Tampa Calling

Here are quotes that I couldn’t fit into my new music feature, “Amanda Shaw, Pretty girl: But she’s selling her music, not her looks.” Click the link for the story, info on the 18-year-old, New Orleans-based, Cajun-pop luminary’s Friday (Aug. 8) gig at Skipper’s Smokehouse and to hear samples from Shaw’s latest album, Pretty Runs Out (Rounder).

Me: How’s it going today? Are you at home in New Orleans?

Shaw: Yep, I’m at home, getting ready for the trip. I’m so excited to come back to Florida.

Me: So, what’s a typcial day off at home like?

Shaw: I love music so much I’m always listening at the house or making plans to go and hear band. If I hang out at house I listen, sit around and watch movies and read books.

Me: What have you been watching lately?

I love Walk the Line. The first two seasons of The Office, Seinfeld and I Love Lucy. My mom teases me that I am Lucy because I’m always doing goofy things like her.

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The closing of Whaley’s Market in SoHo has me in a sad, blue funk. I live within short walking distance and eat/shop there regularly. The establishment’s $5 sandwiches — “ham and swiss on rye, lettuce, tomato, a little deli mustard, please” — are an integral part of my diet. Same goes for the Best of the Bay-winning, FREE crackers and dip.

I never once went home from there with a poorly prepared meal or deficient ham on rye. Great produce, too. The Figi apples were my favorite. The BBQ. The pulled pork sandwich. Good stuff all around. And never once had bad service at Whaley’s. That’s saying a lot, folks. I’m not easy to please. I’m going to miss that place. I could count on it, y’know?

In honor of this fine family business that’s been around for nearly 75 years, I’ll shed a manly tear and offer a Top 10 list. I’m in a sentimental mood. Frustrated at the things I can’t control. Yeah, well, like that sweet old song says, all I can do is write about it. Wish I could do more.

Top 10: Songs for Whaley’s

1. “All I Can Do Is Write About It,” Lynyrd Skynyrd

2. “No Surprises,” Radiohead

3. “Hey, That’s No Way To Say Goodbye,” Leonard Cohen

4. “Tears of Rage,” Bob Dylan

5. “(I Know) I’m Losing You,” The Temptations

6. “Are the Good Times Really Over (Wish a Buck Was Still Silver),” Merle Haggard

7. “Memory Motel,” The Rolling Stones

8. “Hello Goodbye,” The Beatles

9. “End of the Line,” Traveling Wilburys

10. “A Lot of Days Are Gone,” Hacienda Brothers

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I’m a big lyrics guy. If a track has vocals, I want to know each word being sung. Back in the pre-Internet era that constituted my youth, the artist either included lyrics with the CD/cassette tape (yeah, I’m that old), or you had to buy books like the one pictured, which I did as a teen. Geeky? Yes. But it’s the only way to properly appreciate songs like “Desolation Row,” “Idiot Wind” and “Jokerman.”

These days, all those classic Dylan lyrics can be found here on his official site. But not all artists are so open with their words. And it troubles me to learn that even less are including lyrics in the liner notes. Anyway, here’s the piece that prompted me to think of yet another way to work Dylan into a blog post.

From The Guardian:

In the old days it was easy: you bought your album, put it on your hi-fi and listened to it while reading the lyrics on the record sleeve. If you were being dumped, again, then knowing all the words to Toni Braxton’s Unbreak My Heart was important.

But a survey released yesterday shows that we are finding it harder to find accurate song lyrics - and we don’t like it.

The National Year of Reading campaign questioned 4,000 people to gauge the importance of lyrics and found that 90% felt that reading the words helped them gain a full appreciation of the music. But 50% said that lyrics are less accessible than they were five years ago, with fewer CDs now carrying the words.

Read article in ist entirety.

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I just got off the phone with William McKeen, author of the recently published Outlaw Journalist: The Life and Times of Hunter S. Thompson. It’s an excellent biography that strips away the cartoonish facade and offers an insightful look at the gifted writer and troubled man. McKeen, who hung with HST on several occasions, had this to say about their first encounter, which took place when McKeen was teaching at Western Kentucky University in the late 1970s and interviewed the Gonzo god on stage at a speaking engagement.

“I suppose like others, I expected a mad-dog character,” McKeen said. “In fact, [HST] was polite, quiet, soft spoken, almost shy guy … Walking up backstage, his body changed. He became this loping figure, jerking his head around, trying to play up to role … Like all Hunter speaking engagements, it was a disaster. But he had to do them. He made more money from those than writing. I discovered how he lived from paycheck to paycheck. Even when he was at the top fo his game he lived hand to mouth.”

Look for my McKeen piece in the CL book issue that hist newsstands Aug. 13.

McKeen will be at Inkwood Books, Tampa, 7 p.m., Thurs., Aug. 14.

Here’s a clip of an HST fave.

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Around the world in one night.

Here’s a sip of my latest Bar Tab column, which is part of our home issue:

My ideal vacation would be spent imbibing internationally: guzzling wine, beer and spirits in different corners of the globe, traveling in a well-stocked private jet, staying at four-star hotels, sleeping with new, sexy, exotic women each night (while I’m dreaming might as well go big, right?).

But that’s not an option unless you’re Cristiano Ronaldo, Mick Jagger or, maybe, James Bond — and then you have to worry about catching bad guys in between swilling vodka martinis and romancing femme fatales.

A facsimile of the globe-tippling experience (minus the random sex with beautiful, anonymous strangers) can be enjoyed at EPCOT, but trust me, the Disney police will throw your ass out for being visibly shit-faced faster than you can say “Zhim-iny fuggin’ Cricket.”

So, in keeping with the theme of this week’s home issue, your humble bar correspondent has provided guidelines for a killer house party with global flair. It’s a simple concept and will cost considerably less than a trans-Atlantic flight or a visit to the Mouse House. Just equip each room with alcohol, decorations and music specific to the country of your choice. Here are some suggestions:

Read “Drink local, Act Global” in its entirety. 

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OK, I’m going to milk this Ann Powers/American Idol debate for all I can, and then maybe even some more. Quick recap: It started with my July 27 post “Debating Ann Powers, poptimism and American Idol.” The Toronto Globe and Mail’s music critic commented, prompting “Response to American Idol post.”

My pal at the St. Petersburg Times‘ couldn’t resist the bait and that led to “Sean Daly writing about me writing about him.” The latest reason for me to continue writing about myself comes courtesy of Idolator:

Powers’ talk about covering American Idol prompted Wade Tatangelo of Tampa’s Creative Loafing to point out the monetary aspects of such coverage:

Ann Powers wrote a fine essay . . . But she failed to mention that a potential reason daily music critics like the St. Petersburg Times’ Sean Daly are covering cheap reality TV like American Idol (Powers does, too, but more likely by choice, see below) is because they are no longer in a position to tell populist/desperate editors “no.” Arts critics are being laid off at even a faster clip than reporters. In fact, there’s not a single music critic job opening at a daily newspaper in the entire nation. I know critics rank right alongside lawyers in the receiving of sympathy department, but it’s grim folks.

Carl Wilson of the Toronto Globe and Mail and the blog Zoilus weighed in on both Powers’ piece and Tatangelo’s reply:

Idolator concludes its post with a comment with which I’m totally in agreement:

Still, the most salient point of all may be from Marc Hogan’s Tumblr, in which the freelancer (best known for his contributions to Pitchfork) spells it out even more plainly:

As anyone who knows anyone who has blogged about “American Idol” knows, you get more clicks blogging about “American Idol” than blogging about Steinski, Harvey Milk, or Fleet Foxes. So it’s not as if the turning tide toward “poptimism” among critics who want to be paid for our work is entirely un-self-interested.

Here’s the entire Idolator post.

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This might be the coolest duet of my lifetime. Or at least of recent memory. Jack White and Alicia Keys are teaming up for the theme song to the upcoming James Bond flick Quantum of Solace, reports Billboard.com. White wrote, produced and will play drums on the song (which kinda makes you wonder how much drumming Meg actually does in the studio, right?). The tune is titled “Another way to Die.” The film opens November 7. The soundtrack drops Oct. 28. In keeping with my optimistic belief that the the White/Keys joint will totally rock here’s a tally of my favorite duets.

Top 10: Duets

1. “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough,” Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell

2. “Summertime,” Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong

3. “Pancho and Lefty,” Willie Nelson & Merle Haggard

4. “Under Pressure,” Queen and David Bowie

5. “Fairytale of New York,” Shane Magowan (The Pogues) with Kirsty MaColl

6. “Hunger Strike,”  Eddie Vedder and Chris Cornell (Temple of the Dog)

7. “Jackson,” Johnny Cash and June Carter

8. “Love Hurts,” Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris

9. “2 of Amerikaz Most Wanted,” 2Pac & Snoop Dogg

10. “Two Story House,” George Jones and Tammy Wynette

WHAT DID I MISS?

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St. Petersburg Times pop music critic Sean Daly is the only person in town who might have an ego the size of mine, which is saying something, because mine is bigger than a Buick. Since he revealed to everyone that we are friends, a fact I was hoping to keep secret, I guess I better acknowledge that I do like the dude, even though he bums way too many, um, sticks of gum from me (sorry, Sean). Anyway, here’s what Daly wrote about me writing about him:

 I probably shouldn’t like this. But I’m such a vainglorious headcase, I totally dig being talked about like a misunderstood beast roaming the Serengeti. My friend/bad-habit enabler Wade Tatangelo, music critic at Creative Loafing, the alt-weekly in town, debates why daily (and Daly) music critics bother writing about such pap as American Idol.

Click here to read Daly’s entire post.

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Here’s what Carl Wilson, an editor and critic at The Globe and Mail in Toronto, Canada, and the author of Let’s Talk About Love: A Journey to the End of Taste, had to say about my July 27 Ann Powers/American Idol post. He opined on his blog Zoilus:

At Creative Loafing’s Tampa Calling blog, Wade Tatangelo intelligently speculates that the trend may be economically based: With the crisis of critical authority brought on by the Internet and the (also ‘net-related) decline of newspaper sales, he says, critics are losing their jobs and those still employed are in more vulnerable positions: Maybe they take an interest in American Idol because they can’t afford not to? There’s something to that - I remarked in my book that unlike, say, an academic specialist, a working critic has to address a broad audience, and one who wrote only about the ultra-weird and never about the popular eventually would be out of a job. In the book I add “(rightly)”, but it’s debatable.

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On December 1, 1970, rock ‘n’ roll history was made at the old Curtis Hixon Hall in Tampa. For the first and, by most accounts, only time, Duane Allman performed on stage with Derek & the Dominos, the supergroup featuring Slow Hand and Sky Dog. Ronny Elliott promoted the concert and has an interesting story about a backstage guitar transaction between Elliott, Duane and Clapton. Anyway, the historic concert kicked off with “Layla” and following “Key to the Highway” concludes with “Let it Rain.” If you’re a classic rock geek like me, this was a huge night, one that makes me want to suit up for the time machine.

The double-disc bootleg, Soul Mates (pictured), features an audience recording of the show. Click here for info on downloading the recording.  The clip below is the audio from Duane and Eric jamming in Miami during the recording of Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs. It’s set to a nice montage of some rare Duane photos, like the one of him lounging with his baby brother Gregg Allman.

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Michael Hussey over at Pushing Rope has baited me into revealing some deep, dark secrets. “This is what happens when you make fun of a feminist’s undying love of Michael Jackson and Pussycat Dolls,” he writes. “The game is bloggers tag each other and name their five guiltiest musical pleasures on their iPod.” It’s Friday, I have a hangover. I’ll play along.

Top 5: Guilty Pleasures

1. “Dancing Queen,” ABBA

2. “Since U Been Gone,” Kelly Clarkson

3. “Milkshake,” Kelis

4. “How Do You Like Me Now?” Toby Keith

5. “Sugar, Sugar,” Archies

WHAT ARE YOUR GUILTY PLEASURES?

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Does this mean I’m getting old? Lately, as I’ve been flipping through stations on the radio, I’ve heard a lot of songs by bands that I enjoyed as a teenager playing on classic rock station 102.5 The Bone.

“Come on, I’m only 31! This can’t be considered classic rock,” I plead to the stifling air in the car’s cabin the first time I heard The Bone play a Metallica tune.

That’s only how it started. Metallica? OK, I guess. I mean, they’ve been together since the early ’80s and burst onto the scene in ‘83 with Kill Em’ All. I guess a band that’s been around that long could be considered a “classic.” After all, it was 25 years ago. (Hard to believe, right?)

But then I was even more alarmed when I started hearing bands from the ’90s being passed off as classic rock: Stone Temple Pilots, Nirvana, and Pearl Jam, among others. I was so freaked out I almost stopped listening to the radio. But then I realized I would be listening to those same bands on CD (in my car) or on tape (at home; yes, I still have a tape collection for some reason), and it was too late to stop the “am-I-really-getting- old-enough- for-this-to-happen-to-me?” question from entering my head.

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