flippyshark
02-17-2005, 06:56 PM
Since HTHBellcaptain and I have been trolling the aisles of our local vinyl vendor (Rock N' Roll Heaven), I thought it might be fun to post a review or two of some of my record purchases. I start with an unjustly forgotten pop masterpiece from glitzy, once-outrageous San Francisco superband The Tubes.
REMOTE CONTROL
The Tubes
Released by A&M Records in 1979
Not available domestically on cd - (All of the tracks on the album were included on a Tubes compilation sold in Europe, but this is out of print.)
The Tubes struggled to stay relevant in 1979. Their satirical, highly theatrical stage act was uncomfortably close to the excesses of progressive rock. Though they had scored a hit with the proto-punk ballad "White Punks On Dope," lead man Fee Waybill's bulge-trousered "Johnny Quay and the Lewds" persona was clearly not the real thing when compared to Johnny Rotten and the brash, rude wave of punk energy that had arrived from London.
Taking a different tack, The Tubes hooked up with producer and Utopia frontman Todd Rundgren for REMOTE CONTROL - a concept album about a frustrated everyman whose reality is dictated by what he sees on TV.
The front cover delivers the basic thesis right away. It portrays a newborn infant, safely ensconced in a futuristic baby carriage, TV tube just inches away from his face, the nipple of a baby bottle conveniently jutting from beside the screen (which is showing Hollywood Squares) - bottle and tube provide pablum for the body and mind from day one.
In spite of this MacLuhan-esque conceit, the music is accesible and fun. It almost plays like a rock opera - our hero wants to live life to its fullest, but he has only the tools that television has given him. A nobody at work and a failure at love, he eventually allows himself to be completely subsumed by the only thing he has ever succeeded in relating to.
I recall thinking at the time this record came out that it could have been made into a film, like TOMMY (or the eventual PINK FLOYD THE WALL). Nowadays, it practically sounds like a musical version of David Cronenberg's 1983 film VIDEODROME, reconceived as pop entertainment. Witness the following lyrics from the track "TV Is King."
"You're just a tube of full of gas and a box made of tin,
But you show me your junk and I want to come in
Oh, If only your chassis were covered in skin
'Cause TV You're my everything"
If you've seen VIDEODROME, you can hardly help but instantly visualize the scene where James Woods sinks his face into the pulsating screen image of Deborah Harry while his TV turns fleshy. Did Cronenberg buy this album?
For the curious, three of this album's best tracks are easily downloadable or purchaseable as part of the 20th Century Masters series release "The Best of The Tubes." I will discuss those three tracks here. (All three stand alone just fine without the surrounding concept.)
"I Want It All Now" - This brisk pop anthem gives a poignant glimpse of a man in search of immediate gratification, in life and love - a chorus of voices advises him, "just take it one day at a time - you'll have to learn to wait in line." It's a terrific song about frustration everyone faces - unrealistic expectations, and the tiresome but undeniable truth that nothing comes easily.
"Prime Time" - Sultry-voiced Re Styles (who disappeared from the band and apparently from the face of the earth after this album) is the seductive voice of the television, singing a duet, beconing our hero to spend all his "prime time" sucking at what Harlan Ellison called The Glass Teat. Again, the spector of VIDEODROME crops up, as Styles' delivery is easy to associate with Debbie Harry's disembodied femme fatale. But this song works fine as a catchy romantic number as well. It got a little bit of radio play, and I have overheard it occasionally on 80's stations, though it's technically a 70's tune.
"Love's A Mystery (I Don't Understand)" The influence of producer Todd Rundgren is most noticeable in this gorgeous ballad, and may remind listener's of Rundgren's hit "Can We Still Be Friends," a tune which can make my face leak if I catch it on a melancholy afternoon. I will go ahead and 'fess up that "Love's A Mystery" got my ducts watery right away, partly from the nostalgia of getting re-acquainted with a song long unheard. The very simple melody line that opens the song, "Real, almost real..." sets up a plaintive and memorable chorus that ought to have caught on. This is the clear highlight of the album, and should have been a hit, but I'm kind of glad it wasn't. I would have hated to over-hear this song to the point of not caring about it anymore. As it is, I get to count this as one of my "buried treasure" favorites. It's unabashedly goopy, so your mileage may vary.
Of those tracks that you can't find without the vinyl (or the rare European cd) the best are "TV Is King," "Be Mine Tonight," and the finale track, "Telecide."
"Telecide" charts our hero's disappearance from the real world, and can be read as either a literal or figurative suicide. The number begins with a furious, almost punk beat and launches into a frenzied patter-song of pop culture reference points and TV soundbite cliches. ("Please stand by, we're coming to you live, this one is so juicy, we're pre-empting Lucy.") It evolves into a prog-rock instrumental with some searing guitar solo work.
The album wasn't a huge hit, and A&M hasn't been in any hurry to let it out of the vaults, but if this review peaks your curiosity, I'd recommend at least giving the tracks on the "Best Of" collection a listen. Better yet, find a copy for four bucks at your local used record store and give it a spin. Thanks for reading.
REMOTE CONTROL
The Tubes
Released by A&M Records in 1979
Not available domestically on cd - (All of the tracks on the album were included on a Tubes compilation sold in Europe, but this is out of print.)
The Tubes struggled to stay relevant in 1979. Their satirical, highly theatrical stage act was uncomfortably close to the excesses of progressive rock. Though they had scored a hit with the proto-punk ballad "White Punks On Dope," lead man Fee Waybill's bulge-trousered "Johnny Quay and the Lewds" persona was clearly not the real thing when compared to Johnny Rotten and the brash, rude wave of punk energy that had arrived from London.
Taking a different tack, The Tubes hooked up with producer and Utopia frontman Todd Rundgren for REMOTE CONTROL - a concept album about a frustrated everyman whose reality is dictated by what he sees on TV.
The front cover delivers the basic thesis right away. It portrays a newborn infant, safely ensconced in a futuristic baby carriage, TV tube just inches away from his face, the nipple of a baby bottle conveniently jutting from beside the screen (which is showing Hollywood Squares) - bottle and tube provide pablum for the body and mind from day one.
In spite of this MacLuhan-esque conceit, the music is accesible and fun. It almost plays like a rock opera - our hero wants to live life to its fullest, but he has only the tools that television has given him. A nobody at work and a failure at love, he eventually allows himself to be completely subsumed by the only thing he has ever succeeded in relating to.
I recall thinking at the time this record came out that it could have been made into a film, like TOMMY (or the eventual PINK FLOYD THE WALL). Nowadays, it practically sounds like a musical version of David Cronenberg's 1983 film VIDEODROME, reconceived as pop entertainment. Witness the following lyrics from the track "TV Is King."
"You're just a tube of full of gas and a box made of tin,
But you show me your junk and I want to come in
Oh, If only your chassis were covered in skin
'Cause TV You're my everything"
If you've seen VIDEODROME, you can hardly help but instantly visualize the scene where James Woods sinks his face into the pulsating screen image of Deborah Harry while his TV turns fleshy. Did Cronenberg buy this album?
For the curious, three of this album's best tracks are easily downloadable or purchaseable as part of the 20th Century Masters series release "The Best of The Tubes." I will discuss those three tracks here. (All three stand alone just fine without the surrounding concept.)
"I Want It All Now" - This brisk pop anthem gives a poignant glimpse of a man in search of immediate gratification, in life and love - a chorus of voices advises him, "just take it one day at a time - you'll have to learn to wait in line." It's a terrific song about frustration everyone faces - unrealistic expectations, and the tiresome but undeniable truth that nothing comes easily.
"Prime Time" - Sultry-voiced Re Styles (who disappeared from the band and apparently from the face of the earth after this album) is the seductive voice of the television, singing a duet, beconing our hero to spend all his "prime time" sucking at what Harlan Ellison called The Glass Teat. Again, the spector of VIDEODROME crops up, as Styles' delivery is easy to associate with Debbie Harry's disembodied femme fatale. But this song works fine as a catchy romantic number as well. It got a little bit of radio play, and I have overheard it occasionally on 80's stations, though it's technically a 70's tune.
"Love's A Mystery (I Don't Understand)" The influence of producer Todd Rundgren is most noticeable in this gorgeous ballad, and may remind listener's of Rundgren's hit "Can We Still Be Friends," a tune which can make my face leak if I catch it on a melancholy afternoon. I will go ahead and 'fess up that "Love's A Mystery" got my ducts watery right away, partly from the nostalgia of getting re-acquainted with a song long unheard. The very simple melody line that opens the song, "Real, almost real..." sets up a plaintive and memorable chorus that ought to have caught on. This is the clear highlight of the album, and should have been a hit, but I'm kind of glad it wasn't. I would have hated to over-hear this song to the point of not caring about it anymore. As it is, I get to count this as one of my "buried treasure" favorites. It's unabashedly goopy, so your mileage may vary.
Of those tracks that you can't find without the vinyl (or the rare European cd) the best are "TV Is King," "Be Mine Tonight," and the finale track, "Telecide."
"Telecide" charts our hero's disappearance from the real world, and can be read as either a literal or figurative suicide. The number begins with a furious, almost punk beat and launches into a frenzied patter-song of pop culture reference points and TV soundbite cliches. ("Please stand by, we're coming to you live, this one is so juicy, we're pre-empting Lucy.") It evolves into a prog-rock instrumental with some searing guitar solo work.
The album wasn't a huge hit, and A&M hasn't been in any hurry to let it out of the vaults, but if this review peaks your curiosity, I'd recommend at least giving the tracks on the "Best Of" collection a listen. Better yet, find a copy for four bucks at your local used record store and give it a spin. Thanks for reading.