I've
been having flashbacks. I walk down the street and see old
girlfriends, old cars, beer signs which haven't existed for decades
(Oh, Heidelberg, what happened to you?). I think about what life was
like before the Internet and at certain moments really wish that we
could go back and change things. I find myself closing my eyes to so
many things which are part of the everyday now and shuddering to
think how far we have come. The thing is, it has come with a cost. A
billion people knowing the answer to everything but not knowing much
of anything at all. A million sure that their way is the
way. A hundred thousand who are
sure that there is no good music anymore and have stopped looking. A
hundred, if that many, who know music
is better than ever but have no one to tell because the hundred
thousand who claim interest have stopped listening. I get tired.
And
then along comes an album which drops into your lap and gives you
hope and, yes, that hope is in the past because those times were
simpler and not as intense and more human. The album of which I
speak is The Mike Farley
Band's
Where We Stand and
don't be surprised if you don't know of it. In this time of
information overload I am surprised that we know as much as we do.
But it is there and it has made its way into my ears and my psyche
and I find myself listening to it on an escalating scale--- to enjoy,
to escape.
Lately
my escapes have come through music values revisited, mostly those of
the early seventies. I have been drawn to the past as much as those
hundreds of thousands have refused to leave theirs, preferring the
constant drone of the “classics” to anything new or exciting. My
past did include Led Zeppelin and The Rolling Stones and, yes, The
Beatles, but I have heard those ad nauseum and have turned toward
others--- the lesser-knowns, shall we say. The music going through
my head is that of early Sons
of Champlin and
The Damnation of
Adam Blessing and
Illinois Speed
Press,
not because they are cool, like others who have found them or carried
them into their present, but because the music was (and is) good.
Paul Cotton-era
Poco.
The Atlantics.
Greg Kihn.
A
couple of years ago I added Lost
Leaders to
the mix because of the small details in their music, naming it Album
of the Year for 2014 and ready to defend it against all-comers,
though no one seemed to notice. And this year, there is The
Mike Farley Band.
I
have known Farley for awhile now but not as a musician. As much as
we have talked music, his personal involvement just never came up.
And he has a band. Sonofabitch, and I mean that in a music manner.
Who knew?
Turns
out it's a damn good band, in fact, and though I was ready to give
them a chance, it took a few listens. Mainstream rock is a strange
animal and I have dismissed albums before which became real favorites
over the years. The first hint of quality was Back
To Before,
a light poppish tune which had just enough Greg Kihn to make me take
notice. Listen two uncovered my now-favorite track, Subtle
No More,
which could have easily been a hit in 1972 or 1973, the verse
building toward the chorus which stuck in my mind and wouldn't go
away. Rewrite
History came
next, an upbeat but smooth rocker, then Helpless
and
so on and so forth.
They
are good songs. Solid songs. But what makes them better than good
is the attention to detail--- the way they were recorded. Listen
closely and you can hear the organ on this song and the smooth
electric rhythm on that song and the lead guitar, which could have
been recorded by the master of the studios back in the seventies,
Dean Parks.
Guitarist Jeff
Nagel will
appreciate the comment. Parks was (and hopefully still is) a master.
The
one negative about the album is not a negative at all. Reading the
track listing, one song stuck out: Evil
Woman.
My heart beat a little faster when I envisioned maybe a slightly
toned-down version of the Spooky
Tooth classic.
Could it be, I thought. No such luck, but the alternative was not
all that bad--- it was a cover of the ELO
song.
The good thing is that I didn't mind it. Maybe if they had
attempted the Spooky Tooth song, I would have. I will never know
(unless they cover that one on the next album).
I'm
listening to Subtle
No More as
I end this. It's the chorus. It has to be the chorus. Or maybe
it's the guitar. Or the harmonies. But goddamn, I am beginning to
really love the song. I knew it was making headway when I found
myself in line at the grocery store and hearing it in my head and
wondering who it was. It took a good half hour before Mike Farley
popped into my head. Of course! He's in good company in there, lots
of Nick Holmes and
Brian Cullman and
Lost Leaders and
others taking up space. So much better than the days I worked retail
and had Springsteen or The Rolling Stones bumping the much better
indie songs out of my consciousness. It's called brainwashing, kiddies.
Music
is better than ever. Where We Stand proves
it. It may not be the best album you will ever hear, but it's
goddamn good and close enough.
(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written
for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog,
his
own website and the
prestigious Don't
Believe A Word I Say site
put together by musician and music pundit Bob Segarini,
out of Toronto. He specializes in the Indies, having fought
hand-to-hand combat with major record labels for decades (talk about
zombies).
He believes music should be the core of the music business, though
business it mostly be, and denies the accepted reality in the stead
of the artistic one. Seldom does he receive pay for articles and/or
reviews and believes that there is no place for negatives in a world
in which one cannot keep up with the positives. He is, in a sense, a
lost soul in a sea of music, drowning, but drowning gratefully.)
