Tag Archives: Tuneage

A twofer MPC

I have a version of “Honky Tonk Women” performed by Prince on my iPod and hoped I could find the clip on YouTube to share yesterday.  Alas, no such luck.  Fortunately, it turned up on my Twitter feed this morning, so you lucky ducks get to hear it after all.  Enjoy.

Bad.  Ass.

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UPDATE:  ZZ Top’s Billy Gibbons on Prince’s guitar playing?  Yeah, you might want to read that.

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Musical palate cleanser, U 2? edition

Man, the first four months of 2016 have been a total bummer.

Prince, the songwriter, singer, producer, one-man studio band and consummate showman, died on Thursday at his home, Paisley Park, in Chanhassen, Minn. He was 57.

You know you’re somebody when the New York Times refers to you by one name.

The obituary is astounding to read – “prolific” and “virtuoso” are words that we see tossed out all the time undeservedly, but in this case barely do the man justice.

Then, there’s this.

Prince was responsible for so much great music, I hardly know where to begin, but even if I did, there’s not exactly a lot of material on YouTube to reference, given his largely successful effort to control his work product (and good for him in that regard).

Start with this, though, for an indication of how underrated he was as a guitarist.

The first 3:25 is a slow buildup to what comes, and when it does, wow.

For more of the same, here’s his “press conference” before his appearance at the Superbowl.  So, yeah, he could rock a little.

I’ve about worn my copy of 1999 out.  It’s the album – and the video image – I’ll always remember him by.

Parties weren’t meant to last, indeed.  Shit.

There’s a bunch more here.  (In particular, make sure to play the remarkable “I Could Never Take The Place Of Your Man”.)

I can’t really do this justice.  Just go listen, okay?

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UPDATE:

 

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Musical palate cleanser, get your girl in the mood quicker edition

In honor of Kirby Smart’s musical taste, enjoy Ice Cube celebrating the joys of St. Ides malt liquor.

Yo.

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Musical palate cleanser, you don’t have to call me Merle Haggard…

any more.

Merle Haggard, one of the most successful singers in the history of country music, a contrarian populist whose songs about his scuffling early life and his time in prison made him the closest thing that the genre had to a real-life outlaw hero, died at his ranch in Northern California on Wednesday, his 79th birthday.

His death was confirmed by his agent, Lance Roberts. Mr. Haggard had recently canceled several concerts, saying he had double pneumonia.

Few country artists have been as popular and widely admired as Mr. Haggard, a ruggedly handsome performer who strode onto a stage, guitar in hand, as a poet of the common man.

Pretty much your basic American icon there.

As the Times notes, Haggard’s got a ridiculous legacy of songs and hits, something he makes a little fun of in this clip of one of my favorite songs of his…

If you’re not that familiar with his body of work, and you figure there’s a little more to the man than “Okie From Muskogee”, you can start here.  But be warned – you’ll just be scratching the surface.  You might also want to take the time to read this interview in Garden and Gun, which is the last piece I saw with Haggard.

************************************************************************* UPDATE:  Just saw this and had to share.

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Musical palate cleanser, Doin’ a hundred-twenty man edition

“Well all Chuck’s children are out there playing his licks”

— Bob Seger, “Rock and Roll Never Forgets”

If there’s ever a song where a man lived up to his own words, it’s “Get Out of Denver”, the opener to the criminally underrated Seven, Seger’s great 1974 record.  Listen and see if it doesn’t get your butt shaking this morning.

There’s not a wasted note on there.  Best Chuck Berry takeoff ever.

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Musical palate cleanser, it’s only by accident edition

Tift Merritt’s name popped up on my Twitter feed this weekend.  If you haven’t heard her before, here’s “Trouble Over Me”, the opening track from her 2002 release, Bramble Rose.

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Musical palate cleanser, the world keeps getting older edition

Sigh.

George Martin, the urbane English record producer who signed the Beatles to a recording contract on the small Parlophone label after every other British record company had turned them down, and who guided them in their transformation from a regional dance band into the most inventive, influential and studio-savvy rock group of the 1960s, died on Tuesday. He was 90.

“We can confirm that Sir George Martin passed away peacefully at home yesterday evening,” Adam Sharp, a founder of CA Management, a British company that represented Mr. Martin, said on Wednesday in an email. Mr. Sharp did not say how Mr. Martin had died.

“God bless George Martin,” Ringo Starr, the former Beatle, wrote on Twitter.

Mr. Martin helped redefine a record producer’s role in pop music. He was one of a handful of pop producers — Phil Spector and Quincy Jones among them — to become almost as famous as the musicians they recorded. And when he left Parlophone, a subsidiary of EMI Records, to start his own production company in 1965, his reputation as the producer of the Beatles helped raise the stature of record production as an independent career, rather than a record label function.

Man, what a career!

As a tribute, from Rubber Soul, here’s “In My Life”.  Martin contributed the instrumental bridge.

 

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