings, get together in front of a microphone and sing and play those instruments. But today, we're going to look at the start of synthesisers being used in rock and roll music. Today we're going to look at "Runaway" by Del Shannon: [Excerpt: Del Shannon, "Runaway"] Synthesised sound has a far longer pedigree than you might expect. The use of electronics to create music goes back to the invention of the theremin and the ondes martenot in the 1920s, and by the 1930s, people had already started using polyphonic keyboard-based electronic instruments. The Novachord was produced by the Hammond organ company between 1938 and 1942, and was introduced at the World's Fair in 1939, where Ferdinand Grofe, who we talked about a little in the episode on "Cathy's Clown", led a group consisting only of Novachord players in a public performance. The Novachord never achieved mass popularity because of World War II halting its production, but it was still used in a few recordings. One that's of particular interest to those of us interested in early rock and roll is Slim Gaillard's "Novachord Boogie": [Excerpt: Slim Gaillard, "Novachord Boogie"] But also it was used on one of the most famous records of the late thirties. These days, when you hear "We'll Meet Again" by Vera Lynn on documentaries about the second world war, this is the version you hear: [Excerpt: Vera Lynn, "We'll Meet Again"] But the record that people actually listened to in World War II didn't have any of that orchestration. It was Lynn accompanied by a single instrument, a Novachord played by Arthur Young, and is notably more interesting and less syrupy: [Excerpt: Vera Lynn with Arthur Young on Novachord, "We'll Meet Again"] So even in the late thirties, synthesised sounds were making their way on to extremely popular recordings, but it wasn't until after the war that electronic instruments started getting used in a major way. And the most popular of those instruments was a monophonic keyboard instrument called the clavioline, which was first produced in 1947. The clavioline was mostly used as a novelty element, but it appeared on several hit records. We're going to devote a whole episode in a few months' time to a record with the clavioline as lead instrument, but you can hear it on several fifties novelty records, like "Little Red Monkey" by Frank Chacksfield's Tunesmiths, a UK top ten hit from 1953: [Excerpt: Frank Chacksfield's Tunesmiths, "Little Red Monkey"] But while the clavioline itself was in use quite widely in the fifties, the first big rock and roll hit with an electronic synthesiser actually used a modified clavioline called a musitron, which was put together by an electronics amateur and keyboard player named Max Crook, from Ann Arbor, Michigan. Crook had built his musitron using a clavioline as a base, but adding parts from TVs, reel-to-reel recorders, and bits of whatever electronic junk he could salvage parts from. He'd started playing electronic instruments in his teens, and had built his own recording studio. Sadly, the early records Crook made are not easily available. The only place I've been able to track down copies of his early singles in a digital format is one grey-market CD, which I wasn't able to obtain in time to include the tracks here and which only seems to be available from one shop in Cornwall. His first band, the White Bucks, released a single, "Get That Fly" backed with "Orny", on Dot Records, but I can tell you from experience that if you search anywhere online for "White Bucks Orny" you will find... well, not that record, anyway. Even more interestingly, he apparently recorded a version of "Bumble Boogie", the novelty instrumental that would later become a hit for B. Bumble and the Stingers, with Berry Gordy at some point in the late fifties. Sadly, that too is not generally available. But it wasn't until he auditioned for Charlie Johnson and the Big Little Show Band that Max Crook met the people who were going to become his most important collaborators. The Big Little Show Band had started as Doug DeMott and The Moonlight Ramblers, a honky-tonk band that played at the Hi-Lo Club in Battle Creek, Michigan. Battle Creek is a company town, midway between Chicago and Detroit, which is most famous as being the headquarters of the Kellogg company, the cereal manufacturer and largest employer there. It's not somewhere you'd expect great rock and roll to come from, being as it is a dull medium-sized town with little in the way of culture or nightlife. The Hi-Lo Club was a rough place, frequented by hard-working, hard-drinking people, and Doug DeMott had been a hard drinker himself -- so hard a drinker, in fact, that he was soon sacked. The group's rhythm guitarist, Charles Westover, had changed his name to Charlie Johnson and put together a new lineup of the group based around himself and the bass player, Loren Dugger. They got in a new drummer, Dick Parker, and then went through a couple of guitarists before deciding to hire a keyboard player instead. Once they auditioned Crook, with his musitron, which he could clip to the piano and thus provide chordal piano accompaniment while playing a lead melody on his musitron, they knew they had the right player for them. Crook had a friend, a black DJ named Ollie McLaughlin, who had music industry connections, and had been involved in the White Bucks recordings. Crook and Johnson started writing songs and recording demos for McLaughlin, who got Johnson a session with Irving Micahnik and Harry Balk, two record producers who were working with Johnny and the Hurricanes, an instrumental group who'd had a big hit with "Red River Rock" a year or so previously: [Excerpt: Johnny and the Hurricanes, "Red River Rock"] Johnson recorded two songs in New York, without his normal musicians backing him. However, Micahnik and Balk thought that the tracks were too dirgey, and Johnson was singing flat -- and listening to them it's not hard to see why they thought that: [Excerpt: Del Shannon, "The Search"] They told him to go back and come up with some more material that was less dirgey. Two things did come out of the association straight away, though. The first was that Charles Johnson changed his name again, combining a forename he chose to be reminiscent of the Cadillac Coup deVille with a surname he took from an aspiring wrestler he knew, Mark Shannon, to become Del Shannon. The second was that Johnny and the Hurricanes recorded one of Max Crook's instrumentals, "Mr Lonely", as a B-side, and you can hear in the Hammond organ part the kind of part that Crook would have been playing on his Musitron: [Excerpt: Johnny and the Hurricanes, "Mr Lonely"] Shannon and Crook recorded a tape of many other songs they were working on for McLaughlin to play to Micahnik and Balk, but they weren't interested -- until they heard a fragment of a song that Shannon and Crook had recorded, and which they'd then mostly taped over. That song, "Runaway", was the one they wanted. "Runaway" had been an idea that had happened almost by accident. The band had been jamming on stage, and Crook had hit a chord change that Shannon thought sounded interesting -- in later tellings of the story, this is always the Am-G chord change that opens the song, but I suspect the actual chord change that caught his ear was the one where they go to an E major chord rather than the expected G or E minor on the line “As our hearts were young”. That's the only truly unusual chord change in the song. But whatever it was, Shannon liked the changes that Crook was playing -- he and Crook would both later talk about how bored he was with the standard doo-wop progression that made up the majority of the songs they were playing at the time -- and the band ended up jamming on the new chord sequence for fifteen or twenty minutes before the club owner told them to play something else. The next day, Shannon took his guitar to the carpet shop where he worked, and when there were no customers in, he would play the song to himself and write lyrics. He initially wrote two verses, but decided to scrap one. They performed the song, then titled "My Little Runaway", that night, and it became a regular part of their set. The crucial element in the song, though, came during that first performance. Shannon said, just before they started, "Max, when I point to you, play something". And so when Shannon got to the end of the chorus, he pointed, and Crook played this: [Excerpt: Del Shannon, "Runaway"] When they were told that Micahnik and Balk liked the fragment of song that they'd heard, Shannon and Crook recorded a full demo of the song and sent it on to them. The producers weren't hugely impressed with the finished song, saying they thought it sounded like three songs trying to coexist, and they also didn't like Shannon's voice, but they *did* like Crook and the Musitron, and so they invited Crook and Shannon to come to New York to record. The two men drove seven hundred miles in a broken-down car, with their wives, to get from Michigan to New York. It was the middle of winter, the car had no heating, and Shannon smoked while Crook was allergic to tobacco smoke, so they had to keep the windows open. The session they were going to do was a split session -- they were going to record two Del Shannon vocal tracks, and two instrumentals by Crook, who was recording under the name "Maximilian" without a surname (though the "Max" in his name was actually short for Maxfield). Crook was definitely the one they were interested in -- he rearranged the way the microphones were arranged in the studio, to get the sound he wanted rather than the standard studio sound, and he also had a bag full of gadgets that the studio engineers were fascinated by, for altering the Musitron's sound. The first single released as by "Maximilian" was "The Snake", which featured Crook and Shannon's wives on handclaps, along with an additional clapper who was found on the street and paid forty dollars to come in and clap along: [Excerpt: Maximilian, "The Snake"] After that, the two women got bored and wandered off down Broadway. They eventually found themselves in the audience for a TV game show, Beat the Clock, and Joann Crook ended up a contestant on the show -- their husbands didn't believe them, when they explained later where they'd been, until acquaintances mentioned having seen Joann on TV. Meanwhile, the two men were working on another Maximillian track, and on two Del Shannon tracks, one of which was "Runaway". They couldn't afford to stay overnight in New York, so they drove back to Michigan, but when the record company listened to "Runaway", they discovered that Shannon had been singing flat due to nerves. Shannon had to go back to New York, this time by plane, to rerecord his vocals. According to Crook, even this wasn't enough, and the engineers eventually had to varispeed his vocals to get them in key with the backing track. I'm not at all sure how this would have worked, as speeding up his vocals would have also meant that he was singing at a different tempo, but that's what Crook said, and the vocal does have a slightly different quality to it. And Harry Balk backed Crook up, saying "We finally got Del on key, and it sounded great, but it didn't sound like Del. We mixed it anyhow, and it came out wonderful. When I brought Ollie and Del into my office to hear it, Del had a bit of a fit. He said, 'Harry, that doesn't even sound like me!' I just remember saying, 'Yeah but Del, nobody knows what the hell you sound like!" Like most great records, "Runaway" was the sum of many parts. Shannon later broke down all the elements that went into the song, saying: "I learned falsetto from The Ink Spots' 'We Three,'": [Excerpt: The Ink Spots, "We Three (My Echo, My Shadow, and Me)"] "I eventually got hooked on Jimmy Jones' 'Handy Man' in '59 and would sing that at the Hi-Lo Club.": [Excerpt: Jimmy Jones, "Handy Man"] "I always had the idea of 'running away' somewhere in the back of my mind. 'I wa-wa-wa-wa-wonder, why...' I borrowed from Dion & The Belmonts' 'I Wonder Why.'" [Excerpt: Dion and the Belmonts, "I Wonder Why"] "The beats you hear in there, '...I wonder, bam-bam-bam, I wa-wa...' I stole from Bobby Darin's 'Dream Lover.'" [Excerpt: Bobby Darin, "Dream Lover"] Listening to the song, you can definitely hear all those elements that Shannon identifies in there, but what emerges is something fresh and original, unlike anything else out at the time: [Excerpt: Del Shannon, "Runaway"] "Runaway" went to number one in almost every country that had a chart at the time, and top five in most of the rest. In America, the song it knocked off the top was "Blue Moon" by the Marcels, one of those songs with the doo-wop progression that Shannon had been so bored with. At its peak, it was selling eighty thousand copies a day, and Billboard put it at number three hundred and sixty four on the all-time charts in 2018. It was a massive success, and a game-changer in the music industry. Maximilian's single, on the other hand, only made the top forty in Argentina. Clearly, Del Shannon was the artist who was going to be worth following, but they did release a few more singles by Maximilian, things like "The Twisting Ghost": [Excerpt: Maximilian, "The Twisting Ghost"] That made the Canadian top forty, but Maximilian never became a star in his own right. Shannon, on the other hand, recorded a string of hits, though none were as successful as "Runaway". The most successful was the follow-up, "Hats off to Larry", which was very much "Runaway part 2": [Excerpt: Del Shannon, "Hats off to Larry"] But every single he released after that was slightly less successful than the one before. He soon stopped working with Crook, who remained at the Hi-Lo Club with the rest of the band while Shannon toured the country, and without Crook's Musitron playing his records were far less interesting than his earliest singles, though he did have the distinction of being one of the few singers of this era to write the bulk of his own material. He managed to further sabotage his career by suing Micahnik and Balk, and by 1963 he was largely washed up, though he did do one more thing that would make him at least a footnote in music history for something other than "Runaway". He was more popular in the UK than in the US, and he even appeared in the film "It's Trad Dad!", a cheap cash-in on the trad jazz craze, starring Helen Shapiro and Craig Douglas as teenagers who try to persuade the stuffy adults who hate the young people's music that the Dukes of Dixieland, Mr. Acker Bilk and the Temperance Seven are not dangerous obscene noises threatening the morals of the nation's youth. That film also featured Gene Vincent and Chubby Checker along with a lot of British trumpet players, and was the first feature film made by Richard Lester, who we'll be hearing more about in this story. So Shannon spent a fair amount of time in the UK, and in 1963 he noticed a song by a new British group that was rising up the UK charts and covered it. His version of "From Me to You" only made number seventy-seven on the US charts, but it was still the first version of a Lennon/McCartney song to make the Hot One Hundred: [Excerpt: Del Shannon, "From Me to You"] He made some interesting records in the rest of the sixties, and had the occasional fluke hit, but the music he was making, a unique blend of hard garage rock and soft white doo-wop, was increasingly out of step with the rest of the industry. In the mid and late sixties, his biggest successes came with songwriting and productions for other artists. He wrote "I Go to Pieces" which became a hit for Peter & Gordon: [Excerpt: Peter and Gordon, "I Go to Pieces"] Produced the band Smith in their cover version of "Baby It's You", which made the top five: [Excerpt: Smith, "Baby It's You"] And produced Brian Hyland's million-selling version of a Curtis Mayfield song that I'm not going to play, because its title used a racial slur against Romani people which most non-Romani people didn't then regard as a slur, but which is a great record if you can get past that. That Hyland record featured Crook, reunited briefly with Shannon. But over the seventies Shannon seemed increasingly lost, and while he continued to make records, including some good ones made in the UK with production by Dave Edmunds and Jeff Lynne, he was increasingly unwell with alcoholism. He finally got sober in 1978, and managed to have a fluke hit in 1981 with a cover version of Phil Phillips' "Sea of Love", produced by Tom Petty and with Petty's band the Heartbreakers backing him: [Excerpt: Del Shannon, "Sea of Love"] He also came to people's attention when a rerecorded version of "Runaway" with new lyrics was used as the theme for the TV show Crime Story. In 1989, Del Shannon was working on a comeback album, with Jeff Lynne producing and members of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers as backing musicians. The same people had previously worked on Roy Orbison's last album, which had been his biggest success in decades, and Lynne was gaining a reputation for resuscitating the careers of older musicians. Both Lynne and Petty were fans of Shannon and had worked with him previously, and it seemed likely that he might be able to have a hit with some of the material he was working on. Certainly "Walk Away", which Shannon co-wrote with Lynne and Petty, sounds like the kind of thing that was getting radio play around that time: [Excerpt: Del Shannon, "Walk Away"] There were even rumours that Lynne and Petty were thinking of inviting Shannon to join the Travelling Wilburys to replace Roy Orbison, though that seems unlikely to me. Unfortunately, by the time the album came out, Shannon was dead. He'd been suffering from depression for decades, and he died of suicide in early 1990, aged fifty-five. His widow later sued the manufacturers of the new wonder drug, Prozac, which he'd been prescribed a couple of weeks earlier, claiming that it caused his death. Max Crook, meanwhile, had become a firefighter and burglar alarm installer, while also pursuing a low-key career in music, mostly making religious music. When Shannon was posthumously inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Crook volunteered to perform at the ceremony, playing his original Musitron, but his offer was ignored. In later years he would regularly show up at annual celebrations of Shannon, and talk about the music they made together, and play for their fans. He died on July the first this year, aged eighty-three.

Episode ninety of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “Runaway” by Del Shannon, and at the early use of synthesised sound in rock music. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode.   Patreon backers also have a ten-minute bonus episode available, on “Blue Moon” by the Marcels. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt’s irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ —-more—- A note Almost every version of “Runaway” currently available is in stereo, and the stereo version of the song has a slightly different vocal take to the original mono version. Unfortunately, there appear to be multiple “original mono versions” too. To check that what I’m using here, a mono track available as a bonus on a reissue of the album Runaway With Del Shannon, is actually the hit single version, I downloaded two vinyl rips of the single and one vinyl rip of a mono hits compilation from the sixties that had been uploaded to YouTube. Unfortunately no two copies of the song I could find online would play in synch – they all appear to be mastered at slightly different speeds, possibly due to the varispeeding I talk about in the episode. I’ve gone with the version I did because it’s a clean-sounding mono version, but it may not be exactly what people heard in 1961. Resources As always, I’ve created a Mixcloud streaming playlist with full versions of all the songs in the episode. This one is in two parts because of the number of songs by Del Shannon in the mix. Part one, part two. Only one biography of Del Shannon has ever been written, and that’s out of print and (to judge from the Amazon reviews) not very well written, so I’ve relied again on other sources. Those include the liner notes to this CD, a good selection of Shannon’s work (with the proviso that “Runaway” is in stereo — see above; the articles on Shannon and Max Crook on This Is My Story, the official Del Shannon website,  and the Internet Archive’s cached copy of Max Crook’s old website. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them?   Transcript Today’s episode is an odd one to write, as just as I put the finishing touches to the script I discovered that Max Crook, the keyboard player at the centre of this story, died less than two weeks ago. The news wasn’t widely reported, and I only discovered this by double-checking a detail and discovering an obituary of him. Crook was one of the great early pioneers of electronic music, and a massive talent, and he’s a big part of the story I’m telling today, so before we go into the story proper I just wanted to take a moment to acknowledge his passing, and to regret that it hasn’t been more widely noted. One of the things we’ve not talked about much in this podcast so far is the technology of music. We’ve discussed it a bit — we’ve looked at how things like the change from 78s to 45s affected the music industry, at the transition from recording on discs to recording on tape, at the electrification of the guitar, and at Les Paul’s inventions. But in general, the music we’ve looked at has been made in a fairly straightforward manner — some people with some combination of guitars, bass, piano, drums, and saxophone, and maybe a few string players on the most recent recordings, get together in front of a microphone and sing and play those instruments. But today, we’re going to look at the start of synthesisers being used in rock and roll music. Today we’re going to look at “Runaway” by Del Shannon: [Excerpt: Del Shannon, “Runaway”] Synthesised sound has a far longer pedigree than you might expect. The use of electronics to create music goes back to the invention of the theremin and the ondes martenot in the 1920s, and by the 1930s, people had already started using polyphonic keyboard-based electronic instruments. The Novachord was produced by the Hammond organ company between 1938 and 1942, and was introduced at the World’s Fair in 1939, where Ferdinand Grofe, who we talked about a little in the episode on “Cathy’s Clown”, led a group consisting only of Novachord players in a public performance. The Novachord never achieved mass popularity because of World War II halting its production, but it was still used in a few recordings. One that’s of particular interest to those of us interested in early rock and roll is Slim Gaillard’s “Novachord Boogie”: [Excerpt: Slim Gaillard, “Novachord Boogie”] But also it was used on one of the most famous records of the late thirties. These days, when you hear “We’ll Meet Again” by Vera Lynn on documentaries about the second world war, this is the version you hear: [Excerpt: Vera Lynn, “We’ll Meet Again”] But the record that people actually listened to in World War II didn’t have any of that orchestration. It was Lynn accompanied by a single instrument, a Novachord played by Arthur Young, and is notably more interesting and less syrupy: [Excerpt: Vera Lynn with Arthur Young on Novachord, “We’ll Meet Again”] So even in the late thirties, synthesised sounds were making their way on to extremely popular recordings, but it wasn’t until after the war that electronic instruments started getting used in a major way. And the most popular of those instruments was a monophonic keyboard instrument called the clavioline, which was first produced in 1947. The clavioline was mostly used as a novelty element, but it appeared on several hit records. We’re going to devote a whole episode in a few months’ time to a record with the clavioline as lead instrument, but you can hear it on several fifties novelty records, like “Little Red Monkey” by Frank Chacksfield’s Tunesmiths, a UK top ten hit from 1953: [Excerpt: Frank Chacksfield’s Tunesmiths, “Little Red Monkey”] But while the clavioline itself was in use quite widely in the fifties, the first big rock and roll hit with an electronic synthesiser actually used a modified clavioline called a musitron, which was put together by an electronics amateur and keyboard player named Max Crook, from Ann Arbor, Michigan. Crook had built his musitron using a clavioline as a base, but adding parts from TVs, reel-to-reel recorders, and bits of whatever electronic junk he could salvage parts from. He’d started playing electronic instruments in his teens, and had built his own recording studio. Sadly, the early records Crook made are not easily available. The only place I’ve been able to track down copies of his early singles in a digital format is one grey-market CD, which I wasn’t able to obtain in time to include the tracks here and which only seems to be available from one shop in Cornwall. His first band, the White Bucks, released a single, “Get That Fly” backed with “Orny”, on Dot Records, but I can tell you from experience that if you search anywhere online for “White Bucks Orny” you will find… well, not that record, anyway. Even more interestingly, he apparently recorded a version of “Bumble Boogie”, the novelty instrumental that would later become a hit for B. Bumble and the Stingers, with Berry Gordy at some point in the late fifties. Sadly, that too is not generally available. But it wasn’t until he auditioned for Charlie Johnson and the Big Little Show Band that Max Crook met the people who were going to become his most important collaborators. The Big Little Show Band had started as Doug DeMott and The Moonlight Ramblers, a honky-tonk band that played at the Hi-Lo Club in Battle Creek, Michigan. Battle Creek is a company town, midway between Chicago and Detroit, which is most famous as being the headquarters of the Kellogg company, the cereal manufacturer and largest employer there. It’s not somewhere you’d expect great rock and roll to come from, being as it is a dull medium-sized town with little in the way of culture or nightlife. The Hi-Lo Club was a rough place, frequented by hard-working, hard-drinking people, and Doug DeMott had been a hard drinker himself — so hard a drinker, in fact, that he was soon sacked. The group’s rhythm guitarist, Charles Westover, had changed his name to Charlie Johnson and put together a new lineup of the group based around himself and the bass player, Loren Dugger. They got in a new drummer, Dick Parker, and then went through a couple of guitarists before deciding to hire a keyboard player instead. Once they auditioned Crook, with his musitron, which he could clip to the piano and thus provide chordal piano accompaniment while playing a lead melody on his musitron, they knew they had the right player for them. Crook had a friend, a black DJ named Ollie McLaughlin, who had music industry connections, and had been involved in the White Bucks recordings. Crook and Johnson started writing songs and recording demos for McLaughlin, who got Johnson a session with Irving Micahnik and Harry Balk, two record producers who were working with Johnny and the Hurricanes, an instrumental group who’d had a big hit with “Red River Rock” a year or so previously: [Excerpt: Johnny and the Hurricanes, “Red River Rock”] Johnson recorded two songs in New York, without his normal musicians backing him. However, Micahnik and Balk thought that the tracks were too dirgey, and Johnson was singing flat — and listening to them it’s not hard to see why they thought that: [Excerpt: Del Shannon, “The Search”] They told him to go back and come up with some more material that was less dirgey. Two things did come out of the association straight away, though. The first was that Charles Johnson changed his name again, combining a forename he chose to be reminiscent of the Cadillac Coup deVille with a surname he took from an aspiring wrestler he knew, Mark Shannon, to become Del Shannon. The second was that Johnny and the Hurricanes recorded one of Max Crook’s instrumentals, “Mr Lonely”, as a B-side, and you can hear in the Hammond organ part the kind of part that Crook would have been playing on his Musitron: [Excerpt: Johnny and the Hurricanes, “Mr Lonely”] Shannon and Crook recorded a tape of many other songs they were working on for McLaughlin to play to Micahnik and Balk, but they weren’t interested — until they heard a fragment of a song that Shannon and Crook had recorded, and which they’d then mostly taped over. That song, “Runaway”, was the one they wanted. “Runaway” had been an idea that had happened almost by accident. The band had been jamming on stage, and Crook had hit a chord change that Shannon thought sounded interesting — in later tellings of the story, this is always the Am-G chord change that opens the song, but I suspect the actual chord change that caught his ear was the one where they go to an E major chord rather than the expected G or E minor on the line “As our hearts were young”. That’s the only truly unusual chord change in the song. But whatever it was, Shannon liked the changes that Crook was playing — he and Crook would both later talk about how bored he was with the standard doo-wop progression that made up the majority of the songs they were playing at the time — and the band ended up jamming on the new chord sequence for fifteen or twenty minutes before the club owner told them to play something else. The next day, Shannon took his guitar to the carpet shop where he worked, and when there were no customers in, he would play the song to himself and write lyrics. He initially wrote two verses, but decided to scrap one. They performed the song, then titled “My Little Runaway”, that night, and it became a regular part of their set. The crucial element in the song, though, came during that first performance. Shannon said, just before they started, “Max, when I point to you, play something”. And so when Shannon got to the end of the chorus, he pointed, and Crook played this: [Excerpt: Del Shannon, “Runaway”] When they were told that Micahnik and Balk liked the fragment of song that they’d heard, Shannon and Crook recorded a full demo of the song and sent it on to them. The producers weren’t hugely impressed with the finished song, saying they thought it sounded like three songs trying to coexist, and they also didn’t like Shannon’s voice, but they *did* like Crook and the Musitron, and so they invited Crook and Shannon to come to New York to record. The two men drove seven hundred miles in a broken-down car, with their wives, to get from Michigan to New York. It was the middle of winter, the car had no heating, and Shannon smoked while Crook was allergic to tobacco smoke, so they had to keep the windows open. The session they were going to do was a split session — they were going to record two Del Shannon vocal tracks, and two instrumentals by Crook, who was recording under the name “Maximilian” without a surname (though the “Max” in his name was actually short for Maxfield). Crook was definitely the one they were interested in — he rearranged the way the microphones were arranged in the studio, to get the sound he wanted rather than the standard studio sound, and he also had a bag full of gadgets that the studio engineers were fascinated by, for altering the Musitron’s sound. The first single released as by “Maximilian” was “The Snake”, which featured Crook and Shannon’s wives on handclaps, along with an additional clapper who was found on the street and paid forty dollars to come in and clap along: [Excerpt: Maximilian, “The Snake”] After that, the two women got bored and wandered off down Broadway. They eventually found themselves in the audience for a TV game show, Beat the Clock, and Joann Crook ended up a contestant on the show — their husbands didn’t believe them, when they explained later where they’d been, until acquaintances mentioned having seen Joann on TV. Meanwhile, the two men were working on another Maximillian track, and on two Del Shannon tracks, one of which was “Runaway”. They couldn’t afford to stay overnight in New York, so they drove back to Michigan, but when the record company listened to “Runaway”, they discovered that Shannon had been singing flat due to nerves. Shannon had to go back to New York, this time by plane, to rerecord his vocals. According to Crook, even this wasn’t enough, and the engineers eventually had to varispeed his vocals to get them in key with the backing track. I’m not at all sure how this would have worked, as speeding up his vocals would have also meant that he was singing at a different tempo, but that’s what Crook said, and the vocal does have a slightly different quality to it. And Harry Balk backed Crook up, saying “We finally got Del on key, and it sounded great, but it didn’t sound like Del. We mixed it anyhow, and it came out wonderful. When I brought Ollie and Del into my office to hear it, Del had a bit of a fit. He said, ‘Harry, that doesn’t even sound like me!’ I just remember saying, ‘Yeah but Del, nobody knows what the hell you sound like!” Like most great records, “Runaway” was the sum of many parts. Shannon later broke down all the elements that went into the song, saying: “I learned falsetto from The Ink Spots’ ‘We Three,'”: [Excerpt: The Ink Spots, “We Three (My Echo, My Shadow, and Me)”] “I eventually got hooked on Jimmy Jones’ ‘Handy Man’ in ’59 and would sing that at the Hi-Lo Club.”: [Excerpt: Jimmy Jones, “Handy Man”] “I always had the idea of ‘running away’ somewhere in the back of my mind. ‘I wa-wa-wa-wa-wonder, why…’ I borrowed from Dion & The Belmonts’ ‘I Wonder Why.'” [Excerpt: Dion and the Belmonts, “I Wonder Why”] “The beats you hear in there, ‘…I wonder, bam-bam-bam, I wa-wa…’ I stole from Bobby Darin’s ‘Dream Lover.'” [Excerpt: Bobby Darin, “Dream Lover”] Listening to the song, you can definitely hear all those elements that Shannon identifies in there, but what emerges is something fresh and original, unlike anything else out at the time: [Excerpt: Del Shannon, “Runaway”] “Runaway” went to number one in almost every country that had a chart at the time, and top five in most of the rest. In America, the song it knocked off the top was “Blue Moon” by the Marcels, one of those songs with the doo-wop progression that Shannon had been so bored with. At its peak, it was selling eighty thousand copies a day, and Billboard put it at number three hundred and sixty four on the all-time charts in 2018. It was a massive success, and a game-changer in the music industry. Maximilian’s single, on the other hand, only made the top forty in Argentina. Clearly, Del Shannon was the artist who was going to be worth following, but they did release a few more singles by Maximilian, things like “The Twisting Ghost”: [Excerpt: Maximilian, “The Twisting Ghost”] That made the Canadian top forty, but Maximilian never became a star in his own right. Shannon, on the other hand, recorded a string of hits, though none were as successful as “Runaway”. The most successful was the follow-up, “Hats off to Larry”, which was very much “Runaway part 2”: [Excerpt: Del Shannon, “Hats off to Larry”] But every single he released after that was slightly less successful than the one before. He soon stopped working with Crook, who remained at the Hi-Lo Club with the rest of the band while Shannon toured the country, and without Crook’s Musitron playing his records were far less interesting than his earliest singles, though he did have the distinction of being one of the few singers of this era to write the bulk of his own material. He managed to further sabotage his career by suing Micahnik and Balk, and by 1963 he was largely washed up, though he did do one more thing that would make him at least a footnote in music history for something other than “Runaway”. He was more popular in the UK than in the US, and he even appeared in the film “It’s Trad Dad!”, a cheap cash-in on the trad jazz craze, starring Helen Shapiro and Craig Douglas as teenagers who try to persuade the stuffy adults who hate the young people’s music that the Dukes of Dixieland, Mr. Acker Bilk and the Temperance Seven are not dangerous obscene noises threatening the morals of the nation’s youth. That film also featured Gene Vincent and Chubby Checker along with a lot of British trumpet players, and was the first feature film made by Richard Lester, who we’ll be hearing more about in this story. So Shannon spent a fair amount of time in the UK, and in 1963 he noticed a song by a new British group that was rising up the UK charts and covered it. His version of “From Me to You” only made number seventy-seven on the US charts, but it was still the first version of a Lennon/McCartney song to make the Hot One Hundred: [Excerpt: Del Shannon, “From Me to You”] He made some interesting records in the rest of the sixties, and had the occasional fluke hit, but the music he was making, a unique blend of hard garage rock and soft white doo-wop, was increasingly out of step with the rest of the industry. In the mid and late sixties, his biggest successes came with songwriting and productions for other artists. He wrote “I Go to Pieces” which became a hit for Peter & Gordon: [Excerpt: Peter and Gordon, “I Go to Pieces”] Produced the band Smith in their cover version of “Baby It’s You”, which made the top five: [Excerpt: Smith, “Baby It’s You”] And produced Brian Hyland’s million-selling version of a Curtis Mayfield song that I’m not going to play, because its title used a racial slur against Romani people which most non-Romani people didn’t then regard as a slur, but which is a great record if you can get past that. That Hyland record featured Crook, reunited briefly with Shannon. But over the seventies Shannon seemed increasingly lost, and while he continued to make records, including some good ones made in the UK with production by Dave Edmunds and Jeff Lynne, he was increasingly unwell with alcoholism. He finally got sober in 1978, and managed to have a fluke hit in 1981 with a cover version of Phil Phillips’ “Sea of Love”, produced by Tom Petty and with Petty’s band the Heartbreakers backing him: [Excerpt: Del Shannon, “Sea of Love”] He also came to people’s attention when a rerecorded version of “Runaway” with new lyrics was used as the theme for the TV show Crime Story. In 1989, Del Shannon was working on a comeback album, with Jeff Lynne producing and members of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers as backing musicians. The same people had previously worked on Roy Orbison’s last album, which had been his biggest success in decades, and Lynne was gaining a reputation for resuscitating the careers of older musicians. Both Lynne and Petty were fans of Shannon and had worked with him previously, and it seemed likely that he might be able to have a hit with some of the material he was working on. Certainly “Walk Away”, which Shannon co-wrote with Lynne and Petty, sounds like the kind of thing that was getting radio play around that time: [Excerpt: Del Shannon, “Walk Away”] There were even rumours that Lynne and Petty were thinking of inviting Shannon to join the Travelling Wilburys to replace Roy Orbison, though that seems unlikely to me. Unfortunately, by the time the album came out, Shannon was dead. He’d been suffering from depression for decades, and he died of suicide in early 1990, aged fifty-five. His widow later sued the manufacturers of the new wonder drug, Prozac, which he’d been prescribed a couple of weeks earlier, claiming that it caused his death. Max Crook, meanwhile, had become a firefighter and burglar alarm installer, while also pursuing a low-key career in music, mostly making religious music. When Shannon was posthumously inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Crook volunteered to perform at the ceremony, playing his original Musitron, but his offer was ignored. In later years he would regularly show up at annual celebrations of Shannon, and talk about the music they made together, and play for their fans. He died on July the first this year, aged eighty-three.

Eric Alper always knew he was destined to work with music, he just didn't know it would be with a member of The Beatles. He started his own company and through his travels has worked with Ray Charles, Snoop Dogg, Randy Bachman and Ringo Starr. We chatted about the past, present and future of the music industry as well as a little baseball and some memories of Kawhi's 'Shot'.

Hosted by long time radio reporter, anchor, editor, producer, director, and host, Larry Matthews, "Matthews and Friends" brings you the best interviews with guests from whom you want to hear! Join Larry Matthews today to hear his work with Jim Bohannon, nationally heard talk show host on what Americans are calling in about the COVID 19 crisis; Dr. Bilha Chesney Fish on her book "Invincible Women: Conversations with 21 Inspiring and Successful American Immigrants"; The Bob Hope show from 1948; AND music from The Travelling Wilburys and Neil Diamond" "Matthews and Friends" can be heard at 8:00 am, ET, seven days a week on Impact Radio USA!

Episode eighty-three of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at "Only the Lonely" by Roy Orbison, and how Orbison finally found success by ignoring conventional pop song structure. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have two bonus podcasts -- part one of a two-part Q&A and a ten-minute bonus on "Walk Don't Run" by the Ventures. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt's irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ ----more----  Resources Apologies for the delay this week -- I'm still trying to catch up after last week.    As usual, I have put together a Mixcloud mix with every song excerpted in this podcast. I have relied for biographical information mostly on two books -- The Authorised Roy Orbison written by Jeff Slate and three of Orbison's children, and Rhapsody in Black by John Kruth.  For the musicological analysis, I referred a lot to the essay “Only the Lonely: Roy Orbison’s Sweet West Texas Style,” by Albin Zak, in Sounding Out Pop: Analytical Essays in Popular Music.   There are many Orbison collections available, but many have rerecordings rather than the original versions of his hits. The Monument Singles Collection is the originals.  Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript It's been nearly a year since we last looked at Roy Orbison, so it's probably a good idea to quickly catch up with where we were up to. Roy Orbison had started out as a rockabilly singer, with a group called the Wink Westerners who changed their name to the Teen Kings and were signed to Sun Records. Orbison had thought that he would like to be a ballad singer, but everyone at Sun was convinced that he would never make it as anything other than a rocker. He had one minor hit on Sun, "Ooby Dooby", but eventually got dissatisfied with the label and asked to be allowed to go to another label -- Sam Phillips agreed to free him from his contract, in return for all the songwriting royalties and credits for everything he'd recorded for Sun. Newly free, Orbison signed to a major publisher and a major record label, recording for RCA with the same Nashville A-Team that were recording with Elvis and Brenda Lee. He had some success as a songwriter, writing "Claudette", which became a hit for the Everly Brothers, but he did no better recording for RCA than he had recording for Sun, and soon he was dropped by his new label, and the money from "Claudette" ran out. By the middle of 1959, Roy Orbison was an absolute failure. But this episode, we're going to talk about what happened next, and the startling way in which someone who had been a failure when produced by both Sam Phillips and Chet Atkins managed to become one of the most important artists in the world on a tiny label with no track record. Today, we're going to look at "Only the Lonely", and the records that turned Roy Orbison into a star: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Only the Lonely"] It seems odd that Roy Orbison could thank Wesley Rose for introducing him to Monument Records. Rose was the co-owner of Acuff-Rose publishing, the biggest country music publishing company in the world, and the company to which Orbison had signed as a songwriter. Fred Foster, the owner of Monument, describes being called to a meeting of various Nashville music industry professionals, at which Rose asked him in front of everyone "Why are you trying to destroy Nashville by making these..." and then used an expletive I can't use here and a racial slur I *won't* use here, to describe the slightly R&B-infused music Foster was making. Foster was part of the new wave of Nashville record makers that also included Owen Bradley and Chet Atkins, though at this time he was far less successful than either of them. Foster had started out as a songwriter, writing the words for the McGuire Sisters' hit "Picking Sweethearts": [Excerpt: The McGuire Sisters, "Picking Sweethearts"] He had moved from there into record production, despite having little musical or technical ability. He did, though, have a good ear for artists, and he made his career in the business by picking good people and letting them do the music they wanted. He started out at 4 Star Records, a small country label. From there he moved to Mercury Records, but he only spent a brief time there -- he was in favour of moving into the rockabilly market, while his superiors in the company weren't. He quickly found another role at ABC/Paramount, where he produced hits for a number of people, including one track we've already covered in this podcast, Lloyd Price's version of "Stagger Lee". He then put his entire life savings into starting up his own company, Monument, which he initially co-owned with a DJ named Buddy Deane. As Foster and Deane were based in Washington at this time, they used an image of the Washington Monument as the label's logo, and that also inspired the name. The first single they put out on the label caused them some problems. Billy Grammer, their first signing, recorded a song that they believed to be in the public domain, "Done Laid Around", which had recently been recorded by the Weavers under the name "Gotta Travel On": [Excerpt: The Weavers, "Gotta Travel On"] However, after putting out Grammer's version, Foster discovered that the song was actually in copyright, with a credit to the folk singer and folklorist Paul Clayton. I don't know if Clayton actually wrote the song or not -- it was common practice at that time for folk songs to be copyrighted in the name of an artist. But whether Clayton wrote the song or not, "Done Laid Around" had to be withdrawn from sale, and reissued under the name "Gotta Travel On", with Clayton credited as the composer -- something which cost the new label a substantial amount of money. But it worked out well for everyone, with Grammer's record eventually reaching number four on the pop charts: [Excerpt: Billy Grammer, "Gotta Travel On"] After that success, Foster bought out Buddy Deane and moved the label down to Nashville. They put out a few more singles over the next year, mostly by Grammer, but nothing recaptured that initial success. But it did mean that Foster started working with the Nashville A-Team of session musicians -- people like Bob Moore, the bass player who played on almost every important record to come out of Nashville at that time, including the Elvis records we looked at last week. Moore had also played on Roy Orbison's last sessions for RCA, where he'd seen how downcast Orbison was. Orbison had explained to Moore about how this was going to be his last session for RCA -- his contract was about to expire, and it was clear that Chet Atkins had no more idea than Sam Phillips how to make a successful Roy Orbison record. Moore told him not to worry -- he very obviously had talent, and Moore would speak to Wesley Rose about him. As well as being Orbison's music publisher, Rose was also Orbison's manager, something that would nowadays be considered a conflict of interest, but was par for the course at the time -- he was also the Everly Brothers' manager and publisher, which is how Orbison had managed to place "Claudette" with them. There were a lot of such backroom deals in the industry at the time, and few people knew about them -- for example, none of Bob Moore's fellow session players on the A-Team knew that he secretly owned thirty-seven percent of Monument Records. While Fred Foster is credited as the producer on most of Orbison's sessions from this point on, it's probably reasonable to think of Bob Moore as at the very least an uncredited co-producer -- he was the arranger on all of the records, and he was also the person who booked the other musicians on the sessions. Orbison was by this point so depressed about his own chances in the music industry that he couldn't believe that anyone wanted to sign him at all -- he was convinced even after signing that Fred Foster was confusing his own "Ooby Dooby" with another Sun single, Warren Smith's similar sounding "Rock and Roll Ruby": [Excerpt: Warren Smith, "Rock and Roll Ruby"] Wesley Rose had very clear ideas as to what Orbison's first single for Monument should be -- that last session at RCA had included two songs, "Paper Boy", and "With the Bug", that RCA had not bothered to release, and so Orbison went into the studio with much the same set of musicians he'd been working with at RCA, and cut the same songs he'd recorded there. The single was released, and made absolutely no impact -- unsurprising for a record that was really the end of Orbison's period as a failure, rather than the beginning of his golden period. That golden period came when he started collaborating with Joe Melson. The two men had known each other for a while, but the legend has it that they started writing songs together after Melson was walking along and saw Orbison sat in his car playing the guitar -- Orbison and his wife Claudette had recently had a son, Roy DeWayne Orbison (his middle name was after Orbison's friend Duane Eddy, though spelled differently), and the flat they were living in was so small that the only way Orbison could write any songs without disturbing the baby was to go and write them in the car. Melson apparently tapped on the car window, and asked what Roy was doing, and when Roy explained, he suggested that the two of them start working together. Both men were more than capable songwriters on their own, but they brought out the best in one another, and soon they were writing material that was unlike anything else in popular music at the time. Their first collaboration to be released was Orbison's second Monument single, "Uptown", a bluesy rock and roll track which saw the first big change in Orbison's style -- the introduction of a string section along with the Nashville A-Team. This was something that was only just starting to be done in Nashville, and it made little sense to most people involved that Orbison would want strings on what would otherwise be a rockabilly track, but they went ahead: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Uptown"] The string arrangement was written by Anita Kerr, of the Anita Kerr Singers, the female vocal group that would be called into any Nashville session that required women's voices (the male equivalent was the Jordanaires). Kerr would write a lot of the string arrangements for Orbison's records, and her vocal group -- with Joe Melson adding a single male voice -- would provide the backing vocals on them for the next few years. Wesley Rose was still unsure that Orbison could ever be a star, mostly because he thought he was so odd-looking, but "Uptown" started to prove him wrong. It made number seventy-two on the pop charts -- still not a massive hit, but the best he'd done since "Ooby Dooby" three years and two record labels earlier. But it was the next single, another Orbison/Melson collaboration, that would make him into one of the biggest stars in music. "Only the Lonely" had its roots in two other songs. Melson had written a song called "Cry" before ever meeting Orbison, and the two of them had reworked it into one called "Only the Lonely", but they were also working on another song at the same time. They had still not had a hit, and were trying to write something in the style of a current popular record. At the time, Mark Dinning was having huge success with a ballad called "Teen Angel", about a girl who gets run over by a train: [Excerpt: Mark Dinning, "Teen Angel"] Orbison and Melson were writing their own knock-off of that, called "Come Back to Me My Love". But when they played it for Fred Foster, he told them it was awful, and they should scrap the whole thing -- apart from the backing vocal hook Joe was singing. That was worth doing something with: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Only the Lonely", vocal intro] They took that vocal part and put it together with "Only the Lonely" to make a finished song. According to most reports, rather than have Orbison record it, they initially tried to get Elvis to do it -- if they did, they must have known that they had no chance of it getting recorded, because Elvis was only recording songs published by Hill and Range, and Orbison and Melson were Acuff-Rose songwriters. They also, though, tried to get it recorded by the Everly Brothers, who were friends of Orbison, were also signed with Acuff-Rose, and were also managed by Wesley Rose, and even they turned it down. This is understandable, because the finished "Only the Lonely" is one of the most bizarrely structured songs ever to be a hit. Now, I've known this song for more than thirty years, I have a fair understanding of music, *and* I am explaining this with the help of a musicological essay on the song I've read, analysing it bar by bar. I am *still* not sure that my explanation of what's going on with this song is right. *That's* how oddly structured this song is. The intro is straightforward enough, the kind of thing that every song has. But then the lead vocal comes in, and rather than continue under the lead, like you would normally expect, the lead and backing vocals alternate, and push each other out of phase as a result. Where in the intro, the first "dum dum dum" starts on the first bar of the phrase, here it starts on the *second* bar of the phrase and extends past the end of Orbison's line, meaning the first line of the verse is actually five bars (from where the instruments come in after the a capella "Only the"), and not only that, the backing vocals are stressing different beats to the ones the lead vocal is stressing: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Only the Lonely", first line of verse] This is quite astonishingly jarring. Pop songs, of whatever genre -- country, or blues, or rock and roll, or doo-wop, or whatever -- almost all work in fours. You have four-bar phrases that build up into eight- or twelve-bar verses, choruses, and bridges. Here, by overlaying two four-bar phrases out of synch with each other, Orbison and Melson have created a five-bar phrase -- although please note if you try to count bars along with these excerpts, you may come out with a different number, because phrases cross bar lines and I'm splitting these excerpts up by the vocal phrase rather than by the bar line. The lead vocal then comes back, on a different beat than expected -- the stresses in the melody have moved all over the place. Because the lead vocal starts on a different beat for the second phrase, even though it's the same length as the first phrase, it crosses more bar lines, meaning two five-bar phrases total eleven bars. Not only that, but the bass doesn't move to a new chord where you expect, but it stays on its original chord for an extra two beats, giving the impression of a six-beat bar, even though the drums are staying in four-four. So the first half of the verse is eleven bars long, if you don't get thrown by thinking one of the bars is six beats rather than four. Structurally, harmonically, and rhythmically, it feels like someone has tried to compromise between a twelve-bar blues and an eight-bar doo-wop song: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Only the Lonely", second line] There's then another section, which in itself is perfectly straightforward -- an eight-bar stop-time section, whose lyric is possibly inspired by the Drifters song that had used strings and rhythmic disorientation in a similar way a few months earlier: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Only the Lonely", "There goes my baby..."] The only incongruity there is a very minor one -- a brief move to the fifth-of-fifth chord, which is the kind of extremely minor deviation from the key that's par for the course in pop music. That section by itself is nothing unusual. But then after that straightforward eight-bar section, which seems like a return to normality, we then get a five-bar section which takes us to the end of the verse: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Only the Lonely", "But only the lonely know why..."] The song then basically repeats all its musical material from the start, with a few changes – the second time, the verse starts on the third of the scale rather than the first, and the melody goes up more, but it's structured similarly, and finishes in under two and a half minutes. So the musical material of the song covers twenty-four bars, not counting the intro. Twenty-four bars is actually a perfectly normal number of bars for a song to cover, but it would normally be broken down into three lots of eight or two lots of twelve -- instead it's a five, a six, an eight, and a five. I think. Honestly, I've gone back and forth several times about how best to break this up. The song is so familiar to most of us now that this doesn't sound strange any more, but I distinctly remember my own first time listening to it, when I was about eight, and wondering if the backing vocalists just hadn't known when to come in, if the people making the record just hadn't known how to make one properly, because this just sounded *wrong* to me. But it's that wrongness, that strangeness, of course -- along with Orbison's magnificent voice -- that made the record a hit, expressing perfectly the confusion and disorientation felt by the song's protagonist. It went to number two in the US, and number one in the UK, and instantly made Roy Orbison a star. A couple of slightly more conventional singles followed -- "Blue Angel" and "I'm Hurtin'" -- and they were both hits, but nowhere near as big as "Only the Lonely", and this seems to have convinced Orbison and Melson that they needed to follow their instincts and go for different structures than the norm. They started to make their songs, as far as possible, through-composed pieces. While most songs of the time break down into neat little sections -- verse, chorus, verse, chorus, middle eight, instrumental solo, chorus to fade, or a similar structure, Orbison and Melson's songs rarely have sections that repeat without any changes. Instead a single melody develops and takes twists and turns over the course of a couple of minutes, with Orbison usually singing throughout. This also had another advantage, as far as Orbison was concerned -- their songs hardly ever had space for an instrumental break, and so he never had to do the rock and roll star thing of moving around the stage and dancing while the instrumentalists soloed, which was something he felt uncomfortable doing. Instead he could just stand perfectly still at the microphone and sing. The first single they released that fit this new style was inspired by a piece of music Fred Foster introduced Orbison to -- Ravel's "Bolero": [Excerpt: Ravel, "Bolero" (West-Eastern Divan Orchestra)] Orbison and Melson took that basic feel and changed it into what would become Orbison's first number one in the US, "Running Scared": [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Running Scared"] That song was apparently one that met some resistance from the Nashville A-Team. A chunk of the song is in rubato, or "free time", where the musicians speed up or slow down slightly to make the music more expressive. This was not something that Bob Moore, in particular, was comfortable with -- they were making pop music, weren't they? Pop music was for kids to dance to, and if kids were going to dance to it, it had to have a steady beat. Orbison wasn't very good at all at dealing with conflict, and wherever possible he would try to take the most positive attitude possible, and in this case he just went into the control room and waited, while the musicians tried to figure out a way of playing the song in strict tempo, and found it just didn't work. After a while, Orbison walked back into the studio and said "I think we should play it the way it was written", and the musicians finally went along with him. It may also have been on "Running Scared" that they pioneered a new recording technique, or at least new for Nashville, which was surprisingly conservative about recording technology for a town so rooted in the music industry. I've seen this story written about three different early Orbison songs, and it could have been any of them, but the descriptions of the "Running Scared" session are the most detailed. While Orbison had a great voice, at this point it wasn't especially powerful, and with the addition of strings, the band were overpowering his voice. At this time, it was customary for singers to record with the band, all performing together in one room, but the sound of the instruments was getting into Orbison's mic louder than his voice, making it impossible to get a good mix. Eventually, they brought a coatrack covered with coats into the studio, and used it to partition the space -- Orbison would stand on one side of it with his mic, and the band and their mics would be on the other side. The coats would deaden the sound of the musicians enough that Orbison's voice would be the main sound on his vocal mic. In this case, the reason his voice was being overpowered was that right at the end of the song he had to hit a high A in full voice -- something that's very difficult for a baritone like Orbison to do without going into falsetto. It may also be that he was nervous about trying this when the musicians could see him, and the coats in the way helped him feel more secure. Either way, he does a magnificent job on that note: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Running Scared", tag] Apparently when Chet Atkins popped into the studio for a visit, he was utterly bemused by what he saw -- but then he was impressed enough by the idea that he got RCA to build a proper vocal isolation booth at their studios to get the same effect. "Running Scared" also came along just after Orbison made one big change to his image. He'd been on tour with Patsy Cline, promoting "Blue Angel", and had left his glasses on the plane. As he couldn't see well without them, he had to resort to using his prescription sunglasses on stage, and was astonished to find that instead of looking gawky and rather odd-looking, the audience now seemed to think he looked cool and brooding. From that point on, he wore them constantly. For the next three years, Orbison and Melson continued working together and producing hits -- although Orbison also wrote several hits solo during this time, including "In Dreams", which many consider his greatest record. But Melson was becoming increasingly convinced that he was the real talent in the partnership. Melson was also putting out singles on his own at this time, and you can judge for yourself whether his most successful solo track, "Hey Mr. Cupid" is better or worse than the tracks Orbison did without him. [Excerpt: Joe Melson, "Hey Mr. Cupid"] Eventually Melson stopped working with Orbison altogether, after their last major collaboration, "Blue Bayou". This turned out to be the beginning of the collapse of Orbison's entire life, though it didn't seem like it at the time. It was the first crack in the team that produced his biggest hits, but for now he was on a roll. He started collaborating with another writer, Bill Dees, and even though Beatlemania was raging in the UK, and later in the US, he was one of a tiny number of American artists who continued to have hits. Indeed, two of the early collaborations by Orbison and Dees were the *only* two records by an American artist to go to number one in the UK between August 1963 and February 1965. The second of those, "Oh, Pretty Woman", also went to number one in the US, and became one of his most well-known songs: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Oh, Pretty Woman"] That song again caused problems with his new collaborator, as Bill Dees sang the harmony vocals on it, and felt he wasn't getting enough credit for that. But that was the high point for Orbison. Wesley Rose and Fred Foster had never got on, and Rose decided that he was going to move Orbison over to MGM Records, who gave him an advance of a million dollars, but immediately the hits dried up. And the events of the next few years were the kind of thing that would would break almost anyone. He had divorced his wife Claudette, who had inspired "Oh, Pretty Woman", in November 1964, just before signing to MGM, because he'd discovered she was cheating on him. But the two of them had been so in love they'd ended up reconciling and remarrying in December 1965. But then six months later, they were out riding motorbikes together, Claudette crashed hers, and she died. And then a little over two years later, while he was on tour in the UK, his house burned down, killing two of his three children. Orbison continued to work, putting out records that no-one was buying, and playing the chicken-in-a-basket circuit in the UK. He even remarried in 1969, and found happiness and a new family with his second wife. But for about twenty years, from 1965 through to 1985, he was in a wilderness period. Between personal tragedy, changing fashions in music, and the heart condition he developed in the 70s, he was no longer capable of making records that resonated with the public, even though his voice was as strong as ever, and he could still get an audience when singing those old hits. And even the old hits were hard to get hold of -- Monument Records went bankrupt in the seventies, and reissues of his old songs were tied up in legal battles over their ownership. But then things started to change for him in the mid-eighties. A few modern artists had had hits with cover versions of his hits, but the big change came in 1985, when he collaborated with his fellow ex-Sun performers Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, and Jerry Lee Lewis, on an album called Class of 55: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison and the Class of 55, "Coming Home"] That came out in 1986, and made the top twenty on the country charts -- the first time he'd had an album make any chart at all since 1966. Also in 1986, David Lynch used Orbison's "In Dreams" in his film Blue Velvet, which brought the record to a very different audience. He collaborated with k.d. lang, who was then one of the hottest new singers in country music, on a new version of his hit "Crying": [Excerpt: Roy Orbison and k.d. lang, "Crying"] That later won a Grammy. He recorded a new album of rerecordings of his greatest hits, which made the lower reaches of the charts. He got inducted into the rock and roll hall of fame, and recorded a live TV special, A Black and White Night, where he was joined by Elvis' seventies backing band, Bruce Springsteen, Elvis Costello, k.d. lang, Bonnie Raitt, Jackson Browne and Tom Waits, among others, all just acting as backing singers and musicians for a man they admired. He also joined with George Harrison, Jeff Lynne, Tom Petty and Bob Dylan in a supergroup called The Travelling Wilburys, whose first album made the top five: [Excerpt: The Travelling Wilburys, "Handle With Care"] And he recorded an album of new material, his best in decades, Mystery Girl, produced by Lynne and with songs written by Orbison, Lynne, and Petty -- along with a couple of songs contributed by famous admirers like Bono and the Edge of U2. But by the time that came out, Orbison was dead -- after a day flying model aeroplanes with his sons, he had a heart attack and died, aged only fifty-two. When Mystery Girl came out a couple of months later, it rose to the top five or better almost everywhere -- and in the UK and US, he had two albums in the top five at the same time, as in the UK a hits compilation was also up there, while in the US the Wilburys album was still near the top of the charts. Orbison's is one of the saddest stories in rock music, with one of the greatest talents in history getting derailed for decades by heartbreaking tragedies unimaginable to most of us, and then dying right at the point he was finally starting to get the recognition he deserved. But the work he did, both as a songwriter and as a singer, would inspire people long after his death.

Episode eighty-three of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “Only the Lonely” by Roy Orbison, and how Orbison finally found success by ignoring conventional pop song structure. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have two bonus podcasts — part one of a two-part Q&A and a ten-minute bonus on “Walk Don’t Run” by the Ventures. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt’s irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ —-more—-  Resources Apologies for the delay this week — I’m still trying to catch up after last week.    As usual, I have put together a Mixcloud mix with every song excerpted in this podcast. I have relied for biographical information mostly on two books — The Authorised Roy Orbison written by Jeff Slate and three of Orbison’s children, and Rhapsody in Black by John Kruth.  For the musicological analysis, I referred a lot to the essay “Only the Lonely: Roy Orbison’s Sweet West Texas Style,” by Albin Zak, in Sounding Out Pop: Analytical Essays in Popular Music.   There are many Orbison collections available, but many have rerecordings rather than the original versions of his hits. The Monument Singles Collection is the originals.  Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript It’s been nearly a year since we last looked at Roy Orbison, so it’s probably a good idea to quickly catch up with where we were up to. Roy Orbison had started out as a rockabilly singer, with a group called the Wink Westerners who changed their name to the Teen Kings and were signed to Sun Records. Orbison had thought that he would like to be a ballad singer, but everyone at Sun was convinced that he would never make it as anything other than a rocker. He had one minor hit on Sun, “Ooby Dooby”, but eventually got dissatisfied with the label and asked to be allowed to go to another label — Sam Phillips agreed to free him from his contract, in return for all the songwriting royalties and credits for everything he’d recorded for Sun. Newly free, Orbison signed to a major publisher and a major record label, recording for RCA with the same Nashville A-Team that were recording with Elvis and Brenda Lee. He had some success as a songwriter, writing “Claudette”, which became a hit for the Everly Brothers, but he did no better recording for RCA than he had recording for Sun, and soon he was dropped by his new label, and the money from “Claudette” ran out. By the middle of 1959, Roy Orbison was an absolute failure. But this episode, we’re going to talk about what happened next, and the startling way in which someone who had been a failure when produced by both Sam Phillips and Chet Atkins managed to become one of the most important artists in the world on a tiny label with no track record. Today, we’re going to look at “Only the Lonely”, and the records that turned Roy Orbison into a star: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Only the Lonely”] It seems odd that Roy Orbison could thank Wesley Rose for introducing him to Monument Records. Rose was the co-owner of Acuff-Rose publishing, the biggest country music publishing company in the world, and the company to which Orbison had signed as a songwriter. Fred Foster, the owner of Monument, describes being called to a meeting of various Nashville music industry professionals, at which Rose asked him in front of everyone “Why are you trying to destroy Nashville by making these…” and then used an expletive I can’t use here and a racial slur I *won’t* use here, to describe the slightly R&B-infused music Foster was making. Foster was part of the new wave of Nashville record makers that also included Owen Bradley and Chet Atkins, though at this time he was far less successful than either of them. Foster had started out as a songwriter, writing the words for the McGuire Sisters’ hit “Picking Sweethearts”: [Excerpt: The McGuire Sisters, “Picking Sweethearts”] He had moved from there into record production, despite having little musical or technical ability. He did, though, have a good ear for artists, and he made his career in the business by picking good people and letting them do the music they wanted. He started out at 4 Star Records, a small country label. From there he moved to Mercury Records, but he only spent a brief time there — he was in favour of moving into the rockabilly market, while his superiors in the company weren’t. He quickly found another role at ABC/Paramount, where he produced hits for a number of people, including one track we’ve already covered in this podcast, Lloyd Price’s version of “Stagger Lee”. He then put his entire life savings into starting up his own company, Monument, which he initially co-owned with a DJ named Buddy Deane. As Foster and Deane were based in Washington at this time, they used an image of the Washington Monument as the label’s logo, and that also inspired the name. The first single they put out on the label caused them some problems. Billy Grammer, their first signing, recorded a song that they believed to be in the public domain, “Done Laid Around”, which had recently been recorded by the Weavers under the name “Gotta Travel On”: [Excerpt: The Weavers, “Gotta Travel On”] However, after putting out Grammer’s version, Foster discovered that the song was actually in copyright, with a credit to the folk singer and folklorist Paul Clayton. I don’t know if Clayton actually wrote the song or not — it was common practice at that time for folk songs to be copyrighted in the name of an artist. But whether Clayton wrote the song or not, “Done Laid Around” had to be withdrawn from sale, and reissued under the name “Gotta Travel On”, with Clayton credited as the composer — something which cost the new label a substantial amount of money. But it worked out well for everyone, with Grammer’s record eventually reaching number four on the pop charts: [Excerpt: Billy Grammer, “Gotta Travel On”] After that success, Foster bought out Buddy Deane and moved the label down to Nashville. They put out a few more singles over the next year, mostly by Grammer, but nothing recaptured that initial success. But it did mean that Foster started working with the Nashville A-Team of session musicians — people like Bob Moore, the bass player who played on almost every important record to come out of Nashville at that time, including the Elvis records we looked at last week. Moore had also played on Roy Orbison’s last sessions for RCA, where he’d seen how downcast Orbison was. Orbison had explained to Moore about how this was going to be his last session for RCA — his contract was about to expire, and it was clear that Chet Atkins had no more idea than Sam Phillips how to make a successful Roy Orbison record. Moore told him not to worry — he very obviously had talent, and Moore would speak to Wesley Rose about him. As well as being Orbison’s music publisher, Rose was also Orbison’s manager, something that would nowadays be considered a conflict of interest, but was par for the course at the time — he was also the Everly Brothers’ manager and publisher, which is how Orbison had managed to place “Claudette” with them. There were a lot of such backroom deals in the industry at the time, and few people knew about them — for example, none of Bob Moore’s fellow session players on the A-Team knew that he secretly owned thirty-seven percent of Monument Records. While Fred Foster is credited as the producer on most of Orbison’s sessions from this point on, it’s probably reasonable to think of Bob Moore as at the very least an uncredited co-producer — he was the arranger on all of the records, and he was also the person who booked the other musicians on the sessions. Orbison was by this point so depressed about his own chances in the music industry that he couldn’t believe that anyone wanted to sign him at all — he was convinced even after signing that Fred Foster was confusing his own “Ooby Dooby” with another Sun single, Warren Smith’s similar sounding “Rock and Roll Ruby”: [Excerpt: Warren Smith, “Rock and Roll Ruby”] Wesley Rose had very clear ideas as to what Orbison’s first single for Monument should be — that last session at RCA had included two songs, “Paper Boy”, and “With the Bug”, that RCA had not bothered to release, and so Orbison went into the studio with much the same set of musicians he’d been working with at RCA, and cut the same songs he’d recorded there. The single was released, and made absolutely no impact — unsurprising for a record that was really the end of Orbison’s period as a failure, rather than the beginning of his golden period. That golden period came when he started collaborating with Joe Melson. The two men had known each other for a while, but the legend has it that they started writing songs together after Melson was walking along and saw Orbison sat in his car playing the guitar — Orbison and his wife Claudette had recently had a son, Roy DeWayne Orbison (his middle name was after Orbison’s friend Duane Eddy, though spelled differently), and the flat they were living in was so small that the only way Orbison could write any songs without disturbing the baby was to go and write them in the car. Melson apparently tapped on the car window, and asked what Roy was doing, and when Roy explained, he suggested that the two of them start working together. Both men were more than capable songwriters on their own, but they brought out the best in one another, and soon they were writing material that was unlike anything else in popular music at the time. Their first collaboration to be released was Orbison’s second Monument single, “Uptown”, a bluesy rock and roll track which saw the first big change in Orbison’s style — the introduction of a string section along with the Nashville A-Team. This was something that was only just starting to be done in Nashville, and it made little sense to most people involved that Orbison would want strings on what would otherwise be a rockabilly track, but they went ahead: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Uptown”] The string arrangement was written by Anita Kerr, of the Anita Kerr Singers, the female vocal group that would be called into any Nashville session that required women’s voices (the male equivalent was the Jordanaires). Kerr would write a lot of the string arrangements for Orbison’s records, and her vocal group — with Joe Melson adding a single male voice — would provide the backing vocals on them for the next few years. Wesley Rose was still unsure that Orbison could ever be a star, mostly because he thought he was so odd-looking, but “Uptown” started to prove him wrong. It made number seventy-two on the pop charts — still not a massive hit, but the best he’d done since “Ooby Dooby” three years and two record labels earlier. But it was the next single, another Orbison/Melson collaboration, that would make him into one of the biggest stars in music. “Only the Lonely” had its roots in two other songs. Melson had written a song called “Cry” before ever meeting Orbison, and the two of them had reworked it into one called “Only the Lonely”, but they were also working on another song at the same time. They had still not had a hit, and were trying to write something in the style of a current popular record. At the time, Mark Dinning was having huge success with a ballad called “Teen Angel”, about a girl who gets run over by a train: [Excerpt: Mark Dinning, “Teen Angel”] Orbison and Melson were writing their own knock-off of that, called “Come Back to Me My Love”. But when they played it for Fred Foster, he told them it was awful, and they should scrap the whole thing — apart from the backing vocal hook Joe was singing. That was worth doing something with: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Only the Lonely”, vocal intro] They took that vocal part and put it together with “Only the Lonely” to make a finished song. According to most reports, rather than have Orbison record it, they initially tried to get Elvis to do it — if they did, they must have known that they had no chance of it getting recorded, because Elvis was only recording songs published by Hill and Range, and Orbison and Melson were Acuff-Rose songwriters. They also, though, tried to get it recorded by the Everly Brothers, who were friends of Orbison, were also signed with Acuff-Rose, and were also managed by Wesley Rose, and even they turned it down. This is understandable, because the finished “Only the Lonely” is one of the most bizarrely structured songs ever to be a hit. Now, I’ve known this song for more than thirty years, I have a fair understanding of music, *and* I am explaining this with the help of a musicological essay on the song I’ve read, analysing it bar by bar. I am *still* not sure that my explanation of what’s going on with this song is right. *That’s* how oddly structured this song is. The intro is straightforward enough, the kind of thing that every song has. But then the lead vocal comes in, and rather than continue under the lead, like you would normally expect, the lead and backing vocals alternate, and push each other out of phase as a result. Where in the intro, the first “dum dum dum” starts on the first bar of the phrase, here it starts on the *second* bar of the phrase and extends past the end of Orbison’s line, meaning the first line of the verse is actually five bars (from where the instruments come in after the a capella “Only the”), and not only that, the backing vocals are stressing different beats to the ones the lead vocal is stressing: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Only the Lonely”, first line of verse] This is quite astonishingly jarring. Pop songs, of whatever genre — country, or blues, or rock and roll, or doo-wop, or whatever — almost all work in fours. You have four-bar phrases that build up into eight- or twelve-bar verses, choruses, and bridges. Here, by overlaying two four-bar phrases out of synch with each other, Orbison and Melson have created a five-bar phrase — although please note if you try to count bars along with these excerpts, you may come out with a different number, because phrases cross bar lines and I’m splitting these excerpts up by the vocal phrase rather than by the bar line. The lead vocal then comes back, on a different beat than expected — the stresses in the melody have moved all over the place. Because the lead vocal starts on a different beat for the second phrase, even though it’s the same length as the first phrase, it crosses more bar lines, meaning two five-bar phrases total eleven bars. Not only that, but the bass doesn’t move to a new chord where you expect, but it stays on its original chord for an extra two beats, giving the impression of a six-beat bar, even though the drums are staying in four-four. So the first half of the verse is eleven bars long, if you don’t get thrown by thinking one of the bars is six beats rather than four. Structurally, harmonically, and rhythmically, it feels like someone has tried to compromise between a twelve-bar blues and an eight-bar doo-wop song: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Only the Lonely”, second line] There’s then another section, which in itself is perfectly straightforward — an eight-bar stop-time section, whose lyric is possibly inspired by the Drifters song that had used strings and rhythmic disorientation in a similar way a few months earlier: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Only the Lonely”, “There goes my baby…”] The only incongruity there is a very minor one — a brief move to the fifth-of-fifth chord, which is the kind of extremely minor deviation from the key that’s par for the course in pop music. That section by itself is nothing unusual. But then after that straightforward eight-bar section, which seems like a return to normality, we then get a five-bar section which takes us to the end of the verse: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Only the Lonely”, “But only the lonely know why…”] The song then basically repeats all its musical material from the start, with a few changes – the second time, the verse starts on the third of the scale rather than the first, and the melody goes up more, but it’s structured similarly, and finishes in under two and a half minutes. So the musical material of the song covers twenty-four bars, not counting the intro. Twenty-four bars is actually a perfectly normal number of bars for a song to cover, but it would normally be broken down into three lots of eight or two lots of twelve — instead it’s a five, a six, an eight, and a five. I think. Honestly, I’ve gone back and forth several times about how best to break this up. The song is so familiar to most of us now that this doesn’t sound strange any more, but I distinctly remember my own first time listening to it, when I was about eight, and wondering if the backing vocalists just hadn’t known when to come in, if the people making the record just hadn’t known how to make one properly, because this just sounded *wrong* to me. But it’s that wrongness, that strangeness, of course — along with Orbison’s magnificent voice — that made the record a hit, expressing perfectly the confusion and disorientation felt by the song’s protagonist. It went to number two in the US, and number one in the UK, and instantly made Roy Orbison a star. A couple of slightly more conventional singles followed — “Blue Angel” and “I’m Hurtin'” — and they were both hits, but nowhere near as big as “Only the Lonely”, and this seems to have convinced Orbison and Melson that they needed to follow their instincts and go for different structures than the norm. They started to make their songs, as far as possible, through-composed pieces. While most songs of the time break down into neat little sections — verse, chorus, verse, chorus, middle eight, instrumental solo, chorus to fade, or a similar structure, Orbison and Melson’s songs rarely have sections that repeat without any changes. Instead a single melody develops and takes twists and turns over the course of a couple of minutes, with Orbison usually singing throughout. This also had another advantage, as far as Orbison was concerned — their songs hardly ever had space for an instrumental break, and so he never had to do the rock and roll star thing of moving around the stage and dancing while the instrumentalists soloed, which was something he felt uncomfortable doing. Instead he could just stand perfectly still at the microphone and sing. The first single they released that fit this new style was inspired by a piece of music Fred Foster introduced Orbison to — Ravel’s “Bolero”: [Excerpt: Ravel, “Bolero” (West-Eastern Divan Orchestra)] Orbison and Melson took that basic feel and changed it into what would become Orbison’s first number one in the US, “Running Scared”: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Running Scared”] That song was apparently one that met some resistance from the Nashville A-Team. A chunk of the song is in rubato, or “free time”, where the musicians speed up or slow down slightly to make the music more expressive. This was not something that Bob Moore, in particular, was comfortable with — they were making pop music, weren’t they? Pop music was for kids to dance to, and if kids were going to dance to it, it had to have a steady beat. Orbison wasn’t very good at all at dealing with conflict, and wherever possible he would try to take the most positive attitude possible, and in this case he just went into the control room and waited, while the musicians tried to figure out a way of playing the song in strict tempo, and found it just didn’t work. After a while, Orbison walked back into the studio and said “I think we should play it the way it was written”, and the musicians finally went along with him. It may also have been on “Running Scared” that they pioneered a new recording technique, or at least new for Nashville, which was surprisingly conservative about recording technology for a town so rooted in the music industry. I’ve seen this story written about three different early Orbison songs, and it could have been any of them, but the descriptions of the “Running Scared” session are the most detailed. While Orbison had a great voice, at this point it wasn’t especially powerful, and with the addition of strings, the band were overpowering his voice. At this time, it was customary for singers to record with the band, all performing together in one room, but the sound of the instruments was getting into Orbison’s mic louder than his voice, making it impossible to get a good mix. Eventually, they brought a coatrack covered with coats into the studio, and used it to partition the space — Orbison would stand on one side of it with his mic, and the band and their mics would be on the other side. The coats would deaden the sound of the musicians enough that Orbison’s voice would be the main sound on his vocal mic. In this case, the reason his voice was being overpowered was that right at the end of the song he had to hit a high A in full voice — something that’s very difficult for a baritone like Orbison to do without going into falsetto. It may also be that he was nervous about trying this when the musicians could see him, and the coats in the way helped him feel more secure. Either way, he does a magnificent job on that note: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Running Scared”, tag] Apparently when Chet Atkins popped into the studio for a visit, he was utterly bemused by what he saw — but then he was impressed enough by the idea that he got RCA to build a proper vocal isolation booth at their studios to get the same effect. “Running Scared” also came along just after Orbison made one big change to his image. He’d been on tour with Patsy Cline, promoting “Blue Angel”, and had left his glasses on the plane. As he couldn’t see well without them, he had to resort to using his prescription sunglasses on stage, and was astonished to find that instead of looking gawky and rather odd-looking, the audience now seemed to think he looked cool and brooding. From that point on, he wore them constantly. For the next three years, Orbison and Melson continued working together and producing hits — although Orbison also wrote several hits solo during this time, including “In Dreams”, which many consider his greatest record. But Melson was becoming increasingly convinced that he was the real talent in the partnership. Melson was also putting out singles on his own at this time, and you can judge for yourself whether his most successful solo track, “Hey Mr. Cupid” is better or worse than the tracks Orbison did without him. [Excerpt: Joe Melson, “Hey Mr. Cupid”] Eventually Melson stopped working with Orbison altogether, after their last major collaboration, “Blue Bayou”. This turned out to be the beginning of the collapse of Orbison’s entire life, though it didn’t seem like it at the time. It was the first crack in the team that produced his biggest hits, but for now he was on a roll. He started collaborating with another writer, Bill Dees, and even though Beatlemania was raging in the UK, and later in the US, he was one of a tiny number of American artists who continued to have hits. Indeed, two of the early collaborations by Orbison and Dees were the *only* two records by an American artist to go to number one in the UK between August 1963 and February 1965. The second of those, “Oh, Pretty Woman”, also went to number one in the US, and became one of his most well-known songs: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Oh, Pretty Woman”] That song again caused problems with his new collaborator, as Bill Dees sang the harmony vocals on it, and felt he wasn’t getting enough credit for that. But that was the high point for Orbison. Wesley Rose and Fred Foster had never got on, and Rose decided that he was going to move Orbison over to MGM Records, who gave him an advance of a million dollars, but immediately the hits dried up. And the events of the next few years were the kind of thing that would would break almost anyone. He had divorced his wife Claudette, who had inspired “Oh, Pretty Woman”, in November 1964, just before signing to MGM, because he’d discovered she was cheating on him. But the two of them had been so in love they’d ended up reconciling and remarrying in December 1965. But then six months later, they were out riding motorbikes together, Claudette crashed hers, and she died. And then a little over two years later, while he was on tour in the UK, his house burned down, killing two of his three children. Orbison continued to work, putting out records that no-one was buying, and playing the chicken-in-a-basket circuit in the UK. He even remarried in 1969, and found happiness and a new family with his second wife. But for about twenty years, from 1965 through to 1985, he was in a wilderness period. Between personal tragedy, changing fashions in music, and the heart condition he developed in the 70s, he was no longer capable of making records that resonated with the public, even though his voice was as strong as ever, and he could still get an audience when singing those old hits. And even the old hits were hard to get hold of — Monument Records went bankrupt in the seventies, and reissues of his old songs were tied up in legal battles over their ownership. But then things started to change for him in the mid-eighties. A few modern artists had had hits with cover versions of his hits, but the big change came in 1985, when he collaborated with his fellow ex-Sun performers Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, and Jerry Lee Lewis, on an album called Class of 55: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison and the Class of 55, “Coming Home”] That came out in 1986, and made the top twenty on the country charts — the first time he’d had an album make any chart at all since 1966. Also in 1986, David Lynch used Orbison’s “In Dreams” in his film Blue Velvet, which brought the record to a very different audience. He collaborated with k.d. lang, who was then one of the hottest new singers in country music, on a new version of his hit “Crying”: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison and k.d. lang, “Crying”] That later won a Grammy. He recorded a new album of rerecordings of his greatest hits, which made the lower reaches of the charts. He got inducted into the rock and roll hall of fame, and recorded a live TV special, A Black and White Night, where he was joined by Elvis’ seventies backing band, Bruce Springsteen, Elvis Costello, k.d. lang, Bonnie Raitt, Jackson Browne and Tom Waits, among others, all just acting as backing singers and musicians for a man they admired. He also joined with George Harrison, Jeff Lynne, Tom Petty and Bob Dylan in a supergroup called The Travelling Wilburys, whose first album made the top five: [Excerpt: The Travelling Wilburys, “Handle With Care”] And he recorded an album of new material, his best in decades, Mystery Girl, produced by Lynne and with songs written by Orbison, Lynne, and Petty — along with a couple of songs contributed by famous admirers like Bono and the Edge of U2. But by the time that came out, Orbison was dead — after a day flying model aeroplanes with his sons, he had a heart attack and died, aged only fifty-two. When Mystery Girl came out a couple of months later, it rose to the top five or better almost everywhere — and in the UK and US, he had two albums in the top five at the same time, as in the UK a hits compilation was also up there, while in the US the Wilburys album was still near the top of the charts. Orbison’s is one of the saddest stories in rock music, with one of the greatest talents in history getting derailed for decades by heartbreaking tragedies unimaginable to most of us, and then dying right at the point he was finally starting to get the recognition he deserved. But the work he did, both as a songwriter and as a singer, would inspire people long after his death.

Words & music by George Harrison Dave Drew - vocals, acoustic guitar; Steve Cafarelli - vocals, drums; Frank Mascaro - backing vocals, bass; Scott Kuchler - backing vocals, electric guitar

My guest today is Richard Dodd, A multi-platinum Grammy-winning producer, recording engineer, and mastering engineer with 40 years of amazing credits to his discography. Richard has worked with a long list of artists including Boz Scaggs, George Harrison, Roy Orbison, Wilco, Green Day, Steve Earle, Delbert McClinton, Robert Plant, Roger Daltry, the Travelling Wilburys, Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers, Freddie Mercury to name just a few.  Richard was on the podcast previously for episode RSR096 where we got an introduction to his background story. So on this episode, I thought we would try to focus on mixing.  One of the skills that Richard said he aspires to in recording is learning to stay out of the way and not screw up what the artist is wanting to create. With that in mind, I know Richard can be bold in his mixing and mastering choices. So I’m excited to learn more about his thoughts on creating compelling and memorable records. Thanks to our sponsors! WhisperRoom: https://whisperroom.com Get 10% off the 4x4 or 4x6 booths now when you mention Recording Studio Rockstars: http://whisperroom.com Spectra1964: https://www.spectra1964.com Eventide: https://www.eventideaudio.com OWC - Other World Computing: https://www.OWC.com RoswellProAudio: https://roswellproaudio.com RSR Academy: http://RSRockstars.com/Academy Want to learn more about mixing? Get Free mix training with Lij at: http://MixMasterBundle.com Hear more on Youtube If you love the podcast, then please Leave a review on iTunes here CLICK HERE FOR SHOW NOTES AT: http://RSRockstars.com/238

Kathi, Midge, Luke and Euan return from their pre-season training camps to look ahead to the 2020 season What has impressed … Continue reading →

El sonido básico de la banda se asienta en un toque clásico y puro de guitarras. Escuchas su música y no hay manera de que dejes de pensar en Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. Las armonías vocales, los ritmos, los arreglos. El hippismo de la época de Woodstock es palpable en su repertorio clásico de soft rock y folk rock, de Dylan a los Stones, Beatles, Travelling Wilburys, John Denver, pasando por Buffalo Springfield, con algún trazo psicodélico y textos de amor, paz y libertad, en temas realzados por las armonías vocales de sus componentes; y es que en el momento en que Oh Brother! ponen sus voces en comunión, la cosa se pone seria. Oh Brother, que han pasado por el Bside, el Cartagena Folk y otros escenarios insólitos, estrenan su primer disco, “Una noche en Tejemaneje”, grabado en vivo, completamente desenchufados, con micrófonos de ambiente, donde recogen algunas de sus versiones más destacadas de Americana y folk. Una celebración campestre entre balas de paja. Yipi yai yeiii!!!!!!!!

For episode three Dave and Krister dig into Sinead O'Connor's breakthrough album 'I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got' (you know, the one with Nothing Compares 2 U on it) while also chatting about people like Michael Bolton and Guru Josh along the way. Also marvel at our ability to blithely confuse the Notting Hillbillies with the Travelling Wilburys because we're idiots. Listen along with our spotify playlist for this episode: https://tinyurl.com/yyhloetn

What does Black Sabbath have to do with ELO? Find out when Lex and Dave discuss The Move, ELO, Roy Wood, Wizzard, and all aspects of the Jeff Lynneverse. From Birmingham beginnings to the Travelling Wilburys, Jeff shaped rock history but always stayed true to his roots... and his hair. Bonus points to whoever counts all the times Lex and Dave say "heavy" and tweets the total to them at @thewellofsound Don't forget to hit SUBSCRIBE for more deep dives into the greatest and underappreciated acts in rock, pop, country, and soul. Upcoming episodes include Lindsey Buckingham, KISS, Swamp Dogg, and more... Listen to our Lynneverse playlist at https://open.spotify.com/user/3gcq0cudvqwvsczoolkmh0zao Send suggestions to wellofsoundpodcast@gmail.com And if you like what you hear, be sure to rate the podcast or leave us a review.

Agradece a este podcast tantas horas de entretenimiento y disfruta de episodios exclusivos como éste. ¡Apóyale en iVoox! Hoy os dejamos el capítulo número 201 de la Historia del Rock dedicado al año 1988 (3ª parte) donde podréis escuchar a Bon Jovi, Travelling Wilburys, Lucinda Williams, Iggy Pop, Fugazi, Cinderella, Elton John, U2, REM, Social Distortion, Leonard Cohen, Georgia Satellites, Peter Murphy, The Mission…entre muchos otros! Ayúdanos a compartir, si te gusta. Muchas gracias!!Escucha este episodio completo y accede a todo el contenido exclusivo de La Gran Travesía. Descubre antes que nadie los nuevos episodios, y participa en la comunidad exclusiva de oyentes en https://go.ivoox.com/sq/489260

Welcome to a Travelling Wilburys special on The Western Skyline. This week saw the death of Tom Petty at the age of 66. Rather than play the best known tracks by Petty, I decided to put a playlist together that includes tracks from Petty & the Heartbreakers, but also by his fellow musicians in the […]

Well, we kick off our first proper episode in too long by gathering around ye olde youtube machine and watching a lizard squirt blood from its own eye, so you know we've got a real corker on our hands. Eventually we get around to talking about Incantation and their logo of questionable substance, Autopsy and their hidden-baby cover art, Cryptopsy and their penchant for taking the Nestea plunge, Vomitory and their namesake's theatrical roots, and how Bloodbath are the Travelling Wilburys of death metal! All of this, plus Devin scares some construction workers, Fraz sings some Miley, and we get down to the bottom of a few fathomless mysteries. It's a mixed bag of death in an episode heavy enough to scare ghosts! BRUTAL.

Intervju med Tom Petty i P3-programmet Avsminkat 1987. Rockstjärnan Tom Petty dog av en hjärtattack 2 oktober 2017. Han var frontmannen i bandet Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers och var även med i supergruppen Travelling Wilburys. Här möter journalisten Janeric Sundquist honom för en lång intervju 1987.

Stories about engineering & producing The Traveling Wilburys. Richard Dodd is a multi-platinum Grammy winning producer, recording engineer, and mastering engineer with 40 years of amazing credits to his discography. He began recording hits in the 1970’s like “Kung Fu Fighting,” and has since distinguished himself many times over while working with artists Boz Scaggs, Stephane Grappelli, George Harrison, Clannad, Roy Orbison, Wilco, Green Day, Steve Earle, Delbert McClinton, Robert Plant, Roger Daltry, the Travelling Wilburys, Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers, Freddie Mercury, Placido Domingo, and many more. Leave a Review  Get the full show notes at: http://RSRockstars.com/96 -Also- Free mix training with Lij at: MixMasterBundle.com Get yourself a Rockstar T-shirt at: RSRockstars.com/Tshirt Download the theme music at: SkadooshMusic.com

Marc Stakenburg en Joost Verbunt hebben weer heerlijke muziek uitgezocht voor twee uur MusicTrails. Nummers van The Travelling Wilburys, Sara Watkins, G Love, The Neville Brothers, Ike & Tina Turner, Daniel Romano en Ryan Adams.

Marc Stakenburg en Joost Verbunt hebben weer heerlijke muziek uitgezocht voor twee uur MusicTrails. Nummers van The Travelling Wilburys, Sara Watkins, G Love, The Neville Brothers, Ike & Tina Turner, Daniel Romano en Ryan Adams.

Show Notes Episode 57: Going to the End of the Line This week, host Dave Bledsoe examines the words of the prophets written on the men's room stall and comes to conclusion that some bathroom laws ARE needed--this place is disgusting! The subject of the SHOW this week is the looming end of the Republican Primary and how the candidates are reacting to the unpleasant reality of Trump's inevitable victory. Along the way we look at the storybook career of Carly Fiorina, if the stories were written by the Brother's Grimm. We get our Vaudeville on for some reason and we talk about the Donald's new campaign man's ties to criminals, and not the just ones in the Reagan and Bush Administrations. Shout out to John Boehner who we kinda didn't like in Congress but is really growing on us in private life! Our opener this week is from the movie Election, which is looking more and prescient every day and we close the show with the Travelling Wilburys. Promotional consideration for this week's episode comes from Desperation, a scent for Republicans. Links to Content: Donald Trump Will Be the Republican Nominee for President. Don't Ever Get Used to It. John Boehner Compares Ted Cruz to Satan, Says He Wouldn't Vote for Him in November Our show music by Hypnostate The What the HELL Twitter Feed What the HELL Facebook What the HELL Soundcloud What the HELL Website Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Tonight there is going to be a jailbreak but not in a creepy way. Drew and Eric marinate in the juicy Thin Lizzy album Jailbreak. They also discuss Slade, the Travelling Wilburys, Bruce Springsteen, Joe Satriani, Stu Hamm, Brian Robertson solo efforts, Bob Seger, Jimi Hendrix, Neil Young, and Heavy Metal the Motion Picture File length 2:05:49 File Size 115.4 MB Subscribe to us on iTunes Listen to us on Stitcher Like us on Facebook Follow us on Twitter Send your comments to show@notinacreepyway.com Visit the show website at www.notinacreepyway.com Follow us on Twitter Send your comments to show@notinacreepyway.com Visit the show website at www.notinacreepyway.com

Deke Dickerson and the Trashmen bring us 2 tracks from their latest release, Bringing Back The Trash!  We also hear from Reverend Horton Heat, Southern Culture On The Skids, The Boss & The Killer duet, George Jones, Travelling Wilburys and so much more!   Intro Music bed- Link Wray- "Jack The Ripper" Voice Over- Rob "Cool Daddy" Dempsey   Bill Allen- "Please Give Me Something" Kenny Vaughan- "Train Of Love"   Music bed- Buck Owens- "Buck's Polka"   Jimmy Lloyd- "Rocket In My Pocket" Barbara Clifford & Mondo Cortez- "Nikki Kay" The Diamonds- "The Stroll"   Music bed- The Ventures- "Memphis"   Sonny Burgess- "Steady As She Goes" The Reach Around Rodeo Clowns Rockabilly Deluxe on vinyl :60 spot Jerry Lee Lewis with Bruce Springsteen- "Pink Cadillac Southern Culture On The Skids- "Goo Goo Muck"   Music bed- Link Wray- "Rumble" Dr. Rubin's Pomade   Reverend Horton Heat- "Lonesome Train Whistle" Chuck Berry- "Almost Grown" George Jones- "Race Is On"   Music bed- Glen Campbell- "Walk Don't Run"   Screamin' Rebel Angels- "MayDay" Warren Smith- "Rock N Roll Ruby" Blasters- "Flat Top Joint"   Music bed- Joel Paterson- "Callin' The Cat"   Wanda Jackson- "Hard Headed Woman" Buddy Knox- "Party Doll" Rick Nelson- "Believe What You Say" Traveling Wilburys- "Wilbury Twist"   Music bed- Duane Eddy- "Twistin' N Twangin'"   Deke Dickerson & The Trashmen- "Lotta Lovin'" Deke Dickerson & The Trashmen- "Real Wild Child"   Outro music bed- James Wilsey- "The Rattler"

It's the turn of Doctor Who from Christmas past as Phil and Paul take a look at the 2008 Christmas special The Next Doctor.  During the course of dissecting this story of Cybermen and mistaken identity, you will hear things that have nothing to do with the episode in hand, like Tom Petty, Roy Orbison, The Travelling Wilburys, The Crying Boy, The Blue Boy and Labradoodles.  Now what other podcast brings you such a wide range of topics eh? And in the news this week there are plenty of surpises in store for this years Christmas special, The Snowmen and updates on next years BFI 50th Anniversary events and DVD releases. We would also like to wish all our listeners a very Merry Christmas!!