Killin' It for The Bride and Bill

Remember the iconic song most commonly (and erroneously) tabbed as the "theme" of Quentin Tarantino's 2-part epic Kill Bill?   The song is actually called "Battle Without Honor or Humanity", and the gentleman who wrote it was Tomoyasu Hotei, a legend of the Japanese rock music scene with over 35 years of recordings and hits under his belt.   A multi-instrumentalist,  he plays bass, drums, and keyboards, in addition to the guitar work he displays in the video below, which shows him and his band delivering what I think is a killer extended version of this iconic masterpiece.   He's got the chops to be sure - I think bringing him to the states for a tour or some concert appearances would be in order, yes?  Check it out here:

(Yes, the video is likely copyrighted - and I'll take it down if requested.)

His website is here.   He's got a lot of other stuff on there that's worth checking out.  

First You've Got To Last...

I became a fan of the Canadian group Rush around the year 1984.   I was certainly aware of them prior to that, and liked (sort-of) their music at that point, but it was the Grace Under Pressure album and videos that turned my curiosity into true fandom.   Well-played and orchestrated hard rock that allowed itself to change with the times while staying true to itself, lyrics that sounded like somebody with a brain wrote them for people with brains, without insulting those same brains, and Geddy Lee's distinctive high-register voice and bass playing, hooked me in.   

I really became a fan with the release of the Power Windows album in 1985.   From the crashing opening chord of The Big Money to the fade-out of Mystic Rhythms, the album was an impeccably produced masterpiece of 80's hard rock.    Considering how highly-produced the album was, with all of the keyboard textures, and the use of a choir and orchestra, I figured that given all of this group's talent, that there was no possible way that they would be able to pull off playing this music live without hiring "ringers" - additional musicians to help fill in the gaps that a power trio supposedly could not.   This has been done by countless bands - the "other" Canadian power trio, Triumph, would bring Rick Santer on the road as an additional guitarist/keyboardist.   Toto, in their heyday a 6-piece, would bring additional players, as well: one or two additional guitar players, a percussionist, and background singers usually form the complement of hired guns in their shows.   Queen, essentially a power trio with a front person, would bring in Spike Edney for additional keyboards or guitar for the road.   The list goes on...

But not with Rush.   The only time they took outside musicians on the road was during the Clockwork Angels tour, with their string section playing behind Neil and nearly getting torched night after night by the pyrotechnics.   Prior to then, and since, the stage was only populated by Geddy, Alex, and Neil.   Their "fourth member", if you will, was technology - samplers, sequencing, and MIDI device links were coming into the mainstream of music around the same time, and the band jumped in that pool, feet first.   After some initial struggles with the technology, some of which were experienced during their first tour with it, the band eventually learned how to play with and around it.   A prime example of this is in the last cut off of side 1 of Power Windows, Marathon.   It was seeing Rush play this song live, and on a concert video, that convinced me once and for all about the band's greatness.  The studio version provides the standard from which the live versions can be compared, with all of the keyboard textures, and string and choir arrangements (as I remember, for the recording they used a real choir and real orchestra).   The Show Of Hands version, recorded in 1988 at the Birmingham NEC in England, shows how much of the sonic space is taken up by Alex's guitar during the verses, the instrumental break prior to the solo, and finally (and brilliantly), the five-note buildup from the end of the third verse ("First You've Got To Last") to the final chorus (complete with the choir and orchestral samples).  I also confess that I love the point where, during the buildup to the final chorus, Geddy stops playing and you just hear Alex's high note and Neil's snare drum bringing in the same final chorus - I wish they would have continued using this pause in future live versions, because it adds rhythmic punch and drama to the final chorus.   The Time Machine version (from 2012) contains what sound like keyboard, choir, and orchestral samples from the original recordings, unlike the 1988 version - still, it was welcome to hear this song live again, 24 years after A Show Of Hands. 

The point here is in how this Canadian power trio can sound like a band twice it's size (or larger).  Outside of the liberal application of technology (Alex's guitar effects and amp rack is legendary for its size, Neil's kits were renowned for their tone and girth, and in the 1980s, Geddy's synth setup was formidable too), the un-kept secret here is in the use of rhythmic and harmonic space.   Trios have a huge sonic canvas to fill, and Rush proved to be the masters of how to fill this sonic space with the right notes and the right sonic textures.   I would say, then, that Rush is the logical extension, and logical conclusion, of how far the power trio format can be taken.  

(For you lawyer types:  The links provided here take the viewer to copyrighted material.  The original recording of Marathon, along with the Show of Hands video, are owned by Universal Music Group.  The Time Machine video is owned by Anthem Entertainment/Zoe Records.  These links are provided purely for educational/informational purposes and no infringement is intended.   If requested, I'll remove the links.)

A Quick One

Some of my favorite times of my childhood came around the time of the Summer church festival.  My mother volunteered on the committees that put these annual events together in the mid 1970s, and would solicit and receive (among other things), discarded promotional copies of 45 RPM singles from the local AM radio station KLOK.   I remember going through some of these records, none of which were big hits, and through most of the vinyl rough I would find occasional diamonds.  One such diamond in the rough, which I recently rediscovered, is this bit of Philadelphia Soul-infused psycho-funk, alternately titled "I Don't Wanna Hear" and "Bull Doo Doo" from the group Spiritual Concept.   Other than Kenny Gamble, the only other name I recognize in the writing credit is T. Life, who would go on to produce and write for Evelyn "Champagne" King.   To me, this tune is a perfect aural backdrop for just about any of T-Rump's self-serving musings, or for President Obama when he waxes BS about his pet project, the TPP (The TPP IS Bull Doo Doo), or for just about any congress critter or media talking head.   Thus, I submit this link for your enjoyment.  

BTW, for you lawyer types out there: Sony Music Entertainment owns the copyright to this recording.   My intent here is purely educational and not for any kind of profit - I don't monetize this blog, anyway.   If requested, I'll remove the link. 

Also, if anybody from Sony Music, Philadelphia International Records, or if Mr. Gamble and/or Mr Huff are reading this: is there any way you can give this song a formal release?   Honestly, given the times and what people are going through right now, I think a lot of people, especially those with iTunes accounts and a spare $1.29 jangling in their bank accounts, would actually part with said cash for this excellent slice of Philly-Funk.  

Departures

A lot of people with names I grew up with - listening to and learning from - have left this mortal coil to start the New Year:

Natalie Cole. 
Maurice White.  
Dan Hicks.  
Paul Kantner.  
Lemmy Kilmister.  
David Bowie.
Mic Gillette (Tower of Power). 
Glenn Frey. 
Signe Anderson (Jefferson Airplane's original lead voice). 

One of the common cliche's we hear about when dealing with notable deaths, is the "rule of threes".   They always seemed to come in threes.   Perhaps now that the Woodstock generation is entering its elder stage, we should alter the rule of threes by a factor of...three?  Nine deaths are listed above, and I'm sure it's a non-conclusive list.  

I'm a solid Gen-Xer, having been conceived during the "Summer of Love" and born in April of the next year, and yet while I'm well aware of the passage of time and the inevitability of mortality...

It's still a stretch to believe that these people, whose music I grew up listening to, are no longer around to even discuss it, let alone create more for future generations to enjoy.   It motivates me (and I hope, those of you reading this) to take another listen to the veteran performers still alive as of this writing.  

Because neither you, nor I, nor they, know how much longer they've got.