It's In Your Head: 5 Songs on Monsters
This week's songs are from Fela Kuti, George Stavis, The Cramps, Donovan, and Tokyo Police Club. Plus, an In Memoriam for Ace Frehley
RIP Ace Frehley
KISS was a bit of a joke when I came of musical age. “Rock & Roll All Night” was on Jock Rock vol. 2. They did the no-make up Unplugged. They were sweaty old guys. In costume they were the definition of empty spectacle and “sell outs” at a time when both were frowned upon by the bands all over MTV. Funny thing is, all of those bands actually loved KISS. Gen X musicians talk about KISS like the first time they saw Jaws or a boomer seeing the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. There was a defined before and after. But in my time they just were. Their Behind the Music I don’t recall being anything too scandalous. But in a pre-YouTube era, there was revealing early footage. Before the pyrotechnics, costumes, and stage design got too big, they were undeniably a powerhouse live band. I can’t be sure if this is the actual footage I remember seeing, but for the sake of the sound quality, and an incredible pair of solos from Frehley, below is KISS ripping “Deuce” on Midnight Special in 1975. If shredding isn’t your flavor, you can’t go wrong with Frehley’s cover of “New York Groove” from his 1978 solo album.
The long lead-up to Halloween continues.
Sort of like the Universal Studios’ Monsterverse, we’re going to take a broader approach this week, widen the lens beyond a single creature or monster in order to explore a broader range of musical styles.
Here are 5 songs with monsters, ghouls, and goblins.
“Music is the weapon of the future.” - Fela Kuti
Fela Kuti - “Zombie”
A scathing Afrobeat masterpiece mocking Nigerian soldiers as mindless “zombies” following orders under military rule — directly attacking soldiers, generals, and dictator Olusegun Obasanjo. It was banned on the radio as soon as it was released, but that only seemed to ignite its popularity among dissenting Nigerians. It’s now among his most well-known songs, and is defiant in its objection to complicity and complacency. In an attempt to silence him, the military raided Kuti’s compound, burn it to the ground, assault many of its residents, and threw his mother out a second floor window, resulting in her death. Kuti responded by delivering her casket to Obasanjo’s residence. How’s that for intestinal fortitude.
“Zombie” brings in the influence of James Brown and Funkadelic, and brandishes the Black Power politics he absorbed from his time in America. Notably, Kuti’s refraction of funk and jazz into Afrobeat would make its way back to the United States, when Brian Eno and the Talking Heads would incorporate elements of Afrobeat (and specifically Fela Kuti), first with “I Zimbra,” and then nearly all of Remain in Light. While Talking Heads would mainly lift the sound of the guitars and propulsive rhythm section, to me it’s the horns in “Zombie.” They’ve got a “Flight of the Bumblebee” freneticism, an inability to stay in one place, while the rhythm section drops in and out probably out of fatigue in trying to keep up with those horns.
note: the full version won’t integrate for some reason, so here is the 7-minute version:
“I wanted the music not to be a showcase of virtuosity, but rather an expression of emotional weight. I don’t want to be impressed by a musician; I want to be carried away to another place. If this is mysterious, I’m happy with the characterization.” - George Stavis
George Stavis - “Goblins”
George Stavis incorporates influences from Appalachian folk music, early rock and roll, and followed George Harrison into his love of Indian music, specifically Ali Akbar Khan. Apparently, his album Labyrinths is supposedly “the greatest banjo album ever made,” but it’s not available on Apple Music (but it’s on YouTube). I have no idea how “Goblins” got into my music library, but I’m glad it’s there. It uses the whole instrument, and never stays in one place for very long. It has my attention while I’m listening to it, but when it’s over, I’m in a different place than I was when it started. That’s the closest I’ve come to a definition of a “Great Song” I can think of.
“I mean, we’re playing the blues. That’s what real rock ‘n roll is. It comes out 9,000 different ways, whether it’s The Velvet Underground or The New York Dolls or Charlie Feathers — it’s still the blues.” - Lux Interior
The Cramps - “I Was a Teenage Werewolf”
As an inmate, Merle Haggard was in attendance for the recording of Cash’s Live at San Quentin in 1958, and was inspired to turn his life around, ultimately writing tender ballads like “Silver Wings” and “Sing Me Back Home. I can’t confirm whether or not any of the patients at Napa State Mental Hospital had similar epiphanies when the Cramps performed there in 1984. When you listen to the Cramps, you can hear their love for the same Sun Records legends that Merle Haggard and the Beatles adored—Elvis, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, Jerry Lee Lewis. It’s fascinating how two listeners can hear and love the same things, but walk away with strikingly different ways of carrying that sound forward. A few other examples: Brian Wilson and Joey Ramone were both disciples of Phil Spector and Brill Building pop music; Michael Bublé and Tom Waits’ share a deep appreciation for Frank Sinatra.
An interesting footnote to influences: The Cramps’ biggest influences were the horror films shown on Ghoulardi’s TV program. The character Ghoulardi was the creation of Ernie Anderson, father of Paul Thomas Anderson. Produced by Alex Chilton, “I Was a Teenage Werewolf” lifts its title from a 1957 film of the same name. The song leans more towards a Link Wray or Dick Dale surf-rock strut than the “slap-back echo”-coated rockabilly that the Cramps refashioned into “Psychobilly” by drenching it in horror imagery and camp. Sonically, all that’s really different from Million Dollar Quartet is a distortion pedal. Is it that smallest of twists on early rock and roll that has prevented The Cramps from getting their due? Who’s to say? But it doesn’t take much looking or listening to hear the B-52s, the Misfits, AFI, the 5-6-7-8s, can see John Waters or David Lynch movies. They were highly active in the CBGB scene, but are rarely mentioned among the cohort.
“There was a feeling, even then, that all was not perfect in the Garden of Eden. Dealers were moving into bohemia and hard drugs were on the fringes.” - Donovan
Donovan - “Season of the Witch”
Donovan was something of a Dylan copycat early on, but his sound got more playful, a little more psychedelic and ultimately turned into something of a Velvet Underground knock-off, here with “Season of the Witch.” Not everyone can be wholly original—but what Donovan does have is his own unique charm. Here it’s used to set an ominous tone. Donovan’s “Hurdy Gurdy Man,” was used to maximum effect in David Fincher’s Zodiac for what is one of the best opening sequences in recent memory. “Season of the Witch” casts a similarly dark, psychedelic tone, with a Led Zeppelin-like melody, song structure, and warning of bad things to come. Along with “Hurdy Gurdy Man,” it’s noticeably darker than much of Donovan’s other hits—"Jennifer Juniper,” “Mountain Song,” “Catch the Wind”.
“Nowhere is it written that a band has to live forever. I had long assumed that just because I wanted to be in a band so bad, and I got to be in a band, I should never relinquish it. The tail can start to wag the dog at a certain point. We don’t have to do a record where it’s a return to form and everyone pretends that it sounds like A Lesson in Crime, even though we’re, like, 45.” - Graham Wright
Tokyo Police Club - “Frankenstein”
As a white guy who was in his 20s in the late aughts, I have an affinity for what’s labeled as “indie rock”, but more specifically was skinny dudes with guitars making danceable rock music. A lot of it was pretty basic in retrospect. Most of the “mid” bands of that era couldn’t climb out of that niche into sustaining a career. But it being fixed in time as part of the soundtrack to what in hindsight seems like a care-free time, means I can’t just let it go. It’s part of the wiring; that’s how nostalgia works. That I have to give pretext as to why I kind of like Tokyo Police Club is pretty telling as to how I can’t entirely own or defend that position. But I expect their upswing on the carousel of cool will come back around at some point in the next decade or so, just in time for a reunion tour. Anyway…“Frankenstein” has a texture to it. The quiet-loud dynamic and cutting guitars; the fuzzed out bass owning the lower end; the harmonium. It’s got a sweep to it, like the song itself is the rose-colored glasses we use to look back into the past.
Thanks for reading. Enjoy listening.
Full playlists of songs featured in 5 Songs:
Blue Oyster Cult "Godzilla"