The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Film of the Week!

It's kind of a circuitous path to explain why I chose this week's film, so please bear with me and/or enjoy the ride.

With Father's Day this weekend, I get a little sentimental remembering my own dad.  He died ten years ago this past May, which seems difficult to believe--but, as I say, time has been a blur to me since about August of 1985.  On 18 June--Father's Day weekend--we had a memorial service for him in my aunt's living room.  Only my father could get me to eulogize him the day before Father's Day.

I told a few what I hope were entertaining stories, but one thing still stands out to me.  The day before, 17 June, I was at work.  Noticing what day it was, I walked into the breakroom and wrote on an easel that I was declaring that day to be Frank Wills Appreciation Day.  As expected, I got the inevitable question, "Who's Frank Wills?"  I would just encourage people to look him up.  From the moment I did that, I've always questioned whether I did it of my own volition, or if I was channeling Dad--right down to my smug response to "look it up" when someone asked me about it.

That was just the sort of thing Dad would have done--latch on to some obscure historical detail and make a big deal about it.  I remember him telling me that there was a lot of Islamophobia in his workplace after 9/11.  After hearing so much of it, he made some comments about how he too had stopped trusting Mormons after 9/11.  When his colleagues would say something like, "You mean Muslims, right?," he pointed out that, no, in fact he was referring to Mormons.  Fun bit of history--in 1857, Utah settlers who were members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints committed a series of attacks against the Baker-Fancher party who were part of a wagon train moving west from Arkansas.  At least 120 members of the party were killed in the attacks which started on 7 September and ended on 11 September of that year.  Now unless you have an extensive knowledge of American history--and, sadly, most Americans don't seem to--you've probably never heard of the Mountain Meadows Massacre of 1857.  I have to admit, I had never heard of it.  It certainly wasn't brought up in any American history class I took in high school or college.  But Dad had read about it and took note of the dates that it happened allowing him to screw with people later on down the road.  Admittedly this was a favourite pastime of his.

Shortly after Dad died, a very dear friend of mine lost her own father.  We got together for lunch one day that fall as a tribute to them.  Over pizza and (really good) root beer, we determined that the best way to remember those we've lost is to find something about them that we've always admired and try to emulate that in our daily lives.  I realized that Dad's propensity for "taking people's brains out and playing with them"--to use my mom's phrasing--was one of those things that I admired in him most.  In the decade since, I've tried to do likewise where and when I could.

So, every 17 June, I declare it to be Frank Wills Appreciation Day.  It's still not a national holiday but hope springs eternal.  As I always say, if you see a security guard on that day, thank them for their service--maybe even give them a hug just to see the look on their face.

There are certain periods of twentieth century history that have always fascinated me for one reason or another.  One of the big ones was the Watergate scandal.  Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, two reporters from The Washington Post, followed all sorts of leads in what was supposed to be a "third-rate burglary" investigation that eventually brought down Richard Nixon's presidency.  More than 50 years later, it's still considered one of the greatest detective stories of the twentieth century.  The two wrote a book about their investigative experiences and the perils they endured along the way.  In 1976, two years after Nixon resigned from office, screenwriter William Goldman adapted their book into a movie.  It starred Robert Redford as Woodward, Dustin Hoffman as Bernstein, and Jason Robards as editor-in-chief Ben Bradlee.

The film went on to be nominated for eight Oscars including Best Picture, Best Director (Alan J. Pakula), and Best Supporting Actress (Jane Alexander).  It won four including Best Adapted Screenplay (Goldman) and Best Supporting Actor (Bradlee).  Co-starring Jack Warden, Martin Balsam, Hal Holbrook, Ned Beatty, Frank Wills, Stephen Collins, Meredith Baxter, and F. Murray Abraham, please enjoy All the President's Men.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Album of the Week!

I don't have a lot to say about this week's album.  In fact, I had so little to say, I almost posted a random album that I happen to like and say something like, "Here's an album I like.  Hope you like it too."  One of these weeks, I'm sure I'll do that.  But I was reminded of something that happened a couple of months ago that I thought would make good fodder for one of these weekly "sermons" and I never got around to writing it.

About two and a half weeks after my recent surgery, I had a follow-up appointment with a nurse practitioner.  Everything looked pretty good.  I was getting around okay, sometimes even without a walker.  So I decided to try things I hadn't done in a few weeks.  The first thing I did was walk up and down stairs.  The morning after the appointment, I went for a drive.

I have one of those zippered leather folders that hold a whole bunch of CDs on the floor of my car--if you didn't live through the 1990s and early 2000s, you probably have no clue what I'm talking about (CDs?  What are those?)  Most of what's in there are random mixes and copies of my own CDs that I made for my parents a long time ago.  But I saw one particular disc I had made that I thought would be great to drive to.  It was a nice spring day.  I rolled down the window, turned up the volume, and put my foot on the gas.  The only way the experience could have been better is if my car had a manual transmission.

As a Hoosier, I was flooded with youthful memories of growing up in southern Indiana, around the same area where the artist grew up and still lives today.  I particularly remembered my classmates playing his tapes on the playground during recess.  The more I listened to his music as an adult, the more nostalgic I got.  The only time in my life I ever got homesick was when I lived in Cleveland and it was almost always triggered by the classic rock station playing one of his songs--usually "Jack and Diane."

Over the years, this week's album has become my favourite.  It doesn't hurt that it opens with my favourite song of his.  Please enjoy John "Cougar" Mellencamp (as he was known then) with his 1983 album Uh-huh.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and forget all about that macho shit and learn how to play guitar!

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Film of the Week!

I probably should have saved this for a few weeks, but with the UFC fight on the White House lawn set to happen tomorrow to commemorate the country's 250th anniversary--just as the Founding Fathers intended, I have no doubt--I was reminded of something else that once demonstrated our superiority on an international level.  There was no major fighting, no body count, no... toxic masculinity.  And they made a movie about it to boot.

I love it when movies are based on a true story or, even better, "inspired by true events."  The screenwriters often have a lot of leeway to imagine what actually happened that was not really documented that led to actual events that were.  In many cases, these imaginings are probably a bit more dramatic and tense then they were in real life, but it makes for a good movie.  Sometimes I often find myself wanting it to have happened the way it was depicted in the film--even in films like The Right Stuff which was based on well-documented actual events.  (I certainly hope the origin of "The Shepard's Prayer" as depicted in that movie actually happened the way they show it, primarily because I say it every time I get behind the wheel of my car.  You can look that one up, if you're not familiar with the term.)

The facts are these--Steven Spurrier was a British wine merchant who was a champion of French wines.  He moved to Paris in 1970 and opened his own specialist wine shop.  Along with Jon Winwroth and Patricia Gallagher, he co-founded L'Academie du Vin, a private wine school, which taught students the finer points of oenology.  In 1976, around the time of America's bicentennial, Spurrier had heard about wine makers in the Napa Valley area of California and set up a blind taste test among French wine snobs to demonstrate France's superiority at wine making.  Spoiler alert--in what became known as "The Judgement of Paris," the California wines won the blind test and completely upended the wine industry.  After an article was published in Time, people all over the country were dying to try these wines, particularly the 1973 Chateau Montelena, the Chardonnay that won the white wine category.  Since, at the time, no one outside of Napa Valley was drinking wine from Napa Valley, they had a lot of difficulty finding it.

In 2008, a movie was made about the events leading up to the competition.  Alan Rickman played Steven Spurrier.  His one regular "customer" in his wine shop is American expat, Maurice Cantavale (played by Dennis Farina).  Maurice tells Steven that he's heard about some really good wines that are being produced in America, specifically in California's Napa Valley region.  Skeptical, Steven travels to California to check it out.  He meets Jim Barrett (played by Bill Pullman) who gave up his former life as a lawyer to buy a vineyard.  He and his slacker/stoner son Bo (Chris Pine) run the vineyard, trying desperately--well, Jim is the one really trying--to make the perfect wine.  Helping them out is Jim's friend Gustavo (Freddy Rodriguez) who, unbeknownst to them, is making his own wine on the side.  The film depicts a lot of tension between father and son regarding the present and future of Jim's seemingly hare-brained dream.

Watching this movie again made me wish I remembered the events depicted.  Although I was alive during the time, my earliest memories took place a week after the bicentennial.  Consequently, I had no real understanding of the larger world around me--certainly not when it came to adult beverages.  Watching it made me feel patriotic in a way.  I suddenly found myself proud to be an American... in the strictest, non-Lee Greenwood sense of the phrase.  (Dear God, I hate that song--always have.)  Overall, I think it's a much classier version of America than what can be presented in a UFC fight.... or any kind of fight, for that matter.

For his performance, Alan Rickman went on to win (and I swear I'm not making this up) the Golden Space Needle Award at the Seattle International Film Festival.  Featuring a rockin' 1970s soundtrack (a little heavy on The Doobie Brothers, but rockin' nonetheless), the film was directed by Randall Miller who also co-wrote it with Jody Savin and Ross Schwartz.  Co-starring Rachael Taylor, Miguel Sandoval, and Eliza Dushku, please enjoy Bottle Shock.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

 

 

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Album of the Week!

I had an idea for a movie some years back.  It would star Hugh Grant, Hugh Laurie, and Anthony Head as brothers.  Honestly, that was it.  I had no real plot or story--I kind of pictured Hugh Grant as the black sheep of the family, but beyond that, I was never able to come up with anything.  Not working in show business, life outside of show business always seemed to get in the way.

I was reminded of this last Friday whilst looking at my Facebook memories before work.  Apparently, nine years ago, I posted this idea.  I remembered the memory and went to work giving it no more thought in the moment.  A few hours later, I got a text from my sister that read, "Sorry to hear about Anthony Stewart Head."  I hadn't heard or read anything yet so--figuring he either died or had been accused of sexuaul misconduct (frankly, I don't know which would be worse)--I did a quick Google search and discovered he had in fact died from complications of pneumonia at the age of 72.

Like most Americans, I was first aware of Head's work through his performance as Rupert Giles on the show "Buffy the Vampire Slayer."  I always say that I kind of wanted to be like Spike and I was more like Xander in real life, but, as the son of a librarian, I kind of identified with Giles.  I also enjoy cross-referencing.  Hell, given half a chance, I might have even slept with Buffy's mom.   I must confess, I watched it on DVD after it went off the air in 2003.  But as the series progressed, I realized what a good actor Head was, not to mention a musician--more on that in a bit.

(In the extra features on the DVDs, it was mentioned that Head first came to prominence in America in a series of commercials for Taster's Choice coffee in which a romance blossomed between Head and Sharon Maughan over a mutual love of coffee.  These actually aired when I was in high school and I do remember them as we would sit around as a family and make fun of them.)

In the twenty years since I first saw "Buffy" I would tend to notice when he appeared in something I liked, or even something I wanted to see or even still want to see.  I regret to say that I've still never seen "Little Britain" and his uncredited appearance in Tim Burton's adaptation of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.  And I would have loved to have seen his performance as Dr. Frank-N-Furter in the West End Revival of The Rocky Horror Picture Show in the early 1990s.

Also, like most Americans, I most recently saw him in the show "Ted Lasso," which my sister gave me as an early birthday present to enjoy while recovering from hip replacement surgery.  (Weirdly, she also gave me the first three seasons of "Buffy" when I had my previous hip replacement.)  I was delighted by the entire show, but Head's performance stood out to me.  Frankly, the character of Rupert Mannion was a bit of an asshole, which also quite delighted me.  I had never seen him play one before.  The closest I had seen--since no one else is bringing it up--was his appearance in the last four episodes of the sixth season of the highly underrated "Monarch of the Glen."  His character of Chester Grant was more of a prick than an asshole and he became relatively likeable by the end, but he was still not the reserved, charming Englishman to which I'd been overexposed in over 120 episodes of "Buffy."  But Grant was absolutely nothing compared to Mannion and I'm sorry he won't be around for the upcoming fourth season, which I assume will be dedicated to him in some way, shape, or form.

The one great thing that "Buffy" did was show me--show us all--that not only was Head a great actor, but he was also quite the impressive singer and musician.  During the show's seven-season run, there were a number of instances where we got to hear Giles sing and even play the guitar--most notably in the famous musical episode, "Once More, With Feeling."  The following year, he really showed off his musically creative side by releasing an album with musician George Sarah.  The two wrote the bulk of the songs (Head wrote the lyrics and Sarah wrote the music and produced the album).  I hadn't listened to it in a long time, but I felt compelled to do so after finding out about his passing (not to mention the passing of his long-term partner and mother to his children in January!).  Initially, I thought it was a little synth-heavy.  I still think that, but after twenty years, I've come to believe it's one of the album's strengths.  It gives the whole thing a nice ambient melancholy that may be best appreciated at certain times.  And who knew that Anthony Head could play the sitar?

Featuring appearances by "Buffy" costars James Marsters, Amber Benson, and Alyson Hannigan, this week--since no one else has seemed to mention it in all the tributes to him--please enjoy the newly late, great Anthony (Stewart) Head and George Sarah with their 2002 album, aptly titled Music For Elevators.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

 

 

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Film of the Week!

"You can keep your Marxist ways, for it's only just a phase,

For it's money, money, money, makes the world... go... round!"

--Monty Python, "Money Song" (written by Eric Idle and John Gould)

I alluded to this week's film a couple of weeks ago when I wrote about films of the 1970s, specifically that week Albert Brooks's film Real Life.  Both films eerily predicted a lot of things that in the last half century have become so commonplace we don't even really give it much thought today.  The word "prescient" gets thrown around a lot, particularly when discussing this week's film.

I watched it again this past week.  I first saw it 20 years ago and I found it powerful and thought provoking then.  It resonated even more with me this week in the wake of "The Late Show" going off the air.

In the movie, news anchor Howard Beale (played by Peter Finch) is essentially fired because of bad ratings.  After making a spectacle on live television that draws in quite an audience, the network decides to give him his own show in which he tells a studio audience--and millions of viewers watching at home--exactly what's wrong with the world today and what they need to do to fix it.  After Beale convinces his audience to try to kill a business deal that his network is trying to secure, the network realizes that he might be a liability to their bottom line and devises ways of bringing him under control.

Since the film was released 50 years ago, we've pretty much erased the line between news and entertainment.  It is ostensibly a satire of media culture.  It's a biting critique about how corporate greed has taken control of everything.  In the movie, much like in real life, networks are being run by corporations with only one guiding principle--to make as much money as they possibly can, any way they can.  We saw that in Paramount's decision to axe Stephen Colbert.  They argue that it was financial.  A lot of people (myself included) think it was political.  Honestly, what's the difference at this point?  Paramount wanted to merge with Skydance and the administration needed to approve the merger.  The administration has made it clear they don't like Colbert.  Getting rid of him would definitely make the merger more appealing to the government.  Even from a political perspective, the move was still financially motivated.

Paddy Chayefsky's Oscar-winning script is a feast for the ears.  Watching the movie, you can tell that every actor was relishing their dialogue--especially the lengthy monologues.  Beale's speech about how "there's an entire generation that never knew anything that didn't come out of this tube," is even sadder to contemplate when you realize that this now encompasses at least three generations.  When Arthur Jensen (played by Ned Beatty) takes Beale to task for "meddling with the forces of nature," one really believes that there are no nations, just a list of corporations and conglomerations and an "international system of currency which determines the totality of life on this planet.  That is the natural order of things today."  Honestly, if this is what Chayefsky thought of television, I envy him for not living long enough to see what the internet has brought us.

The movie has proven to be quite prescient indeed.  In the commentary track on the DVD, recorded in 2006, director Sidney Lumet says that everything that is depicted in the film has since actually happened in real life with the exception of the end of the movie.  And he seemed pretty convinced that he would live to see that happen too.  (Lumet died in 2011 at the age of 86.  I'm glad to say it still hasn't happened.  However, who knows what will happen tomorrow?)  Even my favourite screenwriter, Aaron Sorkin, wrote, "no predictor of the future, not even Orwell, has ever been as right as Chayefsky was when he wrote Network."

The film went on to set a number of Academy Award records.  Peter Finch died before the Oscars were awarded in 1977 and became the first actor to receive one posthumously.  Beatrice Straight won Best Supporting Actress in spite of only being in two scenes with a total screen time of just over five minutes.  Hers is the shortest performance to win an Oscar.  (It should be noted that Ned Beatty also received a Best Supporting Actor nomination and he appeared in the movie for just under six minutes.)  Finally, with this film, Paddy Chayefsky became the only screenwriter to win three Oscars for solo writing.  (He also won in 1956 for Marty and again in 1972 for The Hospital.)

Even after half a century, the premise is still so relevant that it was adapted for the London stage in 2017 starring Bryan Cranston as Beale, opposite Michelle Dockery.  A year later, Cranston continued the role on Broadway with Tatiana Maslany and Tony Goldwyn.

Originally released in 1976, starring William Holden, Faye Dunaway, and Robert Duvall, and directed by Sidney Lumet, please enjoy Network.  It might make you mad as hell too.

As I said in my album "sermon," I'll be taking a couple weeks off because of family commitments.  Until I return, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents a Bonus Album of the Week! (One From the Vault!)

I wrote what follows on 5 August, 2023.  It was originally posted exclusively to Facebook in the days before I posted these "sermons" here.  This was the first time I felt compelled to focus on an album for a second time--I had already written about it in 2021.  I thought I should revisit it again after writing the "official" Album of the Week "sermon" for this week.  Enjoy.

This week's sermon is a first for me.  When I started these nearly four years ago, I made--and still make--a conscious effort to be as diverse as possible when it comes to genres and artists.  I don't like to get stuck in a rut by spending weeks focused on a particular performer or style.  Admittedly, I probably don't submit enough country, classical, or opera, and I don't think I've ever submitted a reggae or a rap album, but it's not for lack of trying on my part--most of the time, I just had more to say about something else that moved me more in that particular moment.  However, the one thing that I've been adamant about is not submitting an album more than once.  As a preventive measure, I even have a running list of the albums I have submitted so that I don't repeat any.  But since rules are made to be broken (and they are my rules anyway), for some reason, I feel compelled to revisit an album I submitted two years ago.  Besides, most of you reading this probably wouldn't have known the difference unless I told you.  I certainly hope this doesn't become a habit on my part.

Two years ago, I shared a relatively obscure album with a somewhat notorious past.  It was the eponymous (and only) album by a two-man psychedelic/heavy metal act calling itself Attila, originally released in July of 1970 on Epic Records.  The group consisted of the drummer and keyboardist/vocalist from an earlier band called The Hassles that had done two albums in the late 1960s.  There were no singes released from the album, critics hated it and if it's remembered at all, it's usually remembered for its cover which consisted of the two band members standing in a meat locker dressed as Huns, complete with furs and armour.  Music critic Stephen Thomas Erlewine wrote for AllMusic, "Attila undoubtedly is the worst album released in the history of rock & roll--hell, the history of recorded music itself.  There have been many bad ideas in rock, but none match the colossal stupidity of Attila."

I stumbled upon a cassette of it at Big Lots around 1997.  I had read about it, but had never actually heard it (the internet hadn't quite reached the level of pervasiveness that it has today), so I took a chance.  Worst case scenario, I figured I would only be out three bucks.  Strangely enough, I found I quite enjoyed it, in spite of its reputation.  As I said in 2021, I wouldn't give it any Grammys or anything, but it's a great album to listen to while driving.  I'll even go as far as to say I've heard worse albums that were actually hits.  In fact, I'll even say I've heard worse albums that were hits by bands I like more than this.  When I first submitted this album, I had said that I really wanted to find it in a format other than cassette.  I seldom play my tape because I am always afraid it's going to jam up in the cassette deck (an occasional hazard with that particular audio format).  I really wanted it on CD, primarily so I could listen to it in the car, but it's never been released that way--at least not in this country.  I also wouldn't turn my nose up at vinyl (I actually saw a vinyl copy on display at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame when I visited in 2001).

I'm sure you're asking yourself at this point, "Will--baby--why are you seemingly so obsessed with something that is seemingly so despised?"  Well, to put it in nerd parlance, I've always been fascinated by origin stories.  I like knowing where people and characters I like come from.  As I said, Attila consisted of only two members.  The drummer was named Jon Small.  The keyboardist/singer was Billy Joel who went on to have quite the career some years later.  I had read about Attila as well as their predecessor, The Hassles, while reading about Joel in some book about the history of rock and roll.  Joel himself has described the album as "psychedelic bullshit" (for which, admittedly, I do have a bit of a soft spot).  In a 1985 interview with Dan Neer, he said, "We had about a dozen gigs and nobody could stay in the room when we were playing.  It was too loud.  We drove people literally out of clubs."

What's really frustrating to me is that the album is not even available on iTunes--a metalcore band from Atlanta, Georgia, is using the name now.  In fact the only remnant of that album that seems to be readily available is an edited version of the track "Amplifier Fire" which appeared on a 2005 Billy Joel boxed set titled My Lives.

After more than 25 years of looking, I checked out a website that seems to specialize in obscure and hard to find titles--I had some luck finding Lynda Carter's first album from the site last year as a Christmas gift for my roommate (long story).  Lo and behold, I actually found a CD of the album from a seller in France.  I think I may have paid more for the CD than I paid to see Joel perform live in 1994.  It arrived this past week and it's been such a delight to be able to listen to it again... and again, and again.  In the liner notes (something my old cassette doesn't have), Tom Paisley seemed insistent that the album "has no studio gimmicks, no multiple-track recordings.  No extra musicians were called in for the recording session.  The sounds you will hear are the same as you would hear live" (assuming you could stand to be in the same room, apparently).  And listening to it again, I seem to have an even greater appreciation for it now.  I don't know why--again, it's not a great album by any stretch of the imagination.  It's loud, it's cacophonous, it's not terribly accessible, but I still think there's some merit to it.  Perhaps it's gotten better in the 53 years since its original release--maybe even just in the 26 years since I first heard it.  But then I've always said there's a difference between what I like and what I think is good.  In 2003, for the British website Head Heritage, a reviewer known as Boy Howdy summed it up nicely when he wrote, "But it's just too over the top... the album cover, the vocals, the lyrics, it just ends up being an extremely entertaining joke that Billy wasn't in on.  But I've gotta say, I dug his trip, and the record still puts me in a good memory every time."

So this week, please enjoy (again), Attila.  If you're a fan of Billy Joel (and even if you're not), I promise it's nothing like what you know of his music.  For further exploration, I also recommend The Hassles which can be found on the YouTube channel where I found the link to Attila.

Until next week (when I promise to pick something I've never submitted before), stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Album of the Week!

This week, I want to explore a theory of mine.  It might be kind of crazy.  As far as I know, I'm the only person who thinks this.  But hear me out.

In rap and hip-hop, there's always been this whole east coast/west coast rivalry... thing.  But I don't think it's exclusive to hip-hop.  I wouldn't exactly call it a rivalry--as I said, I'm the only person who seems to have picked up on this.  And I only really noticed it because of this week's artist.  Please... allow me to explain...

When I listen to many artists that made names for themselves during the "singer-songwriter" movement of the late 1960s and early 1970s, I do notice that, like hip-hop artists, their music does tend to have a certain east or west coast vibe to it.  On the west, you can hear it in the songs of The Mamas and Papas; The Byrds; Buffalo Springfield; Crosby, Stills, Nash and/or Young; Joni Mitchell; The Eagles; Warren Zevon; and Randy Newman.  You can possibly even trace it back to The Beach Boys before that.  There's a certain mellowness that comes through in their music.  After all, it was The Eagles who, with a "Peaceful Easy Feeling," told us to "Take It Easy."

On the other side of the continent, artists like Paul Simon, Carole King, James Taylor, Carly Simon, and even Bruce Springsteen, were writing their songs--many with some of the same messages as their west coast counterparts--but with a different vibe to it.  I can't really explain the difference verbally.  It's more of a feeling than anything else.  Maybe it's the time difference, I don't know...

To be clear, I'm not advocating for a rivalry here.  As a fan of all of the artists I mentioned above, I would even find it hard to pick a side.  And obviously other regions had an impact on the artists that emerged from them.  I could write a doctoral thesis on how the south affected the music of Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Allman Brothers, and Jimmy Buffett.  Bob Dylan, Bob Seger, and John Mellencamp all have a midwestern feel to their music.  And I haven't even mentioned British artists.  And I'm not saying any one style is better or superior to any other.  And truthfully, I'm not sure I would have noticed it at all had it not been for one artist.

I often say that I lose a lot of rock snob street cred points by admitting that I'm a fan of Billy Joel.  So be it.  If he did nothing else, he made me love the sound of the piano.  I would even go as far as to say it's my favourite musical instrument... well... it's tied with the bagpipe.

Joel's Greatest Hits Volume I and Volume II was a staple in CD players when I was in college.  My freshman year, I lived on the fourth floor of my residence hall.  One afternoon, I took a walk around the floor just to clear my head.  I counted at least six rooms playing that album in the brief time I was out walking.  And, had I been in my room, there's a distinct possibility that I would have been playing it too.

Toward the end of that year, I started exploring beyond the Greatest Hits.  My roommate, Jake, had a cassette of 1977's The Stranger which included three songs I'd never heard on the radio as well as the full-length recording of "Just the Way You Are."  I realized that the Greatest Hits used a lot of "single edits," a notion which, over time, I learned to despise.  Before too long, I bought all of his albums.  I also started reading any kind of literature I could find on the Piano Man.

I found that Joel started out in the 1960s when he was still a teenager.  He was rumoured to have played on some of Phil Spector's "Wall of Sound" recordings, although I've never been able to verify this, let alone find out which songs he might have played on.  He later played in a psychedelic band called The Hassles.  They recorded two albums for United Artists Records between 1967 and 1969, but they were never hugely successful.  The label dropped them and the band dissolved.  Joel, along with Hassles drummer Jon Small, formed Attila, a two-man heavy metal/psychedelic outfit who recorded one self-titled album in 1970 that is notorious for being considered possibly the worst album in the history of rock 'n' roll--even Joel himself described it as "psychedelic bullshit."

(I humbly disagree with that assessment.  I've actually explored that album in these weekly "sermons"--twice!  Perhaps I may add it to this blog as one of my "Bonus" "From the Vault" entries.)

After the implosion of Attila, Joel moved to Los Angeles to pursue a solo career.  Most famously, he worked in a piano bar, the experiences of which inspired his signature song, "Piano Man."  He recorded his first three solo albums between 1971 and 1974 with session musicians.  By 1975, he had started recording his next album but was dissatisfied with the early results.  He had also grown dissatisfied with L.A. and decided to move back to New York.  Which brings me back to my east coast/west coast theory.

I've always felt that Joel's 1974 album, Streetlife Serenade, is his weakest album.  It's not that it's a bad album.  The songs are solid and well written and he sang them... well.  But when I listen to it--especially when I compare it to his later work, it just sounds to me like he almost doesn't belong there.  He's a man out of place.  He's an east coast songwriter stuck on the west coast.  Worse than that--he's an east coast songwriter trying to sound like a west coast songwriter.

After moving back to New York, Joel began re-recording his next album, this time producing it himself and using his touring band instead of session musicians.  The end result became a turning point for Joel.  He began to make more of a name for himself and--with the exception of his 2001 "classical" album--every album he recorded after that was at least a Top 10 hit in the U.S.

But, to me, it all starts with this week's album--an east coast album recorded by an east coast songwriter who knows who he is and isn't trying to sound like anyone else.  Featuring the now-standard "New York State of Mind," from 1976, please enjoy Turnstiles.

(SPECIAL GEEK NOTE:  If you're only familiar with Joel's Greatest Hits, you may notice a slight difference in the recording of "New York State of Mind."  The saxophone solo is different from what was on the original album.  Interestingly, when the albums were re-mastered in 1997, the CD of Turnstiles, for some reason, included the Greatest Hits version of "New York State of Mind."  I haven't listened to subsequent re-issues, so I don't know if this was ever changed back.)

I will be taking a couple of weeks off in order to spend time with family.  Until I return, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill