BACK HOME by Willie Nile
From the album Streets of New York, 2006
New York rocker Willie Nile was a popular live act around the city’s clubs in the late 1970s. He recorded two albums for Arista in the early 1980s, but was sidelined by legal disputes and didn’t release another album until 1991. Nile kept active throughout the decade, with his live shows and CDs often receiving critical praise. His 2006 release Streets of New York is a stunning collection that mixed the street-smart, romantic melodicism of Springsteen with keen Dylanesque lyricism and rough, punky energy. Nile’s career has rarely slowed since.
An album highlight is the breezy piano-based epic “Back Home,” a winding journey that’s part autobiography, part nostalgic psychedelic dream of decades past. Its easy-going melody lets prose unfurl from one kaleidoscopic scene to another.
One day I was born early on a Tuesday morn
Heard Gabriel blow his horn trying to find my way I
Rocked the cradle one of eight in a hurry I couldn’t wait
Stood outside of Heaven’s Gate trying to find my way
Educated in private schools I heard the laughter of a thousand fools
Bent the tree and broke the rules trying to find my way
Back home
I went to New York town found a square and walked around
Saw people sleeping on the ground trying to find my way I
Gazed out among the stars crawled through the smoky bars
Played the harp and blues guitars trying to find my way I
Came upon a sacred cow in a field behind the plow
I said “call me later but see me now” trying to find my way
Back home
As the music intensifies, Nile’s voice rises to create an uplifting two-line hook.
I’m learning to fly but I don’t have my wings
Seems the harder I try the more the mockingbird sings
Some may find Willie Nile’s work rather prosaic. But for me, his unflagging enthusiasm and endless ear-catching tunefulness delivers all that is right in the rock ‘n’ roll tradition. Just turn it up and enjoy!
NIGHTFALLS by Willy DeVille
From the album Miracle, 1987
Willy DeVille‘s group Mink DeVille was the house band at CBGB’s in the mid-1970s. The singer cut an impressive figure, sporting a pompadour and sharp suits that mirrored his love for 1950s/1960s rock ‘n’ roll and R&B. Although well respected by critics and fellow musicians, DeVille never seemed to receive the attention of his NYC music scene peers, such as the Ramones, Talking Heads and Television. Mink DeVille issued a series of fine LPs until Willy went solo with Miracle in 1987. Mark Knopfler‘s production was rather slick, but the album did include some great songs, including the mournful ballad “Nightfalls.”
Even though the studio version features splendid guitar fills by Knopfler, I prefer a later 2002 live Berlin performance with only piano and string bass. This “Nightfalls” rendition matches the eloquent romantic desolation of Arthur Alexander‘s soul ballads. DeVille’s vocal is more confident here on stage and a lonely, haunted atmosphere accentuates the longing heartache of the lyrics. DeVille anxiously awaits seeing his lover as the sun goes down and the stars come out every night. You can picture him waiting at dusk, looking up at her window for the light to come on as all the nocturnal sights and sounds envelope him. The arrangement is almost a sketch, with sparse piano chords tugging at the emotions, and cool, flowing bass notes floating around like an evening breeze. Perhaps only Frank Sinatra in his prime could capture such late night desire so well.
WELL. . . ALL RIGHT by Buddy Holly
B-side of the “Heartbeat” single, 1958
ALL I’VE GOTTA DO by the Beatles
From the album With the Beatles, 1963
“Well. . . All Right” was originally released as the b-side to Buddy Holly’s 1958 “Heartbeat” single. The song may be best known from the histrionic version on Blind Faith’s only album. Holly’s original recording features Buddy’s vocals and acoustic guitar, Jerry Allison’s brushed cymbals and triangle, and Joe Mauldin’s standup bass. This folky, stripped down instrumentation gives the song a timeless quality, without a trace of any 1950s rock ‘n’ roll fingerprints. Holly’s singing is remarkably relaxed, eschewing his trademark hiccups, while his fluid, rhythmic guitar picking keeps things moving. Allison’s unique metallic drumless percussion ebbs and flows, adding effortless dynamic tension. Mauldin’s steady bass beats keep everything together. Anyone hearing the song today might mistake it for a contemporary Americana release.
The Beatles’ “All I’ve Got to Do,” from their 1963 sophomore album, has never seemed to get much attention, though it’s always been a favorite of mine. The backing may consist of the group’s usual bass, electric guitars and drums configuration, but somehow ends up feeling like a folk song. John Lennon’s nonchalant vocals temper the choppy electric guitars down to a subtle rhythmic pulse. Listening to Ringo Starr’s drumming, I just now realized that it’s almost a quieter take on his “Ticket to Ride” cadence. Bright vocal harmonies on the chorus turn up the energy without overwhelming the cool, dusky groove. I say “All I’ve Got to Do” is a great overlooked underdog in the Beatles’ cannon that exemplifies a sophistication found even in their early work.
RISE by Public Image Limited
From the album Album, 1987
“It is folksy,” says John Lydon of “Rise,” his biggest hit with Public Image Ltd. The lyrics may concern heavy topics, such as apartheid and police torture techniques, but their repeated catch phrases, “Anger is an energy” and “May the road rise with you,” transform the song’s heady blend of punk, rap and funk into what could be a children’s nursery rhyme or Irish folk tune. Producer Bill Laswell assembled a motley crew of high caliber names to back Lydon’s provocative call against violence. Jazz legend Tony Williams provides deep, thunderous drum fills, fusion violinist L. Shankar brings an Eastern World Music flavor to the mix, and Steve Vai’s ringing guitar arpeggios are featured throughout, until he lets loose with a squalling solo at the end. Laswell himself plays distinctive bending bass lines that feel off center while still remaining tight. Lydon delivers what is perhaps his finest vocal turn, expressing rage, anger, frustration, and in the end, encouragement and hope. He tautly enunciates every word in order to convey his intent. Despite an awful lot of divergent musical styles and emotions thrown into a single song, “Rise” spectacularly rises to the occasion and is a lasting, masterful, danceable achievement.
FULL MOON by Sandy Denny
Recorded 1976. Released on Who Knows Where the Time Goes?, 1986
Out of all the beautiful work that English folk-rock vocalist Sandy Denny produced during her short life, it’s ironic that perhaps her best performance was never released in her lifetime. The lush, orchestrated ballad “Full Moon” was recorded for her fourth and final solo album Rendezvous, issued in 1977. It was only one of three songs recorded live in the studio all in one day. Both “I’m a Dreamer” and “No More Sad Refrains” made it onto the album, but “Full Moon” was dropped because it was felt the LP already had enough ballads. The song finally appeared on the 1986 box set Who Knows Where the Time Goes?, which is where I first heard and fell in love with it.
After a short orchestral introduction, Denny’s piano and subdued, sublime vocals come in. She sings about watching the moon through a windowpane while remembering a past lover. Her wistful sadness is conveyed by the way Sandy stretches notes and key phrases, sometimes lifting the intensity, but mostly hanging back as if deep in thought. The internationally famous clarinetist Acker Bilk supplies a smoky, lower register solo, evoking the late night melancholy, and then continues to quietly dance around Denny’s voice throughout the rest of the song. (An alternate arrangement with a violin solo by former Fairport Convention bandmate Dave Swarbrick has also been released.) The entire performance is breathtaking, capped off by Sandy singing the title phrase in an almost whispered, slowly rising cadence. This wonderful voice was silenced in 1978 after Denny fatally fell down the stairs while staying at a friend’s home.
SITTIN’ ON A PITCHFORK by the Young Fresh Fellows
From the album Electric Bird Digest, 1991
Around 1991, I saw quite a few gigs by Seattle’s Young Fresh Fellows. At the time, the band seemed to be around wherever I happened to be. They always put on a fun, lively show and were nice enough to even give me a ride home a few times afterwards. Also during this time, the band released Electric Bird Digest, produced by Butch Vig, who worked with Nirvana, the Smashing Pumpkins, Sonic Youth and Green Day. Vig gave the Fellows a powerful, focused sound for what was perhaps their strongest, most cohesive album yet. Their usual wacky humor was still evident, though it didn’t spin out of control like on some of the band’s earlier work, relying instead on the strength of the music. My favorite on the album was “Sittin’ on a Pitchfork,” a chugging rocker with an unrelenting earworm chorus. It reminds me of “Picture Book,” a fixture of the Fellows’ setlist that took me forever to realize was actually a Kinks song. Beneath “Pitchfork”’s joyous musical noise, a little bit of sarcastic darkness creeps into the lyrics, presenting a slightly world-weary Young Fresh Fellows. I still love its uneasy juxtaposition.
‘cause I thought the world
Was a very bad place
But I’ve changed my mind
Since you slugged me in the face
SIDE ONE
SIDE TWO
SIDE THREE
SIDE FOUR
SIDE FIVE
JUNE 14, 2024
Letter to the Vatican 