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December 14, 2011

"run rudolph run," 12/14/71, hill auditorium, ann arbor, MI

Download here. [MP3]

The Dead played "Run Rudolph Run" seven times between December 4th and 15th, 1971. Pigpen sang. The tune was a #69 hit for Chuck Berry in 1958, written by Johnny Marks and Marvin Brodie. Unquestionably the best Dead version is the second-to-last, from December 14th at the Hill Auditorium in Ann Arbor. They played it twice in Chuck Berry's hometown of St. Louis on December 9th and 10th, and it's too bad not one of those, but the first night in Ann Arbor has the best mix of any of them. Keith Godchaux's strident Johnnie Johnson-style piano is full and rich, like the familiar warm balance of Europe '72, Garcia's lines darting around it. Besides the following night, where he's too loud, Godchaux is buried in most of the other recordings, Garcia and Weir's guitars clanging against each other.

It's a showcase for Pigpen, returning to the band after sitting out the fall tour, the first sign of weakening for the 26-year old alcoholic, who would die less than two years later. At times on the December east coast run, 11 shows from Boston to Ann Arbor, Pig is spotty. In Boston, the band pulled out his show-stopping "Turn On Your Lovelight," and he faltered, unable to martial the gang into the weirdly psych-funk nooks they were often able to improvise behind semi-improvised patter about "box back knitties and great big noble thighs," and they only revisited it one other time on the trip.

But by the end of the run, he seems almost back to form, though the big closers wouldn't return with regularity until the band shuffled off to New York and then Europe the next spring. One lesson of my Dead listening project--revisiting every show close to its 40th anniversary, #deadfreaksunite, etc.--has been a constant reevaluation of the Dead as a working, aggressively evolving band, often marked by the unrelenting, constant expansion of their songbook. Most lately, this involved an appreciation of Pigpen's still very active role in '71 and '72. Even for Deadheads, Pig is sometimes easy to write off in these later years, so often relegated to un-mic'ed sidestage congas.

While he didn't exactly crank out tunes like Garcia and Weir, he had two new numbers to do for the December run, "Run Rudolph Run" and a new original, "Mr. Charlie," which would go along fine with "Empty Pages," introduced earlier in the year, had he not already abandoned that. Early '72 would see two more Pig tunes go into rotation, "Chinatown Shuffle" (whose pick-up would get jacked for "U.S. Blues") and the lost masterpiece "The Stranger (Two Souls in Communion)." Even after he left the road following the Europe '72 tour, he continued to write, producing a set of home demos, which has circulated as Bring Me My Shotgun.

With its "Love & Theft"-like cadences on half-sensical tumbles about some heretofore unknown reindeer named Randolph (?!) and archaic constructions like "girl-child" and "boy-child," it's sort of mystifying that avowed Chuck Berry freak Bob Dylan didn't record "Run Rudolph Run" for his Christmas in the Heart. But it's a nice little novelty from the Dead's brief two-keyboard lineup, where Pigpen and Godchaux got a nice Hudson/Manuel-like B3/piano blend on some of the recordings from those tours. Though Pig doesn't play organ here, Godchaux's presence gives him the chance to belt over straight-up boogie-woogie piano, a rare pleasure in itself only possible during these few tours.

All of which totally ignores the song's holidayness, which really has no narrative and is, in an admirably teen-pop way, more about describing the apparent giddiness of the Christmas season in the post-War years. "Shopping is a feeling," David Byrne said later in True Stories, and there's maybe some of that in here (infused with holiday spirit, no doubt), with the subtle '50s consumerism behind lyrics like "all I want for Christmas is a rock & roll electric guitar" and the girl-child's wish for "a little baby doll that can cry, scream, and wet" (plus perfectly period automotive dreams about Santa speeding down a freeway). Not that Pigpen was signifyin' or anything. He was--and thanks to the perpetual present tense of the recording is--just singing. The Dead may've been hippies, but by late 1971, they were mostly just a rock band.

"Run Rudolph Run"--at least the fifth or sixth Berry tune in rotation--is Pig in his element, and a vibrant little tick in Dead history. But it's something maybe even more unique than that. In the Dead's massive unofficial catalogue, it's one of the very few versions of anything I'd happily call "definitive" with any measure of confidence. And, hey, that's something to feel good about this holiday season.

September 7, 2010

all tomorrow's parties, today.

The most stunning thing about the decay of Kutsher's Country Club, the site of the American edition of All Tomorrow's Parties, is perhaps its sheer attention to detail. In every corner of its 1,500-acre spread, something askew: peeling paint on a windowsill, an abandoned skating rink (the Kutsher's Teenareena, per the signage, replete with Olympics logo), an out-of-order tag on a pull-out bed, a flooded baseball diamond, a stairwell with non-chronological floor numbers, a fire door off its hinges next to a forgotten and overflowing room service cart. One friend got stuck in the elevator, the car stuttering 250 times between the fifth and sixth floors before righting itself. We took the stairs for the rest of the weekend.

The result is one of the most singular places one can imagine seeing music. The fact that the Stardust Room, the site of All Tomorrow's Parties main stage, is also a great-sounding, well-designed space--with gentle tiers, a spacious floor, and a twinkling moonscape on the wall--is gravy. Amid the decay, though, it also felt a bit like abuse. We wandered Kutsher's freely, removing the cover of a jacuzzi, discovering a working sauna in the women's locker room, totally unsure where we were allowed to be. In the basement, we found a stash of Paul Anka and Helen Reddy eight-track tapes in the winding, cluttered hallways beyond a room of ancient exercise bikes and stairmasters.

And the music? A peculiar continuum of nostalgia and indie noise of the moment. Headlining on Friday, Iggy Pop--63 and ripped--pulled his version of the James Brown cape routine: constantly diving headlong into the audience, only to be grabbed instantly by his own security guard and yanked back. There was a lot of crowd surfing and stage diving, for that matter. Hard to say where that act falls in the nostalgia continuum, but it's back with a vengence. The next night, also featuring a host of stage interlopers, Sonic Youth--in their classic quartet lineup, with Mark Ibold still on Pavement detail--played a set entirely of '80s tunes. Much like their Prospect Park gig over the summer, the concept scans uncomfortably, but was/is bitching in practice, with fierce improv, drawn-out transitions, and the usual explosive arrangements. Thurston Moore's solo Sunday set, in the 1:45 pm bloody mary slot, hit the spot, too: three new tunes, played on a 12-string acoustic, followed by a Northampton Wools improv with Bill Nace.

The pleasures of ATP go on and on: a surprisingly incredible DJ set by hip-hop inventor Kool Herc late night at the poolside bar, filled with deep cuts, killer transitions, overlaid beats, and a few classics; the ear-blowing wall of sound belonging to the Sunn O)))/Boris supergroup with power chords cascading from amp stack to amp stack like minimalist blocks of orchestral sound; a mellow pick-up hardball game hosted by Shellac's Bob Weston in a pasture abutting the flooded baseball diamond, bordered by a brook, and a shady knoll for spectators; the room-clearing obliteration of Lee Ranaldo and Alan Licht's Text of Light; Wooden Shjips' surf-kraut jams. Besides the occasional six-flight stair-climb, there were few downsides. (The second stage is too low, impossible to see the musicians except from the front row.)

Even the lack of internet and Twitter access was kind of nice. I got my news from the New York Times for the first time in years (and remembered my great uncle Herb's sage summary of their sports section: "yesterday's scores tomorrow"). Hell, if I'd had Twitter access, I probably wouldn't have written a blog post.

No corporate sponsorship, good vibrations, and arguably the most fun music festival in the world.

Rebecca Kutsher:


February 27, 2008

sudden ylt

Yo La Tengo at Rififi
Invite Them Up with Eugene Mirman and Bobby Tisdale
26 February 2008
no Georgia, Todd Barry on drums

Come On Up (The Young Rascals) (download)
Mr. Tough
Big Day Coming (fast)
Bobby's Girl (Lesley Gore) (download)

October 22, 2007

yo la tengo in port washington, 10/19

"Ripple" - Yo La Tengo (download)
recorded 19 October 2007, Landmark on Main Street, Port Washington, NY

(file expires October 29th)

Yo La Tengo at Landmark on Main Street
Port Washington, NY
19 October 2007
Chris Brokaw opened.

The Landmark being (as we discovered) across the street from Finn MacCool's, the watering hole of choice for the 1986 Mets, many of who resided in Port Washington, we naturally had to toast Danny Heep en route to the show. Via Jeff Pearlman's The Bad Guys Won:


Strawberry did much of his damage at Finn MacCool's, a tavern in Port Washington where many of the Mets hung out. One night Henry Downing, the bar's manager, concocted a drink for the Mets that he named The Nervous Breakdown. It was a potent combination of vodka, cranberry juice, tequila, and schanpps, and the twelve Mets sitting around the table eagerly devoured pitcher after pitchers. Among the participants were Ojeda, Mitchell, Dykstra, and Backman -- guys who could hold their own. Yet the one who drank the most was Strawberry. 'I remember he really took to that,' says Connie O'Reilly, MacCool's owner. 'I guess he liked the taste.' ... 'The next afternoon we were watching the game from the bar, and the broadcaster said Darryl wasn't playing,' O'Reilly says. 'They showed him sitting on tbe bench... something about a twenty-four-hour virus.'

Tom Courtenay
Beanbag Chair
Let's Save Tony Orlando's House
Fog Over Frisco
Mr. Tough
Ripple (Grateful Dead)
Surfin' With the Shah (The Urinals)
Cone of Silence
Sloop John B (trad/Beach Boys)
Black Flowers
Luci Baines (Arthur Lee)
Decora
I Found A Reason (Velvet Underground)
Oklahoma USA (The Kinks)
Story of Yo La Tango
Detouring America With Horns
Speeding Motocycle (Daniel Johnston)
You Can Have It All (George McCrea)

*(encore, with Chris Brokaw on guitar)*
A House Is Not A Motel (Arthur Lee)
Tell Me When It's Over (Dream Syndicate)
I Feel Like Going Home

October 8, 2007

yo la tengo at the new yorker festival, 10/6

"Autumn Sweater" - Yo La Tengo (download)
"This Man He Cries Tonight"- Yo La Tengo (download)
recorded 6 October 2007, Brooklyn Lyceum, Brooklyn, NY

(files expire October 15th)

Yo La Tengo at Brooklyn Lyceum
6 October 2007
New Yorker festival
between song Q&As moderated by Ben Greenman

The Cone of Silence
Stockholm Syndrome
Story of Yo La Tango
Magnet (NRBQ)
Madeleine
Autumn Sweater
I Heard You Looking
Pass the Hatchet, I Think I'm Goodkind
This Man He Cries Tonight (The Kinks) (live debut)
Sugarcube

October 3, 2007

"in the craters of the moon" & "autoclave" - the mountain goats

"In the Craters of the Moon" - The Mountain Goats
"Autoclave" - The Mountain Goats
recorded 2 October 2007, Studio B, Brooklyn, NY

[Downloads removed at the polite request of JD.]

Mostly, this was an experiment to see how long it would take to record a show with the aforementioned iTalk, up it to my computer, and extract a few segments, as well as to see how much juice it would take, both in terms of power and memory. The answers: with laughable ease and laughably little.

So, here are two new Mountain Goats songs, performed this evening at Studio B in Brooklyn, a dance club a few blocks from the kielbasa parlors and bright-eyed/enchanting Polish girls of Greenpoint. The frame and drama are pure Mountain Goats, as hard-boiled and stylized as Bukowski or the Coen brothers. Some lines, especially on "In the Craters of the Moon," feel like stock John Darnielle: "I think I'm gonna crack, I can't live like this any more." Others are perfect and inventive: "We swim in the dark until our bodies are numb, clandestine (?) rats in the moonlight, too far from the shore."

Differentiating good & bad lines seems a tad silly, though, especially at this stage of the game. Darnielle found his voice a long time ago, and he's sticking to it. They're new songs. If you like the Mountain Goats, you'll probably dig 'em. (An autoclave, as Darnielle pointed out, is a device built to sterilize medical instruments and kill all lifeforms, except -- as recently discovered -- one particular type found at the bottom of the ocean, near volcanic seabeds, which not only survives the process, but multiplies.)