Playlists

Reach for the stars, Venus and Mars are all right tonight

Posted on by brucehhackett

Part of the fun in writing this blog each week has been in coming up with topics for playlists. I have upwards of 250 themed playlists I’ve created on Spotify, many of them focusing on a key word or idea (dreams, cars, money, rain, food, sex, whatever).

This week, I went looking for songs about planets, and I was kind of surprised to find only a few — so few, in fact, that I had to stray outside my normal ’60s/’70s/’80s comfort zone to grab a few titles from more recent years to round out the list. Most of these songs, in fact, aren’t really about the actual celestial orbs but instead other meanings of the words. But what the hell. It’s still a fun playlist of eclectic musical selections, and I hope you can dig on that.

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“Mercury Blues,” Steve Miller Band, 1976

K.C. Douglas, a Mississippi blues singer/guitarist, wrote and recorded “Mercury Boogie” (later re-named “Mercury Blues”) with his trio in 1948. Its lyrics praise not the planet closest to the sun but the Mercury automobile brand, which led Ford Motor Co. to buy the rights to the song and use it in commercials. It’s been covered by several different artists, including Alan Jackson (whose 1992 version reached #2 on country charts), David Lindley on his 1981 LP, and Steve Miller, who featured his rendition on the multiplatinum 1976 album “Fly Like an Eagle.”

“Mercury Poisoning,” Graham Parker, 1979

Parker was a British pub rocker with a raw, vital delivery of soul/rock/reggae songs in the late ’70s and early ’80s. His early albums on Mercury Records were critics’ favorites, but a lack of promotion by the label resulted in anemic chart performance in the U.S. After switching to Arista in 1979 and releasing his commercial zenith, “Squeezing Out Sparks,” Parker released the single, “Mercury Poisoning,” which chronicled his poor relationship with his former label: “Well I’ve got all the diseases, I’m breaking out in sweat, you bet, because I got Mercury poisoning, /It’s fatal and it don’t get better, /I got Mercury poisoning, the best kept secret in the West…”

“Venus,” Shocking Blue, 1970

Guitarist Robbie van Leeuwen of the Dutch group Shocking Blue wrote this infectious track in 1969. Once American promoter/label owner Jerry Ross released it in the US six months later, it soared to #1, as it did in eight other countries around the world. Fiery lead vocalist Mariska Veres sang the lyrics of passionate love using Venus, the Goddess of Love, as the symbol. The song is one of only a handful in Billboard history to became a worldwide #1 hit a second time in when British vocal group Bananarama put their dance-music spin on it in 1986.

“Venus and Mars,” Paul McCartney & Wings, 1975

McCartney and his band set up camp in New Orleans in early 1975 to write and record the follow-up to their enormously successful “Band On the Run” album. Said Paul at the time: “I had this whole idea about a fellow sitting in a cathedral waiting for this transport from space that was going to take him on a trip. The guy is a bit blotto and starts thinking about ‘A good friend of mine studies the stars, Venus and Mars are all right tonight.‘ Afterwards, somebody told me Venus and Mars had just eclipsed the sun, or something. I’m not exactly sure, but I guess they aligned themselves exactly for the first time in 2,000 years. I had no idea about all this going on.” It became the title track of the album. 

“I Feel the Earth Move,” Carole King, 1971

After a decade writing huge hit singles for other artists to record, King divorced her songwriting partner Gerry Goffin and moved to Los Angeles, where she began collaborating with lyricist Toni Stern on a collection of songs that would become “Tapestry,” one of the biggest selling albums of all time. “I Feel the Earth Move,” the album’s opener, was also one half of her double A-side single with “It’s Too Late,” which reached #1 in the summer of 1971. The lyrics equate romantic passion with an earthquake “whenever you’re around.”

“Last Night on Earth,” U2, 1997

U2’s 1997 LP “Pop” was another in a long line of #1 albums for the Irish band, but it hasn’t aged well, evidenced by the fact that the group rarely performs any of its material in concert anymore. Still, “Discothèque” and “Staring at the Sun” did admirably on the charts at the time of release. One of the last tracks completed for the album was this one written six years earlier for the “Achtung Baby” LP but instead shelved away. Bono hadn’t been satisfied with the lyrics and struggled to write new ones before the band headed out on a lengthy tour. He struck on the concept of someone living passionately “as if it’s the last night on Earth.”

“Ballrooms of Mars,” T. Rex, 1972

Marc Bolan’s career paralleled that of David Bowie, who both evolved from psychedelic folk to electric rock to become pioneers of the glam rock movement by 1972. Bolan and his band, T. Rex, had only limited commercial success in the U.S., with the “Electric Warrior” and “The Slider” LPs and the Top Ten single “Bang a Gong (Get It On),” but he was huge in England. From “The Slider” came a great track called “Ballrooms of Mars,” which capitalized on Bolan’s outré persona: “You gonna look fine, be primed for dancing, /You’re gonna trip and glide, all on the trembling plane, /Your diamond hands will be stacked with roses… and we’ll dance our lives away in the ballrooms of Mars…”

“Moving to Mars,” Coldplay, 2011

This captivating track, recorded for Coldplay’s 2011 LP “Mylo Xyloto” but left off the final track listing, was instead added as a bonus track to the three-song EP “Every Teardrop is a Waterfall.” Chris Martin said it was inspired by a documentary called “Moving to Mars” that told the story of a family from Southeast Asia moved against their will to England. “To them, it seemed as radical a move as being relocated to another planet,” he said, “which intrigued me enough to write a song about it.” He said he was disappointed it didn’t make it on the album: “And I heard it on the radio that one day we’ll be living in the stars, /And I heard it on a TV show that, somewhere up above and in my heart, /They’ll be tearing us apart, maybe moving us to Mars, /We won’t see the earth again…”

“Drops of Jupiter,” Train, 2000

San Francisco-based Train has had considerable success since forming in the mid-1990s, and one of their biggest hits was this title track from their second LP in 2001. Lead singer Pat Monahan said that the song was inspired by his late mother. “The process of creation wasn’t easy because I just couldn’t figure out what to write. But one day, about a year after she died, I woke up from a dream with the words ‘back in the atmosphere’ in a sort of mantra. I think it was just her way of saying what it was like. She was swimming past the planets, and she came to me here with drops of Jupiter in her hair.” It was a multi-platinum single for Train, peaking at #5.

“Jupiter Crash,” The Cure, 1996

This influential British band led by Robert Smith has been a factor since 1980, churning out dark edgy rock that has seen major success on both sides of the Atlantic. From The Cure’s 1996 LP “Wild Mood Swings,” Smith wrote this amazing track that uses the 1994 incident when a comet struck Jupiter as a metaphor for a failed sexual encounter. “Everyone expected that Jupiter would explode or something, but it wasn’t what was anticipated,” he called. “Relationships can be like that, this big buildup followed by a sense of disappointment. There next day, people were saying, ‘That was rubbish.’ It wasn’t. It was incredible, but it just wasn’t what was expected. That was the analogy.” “Meanwhile, millions of miles away in space, the incoming comet brushes Jupiter’s face, then disappears away with barely a trace…”

“Saturn,” Stevie Wonder, 1976

Wonder had been an astonishingly prolific and successful musician for many years, including winning two Album of the Year Grammys in the previous three years. Many observers, including Wonder himself, regarded his 1976 double album “Songs in the Key of Life” to be his supreme achievement. He had so many great songs representing a range of genres that he needed a third record, a 4-song EP, to fit them all. One of those was “Saturn,” a reflection on escapism, where Wonder imagined living on a distant planet: “Going back to Saturn where the rings all glow, rainbow, moonbeams and orange snow, /On Saturn, people live to be two hundred and five, /Going back to Saturn where the people smile, /Don’t need cars, ’cause we’ve learned to fly, /On Saturn, just to live, to us, is our natural high…”

“Anus of Uranus,” Klaatu, 1976

In the summer of 1976, rumors spread that The Beatles had secretly reunited and recorded an album under a fictional name. In fact, Klaatu was a real band from Canada who made progressive rock that sounded, at times, like psychedelic-era Beatles music. (In particular, check out “Sub-Rosa Subway,” which would have fit nicely on “Magical Mystery Tour.”) Capitol Records milked the opportunity by including no band information on the cover and remaining elusive to press inquiries. The group’s quasi-cosmic lyrics and song titles, which focused on interplanetary travel, included the whimsically scatalogical “Anus of Uranus”: “Playing cards on Venus in a cloudy room, pass a glass of ammonia, I got to get off soon, /Sunbathin’ on Mercury or jammin’ on Jupiter, which do you prefer?, /Anus of Uranus, he’s a friend of mine, he’s a first-rate party and a real fine time…”

“Valleys of Neptune,” Jimi Hendrix, 1969/2010

Hendrix began work on this piece under the title “Gypsy Blood” in February 1969, then wrote the lyrics under the title “Valleys of Neptune Arising” three months later. Hendrix made several attempts at recording it with different groups of backup players, from Mitch Mitchell and Billy Cox to Stephen Stills and Buddy Miles and Steve Winwood. Hendrix died in 1970 without having completed the piece to his satisfaction, but finally, in 2010, it became the title track of an album of previously unreleased material. It’s an insightful tune, with lyrics that speak of a new era coming: “I see visions of sleeping peaks erupting, /Releasing all hell that will shake the Earth from end to end, /Singing about the new valleys of the sunrise, rainbow clean, /The world is gonna be singing about getting ready for the new tide, /The valleys of Neptune arising…”

“Pluto,” Jake Wesley Rogers, 2021

Rogers is one of the hottest new artists around, debuting in 2017 at only 21. The talented singer-songwriter composes songs that speak to his experiences growing up gay in Missouri, and yet they offer universal truths. His 2021 single “Pluto” touches on the celestial body’s status as the newest planet that later had that designation removed, and compares it to his own experience of having self-confidence that is jeopardized when others are critical: “When I was a kid, Pluto was still a planet, I’m still kinda sad about it, /Thought I was the shit ’til someone made me doubt it, I’m still kinda mad about it, /Hate on me, you might as well hate the sun for shining just a little too much, /Hate on me, maybe at the end of the day, you and me are both the same, /We just wanna be loved…”

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Oh, please stay just a little bit more

Posted on by brucehhackett

There’s an important truth about the famous singer-songwriters whose names have appeared on the charts and theater marquises over the years: By and large, their music was made much more interesting and dynamic because of the contributions of incredibly talented session musicians and touring sidemen.

To the public at large, even to many music lovers, these superb instrumentalists are mostly anonymous. Their peers in the music business know who they are — these unsung heroes who play guitars, fiddles, saxes, keyboards and percussion to fill out the arrangements of songs written by the main recording artist — but the majority of the listening audience doesn’t have a clue and probably doesn’t much care.

So the passing of the extraordinarily gifted David Lindley earlier this month most likely went unnoticed by casual music fans, even those who have enjoyed his playing without knowing who he was.

Take my word for it: If you loved the music of the acts coming out of Laurel Canyon and greater Los Angeles in the 1970s, you most definitely have heard Lindley’s work. Best known for his many appearances on records and on tour with Jackson Browne, Lindley was also an important collaborator with Graham Nash, David Crosby, James Taylor, Linda Ronstadt, Warren Zevon and a few dozen other major and minor artists in the 1970s, 1980s and beyond.

Because I’m an aficionado (read: music trivia nerd) who absorbs all sorts of information about the albums I’ve bought and the artists I’ve seen in concert, I’m one of the exceptions to the rule. I’ve been aware of Lindley’s name since at least 1972 when it appeared on the credits of Browne’s debut LP, and I’ve made note of his musical contributions ever since. He was a master of so many stringed instruments, most notably lap steel guitar, fiddle and mandolin, and the accompaniment he provided was essential to countless classic tracks.

Take a moment and peruse this list:

Ten Browne LPs: “Saturate Before Using” (1972), “For Everyman” (1973), “Late For the Sky” (1974), “The Pretender (1976), “Running on Empty” (1977), “Hold Out” (1980), “Lives in the Balance (1986), “World in Motion” (1989), “I’m Alive” (1993) and “Looking East” (1996)

Five Zevon albums: “Warren Zevon” (1976), “Sentimental Hygiene” (1987), “Transverse City” (1989), “Mutineer” (1994) and “The Wind” (2003)

Ronstadt’s “Heart Like A Wheel” (1974), “Prisoner in Disguise” (1975) and “Simple Dreams” (1977)

Three Nash solo LPs: “Songs For Beginners” (1971), “Wild Tales” (1973) and “Earth and Sky” (1980)

Ry Cooder’s “Jazz” (1978) and “Bop ‘Til You Drop” (1979)

Crosby & Nash’s “Wind On the Water” (1975) and “Whistling Down the Wire” (1976)

Shawn Colvin’s “Fat City” (1992)

James Taylor’s “In the Pocket” (1976)

Maria Muldaur’s 1973 debut

Karla Bonoff’s “Restless Nights” (1979)

Various LPs by America, Bob Dylan, Dolly Parton, John Prine, Marshall Crenshaw, Emmylou Harris, Joe Walsh and Leo Sayer

The guy seemed to be everywhere, largely in a subtle, understated way, providing sweet lap steel guitar passages, lovely fiddle phrasings and distinctive slide guitar solos. That’s the important characteristic of the very best session musicians: They play TO the song and the arrangement, bringing just the right amount of finesse that the track required, no more and no less.

One reason certain musicians are in such high demand for recording sessions is they have shown time and time again that they are reliably proficient at their instrument and how to provide just the right atmosphere and the combination of notes, sustains and rests. In L.A. in the ’70s, if you wanted fiddle in the mix, your first call was to Lindley. Mandolin? Lindley again. Slide guitar? Lap steel guitar? Plain ol’ acoustic guitar? You just never went wrong when Lindley was in your studio.

Perhaps his most recognizable bit was the slide guitar that was prominently featured on Browne’s 1977 Top Ten tune “Running on Empty” and made it such an enduring hit, capturing both the exhilaration and exhaustion of life on the road. Lindley also had his moment of comic relief on that album and tour when he sang the exaggerated falsetto in the middle of Browne’s cover of the 1962 chestnut “Stay.”

My favorite Lindley contribution came in “For a Dancer,” Browne’s heartbreaking 1974 tearjerker about a friend who had died. Lindley’s fiddle part throughout tugs at the listener’s heartstrings in such an integral way that it’s near impossible to imagine the song without it. Go back five years earlier to The Youngbloods’ intense “Darkness, Darkness” and you’ll hear a young Lindley’s fiddle adding just the right mystical touch to that song, later re-recorded by its composer, Jesse Colin Young.

Even Bruce Springsteen made use of Lindley’s talents, although it took a long time for us to hear it. That’s his fiddle gracing the alternate take of “Racing in the Streets,” found on the 2010 package “The Promise,” a track originally from Springsteen’s “Darkness on the Edge of Town” LP.

So where did this instrumental wunderkind come from? Lindley was born and raised in San Marino, an LA suburb near Pasadena, the son of a music enthusiast who exposed him to a broad range of musical genres and instruments through an extensive record collection. Korean folk music, Indian sitar albums, West Virginia bluegrass, Greek bouzouki, Bakersfield country music — all of it and more made an impact on Lindley from a young age. He was only four when he started playing violin, then ukulele by six, guitar at eight and banjo at 11.

He was a voracious student of the musical styles and techniques he was hearing and sought to emulate them on a wide array of stringed instruments. “I even opened up the upright piano in the playhouse out in back of my parents’ house to get at the strings and see how they worked,” he recalled in a 2008 interview. He said he had no idea how many different instruments he could play, but a photo taken for Acoustic Guitar magazine in 2000 (see below) gives a pretty good indication. From dulcimer to autoharp, from the Middle Eastern our to the Turkish saz, Lindley could coax amazing sounds from them all.

David Lindley and his collection of instruments

As a teen, he won the Topanga Canyon Banjo/Fiddle Contest five straight years, and often frequented the Ash Grove and Troubadour clubs to hear some of the more eclectic genres not necessarily in vogue on the radio. It was there that he formed a bond with Ry Cooder, who shared his love for folk and roots music.

Lindley soon partnered with Chris Darrow and others to form a band called Kaleidoscope that offered “psychedelic folk,” and although their albums barely charted, they were favorites of such major influencers as Jimmy Page (who called them “my ideal band, absolutely brilliant”) and San Francisco DJ Tom Donahue. At the bottom of this piece, I’ve included a handful of Kaleidoscope tracks in a diverse Spotify playlist that chronicles Lindley’s recorded legacy.

Following that project, Lindley spent a couple of years in England playing with guitarist/singer Terry Reid before returning to L.A., where he became fast friends with Browne just as his star was beginning to rise. His work on Browne’s records (check out the slide guitar on “The Fuse” from 1976’s “The Pretender”) attracted the attention of Nash, Crosby, Ronstadt, Taylor and others.

Lindley left Browne’s band after the 1980 “Hold Out” tour, largely because Browne encouraged him to branch out. “I thought he should be appreciated in his own right,” said Browne in 2010, “but there were times when I thought it was the craziest and stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

Lindley’s 1981 LP “El Rayo-X”

In 1981, Lindley’s one brush with commercial success came with his solo debut, “El Rayo-X,” one of the most eccentric and wildly disparate albums of its time. With the help of seasoned players like Bill Payne, Garth Hudson and Bob Glaub, and Browne adding some vocals, Lindley offered up funk, snarling blues, vintage rock & roll, Cajun, Zydeco, reggae and Middle Eastern rhythms, and it reached a modest #81 on the US album charts.

For a guy who found himself in the vortex of Southern California hedonistic excess, Lindley kept all of that at arm’s length. On tour, when most of the band and entourage were partying hard at after-show gatherings, Lindley tended to retreat to his hotel room with an instrument or two, always looking for new ways to inject life into a song. “There are all sorts of variations,” he once said. “Some fans don’t get it. They say, ‘What you do is so good — why don’t you guys just keep playing like that?’ But when I see that exotic cheesecake in the glass case, I think, ‘I want to try that. It looks really good.’ I’m always looking to experiment with new sounds, new ways of playing things.”

In the wake of Lindley’s passing March 3rd at age 78, a number of his compatriots emerged with words of praise. “One of the most talented musicians I’ve ever known,” Graham Nash wrote. “David could play pretty much any instrument you put in front of him with incredible versatility and expression. He was truly a musician’s musician.”

“Lindley’s unique sound and style,” said guitarist Peter Frampton, “gave him away in one note.”

Warren Haynes, who played guitar for The Allman Brothers Band from 1989 to 2014, had this to say: “His lap steel playing in particular was a big influence on me. Often times when I’m approaching a song or solo in a major key, Lindley’s influence will appear automatically. His style was so vocalesque, and his sense of melody was a deep well. His solos became part of the song to the point where even non-musicians could hum along.”

R.I.P., Mr. Lindley. Your contributions have not gone unnoticed by your peers (nor by me and those who read this blog)…

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