Saturday, January 30, 2010

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Yardbirds. Happenings Ten Years Time Ago. 1967.

Yardbirds featuring Jimmy Page on lead axe. Pretty funky little ditty widely considered the UK psychedelic classic. I'm gonna listen to it again.

Hey, Baby / The Land of The New Rising Sun - Jimi Hendrix, 1970.

Hendrix's last gig on American soil (just barely) took place on a freaking volcano. Not going to shit on this masterpiece with fucking metaphors.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Ten Years After. I Can't Keep From Crying. 1970

It all went down when Alvin Lee chest bumped the devil at some dank pub in the outskirts of a Mansfield industrial park. He then proceeded to drink the horned beast silly. Schooling him at snooker and stealing his gal.

As punishment, Lee's been trapped forever in a vortex of mind-shredding jams. A four walled world of facemelting. A fortress of high fidelity and enslaved auditory detainees.

Welcome to Hell Mr. Lee. It sounds pretty fucking good.

Terry Reid. Rich Kid Blues. 1969.

Perhaps the dumbest business decision in the history of Rock and Roll, Terry Reid was the guy that turned down Jimmy Page's offer to front Led Zeppelin. He did however recommend the blonde baubled blues howler, Robert Plant. That recommendation alone will likely ensure him a shrine in the Facemelter Hall of Riffage. It doesn't hurt that he's a kick-dick vocalist in his own right.

Good footage of this dude on top of his game is hard to come by, and because he was tainted by the horrific production and management of Mickie Most (the only guy in the world that can make Jeff Beck sound muddy), his album output leaves a lot to be desired as well.

There are certainly gems out there, like Superlung, The River and Seeds of Memory. Pick up those jams and you'll get so hard you'll need to move up a pant size.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Blood Rock. Lucky in the Morning. 1971.

To understand the cultural impact the great Bloodrock had on 1970's middle America, one need look no further than the comments section of youtube.

From BeckyJeanz:

"i went to one of their concerts in '69 or '70, they were jammin, I was lovin it, then, my DAD comes in in the middle of the concert, sees the lead singer humping one of the huge speakers, and drags me out of their in front of God and everyone"


"In April 1971, a bunch of us went downtown Detroit to see our beloved Grand Funk...What's this? Who's this Bloodrock opening up the show...? Well, needless to say, the next day we were running around to the record stores to buy Bloodrock albums!!"


"holy smokes !!!!!..i remember listening to these guys in the mid seventies camping in the woods after a killer keg party..."

Bloodrock, we hardly knew ya.

Cortez the Killer - Neil Young, 2009

Nearly 35 years after it was initially recorded, Neil proves that he can still whip up an Alberta clipper with this number. About as far from phoning it in as one can imagine a rocker of his age doing. (especially when you see his piece of furniture rhythm guitarist trying to keep himself awake around 3:43. Come on buddy, you can make it.) after over a quarter of a century this Neil absolutely destroys all coverers.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

I Want to Know - The Young Flowers, 1969.

Geordie. Natural Born Loser.

Before Brian Johnson was stuffing his pants in front of 60,000 screaming douchebags with AC/DC, he fronted a little outfit called Geordie. From one Natural Born Loser to another, this shit rocks!

So pack your Marb Reds and head down to the arcade. There's gonna be a scrap.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Funkadelic. Cosmic Slop. 1971.

Damn, what I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall in the tour bus with these crazy fuckers. I can't stress enough how underrated Eddie Hazel is as a guitar player. The dude was still a teenager when most of the blistering Funkadelic shit was produced. He was 17 years old on his first national tour with the band, and this was the kind of shit he was exposed to. Dudes wearing diapers and doing more blow and blotter acid than Dennis Hopper on an Aussie outback bender. It's a crying shame the Games, Dames and Guitar Thangs is his only solo output, but that album rips like few others.

Some dudes are just not meant to walk this earth for very long. They show up, blow our brain matter clear out the backs of our collective skulls and then go somewhere and die quietly.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

The Jesus Lizard. Then Comes Dudley. '91.

The best live band I've ever seen. Behind David Yow's showmanship is a beyond competent noise band. Like Keith Moon, Mac MacNeilly hangs 'em high for some spastic cymbal smasing. If you don't know, you won't.

Remake/Remodel - Roxy Music, 1973.

Now for something completely different. Yeah, I know it looks like someone forced a college freshman performance art troupe on the rhythm section, but damn if Manzanera and the boys don't set this fuck ablaze.

Friday, January 15, 2010

Fenton Robinson-Somebody Loan Me a Dime-1977

If you're familiar with Duane Allman's Muscle Shoals studio sessions, you'll no doubt know that Skydog tears into the ass of this lead, locks his jaws, and shakes spasmodically for over 10 minutes.

Mr. Robinson's original version ain't too shabby either.

It should be noted that Boz Scaggs released this as a single without crediting Fenton Robinson, the original author. I'm sure Duane was not privy to this villainy because, frankly, he doesn't need to bite on anyone's licks.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Lonnie Mack. Double Whammy. 1986.

If you can ignore Stevie Ray Yawn for a minute, take a gander at the pickin' performed by Lonnie Mack. In an interview in MOJO, Jeff Beck claimed that he could hear a lot of Lonnie in Jimmy Page's playing. That makes sense, as they toured together in 1969 while Lonnie played guitar for the Doors. They had one other thing in common, they all detested Jim Morrison's drunk ass. I happen to agree.

Live in Memphis - Albert King, 1975.

The Velvet Bulldozer.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Truth and Janey. Universal Light. Live Audio, 1976.

From Wikipedia:

"The Van Allen radiation belt is a torus of energetic charged particles (plasma) around Earth, which is held in place by Earth's magnetic field. This field is not uniformly distributed around the Earth. On the sunward side, it is compressed because of the solar wind, while on the other side it is elongated to around three earth radii. This creates a cavity called the Chapman Ferraro Cavity, in which the Van Allen radiation belt resides. It is split into two distinct belts, with energetic electrons forming the outer belt and a combination of protons and electrons creating the inner belt. In addition, the belts contain lesser amounts of other nuclei, such as alpha particles. The Van Allen belts are closely related to the polar aurora where particles strike the upper atmosphere and fluoresce.
Prior to the Space Age, the possibility of trapped charged particles had been investigated by Kristian Birkeland, Carl Størmer, and Nicholas Christofilos. The existence of the belt was confirmed by the Explorer 1 and Explorer 3 missions in early 1958, under Dr James Van Allen at the University of Iowa. The trapped radiation was first mapped out by Explorer 4, Pioneer 3 and Luna 1."

If you think Dr. James Van Allen and his mid-20th century discovery of radiation belts that surround the earth is the heaviest thing to ever come out of the Eastern Iowa corridor, you would be wrong, because there are these Cedar Rapids long hairs putting down some serious fuzz right around the '76 Bicentennial.

Pentangle. Traveling Song. c1968.

This is the song that reverberates off a damp forest floor after you've fallen and injured yourself and a giant silver owl with blue eyes lifts you into his nest by the collar of your jacket and whispers "Don't fall in the woods. There are wolves."

Sidenote: Page was a huge Bert Jansch fan. He reputedly fell into a horrible depression when Jansch's hands became crippled by arthritis.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Flamin' Groovies. Slow Death. 1971.

I can relate to this song.

King Crimson. Starless. 1974.

When Earth gets too shitty to live on, this will be the roadtrippin' music I rock on my way to Mars. Robert Fripp can be my interplanetary escort anytime.

Coming Home - Delaney Bonnie & Friends, 1972.

Shit. I guess Clapton leaked his way into the blog albeit buried deep in a wall of jam.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Them Changes - Band of Gypsys, 1970.

40 years ago this week. Jesus. Matt, you and I are the only nuts in this crew dusty enough to have walked the same sweet planet as Jimi.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Freddie King. Boogie Funk. 1973.

Freddie King. The Texas Cannonball. One of the greatest tone players of all time.

The Cult, Phoenix

For my inaugural post to the Facemelting blog, I thought I'd reach back to my
youth and a song which blew my freakin' mind the very first time I set needle
to vinyl. To this day, The Phoenix doesn't fail to compel me strap on my air
guitar and get my Billy Duffy freak on--sans pompadour. If you listen closely,
especially to the studio version on the LOVE album, this number has a lead
guitar solo that never ends--it's a beautiful thing!

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Otis Rush. I Can't Quit You Baby

Little known fact: Otis Rush isn't just playing the blues, he's also using telepathy to emblazon an image of his dong on every female retina in the house for all of eternity. Glad I didn't take the old lady to this one.

Edgar Broughton Band. Love in the Rain. Beat Club. 1970.

I've never been to England, I wasn't alive in 1970 and I didn't know shit about this jam until a couple of weeks ago but brother, I was there. I was fucking there.

Dickey Betts & Great Southern - Southbound, 1978.

For a couple of goofy looking hayseeds, Charlie Daniels and Elvin Bishop do a pretty nice job of fluffing the audience for Dickey's solo.

Come Back Baby - Hot Tuna w/ Papa John Creech, 1972.

Jesus Christ, Papa John is like a 20th century Nero. I think the wildfires sparked by this violin solo may still be igniting pantaloons deep in Topanga Canyon.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Cactus. Evil. 1971.

Whoa. Cactus covering the Howlin' Wolf classic Evil.

I've been waking up with the cold sweats every night for past month or so. Dreaming of busted up Gibson SG's, gold fleck Slingerland kits, musty shag, and cookie sheets full of ditch weed.

While I consult my Salishan dream totem, feel free to give your face skin some blisters.