As I sat to write a few sentences about Michael McDermott, I intended to do so in “whatever became of” terms. Then I saw he’d just released a new album a month and a half ago, and read that he’s rebuilding his career, and his life, after some very dark years.
A Chicago Tribune article from 2011 tells the sad story of a kid who once was being compared to Dylan and Springsteen, but who ultimately couldn’t handle the trappings of talent and let cocaine and other forms of self-abuse derail his promising career. The story had a reasonably happy ending.
It would be reasonable to assume the members of a band named ‘Carolina Liar’ would hail from one of the Carolinas. Turns out lead singer Chad Wolfe, from Charleston, SC is the only one. His three band mates are from Sweden.
Modern Rock radio embraced the band on the release of their 2008 debut, Coming to Terms, but their pop melodicism set them apart within that format.
Once when asked why the Beatles chose their name, Paul McCartney answered, “for all you know, we might have been called the Shoes.”
This is that band. A new-wavy power pop band out of Zion, Illinois and one of the brave few who dropped kernels of power pop along the path leading into the late 70’s and early 80’s, bridging the gap from the Raspberries to the Knack.
Those of us who don’t really care to check the expiration date of a genre of music bought Shoes CDs. There weren’t enough of us, which is why you’ve probably never heard of them.
80’s synth pop, like every other era and every other genre, had its true classic songs–and others we loved then and grew out of like our old Brittania jeans (or Jordache if you prefer).
But a number of good songs, perhaps potentially timeless ones, have been trapped in that decade’s cold synthetic sheen as if in amber. Once in a while an artist will take an acoustic guitar to one and thaw it out, allowing us see its beauty once more.
Duncan Sheik’s 2011 release, entitled Covers 80’s, warms up a dozen such trapped-in-the-80’s songs by artists such as Depeche Mode, New Order and The Cure. Here he reminds us that The Thompson Twins’ “Hold Me Now” probably could have been a hit in any era since.
Warren Zevon: “Looking For the Next Best Thing” (1982)
Some years ago a little stray quote made its way to my doorstep. And since I’ve long since forgotten where it came from I’ve adopted it and treated it as my own. It went something like: A great guitar solo has a beginning, a middle and an end.
When I think of the quote, this is the song that always comes to mind. Session ace Waddy Wachtel’s solo in “Looking For the Next Best Thing” is like a little half-minute story, and a how-to guide for budding prospectives on constructing a solo that doesn’t just sound like a lot of wanking around.
The song has significance for me beyond the fact that it contains one of my favorite solos. Let’s just say that, hypothetically, if two people who each had some less-than-successful relationship history found themselves attracted to each other, this song could potentially make a nice icebreaker between them.
Bruce U. Utah Phillips combined the folk balladry of Woody Guthrie, the pro-union activism of Pete Seeger and the storytelling gift of Mark Twain. His songs about railroads and hobos were sparsely adorned but always entertaining.
I was exposed to little folk music as a youngster, unless you count my dad’s record collection, which offered the safe, sanitized version: The New Christy Minstrels (who were pointedly lampooned as the “New Main Street Singers” in A Mighty Wind) and the Serendipity Singers (ditto). Not that I have a problem with The New Christy Minstrels, who happen to have recorded my favorite Christmas album of all time.
But true folk music made it into my life in a limited way, so what I heard was bound to carry a lot of weight in my assessment of the genre. I’m grateful to have been exposed, by my oldest brother, to Utah Phillips and to “Moose Turd Pie” in particular. It helped broaden my world a little, even if I had few (or no) friends at the time who cared to have their horizons similarly broadened.
I’d like to think that whatever your musical persuasions you’ll appreciate “Moose Turd Pie.” Give it a taste.
Every Moment Has A Song 