Sept. 15, 1978 Gusto record review: Home improvements with Jethro T. Megahertz

 

Another afternoon with my imaginary frenemy, Jethro T. Megahertz.

Sept. 15, 1978 Gusto 

        It was one of those dark, dank, dismal days that portend the end of summer. Having nothing else to do but watch my tan fade, I rolled around past the bungalow of that legendary media wizard, Jethro T. Megahertz. There was no answer at the doorbell, but suddenly a terrible pounding arose from the windward side of the house. I crept over cautiously to see what was happening.

        It was Megahertz. In his mouth he had half a dozen nails. At his feet was a shipping carton full of this past season’s albums, which he was nailing to his clapboards through the hole in the middle of the discs.

        “Anderson, you scrivening scoundrel,” he snorted through his black beard. “You’re just in time to give me a hand with my latest brainstorm. I’ve finally come up with the ultimate solution to that age-old problem of what to do with dumb records. How are you with a hammer?”

        “Hold everything, Megahertz,” I replied. “What are you doing here? Building a hall of fame for losers?”

        “Au contraire, mon frere,” he grinned, his eyes flashing merrily from under his cowboy hat. “I’m simply getting ready for Old Man Winter. My heating bills are almost as big as Mick Jagger’s ego and so is my collection of lousy records, so I’ve decided to kill two birds with one stone. I figure if these bummers are going to leave me cold, then the best thing they can do is help me get warm again. The vinyl’s black, you see, so they’ll hold the heat.”

        “Megahertz, you ever hear of insulation?” I asked. “These flimsy little platters aren’t going to do much good when those blizzard winds come whipping up the chill factor.”

        “Don’t be so sure,” he admonished. “They ought to work like shingles, right? And I can use all those leftover cardboard jackets and paper sleeves to kindle up my new wood stove.”

        “OK,” I conceded. “I’m beginning to see a method to your madness. So what are you nailing to the wall?”

        “Losers, nothing but losers,” he laughed, picking one out of the box. “Here’s Allesi’s “Driftin’” on A&M. Unless you’re of a mind that’s susceptible to this kind of runny-nosed romance, it’s nothing by wimpy, simpy hogwash. I’ll stick with Shaun Cassidy. How about handing me a nail?”

        “Here’s one,” I offered. “How about hammering one of my favorite bummers while you’re at it?”

        “Gladly,” he shot back. “Which one?”

        “The most ridiculous disco record of the year,” I proposed. “Silver Blue, on Epic, the one that has the fiddles bumping to ‘The Tennessee Waltz’ and ‘Yellow Rose of Texas.’ The craze has really gone off the deep end on this one.”

        “All right,” Megahertz averred, whacking it into place with four deft strokes of the hammer. “Now why don’t you find me the soundtrack to ‘You Gotta Walk It Like You Talk It (or You’ll Lose That Beat)’ on Visa Records. Just because Becker and Fagan from Steely Dan are on it, they’ve brought it back from the bargain bins. There’s more hamburger in Hamburger Helper than there is Steely Dan on this record. And they’re selling it at full price.”

        “Right on,” I cheered. “What’s next?”

        “Here’s a couple you mentioned last week,” he snorted. “Remember the albums you gave to your friend as a present and your friend decided to trade them in?”

        “Hey, those were good records, you rascal,” I said. “Springsteen and Spyro Gyra – you can’t beat them. And the other ones – Moon Martin’s ‘Shots from a Cold Nightmare’ on Capitol and the Greg Kihn Band’s ‘Next of Kihn’ on Beserkley – they’re dynamite albums, some of the best stuff to come out all year.”

        “Not according to the sales charts,” Megahertz inhaled.

        “Bah, humbug,” I sulked. “The public’s slow to catch on. Martin’s the guy who wrote ‘Cadillac Walk,’ a modern classic, best song on the first Mink DeVille album. He’s got nine of these haunting minor-key masterpieces on here and one tune that tells you where he got his roots – the Beatles’ ‘All I’ve Got to Do.’ And Kihn’s a sensation. I haven’t heard anybody blast out a money song the way he does ‘Cold Hard Cash.’ He’s been simmering in San Francisco for two albums now. This one’s going to boil him through, wait and see.”

        “You win, Anderson,” Megahertz shrugged. “I’ll spare Moon Martin and Greg Kihn. As long as you’re second-guessing, how about you telling me if there’s anything else you’d keep.”

        “Well,” I said, “here’s The Motors’ ‘Approved by the Motors’ on Virgin, the biggest turnabout yet for a supposedly New Wave British group. They aren’t punks anyway. Never were. They’re out of the old pub-rock scene. All the punks are straining to recapture that ‘60s energy and innocence and here these guys do it naturally.”

        “Anything else, Anderson?” Megahertz sneered.

        “Plenty,” I said. “Leon Redbone’s third album, ‘Champagne Charlie’ on Warner Bros. His antique charm never seems to wear out. And then there’s City Boy’s ‘Book Early’ on Mercury, which is their best yet, though it reminds me of a lot of other groups. Like Queen. And what about ‘Craig Fuller and Eric Kaz’ on Columbia, a pair of country-rock singer songwriters who have put it together right. Kaz does a couple of those mournful songs of his that Bonnie Raitt’s picked up and Fuller’s the kind of guy who’ll tide you through until the next Eagles album comes out. A quiet gem, that one.”

        “Look, Anderson,” Megahertz harrumphed, “at this rate I’m going to freeze this winter. No more quiet gems, no more maybes.”

        “That’s the problem,” I said. “There are a lot of halfway worthwhile things that might be worth keeping for curiosity value. Like Shel Silverstein’s ‘Songs and Stories’ on Parachute Records. Silverstein used to do cartoons for Playboy and he wrote weird hits like ‘A Boy Named Sue.’ Not all of his songs and stories work, but he’s good for plenty of laughs. Have you heard the one he tells in ‘The Smoke-Off?’

        “Or what about Willie Alexander and the Boom Boom Band’s ‘Meanwhile … Back in the States’ on MCA? Pure Rolling Stones raunch, that’s what makes stuff like ‘Mass Ave.’ so satisfying, but I still have a love-hate thing about Alexander and his sleazy voice. Still, it’s worth having.

        “If it’s real losers you want,” I continued, “nail something like Dan Fogelberg and Tim Weisberg’s ‘Twin Sons of Different Mothers,’ which is basically Muzak, or Marshall Chapman’s ‘Jaded Virgin,’ which she herself hates, or the Afro-Cuban Band’s ‘Rhythm of Life,’ which is neither Afro nor Cuban, but just another disco exploitation record. That’s the stuff you need for insulation.”

        “Enough, enough,” he erupted. “This isn’t Fine Arts 101, you know. This is survival. I’ve got the rest of the house to cover and that wind’s getting cold. Hand me another one of those things.”

* * * * *

IN THE PHOTO: Cover of Moon Martin’s “Shots from a Cold Nightmare.”

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FOOTNOTE: Was I off base? Certainly not with Springsteen’s “Darkness on the Edge of Town” and Spyro Gyra’s second album, “Morning Dance.” Both were on my 1978 year-end Top 10 as well.

I’ll also stand by Moon Martin and Greg Kihn. Martin was critically acclaimed, but a dud as a solo artist. The popular versions of his best songs were recorded by other singers, like "Bad Case of Loving You," a big hit for Robert Palmer.

It took until 1983 for Greg Kihn to make a mark on the charts, when his song "Jeopardy" went to No.2 in Billboard. It was the inspiration for one of Weird Al Yankovic's best song parodies, "I Lost on Jeopardy." Kihn has gone on to become a popular Bay Area radio deejay and a successful horror novelist. The Greg Kihn Band continues to play, with his son Ry on lead guitar.

As for The Motors, they started breaking up in August 1978. Singer and guitarist Bram Tchaikovsky went on to have a bit of a solo career and did session work in the 1980s with Paul McCartney, among others.

City Boy lasted until 1979 and flopped, too, despite critical approval and studio assistance by AC/DC producer Mutt Lange. "Book Early" was their most successful LP. Original member Steve Broughton Lunt moved to New York City, co-wrote "She Bop" with Cyndi Lauper and, as an A&R man, boosted the careers of Britney Spears, 'NSync, Justin Timberlake and the Backstreet Boys.

Eric Kaz, who once was one of the Blues Magoos, has a long list of songs that were hits for other people, notably Linda Ronstadt's "Love Has No Pride." Craig Fuller, a founder of Pure Prairie League, wrote and sang their biggest number, "Amie." Little Feat took him on as lead singer in the late 1980s because he sounded so much like Lowell George.