Many places deserve to be called the birthplace of rock ’n’ roll. Memphis often gets the nod because that’s where Sam Phillips of Sun Records recorded Elvis Presley belting out an impromptu, uptempo cover of “That’s All Right” in 1954. Cleveland makes the list since it’s the place where, in 1951, a local disc jockey named Alan Freed coined the genre’s name. Chicago’s claim precedes Cleveland’s by several years; in 1948, McKinley Morganfield, aka Muddy Waters, took the tiny stage of a neighborhood tavern called Club Zanzibar, pulled up a chair, and played his hollow-body electric guitar so loud, the sounds emanating from his small amplifier crashed upon the sweaty crowd in waves of soul-stirring distortion.
Those would all be good choices, but for author Ian Port, whose new book, The Birth of Loud, has just been published by Scribner, the birthplace of rock ’n’ roll could also be the former farming community of Fullerton in Orange County, California. That’s where an electronics autodidact name Clarence Leonidas “Leo” Fender founded a radio repair shop in 1938. By 1943, Fender and a friend named Clayton “Doc” Kaufman, who was Fender’s business partner in those days, had taken a solid plank of oak, painted it glossy black, attached a pickup at one end, and strung its length with steel strings…
CreditCreditPeter Dazeley/The Image Bank, via Getty Images
(via The New York Times) By Greg Milner
It’s Grammy time, and as always, watching the awards ceremony on Sunday will include a subtext of cross-generational carping: “They don’t make music the way they used to,” the boomers and Gen Xers will mutter. And they’ll be right. Music today, at least most of it, is fundamentally different from what it was in the days of yore — the 1970s and 80s.
Last year, the industry celebrated a sales milestone. The Recording Industry Association of America certified that the Eagles’ “Their Greatest Hits (1971-1975),” was the best-selling album of all time, with sales of 38 million. (The formula took account of vinyl, CD and streaming purchases. Purists will have to put aside the fact that a greatest hits collection is not really an LP album as most of us know it.)
It was a full-circle moment — the album, released almost exactly 43 years ago, was the first to be awarded platinum status (sales of one million), an evocative reminder that songs were once commodities so valuable that millions of people would even buy them in repackaged form. It was also a taken as a quiet victory for people who believe that music today is too loud…
Though dubbed Auckland, New Zealand’s smartass retort to Sum 41 by Allmusic, Steriogram are so much more. On their second album, the David Kahne-produced Schmack, the band combine pop punk with Beastie Boys-style white boy rap, Nirvanaesque riffage, Weezer’s gawky sense of humor, and classic rock reference all to glorious effect.
Tyson Kennedy’s snark rap vocals play against Brad Carter, who carries the chorus melody on “Walkie Talkie Man”, and it’s all pinned on a mighty Kinks-inspired riff and an exuberance that schmacks of too many energy drinks.
I recommend reading along to this one.
Well you’re walkin and a talkin And a movin and a groovin And a hippin and a hoppin And a pickin and a boppin Those bods are being bad You better take a stand You gonna wake up that thing in your hand You’re looking all around There is trouble to be found Make sure when you find it you get to say it loud Gotta code three Need back up Bring me my bright pink fluro jacket
He’s fat and he don’t run too fast (Well you’re walkin and a talkin) But he’s faster than me (You’re my walkie talkie man) Last night at the show we saw him (Well you’re walkin and a talkin) Going out of his tree (Go Go Go Go)
Well you’re walkin and a talkin And a freakin and a yellin And a bossin and a speakin And a lookin and a pointin Always tell us what to do With your high top shoes And you wave your torch With your black short shorts Don’t let em get away Don’t think they can play Nail ’em to the wall Cause you really need to say Gotta code three Need back up Bring me My bright pink fluro jacket
He’s fat and he don’t run too fast (Well you’re walkin and a talkin) But he’s faster than me (You’re my walkie talkie man) Last night at the show we saw him (Well you’re walkin and a talkin) Going out of his tree (just the drums!)
He’s fat and he don’t run too fast But he’s faster than me Last night at the show we saw him Going out of his tree
He’s fat and he don’t run too fast But he’s faster than me Last night at the show we saw him Going out of his tree He’s a walkie talkie man!
Well you’re walkin and a talkin And a movin and a groovin And a hippin and a hoppin And a pickin and a boppin Those bods are being bad You better take a stand You gonna wake up that thing in your hand You’re looking all around There is trouble to be found Make sure when you find it you get to say it loud Gotta code three Need back up Bring me My bright pink fluro jacket
The Grammy-nominated video is pretty yarn good, too: