The Jams

"I met this girl for the first time on Saturday night...."


Very early AC/DC, 1974. Dressed like rejects from the auditions for Queen, playing what is essentially a rockabilly jam, via Gibson, Fender and Gretsch. The beginnings of their tongue-in-cheek, fun filled and goofy brand of filthy rock n roll. It was a promise to be later fulfilled by the arrival of Bon Scott (more on him later), and lost in the wind with Brian Johnson and too much touring into too old age.

AC/DC has been with me for a long time. I found them as a teenager in high school, stuck with them through the punk years, and still enjoy them on the turntable with the volume way up. Despite their solidly cemented place in the annals of big bad bar rock of the 1970s, they managed to do it with enough humor to keep it timeless.

And for what its worth, Angus Young has been teaching me for years that there's nothing wrong with being the only guy in a jacket and tie if that's the way you're feeling it. In a world filled with jeans, t-shirts and beer, he was a king among men, always in a tie.

p.s. given the fact that for those of us with social lives, Saturday is for parties,my infrequent series of posts "the Jams" will now be a semi regular feature on weekends. It will give me an excuse to continue to dig up great moments in music the older among you may remember fondly and the younger among you can thank me for teaching to you.

The Jams

In the old days, I worked in a down and dirty crazy thrift shop. We had a record department. Not like we just sold records, we actually had a full blast record department, and I was in charge of it. This meant that besides organizing and pricing all the records, it was also my job to go out and find them. I loved it. Once, when I was out scouring the globe for slabs of vinyl, at the tender age of 24, anno Domini 2000 or so, I acquired a heap of r&b for the shop. Among it was the self titled first album by Funkadelic.

By this time in my life, I had heard of Parliament Funkadelic, or "P-Funk". I knew all about George Clinton. Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg had made my generation aware of them. But 1969 era original Funkadelic was something else entirely. Sure, the outrageous outfits and showmanship of the later years would steal the show, what with Bootsy Collins and all. But this old stuff was raw, simple, drect and grimy. Funk in its purest, undistilled form. Funk driven by gospel harmony, Hammond organs, Fender and Gibson guitars, and Gretsch drums. Funk that still has the stink of Jazz on its boot heel. Funk with a meaning far deeper than simple goof ball, pimped out party jams. I was hooked the minute I got this record home, and 10 years later it remains a precious favorite. In all these years, its the only record I know of that can actually make you feel a little like you've been smoking weed, given of course that you know what that's like in the first place.

Godammit.

correction: Rogers drums, not Gretsch. Equally good, if not better.

p.s. A black man in a purple satin KKK robe with police style sunglasses. How are you gonna argue with that?