INSTANT KARMA by John Lennon.
Released as a single 1970. Available on The John Lennon Collection CD.
John Lennon was one of rock music’s finest singers and songwriters. His work with the Beatles remains unparalleled. Yet I find that much of his post-Beatle work has not aged very well. His Plastic Ono Band and Imagine albums hold up the best. The former is Lennon’s cathartic scream over his painful childhood and the bitter Beatles’ break-up. It is powerful, gut-wrenching stuff and many of the performances are the best of his career (the vocals on “God” and “Isolation” still give me goose bumps) but it’s often difficult to connect with such personal statements. Imagine is generally glossier, more lightweight. Its songs are pleasant, melodic and in the end, unchallenging. Other than the thoughtful utopian title track, many of the album’s lyrics are rather mawkish. Lennon’s attack on Paul McCartney in “How Do You Sleep?” comes off as plain mean and slightly silly, considering the two songs before and after it (“Oh My Love” and “How?”) veer close to the muzak Lennon accuses McCartney of making. The rest of Lennon’s solo albums are even more patchy affairs. So whenever I feel like listening to some John Lennon music, I have a hard time deciding on what to play. I find none of his original solo albums is really satisfying.
Lennon was a true rock ‘n’ roller at heart so it’s appropriate that he was at his best on the original medium for the rock ‘n’ roll song, the single. This is why his most rewarding album may be a compilation of his hits called The John Lennon Collection, the only place to find his early single releases. My favorite of these is Lennon’s second solo single release, “Instant Karma.”
Producer Phil Spector, known for his bombastic mini-symphonic work on numerous hits in the sixties, often employed a lean, spare sound on Lennon’s early recordings. Only the most basic combo of piano, bass and drums seems to be behind Lennon’s vocals on “Instant Karma.” Such simple instrumentation has rarely sounded so huge, however. Spector can’t resist building his Wall of Sound even when he only has a few musical bricks to work with. The echo applied to the drums gives them a distinctive thump and thwack, while a chorus of percussive hand claps reinforces the backbeat. The bass has a rumble a couple miles deep and what sounds like the world’s largest piano turns out to be no less than three keyboards playing the same block chords simultaneously. Finally, Spector adds a “bathroom tile” reverb echo to Lennon’s vocals to give them a short, sharp attack, an effect Lennon loved so much he used it up through his final recording session ten years later.
Musically, “Instant Karma” shares the same chord progression as the Beatles’ “All You Need Is Love.” Lyrically, the song is a harder-edged run through of the ideals that show up later in “Imagine.”
Instant Karma’s gonna get you
Gonna knock you off your feet
Better recognize your brothers
Ev’ryone you meet
Why in the world are we here?
Surely not to live in pain and fear
Why on earth are you there
When you’re everywhere
Come and get your share
Well, we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Well, we all shine on
Come on, ev’ryone
The sentiments are pretty close to “Imagine all the people/Sharing all the world. . . ,” aren’t they? “Imagine” may be John Lennon’s most beautiful and well-remembered tune but “Instant Karma” blends his idealism with his first love, straight ahead rock ‘n’ roll. In other words, it’s pure John Lennon. Shine on, John.
WHAT’S GOING ON by Marvin Gaye.
From the album What’s Going On, 1971.
Hey, I just realized the message of Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” is remarkably similar to the one in “Instant Karma” and “Imagine.” I guess we’re on a little “world peace and harmony” roll here. It’s strange the coincidences that pop up when you throw songs together and start examining them. Gaye’s song is more of a protest song than the Lennon tunes are though. Despite the mention of long hair and Vietnam, Gaye’s lyrics still sound as poignant as they were over two decades ago. Like “Imagine,” its sentiments are universal.
The fact that “What’s Going On” is one hell of a performance only helps to give it an ageless quality. It was here that Gaye first experimented with weaving two or three different vocals together. From the smooth restrained delivery of the introductory lines to the soulful pleading of the chorus, the range of timbres in Gaye’s voice is astonishing enough. But the way he intertwines both styles creates a startling atmosphere of understatement and unbridled passion that is perfect for conveying the song’s fervent message of hope and peace.
Even disregarding Marvin Gaye’s masterful singing and arranging (if that’s even possible), the song itself is a powerfully great one. The way it starts quietly and slowly builds to the chorus, until the instrumental interlude breaks the song free and makes it soar, commands attention. If “What’s Going On” were an instrumental piece, people would still sit up and take notice. Indeed, cover versions of the song include renditions by artists as diverse as Cyndi Lauper and Los Lobos. And the song seems to keep its strength no matter who delivers it.
Marvin Gaye’s recording is an outstanding take of an invincible tune with a timeless message. Humankind will be asking the chorus’ question till the end of time so the song will always be relevant. Can a song help save the world? “What’s Going On” makes me believe it’s possible.
JESUS by The Velvet Underground.
From the album The Velvet Underground, 1969.
My first two song selections concern world salvation. Now it’s time for some personal salvation:
Jesus, help me find my proper place
Jesus, help me find my proper place
Help me in my weakness
‘Cause I’ve fallen out of grace
Jesus, Jesus
A prayer. Repeated three times. That’s the entire song. Simple as that.
Well, really not all that simple. The Velvet Underground were never a simple band. Their album White Light/White Heat came out at the end of 1967, the year of the Summer of Love. No one quite knew what to make of the aural equivalent of William Burrough’s Naked Lunch. Full of speed trips, operations, transvestites and blowjobs, White Light totally went against the “All You Need is Love” spirit of the times. But a few people were listening. The molten slabs of feedback and noise became the prototype for punks like Iggy and the Stooges and the New York Dolls who came along later in the seventies.
The following album, The Velvet Underground, was as subdued as White Light was noisy. Guitarist Sterling Morrison said that part of the reason for the change in sound was that most of the band’s equipment was stolen before the recording sessions. Lou Reed says he wanted to show another side of the group. Whatever the reason, after the debauchery of White Light, The Velvet Underground’s cry for redemption is the perfect antidote.
The sound is still electric but with the amps turned way down low. The vocals and the strummed 12 string guitars are hushed, almost as if we’re eavesdropping on a bedroom rehearsal. “Jesus” captures this intimate ambiance best of all. There are no drums and there may not be a bass guitar either. The plucked bass notes could be just the lower strings of one of the two guitars being played. The recording might actually be of three people. Morrison and Reed on guitars, with Reed and bassist Doug Yule, who replaced original member John Cale shortly before the sessions, on vocals. But the picture the performance conjures up is of two people sitting on a bed and facing each other as they softly sing and play their guitars. The song begins with barely audible alternating bass notes, followed by a little bent note guitar riff that mimics the “Je-sus, Je-sus” lyrics heard later on. Careful and tentative, the vocals start out barely more than a whisper. The voices become bolder as they sing, “Help me in my weakness. . . ” as the guitars gradually build in volume. Suddenly, the guitars drop out and the vocals quiet as they reach the end of the line with “grace,” letting the word float in the air. The state grace regained once again. Reed and Yule quietly call out “Jesus, Jesus” at the end of the verse, and wait for the guitars to come back and start all over again. I’ve been listening to the song for years and only discovered that it had one verse as I sat down to write this essay.
A simple song that somehow doesn’t sound simple. Amazing what a little prayer can do.
TUMBLING DICE by the Rolling Stones.
From the album Exile On Main Street, 1972.
You were either a Beatle fan or a Rolling Stones fan. That’s the way it was when I was growing up. I was a Beatle fan. So I am by no means an expert on Rolling Stones music. I’m still in the process of discovering it. In fact, I bought my first vinyl copies of Beggar’s Banquet and Let It Bleed only a few months ago. This is the first time I’ve really sat down and listened to these early albums. And I like ’em.
I did hear many of the Stones hits like “Brown Sugar” and “Honky Tonk Woman” on the radio back in the old days. While I might not have admitted it to anyone, I liked the dangerous swagger of their sound. And nothing sounded so deliciously wicked as “Tumbling Dice.”
One thing I’ve noticed about the Stones is that even at their most rocking, they have a relaxed cool about them that makes everything sound so effortless. Listen to the lazy slash of Keith Richards’ guitar work and the precise ease of Charlie Watts’ drumming on “Tumbling Dice.” Then there’s Mick Jagger’s vocals which meander and slur all over the place. Critic Dave Marsh believes that Jagger is making up the lyrics as he goes along. That’s possible since only a few select phrases are decipherable. “You can be my partner in crime,” “Sixes and sevens and nines,” just enough to make things sound slightly sordid and enticing. The “Got to roll me” chant at the end brings up all sorts of seedy connotations. Rolling dice as in gambling, taking someone’s money as in rolling a drunk and then there is the sexual meaning too, of course. Sex, crime, gambling, all the stuff your parents warned you about. Hey, this is classic rock ‘n’ roll!
The Rolling Stones were experts at exploiting the “bad boy” side of rock ‘n’ roll and made it work for them for a long time. Their sixties and early seventies work is powerfully seductive like the best and dirtiest blues and r&b records. They hardly ever sounded false. Later they turned the image into an institution and looked ridiculous a lot of the time. A woman I work with saw the Stones on their last tour and about all she could say about them was that they were so polite. I guess it’s difficult to cultivate the “bad boy” persona when you’re pushing sixty. Ah well, at least we have their old records to go back and listen to. On “Tumbling Dice” the Stones still sound as good, and as raunchy, as ever.
SO SAD ABOUT US by The Who.
From the album A Quick One, 1966.
So much Who music could easily find a place on my list of favorite songs. “The Kids Are Alright,” “Pictures of Lily,” “Pure and Easy,” “Substitute,” just to name a few. (This list is still young so I could still end up writing about some of these other Who faves.) As I was compiling a tape of songs to consider for this zine, I knew I wanted to include a Who selection. I kept returning to the somewhat obscure “So Sad About Us.”
As far as I know, “So Sad About Us” was never a hit. It’s buried on the second side of the Who’s second album. Yet the song has always been one of my favorites. Imagine my surprise when Pete Townshend used a charming early demo of “So Sad” to kick off the first volume of home recordings titled Scoop. Imagine my horror as the recording cuts off in mid-song! Ouch! However, the fragment that survives is a melancholy little ditty, carried by Townshend’s winsome vocal and lilting acoustic guitar accompaniment. It may be my favorite moment on either one of the Scoop collections.
By the time the rest of the Who get their hands on it, the gentleness of the demo transforms “So Sad” into a mighty slab of power pop. Townshend’s tuneful finger picking has now grown into one of his full-blown trademark chord progressions. (I’ve always loved how Townshend puts chords together. Listen to the intro to “Pinball Wizard” again sometime.) John Entwistle’s bass has a metallic buzz overtone that I haven’t heard anywhere else. Keith Moon’s drumming is wildly all over the map, yet at the same time locks into the rhythm of Townshend’s playing and holds the song together. Ever the tough guy, Roger Daltrey’s singing still manages to retain the sadness of the lyrics but in a way that says, “Hey, listen here! I’m hurting!” All in all, it’s a winning performance. Without grand operatic statements or big productions, on “So Sad About Us,” the Who sound like a band bashing away just for the sheer joy of it. Sometimes that can say more than all the rock operas in the world.
THE KKK TOOK MY BABY AWAY by the Ramones.
From the albums Pleasant Dreams, 1981 & Ramonesmania, 1988.
No one has done so much with so few chords. The Ramones blend the urgency of punk with the melodic hooks of sixties bubblegum pop. Their compact tunes, rarely exceeding the two minute mark, may sound simplistic but the Ramones are no dummies. They know what makes a good rock ‘n’ roll song. A good beat, a catchy chorus and lyrics that are biting and funny. Really, their albums are pretty much interchangeable but you can’t go wrong with the 30 track Ramonesmania best of collection. It’s all here. From the early cartoon punk blasts of “I Wanna Be Sedated” and “Teenage Lobotomy,” to “Bonzo Goes to Bitburg’s” pointed political commentary and a nifty cover of the Searchers’ hit “Needles and Pins.” The song that I end up playing more than once whenever I put the CD on though is “The KKK Took My Baby Away,” a sort of twisted rewrite of “I Fought the Law.”
I love everything about this song. The introductory power chords separated by the rousing “Hey! Ho!” chant. The way the song modulates up a key midway through to turn the excitement up a notch (sure, an old trick but I’m not complaining when it works so well). And then what about the absurdist lyrics? The singer has lost his girlfriend. Not just to another guy. No. It seems that the mean old KKK has done gone and taken her away. He doesn’t know why they would do such a thing or where they took her but not even the President or the FBI will help him find out. What’s a guy to do? He could vent his frustrations in a two minute 31 second slice of punk ‘n’ pop, that’s what. Works for me.
“HEY! HO!”
REAL ENOUGH TO LOVE by Jules & the Polar Bears.
From the album fenetiks, 1979.
From the “dumb” pop of the Ramones to Jules Shear, one of pop’s most intelligent songwriters. Shear has been writing his finely crafted, heart tugging songs for over two decades now. I first discovered him when he led his criminally overlooked band named Jules and the Polar Bears. 1978’s Got No Breeding is an eclectic album full of McCartneyesque melodies and punk rock energy, topped off by Shear’s machine gun lyrics. With a voice a friend of mine once described as “a constipated Jackson Browne,” Shear infuses each song with unrestrained pathos. (I seem to have a penchant for singers with “bad” or “different” voices. Maybe what I like is that they have to search for unique ways of using their limitations and in the process come, up with an even more effective way of expressing themselves. That’s my theory anyway.)
While many of the songs on Got No Breeding literally go from a whisper to a scream and back again, the next album fenetiks (Actually Phonetics. All the titles and lyrics are printed phonetically on the record sleeve, of course.) isn’t quite as scattershot. The more uniform production makes the songs more cohesive But with Jules in charge the proceedings are still on the wild side. “Smell of Home” has to be the wordiest reggae song of all time. The Bo Diddley beat never sounded so acid fried as it does on “All Caked Up.” The chaos really only lets up once for the ballad “Real Enough to Love.” And even this song starts out a little skewed.
“Real Enough to Love” opens with a dramatic guitar solo that sounds as if Pink Floyd has come to visit, belying the tenderness that follows as Shear earnestly sings:
The finish don’t need to run too deep
And the polish still will shine
And you shined like a ghoul
I was more fun than school
So we lived in each other’s time
And your studying took
What was in those big black books
To be maps of the promised land
You found where everything led
With that map in your head
And nothing with your hands
A weakness real enough to love
I know these jokes too well for me
To laugh without a tear
Like many of Shear’s early lyrics, they are obscure but the images hook you in. I particularly like “lived in each other’s time.” It sounds like the glow of new love. Yet an underlying sadness lingers throughout. The way the music surges as Jules sings the three line chorus and they way his voice breaks on “without a tear” is touching beyond belief. And real enough for me to love.
LOVE IS ALL I HAVE TO GIVE by the Checkmates.
Released in 1969. Available on the album Phil Spector: Back to Mono 1958-1969.
“Love is All I Have to Give” is a rather ironic title for a record that Phil Spector is responsible for. In all the accounts that I’ve read about the man, love is one thing that Spector doesn’t give out freely. He has been a monster toward his wives, his sons and just about everyone else involved with him. But man, this monster has an ear. Some people believe that those who are geniuses in a specific area are often atrophied in other areas of life. Phil Spector is certainly a good example to hold up in support of this theory.
Listening to the three disc Back to Mono set is an overwhelming experience. It’s one great song after the other, each one sporting the rich, deep sound that makes them all “teenage symphonies,” as Spector liked to call them. Listening to Back to Mono for the first time convinced me that I’ve now heard every musical trick that Spector ever had up his sleeve. How could there be any surprises left? Then the final song on the last disc begins. Boy, was I wrong.
“Black Pearl” is the Checkmates’ best known song and also one of Spector’s last productions to become a hit. It’s a smooth soul number that sounds understated next to Spector’s earlier work. “Love is All I Have to Give” was the group’s previous single. It was a total flop but the lush strings and enormous sound undeniably mark the song as a Phil Spector effort. An obscure non-hit seems a curious finale for such a grand collection of music. Except that in the song’s last 30 seconds, Spector may perform his greatest hat trick of all.
As the orchestra comes to its final crashing crescendo and the singer pleads, “Take me back and let me liiiive again!,” a thousand mandolins start trilling away (Spector used this on John Lennon’s “Happy Christmas” a couple years later too). Most of the rest of the instruments fall away, the vocalist continues on, “And that one life is all I got to live. . .” and then it happens. From out of nowhere comes a lone violin. It takes an operatic flight up the scale then holds a few notes, creating an astonishing weeping effect. The whole thing is so outrageous that it bowled me over! This one moment is worth the price of all of the discs. The violin’s majestic entrance secures “Love is All I Have to Give” a place on my list of Spector favorites.
Only Phil Spector could take such a hokey device and turn it into a masterstroke. Perhaps it takes an egomaniacal bastard to even think of doing such a thing and then be brave enough to actually pull it off. I wouldn’t want to know or be anywhere near him but I’ll gladly listen to the creations of this troubled soul.
JULY 11-19, 1998
Letter to the Vatican 