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U2, Black Eyed Peas, and Mick Jagger perform “Gimme Shelter”

On Thursday and Friday of last week, the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame celebrated their 25th anniversary of honoring some good bands but forgetting many others. HBO will air the event on November 29th, featuring performances from John Fogerty, Crosby Stills & Nash, Bruce Springsteen, Patti Smith, and many others.

Nevertheless, I know I’m going to forget about it. Thankfully, Sterogum has already posted some footage from both nights. In the video above, U2, the Black Eyed Peas, Mick Jagger, and a string section come together to perform the Rolling Stones classic “Gimme Shelter.” Who’s terrible idea was this?

I’m having a hard time pinning down how this collection of musicians could defile this song. Maybe I’m just put off by Bono’s singing in the second verse. Fergie surprised me, though. Girl can wail.

Sam Shrieve: Bittersweet Lullabies


RIYL: Denison Witmer, Jeff Buckley, Adam Cohen

A chip off the old rock? Well, not exactly, although admittedly Sam Shrieve shares his dad’s penchant for making a mark at an early age. The elder Shrieve was, of course, the frenetic drummer for the first Santana band, the youngest musician to play Woodstock and the piercing on-camera presence that practically stole the show from his colleagues. Young Sam takes a more refined route and while his glamorous good looks are obviously destined for full exploitation, his music is considerably more cerebral than either dad’s tribal tempos or than the typical pinup poser. Consequently, Bittersweet Lullabies proves an apt title for these pleasant soft pop musings, alternately celebratory (“Beautiful,” “”Kiss You,” “I’m Sorry”) and unabashedly sentimental (“Welcome to Your Life,” “”I’ll Be There,” “”Sanctuary”). An aching take on the oft-covered “Hallelujah” actually cuts through the competition and fits perfectly in the mix, as sure a sign of Shrieve’s proficiency as any of his originals. A solid support cast, including veterans Bill Frisell and Lyle Workman, lend additional credibility, but Sam’s the man when it comes to carrying the bulk of the musical weight. Dad must be proud, although wondering where the rhythm went. Nevertheless, this impressive initial outing carries a weight all its own. (Colorburst Soundfield 2009)

Sam Shrieve MySpace page

Timothy B. Schmit: Expando


RIYL: Graham Nash, America, Poco

Despite his indelible imprint on several generations of Southern California soft rockers – from Poco to the Eagles and various side duties along the way in support of his like-minded peers – Timothy B. Schmit has only rarely taken the solo spotlight via a mere handful of individual albums over the expanse of the past 40 years or so. With Expando, Schmit does what he’s always done beast, offering up a set of unassuming, inoffensive mid-tempo pop songs that spotlight his lilting vocals and amiable, good-natured melodies.

Indeed, if the new album reflects a burnished, distinctly ‘70s feel, its for good reason; Graham Nash, Levon Helm, Van Dyke Parks, Jim Keltner and the ever-present Benmont Tench are among the venerable old school stalwarts lending support. Not surprisingly, Schmit’s most impressive offerings are those that find him testing his upper register – specifically, “Ella Jean,” “A Good Day” and “Secular Praise,” a song that finds the Blind Boys of Alabama providing gospel accompaniment. The latter can also be found on the Blind Boys’ new Duets LP, where it also stands out as among the best of that bunch.

In fact, the only time Schmit seems out of his element is when he delves into a hint of blues and funk, respectively – as on lead-off track “One More Mile” and the tongue-in-cheek “White Boy From Sacramento.” Here’s a hint as far as the latter is concerned – the title tells all. (Lost Highway 2009)

Timothy B. Schmit website

REO Speedwagon: Not So Silent Night


RIYL: REO Speedwagon, Air Supply, the Grinch

Their name has long been synonymous with toothless, Wonder Bread-flavored AOR, but once upon a time, REO Speedwagon really did aspire to be a kick-ass rock band – and they showed flashes of getting there over a 15-year period, occasionally managing to work up a decent sweat during minor FM classics like Hi Infidelity and Good Trouble, only to be thwarted at every turn by the soft, pale presence of vocalist Kevin Cronin. He’s had his moments as a songwriter, but as a singer, Cronin is about as rock & roll as Liberace, and his fondness for schmaltz has steadily robbed the band of whatever limited credibility it might have enjoyed. And speaking of schmaltz, here’s Not So Silent Night, a fascinatingly dreadful collection of holiday tracks “with a unique REO Speedwagon musical twist,” which is publicist-speak for “corny as all get out.” Not that Christmas albums need to rock, necessarily, but Cronin really castrates the band here, tossing in shiver-inducing spoken-word sketches, terribly inappropriate ad libs, and borderline offensive cover choices (you can’t help but wonder if John Lennon would still be a pacifist if he could hear this version of “Happy Xmas [War Is Over]”). He’s always had the charisma and vocal authority of a hairless kitten, but Not So Silent Night really begs the question of how Kevin Cronin has managed to keep his grip on REO Speedwagon all these years. Of all the veteran bands who should have gone out and found themselves a nice young replacement singer from the Philippines by now, this one surely tops the list. (Sony Legacy 2009)

REO Speedwagon MySpace page

Taylor Hollingsworth: Life with a Slow Ear


RIYL: Steve Earle, Conor Oberst, The Jayhawks

If 2009 were to yield a list of its strangest LPs, I, for one, would nominate the aptly named Life with a Slow Ear for at least an honorable mention. Not that its ragged, homespun ruminations offer anything especially unusual in and of itself; heading up the country and getting back to the roots is a popular path these days, especially for musicians who hunger for a respite from a daily diet of scorching guitars, amplifiers turned up to the max and rhythmic onslaughts that could replicate a small tsunami.

The surprise then isn’t that Taylor Hollingsworth follows suit. A journeyman musician, he spent time in the service of Conor Oberst’s Mystic Valley Band before upping both attitude and amplitude for his initial series of solo outings. However, now that he’s opted to unplug, the thing that separates him from his fellow rustic ramblers is – in a word – his vocals (That’s two words. -Ed.), a high-whining cornhusker of a drawl that suggests a cartoonish attempt at hillbilly authenticity. It undercuts any attempt to take these musings seriously, if for no other reason than it’s such a jolt every time he commands the microphone. While one could concede there’s some synchronicity in his chipmunk chatter and the twangy plunking of “I Didn’t Know It Was the Devil” and “Westfalia,” anytime the mood turns somewhat surreptitious – as in “96 Crayons” and the blustery boogie of “New Orleans Blues” – Hollingsworth actually sounds silly. Attempting to give some weight to “Sin City Blues” – which references both Gram Parsons and Dylan’s “Stuck Inside of Memphis with Those Memphis Blues Again” – Hollingsworth’s voice betrays him, even despite his obvious instrumental dexterity. So while Life with a Slow Ear Is otherwise an admirable effort, it’s a less than critical ear that’s required. (Team Love 2009)

Taylor Hollingsworth MySpace page

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