Lp Song Quotes

Whenever the sixth tune on the flip side of the LP, “Atlanta Blues,” began, she would grab one of Tengo’s body parts and praise Bigard’s concise, exquisite solo, which was sandwiched between Armstrong’s song and his trumpet solo. “Listen to that! Amazing—that first, long wail like a little child’s cry! What is it—surprise? Overflowing joy? An appeal for happiness? It turns into a joyful sigh and weaves its way through a beautiful river of sound until it’s smoothly absorbed into some perfect, unknowable place. There! Listen! Nobody else can play such thrilling solos. Jimmy Noone, Sidney Bechet, Pee Wee Russell, Benny Goodman: they’re all great clarinetists, but none of them can create such perfectly sculptured works of art.

Pierre wakes up for good. As he's lying there yawning, he vaguely remembers a couple of false starts inspired by a ringing phone. He looks to his left. It's eleven. Next thing, he's stumbling down the hall toward his phone machine. 'Wait. Coffee,' he whispers in a shredded voice, veering back into the kitchen. He does what he has to, then plays back the messages, sips. Beep. 'It's Paul at Man Age. Appointment, twelve-thirty P.M., hour, Gramercy Park Hotel, room three-forty-four, name Terrence. Later.' Beep. 'Paul again. Appointment, two P.M., Washington Annex Hotel, room six-twenty, a play-it-by-ear, name Dennis, I think the same Dennis from last night. Check with us mid-afternoon. You're a popular dude. Later.' Beep. 'P., it's Marv, you there? . . . No? . . . Call me at work. Love ya.' On his way to the shower Pierre makes a stop at the stereo, plays side one of Here Comes the Warm Jets, an old Eno album. It's still on his turntable. It has this cool, deconstructive, self-conscious pop sound typical of the '70s Art Rock Pierre loves. He doesn't know why it's fantastic exactly. If he were articulate, and not just nosy, he'd write an essay about it. Instead he stomps around in the shower yelling the twisted lyrics. ' "By this time / I'd got to looking for a kind of / substitute . . ." ' It's weird to get lost in something so calculatedly chaotic. It's retro, pre-punk, bourgeois, meaningless, etc. ' ". . . I can't tell you quite how / except that it rhymes with / dissolute." ' Pierre covers his ears, beams, snorts wildly. Tying his sneakers, he flips the scuffed-up LP, plays his two favorite songs on the second side, which happen to sit third and fourth, and are aurally welded together by some distorted synthesizer-esque percussion, maybe ten, fifteen seconds in length. Pierre flops back in his chair, soaks the interlude up. It screeches, whines, bleeps like an orgasming robot.

And Denny Laine, just weeks after the LP was released, had developed a sour view of the project, and Wings generally. “I look on Band on the Run as definitely their [Paul and Linda’s] album,” he complained to Disc’s Caroline Boucher, while promoting Ahh . . . Laine!, finally released on December 7. “We’re not a group anymore. I’m one of the three, or I’m an individual. If it was Wings I’d feel more a part of it. But it’s not my songs and I’d like to feel more involved and contribute as much as they do.

38 Paul was still thinking of singles and albums as he did during the Beatles’ days, and as many British groups (and record labels) did in the 1960s—as separate releases, with no crossover. With few exceptions, when the Beatles released a song as a single, it was removed from consideration as an album track. They explained this as a value-for-money issue: fans who already bought a single should not have to buy those tracks again on the next LP. It was different in the United States. Singles were considered teasers for albums. Record executives like Coury considered albums more marketable when they had hits on them, and American consumers considered it a convenience to have the songs they knew as singles on albums as well. In the Beatles’ case, because Capitol LPs typically included 12 songs, compared with

Though illustrating a Wings LP, Arrowsmith’s cover shot also symbolized Paul’s feeling of contractual imprisonment with Apple. The seed of an idea sown by George at their July business meeting had now been captured in both song and photograph, and a veiled illustration of Paul’s desire to finally shed his legal ties with John, George, and Ringo would soon be in the hands of music fans.

The John Birch Society” in the early part of 1962, for example.58 The liner notes to the LP on which the song subsequently appeared, The Chad Mitchell Trio at the Bitter End—a live recording of a March 19, 1962,

Ohhhhhhhhhh The King’s hair is quite fair, And his smile’s all there. Yet beside of all this, The King has no heir! Foooooooooor The King is not there, down there. No the King is not there, down there. Aaaaaaaaaaaaall The maids are so pretty, And some even witty! But still no heir is there, And say so my ditty! The King is not there, down there. No the King is not there, down there. Sooooooooooo Don’t hang your brother, For the sake of your mother! Cuz we’ve still no heir to spare, Unless she whelped another! Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy The king is not there, down there. No, the King is not there, down there.

Meic Stevens, influential in his home country for founding psychedelic labels Sain and Wren and singing mystic troubadour songs in his native Welsh tongue. In autumn 1969 Stevens took part in an event playing alongside the ten-piece Indo-Jazz Fusions, and the following year the group’s sitarist Diwan Motihar and tabla player Keshav Sathe recorded parts on the Welshman’s Warners LP Outlander,