The Rolling Stones are a three-act play, all positioned around lead guitar: The first was the Brian Jones early period (1962-1969), the middle were the Mick Taylor years of growth (1969-1974), and then there is the Ronnie Wood time of pop malaise and decline (1974-present). Obviously, from the title, this British telley documentary deals with the center portion.
While I’m more of a Brian Jones era kinda guy, there is no doubt that the Rolling Stones had a growth spurt under Mick Taylor’s tenure that was bolstered in part by (and not given enough credit for here) producer Jimmy Miller a nice (though drug addled) Brooklyn boy who was very approachable the few times I met him in Joe Viglione’s kitchen in the 1980s.
The difference between the Brian Jones and Mick Taylor phases of the Rolling Stones is sort of like silver-era DC and Marvel Comics, relatively: DC had one issue complete stories with exemplary yet uncomplicated art, while Marvel was into pushing the envelope with story arcs and art by, well, Jack Kirby – the Mick Taylor of comics - at his finest.
During his five-and-a-half years with the Stones, Mick Taylor worked on five albums that ranged from some of the more musically adept the band were to produce to signs of spinning out of control.
Before I jump ahead, I would like to comment that one of the many things I liked about this particular documentary is that when it says it covers the Stones during the Mick Taylor years, it means the focus is on the Stones part, not just the Mick Taylor influence. They use his tenure as a guide rather than a solitary viewing direction. That being said, I recommend watching the extra first here, which is a 6 minute short, hosted by the oft-Chrome Dreams-used writer Alan Clayson and musician extraordinaire, John Mayall, which tells of Taylor’s pre-Stones life, with Clayson handling the beginning, and Mayall describing Taylor’s influence in the Bluesbreakers. This will set the viewer up nicely for the main feature.
As with many of the Alex Westbrook British bios, this one is well researched and the wide use of clips covers the topic well, including bits by the band (here, mostly live cuts) and some of the other music discussed as influences, or that, say, Keith was into at the moment. There are no complete songs, but that’s okay because that’s not what this is all about.
The selection of experts here is well chosen, generally, including the aforementioned Clayson and Mayall, and includes guitarist (of the Only Ones and Pink Fairies) and writer John Perry, some music historians like Nigel Williamson, Robert Greenfield, and Robert “D-“ Christgau, and Exile on Main Street studio musicians Al Parkins (of the Burrito Bros. on steel guitar) and Bill Plummber (bass). Even a puffy Mick Taylor has a recent, if brief interview toward the end of the program(me) concerning his leaving the Stones. What I want to know is where are all the commentary by the women in the Stones’ world? Where’s Marianne Faithful? Anita “pretty-pretty” Pallenberg? Surely there are female authors or experts on the period? There is a lot of testosterone on this documentary.
Okay, getting back to the subject at hand…
The first single Mick Taylor worked on for the Rolling Stones was the killer “Honky Tonk Women.” His fretwork sets fire to it. Taylor’s first live performance with band was the concert two days after Brian Jones’ drowning (recommended reading on Jones’s death: A.E. Hotchner’s 1990 Blown Away). Talk about pressure for the 20 year old guitar wizard.
While recording their LP, Let It Bleed (produced by Jimmy Miller), the first with Mick Taylor and their eighth in total, a lot of the ideas were from previous sessions, and Taylor was as much a session man as a key member. At this point, there is a discussion on the DVD about the influence of both Taylor and Altamont on the band (opposite poles, but both substantial).
Here, the documentary veers away from Taylor specifically and into the life of the band, when they realize that they were broke and kicked out Allen Klein, a lesson the Beatles had already learned. They start their own record company, attached to Ahmet Ertegun’s Atlantic Records. Their first release was Sticky Fingers, on which Keith was heavily influenced by U.S. country music via Gram Parsons (e.g., “Wild Horses”), much to Jagger’s dismay, according to this telling. This record also produced their monster hit “Brown Sugar.” Drugs started to make more of an appearance with the likes of “Moonlight Mile.” While Keith’s (and Brian before him) substance abuse is mention frequently in this, everyone else is left untouched. Whether Taylor (or the rest of the band) was imbibing is not a topic mentioned, but I wondered.
Next up was Exile on Main Street (produced by Miller), like the Beatles’ White Album, sort of a conglomeration as much as anything else, created in the studio. It was started in the south of France, with the full band present, but thanks to a drug raid of Keff’s palace (which doubled as their recording studio) and a need to am-scray as ast-fay as ossibe-pay, Keith and Jagger went to L.A. by themselves, and recorded a bulk of the album using studio musicians, such as Parkins and Plummber. The sound ended up being arguably muddy, and many critics were lukewarm to it, but it is still considered by many to be the Stones’ best release. “Tumbling Dice” was the only cut that Taylor was given any writing credit for, on any album, a bone of contention with him (and rightfully so, as any band that has long guitar solos deserves to have the guitarist given writing credit). It’s at this point, also noted here, that the Stones – that is Keith and especially Jagger due in part to his marriage to Bianca Perez Morena de Macias (who is mentioned in passing) – became socialite butterflies who were know for, as they state here, “being famous for being famous” as much as being musicians.
Goat’s Head Soup, the last Miller produced for the band, is acknowledged by some of the critics here as having less soul, and rehashing of old ideas (one claims that “Dancing with Mr. D” is just a follow-up to “Sympathy for the Devil”), leaning more towards pop than rock, or as one critic here posits, “Where it all starts to go wrong.” It was a No. 1 album that had lukewarm critic enthusiasm, and one big hit: “Angie.”
For the It’s Only Rock ‘n Roll LP, Jagger and Richards produced it themselves as the “Glimmer Twins.” Many consider this their last album before they hit the skids, including some of the experts here (or, as one eloquently states, “they peaked”). But driven by lack of appreciation through being ignored for songwriting credit and tensions within the band, Taylor left after it was released to join the Jack Bruce Band (good luck with that!).
There are some good still pictures at this point, including one of Taylor jamming with Hendrix, as the documentary closes up. There lots of good details here, some great live footage of the band, and plenty of anecdotes, that makes this an interesting watch. I was a DC guy, but I – er – Marvel and appreciate what the Stones accomplished at this growth stage. Meanwhile, I think I’m going to go listen to Hot Rocks now…
The following interview with Tommy James was originally published in FFanzeen magazine, issue #12, in 1984. It was implemented and written by Joe Viglione.
As I was led into an office to interview novelty country musician and advertising maven Chinga Chavin in the early ‘80s, Tommy James was walking out. Being introduced by Chinga, I shook Tommy’s hand, and mine was lost in his huge mitt. That was what I took away from the three seconds I met him, physically. Musically, he was part of my life for years, through all the songs that Joe mentions in his piece. Even to this day, Joe Viglione remains a huge Tommy James supporter, which I respect. In that honor, I reprint this Q & A interview. – RBF, 2010
Tommy James, one of the master craftsmen of pop, returned to the Boston area after an absence of more than seven years. The man made an indelible impression on many a memory with such hits as “Hanky Panky,” “Three Times in Love,” “I Think We’re Alone Now,” “Mirage,” “Crimson & Clover,” “Mony Mony”; and there are so many more.
To any serious rock’n’roll fan, this is great news. To a Tommy James devotee, it is intense news! I first saw Mr. James at The Red Barn in Westboro (MA), on October 3, 1975. It was a magical night full of energy and hit recordings. A night we got to relive in 1977, when Tommy returned to the area to play The Weymana, in Weymouth.
In honor to Tommy’s return, I decided to track him down. It took a few days of negotiating, but before long, I found myself on the phone setting up an interview with one of my rock’n’roll idols – at his home! To say I was nervous is an understatement. What do you say to someone who has had a hand in making some of your best memories? I flipped through my Tommy James albums. Aha, maybe I’ll ask Tommy some real off the wall questions about songs, like Gary Glitter’s “Do You Wanna Touch Me,” which Joan Jett’s producers, Ritchie Cordell and Kenny Laguna first recorded with Tommy; maybe I’ll ask him what it felt like, in 1977, to be produced by Jeff Barry, the man who co-wrote “Hanky Panky” more than a decade after the song made his career. There were many questions on my mind. Monday, February 6, 1984, I decided to begin with Joan Jett:
FFanzeen: Joan Jett had two big hits with “Do You Wanna Touch” and “Crimson & Clover,” proving once again that you were ahead of your time. How do you feel about that? Tommy James: Well, it’s always flattering when people do your songs. It’s also very interesting because many of the records I did have turned into classic. I don’t know that I would go back into the studio myself and re-cut them. It would be very tough to recapture the magic. And every now and then somebody does. I think Joan Jett did a nice job with “Crimson & Clover.” They did it a little bit – they beefed it up. I don’t think as much thought went into the production; I think that it was very effective. It was done just the way it should’ve been done for today.
FF: I thought your production of “Crimson & Clover” was unbelievable. Tommy: Well, thank you. The funny part about “Crimson & Clover,” y’know, we had two ways of doing it. As a matter of fact, we were thinking very seriously about doing it the way Joan Jett ended up doing it… which was doing it very hard and doing it with a little more of a heavy metal sound. We chose back at that time to go with a little bit softer sound, to go with an acoustic guitar. Then, I think we had a harpsichord on there, and we had a whole lot of other things that allowed us to build the record… to do both a short and a long version. The longer version has ended up to be the classic, with the big guitar solo in the middle of the record. But I must say though, for the single, Joan Jett did a real fine job. The Rubinoos did a nice job also with “I Think We’re Alone Now,” and Billy Idol had “Mony Mony.” It’s very flattering when new artists do your material. I think it shows that your songs stand up to time, and that’s always a good feeling.
FF: I’d like to see these artists contacting you to have you produce some of these tunes, because you’ve really shown yourself to be a master of the studio. I don’t think a lot of people have picked up on that. Tommy: I think that you have to – well, at Roulette Records, I had to. I was kind of a jack-of-all-trades back in the old days, because I was writing the songs, I was producing the songs, I was performing the songs, and in many instances, I was promoting the songs. It was like a one-man operation up there. But I don’t think I could’ve gotten the training any other way… the knowledge of the record industry all the way from the nuts and bolts of the production to the marketing procedures and things like that. I don’t think I would’ve known the industry like I do today if it hadn’t been for that time.
FF: I found an album called Tommy James’ 20 Greatest Hits, released in Canada. Tommy: Well, that was all part of a package. We went platinum in 1976-77, on Adam VIII, which was released in this country, and then in Canada with another package. It has 20 songs on the one album; the fidelity is terrible.
FF: But there are two songs on it that I had never seen in America: “Celebration” and “Love Song.” Tommy: They were both out, right at the period of time when I was leaving Roulette. They were songs that were a little bit later on, before I made the jump to Fantasy Records.
FF: The Fantasy albums were pretty great, both of them. Tommy: Thank you.
FF: And Jeff Barry producing you. Tommy: Jeff did the last one. It was me, Ritchie Cordell and Kenny Laguna who did the In Touch album, the first Fantasy project. And The Midnight Rider album was Jeff Barry, who wrote my first hit song, “Hanky Panky.”
FF: So that must have been a magic moment. Tommy: It was a good combination. I gotta say I was a little disappointed with the production on that. I think the songs were fun and we had fun writing it, but I was a little bit disappointed. I think there could’ve been a little bit more depth to the production; it was real straight ahead. But you know, every producer has his own tastes and it’s so hard to tell. You’ve gotta just let somebody else pain the picture before you really see what it looks like. It’s a different way of looking at yourself when somebody else produces you.
FF: You released something called “No Hay Dos Sin Tres,” on Millennium. Tommy: Oh, that was the Spanish version of “Three Times in Love.”
FF: Really, I didn’t know that. Tommy: Yeah [laughs]. We had the gold record in 1980 with “Three Times in Love.” It went #1 Adult Contemporary, and Top-10 in the pop charts. That was the last gold record I had. I did a Spanish version of that.
FF: I thought it was some obscure Millennium release I missed out on. You’re recording a new album now? Tommy: That’s right. We’re being very careful this time.
FF: You have the same band as on “Three Times in Love”? Tommy: No, it’s a different group of musicians; a little bit different direction in the studio this time. We’re using an instrument used on the Thriller album that’s very exciting. It’s called a Synclavier – a $65,000 computerized synthesizer. It’s a fantastic instrument that can not only give you every sound that you can conceive of inside the machine, but if you want the actual sound of a human voice, or a guitar solo, or a real saxophone or something, all you have to do is blow a couple of notes into the computer and it memorizes the sound of, like, a saxophone, or the wind going through the horn, and memorizes it digitally. You can play it on the keyboard. It consists of a keyboard, a typewriter, and a TV monitor, so you can see the actual signal playing onto a floppy disk. And then, from a floppy disk, you dump everything onto tape. So you can literally make the album in your living room, or a good portion of the album in your living room, and take it to the studio. ‘Cause everything put in there would be memorized by the computer and put to memory. So about the only thing you need the studio for is your vocal and to mix. It’s fun to play with. It’s not really an ends-to-the-means, but it’s a nice instrument to build the shell of a record; to build the skeleton. In the studio, I’d probably want to use other instruments. If you wanted to use a conga or something there’s nothing like the sound of a natural conga. We’re going a little bit more electronic this time.
FF: And you’re writing all the material this time. Tommy: Me and my writing partner, Don Ciccone.
FF: Oh, Don’s still with you, then. He did keyboards on “Three Times in Love.” Tommy: That’s correct. Don was one of the members of the original Critters; “Mr. Dyingly Sad” [and “Younger Girl” – Ed.], and then he was with the Four Season for about 10 years. We’ve been friends for a long, long time. We started working together about four years ago, and writing together two years ago.
FF: All you released on 21/Polygram last year was the 45, “Say Please”? Tommy: That’s right. That was a project that got hung up in production. The record company fell apart before the project got done. It’s too bad, but that happens sometimes with a new label.
FF: Are you going on a nationwide tour? Tommy: We probably will. The thing with going on the road, I don’t do it very often. I’m very selective about the dates that I play and the towns that I play in. I’m really looking forward to coming to Boston. Always like to play up there. We’ve always had great crowds up there, and the crowds are good and rowdy. Boston’s known for that. Always loved playing in Boston, even back in the ‘60s. There’s a new product coming this spring. As a matter of fact, I’ll be in the studio right after we get done wit the Channel in Boston, so I’m looking at a spring release for a single, and a summer release for an album. That means I’ll be in the studio pretty much right up until summer. If all things go as planned, I’ll probably be touring this summer. I don’t like to do the 30-40-50-date tours. I like to go out for a week at a time and then take a couple of weeks off, and go out for another week-10 days. I don’t know how these guys do it. We put out so much energy during a show that, if I were to literally play for 40 nights in a row, I don’t think there’d be much of me when I got home.
Tommy James & the Shondells Discography Hanky Panky (1966) It's Only Love (1966) I Think We're Alone Now (1967) Gettin' Together (1967) Something Special! The Best of Tommy James and the Shondells (1968) Mony Mony (1968) Crimson and Clover (1969) Cellophane Symphony (1969) The Best of Tommy James and the Shondells (1969) Travelin' (1970) Anthology (1989)
Solo Discography Tommy James (1970) Christian of the World (1971) My Head, My Bed & My Red Guitar (1972) In Touch (1976) Midnight Rider (1977) Three Times in Love (1980) Tommy James The Solo Years: 1970 - 1981 (1989) Hi-Fi (1990) Tommy James Discography: Deals & Demos 74' - 92' (1993) A Night in Big City (1995) Tommy James Greatest Hits Live!(1997) Tighter, Tighter (2000) It Keeps On Goin' (2003) I Love Christmas (2004) Sweet Cherry Wine (2005) Isn't That the Guy (2005) Lupe & Joe (2006) Hold the Fire (2006) I Love Christmas (2008)
When Joan did this interview, her photographer friend Gay Fast took a photo of Willie wearing one of my FFanzeen tee-shirts, which I still have and treasure. Oh, and I also have one of Pete Shelley.
Willie has been a mainstay in the Boston scene, having fronted a few seminal bands, such as the Lost. He was also Lou Reed’s replacement in the Velvet Underground when they toured Europe in the early ‘70s. He also recorded a single with VU drummer Mo Tucker and Jonathan Richman.
I had the opportunity to see Willie play in Boston a few times during the 1980s, including at the Paradise during one of Joe Viglione’s amazing Spectaculars, where I went with noted photographer at the time, Rocco Cippilone (aka Peter Parka), who went on to publish the excellent Bang! fanzine. – RBF, 2010
Willie Alexander has been an important part of the music scene in Boston and in general for many years. He has been involved in a number of bands, one of the best known being the Boom Boom Band. When they disbanded in the summer of 1978, Willie dropped out of sight for a number of years. He came into view on a few occasions with various single projects, but didn’t emerge fully until November 1981.
Since then, a solo album, Solo Loco, has been released on RCA Records in France and Bomp! Records in the States, full of new material with a different twist. It’s still new and exciting but experimental in areas he’d never before explored; self-produced, as well.
Most recently, he’s gotten together a new band called the Confessions, consisting of himself on vocals and keyboards, Walter Powers on bass, Mathew McKenzie on guitar, and Ricky Rothchild on drums. In the past few months, they’ve been playing an assortment of live dates around the East Coast – including a few opening for the J. Geils Band – and have gone over extremely well. The future looks better than it ever has before. Willie has settled down in both his personal and business life. Since he’s already, in previous interviews, answered all the straight questions about his work, we decided to chat with him and find out his inner thoughts and feelings on himself at this point in his life.
FFanzeen: How did the break-up of the Boom Boom Band affect your mood? What did you feel at that point? Willie Alexander: I felt… shell-shocked. I guess I had just about had it at that point. The whole business side of it all, and everything else combined.
FF: You stayed out of action for quite some time after that. Willie: Yes, I needed some time to get better control of myself and what I was doing. I needed the time off to think about what direction I was going in.
FF: Then you decided to get back into the swing of things [“B.U. Baby” single; “Gin” single]. What prompted this? Willie: Different people more or less asked me to do them, so it was made easy for me.
FF: Were they projects that would have come out on independent singles promoted by you at some later date anyway? Willie: No, some of them I wouldn’t have ever thought of doing. Like “B.U. Baby.” I’d never have thought of that, or “Gin” either, but I was approached, and after doing it, I felt it came out really great and I was happy with it. I was glad they got revived. I got a lot of mileage out of “Gin,” for instance. At that time, especially, it was really good for me.
FF: Since it came at a time when you were perhaps still disillusioned, did these projects make you more optimistic, maybe motivate you towards getting a band together, getting out –? Willie: Yes, it really did. It was nice to see my name in the papers again. That way you’re establishing contact again. People probably say, “Gee, it’s been a long time between engagements for this guy, but at least he’s still making records – that’s good.” It’s a way of staying in there without actually having to put a band together.
FF: Were the thoughts of a solo LP lingering in your mind for some time before it actually materialized? Willie: Yes, I had some things I didn’t think would be band material, so I did them in a solo way. Now that I have a band, I look at them like they’re band material. Definitely; I mean, I changed them.
FF: What actually motivated you to get moving on the solo project, especially as it sounds completely different from your previous work? Was it the freedom of doing it yourself and having it turn out the way you wanted it to, especially having produced it yourself when you could have gotten someone to do it? Willie: I wasn’t really looking at the time. I felt it was something I had to do at the time. The solo LP concept came up when I was with the Boom Boom Band doing the second LP [Meanwhile, Back in the States – Ed.] . I was talking with (producer) Craig Leon and I told him I really didn’t like the way things were going with it, and he kept saying, “oh, don’t worry, we’ll do a solo LP after this.” Then it turned out later it didn’t work out; we tried a couple of cuts. I seemed to do much better myself, doing some of the same songs. Some of them I just went in and did totally experimental. I used the studio as a medium, sort of, some of them are like sketches, but most of them are pretty flushed out.
FF: Did you think at the time, that maybe you couldn’t find musicians or a producer, to get a cross the type of sound you wanted? Willie: I didn’t even know what type of sound I wanted. I didn’t know what was going to happen in there.
FF: Were you perhaps surprised at the outcome? Possibly, that you went in to do demos for songs and they more or less ended up finished projects? Willie: Well, I was thinking of it as a real album. I mean, I was doing it cut by cut. I really didn’t have an overall plan for it. It was a do-or-die thing.
FF: Were you pleased with the outcome? What are your thoughts now that you look back on it? Any changes you would like to have made? Willie: It’s the way I wanted it to come across. I wanted to convey a lot of different influences, not the usual type of thing that people were used to hearing from me. You know, guitars, bass – to me it’s more of a jazz-oriented feeling throughout, with my choices of instruments and the improvisations of melody lines. I really didn’t have songs written out; a lot of things would be improvised. And leave it like it was a jazz piece.
FF: But, then, strangely enough, you went out and put together a band: guitars, bass and drums. Why? Willie: Yes, but I used a lot of the riffs from that, the ones that came out of this context.
FF: You didn’t have any thoughts of doing it solo, standing up in front of a packed crowd with backing, tapes and you singing? Willie: No, I don’t think I would have been comfortable doing that. It had to be a real rock’n’roll band, as that’s as much fun as doing a solo LP.
FF: Being so comfortable with the band now, would it have made a difference if they had been accessible at the time you were recording? Willie: No, I had to do it the way I did. I just walked into the studio alone most of the time. I used Ted St. Pierre, the engineer. He played bass and guitar, so we did most of the stuff ourselves. I’d, like, play drums and piano, start with one or another, and gradually add bass, sometimes guitar, synthetics, and things.
FF: Then that was the sound you liked all along? Willie: Because it was so unplanned. I really couldn’t teach people too many parts to these things. It more or less just fell together. Even I didn’t know all the parts; I have to learn them myself to make them work in a band context.
FF: When the French deal [with New Rose – RBF] came about for the LP, what were your thoughts on it? Willie: A ray of hope. I was a bit leery of all the business connected with it, but the way it was approached, I wasn’t selling my body and soul to a company, more like selling a product I’d already finished. I got to maintain my artistic freedom.
FF: What made you actually get back to playing live, and getting a band together? All the hype from the LP? Willie: It was something I think I really had to do, to make me feel better as a person. It also would help the album as well. Promotion in general, that was the main purpose. I reached a point just going into the studio alone and all. I think I needed the combinations, friction, interaction of different people.
FF: You must feel better about yourself, then? Willie: Yes, I feel more in control now, more productive in my own way. I don’t feel depressed thinking about the future anymore. It seems more hopeful now, not like an obligation to fulfill. I feel comfortable for the future.
FF: Concerning the band you’re working with now (The Confessions), what made you believe that these were the right people to add? How did it all fall into place? .Willie: Some of them I’d known for a while; I knew what they were capable of doing. I figured it was about time to do it then. I had played with Walter Powers in a lot of bands, and I played with Mathew McKenzie in a band. It just had to be the right people this time around. Not that the other guys weren’t right for that time, but I can talk a little easier to Mathew than the other guitar player, nothing personal. I know him, we’ve shared a lot of things, we can be honest, and most of all, we can bounce ideas of one another.
FF: Do you, as an artist, find it hard to keep a band together, especially since you write the songs and the band almost serves as your vehicle? Is it a tense situation at times? Willie: So far, so good. We’ve got a good interaction going. We struggle with the songs, I’ll bring in a part and we’ll keep trying new ideas out on it. With a lot of my material, I’ll lay down the skeleton of it and I know how Mathew will work it out because I know his style. But, he never fails to surprise me. I think he’s got a lot of jazz influence, even though he might not think so. He’s got a certain reckless abandon in his playing sometimes, like a number of the great jazz players. I’d rather work with someone like that than a standard rock guitarist. I never know what’s really going to happen with him.
FF: What’s your attraction to jazz playing? Is it the fact that often times they’re learned musicians? Willie: When I started out, I wanted to be a jazz musician, so I still kind of think of that. When I didn't like where rock’n’roll was going, I started listening more to jazz. When I was in high school, I was more interested in playing jazz drums than in trying to play the type of rock’n’roll on the radio at that time. Every five years, rock’n’roll gets good again. I really liked the ‘50s. Then it got good again mid-‘60s.
FF: What parts of it didn’t you like, specifically? Willie: I think it was the sound at different times. It started to sound too manufactured. It was lacking the rawness. It was too slick and sophisticated for me. I seem to have a lot of complaints. What’s funny is that the slickness is what the majority of people like. These are people who consider my stuff and I think that’s pretty good because lots of times I do my best to keep it sounding primitive. The album sounded that way, but with only 8 tracks it would be hard to get it too slick. Maybe the next time when I get 16 tracks or with 24, my troubles would be over.
FF: Then we can all hate it. Willie: Yes, but it would sell millions.
FF: What are your thoughts about touring? Willie: In general, it can be fun, but it’s still work. You get to see the country. It’s necessary, I know. We’re going to be going to France, hopefully, in the spring, which is a lot better than saying, “Hey, would you like to go to Indianapolis or St. Louis for the weekend?” Sure, I like touring. Going to France is pretty hot stuff.
FF: Do you find it exciting that you’re going to some place where, as a solo performer, you’ve never been, and your material has sold extremely well and gotten good press? Willie: It’ll be pretty wild. It’s almost surrealistic in a way. I went through France with Walter (Powers) when we were with the Velvet Underground in 1971, and all this wasn’t even a glimmer in my eye then, just guys on bicycles with berets and cigarettes hanging out of their mouths and turtleneck sweaters. I never thought they’d be buying my album. I had heard, though, that they liked American music, jazz and rock’n’roll. I guess it sold because we had sent the singles over there and the right people got them and wrote about them. There were also, around 1977-78, big articles over there about the Boston music scene, and they talked a lot about the Boom Boom Band, garage records… I think that’s what started it. It’s great to be popular in your home town, but imagine a foreign country. It’s crazy. And they’re only going by records. I make records and they’re accepted in another place. I’m conveying my thoughts and getting something across, which is something you always hope for when you do it. FF: Do you think your record sounds different than a lot of things today? Willie: No, not to me, because I see where it’s coming from and the influences. Basically, it’s rock’n’roll with Latin-American overtones. The freedom of jazz with rock’n’roll rhythms.
FF: Although it may be hard to tell because the LP just came out domestically, do you feel you get better promotion overseas? Willie: I haven’t actually witnessed the promo there, but it gets press and I hear that when it came out, you know, it was in stores with big displays and all that. I had that with the first Boom Boom Band album [Willie Alexander and the Boom Boom Band – Ed.], but this is different.
FF: What do you think when you look back and listen to the Boom Boom album? Willie: It’s kind of weird. I don’t play it that much at all. I was real close to it then and I’m so far from the person singing sometimes. Although I know it was me and I’d never go back on anything I ever did, I can just see it differently now. Even with the solo LP sometimes – but if I’d stayed in the studio, the record wouldn’t be out now.
FF: Do you feel that it’s a valid piece of history? A stepping stone? Willie: Sure, because the songs needed to be out. There’s a few I’d like to even record again, I don’t know when.
FF: Is there a real obsession to get certain songs out on an actual piece of vinyl? Willie: Yes. I look at an old song and think, gee, I never recorded that and I should. Sometimes, I forget my thoughts. It really makes it final. Sometimes, I think I’m not that prolific. I have to look in old notebooks, but when I look around, at one point I had, like, 100 songs, but I lost that list. When I rewrote it, I only had 30. A lot I forget. We do 22 in the band right now. I don’t finish things right away. I write bits and pieces and they eventually fall into place. Some of the riffs, especially on “Take Me Away” (on the solo LP), I’ve been fooling with for 10 years. It changes when it’s done live, as well. I went in the studio for the wild and crazy changes. People either like it or they don’t. It doesn’t represent my whole life or anything, just a small part of it.
FF: What are your lyrical influences? Willie: Everyday life, all the thoughts that run through my head. It is amazing when you’re thinking of something and it’s that good that you say, “That’s a song!” I’ve got dozens of notebooks with lines in them. You’ve got to exercise your thoughts. The next project for me will no doubt sound much different than this. They’ll be a constant thread running through it all – me, and my trademarks through the years.
FF: How do you think fans will take to the constant changes? Willie: I’m not sure, especially new fans. What they think of the solo LP. It’s all a constant progression or digression. I stick with a number of some things so well, the really heavy beat for starters. It’s easy for me to adapt any of my songs for the unit I’m in at the moment. Or drop the song maybe, or the band changes the song to fit them. It’s fun. I know what to look for in musicians now. I’ve been around a long time. It all evolves. It depends on the song itself.
FF: Do any of the others in the band write songs? Will they get filtered in? Willie: Mathew writes a lot of great songs. I don’t’ know if I could do someone else’s material. We do a few covers, you never know, it’s always possible. I like it better if they’ve been dead for 20 years.
FF: Do you view the band as a long-term project, or do you like variations? Willie: It’ll be a long-time thing for a while. It’s just starting so I can’t see any end. I can see recording with them; other things I want to do solo. Both, I guess. It’s all a very comfortable atmosphere.
FF: What are some of your upcoming plans for the future? Willie: Rochester, New York, Saturday. No, seriously, video I’m quite interested in. It’s all exciting to think about, all the open options. I have ideas for videos, nothing really formulated as of yet. We did a few with the Boom Boom Band and they were horrible. I said, “Next…”
FF: What is your driving force after all these years? Willie: I really like to do it; I can’t picture myself doing anything else. It’s all new to me now, with the band. I’m also a little more cautious. I know what I don’t want. It’s a new ballgame and it's scary sometimes. But so is crossing the street.
FF: Is success all that important to you Willie: Right now, to me, I feel as though I already have it. Any little thing that happens grouped together is success. I wouldn’t mind having a hit record. That means my ideas have corresponded with so many more people, but I have to keep my credibility. I mean, I still think of having a hit record after all this time in music. The audacity of myself, sometimes. That may be the force.
FF: How did you feel about your first comeback show at the Paradise [Boston] this year when it sold out and you got a standing ovation? What were you thinking? Willie: I was stunned. It was wild and great. It becomes unreal – I was extremely happy, especially since I’ve been out of it for a while. It made it all worthwhile for me as a person. That’s why I do it all. I still get nervous that no one will show up. When I reflect back on it as a whole, I really feel proud. I keep my fingers crossed at all times. If I didn’t get a response, I wouldn’t do it. I’d stop. It makes it all seem right.
FF: Why do people go to see you? What do you think it is? Willie: It’s hard to say, it’s all still a fantasy to me, the whole rock’n’roll trip, and going on stage. It’s real life and I’m still getting used to it. I worry if I’ll still be popular the next day. I had to learn to cope with it all.
FF: Are you self-motivated? Willie: Yes, I think so. I probably need a push here and there. If I decide to do something, I do it, and vice versa. The fantasy is all real now, yet it still surprises me to walk out on a stage or have things click at rehearsal. The element of suspense keeps me going. Sometimes, I think, “Oh, this can’t last.” It’s already gone so much longer than I thought it would in the beginning. Thank God, it’s happening.
FF: Do you think that you settling down to your personal life made your music settle as well? That you were more in control of both? Willie: Yes. They both interacted with each other, I think. It helped the music. I feel very happy and content at the moment. There's always some days, but – it all balances out. I was really screwed up before. There’s a fine line between being in and out of control. I guess I label it: The Edge. I believe I’m on the right track now. It’s kind of like that old John Sebastian song, “Do You Believe in Magic?” That’s what music is all about.
Don't think I was acting so hysterically But I didn't see a thing until it came… Coz when I’m disconnected from the diving wheel I’m only half the man I should be Metal hitting metal is all I feel… Crawling from the wreckage… – Graham Parker
January 19, 2010, at around 3:30 PM, was similar to many other days: I received a call from my partner asking me to pick her up at work. Got to the designated spot, and waited. When she came out of the building, I pulled into the road that would take me to the main intersection home.
[My car a couple of years ago during a road trip to central Pennsylvania] At that corner, one can either go straight, where there is a light, or make a right turn into a separate merging lane heading west that ends in a sign to yield to oncoming traffic. We were having a light conversation about the day, when I signaled right and slowed down into the turning lane, coming nearly to a standstill. Then I heard my partner say, “Oh, my God!” Out of the corner of my eye, like in those commercials, I saw the front of a Windstar van two inches from my face.
Bam!
His van hit my car in what is known as a “T-Bone,” where his nose plows into the side of my car. In fact, to do this, he had to go over a raised pavement island divider between the lane going straight and the one I was in going right. The guy hit my poor 2001 Nissan Altima Limited Edition so hard, that he moved our car out of the lane and against a construction chain link fence about 10 feet away.
On impact, my head bounced off the window and my side jammed into the arm rest, as my head was whipped to the side. My partner banged her left side into the console. All of this happened, of course, in a matter of a split second.
We were dazed and probably in shock, though we did not lose consciousness. I turned to my partner and asked if she was okay, and she said an emotional “No,” but in the way she said it I knew it was not physical distress. I made sure our legs weren’t pinned or bones broken.
The man in the van jumped out and asked if we were okay. He could talk to me even though the window was closed, because he had dented the door so much, there was a gap on top, as much as it was crumbled on the bottom. In fact, he flat-on hit the brace between the back door and the front door, which probably saved our lives, but it was pushed in to where I could put my body against the door without having to lean to the left. The dashboard was broken in places, and the piece under the steering wheel was beneath my feet. I turned off the motor.
When he asked if I was okay, I was not going to say yes, because I was aware enough to know that what I said may matter later on, and if I said I was okay, he could claim I said that, and honestly, I didn’t know if I was just yet, so all I answered was, “I banged my head. Call the police.”
With some effort and with the aid of some passersby, I was able to open the door, though it would not close again. I could see the frame was buckled under the door in the shape of his fender. I also noticed that his van looked okay, other than a big dent on the side of his bumper.
He started gushing about how he was cut off my some woman and he was only going 50 kph (about 30 mph), which I just knew was bullshit, because there is no way he could have come that far, over that median, and pushed me that far with that much damage going only that speed. He seemed sober, but I was still trying to clear my head from its fog of the shock of it all.
A few people passing came over to check up on us, and asked if we were okay. My partner was not able to open her door because it was against the chain link fence, so she sat there quietly, gathering her wits. I responded honestly that I did not know, but repeated that I did bonk my head pretty hard, and would someone please call the police. A woman said she had called. We soon found out that she was the person who supposedly cut the guy off. Meanwhile, he kept going on and on about it, both apologizing and defending his actions to anyone who would listen, as he felt woozy from the accident, himself. He was definitely hyper, as though he had a lot of coffee, but did not appear to have been drinking alcohol.
Slowly we pieced together what had happened: The man in the van was heading west, in the center lane. He signaled to the right and moved into the right lane (were we were about to enter), and the signal stayed on. The woman was going east, and was turning into the street from we were coming out. Since his signal was still on, she figured he was going to turn into the side road, too. When she realized he wasn’t because he was going too fast to turn, she stopped. Out of the corner of the eye, he saw her, determined that she was going to hit him (which she wasn’t as she wasn’t moving by then), and he jerked the wheel to the right, sending him over the divider and into us.
We realized how luck this guy actually was, because usually this corner is packed with students from the local college, waiting for either a bus or to cross the street, and at the time of the accident, there was no one there. Providence, I guess.
After a few minutes, the police arrived and starting asking everyone questions. It was obvious that we were mere collateral damage, and we actually had nothing to do with the cause of the accident, just being in the wrong place. They continued to talk to the other two drivers while the ambulance arrived. The paramedics checked us over and determined we were okay, and so we declined going to the hospital.
I was a bit nervous about all that, since I had hit my head, so I asked if I should stay awake for a while rather than go to sleep; though I didn’t say it aloud, I knew that Dead Boys singer Stiv Bators had a similar thing happen to him in Paris, where he was hit by a car, went home without seeing a doctor, and then died of a brain hemorrhage. My dad died of a brain injury after he fell. The ambulance people were understanding, and they reassured me that I was not going to go into a coma since I did not have a concussion.
We both got out of the ambulance after wishes of good luck by the ‘medics, and we walked over to the police officer who was obviously in charge. He said he was willing to call us a cab, since our car was not able to be driven, and a tow truck had been called. As an alternative, he said that an officer could drive us home if we wanted to wait until the scene had been cleared by the tow truck. We decided on the latter, because we wanted to be there when they towed it off. Also, it’s not every day one gets to go home in the back of a police cruiser!
A flash of thought went through my mind, and I opened up the trunk and took out the recyclable carry bag we use to haul groceries (the grocery stores charge a nickel per plastic bag here, so most people use the reusable ones). Holding it open, I put the 30 or so CDs I had in the truck into the bag. The plastic case they were in was broken in numerous spots (after being hit at 30 miles an hour?). Then I went to the front, and pulled out whatever ones were there. Turning on the motor, with no problem (and it still sounded sweet), I rejected the CD still in the console (Monty Love’s Girls Are the New Boys), put it in its case, and then with the others in the bag. These were the most valuable thing (other than us) I had in the car, which was off to the police pound for eventual evaluation by SGI, the insurance company (Saskatchewan Government Insurance). Most of the CDs were indie and not easily replaceable, so I certainly did not want to take the chance of them disappearing (hey, I am from New York, after all). It would be days before my car would be able to be accessible to me again, and I knew it.
The guy with the Windstar, the officer stated, would most likely be charged as being at fault, because his story was the least credible between him and the other driver. Also, the ground was not slippery. That means not only would his insurance skyrocket, but since he was driving a company van, he would probably have to pay for the repairs on the van, whether the employer kept him on or not. When he started up the Windstar, the motor did not sound good. Perhaps it wasn’t too bad cosmetically, but there was definitely something wrong with it (I could see the radiator was crooked through the grill).
With the car towed off (charged to Mr. Windstar’s insurance), we were ushered into the back of the cruiser. Certainly, I can’t remember being in the back of one before. It was interesting to note that the seats were solid plastic and hard (and very uncomfortable), the windows were all covered with metal grill, and there were no door or window handles, so the back doors had to be opened from the outside. There were also a lot of scuff marks on the back of the seat in front of us, where someone (or many) kicked around in a violent fit. If you knew all this already, odds are you’ve been there. Anyway, we were home in less than 10 minutes.
After greeting the kitties and counting our blessings, we got down to business. This is what we knew: SGI may repair our car, or write it off as salvage. If they do repair it, they will only pay for two-thirds of what the car is “worth.” We went online to check out the actual value of our car, because odds are it will be written off considering the frame is dented. Though we couldn’t find any real information on Kelly’s Blue Book or anything like that (mostly you get ads when you search in Google for car info), but we did locate a car a year older than ours with a lot more mileage that had just been sold recently in the province, so we have an idea.
The next day came the call from the insurance company. KK (you may have noticed I have not been using names, because who knows what the legality of this is, and if it will go to court) asked me a bunch of detailed questions, including if I had checked and if I any idea what the car was worth; I informed her with what I found. She seemed nice, but a bit business-like. At some point, I asked about her last name, because I know of a musician here with the same last name. She said she was unrelated, but her husband probably is…”Does he play jazz?” she asked. I replied to the affirmative, and the conversation was a lot more relaxed on both sides after that. She said we could rent a car on the insurance of the guy who hit us for up to 7 days, if the car was fixable; otherwise we’d have to return the rental when we found out if our car was toast. She then gave us a couple of extra days if that happened to help give us time to find another car. As she was out on Friday and the adjuster wasn’t going to be looking at our car until late Thursday, we wouldn’t know until Monday, so we could have the rental car until at least then. After the adjuster looks at it, f the car is going to be repaired, they’ll take it right over to the shop. If it is not, they’ll take it over to the junkyard and we’ll get a permission slip to go and get the rest of our stuff out of it before they do whatever it is they’re going to do to it.
Thursday, we did a number of things to follow up. Taking my partner’s car, we drove to her doctor and she had a free exam to both check to see if she was really okay, and to officially document her injuries. The doctor said she would be sore, and would give her a complementary physiotherapy exam, but meanwhile take ibuprofen. Oh, and the doctor’s visit was free due to Marie’s health card. Then we went to a clinic, since I don’t have my health card yet, and paid $40 to see a doctor, who essentially told me I was in decent shape, but if I got worse, then I could get some physio; oh, and take ibuprofen, too, for a few days. A full exam for $40. It reminded me that I had gone for a flu shot in New York a couple of years ago when I was unemployed, and I was told at a clinic it was $80, but the bill came to $300 after the nurse gave me an pre-interview, the doctor examined me, and another nurse gave me the shot – all of which was charged separately (nurse / doctor / nurse / shot). My friend Joe Viglione recently also had a similar horror story: joevigupdate.blogspot.com. I don’t know why people keep saying Canadian health care doesn’t work, because it works a hell of a lot better than the one in the U.S. Go Obama.
After the doctor’s appointments, we went and rented a car. It’s a Ford Fiesta, and it is nowhere near as good as my car was/is, but I’m happy to have it for now; at least for a week anyway. I will find out the status of my car on Monday, and will update this blog, so if you’re interested, check it again later into the last week of January. If it is trashed, I’ll take some photos when we empty it out, and add it to this blog.
Pray for my Nissan.
Updated January 30, 2010
We received word the other day that my car is officially beyond repair. There was some haggling, but we got a decent (not great) price from the insurance for the car. Thing is, it had four new tires, a new battery, we had just added on day-running lights and a block heater for the motor, 70,000 miles, and always had it kept in good repair (including regular oil and greasing). The car ran like new. But three weeks after officially getting it into the country at very high cost, it’s gone. A few days after a hard snow, I was given permission to go down to the salvage yard to clear out my personal stuff. After finding the place, eventually, I was told I could only take my personal belongings and the license plate, but nothing that was part of the car (they resell the parts, which is how the insurance company gets their money back). I said I understood, and they told me where to find my baby (designated at F1).
Because the doors wouldn’t close, there was a pile of snow inside the car, especially on the drivers seat. Also, since it was so cold, the battery was dead, so I was glad I got out the CD from the player before they towed it away. First I cleaned out the trunk. There were some tools, a blanket, some cushions, tire irons (they pronounce it EYE-run here, rather than I-ern), and stuff like that to fill up two letter-size file boxes. I also packed up a large, black garbage bag to throw out. Then I took the maps off the back seat (two atlases and a book-style map of Saskatchewan my partner had bought me to help me figure out where the hell I was going. Then I cleared out under the seat (more garbage including a half-empty 1 liter ginger ale bottle that had been there a couple of years).
Next up was the consol between the front seats. The CDs were taken by me already, but there was an E-Z Pass (gotta return that someday, I guess) and a magnifying glass for the maps. Then I remembered the cigarette butt tray, where I kept toll money, and there were USD $6 in singles. What the hell, I also grabbed some loose tiny papers, such as toll receipts that are more than a year old. The last thing I took were the floor mats, as they were from our previous car (a Nissan Sentra) that had died near Rochester on the way to a Media Ecology Association conference, which is why we had bought this particular car.
Last thing I did before I left it was to talk to it, to say thank you for all the great times I had in it, taking photo excursions, driving to visit relatives, helping me take care of my dad by going shopping every week with him in it, and taking us across the continent to our new home.
I was, needless to say, feeling sad. I really loved that car, which my dad helped us pay for. It was in great shape and now it was salvage. And looking at it as I cleared stuff out, it was pretty obvious it could not be fixed, there was just too much damage. What kills me is that the two people that were actually the cause of all this get to drive their own cars home, and me, well…
Tomorrow, Sunday, I have to return the rental car. Then it’s the bus ($2.50 a ride) or hoofing it. Maybe we’ll get me a car in the Spring, but we’ll have to see.
While recording their LP, Let It Bleed (produced by Jimmy Miller), the first with Mick Taylor and their eighth in total, a lot of the ideas were from previous sessions, and Taylor was as much a session man as a key member. At this point, there is a discussion on the DVD about the influence of both Taylor and Altamont on the band (opposite poles, but both substantial).
Here, the documentary veers away from Taylor specifically and into the life of the band, when they realize that they were broke and kicked out Allen Klein, a lesson the Beatles had already learned. They start their own record company, attached to Ahmet Ertegun’s Atlantic Records. Their first release was Sticky Fingers, on which Keith was heavily influenced by U.S. country music via Gram Parsons (e.g., “Wild Horses”), much to Jagger’s dismay, according to this telling. This record also produced their monster hit “Brown Sugar.” Drugs started to make more of an appearance with the likes of “Moonlight Mile.” While Keith’s (and Brian before him) substance abuse is mention frequently in this, everyone else is left untouched. Whether Taylor (or the rest of the band) was imbibing is not a topic mentioned, but I wondered. 
Next up was Exile on Main Street (produced by Miller), like the Beatles’ White Album, sort of a conglomeration as much as anything else, created in the studio. It was started in the south of France, with the full band present, but thanks to a drug raid of Keff’s palace (which doubled as their recording studio) and a need to am-scray as ast-fay as ossibe-pay, Keith and Jagger went to L.A. by themselves, and recorded a bulk of the album using studio musicians, such as Parkins and Plummber. The sound ended up being arguably muddy, and many critics were lukewarm to it, but it is still considered by many to be the Stones’ best release. “Tumbling Dice” was the only cut that Taylor was given any writing credit for, on any album, a bone of contention with him (and rightfully so, as any band that has long guitar solos deserves to have the guitarist given writing credit). It’s at this point, also noted here, that the Stones – that is Keith and especially Jagger due in part to his marriage to Bianca Perez Morena de Macias (who is mentioned in passing) – became socialite butterflies who were know for, as they state here, “being famous for being famous” as much as being musicians.
Goat’s Head Soup, the last Miller produced for the band, is acknowledged by some of the critics here as having less soul, and rehashing of old ideas (one claims that “Dancing with Mr. D” is just a follow-up to “Sympathy for the Devil”), leaning more towards pop than rock, or as one critic here posits, “Where it all starts to go wrong.” It was a No. 1 album that had lukewarm critic enthusiasm, and one big hit: “Angie.”
For the It’s Only Rock ‘n Roll LP, Jagger and Richards produced it themselves as the “Glimmer Twins.” Many consider this their last album before they hit the skids, including some of the experts here (or, as one eloquently states, “they peaked”). But driven by lack of appreciation through being ignored for songwriting credit and tensions within the band, Taylor left after it was released to join the Jack Bruce Band (good luck with that!). 
