THE RADPAD TURNTABLE

I don’t remember where or when I bought this record; it may even be one of the twenty amazing discarded records I found while strolling down 12th Street one morning during freshman year of college. The Duke At Tanglewood, 1965, has its moments, like the version of “I Let A Song Go Out Of My Heart,” which, even though it sounds much like a television show theme from the 50’s, still stands as one of Duke’s most memorable melodies. But the string arrangements, for the most part, are cheesy as hell. You can skip over this one - there are much better Ellington records floating around the dollar bins.

Another great thing about experiencing these old records on vinyl is reading the liner notes on the back cover. I love the way most jazz records give a brief summation of each track, and the descriptions are typically priceless, with a sentiment that, while 50 years old, I can really relate to, even long for.

An example: “Solitude was written in 1934 while waiting for another band to finish recording at the RCA Victor studios in Chicago. The entire number was composed in twenty minutes, standing up, leaning against a glass office enclosure. After the first take with our band in the studio, the engineer was in tears and asked what the title was. Arthur Whetsol, our oringinal trumpet player from Washington, D.C., said “Solitude,” and it has remained that. It became a big hit in 1935.”

Matt Furie is an illustrator living in San Francisco, a good friend of a good friend. His book Boys Club is one of the single funniest things I’ve ever seen. It’s basically a comic book version of what happens here at the RADPAD.

Billy Harper taught my jazz improv ensemble during my sophomore year at The New School. When I wasn’t quite nailing the groove he wanted for his compositions, he would tell me to get up, then he would plop himself behind the drums, and ensue to play his ass off. His Elvin Jones impersonation was near perfect, rugged as hell in all the right ways, and very slow, behind the beat. The mood of the room was lifted a full twelve inches off the ground when he played his first note. The man has a vast, knowledgeable, beautiful soul pours out of him when he makes music, principal instrument (tenor sax in Billy’s case) or not. I bought 1973’s Capra Black, Harper’s first as a leader, and listened to it intensively over the years. I realize now that this man played a big role in shaping me into the musician I am today. Billy really took John Coltrane’s soul-searching musicality to heart, and his own personal struggles and joys are strikingly evident in his music. He was with Lee Morgan when Lee was shot dead by his girlfriend between sets on a gig. The gospel choir on the second side brings you into a glowing church sermon on a bright Sunday morning, but with some slow blues thrown in—like it’s no biggie. It fits quite naturally, actually. Billy Cobham plays on most if this record, and the great Elvin Jones graces the second track “Sir Galahad” and plays an incredible solo. This is deep soul-jazz. Listen to it on headphones, alone.

Led Zeppelin’s late period is frowned upon by many supposed die-hard fans, many of whom I am friends with. True, In Through The Out Door is chock full of some really cheesy keyboard sounds, but Bonham, BONHAM, John Bonham is playing drums. Yes, the greatest rock ‘n’ roll drummer to ever live. Another record in which I would be content listening to just the drum tracks. If you find it in a used bin for under five bucks, I’d say pick it up. Why not? It’s fucking Zeppelin, alright? The cover, all six versions of it, was nominated for a Grammy for best album package.

Maybe this album should have been called Taking Drugs to Make Music to Take Drugs To. Perhaps for need of contrast to the complicated music I perform, I have found myself listening to “ambient” music lately. Barely anything happens in this music, and it has a strange New Age quality. It made me meditate. And fall asleep. This music would NOT be good for listening while driving in the middle of the night, drunk, with the windows down—an attempt to let in some frigid air to wake your tired face.  I’m on a “song” right now called “Even If You’re Never Awake (Deuxieme).” See.

Scott Solter, producer and engineer extraordinaire, hipped me to some really great music during the four days we worked together at his home studio in NC. He had a makeshift alter for a Tones On Tail T-shirt in front of his mixing board. Japan is another one of his favorites bands, particularly this album Tin Drum. I just listened to it three times in a row - mesmerizing. It’s like uber intelligent, overly-arty (not too much, though) early 80’s dance pop. It is  heavily percussive, a New Romantic “…synth dreamscape, the tapestry onto which (David) Sylvain projected his visions of China and the Far East in general.” (http://special.the-raft.com/japan/) “The Art Of Parties,” and “Still Life In Mobile Homes,” are the real standout tracks. An excellent study in stereo panning percussion, with incredible drumming by Steve Jansen.

Sunset in Monroe, NC.

The view from Scott’s porch.

Jascha Hoffman, keyboardist/journalist, and myself in the musicians’ kitchen.

Yours truly.

Aaron Hartman of Old Time Relijun

Alicia Jo Rabins

I recently took a plane down to Charlotte, NC, and to the studio of Scott Solter. I was there to play drums on Alicia Jo Rabins’ solo project Girls In Trouble. It was peaceful out in the country, and I played drums for four days. It was great.

Weirdo Ripers by Los Angeles duo No Age is my number one record of 2008. I saw them in February with High Places on the opening night of Market Hotel, maybe my new fav Bushwick venue, even though I only went that one time. Their show didn’t impress me much, but people were going nuts all over the place and I wondered why. Crowd surfing, for real, was happening all around me, to songs exactly two minutes in length, in between long dreamy-fuzz interludes. With just a drummer and a guitarist who both sing. (And, yes, it was a Todd P show, so the performance was ener-get-ic, and a terrible band opened the night with their first-ever show. They were called Rings, but I would have like them more if they had been called Bracelets.) This record took me about ten listens to like, but that beautiful, feedbacky, fuzzy interlude thing is so perfectly paced with the actual songs that everything manages to be short and sweet. I’ve seriously listened to it over a hundred times this year. Everytime I put it on at the house, someone demands to know what record is playing, because they dig it. They’re that good. BAND OF THE YEAR - NO AGE.