So you think rock n’ roll has fostered some pretty rough characters, eh? Some real wicked mothers, huh? Forget about it. Frank Sinatra did it bigger, badder, more atrociously and with more inspired outrage than any mere rock upstart. And he did it first, blazing a trail for the wanton…
Steve Diggle’s name-dropping again. The Buzzcocks’ guitarist is lounging around a Cleveland hotel room, telephone in hand, mentioning how he’s still “mates” with Clash co-founders Joe Strummer and Mick Jones. “I run into them in clubs now and then,” Diggle says, shrugging. “It’s always a pleasure to see em.” Diggle’s…
With names like Townes Van Zandt, Robert Earl Keen Jr. and Guy Clark signed to recording contracts, you might think Sugar Hill Records was housed next to some barbecue joint in Austin, Texas. It ain’t. And although it once harbored current Music City stalwarts like Ricky Skaggs and hillbilly rocker…
Jim Rose was born and raised in Phoenix. Now he hammers nails into his nose and eats light bulbs for a living. Simple coincidence? Cause and effect? Maybe a little of both. Rose is the ringleader, the boss, the master of scarimonies of the Jim Rose Circus Sideshow, a group…
God is in everything, as the good book says, and He’s especially in the conversation of Bad Brains’ bassist, Darryl Jenifer. Strange as it may seem, the group that essentially created the punk/funk/ethno-metal/reggae sound 16 years ago has something in common with gleaming-white vocalist Pat Boone: an unfailing belief in…
Violent Femmes vocalist Gordon Gano is smoking something in a fancy hotel room somewhere in Cincinnati. His drags are too long for a cigarette, and it can’t be a pipe. Not enough sucking noises. One deep, long, exaggerated whoosh. “It’s a cigaaaar,” Gano breathes passionately. He’s sucking on an Ashton,…
Ask any big star about telephone interviews, and he’ll tell you that there’s an art to blowing them off. The trick, from a musician’s point of view, is to dust off a writer without stirring up a grudge. After all, you never know when your tour or album might need…
Pearl Jam Vs. (Epic) They’re back for round two, folks. Vs., the second album from Pearl Jam, finds the Seattle grunge men cranking it out in top form. Though Eddie Vedder’s voice has always been the band’s main feature–the vibrating, gut-driven growls of one white boy’s angst–the guitars of Stone…
It’s hard to believe that in 1906, the term “funk” referred to sexual body odors, and only some 50 years later to a music that sounded just as dirty. No one in yer grandma’s lifetime has done as much as George Clinton, the Parliament/Funkadelic kingpin, to supply a soundtrack for…
Time and rhythms are fluid for George Clinton. His clock and metronome have always ticked at speeds different than the remainder of humanity’s. “Damn, was ‘Up for the Down Stroke’ 20 years ago?” the father of funk asks by telephone from the Detroit studio where he’s producing a duo of…
The rules of music promotion force stars to help sell their products by declaring each new album to be a) a work of genius, or b) different from anything they’ve done before. Both are malarkey–but time-tested, effective malarkey–concocted to make record buyers feel better about paying for something their favorite…
“I know what I’m striving for, and it’s never to re-create music from the past,” says saxophone prodigy Joshua Redman. “It’s not a goal of mine to call attention to the lost greatness of the jazz legacy or how the music was so much better before.” Joshua Redman doesn’t fit…
In the late 60s, Loudon Wainwright III was following the club-and-college circuit, plucking at a guitar and warbling his weirdness to tie-dyed crowds of acid victims. There were a lot of white guys folking it up with six-strings back then. And as with a handful of his contemporaries, Wainwright was…
Bill Janovitz vividly remembers the night last summer when his band’s manager called with big news. “He said, ‘I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is you got a five-page spread in Rolling Stone. The bad news is you guys have to do this fashion type of…
Matthew Sweet is chuckling. At times, he’s even laughing. Sprinkle in some giggles, a chortle and an occasional “tee-hee,” and you pretty much get the picture: Matthew Sweet, one of the darkest songwriters in pop, is, in person, about as glum and gloomy as a high school cheerleader. “People always…
John Hiatt’s heard it all before. Over 40. Past his prime. Lost his edge. Too old, too tired and, lately, too happy to still be relevant. “Too happy is the one that gets me,” Hiatt growls over the phone from L.A. “Has anyone ever been too happy?” These days, Hiatt…
It took me by surprise. Listening again to “Linger” by the Cranberries, I now heard heretofore undetected bird trills. Actually, this very minor aural revelation wasn’t what startled me. After numerous spins of the disc, I was used to the abrupt emergence of quirky, tantalizing sonics. The band got the…
Rockabilly retrorocket Colin Winski has spent most of his life in a love-hate relationship with the ghost of Elvis. Blessed–or cursed–with a physical resemblance striking enough to trigger an Elvis sighting, Winski has spent 15 years alternately promoting and defending himself against comparisons to the King. Looking like Elvis has…
Without drugs, there’d be no such thing as popular music. Virtually every major form of tonal exploration in this country has gotten a good measure of spunk from a particular drug of choice–bluegrass and corn liquor, folk and caffeine, techno and ecstasy, jazz and heroin, reggae and pot, rock and…
There’s an agonizing scene in Saxophone Colossus, the 1986 documentary film about jazz saxophonist Sonny Rollins. The tenor man is playing an outdoor gig in New York in which, in the course of three minutes of unaccompanied soloing, he quotes from “A Tisket, A Tasket,” “Over the Rainbow” and “The…
From the outside, the mobile home where Joe Harless launched his journey to musical fame and fortune looked like just another tin can on another street in Chandler: There was a faded Chevy van with smashed windows and a flat tire, browning palm fronds littered the yard, a cage of…
Arizona’s music scene is in an unusual state these days. Here in the Valley, hip-hop knuckleheads Phunk Junkeez and smooth R&B singer Malaika are blossoming into national acts. And speaking of Blossoms, the smashing success of Tempe’s Gin Blossoms has grown to the point that divine intervention is the only…
