Rubber City Review

The Sonics

Although it may seem like we’re careening out of control now and then (“Thankless Jobs”), I started this blog with a simple, basic premise.

Over the years, I’ve collected a whole lot of music. And I haven’t always done it through legitimate means. So I finally figgered, I write good… I know a little bit about a lot of this stuff… I can’t possibly listen to all these tunes in one lifetime… and I probably should find something to do to offset all this bad karma I’ve taken on for file-sharing and other forms of digital thievery.

The solution? Rubber City Review. To use the parlance of shitty cinema, it’s just my small way of “paying it forward.” You’re welcome. (Speaking of compensation, don’t forget to purchase some of this music legitimately through the “picks” we provide at the end of each post… Mama needs a brand new pair of shoes.)

Hitting play on my iTunes library is like holding a small cup in front of a wide-open fire hydrant. So I use playlists to help me navigate through this teeming metropolis of artists and genres. Not all of these playlists make sense to other people (e.g. “Off Da Hook” and “Sausage”). But one of my favorites, “Sixties/Garage,” seems fairly bullet-proof – that is, until you open it up to debate among an entire universe of music nerds.

What exactly is garage rock? Is it rock music primarily conceived in a garage? Wikipedia defines it as “a raw form of rock and roll that was first popular in the United States and Canada from about 1963 to 1967.” But let’s face it, the garage itself originated in early-20^th Century England. So do you include the early sixties recordings of The Rolling Stones and The Kinks? I do… so throw me off the next panel discussion.

I view garage rock as a predecessor of punk; an antidote to a lot of the swill that seemed to find its way to the top of the pop charts in the early Sixties. Here’s just a short list of some of those hit songs:

• Theme from “A Summer Place” by Percy Faith (#1 in 1960)
• Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini by Brian Hyland
• It’s Now or Never by Elvis (movie-star Elvis)
• Wonderland by Night by the Bert Kaempfert Orchestra
• Tossin’ and Turnin’ by Bobby Lewis (#1 in 1961)
• Blue Velvet by Bobby Vinton
• Go Away Little Girl by Steve Lawrence (please, go away)
• Dominique by the Singing Nun (sorry, Sister Mary)

Not exactly what you’d call the golden age of rock ‘n roll – unless you include all the “nasty bits” (as Tony Bourdain would call them) floating just beneath the surface on both sides of the pond. Songs often performed by rank amateurs with a sense of abandon that had nothing to do with state-of-the-art studio equipment, string sections, backing vocals and constant tinkering by nervous producers trying to keep their jobs at the major labels.

Of course, like any other vital sub-genre of rock, garage had its glory years and at least two or three revivals – including ‘70s “garage punk” (Iggy Pop, The Ramones) and whatever you want to call contemporary bands like The Hives, The Vines and The Strokes. But we’ll focus on the first wave of garage rockers – and, of course, just the stuff that resides in my playlist. You gotta problem with that?

If I were to stay true to the form, I’d probably just pick 6-7 songs from the much-heralded “Nuggets” compilation assembled by Jac Holzman, founder of Elektra Records, and Lenny Kaye, before he played lead guitar for Patti Smith. “Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era, 1965-1968” was released as a two-record set back in ’72, and Rhino Records expanded it into a box set issued in ’98. And it’s hard to argue with gems like this one, from Boston-area band The Remains: Don’t Look Back

But I’ve decided to play fast and loose with the whole garage label, hence the “Sixties/Garage” title. I always found it interesting that stateside bands like the Standells, the Beau Brummels and the Blues Magoos were heavily influenced by British Invasion bands like the Rolling Stones and the Kinks, which owed a huge debt to American blues. So where does the term garage apply? This next Jagger/Richards original from the Stones’ ’64 album “12×5” made my playlist, because it sounds every bit as sinister as tunes that groundbreaking garage-rock bands like the Sonics were recording at roughly the same time. And it signals one of the band’s first major departures from its blues-purist roots: Empty Heart

Speaking of the Sonics, no garage-influenced collection is complete without at least one song by this bruising quintet from Tacoma, WA. Gerry Roslie’s blood-curdling wail remains one of the great treasures of rock ‘n roll. And most of the band’s recorded output sounds like its members were whipped into a state of rage by a sadistic, maniacal producer. But I doubt that was the case, so I’ll just attribute it to grim weather and the logging industry: Psycho

Levon and the Hawks

Most people wouldn’t describe The Band as garage rockers. But they definitely gave off that vibe back in the early ‘60s, when they recorded as the Hawks with Canadian transplant Ronnie Hawkins. They also cut some tough-as-nails numbers without Hawkins – as Levon and the Hawks and, with this next tune, as The Canadian Squires. Pianist Richard Manuel handles the lead vocals on Uh Uh Uh, and to my ears, he sounds just like drummer Levon Helm. I also like Robbie Robertson’s throwaway harp playing on this tune. Never underestimate the power of a poorly played harmonica: Uh Uh Uh

Getting back to the Brits, the Kinks followed roughly the same trajectory as the Stones. They started out aping Muddy Waters, Slim Harpo and Jimmy Reed before realizing they could come up with a few decent songs of their own. And when Ray Davies started writing classics like Where Have All The Good Times Gone and Tired Of Waiting For You and this next one, the Kinks never looked back. Once again, we could argue til the cows come home if this qualifies as garage. Doesn’t matter… It’s my list, and the song stays: Til the End of the Day

My other favorite form of rock from the era is surf. And I think of guys like Link Wray and Lonnie Mack as the common ground between surf and garage rock – just like Freddie King blurred the lines between surf and blues. When you listen to an instrumental like Big City After Dark, it’s easy to imagine it being performed in the same space that’s used to store power tools, gasoline, motor oil and toxic bug spray. It’s from a ’62 single on the small Mala label under the moniker Ray Vernon and the Raymen (Link’s brother Vernon, who played rhythm and bass guitar and usually manned the 3-track Ampex recorder). This stunning act of depravity is from a collection of Wray rarities on the Norton label, whose proprietors describe it as “ultimate crime-inspiring whangery that spits, sweats and swaggers.” Amen: Big City After Dark

Lonnie Mack is probably too accomplished a musician to be considered “garage,” but he makes the cut on my playlist simply because rock music in the early ‘60s didn’t get any better than songs like Wham and Memphis. This next number also appeared on Mack’s ’64 release on the Cincinnati-based Fraternity label, “The Wham of That Memphis Man!” – an essential album by any standard. Here he covers a blues tune by Jimmy Reed. And even though it features background singers, Mack earns a pass by bringing in Gigi and the Charmaines, a rockin’ little R&B trio from the Queen City. If he had been signed to a big label, they would’ve replaced the Charmaines with Lily and the Whites: Baby What’s Wrong

If you like Lonnie, you’ll also dig “the Fastest Guitar Player in the South,” Travis Wammack. The native of Walnut, Mississippi, recorded his first album at the age of 11, and scored a minor hit in ’64 with the instrumental Scratchy when he was only 17. That scorching workout and 20 others produced by Sun Records session guitarist Roland Janes are included on “That Scratchy Guitar from Memphis,” a compilation on the German Bear Family label. Word has it that when Janes sent a copy of Scratchy to Chet Atkins, the Nashville legend sent it back with an unintended compliment: “This scares me. I pass.” Wammack went on to do session work in the ‘60s at FAME Studios in Muscle Shoals and ran Little Richard’s band from 1984 until 1995. He continues to dazzle audiences today with his lightning-fast licks, but he can also slow it down to play funky numbers like this one (must’ve inspired the ’74 hit Kung Fu Fighting… garage soul, maybe?): It’s Karate Time

I’ll close with a tune that was recorded at the tail end of garage rock’s glory years, and it’s by one of my favorite rockers of all time, Doug Sahm (aka Sir Douglas). I had the huge pleasure of seeing Doug and band – including the great Augie Meyers on farfisa – perform at a small club in San Antonio in May 1999, only a few months before Sahm passed away from a heart attack. He was in fine form, bitching about the dot-commers up in Austin and raving about the Spurs (some things never change). But mostly, for two blessed hours, he turned that crappy little dive into a groover’s paradise. R.I.P., Doug: You’re Doin’ It Too Hard

Here’s a real time-suck – a series of videos on youtube titled “60s Garage, Surf, Freakbeat & Psychedelic Music,” from the mysteriously named GrimlyFormingPW. With respect for your time, I only included one. You’re welcome.

As you can tell from the title, I really didn’t feel like writing much this week. So I decided to take the easy way out by featuring some video clips that people have been kind enough to send me over the last few months.

Since I play harmonica, I get a few from folks who apparently are trying to shame me into never playing again. This first clip, from Brother James, features the wonderful Toots Thielemans and an ultra-cool Peggy Lee makin’ a little whoopee together on TV. Even with Toots stepping all over her, Peggy still comes across as the very definition of class:

Extended family member Bill Smith from Tampa sent me this clip of the amazing Buddy Greene, mainly because he thinks I look a lot like Buddy. This was filmed at a Gaither Gospel Show at Carnegie Hall – definitely not something I’d put on my “must see” list. But it really is stunning what guys like Buddy and Howard Levy (founding member of Bela Fleck and the Flecktones) can do with your standard diatonic harmonica. I had the great pleasure of seeing Buddy play in a small club in Macon, GA, back in the mid-’70s. Made me want to hand out all my Hohners at the senior center:

Nephew Dan sent in this rare clip of Roy Buchanan playing with the legendary Johnny Otis, with Johnny’s son Shuggie on rhythm guitar. It would’ve been nice to hear more of Shuggie, but it’s still a fine slice of blues goodness from the early ’70s. By the by, Johnny played drums on the original version of Driftin’ Blues by the late, great Charles Brown:

Next up: Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown and Roy Clark, together in 1981 on Austin City Limits. Roy is in full “Hee Haw” mode on this one… and if you want to see even more country corn, check out his version of The Pretender from the same show.

I saw Gatemouth perform several times, mostly in small blues clubs, and he always delivered. At one show in Columbus, a guy sitting in front of me kept pelting this woman at another table with ice cubes. Gate was blasting through one of his red-hot instrumentals but noticed what was going on. He stopped right in the middle of a solo, calmly rested his guitar against his amp, walked over to the guy, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, dragged him through the club and threw him out the front door onto High Street. Then he calmly walked back up on stage, picked up his guitar and jumped right back in where he left off. I was floored… The crowd wend wild. R.I.P., Gate:

Joscha from Germany keeps asking, when are you guys going to do a post on Link Wray? Since I haven’t decided yet how to tackle that one, I’ll give myself a little breathing room with these next two videos.

The first is a 1978 performance on Musikladen, a West German music TV show that ran from ’72 to ’84. Link is in great form and seems completely unconcerned with the fact that his guitar is out of tune. I enjoy some of Link’s recordings with rockabilly singer Robert Gordon, but when you hear him belt out this song, it makes you wonder why he didn’t do this more often. The second clip starts with a live version of Rumble, then segues into a rare interview on a UK TV show. The length of time you stick with the interview is probably in direct proportion to how you feel about Link Wray (even though the audio is slightly out of synch and the interviewer’s a little annoying, I was fascinated by the clip and hung with it ’til the bitter end… “The Rumble Man” seemed to be in a very playful and expansive mood). At least stick around until the 3:35 point where he shows us how to do the “Jack the Ripper” dance:

In our previous post, I went on at some length about Cleveland’s favorite late-night TV host, Ghoulardi. This next clip shows the original B-movie beatnik going through his mail during a 1963 broadcast. “Next time you write me a note, try to be less obtrusive”:

I was going to stop right there, but then it seemed like I had to find a way to pay tribute to soul man Solomon Burke, who passed away on Sunday. How about this clip from ’87 with Burke tearing into the country standard I Can’t Stop Loving You in front of a TV audience in Baden Baden, Germany? R.I.P., Solomon:

Couldn’t resist – one of my favorite Solomon Burke songs, recorded in NYC in August ’63: Won’t You Give Him (One More Chance)

I have this theory about the Beach Boys… that people who live in northern, land-locked areas, where it’s brutally cold nearly half of the year, have little patience for their well-crafted odes to the surfer lifestyle.  And this theory has, for the most part, proven true – although it doesn’t begin to explain why people in the Midwest have no problem dressing up like Carmen Miranda to go to Jimmy Buffett concerts.

Great Northern Parrothead

One thing is certain:  There are few greater pleasures in rock ‘n roll than a finely executed surf instrumental.  And if you expand the definition to include “surf-influenced” songs, then you bring into the tent some of the best guitarists of any genre – from Link Wray and Lonnie Mack to Freddie King and Albert Collins.

Sure, there are the classic surf instrumentals that even my mother could reel off – Walk Don’t Run by the Ventures, Telstar by the Tornados, Wipe Out by the Surfaris, Misirlou by Dick Dale and the Del-Tones, Pipeline by the Chantays… all flawless songs that belong in the “Surf Guitar Retrospective: A Half Century of Reverb” at the Smithsonian.

But that’s just the tip of the board (let me shut off this metaphor machine before it spits out “hidden treasures in the sand”).  In fact, modern surf-guitar gems are being cut by the likes of Southern Culture on the Skids, Los Straitjackets and James Wilsey.  And it’s our job here at Rubber City Review to give you the digital warning signs you need before wading into these murky musical waters (where is that goddam switch?).

Of course, there are countless treasures from the heyday of surf guitar, the early Sixties.  Unfortunately, the best collection of Sixties surf instrumentals I ever came across – “Guitar Player Presents Legends of Guitar: Surf, Vol. 1” – has long been out of print, and I’m fairly certain that Rhino Records never got around to issuing Vol. 2.  The beauty of this collection is that it assumes you already have the touchstones like Wipe Out and Telstar and are looking to dig a little deeper.  It’s a great mix of the familiar and obscure, and everything on it is first-rate.  Here’s the track listing (and four samples) in case you want to try to find these tunes online:

1. A Run for Life – Dick Dale
2. Surf Rider – The Lively Ones
3. Beyond – The Chantays
4. Latin’ia – The Sentinels: Latin’ia
5. Baja – The Astronauts
6. Squad Car – Eddie & The Showmen
7. Tidal Wave – The Challengers
8. Tally Ho! – PJ & The Galaxies
9. Diamond Head – The Ventures Diamond Head
10. Soul Surfer – Johnny Fortune Soul Surfer
11. Bombora – The (Original) Surfaris
12. The Jester – Jim Messina & His Jesters
13. Gypsy Surfer – The Avantis
14. Our Favorite Martian – Bobby Fuller & The Fanatics
15. Bustin’ Surfboards – The Tornadoes
16. Point Panic – The Surfaris
17. Mar Gaya – The Fender IV Mar Gaya
18. Fiberglass Jungle – The Crossfires

The more adventurous can check out a five-disc series of surf instrumentals on the Sundazed label – “Lost Legends of Surf Guitar.”  The handy All Music Guide calls it “good, though not nearly as good as the very best ‘60s instrumental surf music anthologies, and can be confidently recommended to surf collectors.”  The “Lost Legends” series makes a distinction between surf and “hot rod” or “drag” tunes, a fine point I’m not sure I can grasp (when I hear tires peeling at the beginning of a song, I know it’s “hot rod”!).  Regardless, the New York-based label is an excellent source of American roots music – from garage/punk and psychedelic to country/rockabilly (including a 3-CD set of Jimmy Bryant – check out our earlier “Speed Demons of the West” post) and blues.  Sundazed also reissues original albums by surf-guitar standouts like The Challengers, The Surfaris, Ronny & the Daytonas and many more.  You can find them here.

Nephew Dan turned me on to this next one – a top-shelf collection of instrumentals recorded by Norman Petty (Buddy Holly’s first manager and producer) in the early-’60s at his studio in Clovis, New Mexico.   “I think of Norman Petty as a southern, white version of Berry Gordy and Motown Studios,” Auerbach said.  “Just like the setup at Motown, Petty was cutting edge and experimental with the recording equipment and techniques.  And he used his own stable of musicians – mostly members of the Fireballs (and their great guitarist George Tomsco) – for a lot of his stuff.”  Although his voice is one of the more recognizable in rock, Auerbach certainly appreciates the appeal of the guitar-based instrumental.  “First of all, it’s not easy to find a good singer – especially if you run a studio in Clovis.  But Petty could create a real band almost instantly with a guitarist who could pick out a few melodies.”

The great irony of the surf influence on “That’s Swift” is that most of Petty’s bands were from New Mexico and West Texas (Wes Dakus and the Rebels came all the way from Canada).  Auerbach sees a connection between Petty’s operation and the Rubber City:  “I bet Clovis is a lot like Akron… I’m sure Petty’s musicians heard a lot of influences, but didn’t see them up close.  They definitely heard the records and saw the pictures, but had to figure out how to do it on their own.”  Here’s one of Dan’s favorites from “That’s Swift”: Sour Biscuits/Wes Dakus and the Rebels

Next-Generation, Post-Neo-Surf/Drag/Hot Rod Guitar-Based Instrumentals…

Surf music didn’t get buried by the Beatles – who, as it turns out, were big fans of Brian Wilson.  But maybe it’s not the right label to describe the best examples of contemporary, surf-influenced songs.  Maybe “reverb-drenched instrumentals”?  Whatever you choose to call the genre, it’s pretty clear that a whole slew of latter-day rock, blues and country pickers owe a huge debt to the first generation of surf guitar slingers – including living legends like Nokie Edwards of The Ventures, who continues to play and record today.

Given the fact that we Americans have a habit of neglecting our most prized musical treasures, it makes perfect sense that one of the leading proponents of modern surf guitar is from Finland: Laika and the Cosmonauts.  Unfortunately, it appears the band’s 22-year career has come to a close.  A shame, really, because these guys seemed to have a knack for reinventing the surf instrumental – throwing in healthy doses of sci-fi, vintage soundtracks and other exotica to create instant classics that defy categories.  Their guitarist, Mikko Lankinen, is no slouch, but he clearly prefers melodic invention over Dale-like shredding.  Here’s a tune from an album released back in 1992, “Instruments of Terror” – still one of my favorite all-instrumental records. Note Crisis/Laika and the Cosmonauts

Even New York City’s post-punk, downtown music scene got in on the act, spawning “neo-surf” combo The Raybeats back in 1979.  The band’s long-gone album from 1983 – “It’s Only a Movie!” – is a curious mix of quirky, synthesized soundscapes and straight-ahead tributes to Booker T and Link Wray.  Guitar Player magazine called it “one of the top 10 instrumental albums of all time”… but it’s difficult to find, and very little has been written about the band or its members (except for former Raybeat and current Straitjacket Amis). It featured a rootsy yet innovative guitarist from Kansas, Jody Harris, who went on to record with The Golden Palominos and former Lou Reed guitarist Robert Quine (he described Harris as “tragically underrated”).  Here’s a tune from “Movie” that belongs in the surf hall of fame, wherever that is… Soul Beat-Intoxica/The Raybeats

They’re the Godfathers of Mexican Surf.  They’ve got a strong fan base in Spain and Russia.  Their annual Christmas Pageant is one of the holiday season’s hottest tickets (if you conveniently ignore some bloated, heavy-metal steamroller).  And their cover of My Heart Will Go On, the love theme from the movie “Titanic,” reportedly had Celine Dion contemplating early retirement.  When it comes to surf-based instrumentals expertly played by grown men in Mexican wrestling outfits, there’s only one band worth talking about: Los Straitjackets.  The fact is, these guys are damn good.  Just ask The Ventures or Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers – or, if you could bring them back from the great beyond, Link Wray and Ronnie Dawson.  This next one sounds like the theme from a long-forgotten TV show… a damn good one at that! Pacifica/Los Straitjackets

If there is such a thing as a hot-rod/hillbilly concept album, it was released in 1995 by Southern Culture on the Skids.  “Dirt Track Date” was a major-label release with a used condom on the cover.  And it sings the praises of the white trash lifestyle with heartfelt songs about Cadillacs (with eight slappin’ pistons under the hood), shiny pants, pointy tipped shoes, fireflies, Tony Joe White, Little Debbie snack crackers, eight-piece boxes of chicken and, of course, hookin’ up at the dirt track races.  But once you get beyond the broad jokes, you quickly realize these three can flat-out play.  Rick Miller’s guitar is almost as greasy as the chicken, and he’s clearly a sucker for an over-fried tube amp.  He also knows how to throw together a catchy instrumental, like this twangy homage to the galley slave… Galley Slave/SCOTS

I guarantee you’ve heard James Wilsey.  Remember that signature, moody lick from Chris Isaak’s huge hit, Wicked Game?  That’s Wilsey.  The former punk-rocker played in Isaak’s band until 1991, when he left to pursue a less-hectic lifestyle – one better suited to the sparse, understated sound of his guitar.  But he’s back with a new band, and he calls his all-instrumental originals “space-age hillbilly stuff, little-haunted-house-on-the-prairie music.”  He sounds like a perfect fusion of Duane Eddy and Link Wray, if you dragged them through the hot Arizona desert at High Noon.  If you’re looking for evidence that the surf-guitar instrumental has evolved over the years, check out this original from Wilsey’s latest, “El Dorado” (released in 2008)… El Dorado/James Wilsey

Quick hits… Not quite surf, but wouldn’t you rather have these guys at your beach party than Frankie and Annette?  (For you young ‘uns, think Carson Daly and whatever bimbo he brings along.)

Here’s a nasty slice of sinister from the late Link Wray – a favorite of directors Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez… Jack the Ripper/Link Wray

The Iceman Picketh – Sounds like the Master of the Telecaster, Albert Collins, had his ear cocked to a few surf records back in the early Sixties… Frosty/Albert Collins

If you’re more familiar with the Grateful Dead’s version (or even the original by Bobbie “Blue” Bland), you need to shake hands with the man from Aurora, Indiana: Lonnie Mack… Turn On Your Love Light/Lonnie Mack

Bonus video from the heyday of surf guitar… Dick Dale and the Del-Tones play their classic Misirlou in the 1963 movie “A Swingin’ Affair.”  I love the bass player (I’m guessing he handled the books for the band), and it’s pretty cool that they let dad play drums:

Welcome to Rubber City Review.  It’s not intended to be Akron-centric, but I should probably kick things off by asking the question:  When it comes to roots-rock and other mutant forms of modern music – Devo, The Black Keys, The Cramps, Chrissie Hynde, The Numbers Band, Tin Huey founder and Tom Waits sideman Ralph Carney, punk guitar trailblazer and former Lou Reed sideman Robert Quine, Vaughn Monroe (Vaughn Monroe?  More on that later)… what makes Akron so damn special?

Growing up in Akron, I always felt that “bastard stepchild” vibe when I talked to hard-core Clevelanders.  There was never a sense that they were missing out on something by not taking the 30-minute drive south to check out Akron (although I can’t say that our meager live music scene was much of a draw).  Maybe we just had a little more to prove.

You could argue that the lack of a vibrant music scene forced many aspiring rockers into the garage – or, in the case of the Keys, literally underground – where they could tinker like mad scientists without fear of failure.  How else could you explain this hidden track on The Big Come Up? 240 Years Before Your Time

I’ve also heard that legendary late-night TV host Ghoulardi (aka Ernie Anderson, father of indie director Paul Thomas Anderson) had a huge impact on a young Erick Lee Purkhiser of Stow, OH before he morphed into psychobilly king Lux Interior of The Cramps, and that members of Devo were devotees as well.

Akron writer David Giffels expands on the Ghoulardi influence in the book “Are We Not Men? We Are Devo!”:  ”The Ghoulardi aesthetic seemed to capture a much broader and more significant notion:  Akron and Cleveland were a noirish sci-fi movie.  In Cleveland, it was steel.  In Akron, rubber.  But both places were defined by aging brick factories with round chimneys that breathed fire and smoke.”

Purkhiser also was under the spell of local DJ Pete “Mad Daddy” Myers, whose fast-paced chatter drew listeners into a carny sideshow of space-age sound effects and oddball rock ‘n roll… Songs like Teenage Machine Age by The Travelers, or this classic by Link Wray…Rumble

(Many examples of Mad Daddy in action here)

The Mad Daddy

In the late ’50s, Mad Daddy became an underground fixture in Northeast Ohio — occasionally hosting sock hops in his patented Dracula outfit.  But he never caught on at his next stop, New York City, where he eventually killed himself with a shotgun.

Now, I could go on at great length about The Cramps and the seductive powers of guitarist Poison Ivy (and I probably will down the road), but I’ll let this video clip speak for itself… You can almost hear the spinning sound of “the Singing Brakeman,” Jimmie Rodgers, who wrote this one back in 1930!

I love the TV show host at the end… Just another day of depravity at the station!

As this clip suggests, if there’s a common musical influence that connects all these bands, it’s probably rockabilly – which makes sense, because Akron’s rubber factories pulled in a lot of folks from the South who had little trouble adapting to a more urban environment.  You can hear some of that influence in Robert Quine, who was a huge fan of Ricky Nelson’s guitarist James Burton.  I’ll go straight to the source on this one – Burton’s blazing solo on Susie-Q by Dale Hawkins… Susie-Q

About 30 seconds of pure goodness… and cowbell to boot!

Since Chrissie Hynde moved back to town (part-time), her music has taken on a harder, more rockabilly edge — which is especially evident on this cut from Break Up the Concrete… Don’t Cut Your Hair

Maybe there’s something in the air, emanating from the primordial ooze of the Cuyahoga River.

But one thing is clear – there really isn’t anything you could remotely define as an “Akron Sound.”  The most obvious reason is that we never had a major studio in town with a forceful personality like Sam Phillips or Berry Gordy running the show.  Hell, Hynde didn’t even find her sound until she moved to London, and you could argue that The Numbers Band has never been properly recorded (Dan?).

And that sense of disconnect brings me to the odd man out – Vaughn Monroe, also known as “Old Leather Tonsils” and “The Baritone with Muscles”…

Back in 1920, Monroe was just another young punk with a rubber rat for a father.  He lived around the corner from my dad in Akron’s Goodyear Heights neighborhood, created by its tire-building namesake to house a small army of plant workers and their families.  But he eventually became one of the best-selling artists of the Forties – a big-band vocalist who wrapped his warm baritone around hits like Let it Snow and this one, Ghost Riders in the Sky… Riders in the Sky

I’m sure Monroe’s huge success appealed to my father’s belief that hard work and a modicum of talent can take you anywhere.  Here’s to Vaughn Monroe, the Godfather of the Akron Sound!

This just in from our Florida Bureau (brother James)… an entirely different take on Ghost Riders in the Sky — from Ned Sublette, author of “Cuba and its Music” and “The World that Made New Orleans” (more on those two books here):

Bonus video from Dan… We share a love of the late, great bluesman Freddie King.  I’m partial to his “surf-blues” recordings for the Cincinnati-based King label in the early-’60s — tunes like Hide Away, widely covered by blues bands around the world, and this one… Sen-Sa-Shun

But Dan came across this gem from Freddie’s later years, probably around 1972.  Watch him work out on Bill Withers’ Ain’t No Sunshine.  I like how he takes his time strapping on his guitar, tosses off a perfect blues lick, and then kills it!