This VW ad embodies everything that's wrong with adverts; it's twee, it makes no sense (Woofwagen??) and it features the worst song ever written. Never before have I felt such a strong urge to beat a singing man to death with his own guitar. Me and you, just bleeding from the brain / me and you in agonising pain.
2.
Here's my impression of a lazy advertising person: "Let's just use another soulless cover of a recognisable song *snort*." Speaking of cocaine, it's hard to miss the point of Kiss. Smirnoff, however, have managed to do so in spectacular fashion, with this hopelessly drippy cover of Crazy Crazy Crazy Crazy Crazy Crazy Crazy Crazy Nights; a song essentially about having crazy nights. Apparently advertising people's idea of a crazy night is sunsets and confetti. A crazy night with Kiss is more a case of: "How am I going to get home?"
3.
Using the most commercial rock band in the world to sell alcohol (or ALCOHAAAWWWWLLL as Paul Stanley would say) is one thing; exploiting '70s funk is another matter entirely. Funkadelic's I Got a Thing, You Got a Thing, Everybody's Got a Thing is about overcoming our differences to help one another; Levi's version is about selling jeans made in sweatshops. Everybody's got a thing, and my thing is a burning desire to kill those responsible for this ad-rock cover of a song I love.
There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is people with two first names.
You've seen them, hogging all the first names while some poor bastards (like Tempestt Bledsoe) don't even have one. Look at David Cameron. Go on, I dare you. He struts around with more than his fair share, while others have nothing. Right guys? But for once I'm not going to just whinge without offering a solution. I'm not Russell Brand. I'm proposing a Swap Shop style system, mercifully without the involvement of Noel Edmonds, who only has one first name but that's still one more than he deserves. Under my groovy new collectivist system, someone with two first names could trade with somebody in need. For example, David Cameron and Tempestt Bledsoe could swap. So she's Cameron Bledsoe (and we know Cameron can be a girl's name because of Cameron Diaz) and he's David Tempestt, making him infinitely more electable. My friend Harry Graham, the first name-hogging idiot, could swap with CNN host Wolf Blitzer. So he'd be Harry Wolf or Harry Blitzer (I'll ask him which he'd prefer). That would make the news anchor Graham Wolf or Graham Blitzer - both of which sound much more like the respectable name of a serious journalist, rather than a Power Ranger. And I know what you're thinking - what about Ron Howard and his brother, the actor Clint Howard? Why should they be punished? What if they want to keep the familial link of the Howard name? Well, I admire your support for the Howard family, but I've thought of that. The solution to the Howard Question, as it's known, lies between Channing Tatum and Stockard Channing. If Clint Howard trades with Channing Tatum, they can be Clint Channing and Howard Tatum, respectively. Then Ron Howard can swap with Stockard Channing, making them Howard Channing and Ron Stockard. Voila - Clint and Howard Channing keep their family connection, and Howard Tatum is a pretty good name for the Foxcatcher star. Everyone's happy - apart from Ron Stockard, but she can tell people it's short for Rhonda or whatever. Now, who has Wolf Blitzer's phone number?
There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is Spotify. If the Ohio Players had wanted a string of unlistenable adverts played after every two tracks of their Live1977 album, they'd have put them in - like Will.i.am or Jay-Z. Nothing ruins an album like a whiney Christmas advert or some prick telling me how much I need a phone that doubles as a hipster beard trimmer. Spotify will gleefully interrupt my '70s funk to play me some contemporary bullshit which it insists is incredible, despite the audible evidence to the contrary. Why not just turn down the volume? Because Spotify is very clever and pauses the adverts when you mute them - they know when you're not paying enough attention, like the telescreens in 1984. Why not just take out your headphones? Because then I don't know when the advert's finished and end up missing the first 15 seconds of Sweet Sticky Thing - it's easy to overestimate the length of the adverts, because when you hear them they seem to go on for ever.
An album is a piece of art - unless it's Jake Bugg, obviously. You wouldn't draw a McDonalds logo on a Turner painting, or try to sneak a PC World advert into a Jane Austen novel - "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a tablet that can replace your laptop." I understand that Spotify is a business and it's free to use, using the absence of adverts as a tantalising incentive to pay for a subscription. But the sheer frequency of the adverts, coupled with this unnecessary telescreen technology, suggests that Spotify doesn't really care about music - it cares about selling you expensive crap you don't need.
If this is in any doubt, look at this picture - Spotify have helpfully compiled a playlist of all your favourite songs from adverts. It's one thing to subtly use advertising to fund your passionate project, it's another to force adverts down our throats disguised as art. But the big question is - who listens to that?! Probably quite a lot of people, which is extremely depressing. The John Lewis advert that I've not seen but is definitely awful was released alongside a penguin toy that cost £95 - and sold out in under 24 hours. And as for that Sainsbury's advert - sticking a corporate logo on the end of a completely irrelevant film about World War I is all kinds of wrong. But I digress. If you're on Spotify, you can listen to loads of great stuff. You can listen to a Grateful Dead show from 1966, or Blind Melon's first two albums, or a Grateful Dead show from 1973, or James Brown Live at the Apollo, or a Grateful Dead show from 1982. But no. You're listening to the music off of adverts. I hope you have a terrible Christmas.
As you know, I love everything in the world, with the exception of three things. One of those things that I love is drum solos (of the 1950s). Foolishly extending my trilogy of blogs about drumming into a trilogy of four, here (in chronological order) are my top 5 drum solos of the 1950s. 1. Drum Boogie - Gene Krupa 1952
Gene Krupa was really the first super-star drummer, who brought the drums from their traditional time-keeping role and into the limelight as a solo instrument. This solo at the end of Drum Boogie, from 1952's Drum Battle at JATP, captures his extraordinary energy. It's his poor old snare I feel sorry for.
2. Buddy's Blues - Buddy Rich1955
Buddy Rich and Gene Krupa would famously play drum battles, but they were ultimately pointless because it was impossible to work out who had won. Together, they recorded the album Krupa & Rich in 1955, featuring this unbelievably fast solo from Rich. Buddy's Blues sounds like the work of a drummer with way more than 4 limbs.
3. Oscalypso - Art Blakey1957
From his 1957 album Drum Suite, Art Blakey's Oscalypso is an irresistibly elusive piece of music. Exotic rhythms combine with twanging guitars to create a strange and immersive atmosphere. The recording was originally intended as a run-through, but Blakey ended up using it on the record. And you can see why.
4. Drum-A-Mania - Jack Costanzo 1958
The great bongo player Jack Costanzo, AKA Mr. Bongo, is now 95 years old and cooler than anyone you know, young or old. He closes his 1958 album Latin Fever with Drum-A-Mania, a blistering two-minute bongo solo. And by blistering, I mean seriously, get that man some Savlon.
5. Take Five - The Dave Brubeck Quartet (Joe Morello) 1959
Take Five, from Dave Brubeck's 1959 album Time Out, is known for its fantastic 5/4 time signature, catchy piano hook and cool sax melody.Not only is it one of the greatest jazz pieces ever written, it features an unpredictably choppy drum solo from Joe Morello. I don't have a joke to end on. It's just a great song.
As you know, I love everything in the world, with the exception of three things. One of those things that I love is bands with (at least) two drummers.
To close my trilogy of totally ignored drumming blogs, I'm going to explain why all bands should have a minimum of two drummers, using 5 examples:
1. Rock n' Roll Stew - Traffic (Jim Capaldi, Roger Hawkins and Rebop Kwaku Baah) January 1973
Traffic tear the roof off the Winterland Arena by stirring three percussionists into Rock n' Roll Stew. That's three more drummers than The White Stripes.
2. Pretzel Logic - Steely Dan (Jeff Porcaro and Jim Hodder) May 1974
I included a Steely Dan performance from this London show on my top 5 drum solos of the 1970s, and this version of Pretzel Logic is so good it prompts Donald Fagen to admit: "I thought that was pretty well done myself."
3. Not Fade Away - Grateful Dead (Bill Kreutzmann and Mickey Hart) September 1975
This Grateful Dead show at Lindley Meadows is notorious because the entire band was particularly high. And this is the Dead we're talking about. To make matters more surreal, a woman in the audience was having a baby. Now that's a show to remember. Hopefully.
4. Use the Force - Jamiroquai (Derrick McKenzie and Sola Akingbola) September 1996
The infectious combination of Derrick McKenzie on drums and Sola Akingbola on percussion drives Jamiroquai's groovy Use the Force, which ought to be the theme tune to the upcoming Star Wars movie.
Talking of Star Wars, the soundtrack to the game Halo 2 features a 4-part odyssey from Incubus, which would be annoyingly pretentious were it not so amazing. Part 4 builds from its exotic percussive opening into Mike Einziger's storming guitar work. It's the perfect soundtrack to fighting aliens in space.
Hopefully that's a convincing list. If I ever see a band with any fewer than two drummers, there'll be hell to pay. In memory of the great Jack Bruce, who died on Saturday, I'll leave you with Cream's phenomenal 16-minute Spoonful. Cream only had one drummer, but it was Ginger Baker, which is like having hundreds.
As you know, I love everything in the world, with the exception of three things. One of those things that I love is drum solos (of the 1970s). The response to my last blog about my favourite drum solos of the 1960s was entirely non-existent. So here, in chronological order, are my top 5 drum solos of the 1970s! 1. Good Lovin' - Grateful Dead (Bill Kreutzmann and Mickey Hart) February 1970
Grateful Dead appeared in my top 10 drum solos of the 1960s, and it's safe to assume they'd also feature on my '80s and '90s lists if I could be bothered to write them. This version of Good Lovin', recorded at the Warehouse in New Orleans, includes a typically wild drum solo (duet?) from Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzmann. The Dead had just been busted for drugs and had to post bail, so this gig was held as a bust-fund benefit, which saw the band joined on stage by Fleetwood Mac's Peter Green. And what do we get in 2014? Kings of Leon joined on stage by Chris Martin. That's what.
2. Friday Night, August 14th - Funkadelic (Tiki Fulwood) July 1970
Speaking of drugs, Funkadelic's Friday Night, August 14th is an unbelievably cool slice of '70s funk that closes with a superbly (psuperbly?) psychadelic drum solo from Tiki Fulwood, from their awesomely titled 1970 album Free Your Mind... and Your Ass Will Follow. According to bandleader George Clinton, the album was an attempt to "see if we can cut a whole album while we're all tripping on acid." It turns out that they definitely could.
3. One Word - Mahavishnu Orchestra (Billy Cobham) March 1973
One of the world's greatest living drummers, Billy Cobham rose to prominence as drummer for Miles Davis and went on to redefine jazz drumming in John McLaughlin's Mahavishnu Orchestra. A particularly fine example of Cobham's fusion drumming comes at the end of One Word, from the classic album Birds of Fire. He still performs at the age of 70, just like your grandparents don't.
4. This All Too Mobile Home - Steely Dan (Jeff Porcaro and Jim Hodder) May 1974
No one combined jazz and rock quite like Steely Dan, and the rarely heard This All Too Mobile Home proved the perfect closing number for this London show. Each member of the band exit the stage one by one until just the two drummers remained, leaving Jeff Porcaro and Jim Hodder to end the show on an electrically energetic closing jam. "Sweet dreams my brothers, goodnight."
5. Fire - Ohio Players (James "Diamond" Williams)November 1974
Fire by the Ohio Players is one of my favourite funk songs, which I first heard on a That '70s Show CD but is also apparently the theme song to Gordon Ramsay's reality show Hell's Kitchen. That obviously spoils it a bit, but not enough to ruin Diamond's groovy percussion break, which intertwines with Sugarfoot's funky guitar and Merv, Pee Wee and Satch's cool horns. Oh yeah, they all had amazing names, huge afros and white capes. The '70s were unbelievably good.
As you know, I love everything in the world, with the exception of three things. One of those things that I love is drum solos (of the 1960s).
So here, in chronological order, are my top 10 drum solos of the 1960s:
1. Toad - Cream (Ginger Baker) December 1966
When the notoriously unpleasant Ginger Baker wasn't threatening his bandmate Jack Bruce with a knife or battling heroin addiction, he was thundering his way through solos with a pioneering use of two bass drums. Toad is one of the earliest recorded rock drum solos, a piece of musical history from the original supergroup.
2. Cold Sweat - James Brown (Clyde Stubblefield) July 1967
The 1960s saw the origins not only of hard rock, but also of funk. No single individual has greater claim to popularising funk music than James Brown, who in amongst his various noises shouts "Give the drummer some!" in the middle of the extremely funky Cold Sweat, to which drummer Clyde Stubblefield responds with a particularly groovy mini-solo.
3. My Generation - The Who (Keith Moon) September 1967
Keith Moon hated drum solos, once reportedly stopping mid-gig to yell "Drum solos are boring!" So this isn't actually a drum solo, but it's my blog so shut up. The Who were known for destroying their instruments on stage, and Keith Moon, another early adopter of the double kick drum, would load his kit with cherry bombs to make it blow up. For their performance on The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour, Moon used considerably more explosives than usual, resulting in an unforgettable climax to My Generation that caused a momentary break in transmission, singed Pete Townshend's hair and left Moon with shrapnel in his arm. So-called rock bands of today take note, this is how it's done.
4. Catfish Blues - The Jimi Hendrix Experience (Mitch Mitchell) October 1967
Recorded at the BBC, this unbelievably cool Jimi Hendrix cover of Robert Petway's Catfish Blues features a very nice drum solo by Mitch Mitchell. Admittedly I just wanted to include Mitch Mitchell, because his name is Mitch Mitchell.
5. Alligator - Grateful Dead (Bill Kreutzmann and Mickey Hart)January 1968
Is it still a solo if there are two drummers? That's one for the philosophers. All I know is how hard it is to pick a Grateful Dead drum solo from one of the travelling hippy troupe's 2,300 odd gigs. And I mean odd. But this Alligator drum break in Seattle is a prime example of Bill Kreutzmann's rhythms and Mickey Hart's percussion forming the centrepiece of a typically psychadelic jam. Not bad considering they were all higher than Snoop Dogg watching 2001: A Space Odyssey.
6. Channel One Suite - The Buddy Rich Big Band (Buddy Rich) July 1968 This has all been child's play up until now. No one played the drums with the sheer level of effortless talent as Buddy Rich, who brought popularity and personality to drumming while taking centre stage with impossibly tight jazz solos. One of the finest of these comes at the end of Mercy, Mercy's Channel One Suite, in which he double-handedly tears the roof off Caesars Palace. And he had a black belt in Karate.
7. Sex Machine - Sly and the Family Stone (Greg Errico) May 1969
Sly and The Family Stone's album Stand! is a perfect slice of '60s psychadelia, featuring the awesomely narcotic Sex Machine, which Greg Errico closes with a simple but dynamic drum solo. He'd later play with the likes of Santana and Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead, in a combination of rock and soul that demonstrates the way psychedelic music breaks musical boundaries and blurs them together, until they're very, very hazy.
8. Do What You Like - Blind Faith (Ginger Baker) August 1969
Ginger Baker's importance in rock drumming cannot be understated, so here he is again. Blind Faith's Do What You Like was written by Baker himself in the unusual 5/4 time signature, showing that not only could he drum, he could also compose. Like the angry Buddy Rich, only much angrier.
Woodstock 1969 is the stuff of musical legend, with a lineup that included the Grateful Dead, Sly Stone and of course Santana. Glastonbury-goers would have hated it, all those rock bands. The latin-rock giants became one of the festival's highlights, thanks to a blistering Soul Sacrifice drum solo by then 20-year-old drummer Mike Shrieve. If you were there, I hate you.
10. Moby Dick - Led Zeppelin (John Bonham) October 1969
Who better to bring us out of the '60s and into the '70s than Led Zeppelin, with their quintessential instrumental Moby Dick. It's hard rock at its purest, from the bluesy Jimmy Page riff to the junky cowbell beat, sandwiching John Bonham's classic drum solo which takes us rattling into the 1970s.
