On My Imaginary Radio

'The Lee 'Baby' Simms Show'

Friday, June 25, 2010

Lee 'Baby' Simms 1957
Taken from the Getty Library of Images

It's been a hard day's night, and you're bedraggled and weary. After a brutal week and long 12 hour day, you're finally home where it's all you can do to simply wash your face, brush your teeth, and crawl to the comfort of your mattress and bed sheets for a solid nights sleep. With your head on the pillow, you're lulled into sleep by the constant drip, drip, drip of the leaky kitchen faucet. You've drifted off now and just as you flow through the gates of 'Dreamland,' a voice in your ear whispers, "Wake up! It's the stroke of midnight and time for 'The Lee 'Baby' Simms Show!'"

It's WYLD! 50,000 watts of power transmitting from the heart of the Crescent City where the hippest cat around, Lee 'Baby' Simms scatters the platters, talks the talk, and walks the walk. Lee 'Baby.' He's smoother than silk, sharper than a razor, and as cool as a meat locker. From the historic WYLD studios in New Orleans' infamous French Quarter, Lee 'Baby' spins the bluest of blues, and the most swingin' of jazz. When it comes to r&b, it's devil may care from the raunchiest, to the fine and mellow. And for the younger set, Lee 'Baby' rolls out the rock, lays on the soul, and then sets the woods on fire with the hottest of Nashville pickers. It's 'The Lee 'Baby' Simms Show,' and it's on your imaginary radio!

My Imaginary Radio
The Lee 'Baby' Simms Show'

1) The Flood (Excerpt)/Godley & Creme
2) A Hard Day's Night/The Beatles
"Man! What is wrong with you?"
3) Mustard/The Woodroy Sisters
4) Life Is Wonderful/Roy Wood
5) "You're Lee 'Baby' Simms? Why don't ya' do a little... a thing, a talk?"
6) The Wasp (Texas Radio And The Big Beat)/The Doors
7) Killing Floor/The Electric Flag
8) Tell It Like It Is/Aaron Neville
9) "We've got 12 below the big red line with slick and icy road conditions out there Bob."
10) Let Me Fall/Julian Coryell
11) Haditha/Me'shell Ndegeocello
12/Love Lasts Forever/Kissing The Pink
13) Mug Old Fashioned Root Beer
14) Falling Out Of Love/Mary Gauthier
15) Isola Natale/Brian Auger & The Trinity
16) Serenade To A Cockcoo/Jethro Tull
17) "We've got about 10:43, comin' up on 10:43 here in the Crescent City."
18) Out Of Control/George Jones
19) She Loves The Way They Love Her/The Zombies
20) The Super Stock Jackpot Championships At Half Moon Bay Drag Strip
21) Rocks Off/The Rolling Stones
22) Barefootin' (w/Interlude)/The Rationals
23) Genius II/Valerie Simpson
24) "I wanna' send this one out to all our friends in the Ninth Ward."
25) Before Six/Harvey Mandell
"Man! What is wrong with you?"

Lee 'Baby' Simms is portrayed by Tom Waits
Taken from Jim Jarmusch's 'Down By Law'

Rattlesnake Shake

In Defense Of Peter Green's
Original Fleetwood Mac

Friday, June 18, 2010

In my opinion, the reasons why Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac were indisputably the best of the British blues bands of their era boil down to five basic factors: 

1) First and foremost obviously is the guitar mastery of the band's leader, Peter Green. While Eric Clapton --- who Green replaced in John Mayall's Bluesbreakers --- played with flair and intelligence, to my ear, it was Peter Green who demonstrated a more inherent understanding of blues. Green's sparse and soulful approach paid tribute to his mentors while simultaneously showcasing his own unique voice on the guitar. Although Clapton walked away with the glory, I believe it was Green who was more deserving of the British blues guitar crown. Plus he possessed a great blues voice. Gruff, gritty, and authentic.



2) The three guitar line-up. Jeremy Spencer was a fine slide guitarist, frequently added some tasty piano work, and was not too shabby of a vocalist either. To his credit, he was also an Elmore James devotee. But his contributions within Fleetwood Mac have otherwise always been somewhat baffling to me. Not to discredit him, but apparently Green felt that way too. Musically Spencer's interests centered on two things and only two things --- Elmore James and rock n' roll satire --- imitations of American 'Top 40' DJ's, do-wop parodies, acned teenage love ballads, and Buddy Holly covers. Green was in need of a harmonic foil who could hold his own against him. Despite Spencer's prowess on slide, an additional ingredient was needed, thus Danny Kirwan was drafted into the band. The resulting interplay between the three guitarists, Green, Kirwan and Spencer flowed as fluid as water running from the tap, the hot and cold perfectly blended at just the right temperature. No showboating, no smoking duels, no bullshit. Just delicate and responsive interaction. Each was quite capable in his own right, and they frequently shared the lead responsibilities depending on the needs of the song. A nice touch. The payoff was that it could sound like you were listening to three different blues bands sharing the same rhythm section. And as a threesome, they fed ideas to one another and bounced them around, fueling the songs to greater heights. P.S. --- Kirwan had an pleasing singing voice as well.



3) Speaking of the rhythm section, this leads us to the group's namesake, Mick Fleetwood and John McVie. While McVie may not have been the flashiest bass player around, he did lay down a simplistic, but solidly grounded and fat bottom. Fleetwood on the other hand was more than a simple timekeeper, although he could never be called a drummer's drummer. He did however play with unmatched authority and during those years had an extremely satisfying drum sound --- loud, booming and rock solid. The two man team did just what a great rhythm section should do --- supply an unbroken and dependable foundation for the soloists to ride on.



4) The material. Green and Kirwan were the band's principle songwriters, each with their own sensibility yet possessing an empathy for the style of their partner. As each ones writing skills matured to incorporate a touch of rock within their earlier and stricter 'nothing but the blues' approach, they collectively and individually penned several period classics, 'Albatross,' 'One Sunny Day,' 'Black Magic Woman,' 'The Green Manalishi,' 'Coming Your Way,' and 'Oh Well, Pts.1&2.' Additionally, the band's choice of covers was informed, broad based and often refreshing. Most welcoming however was that the Mac never succumbed to the dreaded 'boogie,' the embarrassing disgrace of far too many others. Detroit's 'Grande Ballroom' was especially a hotbed for that particular form of masturbation. It was bad enough when some knucklehead in the audience would shout, "Play the blooze!" because that meant that the guitarist on stage would then devote the next 20 minutes convincing us all of his manhood by shredding on what was supposed to be perceived as the most glorious and heartfelt solo ever played, a solo that 368 long and tedious bars later only seemed to scream, "Stop me, please! I can't help myself!" And in the end, the only thing that we, the hapless audience were persuaded of, was that he was simply a very large douchbag. But when I'd hear the call of "Let's boogie!" emanating from the house sound system, it was always an instant buzz killer. I had no choice but to head straight for the door. And don't even get me started on prog rock.

 There's an instance of this unfortunate predilection included within Volume Three in the form of 'The Madge Sessions, Pt.1.' Wisely, the band saw fit to serve this up severely truncated on 'Then Play On,' but I've included it wholesale. Stupid of me. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I shouldn't have. Damn, I'm sorry I did. It's wanking, pure and simple, and just after I got done saying that the Mac could never stand accused. I guess it just goes to show that everything I say isn't gospel truth, and it serves as a reminder of just how mind-numbing that kind of 'let's jam on this' crap can actually be, even in the hands of Green, Kirwan, and Spencer. After one hour, forty minutes and the obligatory 'big finish,' Mick Fleetwood, apparently pissed off because he didn't get a solo, starts it all back up again to lukewarm response from his band mates who had blown their wads much earlier and were just too washed out. I shouldn't have included it, dammit.



5) The sound of their recordings. Here in America, Fleetwood Mac records were released on a high profile pop label (Reprise). In their homeland, the original Fleetwood Mac were part of the Blue Horizon stable of artists, a company that specialized in blues exclusively. And like most blues labels, the recordings they made were largely no-frill affairs, simple 'live in the studio' performances captured on two track tape. The sound quality could frequently be erratic, varying even from track to track. The Mac's records were no different. But in fact, it's that very characteristic that often made their discs so much more compelling. Forgoing superior hi-fidelity led to an authenticity that others who utilized upgraded technology sorely lacked, and it subsequently made Fleetwood Mac sound as gritty as a South-side Chicago bar band. Obviously that's what the band strived for and in doing so (combined with all of the above factors) made them in my estimation, the premiere British blues band of the 1960s.

So that's my defense, and I'm sticking to it. If you don't already concur with my closing argument, hopefully you'll be sufficiently swayed after listening to 'Peter Green's Original Fleetwood Mac, Volumes 1,2, & 3.'

One final note. Fleetwood Mac as an entity, both with and without Peter Green has carried more than it's share of hard luck. I've mentioned Green's battle with mental illness. Danny Kirwan too ended up living on the streets, a mere shadow of his former glory as a long time and integral member of Fleetwood Mac. Today he's invisible and forgotten. Just another sad and unfortunate old man you might never even notice as you walk down the street. The already weird Jeremy Spencer got hijacked by The Children of God while on tour with the band here in the United States. It was one of those situations where he stepped out for a pack of cigarettes and just never came back. Meanwhile, John McVie's poison of choice was apparently whiskey and rye. Today however he's a millionaire several times over. That may or may not make him a happy man, but it sure can buy a lot of alcohol. Surprisingly, drummer Mick Fleetwood seems to be the only one from the original line-up who escaped relatively unscathed, and perhaps that's because he had a drum kit to bash around.

Peter Green looking hairy, but sharp in a 1970 rock star kinda way


The Best Of Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac, Vol.3

1) My Baby's Sweeter
2) Intro/Lazy Poker Blues
3) Rollin' Man
4) Before The Beginning
5) Coming Your Way (Early Version)
6) My Baby's Good To Me
7) First Train Home
8) If You'll Be My Baby
9) Need Your Love Tonight
10) The Madge Sessions, Pt.1
11) Mean Old Fireman
12) Love That Woman
13) Like It This Way
14) Fast Talking Woman Blues
15) Underway (Full Length Version)

Source material for 'The Best Of Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac, Vols.1,2 & 3' come from the following:

Fleetwood Mac (1968)/Mr. Wonderful (1968)/English Rose (1968)
Then Play On (1969)/The Pious Bird Of Good Omen (1969)
The Original Fleetwood Mac (1971)
The Vaudeville Years (1999)/Show-Biz Blues (2001)
Jumping At Shadows (2002)/The Best Of Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac (2002)

The Green Manalishi

With The Two-Pronged Crown
Peter Green's Original Fleetwood Mac
Friday, June 11, 2010

While recently reexamining the music of Paul Butterfield, I was compelled to go back and revisit yet another blues giant of the era, the great Peter Green and the original Fleetwood Mac. Although Butterfield and Green were both quantified stars in their day, we're now 10 years into the new millennium, four plus decades since they jettisoned urban blues to the forefront of our consciousness. Their influence is readily apparent in modern day practitioners of the blues, but today their names may be remembered only by the most staunch of blues aficionados, and in Green's case, solely electric guitarists. Perhaps I'm not giving ample credit to the younger person's understanding of their place in the evolution of contemporary music today, but then I've never had a great deal of faith in people's ability to see beyond their immediate reality. I reside somewhere near the outer reaches of Ray Davies' 'Village Green Preservation Society.' While I applaud new technologies and ideas, I'm not always so quick to fully embrace them. Same goes for people. I'm much more comfortable sitting on the sidelines just observing, and more often than not, I tend to be disappointed. Anyway, Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac is the order of the day, and I've assembled three outstanding sets, two of which are featured this week with the third to follow next.

Jumping At Shadows

Look at this guy. Pretty somber and intense, huh? Yeah, well Peter Green was both of those things. He took the blues pretty seriously and as the leader of Fleetwood Mac, he established what in my opinion was the foremost British blues band of the period. And there were lots of them. John Mayall's incredible contributions notwithstanding, the Mac stood head and shoulders above all of the other wankers. Of course, Green wasn't always so lugubrious. He was once fairly outgoing and playful, but then he ingested too much LSD and became something of an acid casualty, an affliction shared by many others in the 1960s. As a result he drew inward becoming unsociable, unpredictable, reclusive, and extremely paranoid. I can relate. Once at a Pop Festival, and we're talkin' a long time ago just so ya' know, I was given what I was told was a hit of acid. Window Pane, or something. Turns out it was STP, a hallucinogen several times more powerful that LSD, and after two and a half days of sheer madness I can emphatically say that I wasn't very convivial either. I don't believe I ever did hear any music that long weekend, or at least anything that resembled music. Just the deafening sound of my own internal organs doing their thing hour after hour for what felt like eternity. You know, heart pumping, blood surging, valves opening and closing, stomach gurgling, muscles stretching, lungs expanding, the whole nine yards. It was a little like being in that old sci-fi flick, 'Fantastic Voyage,' except without Rachel Welch to ponder on end. And then there were the voices. Inner dialogue with each and every facet of my tortured psyche. I never knew I had so many. But that's another story. This one's about Peter Green and his acid psychosis. I mean... his music.So in 1966 he was tapped to replace hotshot Eric Clapton in John Mayall's Bluesbreakers. Most would say Green had very big shoes to fill, but you know, I never understood that whole 'Clapton Is God' stuff. Green's contribution however to the ever evolving Mayall band was simply spectacular. His clear tone, vibrato, and economy of style lent a warmer sound to the proceedings with less flash and more soul. But it only lasted for one LP, 'Hard Road.' Green was keen to front his own band, so in 1967 he recruited John McVie and Mick Fleetwood to handle bass and drums respectively and then completed the ensemble with the guitar triumvirate of Jeremy Spencer, Danny Kirwan, and himself out front. What a line-up! A straight up blues-rock band that covered the war horses, and presented some highly original self penned material. But Green's mental state became increasingly compromised as his newfound band garnered rave reviews and commercial success. Green felt conflicted by their accomplishment and believed himself unworthy of the attention, as having sold out. Deciding to leave the band his condition worsened, the culmination of his angst and acid intake as self medication. I don't believe however that Green was a career acid head. Accounts indicate that he once binged on a loss weekend and as a result of his mental instability, "took a trip, and never came back." The end result was a drifter's life outside of the limelight performing a series of dead-end, low pay menial jobs, all of which were well beneath that of a Guitar God.

The 1970s subsequently saw Green in and out of psychiatric institutions, as well as undergoing electroshock therapy, but never fully regaining his stride. After a short creative spurt he relapsed back into his internal world, and apparently lived there as quite the recluse for many years until rescued by family members in the late 80s. After nursing him back to health, he formed The Splinter Group with Nigel Watson and Cozy Powell enjoying marginal success, although it was never to the degree of his former glory years with Fleetwood Mac, the greatest British blues band that ever was. And why were they the greatest British blues band ever? That question will be addressed in next week's post.

About the Music

I've taken the easy way out here with Volume One. It's actually 'The Best of Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac,' readily available through vender's like Amazon for mere pocket change. I question whether the discounted price is because anyone who cares already has the material within their collection (albeit, Mac material has been repackaged many times over), or whether the interest in Fleetwood Mac's early blues years is merely waning. If the latter, that is the impetus of this retrospective. Inexplicably, the CD includes one track from Christine Perfect with backing by Chicken Shack, as well as 'Dragonfly', the band's first single to be released after Green's departure, and also a very nice acoustic version of 'Albatross' recorded in 2002 no less by Peter and Chris Coco. Why they ended up in a collection called, 'The Best Of Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac' is lost on me. That said however, I was too lazy to remove them. Plus I kinda like 'em, so I've left them intact. Of course, as superb a collection as 'The Best Of...' actually is, I found it lacking more than a few songs that further demonstrated the flair and power of Peter Green's Original Fleetwood Mac. So I made some work for myself and assembled two more volumes that are not available in stores anywhere. Lucky you. Volume Two collects those performances that I felt needed inclusion, and the forthcoming Volume Three gathers up some random leftovers. Too much, you think? You can make that decision after hearing Volumes One and Two. Oh yeah, I only repeated one song, and that was purely accidental. Enjoy.

The Best Of Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac, Vol.1

1) Albatross
2) Black Magic Woman
3) Need Your Love So Bad
4) My Heart Beat Like A Hammer
5) Rollin' Man
6) The Green Manalishi (With The Two-Pronged Crown)
7) Man Of The World
8) Something Inside Of Me
9) Looking For Somebody
10) Oh Well, Pt.1
11) Oh Well, Pt.2
12) Rattlesnake Shake
13) Merry-Go-Round
14) If I Loved Another Woman
15) Need Your Love Tonight
16) Worried Dream
17) Dragonfly
(Fleetwood Mac minus Peter Green)
18) Stop Messin' Round
19) Shake Your Moneymaker
20) I'd Rather Go Blind
(Christine Perfect & Chicken Shack)
21) Albatross
(Peter Green w/Chris Coco)


The Best Of Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac, Vol.2

1) Allow Me One More Show
2) Leavin' Town Blues
3) If You'll Be My Baby
4) Like Crying
5) Drifting
6) Stop Messin' Round
7) Without You
8) Blues In B Flat Minor (a.k.a. Before The Beginning)
9) The Madge Sessions, No.#2
10) Fighting For Madge
11) A Fool No More
12) My Dream
13) One Sunny Day
14) World In Harmony
15) Jigsaw Puzzle Blues
16) Rambling Pony, No.#2
17) Long Grey Mare
18) Watch Out
19) Love That Burns
20) Fleetwood Mac
21) Show-Biz Blues
22) World Keep On Turning
23) Underway
24) Can't Afford To Do It

Source material for 'The Best Of Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac, Vols.1,2 & 3' come from the following:

Fleetwood Mac (1968)/Mr. Wonderful (1968)/English Rose (1968)
Then Play On (1969)/The Pious Bird Of Good Omen (1969)
The Original Fleetwood Mac (1971)
The Vaudeville Years (1999)/Show-Biz Blues (2001)
Jumping At Shadows (2002)/The Best Of Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac (2002)

TR-i (The Rundgren Index) No.#7

The Perfect LP

Runt. The Ballad of Todd Rundgren

No.#7 in a series

Friday, June 04, 2010

No doubt everyone has a song that once captured a mood or a moment in their lives so accurately that it then becomes somehow sacred and profound, a hymnal of sorts. A simple melody and lyric that speaks so precisely to a particular feeling, situation, or circumstance that it freezes in time, captured like a hapless bug preserved in amber and is forever linked to that singular event. A song that so mirrors your own personal experience, it's as though the songwriter penned it specifically for you, and you alone. In the case of serious music lovers, it's often not merely one song, but several songs, or even an entire LP of songs that can read like yesterday's journal entry. For a close friend of mine it was The Who's, 'Quadrophenia,' a four-sided recording no less that addressed the kind of alienation that can only be felt by a teenager who sees more than just a bit of themselves in the rock opera's principle character. For another, it was the Tom Waits soundtrack to 'One From The Heart' which struck so deeply. Here too, my friend saw a glimpse of himself and his partner within the characters depicted in the film score. Their crumbling relationship echoed many of the same emotions that he and his wife were experiencing in their own painful divorce. Ironically then, the record album became the soundtrack to his own breakup. This is what good song writing and storytelling should do, art imitating life, and the musicians who then bring these tales to life have obviously succeeded in conveying the saga with emotional depth.

The LP that once resonated so strongly with me was neither a soundtrack, nor a 'concept' of any sort that might thematically link the tracks together. That is, no concept other than the fact that the recording was comprised primarily of piano driven ballads. Perhaps the only 'conceptual' thing about it was the cover art, a photo that playfully alluded to the general tenor of the contents within. Yet the album contained no linear storyline to speak of like the two soundtracks I mentioned previously. Despite this, every song was masterfully complete, each with simple lyrics that delivered a strong narrative, and each was complemented by music that not only deftly illuminated the song's inhabitants, but also captured the prevailing mood and emotion. Rarely before had I heard an entire album of seemingly unrelated songs that held together so well as a unified whole. 'Rubber Soul' may have been one, but there it was largely the warmth of the acoustic palette that unified the material. More akin to 'Blonde On Blonde,' or 'Beggar's Banquet,' what each of these songs best illustrated as a collective was an overall disposition, or state of mind. In this case that distinguishing temperament was simply the undercurrent of melancholia that ran through much of the the material. But as a document, the record was concise, well crafted, melodic and tuneful. The attention to detail was also apparent throughout. Thoughtful arrangements and a keen consideration of ebb and flow rewarded the listener with a lush, tasteful musical landscape that was evenly balanced. The record was also filled with hooks, humor and humility, and was nearly, or very nearly the 'perfect' LP. That record was 'Runt. The Ballad of Todd Rundgren.'

Before I even placed Rundgen's, 'Ballad...' on my turntable for the very first time, I sensed it would become a favorite. I had already entered the universe of Todd by way of the three Nazz LP's, as well as his previous solo debut. What I didn't count on was the sheer visceral impact the record would have on me. Placing the stylus on the vinyl, I listened in astonishment at just how precisely each and every song seemed to parallel my own immediate experience, and how accurately they reflected the inner workings of both my mind and heart. It was as though a stranger had been reading my freaking mail, and it completely blew my mind! The temperament of 12 songs from the pen of one man, spread across two sides of a single LP was that of my own disposition, my own state of mind. How could someone create and express with such authenticity the complex circumstances and emotions that I was involved with at that very moment in time? Impossible, it seemed. Not only that, but I was equally staggered by the quality of the song writing itself, how Rundgren's choice of notes and their placement within the arrangements were simply perfection. Of course I understood that these emotions were not at all unique to me alone. Everyone has longed for something, or someone. Has tried in earnest at achievement and failed. Likewise everyone has at one time or another found themselves in trapped in an uncomfortable circumstance with no easy way out, has suffered a broken heart, has felt empty and alone, forsaken and forlorn. Similarly, some may have been close to abandoning hope and in need of a well placed kick in the ass. These are universal experiences, I understood this. But on that particular afternoon, and for years to come, the songs that Rundgren created around those feelings seemed to have my name indelibly stamped on them. A ludicrous notion I know, most especially given that the LP was clearly and distinctly titled, 'The Ballad of Todd Rundgren,' not 'The Ballad of Miles Mellough.' It's laughable, right? Yeah, go ahead, yuck it up. Have a good one. I don't blame you. Yet the songs on that recording resonated with me on absolutely every level and immediately became something more than just another LP. It became a treasured touchstone even today for the times when I feel the kind of ache that was expressed in those songs.

About The Music

Given the title, as well as the intimacy of the material, one might rightly presume that 'The Ballad...' is an autobiographical document. Yet Rundgren has never since displayed any indication of possessing a woeful, disheartened spirit. At least not in his public life. Conversely, he carries himself with a self-assurance that often borders on cocky. So just what then did the author draw on to create such outwardly personal songs? If not from his own psyche, then certainly from that of others. Yet how was he able to make them appear so self-confessional? Obviously it speaks well of his ability to synthesize the human experience down to something that approximates brick and mortar. Purely an intellectual process. But why then direct the title toward himself? The answer to this has never been addressed, nor answered to my knowledge. But in typical fashion for the mercurial songwriter, Rundgren is largely dismissive of 'The Ballad...,' scornfully explaining it away as a mere exercise in developing his song craft. Well maybe so, but he more than successfully achieved his goal in penning songs that spoke to universal emotions. It is a superb collection of tiny four minute gems strung together like priceless jewels on a silver necklace. My own attachment to the record notwithstanding, it's a wonderful LP, and one unlike any other in his discography. In fact, it's probably the most disciplined record he's ever made. The short crystalline songs get straight to the point without once meandering from the form, and all are beautifully rendered with lovely melodies and lush harmonies. Most unusual is that the songs are piano centric rather than his more common guitar excursions. But whether it's keyboard or guitar, the solos are kept brief, the lyrics linear and straightforward, and the production rich and tasteful. His well documented proclivity for experimentation is nowhere to be found within the grooves of 'The Ballad....' It's simply as Todd might say, "a bouquet of ear catching melodies."

As for descriptions of the songs individually, I could easily write a book. But rather than do that, let me just say that if you can listen to something as lovely as 'The Ballad (Denny & Jean),' or as hauntingly sad as 'Wailing Wall' and not be affected, then there's simply no hope for you, and you'll certainly never win my friendship. As for the others, 'The Range War' can only be described as bittersweet, 'Chain Letter' as sharp, 'A Long Way...' an anthem. Meanwhile 'Boat On The Charles' is virtually a suicide note set to song. Three minutes and twenty-five seconds later comes 'Hope I'm Around,' indisputably one of Rundgren's best moments. And just when you can't take the heartache any longer, 'Parole' rollicks in with an absolutely killer riff and guitars, guitars, guitars, and then even more guitars. It's a well needed pressure valve to relieve the well of tears that came before. From there, the record concludes on a tender note with the emotive 'Remember Me.' In light of all that preceded, the songs sentiment raises more questions than it answers, especially when one ponders the jacket photos, and the effect is nothing short of chilling. But despite the aforementioned undercurrent of melancholia that informs the album, 'The Ballad...' is far from being hopelessly gloomy. Moody might be a better description of it's tenor. From the somber yet humorous cover art (if you understand Rundgren's sense of humor), to the plaintive ballads within, 'Runt. The Ballad of Todd Rundgren' is a gorgeous relic of the musician's coming of age as a songwriter, and is often overlooked by those who are only casually familiar with his music. But much like Brian Wilson's, 'Pet Sounds,' 'Runt. The Ballad of Todd Rundgren' is not only damn near Todd's crowning achievement, but conceivably even the perfect LP.

Runt. The Ballad of Todd Rundgren

1) Long Flowing Robe

2) The Ballad (Denny & Jean)

3) Bleeding

4) Wailing Wall

5) The Range War

6) Chain Letter

7) A Long Time, A Long Way To Go

8) Boat On The Charles

9) Be Nice To Me

10) Hope I'm Around

11) Parole

12) Remember Me


Bonus Tracks & WMMR-FM 1971 Broadcast

1) Program Intro*
2) Believe In Me*
3) Broke Down & Busted*
4) Say No More**
5) Studio Chatter*
6) Ooh Baby Baby*
7) Hope I'm Around (Early Version)**
8) Be Nice To Me*
9) It Wouldn't Have Made Any Difference (pre-Something/Anything?)*
10) The Ballad (Of Denny & Jean)*
11) Hold Me Tight*


*Recorded live on WMMR-FM, Philadelphia, June 30, 1971 ---
the same month 'Runt. The Ballad of Todd Rundgren' was first released.
'The Runt Band' featured Todd Rundgren, Tom Cosgrove, Stu Woods,
Moogy Klingman, N.D. Smart and The Hello People

**Two songs originally recorded in 1970 for 'Runt,' Rundgren's solo debut.
A limited number of albums with these two songs were issued before the album
was pulled, remixed, and re-released, excluding them the second time around.
I've included them here because a second version of 'Hope I'm Around'
ended up on 'The Ballad...,' and 'Say No More' would've fit in nicely too.

Tracks 2, 4, 6, 7, 8 & 11 are available as bonus tracks
in the Edsel Records, 'Todd Rundgren Reissue Series,'
and on the Japanese outtake compilation, 'Somewhere/Anywhere?'
Tracks 1, 3, 5, 9 & 10 are only available in the complete radio broadcast
which is only available as a bootleg and has been issued under several titles.



There's a whole lot more to be found in the TR-i (The Rundgren-index) series