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Post by Kapitan on May 14, 2020 12:33:20 GMT
That was definitely the way it was in those days. Kind of a double-edged sword, though, because without a hit power ballad, a lot of bands simply weren't going to have a hit. Pigeon-holed, yes. But successful!
(Saigon Kick had a hit power ballad? I don't remember that.)
But here is something more representative, a semi-recent (2009) live performance of "Addicted to That Rush." The first two minutes of the video has bassist Billy Sheehan and guitarist Paul Gilbert "trading fours" before going into the song's unison, virtuosic riff. Seriously two of the best technical musicians of the era to play in the same band. (Probably the most comparable pair were Reb Beach and Kip Winger in Winger, another band known as a bubblegum prettyboy band.)
By the way, note how popular this band and this type of music were even in 2009 in Japan. Budokan is packed!
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bellbottoms
Pacific Coast Highway
Posts: 727
Likes: 201
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Post by bellbottoms on May 14, 2020 12:40:07 GMT
(Saigon Kick had a hit power ballad? I don't remember that.) Behold... I really loved this song back in the day! Haven't heard it in a bajillion years.
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Post by Kapitan on May 14, 2020 12:41:57 GMT
Yes, I just googled it while you were posting. Of course I know the song, I can't believe I had forgotten all about it. Aging is a bitch!
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Post by kds on May 14, 2020 12:44:13 GMT
That was definitely the way it was in those days. Kind of a double-edged sword, though, because without a hit power ballad, a lot of bands simply weren't going to have a hit. Pigeon-holed, yes. But successful!
(Saigon Kick had a hit power ballad? I don't remember that.)
But here is something more representative, a semi-recent (2009) live performance of "Addicted to That Rush." The first two minutes of the video has bassist Billy Sheehan and guitarist Paul Gilbert "trading fours" before going into the song's unison, virtuosic riff. Seriously two of the best technical musicians of the era to play in the same band. (Probably the most comparable pair were Reb Beach and Kip Winger in Winger, another band known as a bubblegum prettyboy band.)
By the way, note how popular this band and this type of music were even in 2009 in Japan. Budokan is packed!
I remember Billy Sheehan was That Metal Show around 2010, and they gave him a good ribbing for the old "we're big in Japan" cliche, but it's very true about Mr. Big. Winger was another band that rocked harder than they ever got credit for, but just a sign of the times. Here's the Saigon Kick song
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Post by Kapitan on May 18, 2020 17:02:37 GMT
Placeholding teaser... I'm working on something that will be interesting to ... well, maybe KDS. Maybe. And me. Try to contain yourselves!
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Post by kds on May 18, 2020 17:44:35 GMT
Just as aside, the tenth anniversary of Ronnie James Dio's passing happened over the weekend.
I remember he died on a Sunday, and I was shocked because by all accounts, he was winning his battle with cancer. Heaven and Hell was even lining up dates for the summer. But, I got a text from a friend, and I thought she was fucking with me. But, nope. I'm thankful I got to see him a few times.
The following Friday night, I took out all of my Dio era Rainbow and Sabbath CDs, along with Elf and Dio, and put together a six hour plus Dio marathon.
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Post by Kapitan on May 18, 2020 21:46:14 GMT
If you’re American, you probably know Whitesnake from their late-80s mega-hit power ballads and singer David Coverdale’s then-wife Tawny Kitaen helping the band sell their brand of Zeppelin blues-meets-hair metal to the masses. If that’s the case, you’re missing out. Not because those hit albums— Whitesnake and Slip of the Tongue aren’t good: they are two of the better hard rock albums of that era—but because there’s more to Whitesnake than the slithering, serpentine moves of Kitaen (or hired-gun guitar god Steve Vai, for that matter). Rock fans from the UK are more likely to know the band’s early incarnation, a more blues-based, blue-collar hard rock band that grew out of the dissolution of Deep Purple. Coverdale spent a couple of years in the mid-late ‘70s chasing a solo career before that project that included an album called White Snake. Shortly thereafter, the band coalesced into a unit and was known as David Coverdale & Whitesnake before becoming Whitesnake. This incarnation of the band was most often a sextet, with twin guitarists Micky Moody and Bernie Marsden, bassist Neil Murray, and, before long, former Deep Purple bandmates keyboardist Jon Lord and drummer Ian Paice working behind primary songwriter and singer Coverdale. In some ways, it didn’t vary much from the later, far more popular group. Coverdale’s songs were always the same sleazy batch of double entendres that they were a decade later, and blues was always the backbone of this band. But the sonics were entirely different a decade before the band was committed to airy synthesizers, effects-laden guitars, and the endless reverb of the era. But Moody’s and Marsden’s twin guitars of the late ‘70s and early ‘80s sound nothing like the various pairings of later Whitesnake albums and tours, not because they were necessarily better or worse than Vai, Vivian Campbell, John Sykes, or Adrien Vandenberg—well, OK, they probably were worse than those guitar heroes—but because they played so well together. In those years, Whitesnake was a real unit, not a shuffling lineup of backing musicians. Whether in twin lead lines, complementary rhythms, or insertions of tasty slide licks, they made for a really appealing duo. Lord joined the band after its initial EP ( Snakebite), but in time for its 1978 debut, Trouble. His bona fides are unquestionable, a master of rock keyboards, and the Hammond in particular. Most of his work here is on that instrument, though the occasional rollicking piano parts leap out as inventive additions to a sound that can grow stale quickly without such injections of contrast. Murray’s bass playing might be the secret weapon of this band. He combined the steady bottom end necessary for hard rock with melodic, surprisingly agile parts. Somehow he was entirely in sync with drummers Paice and his predecessor, Dave Dowle, while also joining the guitarists for particular riffs, all while adding his own complements to the proceedings. In fact, it’s the musicianship across the board that might be most surprising if you’ve only heard the hits. This Whitesnake sounds like the best damn bar band you’ve ever heard, not just another in a long line of arena-ready MTV bands. (Listen to “Nighthawk (Vampires Blues)” for an example.) It’s obvious this group rose from the ashes of Deep Purple with additions from other solid working musicians. At their best, they were among the few groups who can take the same three or four chord progressions, basic melodies, and subject matter but turn them into exciting listening with their arrangements and performances. It’s no small task. The band was not great. The songs did fall into that rut of sameness after a few albums, and the styles definitely passed them by (until their mid-80s overhaul). But it could be damn good. If you aren’t familiar but like the idea of some bluesy ‘70s hard rock, give this playlist a listen. Thirteen songs, 52 minutes.
“Take Me With You” “Long Way From Home” “Bloody Mary” “Here I Go Again” “Rock an’ Roll Women” “Ain’t Gonna Cry No More” “Fool For Your Loving” “Hit An’ Run” “Wine, Women, An’ Song” “You ’N’ Me” “Outlaw” “Nighthawk (Vampire Blues)” “We Wish You Well”
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Post by kds on May 19, 2020 12:20:48 GMT
Nice. I was pretty unaware of the pre Geffen Whitesnake until the early 2000s, when I read a reference in Classic Rock magazine to the original Saints and Sinners version of Here I Go Again, which is a more bluesy version than the 1987 version. I do agree about the musicianship of the band. Bernie and Micky worked well together, but they are pretty far down on the list of guitarists that have been in Whitesnake, which includes Mel Galley, John Sykes, Steve Vai, and more recently Doug Aldrich, Reb Beach, and Joel Hoekstra. Of course, as a big Purple fan, I also appreciate that the 1980-1982 version of Whitesnake consisted of 3/5 of the Mk III and IV lineups.
That's a nice list, but I'd probably include Walking in the Shadow of the Blues. That one's a corker.
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Post by Kapitan on May 19, 2020 12:35:24 GMT
The latter-day Whitesnake guitarists are and were all great, too. It almost feels to me at this point like David Lee Roth did for years, like a place where you can just count on great guitarists coming in to fill the role. (And of course they actually shared one in common, in Vai.)
As for "Walkin' in the Shadow of the Blues," I really like it too. But it's another longer song, and I was also already pretty heavy on Lovehunter tunes. I was also trying to keep some variety among the songs (from an admittedly not especially varied group of candidates).
After really giving those early albums more attention, I will say that Trouble and Lovehunter are probably the best things that band ever did in the studio outside of their more famous, hit-period albums. To me, those albums had stronger songs and more energy; whereas by the latter first-era albums, things felt stagnant.
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Post by kds on May 19, 2020 12:40:59 GMT
The latter-day Whitesnake guitarists are and were all great, too. It almost feels to me at this point like David Lee Roth did for years, like a place where you can just count on great guitarists coming in to fill the role. (And of course they actually shared one in common, in Vai.)
As for "Walkin' in the Shadow of the Blues," I really like it too. But it's another longer song, and I was also already pretty heavy on Lovehunter tunes. I was also trying to keep some variety among the songs (from an admittedly not especially varied group of candidates).
After really giving those early albums more attention, I will say that Trouble and Lovehunter are probably the best things that band ever did in the studio outside of their more famous, hit-period albums. To me, those albums had stronger songs and more energy; whereas by the latter first-era albums, things felt stagnant.
I'd probably agree with that, while including Ready an Willing. I've just recently read Martin Popoff's book on Whitesnake, and there was discussion about a general malaise when Saints and Sinners was recorded, and there are a lot of paint by numbers songs on that one. That prompted Coverdale to shake up the lineup for the first time. Of course, his hand was forced by Paice and Lord rejoining Purple. Although, it's a real shame that DC and John Sykes didn't form more of a long lasting partnership.
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Post by Kapitan on May 19, 2020 12:50:52 GMT
Although, it's a real shame that DC and John Sykes didn't form more of a long lasting partnership. Absolutely. That should have been one of the great partnerships of the latter part of the '80s. In a way, it was anyway, just because of the s/t album.
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Post by kds on May 19, 2020 12:59:51 GMT
Although, it's a real shame that DC and John Sykes didn't form more of a long lasting partnership. Absolutely. That should have been one of the great partnerships of the latter part of the '80s. In a way, it was anyway, just because of the s/t album. Both had huge egos at the time. And Sykes was out of the band by the time the album was released. Although for a glimpse at what a follow up to Whitesnake 1987 might've sounded like, there's always Blue Murder's self titled debut.
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Post by Kapitan on May 19, 2020 14:43:20 GMT
Although for a glimpse at what a follow up to Whitesnake 1987 might've sounded like, there's always Blue Murder's self titled debut. I don't know if that's what a new Whitesnake follow-up would have sounded like, in that no Whitesnake follow-up would have excluded Coverdale's style and songwriting. So any reality is probably somewhere in between those two albums (Blue Murder and Slip of the Tongue).
By the way, this has me re-listening to the Blue Murder debut. It definitely leans heavier on Zeppelinisms than Whitesnake (who already made no secret of their appreciation/worship), but it is also really, really bloated.
It's funny that Sykes is (rightly) credited for helping Whitesnake update their sound and find American commercial appeal, yet the first album where he was given free rein, the average song is nearly six minutes long... Not every song needs two guitar solos and a "Whole Lotta Love" style breakdown in the middle.
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Post by kds on May 19, 2020 14:56:06 GMT
Although for a glimpse at what a follow up to Whitesnake 1987 might've sounded like, there's always Blue Murder's self titled debut. I don't know if that's what a new Whitesnake follow-up would have sounded like, in that no Whitesnake follow-up would have excluded Coverdale's style and songwriting. So any reality is probably somewhere in between those two albums (Blue Murder and Slip of the Tongue).
By the way, this has me re-listening to the Blue Murder debut. It definitely leans heavier on Zeppelinisms than Whitesnake (who already made no secret of their appreciation/worship), but it is also really, really bloated.
It's funny that Sykes is (rightly) credited for helping Whitesnake update their sound and find American commercial appeal, yet the first album where he was given free rein, the average song is nearly six minutes long... Not every song needs two guitar solos and a "Whole Lotta Love" style breakdown in the middle.
It was also John Kalodner, who pushed for some of the Zeppelin-esque touches on those Geffen era Snake releases. He figured they could take advantage of the void that Zepp left in the late 80s. That song length issue is probably what hurt Blue Murder from being bigger than they could have been. I remember the big "hit" on that album was Jelly Roll, and that song was hardly representative of the album.
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Post by Kapitan on May 20, 2020 12:02:12 GMT
A friend of mine tipped me off to the podcast "Wind of Change," in which an American journalist investigates the rumor he heard that the CIA actually wrote the 1990 Scorpions hit ballad.
Here is a link to the podcast. (I haven't listened to it yet.)
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