The Residents - The Commercial Album

Although I didn't like living in California all that much in the first couple of months after I moved there from Massachusetts in 1980 (as I mentioned here) , I quickly came to love and appreciate it. California, and the Monterey Peninsula in particular, were so much different from the things I'd known and experienced while living on the East Coast for most of my life. I'm not just talking about the weather there - it was the entire attitude and vibe of the place that I came to enjoy.

Generally, in Monterey I felt less constrained, both socially and literally. My family moved to California from a very wealthy and quite snobby small town on Massachusetts' South Shore, where the cliques and castes were rigidly defined and heavily defended, especially in school. In addition, the town was far enough away from the influence of larger cities like Boston, and isolated just enough (due to proximity and economic status) from the neighboring towns, that the community mindset was quite insular and constrained. When you lived there, you weren't aware of it as much. But upon my relocation to the West Coast, I began to realize how much of a cage I was in back in New England.

At my new high school, a lot of that 'clique' and 'status' crap, while still present, was toned down considerably over what I had previously experienced. Generally, everyone was cool with everyone else. Years later, when I began to spend time in San Francisco, one thing that struck me about that city was that, on the whole, people didn't give a shit who you were and what you were up to, just so long as what you were into wasn't illegal or being a nuisance or bother to them. I then realized that that attitude wasn't restricted to San Fran - Monterey had that same kind of vibe going.

For me, the new openness I felt there was reflected in the design and curriculum of the school. All of my life on the East Coast, I attended brick-and-mortar monolithic schools, everything contained within the same structure - juvenile jails without bars, places where students were all but locked in (except for recess) from 8 am to 3 pm. Monterey High was my first experience with an open structure - several buildings spread around the campus and grouped around a courtyard, allowing you to at least get some air and see the sky en route between classes. And students weren't required to be on school grounds all day; if you had a free period or other long breaks between classes, you were allowed to head out into the nearby downtown area to do whatever the heck you wanted. This was absolutely mind-blowing to me, being able to go to Round Table Pizza on Alvarado Street with Jeff and Rick and Jim and my other buddies for lunch! It was a novel concept to be treated like a responsible human being there, instead of a knuckleheaded kid.

That different attitude seemed to be everywhere - a guy I knew in school turned down a college scholarship so he could go surfing in Australia for a year; the Dream Theater on Prescott Avenue constantly pulled in crowds for late-night weekend showings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show; Pac-Man came out in the States early that fall, and was so popular that even my straightlaced mother was known to sneak over to the airport game room to play it; Carmel and Cannery Row were as yet mostly untouched by commercialism or tourists, and were still full of history and interesting activities; and the town's leading florist operated out of the "Planet Claire Flower Shop".

For me, California was just so COOL, and so much in the forefront of everything that was happening, much more than anyplace else I'd ever been.

One weekend that fall, my folks and siblings had gone out for the evening, leaving me by my lonesome in an otherwise vacant home. Bored, I turned the TV on and started flipping around the dial. I landed on a program that immediately caught my interest called "Videowest", airing on a public television station out of San Francisco. "Videowest" was a music video program, predating the premiere of MTV by almost a year.

Although the origins of short filmed musical performances date back to before the 1930s [believe it or not, the term "music video" was coined by none other than DJ and singer J. P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson, who died in the 1959 plane crash with Buddy Holly and Richie Valens], in the U.S. in the late '70s/early '80s, they were still considered novelties and rarities, and people got very excited here whenever the odd one would pup up on TV every once in a while. The British Commonwealth countries were way ahead of the U.S. in pioneering, developing and disseminating the music video format - Australia's video program "Countdown" began airing in 1974, New Zealand's "Radio With Pictures" started in 1976, and Britain's "Top Of The Pops" began showing music videos in 1977. But in these parts, the only chance you had of seeing the odd one would be a one-off airing on a music or variety show. I remember seeing a video for XTC's "Making Plans For Nigel" in late 1979 (can't remember what show it was on) and being completely stunned. And I recall when "Saturday Night Live" had the U.S. premiere of Paul McCartney & Wings' then-groundbreaking "Coming Up" video (with McCartney simultaneously playing various roles, predating Outkast's "Hey Ya!" clip's use of this concept by almost 25 years) in May 1980 - I thought it was amazingly innovative and cool. But in my experience and to my knowledge, at that time there was no weekly show anywhere in the States that aired music videos exclusively . . . until I stumbled onto "Videowest".

Every week, "Videowest" would usually concentrate on a particular theme or genre, and intersperse music videos among interviews, commentary and humorous pieces related to that theme. A couple of program samples, with the themes of "Television" and "Beauty", can be found here and here (the music videos have been removed due to licensing issues). It was all very arty and avant garde, as properly befitted a show out of San Francisco. And while all of that was interesting, my main reason for tuning in was to see the videos, almost all of which were on the cutting edge of music of that time.

The first Devo videos I ever saw (including "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction", "The Day My Baby Gave Me a Surprize" and "Girl U Want") were aired on "Videowest", along with my first exposure to a 'new' band out of New Zealand called Split Enz and their first semi-big U.S. hit, "I Got You". The first time I ever saw or heard of Laurie Anderson was through the show, the start of my lifelong fascination with her work. "Videowest" sometimes served as a showcase for obscure San Francisco bands as well. One night, I was treated to a video for the song "(Sooner Or Later) Some Of My Lies Are True" by a bar band with a local following, Huey Lewis & The News - my first glimpse of a band that became international superstars a few years later.

In the minds of many viewers and critics at the time (myself included), Devo was considered to be the most innovative and groundbreaking of the early music video pioneers. Their clips were so off-the-wall and visually mesmerizing, no other band could even come close to what they were doing . . . or so I thought. One evening in early 1981, "Videowest" devoted an entire show to the videos of a band they claimed out-Devo-ed Devo, an obscure, secretive San Francisco collective called The Residents. What I was treated to that night were some of the most off-kilter and disturbing videos that any band had dared to make at that time (or any time thereafter, in my opinion). Almost all of the clips were for songs off of the most recent Residents release, The Commercial Album - a disc containing forty songs, all exactly sixty seconds long.

The origin and background of The Residents is murky and steeped in mystery - to the point that the identities of the group members are officially unknown. As Wikipedia states:

"Throughout the group's existence, the individual members have ostensibly attempted to operate under anonymity, preferring instead to have attention focused on their art output. Much outside speculation and rumor has focused on this aspect of the group. In public, the group appears silent and costumed, often wearing eyeball helmets, top hats and tuxedos - a long-lasting costume now recognized as their signature iconography."

According to information released by the band (which may or may not be entirely factual), The Residents are all natives of Shreveport, Louisiana, and met when they were all in high school there in the 1960s. After graduation, they all headed to California as a group, at first settling in San Mateo in 1966 when the van they were traveling in broke down there, and later moving to San Francisco in the early 1970s. While in San Mateo, they began working on various art projects involving photography, sculpture and experimental recordings on crude reel-to-reel tape recorders. Over the next several years, the band made dozens, possibly hundreds, of recordings of their decidedly weird music and sounds. In 1971, they forwarded one of these reel-to-reel tapes to Warner Brothers, hoping to receive the same type of consideration and support that Warners had provided to their musical heroes, label artist Captain Beefheart. But Warner Brothers rejected the recording out of hand. Since the group had not included a name on their mailing address, the rejection letter included with the returned tapes was addressed to "The Residents" . . . and thus a band name was born.

Soon after their major label rejection, the band moved to San Francisco and started their own label, Ralph Records, to release their music. Their first studio album on the label, Meet The Residents, was put out in 1974. Throughout the '70s, the band was prolific, releasing five more albums, several singles and EPs, and for several years working on an ambitious (but ultimately unfinished) film project called Vileness Fats, which if completed would have been the first long-form music video. The Commercial Album, their seventh studio album, was released in 1980.

On "Videowest", the concept behind The Commercial Album was explained as such: the standard three-minute pop song played on the radio generally consists of a verse, chorus and break, repeated three times. It was the idea of The Residents to distill this standard structure down to its essence - a song comprised of a single verse, chorus and break lasting just one minute. That way, if a listener wanted a "pop song", all her or she had to do was play each tune on the album three times in a row.

It was both a wickedly subversive idea, and a hilarious way to take the piss out of popular radio fare, which the band considered to be too rigidly formulaic, by converting this commercial music into ACTUAL 'commercial' (as in 60-second radio/television commercial) music. To that end, and also to promote their album, The Residents purchased 40 one-minute advertising slots on San Francisco's most popular Top-40 station at the time (KFRC). Over three days, the station was obligated to play each track of their album during those station breaks - a brilliant way to promote their album, while simultaneously blurring the line between art and commerce.

The band members wrote and played on every song on the album, and got some help from their friends during the recording, using Phil "Snakefinger" Lithman and Fred Frith for some session work, along with anonymous guest vocalists Lene Lovich and XTC's Andy Partridge on a couple of songs. And in keeping with their arty multimedia background, The Residents completed music videos to accompany many of the songs, several of which were featured that night on "Videowest". Here are but a couple of examples of the clips that charmed, frightened, and jolted me that evening (the link below includes videos for "Moisture", "The Act Of Being Polite" "Perfect Love" and "The Simple Song", all of which were featured on the show):



The thirty-minute presentation I watched that evening was my only exposure to The Residents for a very long time. But the memory of their music and those mind-bending videos lingered with me for years, past the end of high school and well into college . . .

My four years at Navy was the time when I really began to expand my music collection, searching far and wide for the latest sounds of that era (mostly punk, post-punk and New Wave - hey, it WAS the mid-80s!). I quickly exhausted my search for non-mainstream music in the shops that were the most easily accessible to me, namely the Midshipman's Store and the record retailer at Annapolis Mall (neither locale known for being smoldering hotbeds for unconventional albums). So I began to expand my horizons and look further afield. An acquaintance of mine, a fellow "weird music" fanatic, tipped me off regarding an obscure used record store located in a small industrial park area of Annapolis, down West Street between the McDonalds and the old Parole Shopping Center. So one warm weekend afternoon during my Second Class (junior) year, I put on my summer white uniform, laced up my shoes, and began the four-mile walk towards this reputed place (I had no car, it was too remote to be served by bus, and I was too cheap to hire a cab).

I found the small shop tucked away down a side street, amidst machine shops and auto repair facilities. The hippie-fied owner looked as alien and unfamiliar to me as I'm sure I looked to him - a midshipman clad in gleaming white strolling into his dank, out-of-the-way store. As nonchalantly as I could, I made my way over to his stacks, which were mostly vinyl. A glance at his wares confirmed what I suspected from my first glimpse of the proprietor - most of what he had to offer were '60s Woodstock rock/'concept' albums and '70s prog rock freakouts. I had the sinking feeling that I had come all that way for nothing. But out of both politeness and boredom, I lingered a bit and looked carefully through the LPs.

It was there and then that a copy of The Commercial Album leapt out at me - The album name boldly emblazoned in red over the green-tinted faces of John Travolta and Barbra Streisand, with images of The Residents superimposed over them, giving the cover stars an eerie bug-eyed look. I'd never actually seen a Residents disc for sale anywhere up to that point (although, truth be told, I hadn't exactly been looking for one up to then). But one look at that album brought back to me every aspect of that long-ago night in Monterey, watching "Videowest" and getting blown away. I quickly took my selection to the register and paid the shopkeeper, who wore a look on his face of mingled incredulity and admiration, no doubt surprised that a supposed straight-arrow Naval Academy attendee was with-it enough to know and appreciate who The Residents were.

I still have that vinyl version, and a few years ago I acquired a copy on CD, containing ten bonus songs. That is the version I'm providing you here. So, for your listening pleasure, I give you The Commercial Album, released in 1980 on Ralph Records. This is a disk to be enjoyed and appreciated not all at once, but in snippets. Not everything on this album works, but there are definitely things here that will have you coming back to them, time and time again. Enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think.

Please use the email link below to contact me, and I will reply with the download link(s) ASAP:

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Poll Results - "The following bands have NEVER been nominated for the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame - which is the worst travesty?"

[I should have posted this a couple of months back, at the end of the polling period. But I got unavoidably sidetracked, and in addition an exercise related to this poll took a little longer to complete than I figured it would. So please pardon my delay.]

Thanks for all of the participation regarding this question. Here are the results to the question of which current non-inductee deserves immediate enshrinement in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame:

  8 (19%) The Smiths
  5 (12%) Captain Beefheart
  4 (9%) Roxy Music
  3 (7%) Nick Drake
  3 (7%) T. Rex
  3 (7%) Stevie Ray Vaughan
  2 (4%) The B-52's
  2 (4%) Dick Dale
  2 (4%) Hall & Oates
  2 (4%) Todd Rundgren
  2 (4%) Sonic Youth
  1 (2%) Black Flag
  1 (2%) Devo
  1 (2%) ELO
  1 (2%) X
  1 (2%) Yes
  0 (0%) Chubby Checker
  0 (0%) The Flying Burrito Brothers
  0 (0%) Los Lobos
  0 (0%) The Go-Go's
  0 (0%) Willie Nelson
  0 (0%) Jethro Tull
  0 (0%) The Replacements

Frankly, almost every band and artist listed above has a legitimate claim for inclusion. But for such an intensely subjective topic, I knew that I would have trouble in attempting to come up with even a semi-objective way to measure a band's "worthiness" for the Rock Hall of Fame. I mean, I'm a big fan of The Smiths, The B-52's and X, and would love to see them in the RRHOF someday. But are they more deserving of more immediate induction then, say, Roxy Music or Captain Beefheart? And if so, how could I 'prove' it? For weeks, I wracked my brains for a method by which to compare these bands that could fend off, if now wholly withstand, partisan criticism and finger-pointing. But I had no such luck . . .

. . . until, by chance, I stumbled across a copy of a book called Perfect From Now On: How Indie Rock Saved My Life, by an author named John Sellers. The book, released in 2007, is both a witty memoir of and heartfelt homage to the author's longtime obsession with music, especially with alternative/indie bands, like Pavement and Guided By Voices, that the vast majority of people have never heard of. The book is a little chatty, filled with anecdotes of Sellers' personal encounters with his music heroes, like Robert Pollard and Scott "Spiral Stairs" Kannberg. But all in all, it is a very entertaining read for those of us who have the same affinity for this type of tuneage.

For me, the best part of the book came in the back, with a series of appendicies added by the author. And in one of them, I believed that I found the solution to my problem. In this section. Sellers conducts a mock debate with himself, over the relative 'coolness' of one particular band over another. To resolve this question, he actually comes up with an obsessively detailed equation, involving many factors and variables, that measures "exactly how much your favorite band rocks". These variables include the quality of an artist's entire oeuvre, their 'image', and an "X" factor, with the music quality factor accounting for the majority (2/3rds) of the overall score.

Now, admittedly, a lot of the variables that Sellers comes up with are silly and/or tongue-in-cheek ("If the band members have costumes, -10 points, unless that band is Kiss, in which case, +75"; "Every lyric equal to or better than 'Her love’s a pony'?"). But the section regarding music quality was pretty straightforward. So, for lack of a better alternative, I decided to use this formula in my analysis and determination of "Worst Rock Hall of Fame Travesty of Non-Inclusion".

Utilizing album critiques and band information found on the Web to fill out the equation, I came up with the following scores/rankings:

1. Los Lobos (9,849.20)
2. Roxy Music (8,601.07)
3. Rundgren, Todd (7,542.98)
4. Yes (7,215.74)
5. ELO (4,074.89)
6. Sonic Youth (3,461.98)
7. Dale, Dick (2,914.92)
8. B-52's, The (2,497.10)
9. Hall & Oates (2,242.42)
10. Smiths, The (1,859.05)
11. Captain Beefheart (1,744.35)
12. T. Rex (1,559.47)
13. Replacements, The (1,510.93)
14. X (1,277.58)
15. Vaughan, Stevie Ray (1,157.38)
17. Devo (907.83)
18. Flying Burrito Brothers, The (764.17)
19. Go-Go's, The (465.35)
20. Jethro Tull (388.83)
21. Drake, Nick (241.52)
22. Black Flag (203.23)
23. Checker, Chubby (57.44)

Details of each band's scores are included here.

A couple of notes regarding this analysis:

- The most important consideration driving this band quality formula, the factor that raised scores the most, is that the band/artist had to have put out a high percentage (of their overall output) of critically-acclaimed studio albums over an extended period of time. For example, Los Lobos has released a total of fourteen albums in their 36-year history; two-thirds of them are considered 'good' or better, with five ranked as 'brilliant'. On the other hand, all four of The Smiths' studio albums were acclaimed, with 3 considered 'brilliant' . . . but The Smiths were only together for four years total. In this equation, longevity counts.

- According to this evaluation, the highest-scoring artist of the 24 considered was Willie Nelson. But I removed him from consideration for the RRHOF, since almost all of Nelson's celebrated output has been in the country genre (and besides, Willie's already in the Country Music Hall of Fame; give someone else a chance for the Rock Hall).

Again, this is an attempt to use objective methods to answer a subjective question. I am not a huge fan of the top five scorers on this list; my tastes lean toward bands like the aforementioned Smiths, the Bee-Fives, Devo, etc. But taking a step back and looking at each band's career with a cold, unprejudiced eye, I can see how those other bands would and could be more deserving than my own personal favorites.

If you have the chance, download and take a look at the spreadsheet, and let me know your thoughts on all of this. I'm looking forward to some comment on what is, in many ways, a highly personal issue. Thanks, and sorry again for taking so long to get this done. I'll try to come up with another poll question sometime soon.

Various Artists - O Brother Where Art Thou? Soundtrack

Hold onto your hats, folks - this is gonna be a long one . . .

I've found that the best times in your life are usually not the ones you plan, but the ones that just sort of happen. The great thing I've discovered about being alive, of being able to walk around on this nutty planet, is that even during the most mundane, ordinary days, there's potential magic and amazing experiences tucked away around every corner. Most of the time, we fail to see these opportunities, or we don't move fast enough to take advantage of them. But when that special thing actually does happen, seemingly from out of the blue, it reminds you that the possibility of magic IS out there. I have had some unique and interesting experiences in my life, and this is one of the best of them - moreso because I didn't really go looking for it, but it just sort of found me just the same.

One Friday in June of 2001, while I was living in Providence, Rhode Island, I took the day off of work to run some errands. None of the things I needed/wanted to do that day were of any major consequence - I needed a couple of things from the Stop & Shop grocery; I had to pick up some bits and pieces of dry cleaning; I needed to buy myself some new pants - typical stuff. As I was walking out of my apartment that morning, I remembered that I had a roll of undeveloped film sitting around, taken during a recent trip to California. So I turned back to grab it, figuring that I could head over to nearby Providence Place Mall and drop it off to be developed while I visited the clothing stores there for my slacks.

The mall was fairly deserted when I got there - since, of course, most other people besides me were at work. I left my film at the camera store, then wandered around the center for a bit, enjoying the sensation of not being cooped up in the office during a weekday. As I roamed, I happened upon two women sitting behind a small folding table set up in an out-of-the-way corner of the mall. It looked sort of like one of those temporary setups that insurance or credit card companies put up in shopping centers and airports - you know, the "Sign Up Today And Get A Free T-Shirt!" sort of things. This particular table didn't quite have that particular sort of vibe coming from it, but I still began to steer clear of it - I didn't feel like being hassled that time of morning.

But with no one else in the immediate vicinity, the women started waving me over, with a little more urgency than I thought necessary. My "No" radar was still flashing red, so I can't tell you why I stopped and turned back to respond to them - I suppose continuing to move away would have been impolite on my part. But in hindsight, I'm glad I did, for as I approached, one of the women greeted me with "Hi! Would you like to try out for a TV game show?"

It was then that I noticed the banner draped across the front of the table - "WEAKEST LINK SIGNUP HERE".

For those of you who may not recall, The Weakest Link was an NBC game show which had been airing in prime time since April of that year. It was the American version of the hit British show of the same name, and it even had the host of the UK version, the acerbic Anne Robinson, as the host of the U.S. show. In many ways, the show was NBC's answer to ABC's wildly popular Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?, which had been running on that network for the past couple of years to great acclaim (and great profitability for the network).

In the first couple of months after its springtime debut, The Weakest Link experienced the same sort of huge popularity and success as its competitor. But with all of the hype and buzz surrounding it, I still had not bothered to watch the program. Game shows (especially prime time game shows) weren't really my bag, to be honest - I had seen Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? only a couple of times, and never all the way through. To me, all game shows just seemed so contrived and phony, with intellect not exactly being the determining factor in winning or losing. Every once in a while, I thought about trying out for Jeopardy!, since it seemed like you had to actually have (and use) some real smarts to succeed on that show. But overall, these contests weren't really the sort of thing that interested me.

I confessed my ignorance of the show to the two ladies. But they said that didn't matter; I should try out anyway, especially since I was the first one there and thus would be guaranteed a chance. Since I was going to hang around the mall anyway until my film was finished, I finally agreed. They had me sign my name to a register, and gave me a ticket with "#1" printed on it, and told me to come back in an hour or so.

I went up to the third floor food court to grab some lunch, and by the time I returned to the area where the Weakest Link table was, there were literally HUNDREDS of people gathered there, all vying for a chance to be a contestant. They only took a certain number, something like the first 300 or 400 - since I had ticket #1, I was good to go. At the appointed time, they trooped the vast lot of us through the mall, up two escalators and into a barren area that used to be a former store, now filled with folding cafeteria-style tables and benches where we all could sit.

Despite the vast size of the applicant pool, the Weakest Link folks were very efficient in their duties - it was very apparent that they had done this type of thing before, in cities all over the U.S. After greetings and preliminary remarks, they handed each of us pencils and a four-page "Biographical Questionnaire", on which we provided them with our names, addresses, education, occupation, hobbies and any other pertinent facts about ourselves. They gave us about 20 minutes to complete that. Then everyone's forms were gathered up and replaced with a single sheet of paper, with the numbers 1 through 20 listed along the left-hand side. This was the "testing" phase of the application - a staff member stood up in the middle of the room and shouted out twenty questions, one at a time, while we quickly scribbled our answers down on the sheets provided.

- "What is the capital of Wisconsin?"
- "What does DNA stand for?"
- "How many sides does a Rubik's Cube have?"; etc.

The game show recruiters then gathered up everyone's test sheets (we all put our names at the top beforehand), and took all of these papers back to another part of the room, closed off from the rest of it. In there, there appeared to be a couple of dozen additional staff members sitting, waiting to grade the exams and match them up with the bio sheets. Apparently, they were looking for both the smartest and quirkiest/most interesting personalities to be on the program. We (that is, myself and my fellow contestant applicants) sat in that room on those hard benches for what seemed like an eternity, until the group leader finally reappeared and announced the names of the applicants who would move on to the next round in the process. Out of more than 300 people, they selected about 20-25 of us for Phase II . . . and, lo and behold, I was one of the selectees.

After dismissing the others, they took my selected group back to yet another part of the store, which had been set up to vaguely resemble the actual game show set. There, we were told that we were going to assemble in groups of eight, and play a quick version of the game, all of which was to be filmed by several cameras set up around the room and "sent back to Hollywood" for the show's producer's to make the final determination as to who would and wouldn't be invited to be on the actual show. After a rapid run-through of the rules of play, we began the mock competition. While the cameras rolled, the stand-in for the show host lobbed questions and insults at us, and we all tried our best to answer/respond in kind (they claimed beforehand that it didn't matter if we answered a question incorrectly; they were just trying to see how we looked and responded on camera. Whether that was true or not, I know for a fact that I didn't miss a single question - a factor that played in my favor, as I learned later on).

After about 45 minutes of that sort of nonsense, that was that. The crew thanked us for our time, and said that they would be in touch with us soon. It was late afternoon when I finally left that store, so I went down to get my developed pictures before walking home (never did get those new pants that day, however . . .).

I didn't tell a lot of my friends about my experience that day, because despite assurances from the production staff that we would "hear from them", I honestly didn't expect to. I figured that that team had been doing the same type of recruiting all over the country, and as such there were scores of other applicants for them to choose from besides me. I was semi-hopeful to get a call from them, but I wasn't really banking on it.

However, to my surprise, an associate producer for the show contacted me in less than a week. The top-line producers, she said, were impressed with how I presented myself on camera, and they liked my background, etc. She also mentioned that, during the filmed portion of the process, I was the only one to correctly answer a question that had stumped every other applicant in the country (this is no bullshit). The question was, "Which Milwaukee band was discovered by the Pretenders in 1981?" At the time, I knew from the moment they said "Milwaukee band" that the answer was "Violent Femmes". No one else nationwide provided the correct answer - including the applicant group FROM Milwaukee (See - vast and obscure musical knowledge IS good for something!)!

The bottom line was they were very interested in getting me out to California immediately to participate in a real taping. She told me to stand by for further details, which would be coming in the next few days. I was jazzed to hear this news, but also a bit nervous, since I still had yet to actually WATCH the program. I thereby began a crash course in Weakest Link-ology, watching every episode I could and trying to discover its flow and nuances.

For those of you who don't recall, here's a rundown of how to play The Weakest Link (I edited this down from what I found on Wikipedia - sorry, but this is as brief a description as I could put together):

"Essentially, a team of players tries to reach and bank a set target within a time limit by compiling a chain of correct answers that would be broken with an incorrect answer or if a player decided to bank the money that was already in the chain. On NBC, the team was composed of eight people looking to win up to $1,000,000. One player would be eliminated after each round until two were remaining. Each round is reduced by 10 seconds thereafter (with the first round lasting for 2:30). Contestants who are eliminated in the rounds leading up to the final round are told by the host: 'You are the weakest link. Goodbye!'

The final vote occurs prior to the penultimate round, after which the two remaining players compete in one more round together for double stakes (with the round lasting for 1:30). The final round is a head-to-head five-question competition between the two finalists, with the contestant who answers the most questions designated the winner, or 'The Strongest Link'. The game show is winner-take-all, with the Strongest Link received the entire amount of funds banked during the show, up to a maximum of $1,000,000.

Prior to the start of the show, a random draw backstage is held among players to determine order, and the player who draws the first position starts the first round. Each round thereafter begins with the strongest link from the preceding round (or if that player had been voted off, the second strongest). For the head-to-head round, he or she also has the option of going first or passing play to the other finalist."

I received my first Weakest Link callback in mid-July, early on in my efforts to study the game. The producers wanted me to fly out to L.A. for a taping in early August. But at the last minute (and fortunately for me, in hindsight), the show I was supposed to be on was replaced with a 'celebrity' edition - they decided to tape an episode featuring the former cast of The Brady Bunch. I wasn't too disappointed - they assured me that I would be tapped for another taping "very soon", and I hadn't finished with my observations of the program yet. So it was all good.

I watched every episode of The Weakest Link that summer, and it didn't take long for me to discover one constant in all of the shows - the smartest person in each group of contestants rarely if ever won it all. That person would do well in the early rounds, then would be voted off late in the game as the others perceived him or her as a threat to their acquisition of all the money. That's when I began to realize that not all TV game shows were fake and moronic . . . and I started to understand and appreciate just how evilly well-constructed this particular game show really was. The winner-take-all aspect of The Weakest Link was both ingenious and insidious - ingenious in that it forces team cooperation in what is essentially a non-cooperative, cutthroat competition; insidious in that it seduces individual players to go all-out to win the money for themselves, thereby attracting undue attention to their efforts that ultimately cost them a chance at the prize. The show was more than just a trivia challenge - it was a very complex psychological struggle between eight people, with Anne Robinson's role being that of a gadfly, using insults and putdowns to ratchet up the already-present internal and external tensions within and between the contestants.

Once I figured out the show's structure, the WHY, I next had to come up with the HOW - how would I actually go about winning this game show? After a few more days of observation and thought, I came up with what I thought was a good plan:

In the first couple of rounds, I would go all out, answering as many questions as possible and trying to build up the overall bank as much as I could. Then beginning in the third round, when there are six players left, I would begin dumping questions; that is, purposely answering some questions incorrectly. Not all of them, mind you - just one or two per round, hopefully in spots where my breaking the answer chain wouldn't result in a large loss of money to the team. The goal was to be very subtle about it, and refrain from antagonizing my fellow contestants - not so that they would like me, but more so that they would forget about me when it came time to vote a member off at the end of each round, and focus on one of the louder, "smarter" contestants.

I didn't consider things like stage fright (I'd been the frontman for my band for a while by then, so being under lights in front of everyone didn't worry me a bit) or being unable to answer the questions (I'm sorry to say that I have a vast knowledge of useless trivia contained in my head) would impact the execution of my game plan. I figured that if I focused on the "timely dump" plan, I would at least make it to the final three contestants. At that point, I would trust to luck to get me into the finals.

At about the time I finished formulating my plan in late August, I began hearing from the Weakest Link producers again. They claimed they were done with "celebrity" editions for the time being, and were ready to start shooting some "regular people" shows. There were solid plans to tape a block of shows near the end of the following month, and the word I received was that I would be included in one of the early productions. I received several calls from them in the days that followed, and finally they locked down the time and date with me. I was told to expect a call from the Weakest Link travel coordinator that following Tuesday, to discuss flight schedules and hotel reservations.

I arrived in my office on the sunny, beautiful morning of the appointed day full of anticipation, looking forward to what was undoubtedly going to be a great day. At just before nine, I received a call on my office phone with a Los Angeles-area area code. I had a fleeting thought that it was odd to get a call from the West Coast so early (it being six a.m. there), but quickly chocked it up to studio efficiency as I picked up the phone. However, the call wasn't from NBC at all. It was from my sister in L.A., who was calling to tell me something about a news story she just heard, an unusual aircraft accident in New York City . . .

That was the morning of Tuesday, September 11th, 2001.

. . .

I think that it goes without saying that, in the immediate aftermath of that horrific day and week, I never received a call from the game show producers. I didn't bother to contact them either; somehow, my appearance on network TV just wasn't that important all of a sudden. Finally, after a week or so, I got a call from my contact there. The word I received was that, with the events of 9/11 still fresh on everyone's mind, NBC was going to curtail producing new episodes of The Weakest Link that involved 'regular' people, and concentrate on the exclusive production of 'celebrity' editions - the obvious but unspoken implication being that they were leery about flying people across the country, and would instead use the local talent pool. The network rep made the usual mouth noises regarding "In the future, if we decide to resume normal production, we'll keep you in mind, blah, blah, blah . . .", but I figured that I'd missed my opportunity, and my chances of ever appearing on the show were over and done with. It was disappointing, but what could you do? After a few weeks, I sort of put it all out of my mind, and by the early fall of 2001 I'd moved on with my life.

I still watched The Weakest Link from time to time. But the shows became less interesting after 9/11, as the network trotted out "special edition" after "special edition" episode, featuring washed-up actors and other pseudo-"celebs" playing for charity. As the quality of "celeb" contestants began sinking further and further (pro wrestlers, redheads, Anne Robinson lookalikes, etc.), the show's once-high ratings began sinking as well. In my opinion, the producers forgot the golden rule - people watch game shows to see people like themselves win life-altering prizes - NOT to see some Troy McClure clone playing for some obscure animal shelter in Tarzana.

Unlike NBC, my company had no intention of curtailing business flights, and as such, I spent the latter part of that year flying to places like Buffalo, San Francisco and Cleveland for work. In November, we began a project with a large bank in Canada, and in support of these efforts I began making regular visits to Toronto. In early January, I was standing in line in Customs at the Toronto airport when my phone rang. I was surprised to be greeted with the excited voice of my old Weakest Link contact, who I had not heard a peep from in almost four months. The network, she told me, had decided to resume regular production, and I was at the top of their contestant list. Would I be available at the end of the month? Hell yeah, I would be!

This time, there were no hitches - a little more than three weeks later, I was using a NBC-paid ticket to board a plane bound for Los Angeles.

They pulled out all the stops for me upon my arrival that Friday evening, with a limo waiting at LAX to whisk me over to the Sheraton Universal Hotel in Universal City, where all of the next day's contestants were staying. I was pretty psyched for the show taping the next morning . . . but there was another event that weekend that shared space in the forefront of my mind - Super Bowl XXXVI, between the St. Louis Rams and the New England Patriots, was being played that weekend. And while I had no special affinity to either team (I'm a longtime Saints fan, and frankly couldn't (and still can't) STAND the Pats), the fact that I was in close proximity to Las Vegas on perhaps the biggest sports betting day of the year was too great an opportunity to pass up. I had already made plans that, regardless of the outcome of my game show experience, my ass was going to be sitting at a poker table in Sin City, with sports book tickets in my hand, by no later than Sunday morning. The Rams were heavy favorites that year, and the thrilling possibility of making a twin killing in both LA and Vegas that weekend kept me awake far into the night.

I had to be up early the next morning - there was supposed to be a shuttle bus waiting for us at the front door of the hotel at 7:30. I was knackered due to my late night, but I made it on time, and clambered aboard the ride with about a dozen other folks. The contest instructions we had been given prior to our arrival stated that we were not supposed to engage with one another prior to arriving at the studio, so the ride to Burbank was made in stone silence - an eerie silence, albeit we were all sitting cheek-by-jowl with each other.

We soon arrived at NBC's Burbank Studio complex, a rather non-
descript row of gray warehouse-type buildings, where we were met by Weakest Link assistants and herded into a receiving area in Studio 1. It was here that I learned that my show auditions were not yet at an end. Like I said earlier, there were about a dozen of us on the bus - but the show only has spaces for eight contestants. So there was some final winnowing-out to be done. One by one over the next couple of hours, we were led into a room to face a panel of three or four show producers, who took turns asking us questions like "Why do you want to be on the show?" As opposed to my earlier audition in Providence, this one was a lot more serious - not a lot of smiles or nods coming from that grim group of execs. These were the gatekeepers, the guys in charge of making sure the show was entertaining and good, so the production company and network would make money. So they were keeping a keen eye open - not for weirdoes (because the show benefited from having interesting personalities on), but for boring, 'blah' people. So I went into my final interview with the whole 'happy face', "Hey, great to be here!" sort of attitude - and it worked. I made the final cut.

They moved the final eight of us into another room for a late brunch, and a chance now to finally speak to one another, as the restriction on contact was now lifted. My fellow contestants included a college student, a former beauty queen, a psychologist, a probation officer and a small town mayor. All in all, almost everyone was pretty cool. Since they were anticipating having us indoors for the taping for the next several hours, the show runners also gave us a little time to roam around outside in the parking lot for some fresh air. Studio 1 was the same studio where The Tonight Show was filmed, and we all admired Jay Leno's car parked outside in his own special spot - a spotless old-fashioned car (looked possibly like a Duesenburg to me) painted a shiny sea green with immaculate white-wall tires.

It was during this break that one of the contestants recommended a unique strategy. Apparently, she had also been watching the program, and was struck by how little of the potential $1 million grand prize was won (on average, the Strongest Link took home somewhere between $20,000 and $40,000). Her suggestion was that in the first round (when the questions were generally easier), NONE of us would 'bank' the money until we had correctly answered eight questions in a row, giving us a maximum payout for that round of $125,000. If it worked, it would instantly make our episode one of the most lucrative in Weakest Link history. Everyone immediately agreed to give it a try - myself included, since it played right into my strategy of "going all out" in the early rounds.

After that break, things began moving very quickly. We went back inside Studio 1, and were herded into wardrobe and makeup. We had to bring a couple of extra outfits, which were reviewed and critiqued by the producers. A couple of the female contestants were told (make that 'ordered') to change into one of their alternate ensembles, which pissed them off to no end.

After everyone was powdered, primped and kitted out to the satisfaction of the powers-that-be, we were led into the back of the studio, the place where they would actually be filming us on the show. We spent a few minutes in a dingy area behind and underneath the audience seating area. It was here that we finally met the host, Anne Robinson, for the first time. Our encounter with her was brief. She was dressed in her trademark style, completely in severe black with evil-looking steel-rimmed glasses. I don't remember her offering us any pre-show words of encouragement; she did say "This is the LAST time today you will see me smile!", apparently her stock phrase to contestants. I don't recall her actually smiling when she said that . . .

We were then moved to another part of the studio, where they had us all sort of mill around and pretend to chat with one another while they filmed us, for part of the opening sequence. From there, they led us across the floor, stepping over cables and around TV cameras, and onto the main stage, which looked like something out of Close Encounters.

I was placed in position 8, the last place to Anne Robinson's right as she faced the audience. As I walked to that spot, I quickly glanced ahead, to get a glimpse of the studio audience. But they were very difficult to see - it was like an audience full of undertakers or ghouls; they were all either dressed completely in black, or draped in black blankets. All in all, it was a very freaky effect. But before I could fully process my surroundings and get settled to everything else that was happening around us, I found to my mild shock that the filming had begun. I thought there might be a couple of practice shots or something . . . but no. One second, we were sort of milling around on stage - the next second, music was playing, lights were flashing, and I was staring into a TV camera saying my name. And off we went. I quickly put everything else out of my mind, and tried to concentrate on my "questions dumping" plan developed months earlier.

But first, we had to get through the initial round and see if we could max out our winnings, according to the plan we agreed to earlier that day. The play clock showed 2:30, and Ms. Robinson spun towards the player in position 1 to start.

Q. "For $1,000, what legendary Scottish sea creature is nicknamed 'Nessie'?"
A. "The Loch Ness Monster"

"Correct!"

And on it went around to each of the first seven players, each one of them answering without banking, with the money meter highlighting our current level rising incrementally - $5,000 . . . $10,000 . . . $50,000 . . . $75,000. I could almost FEEL the audience holding its collective breath, as the money and tension level rose higher and higher. It finally came to my turn, as the eighth player - my correct answer would be worth $125,000 and would end the round, a feat never before accomplished on the U.S. version of the show. Even with so much at stake, surprisingly, I didn't feel the least bit nervous.

Q. "What 'A' is the superhighway in Germany with no speed limit?"

I instantly responded - "Autobahn". And with that, the crowd went wild, as did all of us there on stage! A $125,000 round! Holy smokes!

After all of that excitement, it was time to vote one of the contestants off the show. The first one to get the ax was the young college student, who was frankly sort of an arrogant douche to everyone that morning, an attitude that did him no favors once the taping began. During the first round of voting, I was happy to see that no one voted to put me off the show. So far, I was flying under the radar, just as I had hoped. Things were going well.

And so the show went. Round after round progressed, with the overall bank building and contestant after contestant being voted off (After being relieved, the dismissed contestant was taken to another part of the studio to film a brief valedictory segment, then immediately taken back to the hotel in a waiting limo). Beginning with the third round, I started intentionally dumping a question or two per round, at times when it wouldn't hurt the team (i.e., cost us money) - and to my delight, my plan was working like a charm. Players kept leaving, but I survived, time and time again. There were little breaks in production every couple of rounds, so the cameras could be reset and things moved around, stuff like that. I remember standing there during one of those breaks in the middle of the taping, quietly laughing to myself in incredulity - I couldn't BELIEVE that things were going the way I hoped they would!

Finally, it came to a point where only three of us remained - the small-town mayor, a woman from Texas and me. The woman from Texas had been gunning for me for the past couple of rounds, voting for me to be removed, so I knew she was a threat I had to neutralize (in addition, she was clearly the smartest remaining player - besides me, of course!). The mayor was visibly nervous as the show wore on, but was holding his own. I knew that at this point, my 'question dump' plan had to fall by the wayside, and I needed a little bit of luck to make it to the championship rounds. At the end of that round, we all had to vote for who to remove - and the audience gasped as our votes were revealed - the three of us all voted for a different contestant!

In situations like that, the contestant who had the highest number of correct answers during that round won the tiebreaker, with the opportunity to choose the member to be removed - and by the barest of margins, the strongest player for that round . . . was me. I quickly voted the Texas woman off. With a little strategy, and a heaping dollop of luck, I had made it to the penultimate round and the finals.

"The final vote occurs prior to the penultimate round, after which the two remaining players compete in one more round together for double stakes (with the round lasting for 1:30). The final round is a head-to-head five-question competition between the two finalists, with the contestant who answers the most questions designated the winner, or 'The Strongest Link'."

The penultimate round was a chance for us two remaining players to really stack some cash onto our already sizable winnings. But as I mentioned earlier, the small-town mayor was clearly rattled, especially so at nearly being eliminated the round before. So the guy kept missing question after question, limiting our take for that session. I, on the other hand, tried to remain calm and focused, particularly with the best-of-five championship round coming up.

As the strongest player from the previous round, I had the option of choosing who would go first in the final round. I told Ms. Robinson that I chose to go last, and as I did so I glanced at my opponent and watched the blood drain from his face. Wow, I thought; this guy is seriously in bad shape. And it showed - he missed his first question, a relatively easy one, as far as I was concerned. I answered mine correctly, so the score was now 1-0 in my favor. From that point, we both went on a tear, each of us giving correct responses to our next three questions. With only one question apiece left, the score stood at 4-3 for me. Still, I felt surprisingly calm.

Anne Robinson asked my opponent his fifth question - if he missed it, I would win automatically. But he nailed it, tying the score at 4 to 4. Fine - no problem. My last question was coming up - if I answered it correctly, I would be the Strongest Link, and the victory would be mine. Even with all that, I remained cool as a cucumber.

Then Ms. Robinson said " . . . if you answer this question correctly, you have won. So, for . . . ", and she said the amount of the grand prize.

THAT'S the moment when I got nervous.

Really nervous. Really, REALLY nervous. I could feel the tension and panic building inside my stomach - up to that point, I really hadn't thought about the money, per se; I was just concentrating on trying to win the game. But when she stated what exactly was at stake for me, well . . . My heart started pounding like a jackhammer, so hard that I could feel it shake my body, so loud that I was sure the folks in the audience could hear it. A low buzz started building in my ears, increasing slowly in volume - I later determined that what I was hearing was the sound of blood rushing through my head. And I got a mild case of tunnel vision - I couldn't see anything to my extreme left or right - just Anne Robinson's face right in front of me, as the Moment of Truth arrived, and she asked what hopefully would be the Final Question:

"The soundtrack of what George Clooney film - "

The answer that instantly came to my mind with those words was Out Of Sight, a recently released George Clooney/Jennifer Lopez vehicle. I instinctively knew that it was the WRONG answer . . . but that was the one that lodged in my head. And, truth be told, I almost blurted it our spasmodically. But I forced myself to calm down, and listen to the rest of the question:

" . . . won the 2001 Country Music Award for Album Of The Year?"

The answer was then obvious (at least to me), and I took several moments to compose myself. I looked away and took several deep breaths while I locked the words into my head. I then looked up, straight into Ms. Robinson's eyes, and slowly enunciated every word in my response:

"O . . . Brother . . . Where . . . Art . . . Thou?"

There was a soundless pause in the studio, then Ms. Robinson intoned these words: "That . . . is the correct answer." I was the winner!

AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! The word "relief" does not do justice to what I felt at that moment! I wanted to laugh and cry and faint and jump and hug everyone and slap five with Jesus, all at the same time! I barely heard the rest of what Ms. Robinson said, about me being the Strongest Link, and the money I had won! It was truly a mind-jolting, ecstatic experience!

They wrapped the taping on the main set shortly afterwards, and audience members came rushing up to congratulate me. I then had to go up to the little room to film my own final segment, like everyone who had gone before me. After that, it was back to the production offices to sign a shitload of paperwork, before climbing into the waiting limo that took me back to the Sheraton (now, THAT was an uncomfortable, awkward journey - as my fellow passenger on that trip was the small-town mayor, the guy I just defeated on the show. He was miserable about losing his chance at all of those winnings - understandably so. But still, for that short time, he was killing my buzz).

When we arrived back at the hotel, we found all of the other previously dismissed contestants waiting for us in the lobby. They had all gathered there that afternoon, one by one, as their limos returned them there. The word had already been passed to them that I was the winner, so when I walked through the hotel door, I was greeted with applause and a loud cheer. That was intensely gratifying - I didn't want those folks to hate me; my desire to win the show wasn't a personal issue - it was just business. I herded everyone into the nearby hotel bar, where we all partied together for the next several hours - all on my tab, of course!

But early on during our blowout, I excused myself to head up to my room for a couple of minutes, to drop off my extra show outfit and to have a moment to myself to contemplate the enormity of what had just occurred. That was the point when it all began to sink in . . . and as I looked out of my window over the smoggy San Fernando Valley, I could see the reflection of my big smile in the glass as I thought to myself how great it was to live in times like these, to revel in the unexpected, and to see a plan succeed beyond my wildest dreams. I allowed myself those precious few seconds of private, unbridled joy and satisfaction . . . then I changed my shoes and went back down to the party I was hosting.

So with all of this, I present to you the O Brother Where Art Thou? soundtrack album to the movie of the same name, released on Mercury Records in December 2000 - the album whose name was worth six figures to me, ten years ago on this very day, one of the better days in my life. As I have stated earlier, I have no special affinity for country music. And truth be told, I have never actually seen this movie (although I should - I understand that it's excellent). But I felt that I HAD to purchase this album, if only for what it brought to me on that fine L.A. afternoon. I hope that it provides you with just as much joy and delight. Enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think.

(And thanks for reading this thing all the way through - I apologize again for the length. Pretty good story though, eh?)

Please use the email link below to contact me, and I will reply with the download link(s) ASAP:

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The Beatles - Revolver (Purple Chick), Vol. I & II

I know that the consensus "Greatest Album of All Time" is Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band, but my all-time favorite Beatles album is Revolver. Revolver is where I think the Beatles peaked, in terms of overall songcraft, inventiveness and variety. Indian music, Motown, children's music, rock, pop, chamber music - all enhanced by the most groundbreaking studio techniques seen on an album up to that point (did I mention that this record came out in 1966?) - they did it ALL on Revolver, and everything holds together, as both stand-alone tunes and as a coherent album. I know that it's near-blasphemy to say this, but I feel that Revolver is FAR superior to Sgt. Pepper - and The White Album, for that matter.

I never get tired of hearing the songs on this disc. In fact, one of my favorite memories from my days in Texas is a trip I took with my girlfriend to Austin one weekend. We ended up in a small bar along the main drag there, where a four-piece band of what looked to be high school kids were set up and playing their songs. Suddenly, these youngsters kicked in with an absolutely amazing live version of "Tomorrow Never Knows" - I mean, words cannot describe how good they were, and how stunning their version was. I often wonder what happened to that group, and if they got any farther than that little club in Austin, because they were THAT good.

One weekend afternoon in the spring of 2008, I was browsing the magazine racks at Borders Books in Newark, Delaware, checking out the latest issues of Q and Uncut in the section housing the music rags. I can't recall what made me pick up the latest issue of Rolling Stone - maybe it was the cover photo, or a feature article that caught my eye. It HAD to be something out of the ordinary, because any other time I wouldn't have touched that magazine with a ten-foot pole. In my mind, Rolling Stone is the magazine of the music establishment; it's the one you go to if you want reviews on the most recent Springsteen or Third Eye Blind album, or commentary on the latest Dylan reissue. But as for any writing related to what is happening on the cutting edge of music, Rolling Stone is just about the last place on Earth to look for that. I respect their coverage of classic rock (as my own ongoing "Rolling Stone 500" postings here on this blog humbly acknowledge), and their political reporting over the past 40 years has been consistently superb. But in my opinion, Rolling Stone hasn't been interesting since they last published an article by or about the late, legendary Hunter S. Thompson, the magazine's former "National Affairs Desk" correspondent - the guy who more than anyone else put them on the map, journalistically speaking.

But I digress . . .

ANYWAY, as I was saying - for some reason, I picked up Rolling Stone and started flipping through it. Near the front of the magazine, I came across a small article celebrating the release of what were reported to be high-quality Beatles bootlegs, by something/someone called Purple Chick:

The Beatles' albums came out on CD in 1987, but fans have long complained that the early digital technology used to remaster the recordings left them sounding hollow and thin — and that the official remasters are way overdue. That's where Purple Chick comes in — a secretive fan (or group of fans) who has been quietly remastering classic discs like Revolver and A Hard Day's Night, and releasing the digital files for free online. How is this possible? The Beatles' CDs sound so bad that carefully digitized tracks from pristine vinyl copies are noticeably better — with crisper highs, a fuller soundstage, and more realistic reproduction of instruments and voices. And the Purple Chick editions are superior to the originals in other ways, too: The Sgt. Pepper collection contains the original record in mono and stereo, and four discs worth of studio outtakes; the White Album comes in a whopping twelve-disc version, including alternate takes, studio chatter, demos and fascinating jams.

Although the write-up was short, it included the website address where these bootlegs could be downloaded.

"Holy shit!", I thought as I immediately dropped the magazine back on the rack and literally ran out of the store, fumbling for my car keys as I inwardly cursed the stupid bunch of bastards the Rolling Stone staff apparently were for diming Purple Chick out so blatantly. By publishing in a national magazine the exact Internet location of where to download unauthorized records, I knew that the site was at risk of being immediately shut down by the authorities. For all I knew as I hightailed it home from the bookstore, the site had already been taken offline. All the way back to nearby Elkton, Maryland, I lambasted Rolling Stone in my thoughts for their idiocy, and as I hurried through the door towards my computer, I prayed that Purple Chick was still up and running.

To my relief and good fortune, it was. I sat down, settled in, and began downloading everything I could from their site.

The guy or guys at Purple Chick (no one really knows who or how many people were behind it) have over the years done many remasterings of classic albums. They've done some work on the Beach Boys' back catalogue, some with Tracy Chapman and a lot of Indigo Girls. But their main concentration and specialty was in Beatles remasters. Over the years, they put out amazing multi-disc sets of all of the Beatles major albums. In addition, they gathered rare and obscure Fab Four material (like the original Decca audition tapes, the complete BBC Radio shows, and their annual Christmas fan club records), cleaned those up, and released pristine versions. The work that they did on the Beatles music, unheralded and unrewarded, puts to complete shame the botched job EMI did with their widely publicized recent "remasterings" of the Beatles catalog.

Alas, with all of the great work Purple Chick did with this music, they were forced to go further underground. Sure enough, just as I figured would happen, the authorities came in and clamped down on the site within a week of the RS article appearing. Fortunately, by the time they were shut down, I had gathered up pretty much everything I wanted from them, including their Revolver remaster (I was sorely tempted to get their twelve-disc(!) reworking of The White Album - auditions and studio takes included - but I just didn't have the time or wherewithal (not to worry, though - I got it later!)). On everything I collected, the sound quality was just as superb as had been claimed.

For your information, here's the song lineup for the Purple Chick 3-disc Revolver set:

VOLUME I (Disc 1 is in stereo; disc 2 is in mono):

Disc 1:
1: Paperback Writer
2: Rain
3: Taxman
4: Eleanor Rigby
5: I’m Only Sleeping
6: Love You To
7: Here, There and Everywhere
8: Yellow Submarine
9: She Said, She Said
10: Good Day Sunshine
11: And Your Bird Can Sing
12: For No One
13: Dr. Robert
14: I Want To Tell You
15: Got To Get You Into My Life
16: Tomorrow Never Knows (mono = mono matrix ii)

alternate stereo mixes
17: I'm Only Sleeping (US mix)
18: And Your Bird Can Sing (US mix)
19: Dr. Robert (US mix)
20: Paperback Writer (Anthology video)
21: Rain (Anthology video)
22: Eleanor Rigby (Y.S. Songtrack)
23: Love You To (Y.S. Songtrack)
24: Yellow Submarine (Y.S. Songtrack)
25: For No One (Anthology DVD)
26: Paperback Writer (Anthology DVD)
27: Rain (Anthology DVD)

Disc 2
alternate mono mixes
1: Paperback Writer
2: Rain
3: Taxman
4: Eleanor Rigby
5: I’m Only Sleeping
6: Love You To
7: Here, There and Everywhere
8: Yellow Submarine
9: She Said, She Said
10: Good Day Sunshine
11: And Your Bird Can Sing
12: For No One
13: Dr. Robert
14: I Want To Tell You
15: Got To Get You Into My Life
16: Tomorrow Never Knows (mono = mono matrix ii)
17: I’m Only Sleeping (US mix)
18: Dr. Robert (US mix)
19: Tomorrow Never Knows (Mono Matrix I)
20: Yellow Submarine (unreleased)
21: Yellow Submarine (film mix)

VOLUME II (one disc)

1: Mark I (Tomorrow Never Knows) - take 1 (Anthology 2)
2: Got To Get You Into My Life - take 5 (Anthology 2 + Anthology DVD + Anthology video)
3: Paperback Writer - take 1 (Studio Sessions)
4: Paperback Writer - take 2 (Studio Sessions + URT1)
5: And Your Bird Can Sing - take 2
(stereo remix from Anthology DVD surround channels, with loop removed)
6: And Your Bird Can Sing - take 2 + overdubs
(stereo remix from Anthology DVD surround channels, with loop removed)
7: Taxman - take 11 (Anthology 2)
8: Eleanor Rigby - take 14 (Anthology 2)
9: I'm Only Sleeping - rehearsal (Anthology 2)
10: I'm Only Sleeping - remake take 1 (Anthology 2)
11: For No One - rehearsal (CRMM)
12: For No One - take 1 (CRMM)
13: For No One - take 2 (CRMM)
14: For No One - a (CCRMM)
15: For No One - b (CCRMM)
16: For No One - c (CCRMM)
17: For No One - take 10 (composite from CRMM)
18: For No One - take 14 (composite from CRMM)
19: Yellow Submarine - take 5 (Real Love single)
20: Here, There and Everywhere - take 7(+14) (Real Love single)
21: Here, There and Everywhere - take 14 (composite from CRMM)

alternate mixes:
22: Got To Get You Into My Life - take 5 (Anthology 2)
23: And Your Bird Can Sing - take 2 (Anthology 2 OOPSed)
24: And Your Bird Can Sing - take 2+overdubs (Anthology 2)

monitor mixes:
25: Mark I (Tomorrow Never Knows) - take 1 (Anthology DVD)
26: Tomorrow Never Knows - take 3 (Anthology DVD)
27: For No One - take 10a (CCRMM + CRMM)
28: For No One - take 10b (CRMM)
29: For No One - take 10c (CRMM + CCRMM + CRMM)
30: For No One - take 14 (CRMM + CCRMM)
31: Here, There and Everywhere - take 14a (CCRMM + CRMM)
32: Here, There and Everywhere - take 14b (CRMM)
33: Here, There and Everywhere - take 14c (CRMM)
34: Here, There and Everywhere - take 14d (CRMM)
35: Rain - take 7

The Purple Chick remasters are exceedingly hard to find on the Internet now. It's not like they've totally disappeared - this IS the 21st Century, the Information Age, and once something hits the Web, it's all but impossible to make it go away again. But to save you from the time and drudgery of searching, I offer you here my copy of the Purple Chick Revolver remaster, released in 2004 (the files are in .m4a - sorry). Enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think.

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Various Artists - Christmas With The Rat Pack

Sorry I've been so quiet recently, gang. For some reason or another, I just seem to have lost my writing mojo for the time being . . . I can't explain it any other way. There are several music features and stories that are in various stages of completion, but due to a combination of several unrelated (or possibly interrelated) factors (including lack of time, general malaise, and other things I need not go into here), I just can't seem to bring them to a finish. When I do, I'll probably be backfilling a lot of the weeks since my last post in mid-November. So check the monthly indexes to the right from time to time, to see if there's anything there that hasn't been there before.

So again, sorry. I get this way from time to time - the words don't flow the way I'd like, and so I just shut down for a bit. But not to worry - I'll be back at it again soon, with more tunes for you to enjoy, coupled with my rambling, interminable stories that you all have learned to tolerate(!). See you all in 2012. Until then, when I get my act together . . .

Here's a holiday offering for you all - Christmas With The Rat Pack, featuring Yuletide favorites from Dino, Sammy and Frank (apparently, Joey Bishop can't sing, and Peter Lawford was too drunk to participate). I got this for Christmas in 2002, and initially didn't think much of it, since I didn't have a great affinity for the whole "Ring-A-Ding-Ding" era and its trappings. But I must say that over the years, this album has grown on me, and I play it quite a bit over the holidays. Here's the song lineup:

1. Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow - Dean Martin
2. Mistletoe And Holly - Frank Sinatra
3. Christmas Time All Over The World - Sammy Davis, Jr.
4. The First Noel - Frank Sinatra
5. Baby, It's Cold Outside - Dean Martin
6. I Believe - Frank Sinatra
7. Silver Bells - Dean Martin
8. The Christmas Song - Sammy Davis, Jr.
9. Hark! The Herald Angels Sing - Frank Sinatra
10. Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer - Dean Martin
11. The Christmas Waltz - Frank Sinatra
12. I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm - Dean Martin)
13. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas - Frank Sinatra)
14. Peace On Earth/Silent Night - Dean Martin
15. Jingle Bells - Sammy Davis, Jr.
16. White Christmas (Reprise) - Dean Martin
17. It Came Upon A Midnight Clear - Frank Sinatra
18. Winter Wonderland - Dean Martin
19. I'll Be Home for Christmas - Frank Sinatra
20. Marshmallow World - Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin
21. Auld Lang Syne - Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin

Say what you want about The Rat Pack and their hokey '60s Vegas trappings - these guys could SING. Hope this CD grows on you all as well. Enjoy, and thanks again. See ya next year!

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Sinead O'Connor - I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got (RS500 - #406)

I've been checking back over the posts - it's been months since I did a Rolling Stone 500 album. That's inexcusable on my part! So here goes . . .

I first became aware of Sinead O'Connor in the late fall of 1987, when a good friend of mine (that girl I referred to here) clued me in to this great new Irish artist and her debut album, The Lion And The Cobra. I quickly ran out to the local music store in Athens, GA, where I was living at the time, and picked up a cassette copy. The cover art featured a pale, demure-looking girl dressed in blue, strikingly beautiful even with her shaved bald head. As soft and gentle as she looked on the cover, the music inside The Lion And The Cobra was anything but - every song (even the more 'gentle' ballads) was filled with tension and power; you could tell Ms. O'Connor threw herself into every note. The juxtaposition between the image and the music couldn't have been more stark. Still, this album quickly became a favorite of mine, and I brought it along with me everywhere.

I left Georgia a couple of months later, moving up to Norfolk, VA, and in the summer of 1988 found myself briefly in London, England, my first visit to that country. I was excited about checking out all of the music shops and venues there, and at one point found myself at the old Virgin Records at Piccadilly Circus, going through the stacks (this was the place I saw the 'CD factory' in the basement level, mentioned here). There, I came across the original British release of The Lion And The Cobra, and was somewhat shocked to find that the cover art was totally different from the American release. The UK album showed a much more threatening, aggressive O'Connor - frankly, she looked a little like the Devil . . . which, in my mind, makes the album that much cooler.

I did a little research, and learned that Chrysalis Records, the US distributor, was worried that O'Connor's 'look' would scare Americans away from buying the record. So the label, seeking to protect 'sensitive' Yankee minds from harmful, disturbing images, purposely replaced the original album art with a softer, less threatening pose . . . thus continuing the long and ignominious tradition of bowldering and homogenizing British releases for American consumption (with examples including Capitol Records issuing reordered (or in some cases, totally different) early Beatles albums; the censorship of the covers of Blind Faith's debut album and Roxy Music's Country Life; changing the name of Nick Lowe's first album from Jesus Of Cool to Pure Pop For Now People . . . the list goes on and on).

Anyway . . .

A year and a half later, I was back in the States, back in Virginia, and started seeing a girl I met at an Awareness Art Ensemble reggae show at the old King's Head club near Old Dominion University. My brother, an ODU student at the time, invited me to check the band out, and she caught my attention when I sensed her eyeballing me from across the bar. She was cute, small with short bobbed hair, and we seemd to have a lot in common, despite her (for me) 'unconventionality' (for example, she usually dressed all in black - not completely goth, per se, but not in a style that I was used to with my other girlfriends).

We went out quite a bit during the spring of 1990, hitting the bars in the Virginia Beach area, or grabbing a bite to eat at the Jewish Mother deli or Waffle House, or hanging out in her room until the wee hours (she still lived with her folks, so I had to be SUPER quiet . . .). With all the time we spent together, I gained a clearer indication of some of the issues and hangups that were obviously tormenting this girl - and there were many (which I need not go into here). Actually, I kind of sensed that something wasn't quite right with her from the first conversation we had; it wasn't anything specific, just little stuff - the way she moved her head, a telltale lilt in her voice. I should've cut and run early on, but the girl was intriguing, and fun to be around. And despite what was swirling around her her noggin, she seemed to enjoy my company just as much as I enjoyed hers. Shoot, I LIKED this girl, quite a bit. So I hung in there, hoping against hope she would - I don't know, "snap out of it" or something (yeah, yeah, I know - but I'm a guy, and that's how we think. So sue me).

The same month I started hanging out with her, MTV started airing the video of "Nothing Compares 2 U", the first single off of Sinead O'Connor's upcoming album, I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got. The setup for the film was simple enough - a closeup of the singer, tightly focusing on her face while she sang the tune, intercut by moody, brooding shots of O'Connor wandering morosely around Paris. It's been over twenty years since this video debuted, but to this day it still retains much of its original impact and power. Sinead sings her heart out; you almost feel like a voyeur, watching this girl sing through what apparently was genuine anguish and pain (the tears falling from her eyes near the end just completely hammered that sense of loss home). And yet, you couldn't help but continue watching - she was just incredibly beautiful in the film; you couldn't take your eyes off of her:

My girlfriend and I were both big fans of this song and video, and watched a lot of MTV together, hoping to see it as much as possible. Of course, as new couples are wont to do, we strived to relate this song to our own relationship - I recall us many times staring dewy-eyed at one another while "Nothing Compares 2 U" played in the background (and yes, that is exactly as sappy as it sounds . . .). In addition to the music and atmosphere of the video, another thing that jumped out at me was the long coat that O'Connor wore during the "walking through Paris" portions. I thought to myself, "I gotta get me a coat like that!" After weeks of searching, I finally found the perfect one at a nearby Burlington Coat Factory - as black as midnight, and reaching practically down to my ankles. I wore that coat constantly, even with the weather beginning to warm up in the Norfolk area - apparently, I thought I looked cool in it.

O'Connor's LP was released in March (of course I snapped it up on cassette immediately). By the end of April/first part of May, both the album and the lead single were topping not only the American charts, but music charts worldwide. At around the same time, my ship was preparing for another six-month deployment, this time to South America. I was bumming about being away from this chick for so long, especially as she had also made plans to leave the country during that time, heading over to Europe and the Middle East for several months. I spent as much time with her as possible in my last few days in Virginia, then left one morning in early June for parts south, a very unhappy hombre.

The first month of our cruise was spent in the Caribbean, in places like Puerto Rico and Aruba. It should have been a lot more fun for me than it was. But I spent much of my time in the tropical paradises brooding over the girl I left behind. "Nothing Compares 2 U" was a big hit as well in all of the countries we visited, so it played constantly everywhere, always reminding me of her. I can recall riding in a shuttle bus in Aruba with a bunch of other shipmates, headed to Oranjestad to check out the signts and nightlife there, when suddenly this song came over the bus radio. It depressed me so much that I almost returned to the ship.

But as the cruise progressed, I began to enjoy myself more and more, and revel in all that the Caribbean and South America had to offer in terms of nightlife and danger. I attended a swank outdoor party at a naval base in Cartagena, a function quietly guarded by scores of rifle-toting Columbian Marines patrolling in the shadows. In Peru, in the midst of a martial law crackdown by the new Fujimori government, I went to a reception at the U.S. Embassy in Lima on a bus with blacked-out windows and armed guards stationed fore and aft, and during the party spoke at length with an affable embassy official who I realized much later was probably a CIA operative. I played roulette in a beautiful old casino in Valparaiso: got to wear my cool new long black coat out in Punta Arenas at the bottom of the continent: danced the lambada (badly) in Recife: and partied hard in Rio, one of the few cities in my experience which totally lived up to its advance billing.

As for my girl back in Virginia, I heard less and less from her as the weeks progressed and she was off on her own overseas trip. As my ship moved counterclockwise around the continent, the intensity of the feelings I had for her, nearly overwhelming at the beginning of the journey, began to subside. In mathematics, a standard equation is "rate equals distance over time". I discovered, as the months passed, that that numerical relationship also generally holds true for personal relationships - the rate at which I thought less and less about her increased with the length of our cruise and the time spent away from Norfolk.

By the time of our return to the U.S. in early December, I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got had faded from the charts. My girl, back in the States ahead of me, was there to greet me as we pulled into port. But the thing we had had faded as well. We had a half-hearted reunion, then called it quits a couple of weeks later. I guess I knew early on that our thing wasn't built for the long haul - just like Sinead O'Connor's career. This LP and her hit song was her U.S. peak. A series of bad career moves, including two poorly received albums (1992's Am I Not Your Girl? (a set of jazz standard covers) and 1994's Universal Mother) combined with a disasterous appearance on NBC's "Saturday Night Live" in late 1992, seriously derailed her career. She wouldn't make another album until 2000's Faith And Courage. Despite her still-considerable talents, none of her efforts over the past 20 years have came close to the heights she reached in 1990. Too bad - for a short while in the music world, nothing compared to her.

Anyway, here's the album, released by Ensign Records in 1990 and distributed in the U.S. by Chrysalis Records. Enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think:

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And here's a special bonus: Sinead O'Connor's stunning cover of "Sacrifice", from a 1991 tribute album devoted to the songs of Elton John and Bernie Taupin. After I heard this the first time, I felt that no one should ever be allowed to cover this song again. See if you agree:

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(And, by the way - I still have that coat.)

A little help requested from my blog viewers

Mediafire has been doing something funky with my files - unbeknownst to me, it appears that some of the music files that link to my posts here have mysteriously disappeared for no apparent reason. I was doing a review tonight, and found that both the Kiss Alive! and The Stone Roses albums are no longer in my Mediafire files, and are showing as "deleted or unavailable" when you click on the link here.

All of the files for all of the posts I've made here since the start of Pee-Pee Soaked Heckhole should be fully available, except for the ones that the DCMA forced me to delete, due to copyright rules. So, in the future, if you happen to click on something and a message pops up showing that it is not available, let me know ASAP, and I'll reup the file.

I just shitcanned one carrier (Rapidshare); I'm really not in the mood to get dicked around by another one. I'm hoping that the problems I'm having with Mediafire are isolated. As such, I will say no more about them until circumstances force me otherwise.

Thanks for your help. And please keep coming back.