This compilation is kind of a less gritty version of Live at Leeds, and it’s not live. I found myself in a very good frame of mind while listening to it, singing with the boys and best of all, moving. It’s a good length, and this even surprises me, it is another entry on the Ram list. Please don’t blame me for the title. I didn’t name the darn thing. As a young teen, I’m sure I found it titillating, if you’ll pardon the phrase, but now I just think it’s stupid, though I write this with a grin on my face.
The competition for attention between Pete Townshend, Roger Daltry and Keith Moon is legendary, and they were all masters at it, but when you just listen to the record, that tall quiet guy stage right, John Entwhistle, shines through on bass. This contains some old goodies like “The Kids Are Alright,” “My Generation,” “Pinball Wizard” and “Happy Jack.”
Obviously, another concert album. It could have made it to the Ram list, but there’s something lacking. I’ll say this for them though, what a great mix of some talented guys.
It was a short workout tonight. There’s a PBS special on the monarch butterfly, and it’s cold and it’s wet, and it’s April 30th! With all that’s been going on lately in the world, on large and small scales, and everything in between, I am thankful that I do have I place to live where I can complain about the crazy weather and watch a whole program on my favorite creature on this earth.
Due to the weather, I could not post after the workout last night because I lost all internet connection and had to post this entry the next morning.
Indeed, this is the same Bob Welch who appeared on the Fleetwood Mac album Penguin way back in the Fs. He left Fleetwood Mac for a solo career and this was his first release. I bought this album because I like “Sentimental Lady,” but actually like the version he did with Fleetwood Mac more than this one even though this has back-up by Christine McVie. I also liked the song “Ebony Eyes,” which may have something to do with the fact that I have dark eyes.
Welch’s career kind of fizzled out, which must have been a real kick in the shins for him as he watched Fleetwood Mac become a really great band, and one that reached the heights of popularity with his replacements, Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks. We just lost Bob Welch less than two years ago.
I’ve got nothing more to say about this record, the workout or any memory I might have. In fact, this is the first time I haven’t taken notes at all during the workout. And only four albums left.
This was a particular favorite of mine and my old friend Vicki’s, who was the new wave devotee, not I, but I discovered The Waitresses. The group was made up of four guys and two women, the bass player and the lead singer. All the songs were written by guitarist Chris Butler, who co-produced the album, and sung by Patty Donahue, whose near monotone voice oozed with sarcasm. If her voice was a layer of paint it would be a matted hue.
They single of the song they were probably known best for, “I Know What Boys Like” was released in 1980. It starts side two of this album, which was released in 1982, but was in no way the impetus for its purchase. I think I heard it somewhere, and then there was the theme song they sang to a show I really liked, Square Pegs, which introduced us to a very young, geeky Sarah Jessica Parker. Vicki and I done wore out “No Guilt,” a song of independence that had motivated me to rearrange the furniture each time after the ex and I broke up, which was a lot. The rest of side one was also very well played, and I recall it was pointed out by our friend who we had just lost four months before Vicki passed, that the song “It’s My Car” was reminiscent of Vicki’s sister. The Waitresses had another hit single later that year, but not from this album. “Christmas Wrapping” is still played every holiday season and holds up well. Unfortunately, this was a short-lived band and only released one other record. Even more unfortunate was Patty Donahue’s death of lung cancer at the age of 40.
The workout? Really good. Side one failed to disappoint once again after all this time, and I could sing along to most of the songs while having myself quite the energetic exercise routine. It’s an enjoyable album, a good album to exercise to, and has some fine memories attached to it. Yes, yet another addition to the Ram list, which is really building at the tail end of the project.
This goes back to my early independent exploration of music when just at 12 or 13 I discovered the Grass Roots, and takes me back to last November when we were still in the G’s. Three Dog Night was the next group I really got into. A pop-rock group featuring three singers harmonizing with a back-up band behind them, with one of the singers having a mustache, which as we recall would only add to the attraction, they were more of a cover band. None of the songs on this live album, which is not bad by the way, is written by anyone in the group. They were pretty good at it though, and had hits with Harry Nilsson’s “One,” “Easy To Be Hard,” from the Broadway show Hair, and my favorite, the great Laura Nyro’s “Eli’s Coming,” all of which I got to hear during this night’s workout.
At one point on the record, one of the singers answered the concert-goers in the back who were screaming out that they couldn’t hear, and another singer said, “See, you should have gotten the 5.50 tickets in the front.” Can I actually remember a time when the best seat, or best of anything, was $5.50?
We added a little Bette Midler again, not only because it’s a short album, but because I hadn’t exercised for two days. Sure, I had music on Thursday night as I cleaned up the place, which really needed it, for my Friday night company, and was motivated to move as I tidied. Then last night, I overindulged on things that are not conducive to anyone’s diet (we did have crudité), and now have to eat the leftovers, so I’ve had yet another set-back. But I love these little get-togethers, making the set-back very worthwhile. This was the first gathering we’ve had since my birthday in late November, and the first without my old pal Vicki in a long time. I would say that she was there in spirit, but I really hope she has more important things to do now. I will say that she was remembered and missed.
When the first song played I thought, Oh Lordy, does Alvin Lee never cease to get into that ticklish spot along the back of your neck and make you tingle all over. I was thrilled to think we’d hit a triple and all three of my Ten Years After albums would make it onto the Ram alternative list. But that soon fizzled and I didn’t even recognize any of the other songs, not even Alvin Lee’s version of Chuck Berry’s “Sweet Little Sixteen.” This album, although all songs were written by Lee, except for “Sweet Little Sixteen,” seems to have highlighted the talents of the other members of the band more than the other two albums, which was nice for them, I guess. We already mentioned bassist Leo Lyons, whose last name is actually Lyons, and who played up his moniker with a subtly obvious lion’s mane, slightly oversized mustache, and suede lion-tan jacket. He and Lee co-founded the band, Chick Churchill was keyboardist and Ric Lee (no relation) was the drummer. They were most popular in the late 1960s to early 70s, broke up, got back together, and had other people in the band. Alvin Lee played with them early into the millennium, passed away just last year, and the other three have been playing together until this past January, according to Wikipedia, when Lyons left.
The concert we went to at the Fillmore East was the summer after Woodstock, and after the movie version had been released. Ten Years After performed the frenzied and very sweaty “I’m Going Home” on screen for all of us who couldn’t be there to be mesmerized by (you can catch it on YouTube). It seemed to go on forever, and after the song Lee hoisted a large watermelon put on stage for him, onto his shoulder and carried it off. So cool. So hot. And vice versa. But we knew of Alvin Lee and Ten Years After before Woodstock because of this album, which was one of those purchased for one song. We are so not even going to discuss “Good Morning Little Schoolgirl,” which is not the song, but could have been, I’m ashamed to say, except to mention the fabulous Leo Lyons on bass. Immediately following that song on the flip side is the much more tender “If You Should Love Me,” which is the song that prompted me to buy this album and that introduced me and my friend to this electrifying group. It was much like how the song “Heighty Hi” introduced me to Lee Michaels and propelled me further into my own individualized appreciation for rock ‘n roll. And as you can imagine, with my tastes in music as I edged through high school when my friends were into the Grateful Dead and Pink Floyd, I was often alone in my opinions. I do recall sometime after high school, my friend Vicki’s old high school boyfriend telling me that I had been right about David Bowie all along, to which I hmmphed as I had already moved on. But getting back to this album, I can’t even put into words just how exhilarating the song “I Woke Up This Morning” is. I just type the name of the song and the music starts exploding and reverberating inside me. This means of course that Ssssh. is on the list.
Watt’s next
The only thing I remember about our second trip to the Fillmore East the summer before my friend moved to Miami, was that we were there to see the main act, and the main act only – Ten Years After. More specifically to see the group’s leader, Alvin Lee. Well, that and I remember that there was a mix-up in the tickets so when we got to the Fillmore we got a refund and standing room in the back. That was fine, no heads in front of us, clear view, but we were also subjected to a horny little usher named Caesar, pronounced as in Julius.
And I didn’t remember much about this album, nor what to expect, but as it turns out, it is a real good workout record with some mighty fine tunes, if you like that British bluesy rock sound with a psychedelic edge, which I guess I do. It’s made it to the Ram alternative list for its appropriate pace and for the mere thought of Alvin Lee, known for a fast guitar and the finest cheekbones this side of Willy DeVille. The song “Love Like a Man” – ooh, ooh, ooh, is all I have to say. That’s followed on side two by the ponderous “Circles,” which demonstrates how Lee’s many talents and appearance could overshadow his singing abilities, or lack thereof. I can forgive him now, particularly since he just passed away a year ago March, but I think back in the day I was less forgiving and more oblivious to his shortcomings and just thought everything he did was great.
Max has been a bit lethargic lately. I thought it might have something to do with this weekend’s selections. But then he threw up on the rug this evening, and has been running around like a maniac since. When he’s into it, Max hangs out with me throughout the workout until the chanting. Maybe I’ve said that before, but tonight he was real obvious about it. I think I actually saw him roll his eyes before he walked away. He did return for the stretching at the end.
Ssssh.
These seem to come in spurts, the albums that somehow made their way into my collection. This is very old, but the record itself is in remarkably good condition, probably because it was purchased for me long after its original release, and long after Shirley Temple was a child star. She was about my mother’s age actually and I’d never seen a Shirley Temple movie until much later in life, so I gather that my mother bought this album more for herself and used me as a shill. Whatever the reason, Shirley Temple was a movie icon of the 1930s, a talented little girl who could sing and dance and look like she was enjoying everything she did. In her adult life, she became a U.S. ambassador, and died just this past February at the age of 85. She seems to have been an extraordinarily popular child star, who couldn’t maintain her attraction as she got older and went on to pursue other options as a civil servant, as well as a wife and mother. She has my utmost respect, truly, but this too was a less than inspired workout. I had difficulty exercising to “On the Good Ship Lollipop” and “Animal Crackers in My Soup.” I promise from hereon in, what little we have left will be nothing but rock ‘n roll. And as for that fitness report I owe you, I still owe it.
1812 Festival Overture, Op. 49, Capricciio Italien, Antal Dorati, Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra, blah, blah, blah.
From the family collection. I really had to get into a zone for this. Though I’m not into classical music, I could recognize the Overture, and it being morning, I could look out my window at the goings-on around the Statue of Liberty while attempting to work out. My red helicopter flew by. On weekdays, I can see it from my office window, where I have a partial view of the East River and the downtown heliport, which boasts several helicopters of varying sizes and colors. My favorite it the larger, solid red one. It always cheers me, so I felt fortunate as I marched around my apartment to music I don’t really appreciate, that it came by to remind me of what I do appreciate. Then some guy starts talking on the album and I really didn’t care to hear what he had to say, so I flipped the record over to side two. And then being totally bored with side two, I decided to move on to the next record.
Swan Lake, The Ballet Theatre Orchestra conducted by Joseph Levine. 
I’m very sorry to say that this did not inspire the inner ballerina that is supposed to be within every girl. Perhaps I should have started with this one, as I might have been a little less ambivalent towards it, but 1812 comes before Swan no matter how you slice it, s0 the morning of exercise was completely lackadaisical. I think it’s a good excuse that these were not my records, but the next one is.
The Walrus Was Paul 