In 1966, in the wake of the critical acclaim from the masterpiece Pet Sounds, and coasting on the fame and fortune he’d earned for single-handedly competing with the entire nation of England for two whole years, Brian Wilson boasted to the press that the next Beach Boys album would be better still, grandiose beyond reckoning, as evolved from Pet Sounds as Pet Sounds had been from its predecessor, the goofy Beach Boys Party! album.

Finally on November 1, 2011, we’ll be getting the official, Capitol Records, Mike-and-Al-sanctioned confirmation that he was absolutely right. While Pet Sounds gets the accolades, consistently coming up number one in lists of the greatest albums of all time (Rolling Stone placed it as number 2, below only Sgt. Pepper), it’s now crystal clear that Pet Sounds was supposed to be just the wedge end of a growing block of masterful songwriting and recording genius—yes, the title “genius” is correct, despite what the elder Brian himself claims. Furthermore, it’s obvious from this box set (you can also get the gist of things in a two CD or two album set, though we know our readers will go the full monty on the big version with all the trimmings) that the Smile sessions were NOT written, arranged, and recorded by a drug-addled, paranoid recluse whose bad LSD trips had clouded his judgment—that would come later for Brian. Here, the only thing crazy is how intricate and beautiful the music is. Not only the songs themselves, but the meticulous false starts, the outtakes, the bonus ditties, and even the lighthearted banter with session drummer Hal Blaine and bassist Carol Kaye all show that Brian Wilson was in complete control of a masterful vision from start to near-finish. Done right, Smile could have tossed Pet Sounds around like a tidal wave, and maybe even made the Beatles yearn for yesterday. Though we’ll never know the answer to the mystery of what might have been, this collection gives us our best guess, while at the same time shattering any myths about what was assumed never could be.

You, fair reader, probably know those myths and never believed them, though it’s hard to avoid romancing the Smile saga. To rehash a tale that’s been told to death (and which is covered far better in the box set’s liner notes), Smile missed its historical moment, big time. Planned to be released after the Beatles’ Revolver and to make good on the promise of the “Good Vibrations” single, Smile instead became unwound and frazzled, hemorrhaging songs and lyric writers and well-wishers as its completion date got pushed further and further into 1967 (lyricist Van Dyke Parks famously amscrayed after one too many terse arguments with Mike Love, a major skeptic of Smile who likely hastened its destruction). When Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band came out, an album made by Beach Boys fans that was nonetheless far more abrasive than what the Wilson brothers were working on, it basically beat them to the punch.

And Brian effectively threw in the towel, scrapping all his hard work and instead gathering the Beach Boys together at his house to hastily bang out cheapo versions of the songs meant for Smile (the only true Smile session survivor being “Heroes and Villains”). The results, mostly recorded on the Capitol album Smiley Smile with just a few instruments and carrot-crunches, have their own oddball charm but did nothing to alert the world of Brian’s genius—instead, they seemed to confirm the drug-damaged rumors, and stand even now as perhaps the most stoned-sounding of all Beach Boys songs.

But those who paid attention knew that Brian was leaving a trail of breadcrumbs back to that unfinished gem. On record after subsequent record throughout the late 60s and early 70s, some of the best Beach Boys songs lifted their lyrics from Smile snippets (“Mama Says” on Wild Honey) or were outright pieced together from Smile sessions (“Cabinessence” and “Our Prayer” on 20/20, “Surf’s Up” on Surf’s Up). These gave the few remaining Beach Boys fans a taste of the masterpiece that somehow slipped through everybody’s fingers. In the CD era, we got even more treats as bonus tracks and box set extras, with great bootlegs such as the Sea of Tunes Unsurpassed Masters series filling in the rest. Finally, in 2004, a newly refurbished Brian Wilson with a new wife, new band, and new meds got his ass up on stage and took Smile on tour, culminating things with the release of Brian Wilson Presents Smile, its recorded anew in the studio with Wilson’s touring band (mostly made up of the Wondermints) and an assist from Van Dyke Parks himself.

But what about the other Beach Boys? Hearing a finalized running order for Smile was great (it certainly settled a lot of long-standing bets). And the songs were recorded well—in fact, Wilson got the Best Rock Instrumental Grammy that year for “Mrs. O’Leary’s Cow.” But the Brian of 2004 was no match for the Brian of old; nor could the Wondermints surpass the original Wilson brothers’ harmonies—not even with an Idol-worthy female singer hitting Carl’s high notes. The original Beach Boys’ vocals, the harmonies that were supposed to guide us through Smile, the kind you can ONLY get from a group of siblings (think of the Bee Gees, or the Chapin Sisters, or the Chambers Brothers, or the Carter Family) were still sitting in the vaults at Capitol. We fans could splice together our own Smiles from those CD bonus tracks and a few brave Pro Tools edits, but Brian had denied us access to the rest, going so far as to say that the original “Mrs. O’Leary’s Cow” was terrible and would NEVER be unearthed, and might even be destroyed.

Thank GOD that’s not true, and thank GOD for this final mix, which sends the bootleggers running to the hills with crisp and clear recordings that provide plenty of surprises, at least compared to the Smile detritus we’ve heard in the past. The running order is largely the same as what Wilson gave us in 2004, but many of the details are different than what was presented then, including the song titles, which go by the names fashioned by Wilson and Van Dyke Parks at the get-go rather than what they became after Parks’ renewed participation more recently. And perhaps due to limitations in what the young Beach Boys had laid down on those Capitol sessions (there’s no cheating or re-dos, like Carl Wilson used on the 70s’ “Surf’s Up”), you’ll also hear some Parks lyrics that are different here than on the 2004 version. We’re missing a few good words, such as the megaphone bit on “Holidays,” or the “Maybe not one/maybe you too” lyrics that tied “Wonderful” to “Song for Children” on the 2004 Smile.

Actually, that’s probably my biggest complaint about the “final” Smile, mild as it is: the slightly clumsier connection between songs than what I’m used to in earlier trial mixes of Smile. I’m sure this, too, was a limitation in resources, since in a finished Smile, the piecing-together process would have happened last, and it’s far too late to get the Wrecking Crew back together for a final run-through of the xylophone intro to “Wind Chimes.” But one of the many, many ways that Smile would have been ahead of its time (or at least contemporary with Zappa), and one of the things that was to make it truly symphonic, was the fact that it was more than a collection of songs—it was supposed to be a woven tapestry, where one song became the next gradually. And I can’t help but think that some of this version’s fade-outs and decaying bass lines prevent the full cohesion of the cloth.

But a lack in connections is more than made up for by all the new revelations! Oh my god! In some places, it’s subtle, like in the extra minute of “ba de ba” meat slapping in “Vega-Tables,” or the ridiculously satiating bits of “Cool Cool Water” that show up in the background of “Love to Say Dada.” Other songs, like “Child Is Father of the Man,” contain brand new delicate vocal and instrumental arrangements that almost nobody has ever heard before. If you just put this on in the background while washing dishes and aren’t paying attention to the differences, you might just break a plate at the beauty of the sudden piano break in the middle of “Holiday,” which makes the instrumental sessions from the Pet Sounds era sound like immature stumbles by comparison.

The other four discs of the box set make this comparison even more blunt, proving how much more complex Brian’s arrangements had grown, even when compared to similar session tracks from the Pet Sounds box set. There, though the songs were heartfelt and wistful, many of the arrangements were still largely verse-chorus, the kind like “God Only Knows” that could be recreated in a live setting with minimal changes—just get a concertina player on stage with a banjoist, and let Mike shake a tambourine.

We’re far, far further through the looking glass with Smile! So much is crammed into each song, yet they feel so light! And on some of these sessions, you see that Brian had been even further out there than on the more “finished” tracks, especially on the sessions recorded while the other Beach Boys were still deep into their English tour England in 1966. Some versions of “Vega-Tables” have laughter all the way through them, like a madhouse. And one version of “Heroes and Villains” (track 22 on the first disc, if you want to check it out) is so psychedelic, you’ll drool—certainly this could have made “Tomorrow Never Knows” look like “Yesterday Already Did” if it hadn’t been usurped by the Brit guitar gods, then by Hendrix and the hard rock gang that followed to delegate vocal music to the sidelines.

Of course, it wouldn’t be Smile without some humor. Perhaps my favorite parts of the whole collection are the goofy bits between songs, when Brian and friends pretend that he’s stuck in a microphone or piano, or when you hear Brian in the recording sessions chiding his players into slapping actual chains at just the right velocity to get the desired percussion he needs for a song snippet. Actually, the goofiest part of all is the box set packaging! As though the music and all those sessions wasn’t enough, this gigantic… thing comes with a book, a bunch of photos (er, I mean “lithographs”), and the piece de resistance, a re-rendered Smile “shop” cover that lights up and is in 3D! I guess these are the features that will make the box sex $140 instead of $80? Well, as long as I get my vinyl singles, my vinyl albums, AND my CDs AND all this stuff, I’ll accept the frills and chills as part of the package, like a cigarette after sex.

Too often, history has treated Smile like the fire that Brian Wilson’s bad behavior kicked over, causing the Beach Boys careers to burn out and fade away. So perhaps it’s in some ways fitting that this Smile is the first attempt in a long time to patch things up between the existing Beach Boys—instead of suing each other, as they’ve done so often in the past, Mike Love, Brian Wilson, and Al Jardine came together on this and actually agreed to release this box set of their most celebrated unreleased songs. Maybe they knew it was too important to wait. Despite all the tacky turbans and cynical business decisions Mike Love has used to keep the Beach Boys machine afloat through the years, it’s his gentle voice that makes so many of these songs great: and yes, the final song on here is his “Good Vibrations” with Mike Love vocals and lyrics, and not the original Tony Asher ones as sung by Brian in 2004.

A collection of so many things—themes of Americana, minor key standards, English and Hawaiian languages, the four elements—this final Smile is also a collection that brings the past and present together and makes some sense out of them, somehow. Here’s to not making us wait another ten years—and here’s to the thousand times I’ll be listening to this album, and smiling, in the next month.

-Dan Collins

Dreaming of Paris/Wall Street (two 7″ singles)

Bananastan

The sleeping giant rises! Once resting in the San Gabriel Foothills, Van Dyke Parks returns, carrying in his head a brain that thinks in colors, sings in poetry and speaks in paragraphs. He’s the criminally under-praised architect of Song Cycle and Discover America, the eloquent advocate for all things ignored and American, and the less we say about Smile, the more you read about this: His newest 7″ series warmly welcomes you inside and out with “Dreaming of Paris,” a mellow calypso cooler drenched in strings, red wine, memories of American tragedy and a Parisian squeezebox, naturally. Turn it over and “Wedding in Madagascar” sends you South to an island bigger than his beloved Trinidad, but on the same cool wavelength. But the series—and I fear I’m speaking prematurely, as there’s more coming—hits its stride on “Wall Street,” penned just a year after the towers fell and before we learned—again, still—Manhattan rots from inside the minds of its moneyed denizens. But this is no love letter, no indictment, but a cinematic diary putting into verse the panic America shared in our last great collective cry: “WAAAAALL STREEEEEET” he wails (surely nodding to the Song Cycle opener of the “Vine” variety), adding “And in the confetti is human desire. Love-letters lost in space, now smoking.” The single’s other side shows Wall Street, too: “Money is King” which, despite being a 30-plus-year-old cover, stares coldly into the empty eyes of our recession’s shameless architects and asserts: this is your mess, fuckers.

-Kevin Ferguson

Brian Wilson and Van Dyke Parks messing around while recording Smile.

Download: Ramblin’ Jack Elliott “Soul Of A Man”

(from A Stranger Here out now on Anti)

Ramblin’ Jack Elliott’s first job was a rodeo hand after he ran away from his childhood home in Brooklyn. Not long after, he apprenticed under Woody Guthrie. Not long after that, Bob Dylan apprenticed under Jack. He’s only written four songs in his entire life, but one of those songs was a personal favorite of Townes Van Zandt. His newest album A Stranger Here (out now on Anti) is made up of blues standards and features Van Dyke Parks on piano. He had his hip replaced just last week. This interview by Kevin Ferguson.

Can you still do the 45-second yodel at the end of ‘Muleskinner Blues?’
I haven’t sung ‘Muleskinner Blues’ in a couple of years. But actually I was going to get a lung test at the hospital one day. The doctors put me on this machine and they told me that I had a problem with my lungs—that it wasn’t reading good. And I thought, ‘Well, I’ll show you guys!’ So I looked at the clock on the wall and I waited ‘til the second hand came up the twelve and I started my yodel which I believe was supposed to be 45 seconds long. But under the added stimulation of having two young doctors watching me and the clock and all—and having just done the lung test, which was like a warm up exercise—I held that note for sixty seconds! A couple of years later I went back to the hospital for another lung test and I had two new doctors—but the same machine, the same old story. I did the test and they said it wasn’t a good reading and I said, ‘OK, I’ll show you guys, too!’ And I looked up at the wall for the second hand again and I started my sixty-second yodel again, but that time I held that note for seventy seconds! But I haven’t tried it much since then. And of course they repeated their diagnosis about what they thought was wrong, and I thought, ‘You guys are a bunch of spoilsports! I ain’t going back here!’
Does the yodel require practice?
I’ve never been known to do any practicing of the guitar or singing—the only practice I get is when I’m on stage. I’m gonna be practicing again soon though, because I need to learn these new songs that I recorded almost ten months ago. I recorded them last June—they’re on a new album that’s just coming out in a few days now? I don’t know any of those songs. I didn’t learn them when I went down there. I was just reading them off the paper.
How did you choose the songs for that album?
I didn’t choose them. The record company suggested them to me—they had this concept in their mind of me doing these funky old blues songs, and I thought, ‘OK, that sounds like a good idea!’ I didn’t want to be argumentative. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even like about half the songs! I listened to them for three months about five times a day, and I never learned a single one! There was only one that I already knew, and I had been singing it for about fifty years—the ‘How Long Blues.’ But I sang Leadbelly’s version, and this is not Leadbelly’s version. This is a different version—the one by the guy that wrote it. I think he was a piano player. The only reason that record so good is because the musicians who were backing me up are a bunch of geniuses! They had done their homework—they knew the songs pretty well, and we did it like a huge jam session. That too is unusual for me because I don’t normally do jam sessions. The best way you can learn and improve your technique on guitar is to work out with other musicians—to play live. I did a lot of that for the first ten years or so that I was playing guitar. But after I got to traveling around and playing professionally more and more, I sort of lost interest in going out and jamming all the time. I love playing with those guys! They were great. Jay Belrose on drums—Van Dyke Parks on piano. And I knew Van Dyke from about twenty years back—we were drinking buddies in L.A.!
What has been the biggest revelation in your life?
Biggest revelation! I had a marvelous time last night. I just got out of the hospital about ten days ago—had a new hip put in, and I just started to walk back to normal. I’m walking with a walking stick. A friend of mine told me that Kris Kristofferson and Merle Haggard were playing in a theatre near where I lived, so he drove me over there in my truck because I’m not ready to drive yet. I got a special cushion I can sit on ‘cause it’s kind of painful to sit in a car. I got about two more weeks to go—I’ll be ready to go on the road. But right now I’m just barely getting used to having this new hip in me, and it gets a little painful sometimes. But I walked a mile a day before yesterday, and that was a little bit too much. It took me an hour and a half to get the mail! But I went to see Kris Kristofferson and Merle Haggard last night! They did a great show. Joel Selvin was there from the San Francisco Chronicle, and he had just written a big story about them… so a good time was had by all, and I’m starting to like get ready to face show biz and being on the road again. So—the greatest revelation! Well, I guess it was when I climbed the rigging in an old whaler in a museum ship in Mystic, Connecticut. I’ve always loved boats—water and clipper ships. So I met some people who sailed in these old square riggers, and I was memorizing a lot of information about boats and navigation. I went and climbed up the rigging that cold winter’s day. My hands were so cold I could only go up about one third of the way! So then I climbed back down to the deck to warm my hands. It took me three separate climbs—about an hour—to gradually work my way up to the whale lookout about 125 feet above the deck on this old sailing whale ship called the Charles W. Morgan. That was kind of an exercise in control of cold and fear of heights, and learning to accept being alone in the cold. A lot of my heroes were singlehanded navigators, and I’d read about it. But I myself have never done a long trip solo. I had a small sailboat in the Atlantic Ocean about a mile offshore from when I was about 16 to when I was 20. When I’d sail it in the wintertime, they’d call that ‘frostbite dinghy sailing.’
Frostbite dinghy sailing?
Warmly dressed, of course. You’d wear ex-Navy foul-weather gear—wool and such. It was very fun. But then my first performance was playing for World War II survivors in a hospital in New York. These guys were pretty fucked-up from being in the war and they lost legs and arms and stuff—they didn’t make a very good audience. Some were laughing, some were crying, some were cussing, some were telling jokes, and some were even listening and enjoying the music! That was my first schooling in handling an audience. But I have never been able to handle drunks very well. My L.A. gigs are a bit trying, too, because the audience at McCabe’s guitar shop are mostly elderly people and they’re serious fans and they’re dead quiet—sort of like in church! I’ve been known to go asleep on stage in that venue! So I have to be a stand-up comic at the beginning. Get them out of their reverent worshipful mood that they’re in and wake ‘em up! Of course, there’s about a hundred guitars up on the wall there—people are afraid to clap for fear that they might start a guitar avalanche off the wall!
Do you still play your old Gretsch?
Well, it was stolen and it was missing for 23 years! I got it back—I had a local guitar maker take it back and glue it all together again. He did a pretty good job. It’s got a lot of scars of battle on it. I asked him to please not make it look any prettier than it did before I lost it. It’s been over the Alps on the back of a motor scooter in a blizzard, all over Europe for about three years! So I don’t need to kind of expose it to any more travel—it’s a museum piece. The other day, I hauled it out in its case and showed it to a friend who’s a boat builder. He stomped on it and he was amazed—I was amazed—how good the Gretsch still sounds and holds up despite all of the glue that’s been added to it. Because I got it back from this thief because he saw me singing with Kris Kristofferson in the same theater where I was last night to see Kris. He must have had a pang of guilt when he saw me playing on stage without it—he knocked on the stage door later and he said his name, said he was a friend of so-and-so. He gave me his number and I called him and went up to visit at his farm and got my guitar back. It looked like he carefully removed the guitar from the case, put it on the ground, and rolled over it with a tractor two or three times! It was a mess! Totally wrecked! He said a friend of his gave it to him and stuff like, ‘I didn’t know where you were. I thought you were out of town, Jack! Here’s the guitar—take good care of it.’ I was very tempted to say, ‘Why didn’t you take good care of it?’ But I thought it wouldn’t be polite. Especially when I’m sitting in his house drinking his wine and he’s treating me like a guest. I really think that kid stole my guitar. It took a couple of years for my guitar-maker friend to glue that thing back together again! You know, I loaned that guitar to the Experience Music Project museum and they had it travelling all over America for two years as an exhibit of early Bob Dylan influences. They had it in a glass case along with some pertinent information about the guitar because that was the guitar I had played on my first early recordings that Bob had gotten from some friends in Minneapolis when they first turned them on to Woody Guthrie and then to me.
Did you ever really call him your son?
No! I never did! The press called him ‘son of Jack Elliott.’ They thought it was kind of a cute way to announce the arrival of a new talent on the scene. And I was very proud of it because he was very obviously imitating me, although other people saw it more plainly than I could see it. I’d sing a song on stage and a minute later Bob would jump on and start doing something that he just noticed that I was doing—totally unabashedly! It used to piss people off—they didn’t understand why I was allowing it. They thought I ought to crack down on the bastard! But I liked him. He was my friend—sort of unofficially like a student. That’s the way I learned from Woody, too. I was out hanging out with Woody for about four years, starting in 1951. He just told me a lot of stories and we’d play music together. I learned a lot about guitar playing with Woody.
What was the first song he taught you?
Actually, I learned it off a record of his—it was called ‘Hard Travelling.’ I actually knew it by heart when I first met Woody. I’d been listening to that record for about two months before I finally called him one day. I got his phone number through a friend of mine. I called him up and said ‘I’ve been listening to your records, and I sure like your music.’ And he said ‘Well, come on over—bring your guitar! We’ll knock off a couple of tunes together! Don’t come today, though—I got a bellyache.’ And indeed, he almost died. He had appendicitis.
What’s the worst indignity about travelling by air?
Having to give them my guitar and put in baggage where they can break it! I was very lucky they’ve never broken it. But I’ve had many, many friends who had their valuable guitars broken by airlines, Earl Scruggs had his banjo broken by one of those airlines, and so he bought an airplane to learn how to fly on his own! I’ve had my suitcase lost four or five times—always got it back a few days back. I remember when they used to have beautiful stewardesses and nice food and silverware. Metal silverware! That was the old days when the plane stunk of cigarette smoke and coffee, and I didn’t mind!
How did it feel knowing that ‘912 Greens’ was one of the last songs Townes Van Zandt ever heard?
Well, it felt very good that night—I didn’t know that he was going to die. He didn’t even let me know that he had a broken hip. He had tripped over a tree stump the day before and he was frightened to go to a hospital. But he needed to get a surgical operation to get his hip fixed. He put it off ac couple of days before his loved ones finally talked him into going to the hospital. Now, my father was a surgeon. When you operate an alcoholic, you have to give them alcohol. Otherwise they’ll die of shock! And those doctors must’ve not known that. You know, there are a lot of doctors who just don’t know anything nowadays. Isn’t that funny? I don’t know what they teach in medical school. There’s a lot to be found out about the medical profession. He said he liked ‘912 Greens.’ I know he did because every time I talked to him he mentioned that. And I thanked him and I said, ‘You have a nice New Year’s.’ He died about eight hours after that.
What do you think America lost with the death of Odetta?
She had a great powerful voice and a lot of spirit. She was a wonderful, wonderful woman and I just don’t think they make a lot of people like that anymore. She sang Leadbelly songs and old folk songs. She sang a lot of Leadbelly songs. We did five or six concerts together, spread out over two years time. When she died they had a big tribute to Odetta, so I made a videotape and they played it on a big screen.
Is it true that her mom was the first person to call you ‘Ramblin’?’
That’s correct! I like to tell a lot of stories, you know—long stories. I had just met Odetta about a month before and she lived across the street from a man that had several Model A Fords. I had just purchased a Model A and I went to see the man about fixing this and that I because he was an expert. The first time I visited Odetta, her mother answered the door and said, ‘Odetta is in the bathtub—you can wait here in the living room.’ So I waited and I waited and I waited—I could hear the water splashing in the bathtub. I could hear Odetta singing to herself! She seemed very content to be in the bathroom for over a half hour. She’s a large person. Anyway, I got tired of waiting so I went up to the bathroom door and said ‘Hey, Odetta—it’s me, Jack! I’m here!’ and I started telling stories about my adventures. Her mother thought that was odd. The next time I visited Odetta and knocked on her door, her mother looks out the little peephole, saw my face and I heard her holler, ‘ODETTA, RAMBLIN’ JACK IS HERE!’ That was the first time I heard that name. I’ve heard it an awful lot since then!
Was On The Road the only manuscript that’s ever been read to you?
That’s the only one! I’ve read manuscripts for movies and stuff, but that was the first and last time anybody read me their manuscript. We drank some wine, had some other things and we sat on the floor. Jack read to us for three days!
How do you stay awake through that?
I don’t think we had any trouble staying awake—it was such a wonderful story. That was in the year 1953 and the book came out in 1956, or ‘57! Yeah, ‘57—it was four years prior to the publishing of the book. So when it finally came out I was in Paris and I gave a reading of some of the chapters of that book and along with a reading of some of Woody’s writings. I performed, too. I was performing in concert with Allen Ginsberg and Gregory Corso in Paris.
How do you survive on two dollars a day when you’re a rodeo hand?
Well, it was in 1947—I could get bacon and eggs and a cup of coffee and sometimes still have enough money left over for a malted milk later! But that was it—I was pretty much a one-meal-a-day kid for about three months. Well, the latter part of that time I was on the ranch I was paid 5 dollars a week, but they fed us. I had nineteen flapjacks every morning! The cook made the most delicious pancakes! To this day, I still love buckwheat pancakes—they’re very different. A unique flavor. They taste rich and healthy without being too sweet. It’s sort of like a good bowl of oatmeal!
Is there a trick to make the most money possible while busking?
Aw, I never made much money busking! When I was busking in Paris regularly—practically every night—in the wintertime, we would work for approximately one hour and collect the equivalent of about $8 U.S., which was about enough to pay our room rent and one or two meals. Breakfast was just coffee and a croissant, lunch was a ham sandwich, and dinner was a beefsteak and frites.
When was the last time you rode a horse?
I rode a horse when I was watching Larry Mayham practice roping. It was at a Colorado film festival. Before that, I rode a horse about a year ago on a round-up finding some cattle up in the mountains of Northern California. Bringing them down in a rainstorm and sleeping in a very leaky tent with a cowboy who snored. After about three hours of soaking in my sleep, I apologized to him for abandoning him and went into my Ford truck. There, I had a wool blanket and 2 full hours of good sleep until I heard the cook rustling up the coffee pot. I was up like a flash! We couldn’t even brand the calves—they were too wet! But I like riding horses—I just don’t get to ride them enough. I used to have a horse for twelve years and rode him constantly in the hills of Northern California.
What was his name?
His name was Young Brigham. I had him on a record album cover—the album was named after him, too. The saddle maker that sold me that horse told me, ‘You know, Jack, if you put a picture of Brigham on the cover of your record album, the hay will be tax deductible!’
Is that for real?
It was a good sales point! I was already in love with the horse, anyway.
How do you think your music and Woody’s music fits in with today, as we’re risking a second Great Depression?
I think it fits in perfectly. He was singing about hard times, and he went through the hard times and he saw it and he wrote about it. And now we’re getting ready to have some more. I think people appreciate the music because it means something to them. Back as recently as a year ago, the country was still in a blind bourgeois alcoholic drug-induced Hollywood-induced fog of, ‘Gimme, gimme, gimme! Gotta have a fast car, gotta have a big fat four-wheel drive, just like in the movies.’ We were totally stupid—in a crazed state of mind—which helped to bring about the fall. It’s like the rise and fall of the Roman Empire. Stuff goes up and comes back down again. It’s gravity!
What’s the one lesson we all should have learned from history but never will?
I think that there’s a very good chance that most of the people will never have learned anything. Because it seems like it’s almost built into human nature that it’s easy for certain politicians to exist. As long as the politicians do exist, they’re always going to lie to the public and the deprivation and destruction of schools will continue. And California is the leading state in backwardness for education. It’s still shocking and hard to believe! I was raised on mom, apple pie, red white and blue, ‘America the Beautiful’—I was very patriotic in my heart, although I was lucky enough to not have to go to war. I was too young for World War II and later I just fell through the cracks. I probably would’ve had to be a draft dodger or refuse to go. I don’t approve of warfare and I don’t like killing animals or people. Although I used to love a good steak!
So you’re a vegetarian?
I’m part idealist and part hypocrite. I’m part yogi and part bull-rider. I’m all things good and all things bad! No, I’m not, Hitler was! No, I’m not a vegetarian. But I am trying to cut down on meat as I’ve found out that red meat is not as good for you as I had once supposed that it was. And yet I crave it! But I’m starting to eat more lamb. I love lamb curry and I love lamb chops. I like Indian food a lot, too. Theoretically, I’m much more a vegetarian than I am in practice. And I don’t smoke cigarettes. I did smoke cigarettes for about twenty years. I started when I was fifteen, rolling my own cigarettes at the rodeo ranch. I thought that was cool! Then I started smoking Camels and Luckys and all that trash. I was very lucky that I didn’t get seriously addicted to tobacco. One day I decided I was really tired and bored with it, and I just stopped buying and smoking cigarettes. I didn’t have a difficult time quitting tobacco. I know that most people have a hard time—they say it’s harder to kick than heroin!
What was it like getting an award from Bill Clinton?
Well, of course I don’t ever rehearse what I’m going to say. It seems like it comes out better ad-libbed, in the style of Woody Guthrie and Will Rogers. They never rehearsed or planned out what they were going to say. And so here comes the president and he’s about to shake hands with me in the White House. I said, ‘It’s wonderful to meet you, Bill! Is it ok if I call you Bill?’ And he said, ‘Of course, Jack.’ And I felt like he was my friend! I like him! And I had come in with no preconceived notion about him. I just looked in his eyes and I thought, ‘This guy is OK. Good man.’ When I met his wife, I said, ‘I’m Ramblin’ Jack!’ and she just hollered, ‘I KNOW YOU, RAMBLIN’ JACK!’ It reverberated down the hall of the White House! It was as if she was back in Arkansas knocking on the back porch to borrow some sugar. I thought, ‘These guys are down home folks!’
What was the most memorable time you sang the national anthem?
As a matter of fact, I sang it the one time we were being serenaded by some musicians on foot who were in blue. It was the U.S. Marine Corp band, and they were playing all these tunes, mostly patriotic songs. So I chimed in with them on, ‘America, America, God shed his grace on thee.’ I had had ONE shot of scotch and two glasses of red wine, which is about enough. I was a little bit in my cups—as they say—but I didn’t dare look but my wife sitting next to me peeked over. I was singing a little too loud because I was carried away with patriotic fervor. Bill was looking right at me, grinning broadly. He just dug it! And later after the dinner was over, immediately I had to scooch over and allow Bill to sneak past me, ahead of some other people. As he walked by me, I put my hand up to my mouth as if I had a secret to whisper to him. And in fact the G-Men by the other wall couldn’t see what I was saying, and I told Bill, ‘I heard a rumor that Bob Dylan is in town tonight and I thought we could dress you up in a disguise and sneak you over there.’ He threw his head back and laughed, ‘That would be fun!’

RAMBLIN’ JACK ELLIOTT ON FRI.. APR. 17, AND SAT., APR. 18, AT McCABE’S GUITAR SHOP, 3101 PICO BLVD., SANTA MONICA. 8 PM / $20 / ALL AGES. MCCABES.COM. RAMBLIN JACK ELLIOTT’S A STRANGER HERE RELEASES TUE., APR. 7, ON ANTI-. VISIT RAMBLIN’ JACK ELLIOTT AT RAMBLINJACK.COM OR MYSPACE.COM/RAMBLINJACKELLIOTT.

Inara George “Duet”

Inara George (also known from the Bird and the Bee and Living Sisters) and Van Dyke Parks (also known from Smile, Song Cycle and Twin Peaks) will release an overwhelmingly lovely orchestral album called An Invitation on Everloving next month. They play together tonight and next Wednesday at Tangier.

Inara, what is your earliest memory of Van Dyke?
Inara George (vocals): It was pretty early but when we were little, Van Dyke’s daughter would play with me a lot and I remember with Van Dyke, we’d always say, ‘Lovey-dovey.’ Instead of ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye,’ we’d say ‘lovey-dovey!’ That’s my impression. And we still always say lovey-dovey.
Van Dyke Parks (arrangements): After a very difficult time. If there’s some grueling physically punishing ordeal. Like an interview!
We’re only like a minute into this!
V: You understate your gentility.
How do you get an orchestra ready to record an album in just two days?
I: They’re professionals. They look at the sheet music and they play. It’s like a magic trick.
V: And they couldn’t believe how fast her money was being spent! I think expensive sounds best. At the end of a successful take, I will say, ‘That sounds expensive to me!’
Could you actually hear the money leaving the bank account?
I: In all fairness, we did it quite cheaply for this kind of thing. It’s not something you can reproduce easily.
V: What Inara is trying to say is that I embezzled the majority. She said, ‘You know, I came out of that Edith Piaf picture, and she’d be standing up there and she wouldn’t be holding a guitar trying to remember the lyrics. She had people playing for her—you do that for me.’ And I said, ‘Yes!’ I was delighted—from my standpoint, the arranger’s standpoint—that was easily the most communicative arena right there within that most economical statement. I’ve always said: why use a small word when a diminutive one would suffice?
That’s superlative.
V: We had a ball.
Was this record powered by Diet Coke?
V: Inara doesn’t like Coke. I looked into her eyes—no Diet Coke.
I: I have to make sure it’s here when Van Dyke comes over. I grew up in Topanga. I’d drink it at the movies—it was my treat!
Van Dyke, you said before that a collaboration has to be adversarial if it’s going to be good. And that you should leave no visible contusions.
V: You’re making that up! It’s possible I said that.
We like to bring these kinds of things up.
V: You’re sick to do that! Yeah, that’s true, sir—guilty as charged! But I don’t think a collaboration does have to be that way. This one is decidedly very good. And from my standpoint of never wanting to disappoint Inara—she’s too talented, too beautiful, and I do consider her like a daughter—she’s that important to me is all I’m saying! So it was as easy as falling off a log for me! And now, if we get any approval at all, we’re going to make a global jaunt. It’s gonna be wonderful! We’ll play the record places live. I like records and recording—I’ve always been into Spike Jones and I love ear-candy records—but it’s a fun thing to do when you run into someone with real talent. I hope my back will be to the audience.
I: We’re hoping to perform it with the full thing.
V: Which can hover around three violin lines, two viola lines, one cello line, one stand-up bass, and some other people with fine Italian timber, and some things that blow. Three flutes, two clarinets and a double reed. And one French horn—for a little machismo!
How was that first show last month in Altadena?
I: It was fun! But it wasn’t with the full thing. Just piano and I’m on guitar, and then upright bass and mandolin. Did we have a fun time?
V: The thing was just about as convivial as it could be without the alcohol count!
Are you doing dry sets?
V: I said I don’t work blue! They thought I meant I didn’t wanna work in a place with booze! It was clean, wholesome, funny—we just kind of dressed the show and the guy wanted more! We added numbers and Inara asked me to sing ‘Vine Street’ by Randy Newman.
What’s your funniest go-to bit on stage?
V: You know what I don’t like about that question? ‘Go-to’ suggests we repeat ourselves. We never repeat ourselves!
Exclusive banter?
I: One night only!
V: It’s what Inara is doing as I’m withdrawing from the very act of playing a dry room. I’m getting the DTs over there! I’m the oldest thing in the room! She’s a brunette—I used to be a brunette! I can dig the vibe. It’s a youth vibe. To try and catch someone with a perspective that’s informed, but somehow optimistic. That’s the tattoo of a certain age group—Inara’s age, I believe. There’s no longer anything childish. You see how grey the politics of time are. It brings out an urgency and understanding of the material. The material Inara does, she is not pressed to explain—she doesn’t explain between songs. Her songs are very close to the chest—it seems like a collection of private reflections that are very appealing.
Are you saying that you don’t know what Inara’s songs are about and you don’t need to know what they’re about?
I: I know what they’re about.
V: I think you do. I just wanted to say this and then I’ll shut up! You look at lyrics and you know they’re good if they fuse to the melody and music. If they’re an inevitability, they’re a good idea! But there are some lyrics that are simply perfunctorily delivered and they leave the impression that there’s only one impression to think! ‘I HATE WAR.’ That’s good! But sometimes a poet rises out of a situation with a highly interpretive gift—a gift that provides perhaps some uncertainty for the casual observer about what’s being said, and for me that is called poetry, and the poetical power makes it! I like to go along with that. Then you get to a point where you’re not sure what someone may have said. That uncertainty is also a quality of valor in the work. That’s a compliment, Inara. I think your lyrics are terrific, and they have me totally confused.
I: When we perform, Van Dyke is very sweet. I tend to not say a lot in between songs, especially if I don’t have anything good to say. At one time, he had to prompt me to say what the song was about. Maybe because he really finally wanted to know!
V: You know, Inara, I was just looking for the title!
I: I have a thing: I’m turning 34 this week—when I see younger people really go on and on about their songs and what it’s about, maybe they haven’t really earned the right? Maybe no one cares. That’s my own insecurity. A little bit of banter from Van Dyke reminding me I lost the audience!
V: Go out there and work the room, kid! Go to your go-to!
What was it like putting the first notes on the first piece of paper?
I: I had the songs, so what I did—the reality of this is that Van Dyke did all the work. He’s the guy—I think it’s safe to say!
V: When you have no talent, you have to work. Life isn’t fair!
I: He’s in the spotlight with me. His voice is just as present as mine—his arranging voice. I wrote the songs, recorded them, and sent them over to him.
V: She sang them convincingly with a guitar into a computer and sent them to me, and that was so convincing, and that’s the name of that tune!
Was it as simple as just a few emails?
I: I think it was! Mike Andrews—my producer—and I would go over, and listen to the orchestration he’d done on his computer.
V: And she just slapped my hand with the ruler now and then!
I: No, there was nothing I ever had to say! It was perfect and perfectly Van Dyke.
V: A point of fact—it got done in a couple days. The orchestra is what I call the Frugal Gourmet. Some sweetness, nothing bombastic about it—just what it takes to get it done!
Can you give me a concise technical definition of what would make something ‘bombastic’?
V: Maestoso would be it! Well, all kinds of stuff—miserato, diluendo and a slow fade into nothing. There’s all kinds of musical expressions for that stuff. Just say Andrew Lloyd Webber. Percy Grainger was my favorite. He did things like ‘PRESS HEAVILY.’ He would never use Italian and I just love it! ‘TROUSERS FORWARD!’ Wonderful attitudinal instructions in our lingo!
What did you each know you’d get from the other during this collaboration?
I: It gets kind of sappy. We knew that there was love there.
V: To me principally it was a very good thing that Inara pared her ultimate act to instinct in such a way—she had an instinct that would be a good thing! Whether she likes it or not, she’s the damn leader in this one. The songs will be the test in the pudding. I think she has a powerful gift of communication. It comes easy. I wanna go on record thinking that she needs to exercise it for a long time, and I’m just pleased to be a chapter!
What challenges each of you most about the other?
V: I know Inara’s problem right off the bat—she’s just being too tactful! ‘When is this codger rocker gonna learn what he’s supposed to play?’
I: I love that—playing with Van Dyke every single time is fantastic!
V: Wasn’t that fun when you had to nod at me at the last show?
I: You told me to! My biggest challenge and I think his wife Sally can agree—I’m not always sure what he’s saying, but eventually I figure it out. It takes a moment—it’s not exactly a challenge, or it’s an exciting challenge! He said something in one of the shows—I cannot remember what it was, but I was confused as to what it meant.
V: How can I respond to charges that haven’t been articulated?
This interview is getting unconstitutional.
V: It’s totally out of hand and I’m worried!
I: He has certain sayings, and if you don’t know the story, a lot of time you’re left confused. Like ‘Molly took a crap in the car.’
Is that positive or negative?
V: That’s bad. When things go very very bad.
What does Molly do to the car when things are going well?
I: No, she always takes a crap in the car.
V: I can’t think of one for a mixed audience. I don’t work blue!
You said before you ‘stay out of the present tense.’ What’s brought you back?
V: I meant in work—I don’t mean psychologically. I’m in the prism of current understanding. I got the newspapers and I read them. But my reasons for that—‘I stay out of the present tense.’ I think reverse is the most powerful gear. The torque! Things pass, and rememberance is the most instructive arena there is. It’s wonderful because there’s nothing creative about it!
It’s archaeological?
V: I’m very big-bang driven. I wanna know why we’re here—for what purpose. I just come from a very uncompromising parental pool. People bludgeoned their offspring in my family for years. I have that from my own parents. I’m not satisfied at all. There’s an urgency to every action. Of course, I’m 65 now. I want to make a difference, but it’s good—what I’ve chosen to do is linger with people who have still within their easy ability—as I put it in Inara’s case—to bring change and harmony and all kinds of good things that make a lot of people reading absolutely revolted by this audacity! So I won’t go there anymore. I am an idealist and I’m deadly in earnest about that and there’s nothing casual about this particular collaboration.
Does this connect to what you told the Times about the song being the most powerful political weapon of our time?
V: I think that’s obvious. I thought ‘We Shall Have Overcome’ would have been a good title, but we threw that one away.
What will be America’s most lasting contribution to music?
I: One of the great things about spending time with Van Dyke is just hearing him—he pulls out music I’ve never heard before that’s part of the American songbook. It’s so amazing to think that there’s so much I don’t even know.
V: Somebody asked Aaron Copeland—‘What is American music?’ And in quotes—italicized, perhaps—he said, ‘American music is written in America.’ That’s very interesting. It extends to ‘Going Home,’ the quasi Negro spiritual used in the New World Symphony. Dvorak, a Czechoslovakian writing music in the United States in the 19th century and a Negro spiritual that didn’t exist that he made up that was later adopted by blacks—very interesting! Vernacular music has always interested me. The stuff that feels American. I always wonder what’s American music? We are—all of us! That’s what’s wonderful about it. It osmotes just as much as the Japanese language does—borrows from other idioms to create its identity. The age of Yankee ingenuity—that got me magnetized! And music! Music! What I really dig is what’s happening now in American music!
What specifically?
V: Inara George’s new record!
I hear it’s pretty good.
V: The kid turns on a dime! But this totally American music, and back to lyrics—what is the power I like in music? The poetic urge—deception—deceptive lyrics is what it’s all about! That is the MacGuffin—the thing at the conclusion of the story that Hitchcock included. That’s why you don’t want a lappy—you want an evergreen and something you want to nurture! It’s something you cannot completely know and understand, even on the part of the creator—no one understands something that is a real bijou! It’s a phenom of our collective wits—Mike Andrews for surrendering the musical influence to me. He offered me the job—that was a diamond in a coal field right through! What can I tell you? Everything has just been terrific! And there are no contusions or abrasions. Very happy, aren’t we! Now I just want the barge trip down the canal in Burgundy. It takes two concerts in Dijon to make that kind of money.
You’ve got it all decimaled out?
V: You have to—the dollar’s not worth a damn!
What was it like doing a little self-parody with ‘Black Sheep’ for Walk Hard?
V: I’m a shadow of my former self now—I thought it was good to show my former sensibility! Oxygenating—breathing in!—that’s what I decided to do! And I think it was in perfect order. Not usurious in any way. It did not hurt anybody else. It felt good! The first time I worked for Mike Andrews.
So Walk Hard pointed the way to An Invitation?
I: Exactly!
What happened between you on this album that can never be captured again?
V: That’s easy. She’ll never give me this much money again!

INARA GEORGE AND VAN DYKE PARKS ON WED., JULY 16, AND WED., JULY 23, AT TANGIER, 2138 HILLHURST AVE., LOS FELIZ. 7 PM / $15 / 21+. FOLDSILVERLAKE.COM. INARA GEORGE AND VAN DYKE PARKS’ AN INVITATION WILL RELEASE TUE., AUG. 12, ON EVERLOVING. A RECORD RELEASE SHOW WILL BE HELD MON., AUG. 11. VISIT INARA GEORGE AT MYSPACE.COM/INARAGEORGE. VISIT VAN DYKE PARKS AT VANDYKEPARKS.COM OR MYSPACE.COM/VANDYKEPARKS.

Cheap Trick @ Verizon Wireless
Inara George + Van Dyke Parks @ Tangier
The Monolators / The Rolling Blackouts @ The Echo
Greg Ginn’s country band @ The Blue Cafe