your daily dose of rock and roll

Born in Chicago, where else?

For you old timers or archive-inclined whippersnappers who have grooved to the '68 album Super Session, the only reason Stephen Stills shows up as guitarist on side two is because Michael Bernard Bloomfield could not be roused from the heroin funk he had slid into after laying down the tracks for side one (or maybe his claim of chronic insomnia woes, no doubt complicated by heroin use, were true). By the '70s, Bloomfield was playing local gigs in Bay Area clubs and reportedly working on soundtracks for porn movies. That's a far cry from adding much of the blues guitar magic to Dylan's Highway 61 Revisited in '65 and the work he did with the groups The Paul Butterfield Blues Band and Electric Flag, just to give two examples. He was found dead of a drug overdose in his car 29 years ago today. Here he is with Electric Flag.

"I can't stand what you do ..."

Two hundred and fifty-eight years ago today the very first hospital in the United States opened. Pennsylvania Hospital is located in Center City, Philadelphia and was founded all those years ago by physician and surgeon Thomas Bond and all around brilliant guy Benjamin Franklin. Two hundred and nineteen years later, Jonathan Richman would consider hospitals in this song with the original lineup of the Modern Lovers: Ernie Brooks on bass, Jerry Harrison (later in the Talking Heads) on keyboards and drummer David Robinson (later of The Cars). Who knows why the person who posted this to YouTube opted to put the audio under clips from Roeg's The Man Who Fell to Earth, but spend a quarter of an hour surfing around YouTube for songs and you'll know it could be much worse.

Blur releases Blur!

Thirteen years ago today, the Britpop band who always changed up styles through the arc of their discography released their fifth eponymously titled LP. Never attracting as much attention in the States as in the UK, much of that ungainly and oversimplified abstraction known as the American general public are at least familiar with the catchy Song 2 track from this LP. Either from radio airplay, a commercial for Intel's Pentium II processor, Nissan's Sentra,  Michelob's Ultra or maybe from Drew Barrymore's big fight scenes in Charlie's Angels. Rock critics have noted that songwriter and Blur vocalist Damon Albarn was probably consciously trying to parody grunge in general and Nirvana specifically with this song. Irony within an irony, it was no doubt the deliberate elements of the parody—a simple yet persistent beat, the Nirvana-esque (or, really, is it more Pixie-esque?) alternation between rickety quiet and then spine-crunchingly loud chords and the irresistible "whoo hoo!"—that fueled the song's success in America.

Click on the hypertext song title above to see Blur's original video for the song. Embedding was disabled on that YouTube clip.

"Man, that music's gone gone."

It was 29 years ago today that Bill Haley finally succumbed to an inoperable brain tumor he had been diagnosed with in 1980 and passed away in his Harlingen, TX home. Known as one of the pioneers of rock and roll due charting with circa '55 hits like Rock around the Clock (which sold little upon initial release but took off after teen America was exposed to it during the opening credits of the movie Blackboard Jungle), as well as his cover of  Kansas City blues shouter Big Joe Turner's Shake, Rattle and Roll and See You Later Alligator. Unlike all these songs, Haley's first big charting single was one he wrote himself (with help from the comet who played bass for him). This tune went to #15 on the Billboard charts in '53.

By '58 Haley became practically a rock and roll footnote in the wake of the Elvis fever the swept up teen America. He remained popular as a revival act in Europe and Mexico into the '60s but battled with alcoholism and, presumably, all of the angst that comes from rapidly going from hit-maker to has-been. Former Blaster and all around cool dude Dave Alvin effectively uses his poetic license to tell that tale in this song from his Blue Blvd. LP.

Take that, ye doubters and detractors of BÖC!

Thirty seven years ago this month, Blue Öyster Cult released their second LP: Tyranny and Mutation. I'm sure many a high culture hipster is now rolling his or her eyes in a head suddenly filled with visions of acid washed denim, mullet-cut wearing dudes flanked by chicks who wished they looked like Elvira. And maybe that's as fair as anything else considering BÖC's eventualy foray into cartoon territory like the song Godzilla. But at the time of Tyranny and Mutation, the boys were still singing cryptic, bizarre, surreal and somehow almost soulful heavy metal songs such as The Red and The Black. And, baby, if it's good enough for the Minutemen, it's good enough for me. Note that while many a punk/indie band would cover '70's metal from a position of irony, I think these guys were covering this song (as they often did live, too) out of a pure love for the tune. In fact, Mike Watt did the song live when I saw him last year in Lancaster, PA. So put that in your "Vecka" and "timest" it, yo.

From yesterday's Alice Cooper to today's Al Kooper

Al Kooper formed the group Blood, Sweat and Tears, but left after their first album was released in '68. None of the tracks from this elegantly arranged and highly worthwhile album charted, but Kooper had already tasted Top 40 success as guitarist for the Royal Teens (and only 14 years old at the time), co-writer of Gary Lewis and the Playboy's This Diamond Ring and the man who laid down the spooky, unforgettable organ licks on Dylan's Like a Rolling Stone (among many other Dylan songs from Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde on Blonde). That's only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to his accomplishments (Super Session, for example, you know you love that album) and today he celebrates his 66th birthday. He wrote half the tunes on BS&T's debut, Child Is Father to the Man, including this one. Happy Birthday, Al.