Manchester Musical Tour: This One Goes to 11

Part 1
"Oh Manchester, So much to answer for"
-Steven Patrick Morrissey

The journey begins on an Aer Lingus jet bound for Dublin. From there, it's a short hop to Manchester, home to so many of my favorite bands. I'm gearing up by watching -- for the I-don't-know-how-many'th- time "24 Hour Party People", the love letter to Anthony Wilson, Factory Records, Joy Division, the Happy Mondays and the city of Manchester itself.

Actually, the journey began in a suburban Pennsylvania bedroom some thirty years prior, with a stack of cassette tapes by the likes of The Smiths, New Order and later the Stone Roses and The Fall. Without knowing it, I've had a love affair with Manchester since I discovered the city's music. My expectations for my first visit were high, as were my fears it could never live up to the hype.

I didn't sleep on that flight to Dublin -- I don't sleep well on planes. And as I shuffled across the tarmac and up the stairs for the second leg of the trip, my anticipation only grew. I helped it along with a tailor-made soundtrack: Sitting on the plane before takeoff I played "Suffer Little Children" by the Smiths; when the engines fired up for takeoff it was "Crystal" by New Order.

The flight across the Irish Sea was a bumpy one, but as England came into view, I went for the obvious song: The Fall's "Hit the North". The green fields of Northwest England were accompanied by PJ Harvey's "Last Living Rose" and "England" (No, she's not from Manchester.) And as the skyline of Manchester against the backdrop of the Pennines unfolded below me, it was time to get serious: "The Reverend Black Grape" by Black Grape, the band I would be seeing the following night. But let's not get ahead of ourselves... I had only just arrived.

Part 2
"And on the Sixth Day, God created Manchester"

The sign greets you as you take your first steps out of Manchester Piccadilly station. It's clear this town thinks rather highly of itself. That Mancunian swagger likely contributed to the city being such a fertile breeding ground for rock and roll bands. After two plane rides, a train ride (for which I initially bought the wrong ticket) and no sleep, I had to dig deep for the energy to see for myself. My brother -- who arrived from the states two days prior -- met me and we were off. And for Neville and me -- in the musical equivalent of Disneyland -- our first thought was records.

We were staying near the Northern Quarter, a hip, artsy part of town that retains some grit and edge. One of our first stops was Vinyl Exchange, and things got weird really fast. As we pawed through used Fall records, we found a couple of things that caught our eyes. When we went to the counter, the guy told us - sotto voce - that most of the used Fall stuff actually came from Mark E Smith's personal collection. Smith died earlier this year, and his sister has been clearing out his house. The bloke behind the counter said that when she needs extra money, she sells them some of his old vinyl. Neville bought as much as he could, and I came away with a 45 of "C.R.E.E.P." and a great story to tell.

In the aftermath of that experience, I wondered whether the guy at the record shop was putting us on. Could those records really have once belonged to Mark E Smith?  The record shop guy seemed earnest, and he wasn't crowing about the MES connection, so we took him at his word. And he wasn't the only person that day that would leave us slack jawed.

A few minutes later -- in the vintage shopping emporium Afflecks -- we met a shop owner who used to work the door in the early days of the Hacienda. She confirmed that the nightclub -- which later put Manchester on the map -- was largely empty back then. It was beginning to feel like everyone we met had a connection to the music we were there to celebrate.


Part 3
"This is Manchester. We do things differently here"
-Tony Wilson

Mural of Tony Wilson in the Northern Quarter

Most cities honor their political leaders, maybe their titans of industry. Manchester does all of that, but it holds a special reverence for its creative thinkers. There is a mural of Tony Wilson, founder of Factory Records, on an electric substation in the Northern Quarter. A series of murals on the corner of Tib Street and Short Street commemorate Wilson and his Factory Records partners, as well as Mark E Smith. The words "I wanna be adored" hang from a building in the city centre. I have a lot of respect for a city that holds its musical heroes - my musical heroes - in such high esteem.

Affleck's -- the vintage emporium -- even had a Tony Wilson Wall. And it was painted to look like the Hacienda. Hashtag #WilsonWall.

We left the Northern Quarter and walked to the Central Library, in the heart of the city. In the library's music wing (yes, the library has a music wing, with instruments you can play. IN THE LIBRARY!) they were holding an exhibition called "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out: A Photographic Celebration of Manchester's Rock-music History." It features intimate photos of Joy Division, The Smiths, The Fall, The Stone Roses and Happy Mondays, among others. The library also hosts an excellent collection of books about music, with a special emphasis -- of course -- on the music of Manchester.

Three bookcases at the Central Library filled with books about Manchester music.

The Manchester Free Trade Hall

Not far from the library is the Free Trade Hall. In 1976, in front of a few dozen people, the Sex Pistols played their first show in Manchester. It was a small gig -- in an upstairs room -- but it would redefine music as we know it today. That's because among those forty or so people in the crowd were future members of the Fall, The Smiths, Durutti Column and Joy Division. The Pistols pointed the way; the youth of Manchester did the rest. As for the Free Trade Hall, it's now a fancy hotel.


Part 4
Twenty-Four Hour Party People

Manchester is a compact, walkable city. So the fact that we hadn't yet visited the site of the Hacienda was easily remedied by a ten-minute walk to the south. The Hacienda was formerly a yacht showroom, a cavernous place that failed to draw crowds in its early years. But by the late 1980s, the Hacienda was the world's most famous nightclub, home to rave and acid music, the Madchester scene and the birthplace of DJ culture. By the 1990s, drugs and gangs took over and the club was shut down. It's since been demolished and an apartment block stands in its place. If you haven't already done so, please watch the movie.

Above and below left: The Hacienda Apartments, where the Hacienda nightclub once stood.

Just across Whitworth Street from the Hacienda is Tony Wilson Place, yet another example of this city paying homage to its creative class. And on Tony Wilson Place is HOME, an arts and events space featuring a cinema, two restaurants and a shop. After browsing the shop and admiring greeting cards featuring caricatures of Shaun Ryder and Mark E Smith, we sat down for pizza. When the bill came, we started talking to the waiter about Tony Wilson. Once again, things got weird. The waiter, a lovely guy named Paul, told us he was in a band in the 1980s that had three EPs on Factory Records. His band, the Jazz Defektors, wasn't one we'd heard of, but he said he was friends with more famous Manchester musicians including A Certain Ratio and New Order. He even said had he known ahead of time we were coming, he could have gotten us autographed merchandised or -- gasp -- arranged a night out with New Order's Peter Hook or Stephen Morris. Once again, our jaws dropped. This was becoming a pattern. We exchanged contact information and hope to make it happen one day.

We finished the night with a trip to the pedestrian bridge over the Princess Road, made famous by Kevin Cummins' iconic photographs of Joy Division.

We took our own photos on the bridge. It was night and there was no snow and we didn't have the right lens and my leg is bent for no good reason.

Part 5
"I couldn't figure out whether he was from Salford or uhh Manchester."
-Mark E Smith

My second full day in Manchester began with a long walk to Salford, the traditionally working-class sister city across the River Irwell. I had the Fall's "Cheetham Hill" in my head as we crossed the river, but we weren't there for the Fall. We were there to find the Salford Lads Club, on Coronation Street, made famous by the Smiths on the inside photo of their 1986 album The Queen is Dead.

The Lads Club is an unassuming brick building at the end of a stretch of row houses, and -- as it was Friday -- it was closed. So we hung around for a bit until two other musical tourists showed up and helped us recreate the Smiths image. Here I am playing the role of Johnny Marr to Neville's Morrissey (and I'm conveniently wearing a Johnny Marr T-shirt.)

On the walk to Salford, we stopped by Fopp, a two-story shop selling books, CDs, DVDs and other fun stuff. They were having a sale on music books -- two for £10 -- so I got a book on Factory records and another on the Stone Roses. Score.

Part 6
"Oh Come All Ye Faithful
Joyful and Triumphant
Come Gather Round
As I blow my own trumpet"
-Shaun William Ryder

By 4pm it was dark and we were on a train to Liverpool. We were heading to the birthplace of the Beatles to see Shaun Ryder's Black Grape, the band he formed with Kermit of Ruthless Rap Assassins after the dissolution of Happy Mondays. We were taking the 40-minute train ride to Liverpool to see a proper Manchester band. Go figure.

Before we went to the O2 Academy, we tooled around Mathew Street, home of the Cavern Club (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) and countless Beatles cover bands. It felt like visiting a wax museum, and we didn't stay long.

Liverpool's Mathew Street, a Beatles theme park.

We did, however, find this plaque marking the site of Eric's, the nightclub where another Liverpool band -- Echo and the Bunnymen -- got their start:

And we found a shop called Resurrection that was selling pretty much every Stone Roses T-Shirt imaginable. As Nev put it, some people get matching tattoos on vacation... we got matching Stone Roses shirts.

We headed to the O2 Academy, but between a driving rain and an opening act that sounded like Limp Bizkit, I was feeling pretty dour. But out came Kermit and Shaun, and a wave of energy swept through the intimate venue. We had parked ourselves in the front, mere feet from Manchester royalty, with an unimpeded view of Ryder's every gesture, every utterance, and every wrinkle. The man has not aged well. Never mind, he sounded great.

And at the end of the show, I had a true rock and roll moment as the lead guitarist soloed right in front of me. I took a selfie that another fan later called "cheeky". Thanks to Sharon for the video!

After the show, I even got the guitar pick -- thrown into the crowd and scooped up by a bloke next to me who, upon hearing I had come from New York, gave it to me. What a nice gesture -- one of many random acts of kindness we witnessed in Northwest England. Well done, mates.


Part 7
"Don't walk away in silence, don't walk away"
-Ian Curtis

Saturday was our last day together in Manchester, so naturally we rented a car and headed off for the Southern Cemetery. Who doesn't? We were there to see the graves of two important Mancunians: the aforementioned Anthony Wilson and record producer Martin Hannett, who contributed mightily to the sound of Joy Division and a host of other Factory bands. Hannett's grave was easy enough to find, despite its lower profile.

Wilson's grave took awhile because it wasn't where we thought it would be. It was in a very prominent position in the center of the cemetery. I wanted to see myself in the tombstone.

Wilson's tombstone was designed by Peter Saville, the graphic artist behind most of the iconic Factory Record covers (including the New Order catalog). On it, Wilson is described as a broadcaster and cultural catalyst. As we paid our respects, we played Durutti Column's haunting and disjointed "In Memory of Anthony".

Here's the Durutti Column song "In Memory of Anthony" in its entirety:

Then it was onward to Macclesfield, where Joy Division's Ian Curtis was born, lived much of his life, and ultimately committed suicide. The rowhouse where he died is on a bleak stretch of Barton Street, but notice the green foothills of the Pennines off in the distance.

Ian Curtis's home in Macclesfield, left foreground

At the town cemetery, we struggled to find Curtis's gravestone. That's because it had been stolen. All that remains is a low-slung stone marked with his name and the words Love Will Tear Us Apart.

Behind it, fans have created a makeshift shrine of flowers, notes and photos.

It only seemed fitting to end our visit to Curtis's grave listening to Joy Division's "Atmosphere".

Part 8

"I think I did the right thing by slipping away, yeah

And the ache that's making me ache has gone for the day."

-Shaun William Ryder

The gloom of the cemetery tour didn't weigh us down for long. We wanted a taste of the countryside, so we left Macclesfield on a road that climbed into the Peak District, with sweeping views of fields of sheep. We were headed for Buxton, the highest market town in England with no musical connection, or so we thought.

Buxton, about an hour outside of Manchester near the Peak District

Buxton is nestled among the hills, with a lively shopping district. We had a look around, bought some trinkets and took a chance on a road leading out of town. It took us right past Vinyl Coda, a small record store and cafe with terrific stock. The shopowner -- a slight man named Neil McDonald -- was playing Grant Lee Buffalo, which seemed odd to hear in England. We struck up a conversation and he told us HIS band once opened for Grant Lee Buffalo in Sheffield. He had been the guitarist in Puressence, a 1990s outfit that was produced by Mani of Stone Roses had three LPs on Island Records. He had left the band and now Buxton was home. I felt good purchasing a copy of "Blue Monday" in its floppy disk packaging, as well as a Happy Mondays "Lazyitis" single with Scottish singer Karl Denver. If you're not familiar, this live video for "Lazyitis" pretty much sums it up -- a young Shaun Ryder, an aging Karl Denver and the inimitable Bez, dancing and shaking his maracas.

Yes, Lennon and McCartney got songwriting credit for the snippet that's based on "Ticket to Ride".

By the way, I snapped this picture of Bez's maracas mounted on the wall at another Manchester record shop, the Northern Quarter's Vinyl Revival.

Back in Manchester that night, I walked aimlessly through crowds of holiday revelers in the city's extensive Christmas Markets. Among the items for sale: Happy Mondays and Stone Roses onesies.

And in a town that takes its music seriously, even the Christmas market buskers had talent.

Part 10

"Some of the crowd are on the pitch

They think it's all over and it is now"

-Kenneth Wolstenholme, BBC

Later used by New Order in "World in Motion"

I made a detour off the music path to visit the National Football Museum. It was Derby Day in Manchester -- City v. United -- so it felt like the right thing to do. And thanks to a great project called Bands FC, music followed me there, too.

Bands FC combines band logos with the logos of football (soccer) teams. My favorites were Stone Roses FC and The Fall FC.

Upstairs in the museum, I found an automated puppet, inviting me to "have a laugh with the jolly goalie." So I did.

Part 11

"There is a light that never goes out"

-The Smiths

My last full day in Manchester was Sunday, Remembrance Day, on the 100th anniversary of the end of World War I. To say Britons took the occasion seriously is an understatement: Virtually everyone, young and old, were wearing poppy pins to commemorate the anniversary. The bells of Manchester Cathedral rang out to mark the armistice for what felt like an interminably long time. Here's just a bit of it:

Even the pub where I watched the Manchester Derby between City and United fell silent as "For the Fallen" was read over the TV screens. That really touched me, as it would never happen in the States. 

And that was the biggest takeaway from this trip. Set aside the bands, the music, the swagger -- people were genuinely kind to us and to each other. The people we met were easy to talk to, they went out of their way to help us, and yes -- it seemed everyone of a certain age had a connection to Factory or the Hacienda or to the music that we had come so far to celebrate. Manchester is a proud city, and rightly so: Proud of its history, its heritage, and most importantly its music. I know one day I'll get back, but for now, I'm better off knowing that such a place exists in this world.

Johnny Marr at the Stone Pony

Johnny Marr's latest effort Playland is a disappointment. There's no use in sugarcoating it. Marr, of course, is a legend -- an icon -- and nothing he does can damage his iconic status in the pantheon of musical greatness. His songwriting partnership with Morrissey yielded a bumper crop of timeless material. But his output as a solo artist is far more inconsistent -- many of his guitar licks feel less than innovative and his songwriting and lyrics just don't measure up. And nowhere has that been more evident than Friday night at the -- similarly iconic -- Stone Pony in Asbury Park, New Jersey.

I'll get back to Marr in a minute but first, about the Stone Pony. I had never seen a show there. It's not a large room and the stage is just a platform on one side. It's so unassuming that there are signs warning patrons not to put personal belongings on the stage, and that includes their drinks. There's also no backstage. There's a stage door that leads to the sidewalk outside and that's where the performers come in before going on stage. Also, the roadies and techs are all right there in a penned off area between that stage door and the stage itself.

We staked out a good location on the side along that pen. We had a clear shot of the stage door, and a very good view of the stage. So around 10pm, in came Marr's band followed by Marr himself. They started with the rather forgettable title track from the new record before launching into "Panic", the first of six Smiths songs. Again, I felt that watching Marr do Smiths songs was totally natural. Sure, he didn't sing on the originals or write the lyrics, but it's his music and seeing Marr do them is as close as we'll come to seeing the Smiths reunite. (It just won't happen.)

After "Panic" was "The Right Thing Right" from the last record -- which is one of Marr's better solo tracks, and the catchy albeit uninspired new single "Easy Money". The new stuff just felt soulless in comparison to the Smiths material, which still crackled after 30 years.

There were a couple of nice touches: He paired two songs about schooling "New Town Velocity" and "The Headmaster Ritual" and he again played Electronic's "Getting Away With It" -- calling it a song about his hometown of Manchester. He paid tribute to the Stone Pony itself by talking about how, growing up in England in the mid-'70s he would hear about it as Bruce Springsteen was coming up and said it was an honor to play on the same stage. And -- of course -- he finished his 15-song first set with "How Soon is Now?" which still sounds better than most anything else out there.

After a quick break, Marr and the band came back out for "Still Ill" - a Smiths song I hadn't previously heard him do - as well as "I Fought the Law" and the show closer "There is a Light That Never Goes Out" which he dedicated to Bruce Springsteen (and everyone in the crowd.)

Overall, it was an enjoyable show. But I came away with the distinct feeling that the Smiths were such a good band that nothing Marr does now can come close to his former greatness. And I was left with a tinge of wistfulness for the Smiths reunion that will never happen.

New Tune on Monday

Ok, these songs might not necessarily be new tunes, but they are new releases.  Matthew Sweet & Suzanna Hoffs have released their Under the Covers Vol. 3.  Their first attempt was fair, but by volume 3, they butcher some of the sacred artists of the Discordants.  XTC,  Roxy Music, and The Beat, are just a few of the bands that are poorly covered here. The real punishment comes in the shape of both the Smiths "How Soon is Now?" and Echo & the Bunnymen's "Killing Moon."  Such a shame for 100% Fun by Matthew Sweet still holds up so well.  I also enjoy a little Ming Tea.

Enjoy your poison. Under the Covers Vol. 3

Johnny Marr at Irving Plaza

It was probably two songs into Johnny Marr's set last night at Irving Plaza that I realized I had died and gone to heaven. I was hearing "Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before" -- a Smiths song being played by a Smith.

"Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before" is one of the strongest songs off the Smiths last studio record Strangeways Here We Come. But I associate it very closely with Morrissey, perhaps because the video features the Moz and a bunch of lookalikes riding bikes around Manchester. Last night -- at least for me -- it became a Johnny Marr song.

The Smiths aren't coming back. There won't be a reunion -- the personalities are too strong, the divisions too deep. So that leaves the 40-something Smiths fan with two choices: Morrissey or Marr. Whose stamp is more important on the Smiths? Obviously, they were equally important. But would you rather hear Morrissey sing with a backing band that can't handle the sublime guitar parts that made the Smiths shine? Or would you rather go straight to the source, and see Johnny Marr?

For me the answer was easy. And my incredibly high expectations were more than met at last night's show. Marr's guitar work, of course, was as fantastic as ever -- even better than the studio albums would lead you to believe. And as a frontman, he's surprisingly good, with a genuine, rock star cool that doesn't come off as affected or cheesy. He kicked off with "The Right Stuff Right" and played a lot of his new solo album The Messenger, culminating in my song of the year so far, "New Town Velocity".

But it was the Smiths tracks -- "Stop Me", "Bigmouth Strikes Again", "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out", "London" and, of course, "How Soon is Now?" -- that really got the crowd going.

Marr handled the Smiths songs very well. His voice doesn't have the character of Morrissey's -- for better or worse -- but he sung them well. And therein lies the inherent conundrum in all of this: What does Marr think when he sings Morrissey's words? He didn't tip his cap to his erstwhile partner the whole night, which, considering how nice a guy he seems to be, was, at least to me, a surprise. But then again, it's Marr's music, so he has every right to take ownership of it. And I'm sure Morrissey's not thinking about Marr when his band plays Marr's music.



Anyway, the set had a few surprises: A cover of the Crickets' "I Fought the Law" (played faithfully to the Clash version) and two Electronic songs -- "Forbidden City" and a terrific guitar version of "Getting Away With It."

The show also surprised me culturally. Sure, the crowd was largely older -- lots of guys in their 40s, many with thinning hair. But there was a good crop of younger kids, too, and it's good to see them turn out for a guy who has influenced so much indie music over the past 20 years. One side note: there was an older Miami Vice looking guy and his equally older girlfriend or wife standing near me and I overheard them talking before the show about how no one in the crowd "listened to [The Smiths] the way we did" and that the "kids" in the crowd can't possibly be true fans like them. And then to prove they were the assholes I suspected them to be, the guy got into a shoving match with someone as the show got underway. Nice.

Another Smiths Homage... to T. Rex

Here's another obvious Smiths touchstone: T. Rex. You'll hear the homage instantly in The Smiths' "Panic", which lifts its chord structure straight from T. Rex's "Metal Guru."

Here's "Panic":

And here's "Metal Guru":

Morrissey and Johnny Marr were huge T. Rex fans dating back to the early 1970s.And as they say, imitation is the greatest form of flattery.

Elvis and The Smiths

It's no secret that The King of Rock influenced Johnny Marr's compositions with The Smiths. Perhaps the most blatant example of Presley's influence can be heard on The Smiths track "Rusholme Ruffians" -- as Tony Fletcher writes, it "displayed such an obvious doff of the cap to Elvis Presley's "(Marie's the Name) His Latest Flame".

Hear it for yourself.
Here's "Rusholme Ruffians":

And here's Presley's "His Latest Flame":

A Light That Never Goes Out, Take 2

Here's another fun nugget from "A Light That Never Goes Out", Tony Fletcher's book about the Smiths.

In 1983, as Johnny Marr and producer John Porter (the bassist from Roxy Music) worked out the track that was to become "How Soon Is Now?", dance music was all the rage. Hip-hop was taking off, The Smiths had toured in clubs like Danceteria in New York, and their American record label even released 12" dance remixes of Smiths songs, as was the order of the day. Fletcher writes about the production of the track -- at the time just called "Swamp" -- and what was to be Marr's final instrumental flourish before Morrissey was called in to add lyrics:

"The final instrumental touch was Marr's relatively simple melody -- the high notes heard at the end of each 'verse' -- which he played using the electric guitar's natural harmonics. An almost precise replica of the synthesized vibraphone sound heard loudly on Lovebug Starski's 1983 12" "You've Gotta Believe," this was Marr's not to Starski as both a distant hip-hop influence and an immediate welcoming presence when the Smiths appeared at Danceteria. Such subtle notations were his way of countering the Smiths' public perception as '60s revivalists and rock purists."

Listen for yourself. Here's Lovebug Starski's "You've Gotta Believe" -- and the notes Marr borrowed for what was to become "How Soon is Now" will be very obvious:

And here's "How Soon is Now?":

A Light That Never Goes Out, Take 1

I just finished reading Tony Fletcher's amazing new book A Light That Never Goes Out: The Enduring Saga of The Smiths. Despite its more than 600 pages, it's a fast read, yet informative and well researched. And it's not a song-by-song analysis of the Smiths catalog (although there's plenty of that) but rather places the band in their cultural, social and political context in 1980s Britain. I highly recommend it.

In any case, now that I've completed the book, I'm going back over the pages I dog-eared for further research. I like to hear the influences Fletcher writes about and I'm spending a lot of time on YouTube following up on his writing. And I'll no doubt have more of these types of posts in the near future.

Today I start with the story of when Britain's Conservative Prime Minister David Cameron referred to himself as a Smiths fan -- something both Marr and Morrissey -- in a rare moment of post-breakup solidarity -- forbade him from doing. And then something even more peculiar happened: This exchange between Cameron and a Labour M.P. over who could name more Smiths songs:

Don't you wish we had something like Prime Minister's Question Time in this country?

The Roots of a Riff

It's one of the most famous guitar riffs in music -- Johnny Marr's tremolo-laden riff in The Smiths' "How Soon is Now".

When we first heard it in 1985, it sounded like nothing else out there. It still sounds totally unique, despite being covered and sampled over the years. The other day, I was tooling around YouTube and found an interview in which a Rickenbacker-toting Johnny Marr cites the reference points for the riff -- Hamilton Bohannon's Disco Stomp, Bo Diddley and Can. It's around 2 minutes in on this clip:

So let's go back in time and listen to the influences Marr cites. First, here's Hamilton Bohannon's "Disco Stomp":

Here's Bo Diddley's "Hey Mona":

And finally, Can's "I Want More":

The influence of all three is clear, but Marr's riff is hardly derivative. And when you look at The Smiths through this prism, you really can hear the funk influences in the band, despite its otherwise white-bread appearance.

By the way, I feel like I should explain why I'm devoting so many posts to things relating to Johnny Marr. First, I'm listening to his solo album The Messenger a lot. Second, I'm reading Tony Fletcher's terrific book about The Smiths, A Light That Never Goes Out. I'm more than 100 pages in and the band hasn't even formed yet -- Fletcher spends generous amounts of time on the cultural mores of Manchester in the 1970s as both Marr and Morrissey come of age. It's an excellent read.

Johnny On the Spot

I've made it clear that I'm a huge fan of Johnny Marr. He's the most inventive guitarist of his generation -- and you'd be hard-pressed to find a better technical player in any generation. I even nod my head in agreement when I read quotes from Marr saying The Smiths "invented indie as we know it." Why, yes... yes you did. Who am I to argue?


So imagine my excitement upon hearing that Marr's debut solo album "The Messenger" is due out next month. Excitement and trepidation. After all, Marr was the brains behind The Smiths -- the wizard behind the velvet curtain. He was a hired gun for both The Cribs and Modest Mouse, though his arranging and songwriting skills were clearly in evidence on tracks like "We Share the Same Skies" and "Dashboard". But I don't know what to expect when Marr is both the brains AND the face -- After all, I never really got into the Healers -- the last project where he was the top dog. So what are we in for with "The Messenger"?

Last month, we heard the upbeat album cut "The Right Thing Right" -- which kicks off with some very trademark Marr guitar-work -- those slides against that strum -- before pumping up the energy. And you can distinctly hear parts of the song that directly relate back to Marr in The Smiths: At :56 I'm reminded of "Oscillate Wildly" and the chords are reminiscent of a song in the Marr catalog that I just can't place. But
I love that about Marr's work -- no matter how it changes, it's grounded in something so elemental.

Now, thanks to NME, we have the first single -- "The Upstarts" -- and it's a perfectly good song, but not a great one. Like any Marr song, you know it's him -- the guitars give that away -- especially during the bridges. Johnny's vocals are warmer and more melodic than I would have expected. But for whatever reason the song doesn't draw me in with a unique riff or hook. I'm happy enough to hear it, but not happy enough to love it.

So the bottom line? I'm undecided. Undecided at whether I'll like what I hear after giving it a few more plays. I'm not undecided about buying the record. The release date is late February, and I'll be there.

By the way, how did I miss Johnny Marr appearing onstage last month in New York with Dinosaur Jr. covering "The Boy With the Thorn in His Side"?? Watch:

UPDATE: After listening to the new Johnny Marr songs all weekend, I'm officially on board. "Upstarts" is a great tune, catchy and melodic. I'm very much looking forward to the new record.

Three For The Road - The Smiths

I enjoyed today's balmy weather by taking the day off. I'm owed a lot of time at work after what has been a busy year, and it was just luck of the draw that I took off on a December day when temperatures reached the 60s. In any case, I was driving by the local high school during their lunch hour -- this was not planned, I'm not one of those pathetic losers -- windows down and "How Soon is Now" playing loudly in my sensible family station wagon. And that little anecdote leads to my Three for the Road, Smiths edition:

1) "Hand in Glove" - It fades up on Marr's guitar riffs and then that harmonica kicks in and it's gold. Johnny Marr at his finest.

2) "Half a Person" - "Sixteen clumsy and shy" pretty much sums up the Smiths for me.

3) "The Headmaster Ritual" - A song after your own heart -- about public education.

Oh well...

Johnny Marr and Mike Joyce both deny the rumor that lit up the internet last week of a Smiths reunion. I can't imagine anyone in their right mind actually believed the rumor in the first place, although there's a little piece of every Smiths fan that holds out hope for the impossible to one day happen. Call it a light that never goes out.

Anyway, it's not happening. Marr says he's got "things to do." Here's the link:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2012/apr/26/johnny-marr-quashes-smiths-talk

Song In My Head

"Accept Yourself" by The Smiths.
My two-year-old son swiped my iPod and somehow hit the right buttons to make this one play. Then when I asked him for my iPod back, he said 'no' and hid in his sister's closet. Should I be worried?

Anyway, this is the live version from Manchester's famed Hacienda nightclub from July 6, 1983.

Three Of My Favorite Things

Honestly, this is all coincidental. First I found the new Fender Johnny Marr guitar, then I see Johnny Marr in a skit on "Portlandia", then my brother sends me the Mario Brothers version of "This Charming Man."

And now this. The Amoeba Records "What's In My Bag" series of videos. Each video features another celebrity shopper talking about what they're about to buy at Amoeba. I stumbled upon it today when I found Johnny Marr's "What's In My Bag.". It's no secret how much I love Amoeba -- I've even done a version of my own Amoeba list right here. Marr's buying some Ennio Morricone records and a few documentaries -- including about one about Ralph Waldo Emerson he doesn't think will be any good. (Sure enough, the little clip they play of the documentary proves him right.)

And then... yet another coincidence. Johnny's buying a Wire CD. And I was just reading an article in The New Yorker about a 15-year-old girl in Vancouver who adores Wire and made a bunch of videos for Wire songs. She's even reached out -- admittedly annoyingly so -- to Colin Newman, who basically told her to f--- off. Sad, but funny.

So Johnny Marr to Amoeba to Wire... Three of my favorite things.

Smiths, Super Mario Style

Check out this nifty version of "This Charming Man" by the Smiths done in Super Mario Brothers style. It's actually quite good, and much more elaborate than I would have thought. (H/T to Nev on this one.)

http://soundcloud.com/lazyitis-1/super-morrissey-bros

By the way, here's another nice version of the song -- it's Johnny Marr demonstrating the layering technique he used to write it.

Why I Hate Tribute Bands

"I know it's over - still I cling/I don't know where else I can go..."

I appreciate what a band like The Sons and Heirs is trying to do. They want to bring back the experience of seeing something no one will ever see again -- a Smiths concert. Fine. But that's life. I missed my chance to see them live. I regret that, but The Sons and Heirs isn't the solution. Their act is so forced, so tortured and honestly, so dreadful. The beauty of the Smiths was that they were unlike anyone else. They were utterly creative -- a tense marriage of the genius guitar work of Johnny Marr and the literary wit of Morrissey -- and they were unlike anyone else. A tribute band is just like someone else. And that's why a Smiths tribute band (or any tribute band) just doesn't work. As Joe Strummer sang: "Phony Beatlemania has bitten the dust." Amen.

REM calls it quits

After reading the little article about the demise of REM, I was moved to write a response.  REM seems to be a bad that will forever be overlooked for their importance of creatign alternative radio, and allowing so many other bands to find a little spotlight in the mainstream, get noticed, and hit pay dirt. 

No, they weren’t as cutting edge as New Order, Echo & the Bunnymen, the Smiths or the Cure, but they were the band that made me open that cellar door to check out what is on the other side of what I knew of as “classic rock & roll.”  The had a “sound.”  Not quite like anything else you would hear on staple FM channels, but accessible, yet quirky.  For me, it comes from Peter Buck's 12 string sound.  Songs like "South Central Rain," “Don’t go Back to Rockville,” “Superman,” and “Fall on Me” carry that sound that attracted me to them.

The group, sans Stipe most of the time, showed how tight they as a band with the highly underrated Hindu Love Gods project they tackled with Warren Zevon.; talking on blues favorites, and Prince. 

MTV & music videos helped the general public become aware of who this little Southern band was.  “The One I “Love” and “The End of The World” were somewhat in rotation on MTV, and gave them that initial radio play.  Then came “Losing My Religion,” and the whole thing blew up.

In this time, of immense popularity, REM was able to show many sides as a multi-dimensional band.  A silly song like “Stand” or “Shiny Happy People” evokes the B-52’s (and yes, I know Kate Pearson was on the latter.)  “Drive” has an eerie Pink Floyd feel, and “Orange Crush” lends a heavy rock sound. 

Much like Dylan when he “plugged in” I felt REM did the same (I know a stretch of a comparison) when they came out with the Monster album, and “What’s the Frequency Kenneth?”  Many fans turned away.  The band lost the sound that made them special - that rhythm section, and went a bit glam with “"Bang and Blame", & "Crush with Eyeliner."  I felt this was also a visible change in the band with Michael Stipe shaving his head, and Mike Mills wearing rhinestone suits. 

With the loss of drummer and contributing songwriter Bill Berry in the later 90’s, the band seemed somewhat lost and faded a bit into obscurity.  They would still put out a decent song once in a while, like “Leaving New York” but their star had obviously faded. 

Amazingly, they and U2 were the two bands that went head to toe as the leaders of the alternative movement to mainstream, yet, only one will be remembered as legendary. 

Song(s) In My Head

It's a double-shot today. That's because they're essentially the same song:

Bryan Ferry's "The Right Stuff" from 1987's Bete Noire and "Money Changes Everything" by the Smiths.

Johnny Marr wrote "The Right Stuff" with Ferry based on the instrumental B-Side "Money Changes Everything." Look for Marr in the video -- he looks like he's about 12 years old. By the way, by my calculations, Ferry was 41 when Bete Noire came out.

Bryan Ferry, incidentally, is touring America. He'll be at the Wellmont Theatre in Montclair, NJ on October 4.