Winnipeg Again: Gimme Some Guess
Who, Some BTO ... Gimme Some Blue, Some Cigars
by Bill Tuomala
INTRO PSA: Hotel, Motel, Holiday Inn Music
Be
warned, there's jazzy stylings to deal with on both of these collections. The
Guess Who weren't too bad at it, as a listen to "These Eyes" will
confirm. They also hit with "Undun", which for a couple of years as
a teen I thought was a Doors song due to that Lizard King/Holiday Inn feel to
it. Though distinguishing Burton Cummings from Jim Morrison shouldn't be too
tough as Cummings can actually sing. Bachman-Turner
Overdrive did "Looking Out For #1" which I was pumped to hear once
I saw the title, figuring it was another gem of a burly BTO song like
"Let It Ride" or "Roll On Down The Highway." But instead
it's a jazz-lite number, dainty and precious with crappy vocals. Such vocals
add to the atmosphere when BTO is going at it hard, but just annoying when
they're in the lounge. Likewise, "Blue Collar" is a similar wimpy
workout about the joys of a boho lifestyle that also let me down. Because if
you think about the way the BTO guys looked - I have even seen a photo where
one dude is wearing a hard hat - then a song titled "Blue Collar"
should be blue collar sounding.
Randy
Bachman has since gone on to release two jazz albums. Dave Brubeck could not
be reached for comment. A
Record Review Written In The Style Of Bill
Tuomala (Part One) The
Best of the Guess Who: Side one
(bought on vinyl of course, and according to the pricing sticker this beauty
sat inexplicably in the Roadrunner Records bins for over a year-and-a-half)
captures essential sixties-into-seventies pop such as "These Eyes,"
"Laughing," and "No Time." "American Woman" was
not only horribly misread by bonehead Lenny Kravitz, he also managed to make
Heather Graham seem creepy. "No Sugar Tonight" has a hey we can
be counterculture too reference
to "a bag of goodies." Side two has songs not normally heard on
American radio, aside from the socialist "Share the Land," which
could only be written by folks who have enjoyed the single-payer health
insurance system. Single-payer sounds good to me - as a Canadian in my
college dorm once said: "It's like Allstate - you're covered." This
anthology sounds good also. Four stars. These
Eyes (Are Blue. So Are Hers. And Hers. And
Hers.) It
was a Winnipeg band, Harlequin, that played at the first concert I attended.
It was April 1982 in Grand Forks, I was sixteen. The music was okay, but the
show was mostly memorable for my buddy wondering why I suddenly liked Neil
Young (credit USA Network's Night Flight) and us spotting a female classmate entranced by the Manitoban
rockers and dancing enthusiastically in the front row. We were a little
dumbfounded: We have a rock chick in our class? A few years later I would spot this same chick
at a bar near Detroit Lakes and she was dressing just like Boy George. Wonder
what kind of a guy she was hoping to meet that night. Winnipeg
is the only Canadian city I've ever been to, twice in high school on field
trips (it was high school in North Dakota, why not Winnipeg?) and once in the early nineties on
business. The best part about the latter trip was: 1) Every hot girl in the
city had long brown hair and blue eyes - yowsa! 2) Thinking I was cool by
ordering a "Blue" (LaBatt) while in various establishments. I
learned the Blue trick the hard way. The first night in town, my co-worker
and I went to the lounge in the Holiday Inn we were shacked up in. (Little
did I know that the type of music which Holiday Inn lounges are notorious for
would factor into my future Winnipeg bands ramblings.) I, for one, needed a
drink. I had turned on the TV once I entered my room - an automatic reflex
while in any hotel room anywhere - and what did I see? TV stations from my
hometown of Grand Forks! It was mind-blowing as in Grand Forks we had two
Winnipeg stations on cable. Who knew there was a cross-border reciprocity
television agreement? While in the lounge, I confidently ordered "a
Labatt." The waitress, on to me immediately as an American, fired back
with: "Labatt Blue? Labatt Light? Labatt Dry? We have all kinds of
them." Uh, a Labatt Blue, I responded. She clued me in: "We call
that a 'Blue' up here, honey." I could have pointed out that where I
came from a "Blue" was a Pabst, but knew it would come out smarmy
and whiny, not witty. We
were there three nights. On the last night in town, the other bean counters
turned in early rather than boring me like they had on previous nights with
shop talk and detailing the genius of works of art they enjoyed such as The
Bridges of Madison County. I
went to my room and stared longingly at the building across the street, the
establishment whose neon sign haunted me every night as I looked out the
window before retiring. It was a place called "The Keg." Bright
lights, big foreign Canadian city, me bored senseless by construction
accountants and their wild, wild ways. Fuck it, I said, The Keg is calling
me. I walked across the street armed with a pocketful of pretty Canadian
money. The place turned out to be a steakhouse. It was a slow weeknight and I
plopped myself at the end of the bar. I ordered a Blue, but the bartender
said that it was Import Night and that I could get an Old Milwaukee on
special. I told him I was an import myself and stuck with the Blue. Drinking
on the company's expense account made my decision all the easier. Later, the
bartender asked if I was interested in looking at some ladies as he could
call me a cab to take me to a highly- recommended gentlemen's club. I
chickened out, saying no thanks. Damn me! I have since heard that Canadian
strip clubs are wild. Needless to say, all the hot strippers would have had
long brown hair and blue eyes. Holiday
Inn lounge gaffes and refusing strip club concierge services aside, the true
idiot move of mine was realized at the very end of the trip when the customs
agent at the Minneapolis airport asked me if was transporting any tobacco
products. Double damn me! I forgot to buy some Cubans. A
Record Review Written In The Style Of Bill
Tuomala (Part Two) Best
of BTO (So Far): Normally, I
would overthink and overwrite this one. (In fact, I must confess - I already
tried to overthink and
overwrite this.) But hey: it's Bachman-Turner Overdrive. If you can't stand
them, you know your reasons. But there are reasons to love them, or at least
a handful of their songs. Excellent riffage plus an acoustic guitar generally
accompanies electric guitar for a sweet sound. Catchiness runs rampant in
"You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet" and "Hey You." "Roll On
Down The Highway" is about speeding in a vehicle, but "Let It
Ride" is about dumping a chick ... and here you thought they were both
variations on a theme. Little Richard shows up on "Take It Like A
Man." (The song's title takes on added meaning considering that
Richard's first hit was titled "Tutti Frutti.") And finally,
"Takin' Care of Business" is a talisman for those of us who are
self-employed - it ranks up there with The Rockford Files. Three stars. |
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