Paul McCartney & Wings Rockshow For The Ages

Music DVD Review: Paul McCartney & Wings – Rockshow

Rockshow, the long-awaited concert film documenting Paul McCartney & Wings historic 1976 Wings Over America tour, is better than it really has any right to be. This isn’t so much because of the surprisingly high quality of the video and audio restoration (particularly considering its near forty year vintage), nor of the performance itself (which is excellent start to stop).

Rather, what makes Rockshow a particularly stunning achievement is when you take into account the venue where the bulk of this concert was actually recorded. Seattle’s enormous Kingdome was a gigantic, indoor structure made entirely of cement. A domed stadium built primarily for Seattle’s then NFL expansion team the Seahawks, the Kingdome was the sort of acoustical nightmare that was never meant to play host to rock shows, even of the stadium-sized variety.

Over time, the NFL eventually figured out the Kingdome wasn’t that great for football either, and in March 2000, it finally fell victim to the wrecking ball.

Even so – and despite the fact that loud amplified music really has nowhere else to go inside a gigantic cement cavern, but to bounce off the walls – many superstar rock acts braved the challenges of the venue, and made the attempt anyway.

My own Kingdome concert memories include being worried enough about the noisy din Led Zeppelin created there – and noticing a few cracks in the cement walls – to park myself near an exit ramp, just in case. Opening for Aerosmith at the Kingdome, Jeff Beck was so pissed off at the horrendous sound, at one point he even made a crack welcoming the crowd to “the Kingdome echo chamber.”

But in 1976, Paul McCartney & Wings were the first to break the Kingdome in for rock shows. Most of us old-school veterans of Seattle’s rock scene agree to this day, that from the Stones and the Eagles, to U2 and The Who, Macca still remains the only guy who was able to really pull it off. At the time, Wings Kingdome performance also set an indoor concert attendance record for North America – drawing in an astounding 67,000 fans.

I believe that record also still stands for Seattle shows, although Kenny Chesney’s annual country-fest at Century Link Field has probably long since eclipsed the gross profit margin record in the modern age of higher-priced tickets.

Interestingly, McCartney will be repeating history in just a few weeks in Seattle, when he becomes the first rock act to play the Mariners ballpark at Safeco Field.

One of the coolest pictures in the booklet that accompanies the Rockshow DVD, is of Paul and the rest of Wings leaning out over the outer-railing of the Kingdome’s 300 level, and waving to the thousands of fans gathered outside in the parking lot. As one of those fans who was actually there, I totally remember that.

Which is just one of the reasons why Rockshow represents such a perfectly executed snapshot of that historic show.

What makes it all the more amazing though, is the way this DVD not only overcomes the obvious limitations of its source, but also the video technology of its day, to quite remarkably freeze a moment in time. The show was pretty amazing to begin with, but this DVD creates a timewarp that comes as close to transporting you back to 1976 as it gets.

Paul McCartney still puts on great shows today, of course.

But unlike the way his current concerts take you on a nostalgic trip down memory lane, the 1976 Wings Over America tour was a period where McCartney was in the midst of a second artistic and commercial peak as a solo artist, and with his then still new band Wings. It was also Macca’s first major North American tour since the Beatles, and not surprisingly, a genuine media event.

I can still remember bumping into a young Geraldo Rivera at the Kingdome that night, covering the show for a piece on ABC’s 20/20. A handful of Beatles songs – including “Lady Madonna,” “The Long And Winding Road,” and of course, “Yesterday” – were still played.

But the post-Beatles material which made up the bulk of the setlist that night, was received every bit as enthusiastically by this crowd. From the opening medley of “Venus And Mars/Rock Show/Jet,” through the main set closer “Band On The Run,” the post-Beatles catalog McCartney was still building at the time, plays just as strongly on this DVD, as his more celebrated work with the former Fabs.

In fact, the stunning version of “Maybe I’m Amazed” from this show was so good, it was released as the lead-off single from the live Wings Over America album, and went on to become a Top Ten hit.

But the other thing which becomes apparent in revisiting this concert on DVD, is that at least in concert, Wings was very much a fully realized band, rather than merely Macca’s backup crew. As seen here, the band members switch off on instruments during a number of points as the songs dictate. But there are also a number of turns where the individual members are allowed their own moments in the spotlight to shine.

The late guitarist Jimmy McCulloch’s axe-work is stellar throughout, but is particularly impressive when he leads the rest of Wings early in the set through a raucous version of “Medicine Jar.” Denny Laine is equally great when he assumes his own lead duties during “Spirits Of Ancient Egypt,” “Time To Hide,” and his own former Moody Blues hit “Go Now.”

But more than that, Wings prove themselves more than up to the task of functioning as a quite formidable, muscular sounding rock band. On Rockshow, Wings rock much harder than McCartney’s reputation for “Silly Love Songs” might suggest. Truth be told, they even rock the crap out of that one.

Paul McCartney & Wings Rockshow has been released in bits and pieces over the years, beginning with limited theatrical, Betamax, and Laserdisc versions in the early eighties, and most recently in a shortened version on the 2007 DVD release The McCartney Years.

But this represents the first time that the complete concert – fully restored and remastered from the original 35mm film, and remixed in glorious 5.1 sound – has been made commercially available.

Talk about your days of future past! Taken alongside Macca’s current Out There tour, as well as the recently expanded Wings Over America box, we can’t think of a better re-entry portal through the rock and roll time tunnel.

Paul McCartney & Wings Rockshow arrives this Tuesday on DVD and Blu-ray.

*Article first published at Blogcritics.

R.E.M.’s Journey To Greener Pastures

Music Review: R.E.M. – Green: The 25th Anniversary Deluxe Edition

Green wasn’t my favorite R.E.M. album when it was first released way back in 1988, and to be perfectly honest, it still isn’t. Not by a longshot.

But it was definitely a turning point, both in terms of where they were headed creatively, and certainly – pardon the expression, here – a glimpse ahead towards their eventual ascent to the “greener,” and more lucrative commercial pastures still to come.

At the time, Green represented an artistic shift for the former Athens, Georgia based darlings of alternative, largely underground college radio. What can be better understood now in retrospect, is that Green was one of those unique portraits of a promising, but still young band, standing perched at the crossroads.

Surprisingly, their graduation from the ranks of indie – though, not really – imprint I.R.S., to the big leagues at Warner Brothers, didn’t diminish any of their indie-cred. In that respect, R.E.M. was seemingly bulletproof, even when it came to their core-constituency of music nerds and critics like me (who appreciated their retro-Byrds jangle), and hipsters (who liked them because, well, because they were cool).

But the musical changes that came along with R.E.M.’s rise to the majors, though subtle in ways, were still hard to miss. From “Radio Free Europe” to “Fall On Me,” R.E.M.’s songs always carried a great pop sensibility with them, and that aforementioned Roger McGuinn guitar twang Peter Buck had perfected to a science only further reinforced this. But what was different about the songs on Green was that the sound itself was so much bigger than it had ever been before.

One listen to the punchier, harder sounding rock of “Stand” and “Orange Crush,” and there was little doubt that R.E.M. had their eyes on the prize of mainstream rock radio airplay, and of making the big leap from 3000 seat theaters to 15000 seat arenas.

Interestingly enough, R.E.M.’s biggest commercial success came not as a result of their brief reincarnation as an album-radio worthy hard rock band, but when they actually quieted down a bit on their next few Warner Brothers albums, Out Of Time and Automatic For The People.

But if indie-pop was what initially brought R.E.M. to the big dance in the first place, songs like Green’s “Get Up” and “Pop Song 89″ proved they still had a few of those steps left in them yet.

“Pop Song 89″ (a genuine power-pop gem), is perhaps best remembered for the hooky lyric “Hello, I saw you, I knew you, I think I remember your name.” But it may have also been the very first time that Stipe’s lyrics were so easily deciphered, and for some of us this became a real bone of contention.

As much as the bigger sounding production on Green brought the brightness out from under the comparative murk of previous R.E.M. recordings, this also meant the certain end of all those endless nights trying to sort out just what Stipe was singing about for music obsessives like myself.

In that respect, the thrill was gone.

Fortunately, I’m no longer a twenty-something music snob, and I can now appreciate this album for what it truly was, and remains today. Not only do the songs sound great now, Green also represents one of those rare snapshots, of a young band of arty upstarts in transition, shedding their former skins to eventually claim their future place amongst the truly great ones.

Green is still not my favorite R.E.M. album. I’ll always have a softer spot for the band’s I.R.S. days, and albums like Fables Of The Reconstruction and Life’s Rich Pageant. Lotta’ memories there. But it is essential listening nonetheless.

Green: The 25th Anniversary Deluxe Edition comes housed in a hard clamshell box, with four postcards and a foldout poster, plus insightful liner notes by Uncut editor, Allan Jones. It also includes a second disc featuring the complete live show recorded in Greensboro, North Carolina on November 10, 1989, parts of which were previously released as Tourfilm. For R.E.M. fans, this is essential listening.

For the rest of us, it’s a worthy start.

*Article first published at Blogcritics

Not Fade Away, Almost Famous & The Uneasy Marriage Of Rock & Film

The Sopranos creator David Chase’s first full-length feature film Not Fade Away – out this week on Blu-ray and DVD – is far from perfect. Sadly, it also didn’t do all that well at the box office.

But it is still probably the best, most lovingly crafted dramatic movie with a narrative dealing directly with rock and roll, since Cameron Crowe’s much more commercially successful, like-minded cinematic love letter, Almost Famous.

Both films share a nostalgic, largely romanticized (and perhaps slightly exaggerated), backdrop of Rock’s “Golden Age” in the 1960s and ’70s, to tell a broader, coming-of-age story, dealing primarily with the loss of youthful innocence.

The stories themselves also tend to get a bit lost in their soundtracks, particularly in the case of Chase’s Not Fade Away. This features an absolutely killer, dead-on accurate, mix of ’60s rock hits and garage-punk obscurities, assembled with the unmistakable attention to historical detail of musical director Little Steven Van Zandt.

Another quality the two movies have in common is how personal they both feel, especially if you were actually there.

This isn’t surprising, considering that both scripts draw heavily upon the personal biographies of their respective directors. What comes through most on-screen in the case of each though, is the obvious love and passion these two directors share for the initial, but seemingly unfulfilled promise of rock and roll.

It certainly touched a nerve with me, particularly in the case of Crowe’s Almost Famous. Cameron Crowe’s nerdy and socially awkward autobiographical high-school rock journalist, who gets his big break writing for Rolling Stone, could just as easily have come from my own personal diary.

Well, except maybe for the Rolling Stone part.

I could even tell you my own true story of sharing a Seattle hotel elevator with Crowe, David Crosby, Graham Nash, and then Rolling Stone editor Ben-Fong Torres back on CSNY’s 1974 reunion “Doom Tour.” When I naively asked Crowe where Neil Young was, I can still remember this young upstart’s snide, but knowing reply of “Broken Arrow…again.”

Obviously, Cameron had a little more perspective than I did. He was already an insider, and I was just a teenage wannabe on the outside looking in. Which probably explains why he eventually married Heart’s Nancy Wilson and I didn’t (even though Nancy later signed my copy of Dog And Butterfly – sigh! – to “Mister Glen”). I still have that autographed album. But that’s another story, perhaps best saved for another day, and another article.

Likewise, the primary character in Not Fade Away is said to be based on David Chase’s own experiences as a teenager forming a dysfunctional rock band in 1960s New Jersey with some high school buddies. This also hit a very personal note.

Like that character, I too had some experience putting together my own questionably talented rock band, starting out as the drummer, and eventually graduating to become lead singer. The difference in my own case, was we just found a much better drummer lying right under our noses all along. In Not Fade Away, the character portrayed by largely unknown actor John Magaro gets the job because he can actually carry a tune.

But since I was the 15-year-old guy who owned the drum set – we were all pals – and especially since nobody else could sing (not that I could either), they handed me a microphone. I also wrote some fairly decent lyrics like “please give me my mike back” (a reference to the neighbor who sent his kid out to shut one of our backyard rehearsals down).

But who is sweating the details?

At least the band members in Not Fade Away played a few cool gigs, and got to audition before recording legend Jerry Ragavoy (an obvious Van Zandt touch, and a nice one at that). My own failed pre-high school rock band “Furnace” never made it past our lone paid gig at the West Seattle YMCA.

I remember that night mostly for the stupid Nazi flag I wore (which for some odd, misguided reason I thought was pretty bad-ass at the time), and for some neighborhood tough guy hassling me about the flag/cape and my proudly worn, purple stacked platform heels. These didn’t just make me look cool; they also made me look a bit taller, shortness of course being the secret curse of all aspiring rock stars. Just ask Prince.

I also remember that despite my Nazi capes and scarves, (borrowed from a neighbor whose politics might have been somewhat questionable in hindsight), I definitely did not get any “Satisfaction” that night. So much for reaping the sexual spoils of playing bad Rolling Stones covers at the Y’s all-city teen dance party.

Conversely, my still-in-progress “career” as a rock journalist has been slightly more successful, though I have yet to be able to earn a decent, full-time living at it.

Beyond the personal connection though, what I loved most about both Almost Famous and Not Fade Away, was the loving care to detail. Yes, you would be right in calling these movies nostalgic “period pieces.” Both unabashedly and unashamedly romanticize their respective ’60s and ’70s time capsules, and the great music that framed them.

But in telling their stories about two young men growing up and coming of age during the “classic” era of rock and roll, both Chase and Crowe nail the mood of those amazing times perfectly. In that respect alone, Not Fade Away and Almost Famous can almost be viewed as companion pieces to one another.

Of course, the marriage between music and movies has not always been an easy one, at least not when it comes to rock and roll. But there have been some noteworthy exceptions. Two cases that spring immediately to mind are those of George Lucas and Martin Scorsese.

Before Lucas ever directed the original Star Wars trilogy, he was responsible for what is quite possibly the greatest closing credits roll in all of film history with American Graffiti.

This is where the Beach Boys “All Summer Long” follows that pivotal final scene of a young Richard Dreyfuss spotting that elusive VW Beetle – the one with the dream girl he had been chasing after for the entire movie – from his airplane window. For different reasons, Lucas’ use of Dylan’s “Like A Rolling Stone” during the credits roll after the final scene of American Graffiti’s less celebrated sequel, is equally poignant.

As for Scorsese, what would Goodfellas be without Eric Clapton’s “Layla”? Or, for that matter, The Departed minus the Stones’ “Gimmie Shelter”? The fact that Scorsese went on to produce great rockumentaries, like The Band’s Last Waltz, and his biopics on Dylan, George Harrison, and the Rolling Stones, speaks for itself.

But for every Stop Making Sense in the history of rock and film, you’ll also find an equally matching piece of genuine dog-crap like The Bee Gees’ disastrous reboot of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.

I mean, what were they thinking?

Chase’s Not Fade Away works mostly on the strength of a handful of great performances, most notably by James “Tony Soprano” Gandolfini (a role he mainly reprises here, but without all the mobbed up strip bars and gunplay), and John Magaro as its brooding, Dylan-haired, Jagger-lipped protagonist.

The amazing, Little Steven-curated soundtrack is what really steals the show though. Rife with all those period-perfect songs from The Beatles, The Rascals, The Kinks, and lesser-knowns like The Left Banke, it fits this film like a well-worn glove. Little Steven, aided by fellow E-Streeters Max Weinberg and Garry W. Tallent, also had a considerable hand in the original songs, all of which strike a perfect chord of ’60s rock authenticity.

But in a lot of ways, Not Fade Away is as much about the Rolling Stones, and their impact on a young 1960s America, as it is about the actual characters in the movie.

Not Fade Away pays the necessary lip service to The Beatles that it should. The authenticity of the film would no doubt be in question otherwise. But there is little doubt who the guys in the movie are really fashioning their fledgling little 1960s New Jersey bred rock band after.

From its opening scene of that infamous London train meeting between Jagger and Richards (portrayed by an uncanny doppelganger for the young Keith), to the actual footage of the Stones American TV debut (and TV host Dean Martin’s none too subtle dismissal), Chase’s obvious affection for the Stones is pretty hard to miss.

Which is a little ironic, given just how far the original, scruffy bad boys of rock (that you wouldn’t want your daughter to marry) have come, to their current position of reigning, but aging millionaires mostly riding on past glories.

Just this past week, the Stones had to adjust some of their ridiculously overpriced concert tickets down for opening night on their 50 And Counting tour, just to guarantee what used to be a routine arena sellout.

What can a poor boy do, indeed.

As tempting as it might be to wallow in the nostalgia of movies like Almost Famous and Not Fade Away, and to wander just where rock and roll lost its way, I prefer instead to consider just how far we have come. Which is certainly miles beyond Hollywood’s earliest attempts at rock and roll cinema (Beach Blanket Bingo anyone?).

In today’s corporate America, the term “Rock Star” has been reduced to something meaningless, or at least something which scantly resembles its original definition. These days, it is used as much to describe the empty suits climbing the very same ladder that rock once so valiantly railed against. But in revisiting what brought us here, movies like this also serve as a reminder of how far we still have to go.

Bruce Springsteen may have said it best when he once wrote the words “show a little faith, there’s magic in the night.”

No retreat. No surrender.

*Article first published at Blogcritics

Bob Marley’s Kaya: No Sellout

Music Review: Bob Marley & The Wailers – Kaya: 35th Anniversary Deluxe Edition

At the time of its original release way back in 1978, Bob Marley’s Kaya was perceived by some – fairly or otherwise – as an attempt to elevate his commercial success in America, to that next logical level of wider, broader mainstream acceptance.

That came later anyway, of course. But what can now be understood in hindsight – despite the initial perception of some of those same critics – is that Kaya was no commercial sellout.

While it’s true that the breezier, more relaxed sounding songs on Kaya might have lacked some of the more direct political bite of its immediate predecessor Exodus, the songs themselves hold up remarkably well now, especially when viewed through the rear window of time.

Taken side by side, I’ll still take Exodus over Kaya in a minute. That’s just a matter of personal taste.

But you have to take issue with anyone who still holds to the view of Kaya being one of the lesser albums in Bob Marley’s overall canon. If anything, when taken together, the two albums form a much more complete picture of Bob Marley as an artist.

This isn’t surprising when you consider that both Exodus and Kaya were recorded at right about the same time. Still, when listening to the more laid back grooves of Kaya all these years later, its easy to see how Marley became as popular with the more conservative wine and cheese crowd – particularly in America – in the years following his death, as he was with the more politically radical activists during his short, but remarkable life.

One of Bob Marley’s greatest gifts as an artist was his ability to build bridges transcending these divergent cultural and ideological lines, and the songs on Kaya are a perfect reflection of that. In explaining the looser vibe of the album, Marley himself said “To sing about suffering all the time is not a deep thing. We want our people to live good.”

Or, perhaps to put it more succinctly, just fire up a big fat spliff, and relax ‘mon.

The 35th Anniversary Edition of Kaya – in stores and on iTunes next Tuesday – updates the original 1978 album nicely. I’m a little surprised the release missed this past weekend’s National Record Day by just a couple of days. But either way, it provides a perfect excuse to replace that old, weathered CD gathering dust in the closet.

The double disc CD version includes the original album, as well as a 23-page booklet with lyrics, photos, new liner notes, and the original B-side “Smile Jamaica” (recorded after the attempt on Marley’s life at the Smile Jamaica concert in 1976). An audiophile 180Gram virgin vinyl version will also be available on April 30.

The best known song from Kaya remains “Is This Love.” But there are several other lesser heard, but nonetheless great songs here, including gems like “Easy Skanking,” “Satisfy My Soul” and “Misty Morning,” that are equally worthy of a fresh listen.

The real treat for hardcore fans though, is the inclusion of a 1978 concert from Ahoy Hallen in Rotterdam, Netherlands. Originally intended for release with the live Babylon By Bus album, this great show features stellar performances of classic Bob Marley songs like “Jammin’,” “I Shot The Sheriff,” “No Woman, No Cry” and “War/No More Trouble.”

But it is the stunning, eleven minute version of “Exodus” here that sealed the deal for me. You may have to do some explaining to the neighbors afterwards. But if your speakers can take it, this one is best appreciated at maximum volume.

The mantle of “legend” is one that is often used loosely in the post-rock era. But the 35th Anniversary Edition of Kaya is a one of those rare, lovingly assembled tributes to an iconic artist who truly lived up to it.

*Article first published as Music Review: Bob Marley & The Wailers – Kaya: 35th Anniversary Deluxe Edition on Blogcritics.

Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective

Music Review: Duane Allman – Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective

Although he only made it to the ripe old age of 24, that was still plenty enough time for Duane Allman to carve out the sort of timeless, enduring musical legacy that most musicians three times his age could only dream of.

All of this is covered in great detail on Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective, an extensive, new career-spanning boxed set from Rounder Records. In telling his story over the course of its seven discs, Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective makes a convincing, nearly irrefutable case for Allman’s legend – and particularly for the stunning body of work he left behind.

Today, Duane Allman is of course best remembered as the founding guitarist (along with brother Gregg) of the Allman Brothers Band – the trailblazing, Georgia based blues/rock outfit who – with apologies to Lynyrd Skynyrd – more or less invented the southern rock genre. But what is slightly less known about Duane Allman, is the mind-boggling number of great records he played on outside of his much better known band.

As Jerry Wexler’s go-to session guitarist during the sixties and early seventies heyday of Atlantic Records, Duane Allman’s crisp, distinctive guitar work can be heard on classic sides by R&B greats Aretha Franklin (“The Weight”), Clarence Carter (“Light My Fire”), Wilson Pickett (“Hey Jude”), King Curtis (“Games People Play”) and dozens of others.

He also played second lead guitarist to no less than Eric Clapton, on the sessions for one of the greatest rock and roll records ever made – Derek And The Dominoes’ Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs. Allman’s guitar work is a cornerstone of that album’s celebrated title track. And while the slow burn of his guitar solo on the otherwise horn-fueled blues and soul of Boz Scaggs’ “Loan Me A Dime” may not be as well-known or remembered these days as “Layla,” it is still no less of a milestone.

With nearly two thirds of this vast boxed set devoted to those historic sessions – as well as others for such genre-crossing artists as Laura Nyro, Lulu, The Sweet Inspirations and the great jazz flute player Herbie Mann – Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective is as much an overall popular music history lesson, as it is an essential chronicle of the man himself.

Of course, Duane Allman’s work with the Allman Brothers is also represented nicely here. The hits are all there – from “Whipping Post,” “Midnight Rider,” “Statesboro Blues” and “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed,” all the way through to the latter, posthumous recordings like “No Way Out” and “Blue Sky” (which is represented here in both live and studio versions).

There are also a decent number of more rarely heard live recordings, including a stunning 17 minute “Dreams” with the Allman Brothers Band, as well as versions of “Sugar Magnolia” with the Grateful Dead, and the “Poor Elijah/Tribute to Robert Johnson” medley with Delaney & Bonnie and Friends.

Rarer still are his earliest, pre-Allman Brothers recordings. The entire first disc of Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective is devoted exclusively to Duane Allman’s work with these bands – including The Escorts, The Allman Joys, Hour Glass, The Bleus and 31st Of February. Recordings made around the same time as his session work with Atlantic – produced by Jerry Wexler for an unreleased Duane Allman solo project on the label – are also heard for the first time here.

Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective comes housed in your standard issue box, modestly illustrated to somewhat resemble a guitar case. Nothing too fancy, but still effective. The discs themselves come in thin paper sleeves, which would be my lone complaint about the packaging (note to label: paper tends to cause discs to scratch).

Extras include a Skydog bumper sticker and a Duane Allman guitar pick (nice touch), as well as a generous booklet with notes on every track, and liner notes from Duane’s daughter Galadrielle (who also served as a co-producer for the project).

Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective is in stores this Tuesday, March 19.

Photo Credit: John Gellman

*Article first published on Blogcritics.

Remembering Alvin Lee

As embarrassed as I am to admit it, Alvin Lee’s passing earlier this week caught me completely off-guard.

The truth is – even though the widespread press coverage of his death brought it all flashing back – I had nearly forgotten about him. What makes this all particularly sad, is that I suspect that a lot of other folks from my generation – the same people who grew up listening to Alvin’s work with Ten Years After, and who were as spellbound by it as I was – had much the same reaction.

“Oh, yeah…Alvin Lee. I remember him…hell of a guitar player.”

The thing is, that seemed to be how Alvin Lee actually wanted it. During their prime years as big-time rock stars from roughly 1969-1974, Ten Years After were one of the biggest rock bands in the world. And Alvin Lee’s reputation as a guitarist was the biggest reason why.

Those who really know and remember them, will also tell you that bassist Leo Lyons was every bit as incredible at his instrument, as TYA’s much more celebrated lead guitarist was at his. But Alvin Lee, well, he was the man.

Prior to their historic appearance at the 1969 Woodstock festival, Ten Years After enjoyed modest success as one of the many British bands mining the same blues-rock territory as pretty much everyone else out there.

They were just one more semi-popular band, doing the same post-Cream/Hendrix hybrid of hard rock, blues and psychedelia so prevalent at the time.

On albums like 1969′s Ssshh, Alvin Lee’s Ten Years After did the hard blues/rock thing as well as anybody else – from Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac, to Dave Edmunds’ Love Sculpture, to – for that matter – Jimmy Page’s then little known post-Yardbirds band, Led Zeppelin.

Yeah, those guys.

But from the moment of that stunning performance of “I’m Going Home” at Woodstock, Ten Years After broke wide open – and Alvin Lee’s name became forever etched into guitar hero legend.

The Woodstock movie was, of course, already full of incredible, star-making performances.

But outside of maybe Santana’s blazing “Soul Sacrifice,” Alvin Lee and Ten Years After were perhaps the least well known of all of those eventual breakouts. The Who, Jimi Hendrix and Sly and the Family Stone all delivered their own big-time, major, historical performances at Woodstock.

But these were also well-known, already established acts at the time. Ten Years After? Not so much.

A lot of the press coverage of Alvin Lee’s death this past week has centered on the catch phrase (then popular), about how he was once considered the “fastest guitar in the west.”

In all honesty, that rings like a bit of a cliche now. But at the time, it really was true.

Prior to that history making performance at Woodstock, Alvin Lee was just another flashy guitarist in a rock and roll universe already cluttered with plenty of them. But afterwards, and especially in any credible discussion or debate about just who was rock and roll’s greatest guitar player at the time – Alvin Lee’s name comes up right alongside those of Clapton, Page, Beck or Hendrix.

The most interesting thing about this, is how people – at least until this week – no longer remember that.

The thing is, this seems to have been by design on the part of Alvin Lee himself. By most insider accounts, Lee was never entirely comfortable with the “Rock Guitar God” status afforded him following Woodstock.

Some of the postmortem reports this week, have described Alvin Lee with the usual accolades that follow such a tragic loss like “perfect English gentleman,” and as being one of the nicest, most down-to-earth guys during a rock and roll era otherwise noted as much for its excesses, as it was for its music.

In fairness, early Ten Years After songs, like their cover of “Good Morning Little Schoolgirl,” certainly seem to run contrary to this revisionist choirboy description too.

But what does seem to be clear, is that Alvin Lee was never completely comfortable with his Guitar God status. The fact that he broke Ten Years After up at the height of their mid-seventies commercial success, likewise seems to back this up.

After signing a big-deal contract with Columbia Records following the Woodstock breakthrough, Ten Years After continued to sell out arenas for a few years. Lee’s status as a Rock Guitar hero also continued to grow stronger. Their Columbia Records debut, A Space In Time, became the band’s biggest hit, and remains a strong catalog seller to this day.

But subsequent albums like 1972′s Rock & Roll Music To The World also have more than their share of fine moments.

Outside of “I’m Going Home” though, Alvin Lee’s most remembered song is “I’d Love To Change The World.”

When comparing the two songs, the latter also best represents the contrast between what Lee was best known for at the time – the British Rock Guitar God – and how he really may have wanted to be remembered – as a more modestly appreciated songwriter.

It’s a great song to be sure.

So much so, that it has been co-opted in recent years by everyone from corporate software giants, to maverick filmmaker Micheal Moore, in order to hawk both their wares and their agendas.

The most curious thing about this – particularly from a political perspective – is that if you read into the lyrics of the song (“tax the rich, feed the poor, till’ there are rich no more”), the message could have just as easily been conscripted by FOX News types like Sean Hannity, as it was by Moore.

Either way, Alvin Lee did seem to accomplish his apparent mission of distancing himself from his then status as a Guitar Idol. You just didn’t hear that much from him in recent years.

Thankfully, in the sad event of his passing this week, he was remembered exactly as he should be.

Rest In Peace, Alvin.

*Article first published at Blogcritics.

Patti Smith Rocks Seattle With “The Only Weapon You’ll Ever Need”

Concert Review: Patti Smith at Neptune Theatre, Seattle, WA, 2/27/13

Though she has never quite reached the commercial level of playing to sold-out arenas and stadiums as a headliner on her own, Patti Smith’s status as one of the most truly iconic figures in rock and roll has never been in question.

Already recognized as a pioneering singer, poet, songwriter and author, Smith recently added actress to her resume, appearing as a recurring character on the procedural cop-drama Law & Order: Criminal Intent.

But performing this past Wednesday night at Seattle’s historic Neptune Theatre, the one-time reigning high priestess of punk-rock poetry showed that even at 66 years old, she has lost none of her passion or belief in the enduring power of her first love: rock and roll.

These days, Patti Smith’s image is far removed from the spiky-haired seventies punk-rocker that once inspired Gilda Radner’s dead-on parody (with her Candi Slice character) on the old Saturday Night Live. If anything, she looks more like your slightly more eccentric, hippie grandmother – with her long, flowing grey-streaked stresses – than the Keith Richards kid-sister sort of look she once wore so well.

Even so, Patti Smith – along with her great band, led by longtime guitarist Lenny Kaye – rocked the Neptune Wednesday night with all the fire and energy of someone more than half her age. Much as her fellow Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductees Neil Young and Bruce Springsteen did in their arena shows last fall, the 66 year-old Patti Smith seemed hellbent to prove that not only is rock not dead – neither is she.

The setlist featured newer tunes from her recent Banga album like the uncharacteristic (for Smith) pop-gem “April Fool,” but also drew generously from her classics Horses, Radio Ethiopia and Easter.

There was also a Nuggets medley from Kaye, who took over lead vocal duties from Smith for a quick round of psychedelic garage-rock covers from the Strangeloves, the Seeds, the Heartbreakers and the Blues Magoos. It was a frenetically played mini-set that was ripped straight from the grooves of the same great Nuggets anthology series Kaye once produced.

Patti Smith herself was as animated and engaging as I’ve ever seen her. Telling one of many humorous stories during the rarely played “Distant Fingers,” she managed to reference everything from her days playing at New York’s legendary CBGB’s with Television’s Tom Verlaine, to a plug for the cable TV series The Killing.

The set also included plenty of material more familiar to fans. There were spot-on versions of “Dancing Barefoot,” “Pissing In A River” and of course, her biggest hit “Because The Night.” Patti Smith also recently performed the latter during the MusiCares tribute to its co-author Bruce Springsteen during Grammy week.

But perhaps the biggest surprise of the two hour show came towards the end, when she dusted off “Land” – one of the two stream-of-consciousness centerpieces (the other being the rarely played “Birdland”), from her brilliant 1975 debut Horses. The band seemed to be teasing “Gloria” at first, before Smith soon shifted into that trance-like “other place” she so often does in concert. It was a stunning performance of this epic song, perfectly capped when the band shifted back into “Gloria” at the end.

“Rock And Roll Nigger” made its expected appearance in the encores. But this was a particularly charged version, which found Smith screaming “were all f**king niggers” at the end. For those of you wondering, in Patti Smith’s song, the “n-word” is not meant as a derogatory epithet, but rather as a term of empowerment.

As Patti Smith left the stage, she lifted up her guitar defiantly and said “for our generation, this is the only weapon you’ll ever need.”

Amen, sister.

Setlist:

1. April Fool
2. Redondo Beach
3. Distant Fingers
4. Ghost Dance
5. Fuji-san
6. Free Money
7. Dancing Barefoot
8. Beneath the Southern Cross
9. Night Time (The Strangeloves cover/Lenny Kaye on lead vocal)
10. (We Ain’t Got) Nothing Yet (Blues Magoos cover/Lenny Kaye on lead vocal)
11. Born to Lose (The Heartbreakers cover/Lenny Kaye on lead vocal)
12. Pushin’ Too Hard (The Seeds cover/Lenny Kaye on lead vocal)
13. We Three
14. Because the Night
15. Pissing in a River
16. Land
17. Gloria (Them cover)

Encore:
18. Banga
19. Babelogue
20. Rock ‘n’ Roll Nigger

*Article first published at Blogcritics.