Friday, April 19, 2013
Evie Sands: A Brief Testimonial
There was a phenomena in the mid 60s were many male “British Invasion” bands would take songs from American Female Soul singers, and with the industry muscle behind them, usually make them into bigger hits--in many cases leaving the original version, as well as its singer, lost in a cutout rack, until unearthed by “retro-collector” soul mod DJS during the 90s. For Instance, while the Rolling Stones made their first top ten entry in 1964 with “Time Is On My Side,” Irma Thomas (who had sung the original and was just coming off a national hit herself) never managed to have another national hit, and by the end of the decade was working in a K-Mart.
The more one looks at this history, it’s fascinating how many of these songs (often by black American women) became more popular in versions by white British men, especially from 1964-1966 (Beatles, Stones, Hollies, Moody Blues, Small Faces, etc). I don’t want to say that the British Invasion versions are categorically worse than the originals, and listening to Steve Marriot and John Lennon’s covers one can hear a genuine appreciation of the original American soul and R&B (as distinct from “rock and roll” or “blues”) emotion that comes through in female singers (either black or white, such as Timi Yuro), but the soul and sexiness that comes through in these original versions is something to behold, and needs to be remembered, especially as some of these singers are still alive, and have not yet received their due.
This brings me to the case of Evie Sands. Evie Sands was a white American woman who cut some beautiful soul/r&b sides in the mid 1960s, most notably the original version of “I Can’t Let Go,” which went nowhere because The Hollies took the Rolling Stones’ formula and had an international smash with it in 1966 (#2 UK; #42 USA). While I always liked The Hollies version, The Evie Sands original (especially as performed with backing dancers on Shindig) has a soul and sexiness that, as a male listener, the Hollies simply cannot compete with: (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D88ee6rAA6s).
Sands persevered through the 60s: after the soul/dance craze had dissipated, she reinvented herself as folk/pop musician (featuring her unique upside-down left-handed guitar) recording the original of another Chip Taylor song, “Angel Of The Morning. This song became a huge hit—but, once again, for someone else—actually two other people went top ten with it (Merilee Rush, and later, Juice Newton): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nq6kh_37bvs.
Even on Youtube, the range of her of work is impressive. For instance, here’s a video of her appearing on The Johnny Cash Show in 1969, playing an acoustic blues number that rivals Bobbie Gentry in intensity: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ajZ-IeY9mnA.
And by the 90s, she reunited with Chip Taylor, and started getting more attention again. Here’s a version of her redoing “I Can’t Let Go,” playing left-handed upside down guitar, decades letter, in a quasi-punk bar-band version:
Evie Stands still plays and gigs regularly, and the shows are getting better and better. She’s not merely a “survivor” She has a lot of wisdom and soul, and knows how to put on a show! To be continued (if I get a chance to meet her….)
Works Cited—
Irma Thomas (Time Is On My Side ) 1964
Bessie Banks (Go Now)
Gloria Jones (“Tainted Love”)-1964
Dee Dee Warwick (You’re No Good) -1963
(Betty Everett)
Emma Franklin (Piece Of My Heart) --1967
Timi Yuro (What’s A Matter Baby)—1961
Evie Sands (original single)
Evie Sands (I Can’t Let Go)—1965 (demo)
Shindig lipsynch
Evie Sands: (Rehearsal sessions)
Evie Sands (At Echo-LA, 2-15-2011):
One other newer live version:
Evie Sands (on Johnny Cash show 1969):
The Hollies (I Can’t Let Go)
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Piano Van/ Chris Stroffolino-"Lisa Says" (Velvet Underground)
The Feuerzeig Video Covers Project. Part 2: “Lisa Says” (Velvet Underground)
“Lisa Says” (Velvet
Underground, Live, 1969 Version)
Why am I so shy? Oh
tell me why am I so shy?
You know god times
they just seem to pass me by.
Oh, why am I so shy?
There are certain songs you hear when you’re 18 that you can
immediately relate to, but are convinced that someday, somehow, you’ll learn to
outgrow when you ‘grow up,’ and “Lisa Says,” particularly this version of “Lisa Says,” is one of them.
In this excerpt, the singer recognizes shyness as an affliction
that prevents him from giving Lisa a kiss even though he wants to (and she
asked)! He’s more drawn to speculation, but he can’t figure out what causes it,
much less “cure” it. If he could answer it, would he be able to change, and
become the presumably less cruel, and more well adjusted “good time Charlie” he
contrasts himself with? Or is the shyness a salient, essential part of who he
is?
When I was 18, I and could immediately relate to this introverted
persona-- so obviously a Pisces (“made up of mostly water,” as he puts it in
“The Ocean,” another song from these sessions), but I probably believed it was
a situational mood song more than a salient identity song—not just because of
Reed’s later music, or the “rock and roll animal” persona he never felt
comfortable with, but because even in 1969, he was on stage singing a song
about being so shy. There’s a difference between being shy, and being shy about
admitting your shyness in public in a
heartfelt, yet artful, way. “Lisa Says,” in contrast to most pop songs, is not
shy about admitting its embarrassing shyness. In the process, the song becomes
an introvert anthem!
In the original meaning of “introvert,” it’s not a
judgmental term as “shyness” often is, but a descriptive term that means
“inwardly directed.” This can be evidenced in a tendency to be “always staring
at the sky” (as Lisa puts it). But it can also be social, and lead to a deeper,
more profound, kiss than what the
extroverted “Good Time Charlie,” able to live in the so-called present, is
capable of. It’s not just a soliloquy or confessional poem, in which the singer
pleas for understanding. The heartfelt melody (and even the campy, music hall
middle) shows it understands its shy listener, without condescending. In this
sense, the “I” of this song becomes transpersonal--and Reed, as a Pisces
Introspective Hero, helped me embrace it, at least for the record.
Looking back on his early songs in 1975, Reed writes:
Passion--REALISM--realism was the key. The records
were letters. Real letters from me to certain other people. Who had and still
have basically, no music, be it verbal or instrumental to listen to.
The song may not be the letter, but the record is. The record,
rather than the live performance, is the key that brings people together
(especially in this increasingly fragmented society). It’s not just a “finished
product,” but a highly personalized ‘form letter’—written for certain other
“inwardly directed” people. Of course, the letter analogy may not have as much
meaning in the 21st century, during the internet era, when the
contemplative medium of letter writing has become supplanted by a glut of
tweets and transient “kiss” of texts. It’s easy to forget that as late as the
90s, it was standard to write a letter, and wait a few weeks for a response.
This may have lacked the “immediate gratification” of electronic culture, but
certainly allowed the words to sink in, for both the writer and reader. Yet
Reed’s emphasis on the record, rather
than the song itself (let alone the
video), emphasizes the intimate
relationship that happens between the recording studio and the solitary
listener who may not experience music in traditional club settings.
The records are “not for parties/dancing/background romance,”
but are an introvert media. Like most VU fans, I first discovered them through
college radio, rock and roll history books, and/or records. Part of this was
due to necessity—living in a small town where none of my favorite bands played,
and no ‘underage clubs’ that I was aware of, made me value recorded music over
the live show (and in some ways the medium of recorded music—for better or
worse-- may have a lot to do with why
so many of us are so shy; as if the
record is where it’s happening more than the ‘actual present,’ which it was
easy to feel as a kid).
Only later, did
that lure me to see Reed in live performance, which in many ways was less
intimate, and even disappointing---at least if one was looking for that kind of
connection one could have in solitude. Yet, even in live performance, Reed was
able to make many of us feel part of a community
of introverts in a way most music could not. And, in a way, Lou himself never
did “outgrow” this Piscean, introspective, persona. That may also explain the
dark sunglasses more than “the future’s so bright I got to wear shades,” and
why Lou Reed abandoned the version of the song that emphasizes all the lyrics
about the shyness (he could pull similar theme and music-hall feel off in a
more campy way with Moe Tucker singing on “After Hours”), but for those who
find Lou Reed usually to be “too cool” (if not quite as ‘cool’ as Leonard
Cohen), “Lisa Says” may be one of his most honest
songs.
After all, shyness is also a professional workaholic stance:
some people like to go out dancing/ and other people they have to work---just
watch me now! (as one version of the “cool” rocker “Sweet Jane” puts it),
and certainly, just because you’re an introvert, doesn’t mean you can’t rock. In fact, dancing to Lou Reed
(or other music) live, and at parties, allows one to be “inwardly directed,”
and in a zone, and appear less shy than one really is. A lot of people who knew
me, or think they knew me, as a “class clown,” or performance poet, or rambling
verbaholic teacher, are surprised when I tell them I’m “shy.” —for some people,
it’s easier to talk to the world than it is to one particular person you’re
attracted to…and it amazes me how few people understand that.
The record, like the letter (or even the virtual reality of
the internet, in theory), is the art that allows the introvert to compensate for his or her “failure” in
the social present. I experienced this
first hand, when I recorded “Lisa Says” for Jeff Feuerzeig’s “Piano Van
Sessions” recently. As I sat in a Ford Econoline with a piano in it, rehearsing
the song for a recording, I peered through the little sliver of light and see pedestrians
who “are dancing and having such fun” (“Afterhours”). You can say I’m bringing
music to the masses, or at least random people who would never hear such a song
in a smokeless bar, but I’m wearing my “game face,” in a zone as they say, paying
more attention to practicing the song for the recording than to the pedestrians in the immediate social moment.
The future is more present than the present; the record more
social than the live performance. I feel isolated by the transient “kiss” of
the present that the “street musician” is supposed to thrive on. I feel shy,
but—equally—I can understand why Lisa would say, “You treat everybody so cruel!” It may not be my intention, but
by the time I realize I came off cruel when she flirted, she’s gone (first
thought, worst thought)! I didn’t outgrow it--even if I thought I did for a
while with my lady by my side for all those years.
But the recording, by contrast, gives me hope, and it makes
me glad to hear that many others consider “Lisa Says,” their favorite cover
song video Jeff Feuerzeig and I have made. The responses I’ve received from
people all over the world may be cold, “wire mesh mother” comfort in the
present—but they keep coming in long after “the night like this” in which I was
offered a transient kiss has passed, as if it might eventually compensate for
the affliction, and allow me, like Lou, to make a virtue of something I can’t
change.
But enough about Lou and myself; what about Lisa? Of all the
“says” women (or trannies), Caroline, Candy and Stephanie (and even the Lisa on
the VU version of this song), Lisa is
the most forward; she’s charmingly making the first move: “On a night like
this, it’d be so nice if you gave me a kiss.” She’s not just kissing the guy;
she’s using words to get him to do it. And all her rebukes, that might seem
nags to someone else, are not really judgmental; she’s just trying to get him
to kiss her! When I got into Shakespeare years later, I realize she’s kind of
like the Shakespearean comic heroine (Beatrice, Rosalind, Portia, etc.) in
that. I could easily fall for Lisa, and probably have a few times; sometimes
she’s a tease, but sometimes she’s genuine! She has to tease to please.
Here’s the link to the video on YOUTUBE: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=npjH4FVqNNk
Chris Stroffolino, March 2013
Friday, April 12, 2013
Juvenalia #2 (Fate And The Passage of Time, from Light As A Fetter; 1997, Situations Books, NYC; republished The Argotist, UK. 2007)
Fate and the Passage of Time
Summer's sentence is followed by the paragraph
Of autumn, an itch it can't scratch. The floor's
Caving in. Soon the ceiling gets depressed
To compensate. News finally arrives. "Bugs and eskimos
Don't have it any worse than those in White Plains."
But we're out in hopes of making it back from
Our mailboxes in time for our favorite commercials.
You think I'm kidding?! See for yourself, man the
Lookout post for me. Stand on the inside of the door
While I try out my new key. I'll owe you one.
I'll make up for it by turning the treble and bass
Up all the way so only the middle ranges will
Be denied the vote. They, like the thoughts that
Protect me from the feelings they become (as the suburbs
protect me from the city I have to pass through
to make it to the forest by fall), have had their day
In the sun long enough. Maybe it's time for the time
That doesn't have to untangle us to be here, the test
We can only pass if we waste no time thinking we can
Study for it. Nowhere to go but down where I'll wish
Your arms were safety nets to fall into from the burning
Building of your eyes (that I only went back to in hopes
of rescuing the rare-stamp collection disguised as our child).
Tearing open the formletter, debating whether it's junkmail,
We reached the scene of the climb, the peak in the middle
Of the slope and retraced our steps like a landslide.
Love couldn't come gently anymore. Drastic measures
Were needed: bombs, lawsuits, things slipped in our drinks.
O Checkmate me without even bothering to take my Queen
And see what little effect that has on the help
The news you bring cries for like cars stopped for redlights
(still but polluting just as much as if they were speeding).
And just as one must fall from the womb to the tomb
To fall out of reason into love, the lights will never change.
We have the vandals to blame or thank for that. I might
As well recall them, put the plant on hold, and start from scratch.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Creative Writing Workshop, with poet, Shakespearean, musician, essayist Chris Stroffolino in a fun, nurturing, non-institutional or graded setting
8 Three Hour Sessions; 1st Spring 2013 session
begins early May. Dates & times to be determined depending on the
needs of the class (I will do my best to accommodate people’s schedules--most
likely a weeknight).
Class Size: minimum
of 5, maximum of 10
Cost $400:
Check, money-order, or cash are all acceptable.
Course Description: . Taking each student’s writing and/or performance pieces as
the starting point, this workshop encourages students to write in different
genres. Students may work within one genre throughout the entire course, but
will be encouraged to explore a way of stylistic options including screenplays,
poems, manifestos, creative-non-fiction, dialogue pieces, performance texts, song
lyrics, poem-paintings, videos, texts that redefine or de-define genre, ‘hybrid
texts,’ or ‘non-poetry.’ Students will offer critiques of each other’s work to
create a dialogue within a ‘unity in diversity’ approach. By the end of the
class, students can expect a deeper understanding into the creative process as
well as the business of publishing or other ways of making their work public.
Note: this class is intended for all levels.
Chris Stroffolino is
the author of 7 books of poetry, including Light As A Fetter (2007), Speculative
Primitive (2004), Scratch Vocals (2003), Stealer’s Wheel (1999),
Cusps (1995), and Oops (1994). He also published 2 books of
Literary Criticism, Spin Cycle (2001), and, with David Rosenthal, a critical
study of Shakespeare’s 12th Night (2000). He received a PhD in
Shakespeare studies and has worked with The Actors Shakespeare Company (Albany,
NY) and Cal Shakespeare (Orinda). He has recorded & performed music with
Silver Jews, King Khan & Gris Gris, SLVR, Jolie Holland, and done
soundtrack and session work for many others. Stroffolino’s music and cultural
criticism has appeared in The Radio Survivor, The Big Takeover, Caught In The
Carousel, Kitchen Sink, Oakbook, etc. His was a recipient of grants from NYFA,
and The Fund For Poetry, and was Distinguished Visiting Poet-in-Residence at
St. Mary’s college from 2001-2006. He has also taught at San Francisco Art
Institute, Mills College, Rutgers University, NYU, LIU, Laney College, Temple
and Drexel. His poetry and prose has been widely anthologized, and translated
into Spanish, Bengali, Hungarian, and Dutch. He has also edited literary
journals and curated several reading/music/talk/performance series.
To Register, contact chris.stroffolino@gmail.com
or 415-260-7535. Spaces are limited. No more than 10 students will be accepted
per class. Interested students should submit a note explaining what you hope to
learn this session or a 3-5 page sample (or 2 MP3s if working in primarily an
audio format).
*I’ve taught these classes in art galleries,
cafes, community centers, and at students’ homes.
No grades, but the workshop may culminate in a public/reading
performance talk.
**I am also available for one-on-one sessions
(in person, through phone, or email)
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
"Hunting Is Not Those Heads On The Wall," Le Roi Jones/ Amiri Baraka
This seminal essay is both a corner-piece of "The Black Arts" Movement, and also one of the most important statements of "Poetics" (and the relationship of thought/feeling ['hunting'] to art [those heads on the wall] of the past 50 years. Originally published in HOME (1966), while still under the name Le Roi Jones, his essay for some reason did not appear in The LeRoi Jones/Amiri Baraka reader. Baraka makes similar points in many of his longer works as well, but the succinctness of this essay in theorizing a new American vernacular which is as oral as it is written (in contrast to its Euro-forebears)
is immensely useful in the classroom, or even for any young rock and roll musician who is sick of being told rock music pales in comparison to page-based poetry.
The essay is not available on line (to force you to go the library), but discussions of it are.
CS
http://books.google.com/books?id=srqVIZrRxl0C&pg=PA128&lpg=PA128&dq=%22hunting+is+not+those+heads+on+the+wall%22+%22Jones%22&source=bl&ots=Y9UqsFSLYo&sig=MODLU1AxGme5OEPKzC-Kuql_nMw&hl=en&sa=X&ei=STVmUezvD-HxiwLR14GoDQ&ved=0CBgQ6AEwAA#v=onepage&q=%22hunting%20is%20not%20those%20heads%20on%20the%20wall%22%20%22Jones%22&f=false
is immensely useful in the classroom, or even for any young rock and roll musician who is sick of being told rock music pales in comparison to page-based poetry.
The essay is not available on line (to force you to go the library), but discussions of it are.
CS
http://books.google.com/books?id=srqVIZrRxl0C&pg=PA128&lpg=PA128&dq=%22hunting+is+not+those+heads+on+the+wall%22+%22Jones%22&source=bl&ots=Y9UqsFSLYo&sig=MODLU1AxGme5OEPKzC-Kuql_nMw&hl=en&sa=X&ei=STVmUezvD-HxiwLR14GoDQ&ved=0CBgQ6AEwAA#v=onepage&q=%22hunting%20is%20not%20those%20heads%20on%20the%20wall%22%20%22Jones%22&f=false
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