THE WINDOW SHOPPERJohn Entwistle
Whistle Rymes 1997
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ELVIS BEANSZoot Horn Rollo
We Saw a Bozo Under the Sea 2001
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When great bands run their course and slowly dissolve, there's a lot of work to be done. Musicians fade into oblivion, songwriters begin a lonely course of solo coffee shop serenades, and the bit players who did their part in the melodic revolutions of their glory days inevitably capitulate, resorting to camping chairs and sepia-tone photographs. Memories shared over a beer or, for those upon whom touring took its toll, a tall glass of water.
Two of the more revered musicians in their respective bands, outfits whose work outlived a great deal of their members, have gone on to more muted and yet more interesting careers. John Entwistle, the understated bassist for the Who, took a short road into the sunset after they went their separate ways. Drifting for a while and penning an autobiography, he released several efforts under his own name over the years, and perhaps my favourite of all is the 1997 re-release, Whistle Rymes. It's hard to pin down as to why it stands out for me, but it captures something about him that goes beyond being a bassist.
For a band, the bass is the bedrock, the melodic cornerstone that forms the crosswords between the rhythm and the notes themselves. It is an instrument of great soul, form, time, and flair. Some of music's most eccentric figures have been bassists -- Jaco Pastorius, Flea, Victor Wooten, Roger Waters, Mike Gordon, Sting, Lemmy, Duff McKagan, Charles Mingus, John Paul Jones, McCartney, Bootsy Collins, Les Claypool -- the list alone reads like a Who's Who of dysfunctionality, of colour and resilience.
Entwistle, no stranger to the limelight, laid down several moody and intriguing tracks on "Whistle Rymes", and perhaps the creepiest of all came in this selection, "The Window Shopper." All about a peeping tom and not, as the title suggests, about browsing through storefront merchandise, the character in the song (I like to think the person is someone other than John himself) plaintively tries to explain why he does what he does. He's not a threatening man, just a lonely guy who needs to be close to someone, and he sure as sh*t can't afford a hooker, so staring at women through their windows has to be the compromise.
I can't afford to buy the kind of dirty booksThat show naked ladies with big chestsI can't afford to buy a woman to keep we warm at nightBut that don't mean that I can't show no interest.This chorus is repeated throughout, as if to suggest he's begging for someone who understands despite, as the song puts it "that's why I'm waiting at the end of your garden." It's haunting enough until its backdrop is stuffed with eerie, fantastical cornets and a clanging bassline that brings out that unsettling undertone -- the bass alone makes you think that this man is disturbed enough that one night he just might mean some harm, and that he's not just looking.
On the other hand, Zoot Horn Rollo aka Bill Harkleroad, long-time guitarist for the mad genius Don Van Vliet aka Captain Beefheart and his Magic Band, offers up something a little more in line with his musical lineage - part instrumental, part bizarre, part experimental, and completely enjoyable.
Harkleroad approached the album with intriguing intents in mind: he wrote the songs using MIDI software, and once complete, he used the MIDI tracks as the backdrop and blueprint for the musicians to use for guidance. The result is a series of meandering and humorous as that of the Magic Band; the band sounds like a tight, well-oiled unit, when in fact the majority of the players had never met before -- their precision comes from their ability not to mesh well personally but their ability to follow along with MIDI lines to perfection. An experiment of sorts, and one that pays off in the end.
As enigmatic as his one-time frontman and harmonicist, Harkleroad puts together an entertaining album that floods the mind with Beefheart nostalgia and such Zappa output as the wonderful "Shut up n' Play Yer Guitar" box set or other instrumentals that filled the likes of "Lather."
Compelling, attentive and well-executed, We Saw a Bozo Under the Sea fulfills exactly what you might expect to hear given his bio.
"Elvis Beans", the closing track to the album, is a sound choice given the funk undertone. It's one of the snappier tunes, driven with backbeats and permeated with demented Steve Vai-like guitar riffs from Rollo himself. The bass snarls underneath, and while the song does little to shed meaning on its title, it is a great representation of an artist who's escaped his former glory and gone on to write his own.
Any other great solo projects out there anyone can offer up? These are but the tip of the iceberg, and with the attention span of modern music ebbing to a dull drip, there are always musicians falling out of vanity bands and projects. Feed on these and suggest some more, when the weather is not so nice outside, of course.
