But I was wrong . . . but I was wrong . . . real wrong.

Looks like I owe Matthew an apology.  I was not feeling great about Chicago VIII, which I listened to several times yesterday, but it did have "Harry Truman," a song I have always had great fondness for, and after a few spins I will have to admit that even with the very annoying lead vocal track, "Old Days" was starting to work its way into me.  (I credit the songwriting here--by James Pankow 1--as the vocal by Peter Cetera really is QUITE annoying). But other than those two tracks, I didn't feel that the album stood shoulder to shoulder with its predecessors.  And the fact that Cetera was doing lead vocals on 6 of the 10 songs (2 of them shared lead with Kath) didn't help.

And this morning I put Chicago X on, and pretty much from the first note to the last it was Just. Fucking. Awful.  Part of it is the continuing dominance of Peter Cetera as a vocalist--he has five leads on the eleven songs, one of which is shared with a crowd.  But he only wrote two of the songs, so while it's tempting for me to think that Cetera is the man who pissed in the Chicago swimming pool and made us all want to get out of the water, that can't be the whole story.  (And it can't be that the band went to shit after Kath died, either, because he's still alive and kicking and writing songs--albeit only two of them--on this album.)  Although it is true that the lowest point of the album for me was "Another Rainy Day in New York City,"  on which Cetera sings in a mock Jamaican accent.  Probably never a good idea for a white guy to be doing that kind of shit.  

At any rate . . . I still have two albums to listen to, so I suppose things could change for the better, but I doubt it.  Early yesterday--before listening to VIII and still infused with my new love for Chicago--I took a look at the second set of studio albums . . . which takes us from Chicago 13 to Chicago XIV to Chicago 16 to Chicago 17 to Chicago 18 to Chicago 19 to Chicago Twenty 1 to Night & Day Big Band (22) to Chicago XXX and ends with Chicago XXXII: Stone Of Sisyphus.  I like the inconsistency in the numbering, both in terms of gaps in the order and in terms of typography.  I assume that that's not just Wikipedia being slovenly, though I suppose I should check on that.  Anyway, that brings the studio albums almost up to date--there were only two more studio album releases after that . . . with the curious omission of two (yes, 2 . . . or II if you prefer) Christmas albums.  And a whole bunch of collections . . . greatest hits, box, love songs, etc, all of which have numbers.  Anyway . . . I was looking at that second volume and starting to think I might want it, so I started playing the 30 second samples on Amazon. It didn't take long for me to stop doing that.  Jesus, this band went way down.  I'm still kind of interested in the Big Band album, but I will definitely check that out online (thoroughly) before I put any money into it.

And now I have two more albums in this first set to listen to.  I am hoping that there is some lack of suckiness to be found there . . . but I am not overly hopeful, I'm sorry to say.  Sometimes it just bes like that.



1  Pankow also wrote Colour My World," "Feelin' Stronger Every Day" (with Peter Cetera), "(I've Been) Searchin' So Long," "Just You 'n' Me," and "Make Me Smile."  

"BEWARE OF--POISON IVY!"

Yesterday Comixology put up a bunch of titles to celebrate Poison Ivy's 50th anniversary.  99 cents a pop.  Not bad in an age wherein you spend $2.99 to $4.99 for a regular-sized comic book.  And this issue of Batman was one of the sale items.  I bought it, of course.  Because this was my first comic book.  I didn't realize I was so young--not quite 9--when I read my first comic book.  But I do remember that I was a big fan of the Adam West Batman tv show, and that my mom brought this comic book home to me one day when I was sick.

Looking back through it was not quite as big a thrill as it would have been if I hadn't bought a collection of Batman stories which reprinted this issue, but I still like having it on my Kindle.  Also, it includes the double-page pin-up of The Dynamic Duo that was in the middle of the book.  The collection didn't have that.

I wish they had also put in the ad pages, though.  I remember being really thrilled and intrigued by some of the ads in that issue.  There was an ad for Justice League of America #45, for instance, which I really wanted.  The cover was reproduced in teeny tiny form . . . like this

 ,

or maybe even smaller than that.  And I could see Batman, of course, but I thought that the red person must be Robin, and I had no idea who the guy in green was.  (And I couldn't even see The Atom sitting on Green Arrow's arm.)  And when I found that issue on the comics rack . . . a whole new world opened up to me.  You know the Keats poem, "On First Looking into Chapman's Homer"? 1 That's what this comic book was to me.  A new planet had swum into my ken, and I looked about with a wild surmise.  And I'm still looking, still wild surmising, still kenning.

1 Sorry to be a snot--if that's what this is to you--but if you don't know it, you should, so here it is:

On First Looking into Chapman's Homer

BY John Keats

Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,

   And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;

   Round many western islands have I been

Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.

Oft of one wide expanse had I been told

   That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne;

   Yet did I never breathe its pure serene

Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:

Then felt I like some watcher of the skies

   When a new planet swims into his ken;

Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes

   He star'd at the Pacific—and all his men

Look'd at each other with a wild surmise—

   Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

The only way Keats could be more of The Man would be if he'd written comic books.

Chicago III

I come not to bury Chicago, but to praise them.

Specifically the the third Chicago  album.    Which is entitled Chicago III, even though the album preceding it was not Chicago II, but Chicago.  (The first album was entitled Chicago Transit Authority, hence the sequencing.)   So this is the first “number” title.  I like that.  I also like that the band gave number titles to all of its albums, even the Greatest Hits packages.  Makes it easier to keep tabs on things.  And less pretentious. Though it was a little confusing for me when I first looked at the “first ten studio albums” package and saw that it ended with Chicago XII:  Hot Streets.  But it’s because we minus out a live album and the first greatest hits collection.  Which are not studio albums.  Or one isn’t, at least.  Well, actually the band didn’t go back into the studio for the greatest hits album, so it had nothing to do with the recording studio itself.  So that works.

Also interesting is the cover of this album. Partially because it just looks cool.  A piece of raggedy flag?  That could say a lot of different things, couldn’t it?  But also because it doesn’t seem to say III anywhere.   Makes me think of Peter Gabriel, whose first three solo albums were all called Peter Gabriel.  (Although I see that now they are being retroactively named: Car, Scratch, Melt . . . and Security was on a sticker on the wrapping of the fourth album, so it was at least mostly named from the time of its first release.  You'd think they could have come up with better names, though.)

As for the contents of Chicago III album, here’s my take.

The first song is a funky little number entitled “Sing a Mean Tune Kid.”  Nice horns, funky bass and guitar lines, and a nice lead guitar bit.  The song, written by  Robert Lamm, but sung by Peter Cetera, weighs in at a hefty 9:13, and none of those seconds seem wasted.  It doesn’t seem long, either.

The second song, “Loneliness is Just a Word” (another Roger Lamm composition), starts with several horn blasts, then settles in to a funky little riff with a light, flighty vocal by Terry Kath.  That lightness is belied by the lyrics, though, which reveal some deep wells of pain.

Third song:  "What Else Can I Say."  And things get a little bit country.  The vocals (by Peter Cetera, who wrote this song) sound much more like the Chicago you know from the radio, but the music is quite different.  And while I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s “real” country, it’s also not mock or flippant country, you know?  I get more of a feeling that the band is exploring this sound, seeing what can be found inside of the tropes and memes.

The fourth song, "I Don't Want Your Money," which rounds out the first side of what was a double disc album back in the day,  starts with a little studio chatter, then a pretty heavy guitar line.  And then that voice. Holy shit, where did that voice come from?  It’s Robert Lamm, singing lead on a song he wrote with Terry Kath. I don’t know this band well enough to say if this is a natural voice for Mr. Lamm, but it sure isn’t a voice I’d ever have associated with Chicago before I took this 10 album set plunge.  The music here still leans toward the horns, but underneath them is a pretty hard rock, blues tinged sound.

And then things get quite strange.  

It’s a 6 song cycle under the title "Travel Suite," written by Robert Lamm, Danny Seraphine, Terry Kath and Walter Parazaider.  A 6 song cycle.  Hmm.

The first song, "Flight 602" . . . vocals remind me of Crosby, Stills and Nash.  I mean that as a compliment, by the way, despite my ambivalence about CSN itself.  The country tinge has returned here, largely courtesy of Mr. Kath’s lead guitar phrasings.  

And then there’s a drum solo.  What?  Okay, name two other studio albums that include drum solos as songs. (As in an album other than Led Zepplin’s II.)  And it’s close to a minute and a half long.

"Free."  Which is just a cool song, both lyrically and musically.  Musically, it’s got that nice 70s style whacka whacka whack guitar thing going on, a nice horn arrangement, and some very nice bass work.  Kath’s vocals here are very classic rock and roll, deep and growly.

And when "Free" ends—abruptly—get this: solo piano for a minute or so (we’re talking shades of George Winston here . . . and, again, I mean that as a compliment) which is then joined by a flute.  A fucking flute.  And it is really quite pretty and even moving.  But where the hell did that come from?  And then it gets playful, piano and flute exchanging quips, and I’m not a big fan of that kind of stuff, but I have to say, The Balls of These Boys!  Nobody would do this kind of thing thinking that it would be commercially viable.  And this song goes on for almost six minutes.  Just flute and piano.  Well, maybe some water glasses.  Sounds like, anyway.  I shake my head in wonder.  And admiration, too.  The Balls of Thse Boys!

Then “At the Sunrise,” with Misters Lamm and Cetera taking turns on the lead vocals.  Just a touch of country in the guitar again.  The vocals are the main feature here, though, and there are a couple of really powerful moments in the two and a half minutes of song.

And then the last song of this cycle, a seven a half minute instrumental.  Pretty much, anyway.  There are some la las and some la la dah dahs.  Guitar sounding a little Spanishy this time out.  And the flute returns.  Wow.  End of Side Two.

But the tank still has plenty of gas, apparently.  Side three consists of two “normal” songs and then another song cycle.  The first song song is another Robert Lamm composition (and Robert Lamm vocal), “Mother.”  Starts off with a driving beat and a familiar sounding voice, so that earlier bluesy / Kermit the Frog / Louie Armstrong / John Yarmuth voice on “I Don’t Want Your Money” was a different kind of sound for Mr. Robert.  Well, after a bit, “Mother” shifts into a pretty jazzy sound.  More along the lines of progressive jazz of the 70s, I think, though I don’t know a hell of a lot about this kind of thing. Sounds like progressive jazz to me, though.  

And then it’s Peter Cetera time with “Lowdown.”  Cetera actually sounds a little bit like John Fogerty here, which is good.  Sometimes he sounds a little too Alvin and the Chipmunks-y for my tastes.  And hey . . . this song sounds kind of familiar.  Ah . . . it made it to #35 on the Billboard charts back in the day.  So I probably heard it a time or two.  Terry Kath does a nice guitar solo here, and the horns are quite happening.  Yes, I like this Peter Cetera voice much more than the one I’ve heard out of him before.

And then it’s time for "An Hour in the Shower" with Terry Kath, which is another song cycle which consists of these bits:   
"A Hard Risin' Morning Without Breakfast"
"Off to Work"
"Fallin' Out"
"Dreamin' Home"
"Morning Blues Again" 

Kath is in great voice here, very bluesy.  Almost Three Dog Night-sy.  The lyrics aren’t great, but you hardly notice them because of the good tune and musicianship.  
And side four begins with a spoken word piece.  No music.  Pretty grim stuff, too. I like that in a man.

And then it’s Robert Lamm on the vocals.  This cycle is written by James Pankow, James William Guercio, and Kendrew Lascelles.  Interesting that Lamm was the man to handle the vocals here, then, isn’t it?  I guess Peter Cetera wasn’t the Main Man yet.  If he ever was.  Also interesting that most of the band members are involved in writing these song cycles . . . except for the trumpet player, Lee Loughnane, and Guess Who?

"When All the Laughter Dies in Sorrow" is followed by "Cannon," which is a brass only thing, and quite nice. Then with the next song the piano and flute are back--with a bass as well.  Was that part of the arrangement on that earlier thing?  Can't recall.  Might go back and look. And oh, The Drums, The Drums, Boss!  This thing builds to a nice little climax, then takes it back down to the Mellow Groove kinda thing.  And I don't mean that as an insult.  Though I would normally.  It kind of works here.  And I think it's--again--because it's part of a larger picture.  And, in fact, it builds right back up again to another climax.  Which then goes in to a series of street sounds with the blare of a trumpet or two for accompaniment.  Maybe some other horns as well.  Definitely some car horns.  But interesting.  I think this is "Progress?" But I'm too far from the cd player to see and too lazy to get up for a look.  Besides, does anybody really know what song it is?  Does anybody really care?  And, again, this is not something I would have ever expected . . . or even suspected . . . from a Chicago album.  It's funny, I kind of keep waiting for them to fuck up, you know?  Like, "Oh, we're finished being a good, interesting, vital band now.  We just want to do schmaltzy shit and make money from here on out.  Peter, could you take point on this?  Thanks."

BTW, that song ended with a toilet flushing.  And this was several years before The Tubes's "White Punks on Dope."

"The Approaching Storm."  Very jazzy.  Parts of it actually sound like The Average White Band.  I shit thee not. You should check it out.



Am I lying?  Or what?

And that goes right into "Man vs. Man: The End," and that's that.  

And that's good enough for me.  Try it.  You'll probably like it.

HOLD THE PRESSES!

It took me so GOTTdanged long to write the above that I've listened to V and VI and just started VII, and VII just made me stop what I was working on and come back here.  Holy shit, what is this?  

First off, it's another double album.  So for the record, Chicago's first, second, third, and sixth studio albums were all doubles.  The first one came out April 28, 1969, and the sixth one came out March 11, 1974.  That's one hell of a lot of music in five years.  76:36 + 67:21 + 71:29 (+ 45:16 + 38:21 for the single disc albums) + 72:15 =  6 hours 11 minutes and 18 seconds of recorded music.  That's a lot.  But that's beside the point.  The point is: Holy Shit, What Is This?

Ahem.

Rather than belabor things with my commentary, I'll just say that while this album did provide the world with two hit songs--"(I've Been) Searchin' So Long"  and "Wishing You Were Here" (both of them sung by Peter Cetera, but the first one written by James Pankow and the vocal on the second shared with Terry Kath), there is nothing to indicate that this is a "pop" album for the first five songs, which are all jazz instrumentals.  So get this, you're 25 minutes into the album before you even get a vocal track.  As in halfway through the second of four discs.

The Balls on These Guys!



Oh, wait a minute.  Looks like there were three hit songs from this album, the other being trumpet player Lee Loughnane's first song, "Call on Me."  Which doesn't sound even a tiny bit familiar, so I'll have to see if I know it when it comes up.  And yes, I would have heard it long ago, but after the fifth track I re-started the cd.  There's some good shit there in those grooves, man.

Tarzan is Not a Racist. And Neither is Edgar Rice Burroughs.

So, I've been reading Tarzan the Magnificent with Joe for the past couple of weeks or so.  We're about halfway through now.  And for the most part it's kind of "eh," you know?  I mean, Tarzan is always cool--I'd say in the top 5 of coolest characters of all time, wouldn't you?--but I think Edgar Rice Burroughs ran out of story steam for the Lord of the Jungle long before he hit the 21st novel.  But there are two noteworthy things in this novel--or at least in the first half of it.

Noteworthy Thing 1:   Edgar Rice Burroughs uses the word "nigger."  First time in the 31 1/2 of his books I've read to date.  And he used it ten times.  Which is about ten times too many in my book.  (I do, however, share Louis C. K.'s disdain for saying "the N word.")


I am happy to say that this is counter-balanced by Noteworthy Thing 2:  

from Chapter 11

"Have you ever really stopped to think about what that would mean, Stan? What it would mean to you both in the future— in America? I'm thinking just as much of her happiness as yours, old man. I'm thinking of the Hell on earth that would be your lot—hers and yours. You know as well as I what one drop of colored blood does for a man or woman in the great democracy of the U.S.A. You'd both be ostracized by the blacks as well as the whites. I'm not speaking from any personal prejudice; I'm just stating a fact. It's hard and cruel and terrible, but it still remains a fact."

Wood nodded in sad acquiescence. There was no anger in his voice as he replied. "I know it as well as you, but I'd go through Hell for her. I'd live in Hell for her, and thank God for the opportunity. I love her that much."

"Then there's nothing more to be said. If you feel that way about it, I'm for you. I'll never mention it again, and if you ever do marry it'll never change me toward either of you."

Hmmm.  Despite what I've heard from other sources, it's pretty clear that these are not the words of a racist.  At least in terms of the characters who are speaking.  And I have a hard time believing that a racist writer would create a non-racist character.  Especially in this context, wherein a white dude is talking about being in love with a black woman.

Just sayin'.

Jim Starlin, The Infinity Entity, & Thanos: The Infinity Revlation.

I'm not sure what my first Jim Starlin comic book experience was.  Probably his run on Captain Marvel.  I do remember that he blew my mind, though, and that I followed him into the Warlock comic book and then into Dreadstar for about a million issues or so.  And I have re-visited him on occasion over the past few decades.  But when I picked  The Infinity Entity up off the stands a week ago, it had been awhile.  And it took something for me to pick that comic book up, because I'm pretty much through with Marvel so far as their comic books are concerned.  (The movies, on the other hand, are definite must see items.)  The comic books all just seem so moribund, so tired . . . and so fucking ugly.  Where are they digging up these artists?  Or maybe it's just the acceptable style now.  (Case in point:  I was kind of interested in seeing the new Power Man & Iron Fist comic book . . . until I saw the cover of the first issue:

I mean . . . really?  That's the best you've got?  No thank you.)  But when I saw issue one of The Infinity Entity . . . 

. . . whose cover not only does not suck--except for the fugly coloring, but also bears more than a passing resemblance to Starlin's artwork (though it's actually Alan Davis), I felt the pull of nostalgia and put down my $3.99 (so to speak).  And I read it and (1) was disappointed and (2) decided not to buy issue #2.

But I was still craving The Starlin, so next time I was at the library I picked up Thanos: The Infinity Revelation, a 2014 original graphic novel written and pencilled by Starlin.  Started reading it and stalled out after a couple of dozen pages.  It was just two guys (Thanos and Adam Warlock) talking to each other, you know?  I mean, it pretended to be something other than that, but when it came right down to it . . . that was all it was.  They'd punch each other for awhile or go to another place to punch other people, but it was just a stupid conversation about cosmic grocery shopping, essentially.

So I put it down.  And picked it up and finished it off this morning, but more out of ocd-ness than anything else. And--SPOILER WARNING--it remained a story about two guys talking to each other. With the occasional punch.

And I've been thinking about this quite a bit of late.  Maybe all stories are about two guys (or gals, or a guy and a gal) talking to each other.  And the other stuff that happens to or around them is really just there to get you to the next conversation.  Which may be why Beckett decided, "Fuck all that!" and took away the setting and the plot.  And even took away the other guy (or gal) at some point, so it was just a guy (or gal) talking to him (or her) self.  Like Not I. That may be the true Bride Stripped Bare of theater.  The gushing mouth.  Because even in a conversation . . . how much give and take is there, really?  How much of a conversation is you waiting impatiently for your turn to speak?  How much of the waiting time are you even listening to what the other person is saying?  (Besides, they say the same shit over and over, don't they?)

Or maybe I'm just in a bad fucking mood.  Or maybe my mental and spiritual dyspepsia has finally become my status quo.  Doesn't seem that way to me, but wouldn't I be the last to know?

So let's conversate, brahs and tahs.  What do you think about all of that?