Of all the cartoon jobs I did, the Lab On The Run episode of Dexter's Laboratory seems to be the most recognized. Chris Savino and David Smith intended the episode as something of a Fernwood 2Night tribute with Martin Mull and Fred Willard, so they needed something more 70's than their usual music crew was into. I'd just done their Flintstones movie, so David Smith called me. He asked if I could do seventies horn section funk and -- if possible -- could I sneak some jazz guitar in there (because that's what Mull always did on his own records).
(I was a huge fan of Martin Mull's comedy albums, so I knew what he meant.)
Trivia fact: this is the only episode ever to have something other than the usual end title theme played over the end credits.
My first venture into animation music was this -- Cartoon Network's original movie Flintstones On The Rocks.
I got the gig because Joey Altruda and the producers got into a dispute. So I got a call from Jennifer Pelphrey, now the head of production at Cartoon Network, also the wife of my best pal, Art Fein. Would I be able to write music for as cartoon?
(At this point, I only had one feature under my belt, but the Couch, Los Angeles disc pointed up to that I might have some potential for cartoons.)
I met with the producers, Chris Savino and David Smith, and they asked if I could do a demo that would be equal parts exotica and ranchera for the scene where the Flintstone's and Rubble's were driving through the desert. I said yes.
I wrote a one-minute demo and Robert Drasnin played all the parts on synthesizer, except the bongo part, which I played on a plastic trash can. By contemporary standards, it was a very rustic affair, but it got the gig. The first thing on the list: a new big band arrangement of the immortal theme with breaks for speaking. If possible, a little faster, brighter, and more tense. So I kicked five beats per minute faster, put flugelhorns (brass) where the alto saxophone usually goes, and put more xylophone stuff in there, as well as doing some Kenton-y saxophone writing.
The group on this song was Skip Waring (all trumpets, flugelhorn, valve trombone), Pablo Colgero (all saxophones), Mike Rocke (piano), Dan Brownfield (electric bass), and DJ Bonebrake (drums and xylophone). The singers were Jennell Hawkins, Chris Montez, and Guy Pohlman.
Kinda self-explanatory. Merle does a guest shot on Ern's TV show. Great vibe, fantastic playing. Politically uncorrect song, too. Followede by "Nine Pound Hammer" and "Smoke Smoke Smoke", unplugged for real.
One of the few compositions of my own I ever cut twice in the studio, the first time as a cowboy ballad on the second album I ever produced, Ray Campi's Train Rhythm Blue, and then with this arrangement, on my trio CD Bear Flag.
I'm really fond of this performance, on a morning news show in Mobile, AL, with the trio that in most ways was my best, with Chris Spies on organ and my soul brother David White on drums.
I'm homesick for my Alabama friends right now, and I hope this performance tells you why.
By the way -- that red Fender Duo-Sonic I'm playing there was a gift from George Wendt. I've since handed it over to Jamie Hartford's daughter, except Jamie seems to like it better than she does.
David, Billy, May, Camilla, Lisa, Leslie -- see you at Waffle House.
mp3: Bob Dorough and Skip Heller Play Eric Spiegel
A special mp3-only album --
Bob Dorough is one of the greatest jazz singers to play great piano. Or maybe one of the best jazz piano players to sing jazz this well. For sure -- the only singer ever to have recorded in a group led by Miles Davis. And the mastermind behind Schoolhouse Rock. And the composer of some real jazz standards, my favorite being "Devil May Care."
He was the hero of my late friend Eric Spiegel, the guy who taught me how to play changes and standards and all. Eric was a great singing piano player, too, and he did a ton of Bob's music. When Eric died a few years back, I tried to think of a way to pay tribute to him that would have touched him if he were alive to see it. His hero "sitting in" for him would have knocked him out.
Dorough is the closest anyone living comes to Jack Teagarden. We made this album to celebrate our pal.
vid: the roots of the california rockabilly revival
I have intense friends, not the least of which are Rockin' Ronny Weiser and Ray Campi. This is an edited version of the segment on them from Elizabeth Blozan's excellent doc Rebel Beat. It was (I add immodestly) my idea that she delve into Rockin' Ronny's contribution to the music, as well as Ray's.
Ronny and Ray toned it down for their interviews. But I swear: Rockin' Ronny is every bit as intense as his shirt collection would have you believe.
Here's Rod Serling, one of my all-time guys, interviewed by Mike Wallace prior to the airing of the first Twilight Zone episode. It's a great interview and interesting on so many levels. Serling discusses Paddy Chayefsky with a veneration most easily compared to Pete Seeger talking about Woody Guthrie. Also, although this is only about '58, Serling recalls the early days of television as if they are light years behind him.
By the way -- Twilight Zone was not quite the cash cow for Serling that he hoped it would be nor that most of us assume it was.
Both Wallace and Serling are smoking like chimneys on camera. Serling is very squirmy and earnest. Hard to believe he'd soon be the confident, charismatic, mysterious guy who gave us the keys to the Twilight Zone every week.
My thoughts on Bing Crosby are outlined in depth elsewhere on this blog.
In the early 50s (or so), Bing attempted his own TV show for GE. One of the great surviving gems of it is a clip of Bing singing "Y'all Come" with a band that featured the incredible Speedy West on steel guitar.
Years ago, my dear pal and most reliable drummer Howard Greene told me he had this record and always loved the steel solo. So, Howard, here's that record, that steel player, and on skipheller.com (for which you we the first webmaster).
By the way -- we're fortunate that Speedy was filmed prolifically compared to other great country instrumentalists of the period. Ain't like there's hours of Benny Martin or even Jethro Burns crowding youtube these days.
Those of you who know me know I treasure no record as much as I treasure John Hartford's 1971 masterpiece Aereo Plain, a record so rich and complete that I cannot possible tell you all about it.
Aereo Plain featured John fronting a truly all-star band. Norman Blake (guitar and some mandolin), Tut Taylor (dobro and some mandolin) and the incredible Vassar Clements on fiddle. The first time Vassar, John, and Norman played together is captured on this clip. The Johnny Cash Show, 1969. John is ostensibly there to push his self-titled RCA album of that year. He sings "I've Heard That Tearstained Monologue You Do There By The Door Before You Go". Then Johnny comes out, they speak briefly, and they launch into a medley of Bill Monroe songs. Norman is on mando (looking remarkably nerdy compared to the goateed Norman we've come to know), Vassar on fiddle, and the excitement and sheer joy of the moment is enough to number the days for John's Iron Mountain Depot band, which featured my dear friend Colin Cameron on bass.
The late, great Steve Goodman, although from Chicago, sure played Philly enough, sometimes alongside his friend John Prine in some memorable shots at the Phila Folk Fest. I recall a performancer of him and Prine at the '74 fest that was shown on Channel 12, the local PBS channel.
(If anyone videoed those TV shows, I absolutely NEED the whole season of that show.)
While John Hartford was my North Star and Bromberg and Blake defined my aesthetic in a so deep a way that it took the Ramones to shake me up.
But Steve Goodman was the first folk guy I heard do standards -- specifically "It's A Sin To Tell A Lie". And, boy, could he solo. He also wrote "City Of New Orleans" and was a close associate of John Prine and produced his last great album, Bruised Orange.
Ironically, the song real folk people associate most closely with Steve Goodman was written by Mike Smith, a song called "The Dutchman".
The old guy playing the mandolin here is God. Yep -- it's Jethro Burns, another close associate of Steve Goodman.
I've been nostalgic for ranchera music lately. This is one of the warhorse songs in the style, with Vincente Fernandez at the top of his very formidable game. I need some ribs and tamales now.
I agree with what Merle Haggard told the great interviewer Kristine McKenna -- Crosby was the greatest and that Sinatra was the only guy whose style was sufficiently original to actually eclipse Crosby.
There's a school of thought among a few that Russ Colombo was the greatest singer of the crooning generation, but that's science fiction. Crosby was in that rarified timeless league with Armstrong, Sinatra, Teagarden, Ray Charles, and those far too few others who remake the American songbook in their own image. Tony Bennett isn't in this league.
"Now You Has Jazz" was born as a sort of throwaway hootenany for the film High Society, and it's reprised here for the same edsel show from which the Sinatra clip was drawn. Notice how Crosby -- backed by one of Louis Armstrong's best All-Star's -- does not get lost in the shuffle. Pianist Billy Kyle, criminally unheralded, is of particular note, but (reasons to be cheerful) we also get great footage of Trummy Young and Edmund Hall. And Bing and Louis taking this piece of fluff and making it into an excuse to sneak the real deal into a lot of living rooms.
Continuing our series of cheaply assembled music vid for the upcoming disc, The Long Way Home, here's a vid for "At My Age", which is me channeling my inner Bobbie Gentry.
In the post-Bing Crosby universe, nobody could beat Sinatra for sheer art. Nobody ever gave Frank the respect as a pure jazz singer that Bing got, and -- okay, Bing really did invent the post-Armstrong notion of what a jazz singer is -- except musicians. Frank Sinatra's self-assurance gave him an incredible flexibility, and his ability to stand his musical ground next to anyone, anytime, anywhere is up there with Johnny Cash's.
I was thinking about that and wondering, if as Johnny had, Sinatra had ever dueted with Louis Armstrong, who was not only in some ways my country's greatest artist, but also one of the most magnanimous duet partners. Viola! A 1957 clip from The Edsel Show, and it's beaut. No lipsynching. Just a really great performance, and a chance to do something truly spectacular: to watch Louis Armstrong.
Pete Seeger is one of my great heroes. His love of songs and their role in the world is truly inspiring. This is a recent clip of him on Amy Goodman's Democracy Now!, talking about singing on the Smothers Brothers show at the height of Viet Nam, and of wars and their songs.
Hank had an amazing life story -- grew up an abused child in Nova Scotia, heard Jimmie Rogers, and went on to have a long, long career. His influence on both Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson (and me) is huge, plus -- though he doesn't play a solo here -- was one of the freshest guitarists ever to take a solo in Nashville (Chet Atkins idolized him).
He's a clip of Hank actually playing, not lipsynching. Note Chubby Wise on fiddle.
this song will also be on the new disc. i wrote this song at last word books in west philly. this is what you kinda music get for free in little tokyo on a sunday.
