New Orleans In The Motor City: Why Didn't I Get The Memo?

 

In 1964, as The British Invasion started to take over the U.S.A., the New Orleans music scene was starting struggle. According to New Orleans legend Deacon John Moore, no one wanted rhythm and blues, or horn players. "Everybody had big amps and guitars, and long hair like sissies." So, many of the great session men were looking for work. Moore, Leo Nocentelli, Jo Jones, Johnny Adams, Smokey Johnson, Earl King, Reggie Hall, George French, and Eskew Reeder, aka Esquerita, accepted an offer from Berry Gordy to go to Detroit and cut some sides, as Motown wanted to add some New Orleans flavor to their roster. Allen Toussaint was asked, as well, but was still in the Army.

If you believe the story that Esquerita told Billy Miller of Kicks Magazine, these musicians went into Gordy's studio and recorded from 9AM to 9PM everyday for weeks, while Diana Ross and Smokey Robinson hung around and watched. 

And then, nothing was ever released. Esquerita claims, Gordy simply wanted all of this music to study and steal for his artists. If you notice, this is the year Motown's sound changed, from the cha-cha of Smokey Robinson's "Shop Around" and Mary Wells' "Two Lovers" to the heavy beat and driving rhythms of "Heat Wave" and "Nowhere To Run." 

There was no music to prove any of this until 1996 when three Earl King sides appeared on a Motown compilation called "Blue Evolution."

These Earl King tracks sound like classic King recordings that might have appeared while he was signed to Imperial Records, as opposed to anything on the Motown label. But knowing that these New Orleans legends laid down hours and hours of music in the Motor City kinda blows my mind.

Weeded Out

 

 

I know some of you, like me, love The Roches, while some of you just don't get them. I understand.
But I woke up this morning thinking of this song and so here it is. 

Bruce: Tracks II Overview

 

 

Before I go any further, I need to say this. $270 for seven CDs and $335 for nine slabs of new vinyl is a damn scam.

As for the music inside the new Bruce Springsteen box, here's what I think after one very focused pass through the entire set.

 

 

 

 

 

 

L.A. Garage Sessions '83-****

I was familiar with a bunch of these tracks from various bootlegs. But together in one place in excellent quality is a revelation. Loved this.

 

 

 

 

Streets Of Philadelphia Sessions-***1/2

I wasn't a fan of the Oscar winning song, so an entire album of synths and drum loops didn't sound appealing. I am surprised at how much I enjoyed this. At least five great tracks.

Bruce Springsteen- Faithless- **1/2

Record Three from the box did little for me. Any one of these songs might have been more effective on an E Street Band album. But ten similar sounding, moody spirituals was quite frankly, a bore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bruce Springsteen- Somewhere North Of Nashville-***

Record Four has a lot of twang but not much originality. It doesn't feel like a country record that came naturally to Bruce. It has a few moments, but just adding pedal steel to standard rock and roll tracks doesn't make a very convincing country album. The sweeping drama of the Laurel Canyon sound on "Western Stars" is a much better record.

 

 

 

 

Bruce Springsteen- Inyo-***1/2

Record Five from Tracks II, "Inyo," has a wonderful sound throughout. It's not all mariachi, but Bruce sounds more comfortable here than he does singing on that "Nashville" record. My one complaint is his over-affected vocals. He lays on the Okie so hard on some tracks, I can't follow the stories he's telling, which I imagine would make some of these tracks more powerful to my ears. Still, I enjoyed "Inyo." Nice surprise.

 

 

  

 

 

Bruce Springsteen- Twilight Hours-***

The sixth LP in the box is the most frustrating. I can't help but think this material and some of the arrangements would have made a great Scott Walker record. But sadly, the only chance Bruce takes here is recording an album out of his wheelhouse. Otherwise, most of these songs go nowhere. Like the "Nashville" record in this box, he just doesn't sound comfortable with this Bacharach-esque material. It doesn't suit him. It's not all bad, though "September Kisses" might be one of the worst songs in his entire catalogue. Awful, trite lyrics sung to the melody of Don Ho's "Tiny Bubbles." I am keeping it at three stars because I think a number of songs could be pulled and enjoyed on their own, specifically "Sunday Love," "Lonely Town" and "Follow The Sun."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bruce Springsteen- Perfect World- ****

The final installment of lost albums wasn't actually lost at all. This is a collection of stray tracks put together by Bruce specifically for this boxed set. Some tracks were recorded for but left off of "Wrecking Ball." It also includes a trio of Joe Grushecky co-writes that appear on Grushecky albums, as well as being performed live by both. It's a hodgepodge for sure, but it's also the closest entry to sound like a Bruce/E Street record. More than a few really solid tracks, including "The Great Depression" which sounds like Bruce trying his best to write a Dylan song. Overall, a satisfying spin, though again, it makes sense why these songs remained in the vault.

 

 

Shoot The Piano Player

I started taking piano lessons when I was 22 years old. An impatient and smug 22 year old.

Bad idea.

I had grown up around keyboards. My Uncle Bob had a piano. My Uncle Al had a piano and an organ, and I played both all of the time. I lived just a few blocks away, but I spent more time in my cousin's house than I did mine, and while there, I sat behind those eighty-eights, whether my family liked it or not.

Along with my drums, I had an organ as a kid, a pretty cool toy made by Magnus, that I sat behind like a 7 year old Dr. Phibes, sight reading chords and melodies from music books with big print and colored notes, that featured songs from traditional crap like "The Yellow Rose Of Texas," to standards like “Autumn Leaves” and Beatles’ classics like "Yesterday" and "In My Life.”

My best friend and bandmate had a piano in his apartment. My first roommate had a piano, and it was the first thing I noticed when deciding if I should move in. Once I did, we both played it with great enthusiasm, pounding out the chords by ear to Todd Rundgren and Elton John songs.

In my heart and very thick head, I had been playing piano for 15 years when my piano teacher arrived for my first lesson.

Thomas Maraldo arrived on time one summer afternoon. Not more than two or three years older than I was, he introduced himself as “Mr. Maraldo.”

I knew this venture wouldn’t last long.

 "Do you want to do this?"
"Yeah, sure."

 "NO! Do you want to do this?"

 "What the fuck is this, 'Hamburger Hill?' What’d I just say, asshole. I asked you here!" 

 
Okay, I didn’t say that, but I was thinking it. I was also thinking I should demand he call me Mr. Nunziato, but I didn’t say that out loud either. 

 "Yes," I said out loud."

 "Okay, good."

Then, instead of being taught a few shortcuts on how to play Chopin's "Prelude In E Minor" or Side Two of Emerson, Lake and Palmer’s “Brain Salad Surgery,” I was told to play "bum bum bum," a C major triad, with the pinky, middle finger and thumb of my left hand for an hour, an exercise to teach your left hand to become independent of your right. I wasn’t a complete idiot. I knew I wasn’t going to be Liberace after my first lesson, but I really did believe I was ahead of the game by being able to play full rock and roll songs, not to mention  “The Yellow Rose of Texas” with the few dozen chords I did know. 

I didn't want to do this. Not THIS. This was school all over again. I played “bum bum bum” for a minute, if that long, before I asked him to leave. He thought I was kidding. He laughed to himself and said, “Okay, continue.” He stopped laughing when I said, “I’m not kidding. I’m not playing ‘bum bum bum’ for an hour. I made a mistake. I’m sorry. I can’t do this…Tommy.”

His face said, "Don't call me Tommy." I felt horrible for a second. But I stood my ground. 

He left, crushed.

I was satisfied pounding out reasonably recognizable versions of Elton’s "Levon" and Bowie's "TVC 15" using the chords I knew. My piano lessons lasted two minutes.

I can still fake Floyd Cramer flourishes in the studio, if I have the chords in front of me. But let's face it. I am not a piano player.

Thomas Maraldo called me a few days later.

"Do you want to try again?"

I didn't.

 
"No, but thanks for calling."

I regret not following through, but as a lost and perpetually fidgety 22 year old, I simply didn’t have the patience or foresight to think any further than the joint I was going to light up right after work.

I know it's not healthy having regrets, but I often think if I just played "bum bum bum" for that hour I could have been playing "Tarkus" in some shitty ELP cover band today, you know, assuming I wasn't serving time for assaulting Mr. Tommy Maraldo with The Complete Works Of Beethoven.

"Bum bum bum." 

Songs Of The Week, 2025: 6/21-6/27

 

Force Of Nature- Pearl Jam
Sahara- Mac Rebennack
Officially- Lloyd Parks
Need You- Prince La La
She's My Girl- The Babys
I'm With Her- Rhett Miller
Where Are We Going?- Marvin Gaye

zip 

Dose Of Reality/Weekend Mix

I subscribe to a fair number of YouTubers who post nearly every day and I wonder how they do it.
They get paid. I get it, but still...it's a shit ton of work.
I've posted on Burning Wood enough to have low expectations, and savor the nuggets of musical camaraderie when they appear. There's usually at least one, but I'm constantly going back in and editing while monitoring the viewership. Sometimes it's crickets.
And then there's life to live in these fairly fucked up times.

"Miserable bastard this guy......says he wants this site to be a respite and proceeds to moan about his business, his life, other people he encounters, etc. This guy's a black hole that makes Lidia Soprano seem like Suzy Sunshine. Brace up my man and strap on some nuts.....every moment of every day is a gift and a wonder. Wake up tomorrow and make the changes in your life that allow you to appreciate the gift of life you have. Stop whinging and whining like an eight year old girl whose parents took away her iphone."

When Sal let this one go to publish, I knew it was serious. I commented,

"You deserve the break you need". Then emailed Sal,

"I don't know how you do it. I'd recently noted to self that it had been awhile since you'd taken a break.
Feel free to vent here. I've filled in for a time in the past, and could do so again. -BBJ"

Sal answered, "I won't overstay my welcome to vent, but I'll say these few things.."

None of which I'll repeat here. Sometimes life delivers a perfect storm of circumstance requiring a break in routine monotony.

Then I commented anonymously,

"At first I thought your comment might be satire, as it's such trollery you'd have to be an enormous asshole if it wasn't. I'd say you're the miserable bastard."

That's my story, and I'm sticking with it.

Don't forget to comment, and hit the "Donate" button.

Google DoseofReality and all you get are websites educating the public about opioids.

Fitting somehow. Total downer.

***********************************************************************************

Weekend Mix/Brian's Summer Retreat

I got a notification from TTL(TurnTableLab) about the re-release of "SMiLE" vinyl. Within 3 minutes I'd ordered a copy (limit 2), and 5 minutes emailed Sal. I know a lot of musicians and record fiends and he is top tier in both regards. And on this subject in particular, he is the first to know. By the next day it had already sold out. My copy is scheduled for delivery today, and I'll be listening to it while finishing up this post.

"SMiLE" has been some the most important music to me since first encountered in 1990.
I had always loved Good Vibrations, Surf's Up, both song and album, but generally disliked the Beach Boys otherwise. I grew up surfing in SoCal, and we thought they were a joke at that point. I never play Pet Sounds.
It represented a monumental paradigm shift in musical influences, and one of the most elusive vinyl scores of my life if you consider the big "SMiLE" picture.
I first became interested in the story back in 1978 when I read The Rolling Stone Illustrated History of Rock and Roll while attending San Diego State University. It suggested that Brian had erased or destroyed all the tapes. In the early 1991, when the catalog started turning up on cd, bonus tracks and further research revealed parts of "SMiLE" hiding in plain sight. I soon found bootleg copies, read a couple books, bought Brian's 2004 finished version, downloaded the 2011 box set, and am thrilled to finally get a legit vinyl copy.

I posted this Weekend Mix 7 years ago, on June 29, 2018. In many ways it's a personal "Best Of The Beach Boys". Note that nothing from "Pet Sounds" or before makes the cut.

Brian's Summer Retreat

Enjoy!

-BBJ

Quinn Martin Epilogue

Top Left:
Song Of The Day
This comes from a number of places. It's always inspired. It only occasionally gets noticed.

Middle Left:
Reggae Record Of The Week
This is a lead balloon, but I did it because a couple of kind souls said that I should. Crickets.

Next:
Jazz Record Of The Week
Again, another kind suggestion. Again, no one seems to care. I might as well highlight "Condiment Of The Week." Maybe some piccalilly or chow-chow would stir some interest. This is dead air.

CHAT BOX:
That's no one's fault. Some days it works. Most days it doesn't.

I WANT YOUR RECORDS:
That link has been implemented for years. I've had three people contact me since 2021. My business is over. But you already heard that tale.

Top Right:
The Best Thing I Listened To Yesterday
I loved this idea. It was MY idea, but still, it seems to still confuse a few people. Sadly, only a few people ever say anything about it.

Today's Cover Version:
I guess readers like this because I see the songs on their blogs. You'd never know it though on these pages.
(See: Hat Tip)

Now Playing:
This is turning into a better place than Burning Wood. There are only a few of us commenting, but it seems sincere. It's fun, at least.

Help Is Not Mandatory:
That seems to be the one thing everyone agrees on. That button never gets pushed. But hey, it's NOT mandatory. But neither is agonizing over this fucking place. I'm tired. 

I've posted about power pop, heavy metal, reggae, New Orleans funk, swamp pop, prog rock, classic rock, jazz, glam, soul, zydeco, punk, thrash, hip-hop...there is something for everyone here. Yet at best, activity tops at a B minus. Most of the time it's a very quiet and discouraging D.

I've dug deep, trying to find music that might excite. I can't just post about the ten worst Dylan songs or the five best Stones songs about morphine simply to rile people up for comments. 


This is a difficult time for many of us. I understand. But this place is supposed to be a respite, not just for you, but for me as well. If it fails to be that, then I have no need to try so hard or care as much. 

In other news, I took a fall this morning while crossing Ditmars Blvd. My shopping cart hit a snag in the concrete. It toppled forward with me right behind it. People literally stepped over me and my boxes, which were strewn about in the middle of the street. Not a single person offered a hand. I think that was a sign. 
 

You're on your fucking own. 

Peace out.