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Inspired by a quote attributed to the eastern mystic Meyer Baba, Bobby McFerrin created this a cappella masterpiece. And, although Michael Musto of the Village Voice has proclaimed it the “worst song of all time”, and Blender Magazine snarked “it’s difficult to think of a song more likely to plunge you into suicidal despondency,” this irrepressible ditty stands as the cornerstone of a singular musical career, festooned with awards and encomiums, including a Grammy for Lifetime achievement in 2022. It’s not so much the possibly insipid - (depending on your level of cynicism) - lyrics, it’s the purity and perfection of Bobby’s voice alone, albeit overdubbed, that communicates its message of joy. The son of an opera singer and a voice teacher, Mr. McFerrin possesses a preternatural perfection of pitch and tone that has enabled him, among many other extraordinary feats, to trade horn parts with the Marsalis brothers, or deliver a flawless William Tell Overture solo.As a philosopher and exponent of music’s healing

Like a cat with nine lives, Chip Taylor’s persona has embodied many iterations. Starting with his successful “songwriter for hire” status, penning golden hits like Wild Thing, and Angel of the Morning, up through his phoenix-like resurgence as an Americana elder statesman, the story of this man’s artistic survival, emerging as it did, out from the quicksand of addiction, stands as one of the Splendid Bohemian’s tales of celebration. So much so that it has to be told in two parts. BROWSE THROUGH THE CATALOG OF CHIP'S RECORD LABEL "TRAIN WRECK RECORDS"  https://www.trainwreckrecords.com/https://www.songhall.org/profile/chip_taylor

Like a cat with nine lives, Chip Taylor’s persona has embodied many iterations. Starting with his successful “songwriter for hire” status, penning golden hits like Wild Thing, and Angel of the Morning, up through his phoenix-like resurgence as an Americana elder statesman, the story of this man’s artistic survival, emerging as it did, out from the quicksand of addiction, stands as one of the Splendid Bohemian’s tales of celebration. So much so that it has to be told in two parts. https://www.songhall.org/profile/chip_taylor

What was that Frankenstein music machine with all the dials, sliders, patch cords etc., that made other-worldly sounds that were supposed to resemble “real” instruments, like strings, horns and flutes, but didn’t? It was the mighty Moog, invented by Cornell doctoral student and Theremin salesman, Robert Moog. He hooked up with musician-educator Herb Deutsch, developed the voltage regulation for oscillators and modulators, and the thing caught on.The first time most of us heard it was on Wendy Carlos’ SWITCHED ON BACH record, which, by aligning itself to one of the world’s most beloved composers, became a sensation in 1968, and was a defining feature of Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange.  Not long after that it became an absolute must have for the Prog matadors like Keith Emerson of ELP.  The Beatles also used it extensively on Abby Road, etc. The list goes on and on. Speaking for myself, I’ve always found the Moog and the electronic sounds it made cold and clinical (though fascinating). However, on this re

With its distinctive 16-notes-to-the-bar bassline and unashamedly honky sax solo (played on two saxes at once), Ian Dury and the Blockheads’ signature hit was certainly one of the more idiosyncratic No 1s of the 1970s. The same could be said of their inimitable frontman, who exemplified the post-punk era’s particular ability to allow unlikely and extraordinary characters to infiltrate the mainstream.Just three years prior to reaching the top spot in January 1979, the edgy, twitchy singer-narrator-wordsmith dubbed “the Count Dracula of vernacular” had been the thirtysomething, struggling frontman of Kilburn and the High Roads, a seemingly washed-up, chaotic, bedraggled bunch of misfits and miscreants. Left with a severely withered arm and leg following a childhood bout of polio, Dury had already overcome disability, taunts and school days he described as “heavy-duty sadism” and “unmitigated hell” to become an unconventional but riveting live performer.

At the outset, let me apologize for liking this song. It was outre almost immediately after its release. At this point it is so retrograde that I think a person might be able to enjoy it once again for it’s ironic naïveté. But, I have always loved the way her voice swoops up on the name “Bobby”. It still brings chills. I was nine years old, and I wanted to be Bobby for my crush. It’s so interesting with the sober goggles of reflection to realize how programmed I was by popular culture to accept certain societal dogmas in terms of the relations between the sexes.  Marcie Blane was only 16 when she recorded it, and it was her only chart hit. Born Marcia Blank in Brooklyn, NY in 1944, Marci was discovered by Marv Holzman, an A&R man for Seville records, off of a demo she had recorded as a favor for a songwriter friend. The company changed her name and gave her this song to record, which she did, and, then, she went off to be a counsellor at summer camp. When she returned, she was a star. But, the supernova o

It came roaring out of the car radio speakers like a sonic boom, powered by Dave Clark’s “Air Hammer” pulsating drum beats and Denis Payton’s beefy saxophone.  (Clearly, this was inspirational to Clarence Clemons, when crafting Bruce Springsteen’s, E-Street sound.) Mike Smith, on double-tracked lead vocal and Vox organ may have looked like the leader, with his cute Paul McCartney face, but without a doubt this was the drummer’s party. Dave Clark, (b.1939) is an entrepreneurial former stunt-man, who parlayed his Tottenham sound into a multi-million dollar concern; he owned all his masters from day one, re-releasing them, to universal acclaim, on CD in 1993;  the other song writers in the group shared writing credits with Clark unquestioningly - even if he hadn’t written a line. The Dave Clark 5 started as a teenage skiffle group to raise funds for his school football team to go to the Netherlands, and, fittingly, this song became an anthem for several teams throughout the years. Can’t you just picture the scre

Jimmy Scott / James Victor Scott (1925-2014)When Jimmy was first heard on records, the audience assumed it was a woman. He was a one of a kind jazz vocalist, a phenomenon who lived a challenging existence, trying to negotiate his intersexuality with the prejudicial attitudes and toxic stigma of the 1940s and 50s. This caused him to adopt an aggressively “male” stance in order to survive and maintain his equilibrium. The 60s and 70s brought some improvement - career wise, but his greatest recognition found him towards the end of his life.  There is, however, an abundant and glorious discography that he left behind for the ages.https://www.washingtonpost.com/entertainment/music/jimmy-scott-hard-luck-singer-with-a-haunting-voice-dies-at-88/2014/06/13/270725b6-48c3-11e3-a196-3544a03c2351_story.htmlhttps://www.discogs.com/artist/129731-Jimmy-Scott

https://www.rpmchallenge.com/“We work not only to produce but to give value to time.” (Delacroix)Ten years ago I participated in the RPM Song Challenge: 10 songs in 30 days. I chose the theme of “Time” - (a fertile and elastic subject), for my inventions.  Included here are 4 songs from that creative surge.It is said that time moves more quickly the older one gets. My brain can’t compute that it’s been ten years since these songs popped into being; It seemed like a speck.I hadn’t heard these recordings since that time - they had been committed to little mini cards, and salted away in an obscure container. I’ve since moved, and I thought the files had been lost to the sands of…… well, you know.But, Eureka!  I remembered that I had logged entries into my diary, notating the precise location of each tune: (which card, the sequence of titles, and timings for each). And, they appeared! Talk about foresight, and good time-management… temporarily.So, in praise of our brief, yet glorious existence on this globe, allo

The lifeblood during my youth was infused by the artists who plied their magical trade via the 45 rpm discs of the 60s and 70s. I never stopped to think about the business men who signed and recorded these artists, distributed their records, and got them played. Art is Art, and Business is Business, and apparently you can’t have one without the other. But, oft-times, in the Capitalist system, control of the means of production and distribution don’t equate with who gets to share in the pie. In many cases, the recognized artists are exploited and only the business men get rich. In this episode we take a closer look at the practices of a couple of the biggest players.One of the positive aspects of the internet today is that the artist has more control over their product - which is more democratic, but without the gate-keepers of yore, it’s easier for your creations to get lost in the crush of competition. We look back at this time, not with nostalgia, but, not without a certain degree of awe, either. 

Herb Alpert: you’ll never find a more beloved figure in the pop music world. A mensch. Did you think he was Latin? Nope. He IS an Angeleno, but….he was a Jewish kid, born in Boyle Heights; went to Fairfax High and USC. Before “cultural appropriation” became a dirty word, Herbie had a revelation while attending a bullfight in Baja - came back with “The Lonely Bull”, and ignited a career that has won him a Tony, 8 Grammies, and, a National Medal of Arts. He is the only musician to have #1 hits, both as a vocalist and instrumentalist. In his mid-sixties heyday he outsold The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and Frank Sinatra. Always smiling behind his trumpet, the handsome Mr. Alpert became an unlikely pin-up, then he scored big-time as a record producer and mogul (with partner Jerry Moss), and today, at 88, as an artist of renown, crafting massive sculptural installations and paintings, he continues to thrive creatively. I guess you could say that in addition to being a dedicated, hard worker, that he also was bles

The first time I heard this tune was on Ricky Jay’s collection of songs about cards and card players. Subsequently, I heard Steve Earle’s story about how, when he was playing some dive for 4 or 5 people, Townes Van Zandt stumbles in and starts heckling him. It’s Outlaw Country lore: Townes demands Earle play Wabash Cannonball- repeatedly. Finally, Steve demurs, claiming not to know the song, but lays this - Towne’s own lyrically impossible gauntlet, line perfect, on his drunken hero, and thus begins a legendary friendship. The words fly by so fast here that it’s hard to follow the narrative, which upon some study, reveals a poignant tale of a royal pair of Anthropomorphic, married playing cards doing battle through the avatars of Mud and Gold - a couple of hapless gambling addicts. The overall message being that winning and losing are matters of destiny, dictated by the fates, and beyond our control, so you might as well keep raising the stakes. Townes, an acknowledged tortured genius whose untimely death at

The 4AM Rat Pack performance presented here was privately pressed on vinyl as a special gift to very special 500 Club patrons. We present this untouched audio from the original acetate as it represents the taste and feel of this historic occasion.What tomfoolery! It’s 4 o’clock in the morning, and these bad boys are just getting started. This recording is a rare glimpse into the real, live, Rat Pack experience - and, the slightly distorted, overloaded sound is just part of the cinema verite. “YOU ARE THERE,” as Walter Cronkite once intoned. The year is 1962. Dean Martin has circled back to the 500 club in Atlantic City, where his career with Jerry Lewis first exploded, and his rat pack brothers in arms are there to support. For anybody devoted to, or interested in this celebrated entourage of 20th century entertainers, you can’t get any closer to the actual experience of being there. The banter is not particularly clever (they’re enjoying themselves, I won’t say MORE than the audience, but equally, at least).

A Cherry Bomb is a spherical exploding device, banned in 1966, but whose pop is enjoyed throughout the nation as a salute by rebellious teenagers everywhere. A “cherry” is also a moniker for a virgin’s hymen, the “popping” of which was a badge of honor for teenage boys everywhere. Cherie Curry, the lead singer of The Runaways, an all-girl, hard rocking band devised by notorious L.A. huckster Kim Fowley, sang the anthemic Cherry Bomb - the explosive debut single by that group. And there you have it: a circle within a circle, a wheel within a wheel - a brilliant conceptual confluence for rock n roll rejuvenation.But it wasn’t just hype and corsets - these players: Joan Jett, Lita Ford, Cherrie Curry, Jackie Fox, and Sandy West were the real deal, and this song - written on the spot by Joan for Cherie’s audition, exploded in people’s ears just like its gunpowder namesake, and it catapulted to #6 on the Billboard chart. What is it about that (ch-ch-ch) stutter, used by David Bowie in Changes, and in a “G” variati

Today The Splendid Bohemians pay homage to three not only consummate artists of the guitar, but teachers of their craft as well - responsible for passing on the mysteries of their music to generations of thankful acolytes. ARLEN ROTH:Arlen Roth is the ultimate sideman and guitar teacher who has played with everybody. His first book, Slide Guitar, was published by Oak Publications when he was 21. Roth is a Telecaster enthusiast who wrote the book Masters of the Telecaster detailing the techniques of many famous Telecaster guitarists.He has been called "Master of the Telecaster.”THE REVEREND GARY DAVIS: A Piedmont style guitar master, The Reverend Gary Davis was a player who became a gospel singer, Christian minister, and teacher.The folk revival of the 1960s invigorated his performing career, when he performed at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965. Peter, Paul and Mary recorded Davis' version of “Samson and Delilah”, also known as "If I Had My Way", a song by Blind Willie Johnson, which Davi

There was nobody like Lou Reed, and there is no Sunny Song like Dirty Blvd: a black and white hellscape, described by a cynic past being surprised by any indignity - yet, still managing to extract beauty and hope out of the filthy miasma. When the Statue of Bigotry says: “give me your hungry, your tired, your poor, I’ll piss on them” you know this Jeremiah is decrying the bitter truth about our present times. Still, at the very last moments of his life, Lou was doing poetic Tai Chi moves on his deathbed to ease himself into the portal of eternity.In the song, the cursed, downtrodden boy, Pedro finds a book of magic in a trashcan and dreams of flying away from the dirty blvd. For an urban portrait this grim, it’s amazing how uplifting the song becomes, and as the final chorus swells and Dion jumps in to add: “fly, fly away…” my spirit is soaring.  Lou was a Rock n Roll Animal through and through, but he was also a serious artist who aspired to lift the genre to the heights of great literature. And, on Dirty Bl

Richard Lewis"This is Joyce, Richard’s wife. Thank you for your loving tributes. He would be beyond thrilled and so touched, as am I. In response to the many queries , I know Richard would appreciate donations in his memory to the Los Angeles based charity http://comedygivesback.com or the charity of your choice.""If you wish to know who Richard Lewis truly was, I urge you to see his greatest dramatic achievement, a 1995 motion picture titled “Drunks”.As a comedian there were few who could match his Lenny Bruce inspired delivery.Lenny's daughter Kitty was a  friend of Mr. Lewis as she respected his comedic bravery.The film is an enduring creation combining all of the creative and complicated parts that made this man one of the most unique artists of our time.Richard was a grateful, kind and beloved recovering alcoholic and drug addict with 30 plus years of sobriety at the time of his death.Lewis had been sober since the mid-1990s after ending up in the ER, feeling near death. He went on to

Noel Coward (1899-1973), that epitome of British sophistication, was an invention. He was entirely self educated, having left school at 9 years old to pursue a career on the stage. After a modest success as an actor, he switched to playwriting in 1924 with The Vortex - (in order to write a good part for himself) - and set the theatrical world on fire. The combination of his jaw-dropping verbal dexterity, bravado verging on ballsiness, and tender insight into the frailty of humanity bordered on the supernatural. In the 1920s he became the brightest of “The Bright Young Things,” the Beatles of his era.His life story (too enormous to recount here) encompasses a litany of glittering highs, gut wrenching lows, dramatic intrigues, and an unparalleled output of creative work that would crash a computer. Yet, through it all the manufactured elan, the stylish ease with which he presented himself - as he encapsulated it his: “talent to amuse” never failed him.This parody of Riviera society, recorded towards the end of

THE NERVE REUNIONThis is Bill Mesnik of the Splendid Bohemians with a musical tale that could Hit A Nerve with you:Sometimes life surprises you, and families are created and sustained where you don’t expect. I belong to a garage band brotherhood, consisting of five late-life Peter Pans, swaddled in the moon-glow of teenage rock n roll dreams, and dedicated to the proposition that all musical talent, although not necessarily created equal, can restore rejuvenation to those who practice together. We call ourselves The Nerve (as in: “of all the…”), and we are: Steve Rockwell (guitar and vocals); Rees Pugh (drums and vocals); Preston Maybank (bass and vocals); myself - they call me “Professor” (guitar and vocals); and our harmonica emeritus Bob Pescovitz, who relocated to Bellingham, WA. We’ve played in bars, bowling alleys, house parties, and street fairs….. for over 25 years, and I love them dearly. When I retired and moved and hour and a half away, I thought, “Ok, that’s the end of that”, and even when our ete

                                                             Welcome To Hotel BohemiaEccentric. Rebellious. Amoral, quite often. But bohemianism was, maybe still is, about much more than just frightening the horses.The writer Virginia Nicholson recently told the Today programme that "in a sense, we are all bohemians today".But what is a bohemian, how do you spot one, and might you be a boho, too?"Bohemian" was originally a term with pejorative undertones given to Roma gypsies, commonly believed by the French to have originated in Bohemia, in central Europe.The Oxford English Dictionary's definition mentions someone "especially an artist, literary man, or actor, who leads a free, vagabond, or irregular life, not being particular as to the society he frequents, and despising conventionalities generally".But the connotation rapidly became a romantic one. From its birth in Paris in the 1850s, and the huge success of Murgier's play Scenes de la vie de Boheme, the ethic sprea