Seven Is a Jolly Good Time

"Canterbury" style prog rock is notable for its frequently self-referential joke content: songs about singing, notes about notes following notes. These lyrics, for example:

"This is the second verse, the second verse, maybe the last one, or maybe the chorus... or perhaps it's a bridge... or just a-nother... key change [song changes key]" (Robert Wyatt)

Or this intro from the first Hatfield and the North LP:

Here's a song to begin the beginning
a few notes which are arbitrary
but we try our best to make it sound nice
and hope that the music turns you on to our latest L.P.
so do have a laugh certainly.

But you gotta give special credit for nerdy prog recursiveness to a song about time signatures. (NB: The members of Egg were in their teens when they wrote this.)

Seven Is a Jolly Good Time, Egg, UK, 1969

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Lyrics:

1
I used to play in four time when I was very small
Recently I've realised the folly of it all
So grim a thought disturbed me, upset my decent mind
I started writing songs in all the rhythms I could find
Like five...

Seven is a jolly good time, seven is a jolly good time
It's such a very good sign to play in seven time
Seven is a jolly good time, seven is a jolly good time
It's such a very good sign to play in seven time

I found it hard to follow, my foot became confused
My facial muscles echoed the rhythms that I used
And now I found my métier playing in a group
I gather all the notes up and jump them through a hoop
As in eleven...

Seven is a jolly good time, seven is a jolly good time
It's such a very good sign to play in seven time
Seven is a jolly good time, seven is a jolly good time
It's such a very good sign to play in seven time

It really doesn't matter
It really doesn't matter
It really doesn't matter
It really doesn't matter
(repeat)
Seven is a jolly good time, seven is a jolly good time
It's such a very good sign to play in seven time
Seven is a jolly good time, seven is a jolly good time
It's such a very good sign to play in jolly old seven time

 

notes for "1970s underground pop" (mix for internet radio)

[I am working on a mix for (open source) internet radio streaming. Below are notes explaining my choices. The mix is scheduled for this Thursday, Nov. 11, 8 pm Eastern on ffog's Myocyte show on tilderadio and anonradio. Please note that with the recent time change the mix is an hour earlier than it's been for the last 6 months. The official time for the mix is Nov. 12 at 0100 UTC.

Update, November 12, 2021: Thanks to all who listened and/or commented last night. The archived version of the mix in mp3 form is here.]

In the bleak mid-'70s, a time when horrible songs by Elton John and Captain & Tenniel dominated the airwaves, a mutated form of '60s pop song persisted in the college radio underground. This mix examines pop themes in the prog rock, dub, punk, and jazz rock subcultures of the '70s. Some fairly eccentric '60s songs are also sprinkled in for context. Many of these artists are now considered classic but at the time, only music nerds were listening to them.

Donovan's "Wear Your Love Like Heaven" kicks off the set, mainly to show how effortlessly it segues into a quite different song, Genesis' "Trick of the Tail." "Trick," coming from a then-arty band known for its portentous, doom-laden catalog, surprises with its catchy vibe and sprightly Brian Wilson-esque vocal harmonies. The doom isn't completely absent, however, in this concise science fiction fable of a Satyr-like humanoid from a parallel universe who is imprisoned on Earth and jeered at by people who "got no horns and got no tail." "Love Street," by The Doors, continues the keyboard pop of the first two songs and also has some odd mystical elements, particularly that "store where the creatures meet," which causes Jim Morrison to wonder, suggestively, "what they do in there."

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Infectious piano (by Ray Manzarek) drives "Love Street" and the same can be said for Anthony Moore's ivory-tickling in "Apes in Capes," a joint Slapp Happy/Henry Cow project. In 1975 Dagmar Krause's warbling vocals sounded downright strange, and they still do. Another chanteuse from the skewed side of pop, Dorothy Moskowitz of the short-lived '60s art-rock outfit The United States of America, sings about "Coming Down" from an acid trip. She never "belts it out" a la Grace Slick but maintains an air of beatnik cool as she sings of Reality, which, as we know, "is only temporary."

A startlingly clear "alternate mix" of The Mothers of Invention's Freak Out has recently surfaced on the web, yielding tonight's version of "You're Probably Wondering Why I'm Here," sung by Mr. Zappa, alternating vocal chores with the late great Ray Collins. Before Zappa could afford elaborate horn charts he played a kazoo, and this is possibly the most sarcastic use of that instrument ever heard. Next up is a '60s throwback from 1978, Tina Peel's "Knocking Down Guardrails." A friend of mine was the roadie for this band and I fondly recall sitting with him on the stage at Max's Kansas City one night after all the band's instruments had been packed up. (I also once visited Tina Peel frontman Rudi Protrudi in his Alphabet City apartment.) The same year, Tuxedomoon released "New Machine," which didn't look back to the '60s but rather forward to the '80s, with its beatbox, synths, and anguished vocals from Winston Tong. A trace of the former decade can still be heard, however, in Michael Belfer's unabashedly psychedelic guitar wails.

Next we hear an improbable (but smooth) transition to Curved Air's "Not Quite the Same," a song about masturbation sung with impeccable English reserve by Sonja Kristina Linwood, over a tight arrangement of trumpets, trombones, violin and VCS3 synth. Although keyboardist Francis Monkman didn't write the song (that was Linwood and violinist Darryl Way), a similar eclectic style can be heard in Monkman's later soundtrack for the film The Long Good Friday. Then, DC art rock band Grits takes us "Back to the Suburbs," in a Zappa-esque plea for regression to babysitters, bowling alleys, and other markers of a safe childhood in the burbs, after the singer finds it too much of "a strain to be alive and so neurotic." Infantile regression can also be heard in Zappa's own "Let Me Take You to the Beach," expressing a simple desire for a weekend weenie-roast, made to seem ironic only because everything Zappa writes is sarcastic.

revolution_dub

Kevin Ayers' evocation of a romantic Paris sidewalk cafe, "May I?," complete with accordion and street sounds, nowadays could be instantly summed up with the words "trigger warning." Nevertheless, Ayers' perambulating bass and Lol Coxhill's ethereal sax perhaps succeed in charming us more than the dated come-on in the lyrics. Meanwhile, Can's Damo Suzuki is having none of it with "Don't Turn the Light On, Leave Me Alone," a melange of gypsy-caravan ambience and rock jam, propelled by Jaki Liebezeit's always-seductive drumming. The spirit of collage continues with Lee Perry's "Doctor on the Go," a slinky reggae beat layered atop a British sitcom that blares tinnily from a TV monitor (or so it sounds). Then it's back to the '60s with Rajput & The Sepoy Mutiny's amazing, struggling sitar rendition of "Up, Up & Away." This gem languished in obscurity in the US until its inclusion in Re/Search's 1993 anthology Incredibly Strange Music, Vol I.

"That's Ramsey F---ing Lewis, right there," announced l0de AKA Zak ZYZ on his YouTube radio show, as he listened to "Cry Baby Cry," an over-the-top lounge-jazz version of John Lennon's song. "Lounge" then had its avant garde apotheosis 10 years post-Lewis with Gary Wilson's cult LP You Think You Really Know Me, from whence comes the next tune, "You Were Too Good To Be True," a winsome, slap-bassed instrumental. Quentin Tarantino already rediscovered the penultimate track, George Baker Selection's "Little Green Bag," and used it in the "cool gangsters walking" intro of Reservoir Dogs. And lastly comes The Modern Lovers' "Old World," from the period before Jonathan Richman went full-blown twee, included here for the organ work by soon-to-be-Talking-Head Jerry Harrison, as well as the involvement of '60s-turned-'70s-trailblazer, John Cale, who produced this track.

Playlist

0:00 Donovan, 7 inch, Wear Your Love Like Heaven (1967)
2:20 Genesis, A Trick of the Tail, A Trick of the Tail (1976)
6:40 The Doors, Waiting for the Sun, Love Street (1968)
9:24 Slapp Happy/Henry Cow, Desperate Straights, Apes in Capes (1975)
11:32 The United States of America, The United States of America, Coming Down (1968)
14:09 The Mothers of Invention, Freak Out, You're Probably Wondering Why I'm Here (1966)
17:44 Tina Peel, :30 Over D.C.~~Here Comes The New Wave!, Knocking Down Guardrails (1978)
19:15 Tuxedomoon, No Tears EP, New Machine (1978)
23:33 Curved Air, Phantasmagoria, Not Quite the Same (1972)
27:17 Grits, As the World Grits, Back to the Suburbs (mid-'70s, released 1993)
31:23 Frank Zappa, Studio Tan, Let Me Take You to the Beach (1978)
34:06 Kevin Ayers and The Whole World, Shooting at the Moon, May I? (1970)
37:56 Can, Soundtracks, Don't Turn the Light On, Leave Me Alone (1970)
41:34 Lee Perry & The Upsetters, Revolution Dub, Doctor on the Go (1975)
45:24 Rajput & The Sepoy Mutiny, Flower Power Sitar, Up, Up & Away (1968)
47:35 Ramsey Lewis, Mother Nature's Son, Cry Baby Cry (1968)
50:50 Gary Wilson, You Think You Really Know Me, You Were Too Good To Be True (1977)
52:45 George Baker Selection, 7 inch, Little Green Bag (1969)
55:58 The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, Old World (1976)

Notes for "Orff Mix"

[Update: "Tom Moody - poMo Classical & Jazz Fission" aka "The Orff Mix" streams Thurs, Aug 19, at 9 pm Eastern on ffog's Myocyte show on tilderadio and anonradio.]

streetsongA_650w

I am working on a mix for (open source) internet radio streaming. Below are notes explaining my choices. The mix is tentatively scheduled for this Thursday. I'll post again when know more. My thinking here is closely tied in with music I am making in the studio at the moment.

This mix explores the power of the simple, primitive, incantatory riff in postmodern classical and "jazz fission" music (Kodwo Eshun's term for the brief period of poMo experimentation in the late '60s/early '70s, which eventually jelled into more codified -- and bankable -- "fusion" jazz). My touchstone composers here are Carl Orff and Eric Satie, and their music is interwoven in the mix with experimenters on the "rock" side (John Cale, Frank Zappa, Penguin Cafe Orchestra) and the "jazz" side (John McLaughlin, Ralph Towner, Eberhard Weber). My aim is a musical conversation where common themes, differences and "sidebars" are all considered.

The mix begins and ends with a version of "Something Spiritual," a piece attributed to Dave Herman, who may or may not have played with Glenn Miller (Discogs sometimes mixes up artists with similar names) and appears to have written only this one tune. It's a bifurcated composition, with a wistful, soulful beginning that breaks into a repeated 7 note riff (da da, da da, da da, da) that is very "rock and roll." The piece keeps switching back and forth between the soulful part and The Riff, trying to make up its mind. At the beginning of the mix, John McLaughlin plays it on acoustic guitar(s), showing off his speed and technical skill. At the end of the mix it's played by The Tony Williams Lifetime, a towering group of the fission era, with McLaughlin on electric guitar, Larry Young on Hammond organ, and Williams intricately flailing away on drums. Here The Riff takes over the song, and is played by McLaughlin and Young ad infinitum, with subtle variations in timbre and syncopation, allowing Williams to go off into outer space with metric variations and polyrhythms on a standard drum kit. The loud guitar and pulsating organ are rock, not jazz -- were it not for the drums, this could be Steppenwolf.

Going back to the beginning of the mix: McLaughlin's acoustic version is followed by Penguin Cafe Orchestra's "In the Back of a Taxi," which has a upbeat folk-like Riff played on bass, piano, and ukulele that you could listen to all day. But then a zany quasi-mariachi band comes in with trumpets and breaks the hypnotic groove. This happens twice in the song but the Riff remains constant throughout.

Next comes the first of several pieces by Carl Orff and Gunild Keetman from their "Schulwerk" series, a decades-long compilation of pedagogical music for children (or students of all ages). In "Diminution Schrei," an infectious stew of bubbling xylophone and wood block percussion suddenly erupts into shouts and Native American "hey-ya"s -- from a German boys choir, no less. It's fun and pretty wack. This short piece takes us to Eric Satie's score for Rene Clair's film Entr'acte, which ran during the intermission of the ballet Relâche in 1924. This is my favorite Satie piece, an example of his modular "furniture music" -- a concatenation of simple Riffs ranging from circus music to melancholy strings -- which could be repeated or shortened as needed, to keep the score in sync with the film cuts. This was way ahead of its time.

Next up is Moondog's wistful piano tune "Sea Horse," which could be a continuation of the Entr'acte score, followed by Ralph Towner's solo guitar piece "3x12 (2)." Towner riffs, too but his mind is so musically inventive the motifs never settle into grooves but, instead, serve as links in chains of free association. Then it's back to Moondog, with his most famous work, "Bird's Lament," for reed instruments, including a honking baritone to die for. For this mix I used a version without percussion, from The German Years 77-99, sped up to the same tempo as the better-known version from Moondog (1969) on Columbia. This seques pretty nicely to Carl Orff's "Dance (arr. Wilfried Hiller) for Violin and Cello" from the Schulwerk series, with short sections that could be a sequence of stately folk dances.

This is followed by a threesome of piano works from my blog playlist hatin' on Haigh -- -- which presumed to find some better examples of solo piano (more fun, more tuneful, more diverse, more emotional) than those offered by Simon Reynolds favorite Robert Haigh in The Wire a few years ago. Ravel's "Le Tombeau de Couperin (I. Prelude)" receives a lightning fast treatment from David Korevaar. I owned the orchestral version of this for years and only on hearing the piano version realized what Ravel is doing with a Baroque composition by Francis Couperin -- unstiffening it and making it more romantic, more obviously French. You can still hear the Baroque trills and mathematics but with syncopating pauses and lush sweeps of cabaret expressiveness: a truly amazing reinvention. Then Gertrude Orff's haunting kids' music piece "Kleiner Klavierstücke, Heft I, No. 2," suggesting another quiet court dance. Then Philip Glass' Spanish-flavored "Modern Love Waltz" (performed by Amy Briggs), a machine-like arpeggio workout. You can almost see punched rectangles on a player piano going by, even though it has a human player.

Back to Orff: "Tun Ma Gehn, Rösserl Bschlagn," a children's piece featuring claps and a spirited mezzosoprano voice, precedes Sandy Bull's version of Carmina Burana -- played on a banjo! I owned this years ago, on a vinyl compilation of Bull's music, and can't imagine why I forgot this was on there -- it's completely memorable. Carmina is so familiar from horror movie scores it almost sounds like hackwork today. The banjo strumming puts us back in touch with its roots in the Jungian meme pool that Orff was tapping into: elemental strummed notes that are part folk, part medieval, part "world," touching something deep and primordial. This is followed by another Orff-penned children's piece, "Dance 1 (Piano Exercise, No. 29) for Violin and Cello" (1933), which seduces with its counterpoint between bowed and plucked strings.

Another short, frenetic Ralph Towner solo, "3x12 (3)," leads into John Cale's "Days of Steam," from his mostly classical third LP, The Academy in Peril (1972). This rhythmic piece for piano, viola, and tambourine (with trumpet scales and recorder at the end) presciently resembles Simon Jeffes and his Penguin Cafe Orchestra, which appeared a few years later. It's followed in the mix by Penguin Cafe Orchestra's "Yodel 1" (1981), a strummed acoustic guitar riff with piano and bongo accents. The simplicity and transparency of the instrumentation puts it very much in the Orff "Musik Für Kinder" ballpark, even though it's a 4 minute jam rather than a short structured chamber work.

Next is "Aybe Sea," one of the Mothers of Invention's prettiest pieces, from the Burnt Weeny Sandwich LP. A trio for piano, harpsichord, and Zappa's pedal-inflected guitar, the piece conjures a kind of deranged Renaissance dance number, before settling into a long piano coda. Eberhard Weber's "Silent Feet" is notable for Rainer Brüninghaus' liquid, exploratory piano intro, reminiscent of Ralph Towner's music in its improvisational complexity, rippling through a series of twists, turns, and key changes in a completely Western tonal framework (there are a couple of flubbed notes about 2/3 of the way through, which he recovers from brilliantly). This type of playing would resurface as the Windham Hill "new age" sound a few years later, without Brüninghaus' edgy melodic poetry.

The Ralph Towner acoustic guitar solo that opens Weather Report's "The Moors" is the stuff of legend, another freewheeling journey that resembles pure thought, turned into sprays of 12-string notes. The story goes that Joe Zawinul gave guest-instrumentalist Towner a chair to sit on in the recording studio and let Towner warm up before playing with the band. Unbeknownst to Towner, Zawinul had the tape recorder running and the warm-up session became the finished intro. "The Moors" then continues in Weather Report's early controlled free jazz style (coming off their years with Miles Davis) which had largely disappeared after their next LP, Sweetnighter. The mix then ends with the Tony Williams Lifetime version of "Something Spiritual," discussed above.

Myocyte - Live Mix 90

Recommended: Joel Cook's mix for his show last week on tilderadio (streaming internet radio). (His dj name is ffog.)
A downloadable version of the entire mix is here: [.mp3]
He has also posted an annotated version with links to the individual tracks and some background info from discogs and other sources.

Ffog's mixes typically mine the internet for obscurities, heavily but not exclusively in the electronic vein. He does much of his digging on Bandcamp, a motherlode of new music that unfortunately tends to blur and flatten out for the ordinary consumer, with its thousands of uniform squares begging for attention, ranked in quality by more uniform squares ("followers"), mindless robo-filtering, and staff-assisted self-hype. Listening to ffog's mixes is a snapshot of the zeitgeist otherwise unavailable using the site's own tools.

"Live Mix 90" centers around a lesser-known composer of academic computer music, William Schottstaedt (not on Bandcamp but available on YouTube), whose digital musique concrète ranges from eerie, faraway drones to sublime banging and screeching worthy of a Julliard-trained automobile compactor. Several Schottstaedt pieces from the 1980s are interspersed in ffog's mix, which also includes more current avant garde fare, "sound test reels" for timestretched vocals and speaker distortion, 1970s Echoplexed guitar, and the occasional stray pop song.