Bernie's Got A Brand New Bag ...
Or Maybe A New Bone To Pick? Either Way, It's ...
Okay, truth be told, at this point the band itself is not so new. Their first album ... er, CD (pardon me, I'm showing my age) ... came out back in 1996.It's entitled Last Stand In Open Country, and was released on Discovery, distributed by Warner Music. Your local fine music emporium should have a copy of it ... if it's worth it's weight in round metallic-looking objects, that is.
That first album slipped past me more efficiently than I ever would have imagined it could have. I think the label just didn't push it the way they should've. I mean, here I was, a fan of Bernie's work for such a long time (not to mention a fan of Rod Stewart's work as well), and a friend had to inform me of the album's release a few months after the fact. A few years ago I wasn't quite the web-surfer that I am now, so I missed out on seeing any info on-line as well. But thankfully, now that I was armed with a little knowledge, I was able to find a copy just down the street at The Music Arcade. (Y'know, I just love the name of that store - goofy, but fitting!)
I knew that this was going to be a blast when I spotted the words File Under "Great Music", a play on the old marketing strategy of the sixties, in the upper corner of the back cover. The band's careful combination of humor, warmth and ... well, the word "balls" probably sums it up best ... was instantly evident from the start. The front cover showed a storm out on an open plain. Brown. Earthy. The band's name, "FARM DOGS" appeared across the top, and the disc's title was in small type centered on the bottom. I opened it up and found a photo of the band on the back cover of the booklet. This was promising. An acoustic guitar, an electric guitar, and four faces and pairs of eyes that had obviously seen their share of the road, and of life in general.
Now, let me say that I like all types of music. Alright, maybe "Rap" can only be handled in minimal doses, but I believe that everything deserves a fair listen. Unfortunately, however, I haven't found a lot of music that's really thrilled me in recent years. I've found myself alternately digging the newer "folky" bands and checking out the latest "power pop" groups. The "bands de-jour", as I politely refer to group's like Oasis, often seem to pass me by.
I've also, since childhood, been a fan of Elton John's music. (Makes sense, I guess, seeing as how I've been following Bernie Taupin's work?!) While I thought that Elton's Made In England was somewhat of a return to form for him, I find that his music has been catering a bit more towards the 'middle of the road' in recent years. Too many drum machines. A bit too heavy on the synthesizers. Sure, The One had featured some beautiful songs, but the production just wasn't my bag. I needed more chops. I wanted some ... wood. Maybe Bernie would do another album with Alice Cooper? I dunno, somehow that didn't seem bloody likely.
Enter onto my unsuspecting CD player ... The Farm Dogs!
WOOF, indeed!
Wood. Lots of it. Guitars in harmony. A harmonica. Voices in harmony. And, son-of-a-gun ... I'd know that lead vocalist anywhere. It was Taupin himself! A new adventure was beginning. As the album progressed, I got very "psyched" for Bernie. From the sounds of things, he had found a new alliance. While his partnership with Elton had provided him with a one-on-one co-author who matched music to his lyrics with hand-in-glove efficiency, he seemed to have now become part of a "team". The noise that this band was making provided perfect accompaniment to Bernie's unique, expressive vocals. The proof of the comraderie was in the fact that the notes gave songwriting credit to the entire band, as a unit. These fellas weren't foolin' around. But then again, they seemed to be having a great time, didn't they?
I heard shades of Elton John's earlier works; pieces like Tumbleweed Connection or some of his classic B-sides. Elements reminiscent of The Grateful Dead, another one of my favorite bands, cropped up as well. I was getting that same kind of feeling that I had the first time I'd heard John Cougar's albums Scarecrow and Lonesome Jubilee. When the second track (Cinderella '67) introduced a new vocalist into the equation, I was reminded of both Rod Stewart and the late Ronnie Laine - in particular the latter's work with Pete Townshend on the album Rough Mix. There was passion in this music; not just in obviously "passionate" cuts like Burn This Bed, but in the more delicate songs, like Shameless, as well.
Taupin himself was at his best. I shook my head in disbelief at the fact that so many years down the road, the man can still toss out a phrase like:
That first album slipped past me more efficiently than I ever would have imagined it could have. I think the label just didn't push it the way they should've. I mean, here I was, a fan of Bernie's work for such a long time (not to mention a fan of Rod Stewart's work as well), and a friend had to inform me of the album's release a few months after the fact. A few years ago I wasn't quite the web-surfer that I am now, so I missed out on seeing any info on-line as well. But thankfully, now that I was armed with a little knowledge, I was able to find a copy just down the street at The Music Arcade. (Y'know, I just love the name of that store - goofy, but fitting!)
I knew that this was going to be a blast when I spotted the words File Under "Great Music", a play on the old marketing strategy of the sixties, in the upper corner of the back cover. The band's careful combination of humor, warmth and ... well, the word "balls" probably sums it up best ... was instantly evident from the start. The front cover showed a storm out on an open plain. Brown. Earthy. The band's name, "FARM DOGS" appeared across the top, and the disc's title was in small type centered on the bottom. I opened it up and found a photo of the band on the back cover of the booklet. This was promising. An acoustic guitar, an electric guitar, and four faces and pairs of eyes that had obviously seen their share of the road, and of life in general.
Now, let me say that I like all types of music. Alright, maybe "Rap" can only be handled in minimal doses, but I believe that everything deserves a fair listen. Unfortunately, however, I haven't found a lot of music that's really thrilled me in recent years. I've found myself alternately digging the newer "folky" bands and checking out the latest "power pop" groups. The "bands de-jour", as I politely refer to group's like Oasis, often seem to pass me by.
I've also, since childhood, been a fan of Elton John's music. (Makes sense, I guess, seeing as how I've been following Bernie Taupin's work?!) While I thought that Elton's Made In England was somewhat of a return to form for him, I find that his music has been catering a bit more towards the 'middle of the road' in recent years. Too many drum machines. A bit too heavy on the synthesizers. Sure, The One had featured some beautiful songs, but the production just wasn't my bag. I needed more chops. I wanted some ... wood. Maybe Bernie would do another album with Alice Cooper? I dunno, somehow that didn't seem bloody likely.
Enter onto my unsuspecting CD player ... The Farm Dogs!
WOOF, indeed!
Wood. Lots of it. Guitars in harmony. A harmonica. Voices in harmony. And, son-of-a-gun ... I'd know that lead vocalist anywhere. It was Taupin himself! A new adventure was beginning. As the album progressed, I got very "psyched" for Bernie. From the sounds of things, he had found a new alliance. While his partnership with Elton had provided him with a one-on-one co-author who matched music to his lyrics with hand-in-glove efficiency, he seemed to have now become part of a "team". The noise that this band was making provided perfect accompaniment to Bernie's unique, expressive vocals. The proof of the comraderie was in the fact that the notes gave songwriting credit to the entire band, as a unit. These fellas weren't foolin' around. But then again, they seemed to be having a great time, didn't they?
I heard shades of Elton John's earlier works; pieces like Tumbleweed Connection or some of his classic B-sides. Elements reminiscent of The Grateful Dead, another one of my favorite bands, cropped up as well. I was getting that same kind of feeling that I had the first time I'd heard John Cougar's albums Scarecrow and Lonesome Jubilee. When the second track (Cinderella '67) introduced a new vocalist into the equation, I was reminded of both Rod Stewart and the late Ronnie Laine - in particular the latter's work with Pete Townshend on the album Rough Mix. There was passion in this music; not just in obviously "passionate" cuts like Burn This Bed, but in the more delicate songs, like Shameless, as well.
Taupin himself was at his best. I shook my head in disbelief at the fact that so many years down the road, the man can still toss out a phrase like:
"Just the child of a cartoon bride
That got caught in a Disney twister Wound up human on the other side." - from Beautiful (I Don't Want To Be) Copyright 1996, The Farm Dogs |
Damn. I'm a lyricist myself, but this man still amazes me.
As I listened on, images leapt from the lyric booklet. Here was pure Americana. I am a thirty-something year old guy who is questioning, with intense regularity, where we - as a country and as a "people" - are really at, and where we are going. I am also "stuck", by that strange force that only a city like New York can exert on someone's soul; here in a suburb (Long Island) which is becoming increasingly more turbulent as the years go by. The line between urban and suburban grows shorter than the three letter suffix that differentiates the two words. Ironically, the one place where I have found solace in recent years is during my visits to the suburbs of England. Sometimes, quite simply, I really need to simplify. Music has always been the most effective (and probably the least expensive) way to stir that feeling in my soul well enough to tide me over for a while.
That album stayed in the car's CD changer for a long time. I was driving around convinced that I needed to find Dennis Hopper and Harry Dean Stanton and buy them both a drink someday. Oh, and by the way, I agree with you, Bernie ... DeNiro IS too fuckin' weird.
As I listened on, images leapt from the lyric booklet. Here was pure Americana. I am a thirty-something year old guy who is questioning, with intense regularity, where we - as a country and as a "people" - are really at, and where we are going. I am also "stuck", by that strange force that only a city like New York can exert on someone's soul; here in a suburb (Long Island) which is becoming increasingly more turbulent as the years go by. The line between urban and suburban grows shorter than the three letter suffix that differentiates the two words. Ironically, the one place where I have found solace in recent years is during my visits to the suburbs of England. Sometimes, quite simply, I really need to simplify. Music has always been the most effective (and probably the least expensive) way to stir that feeling in my soul well enough to tide me over for a while.
That album stayed in the car's CD changer for a long time. I was driving around convinced that I needed to find Dennis Hopper and Harry Dean Stanton and buy them both a drink someday. Oh, and by the way, I agree with you, Bernie ... DeNiro IS too fuckin' weird.
And then ...
A second album! IMMIGRANT SONS |
Congratulations, guys.
Let's see ... you crushed the concept of the "sophomore slump" that everyone speaks of in the music business to the ground. But hey, you guys have been in this game for a while ... so did anyone really expect any less?!?
This time around, I was there the day it came out of the box. I'll admit, I wasn't expecting it at all, but the manager of the local store saw my hand flash by as a quick blur when I snatched it out of his Tuesday "new release" shipment. I took it home, and was trying not to let expectations get too high. While I doubted that this would be the case, what if lightning was only going to strike once? Nah. Not with these guys.
And I was bowled over once again ... only harder. There is more amperage behind the passion, the power, the guitars and the harmonies this time around. The opening track, Foreign Windows screams for AIRPLAY! It hooked me right in, and the album maintains that level of quality throughout. I marvel at the fact that there can be so many damn hooks on this record, while it manages to not sound the least bit contrived or formulaic. It's from the heart .. and it's real good.
More Americana. A careful balance. There is hope and beauty ( Distance to the Mountain and Stars and Seeds ), interspersed with darkness ( Deep Dark Secret ) and grit ( Whiskey In The Bathtub ). Welcome to the U.S. of A., eh.
If I was still doing a radio show out here in the suburbs I wouldn't know what track to play first! Daria makes for a great choice as the lead single ... and friends of the Farmdogs have to get together and rally their local rock stations to add it to their playlists. I've got to say, though, that I've had America On Trial hopelessly stuck in my head on more than one day since the album's been out. Lightning on the Hill is another stand-out "rocker" in my opinion.
The delicate, heartfelt vocal on This Face makes this another highlight of the new disc. Maybe this one can grab the attention of those "soft/light rock" stations out there?
Let's see ... you crushed the concept of the "sophomore slump" that everyone speaks of in the music business to the ground. But hey, you guys have been in this game for a while ... so did anyone really expect any less?!?
This time around, I was there the day it came out of the box. I'll admit, I wasn't expecting it at all, but the manager of the local store saw my hand flash by as a quick blur when I snatched it out of his Tuesday "new release" shipment. I took it home, and was trying not to let expectations get too high. While I doubted that this would be the case, what if lightning was only going to strike once? Nah. Not with these guys.
And I was bowled over once again ... only harder. There is more amperage behind the passion, the power, the guitars and the harmonies this time around. The opening track, Foreign Windows screams for AIRPLAY! It hooked me right in, and the album maintains that level of quality throughout. I marvel at the fact that there can be so many damn hooks on this record, while it manages to not sound the least bit contrived or formulaic. It's from the heart .. and it's real good.
More Americana. A careful balance. There is hope and beauty ( Distance to the Mountain and Stars and Seeds ), interspersed with darkness ( Deep Dark Secret ) and grit ( Whiskey In The Bathtub ). Welcome to the U.S. of A., eh.
If I was still doing a radio show out here in the suburbs I wouldn't know what track to play first! Daria makes for a great choice as the lead single ... and friends of the Farmdogs have to get together and rally their local rock stations to add it to their playlists. I've got to say, though, that I've had America On Trial hopelessly stuck in my head on more than one day since the album's been out. Lightning on the Hill is another stand-out "rocker" in my opinion.
The delicate, heartfelt vocal on This Face makes this another highlight of the new disc. Maybe this one can grab the attention of those "soft/light rock" stations out there?
|
Which gets me off on another tangent. What IS with radio these days? Is it really as far down in the crapper in the rest of the country as it seems to be here in New York. Image. That's all it's about these days ... image. If it looks like a duck and acts like a duck, then it must be a duck, right? The only problem is that nobody ever listens to hear whether or not it SOUNDS like a duck before they pigeon-hole it into where they think it belongs, or doesn't belong, on the dial. Oh, and it's actually image AND demographics. What audience does this music sell products to? I know ... it's always been a business, but things have really gotten out of hand, haven't they.
I hate to say this, but it's probably a good idea that the photo of the guys doesn't grace the front cover of the new disc. If the band doesn't have pins sticking out of various orifices, they can't be making anything close to "vital" noise, can they? If they look like older, "worn and lived in" rockers, are station directors going to lump them in with the tired sounding MOR pseudo-rockers that are constantly sliding up the charts when I, for one, mustn't be looking?
Scary stuff. When I was a kid, I remember hearing R&B, pop, light fluff, and hard rock all on the same station - the Top 40 - all day long. Nowadays, the folks who quickly dole out all of the labels and subdivisions don't take one simple point into account - some people simply want to hear good music ... and in a variety of styles at that. Good God ... I'm soundin' old.
I hate to say this, but it's probably a good idea that the photo of the guys doesn't grace the front cover of the new disc. If the band doesn't have pins sticking out of various orifices, they can't be making anything close to "vital" noise, can they? If they look like older, "worn and lived in" rockers, are station directors going to lump them in with the tired sounding MOR pseudo-rockers that are constantly sliding up the charts when I, for one, mustn't be looking?
Scary stuff. When I was a kid, I remember hearing R&B, pop, light fluff, and hard rock all on the same station - the Top 40 - all day long. Nowadays, the folks who quickly dole out all of the labels and subdivisions don't take one simple point into account - some people simply want to hear good music ... and in a variety of styles at that. Good God ... I'm soundin' old.
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Let me close by saying "thanks" for the albums, guys. You've given me some great Aimless Driving music over the past couple of years.
And as life goes on, my relationships shift and change, and tranquility and frustration try to strike an even balance in my restless thirty-something heart, I find it incredible that words from a certain Mr. Taupin's pen still manage to nail my feelings down in their completely inimitable fashion. Amazing.
P.S. Finally, as my collaborator, John Keating, and I plow ahead with our own music, we look at The Farm Dogs as a reminder that there is still a place out there for music that comes from the heart - which is where the two of us are trying hard to shoot from. Sure, there are bound to be some shots that come from the hip now and then, but that'll just keep folks on their toes, won't it.
(Note: Photos of The Farmdogs at the Bottom Line can be seen elsewhere on the site.)
And as life goes on, my relationships shift and change, and tranquility and frustration try to strike an even balance in my restless thirty-something heart, I find it incredible that words from a certain Mr. Taupin's pen still manage to nail my feelings down in their completely inimitable fashion. Amazing.
P.S. Finally, as my collaborator, John Keating, and I plow ahead with our own music, we look at The Farm Dogs as a reminder that there is still a place out there for music that comes from the heart - which is where the two of us are trying hard to shoot from. Sure, there are bound to be some shots that come from the hip now and then, but that'll just keep folks on their toes, won't it.
(Note: Photos of The Farmdogs at the Bottom Line can be seen elsewhere on the site.)