The Jams

In Boston, we are fortunate enough to have excellent jazz programming on the radio every day from 5:00 am until 1:00 pm, thanks to Harvard's radio station WHRB. It may be hopelessly old fashioned, but that's still how I find out about a lot of the music I eventually come to love. I hear new things on the radio, write down the names and seek them out. Add to that my late-to-the-party discovery of discogs.com and we have a potentially dangerous situation. Most recently I discovered the album "Puttin' It Together" by the Elvin Jones trio, currently on it's way to the house. "Sweet Little Maia" is from that album. Besides being a mega-jam, this performance serves a triumvirate of style lessons, hence making it loosely appropriate for a clothing blog.

Elvin Jones, the groups leader and drummer, keeps things simple and classy in a plain tuxedo, not unlike what he often wore during his six year stint with the massively influential John Coltrane Quartet. The tie tucked under the shirt collar may be a dated, and the barrel cuffs on what appear to be a normal white shirt rather than a pleated formal one remind of that old style casual black tie that we lost sight of in the last forty years. Despite how you might feel about these inconsequential transgressions, playing the drums as well as Elvin does kind of gives you a pass.

Jimmy Garrison, also late of the John Coltrane Quartet, shows us that maybe, just maybe, there are situations in which a Nehru jacket and turtleneck can be not only acceptable, but downright cool. Those situations include being Jimmy Garrison and performing jaw dropping bass solos in 1968. Don' try it at home.

Joe Farrell presents a style anomaly. His look is very high school chemistry teacher, and I can almost feel the thickness of his polyester through the screen. But he proves that just because you're a badly dressed white guy playing a soprano sax doesn't necessarily mean you're painfully lame. This of course flies in the face of Kenny G.'s entire musical career.

Can't wait for this record to arrive. Once it does, I can almost guarantee that it will be in regular rotation on the turntable at the AAW Shop. Drop by some Saturday if you want to give it a listen.

The Striped Tee

Though it may seem something of a sacrilege to many around here, I have to admit that this Summer I have come around to the idea of the striped tee shirt. Double indemnity for liking it especially well when paired with high waisted pleated pants. More on this to come.

The Jams: Guilty Pleasures Edition

Dammit, Linda Ronstadt So seemingly silly...yet so great. Bonus points for Dan Electro teardrop guitar
Ah, Johnny Rotten. A punk icon to be sure, and yet he winds up appearing in a great suit, albeit with white shoes and a cheap tux shirt buttoned to the top without a tie.

 All of the above noted Jams were meant for the youth of their day, yet I find that I could not appreciate any of them until just now,at the age of 37, with a couple of kids in tow. I know now, however, that each is a full jam in its way.And so it turns out, I guess, that as we age our subversive tastes need not decline, but rather remain and evolve...for those of us that really mean it anyway. Earlier this evening, I heard "Just One Look" in its original incarnation by Doris Troy, a jam to be sure. In searching the Youtubes for a video, I stumbled on Ms. Ronstadt and her band nailing it...hard..in 1980. I'm generally loathe to say that a cover is better than its original, except sometimes it is. (see Blue Cheer: Summertime Blues)

 I listened to "I Know What Boys Like" by The Waitresses all through my punk years, and pretended not to like it, but in fact I always loved it. The older I get, the less time I have to pretend.

 The other day I found myself in line at a local thrift, diligently working to bring you all the best of the old stuff, when "Rise" by Public Image Limited came on the stereo. After years of hearing it, it finally dawned on me that it was the voice of Johnny Rotten. I had of course come to know our Mr. Rotten as an icon of Punk, but had also been conditioned to revile any solo work that happened in the mid 80s. Despite his overwrought "crazy bug eyed face" posture in the video, I think the song stands for itself.

 Actually, nix the "guilty pleasures" part of the title of this post. Whats to be guilty for, anyway? These songs, despite being stylistically "so eighties" transcend all that, not unlike classic clothing, good cooking, or any other well presented work of art.

The Jams

H-E-L-L-O Hello Please don't rattle the ice in your drinks.

 I bought the record last week and have listened to this song almost every day since. The Jams on a high level.

The Jams : Prodigal Sons (equipment edition)

I got this KLH Model Twenty-Four record player and FM radio at a thrift store (of course) a long time ago. For years, I had it set up in the basement of my house where I ran the AAW online store. Now it sees active duty in the AAW physical shop.

The vintage 1960s toothbrush actually came with it. You all know that I'm a vinyl snob/nerd, and I have a particular soft spot for old KLH, the Cambridge Massachusetts company that went on to become Cambridge Soundworks. This is a good unit, perfect for a small room. Trouble is, I never had the speaker. I've been using an old pair of plastic speakers that originally were part of a folding portable record player. Not the best, but they do they have the matching inputs and they get the job done. 

Then the other day, these turned up at the very same thrift shop that the record player came from in the first place. Heavy wood and heavy tweed.

The actual speakers that belong with the stereo. What are the chances? 

Thrift shopping can be aggravating in a way that "normal" shopping is not, but it also offers the fun of moments like these, the thrill of chance and the element of surprise.   There's nothing like a family reunion when the prodigal son decides to return.

The Jams

I don't want to be an old fart, but I know when I'm not hip, or however they call that these days. Still, I like to have at least a vague idea of what the kids are into. But, whenever something is a "thing", and too popular, I am loathe to admit its value. Now that its a few Summer's old, I think I can safely admit that "Electric Feel" by MGMT is a full blown jam, what we used to call a "sex jam" or a "soaker" in the day. When its so hot you can't help but reek of human, these kind of songs are the Jam.

XOXOXO part 2

Damn...Seriously.

The Jams: A Tux and a Tank Top

A tux...
and a  tank top.

I like to rail on about the sorry state of decorum and comportment these days. And one of my favorite soap box speeches is the one about proper dress being an outward expression of one's respect for the situatuion at hand and the other people involved. And I stick by all that.

There are those that will say that dress is meaningless, it's what you do that counts. True. The trick is to do whatever that is so well that no one pays attention to your clothes. Buddy Rich can do more in a tux than most guys. John Henry Bonham can wear what the hell he wants. Can you?

p.s. don't forget...all items on sale 20% off in the Shop through Sunday. Used discount code "SUMMER2012".

The Jams (poor Jack)

I've always felt sympathy for Jack Bruce. Eric Clapton and Ginger Baker be damned, he was always the best part of Cream.

I mean, after all, besides the excessive cool points he gets for playing a Gibson EB3  bass in the first place, and with his fingers at that, he sang all the damn songs(at least all the best ones).

p.s. even better

The Jams

Who?
Who. That's who.

It's funny. The Brits gave the world menswear as we know it. Then we Americans took it and twisted it and give it back as our own thing, a style to be often imitated but never quite stolen.

Americans gave the world electric guitars, drum kits, and rock 'n roll. Then the Brits took it and twisted it and gave it back as their own thing, a style (punk, metal, psychedelic, etc.) to be often imitated but never quite stolen.

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?