Hidden in the Santa Ana Mountains below Santiago Peak is a canyon called Silverado. The Spaniards called it Canon de la Madera because of the abundance of timber. The first non-native homesteaders arrived in 1876 to tend bees and grow fruit trees. With the discovery in 1877 of quartz deposits embedded with silver, the canyon became a hotbed of activity, with possibilities of newfound fortune for the hundreds of men who arrived there. Renamed Silverado City, the heart of the canyon turned into a bustling mining town. After the silver bust, peace and quiet returned and Silverado was promoted as a health resort, a place to atake the watersa that flowed from the natural sulfur springs. Attracted by the beauty of the canyon, city dwellers began visiting. Abandoned cabins were turned into small bungalows and used as vacation homes and eventually year-round residences. Through boom and bust, fire and flood, the canyon remains a unique and enchanting part of Orange County.
Archive for the ‘bungalow la’ Category
La Boneyard
From a shallow grave in Griffith Park, to the bucolic streets of West Hollywood into the dark heart of the gang-infested streets of East L.A, evil is pursued in this dark story of passion and redemption. Detective David Eric Laine is no stranger to violence and brutality, but even he is taken aback at the sheer viciousness of the murder of two pregnant Ukrainian women. This is just the beginning of a baffling case which leads from their shallow grave to a bungalow community in West Hollywood, tree-lined and tranquil, on to the heart of the gang-infested streets of East Los Angeles, and points in between. And what of Jairo Hernandez, David’s new, young partner? The attraction between them was immediate and intense and growing by the day. Would this be a threat to David’s settled life?
Released 11/22/68. 2 CD set. Songs: Back In The U.S.S.R., Dear Prudence; Glass Onion; Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da, Wild Honey Pie; The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill; While My Guitar Gently Weeps; Happiness Is A Warm Gun; Martha My Dear; I’m So Tired; Blackbird; Piggies; Rocky Racoon; Don’t Pass Me By; Why Don’t We Do It In The Road; I Will; Julia; Birthday; Yer Blues; Mother Nature’s Son; Everybodayh’s Got Something To Hide Except Me and My Monkey; Sexy Sadie; Helter Skelter; Long, Long, Long, Revolution 1; Honey Pie; Savoy Truffle; Cry Baby Cry; Revolution 9, Goodnight.
This matching songbook to the first album of this double-album masterpiece. Includes 17 classic hits: Back in the U.S.S.R. * Blackbird * The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill * Dear Prudence * Happiness Is a Warm Gun * I m So Tired * Martha My Dear * Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da * Rocky Raccoon * While My Guitar Gently Weeps * Why Don t We Do It in the Road * Wild Honey Pie * more.
Sacred 78′s
More than 70 years after beginning his singing career in 1927 at the age of 18, the venerable calypsonian Rafael de Leon was still roaring, performing shows in Miami and in his native Trinidad. Sacred 78′s is a collection of 25 singles recorded between the early ’30s and late ’60s, when he was at the peak of his powers. The sound quality is a bit dodgy, as you might expect, but it’s surprisingly clear — the better to catch all of the double entendres, political propaganda, social commentary, and romantic chest-pounding that characterizes calypso in general and the Roaring Lion’s singing in particular. “Cheek to Cheek” (which borrows subtly from the melody of the Irving Berlin standard, but is otherwise unrelated) expresses puzzlement over a lady friend’s preference for other ladies when it comes to, um, dancing. In “Weather Man” he criticizes the inaccuracy of weather reporting. “Advantage Mussolini” (one of the least sonically attractive selections) takes Fascism to task. Perhaps more to the point, though, he counsels his friend Melda to wash her hands and clean her nails and faults several other ladies for their ugliness. Delicate it’s not, but this stuff is a lot of fun.
- Rick Anderson, All Music Guide
White Album (Rmst)
Each song on the sprawling double album The Beatles is an entity to itself, as the band touches on anything and everything it can. This makes for a frustratingly scattershot record or a singularly gripping musical experience, depending on your view, but what makes the socalled White Album interesting is its mess. Never before had a rock record been so selfreflective, or so ironic; the Beach Boys sendup “Back in the U.S.S.R.” and the British blooze parody “Yer Blues” are delivered straightfaced, so it’s never clear if these are affectionate tributes or wicked satires. Lennon turns in two of his best ballads with “Dear Prudence” and “Julia”; scours the Abbey Road vaults for the musique concr
Bix Restored, Vol. 3
While the first two volumes in Sunbeam’s excellent Bix Beiderbecke retrospective focused on the great trumpeter’s early sides and solos, showcasing his abilities as a rising soloist, the music on Bix Restored, Vol. 3, with it’s astonishing variety of textures and tempos, reveals Beiderbecke as an artist in full possession of his musical powers, not only as a soloist, but as an influence on the Paul Whiteman Orchestra. This three CD collection of recordings with the Paul Whiteman Orchestra, and a host of side projects, reveals a very different side of Beiderbecke: the restless musician who was so taken with classical music that he sought, wherever he could, to incorporate it into his arrangements — and in his solos — with his orchestra. This may seem heretical to some, but not only does the music confirm it — which could be, after all, just the silly misinterpretation of some overzealous critic not familiar with the elegant swing of ’20s jazz — but so does the testimony of the musicians he worked with: namely Eddie Condon, Pee Wee Russell and Jimmy McPartland.
The greatest evidence for this shows itself almost immediately on “Sea Burial,” from February 29. The arrangement is Debussy-esque in its impressionist texture with a limited color palette and largo tempo. Beiderbecke is the lone soloist, playing whole tones over a backdrop of muted strings, reeds and winds. He is the lone brass instrument on the track, and plays around the ambiguous melody. No; it doesn’t swing.
That doesn’t mean, however, that nothing here does. Quite the opposite. The rest of the session from February 29 and the first few days of March were full of stompers, including two steamin’ versions of “Sugar,” and the wondrously corny “When You’re With Somebody Else,” with hilariously cartoonish vocals by Olive Kline and Lambert Murphy. The point of these tracks, however, is Biederbecke’s influence over the proceedings: getting Whiteman to shade his brass sections and move them, at least temporarily, away from hot jazz or swing and into another dimension. A listen to “A Study In Blue” reveals not only the Debussy-esque influence but also that of Stravinsky and Ravel. As Tommy Satterfield’s piano solo strides through a syncopated rag, the strings swell in counterpoint, playing the middle of the melody with enough elasticity to turn the entire tune on its back. When the winds enter and finally, the brass, the entire thing becomes a gorgeous pastoral paean to the color blue as well as to the emotion.
The rest of disc one alternates between mood pieces and hot jazz before the second disc opens to a full-on-jam with “Somebody Stole My Gal,” a W.C. Handy-ish blues tune with Biederbecke leading his gang along with Izzy Friedman on clarinet. Biederbecke’s solo is as elaborate a solo as he was capable of playing, and Friedman’s clarinet, coming from the world of klezmer, adapted to the Memphis-via-St. Louis blues with aplomb. The rest of the session consists of three takes of the Rodgers and Hart classic, “Thou Swell.” Min Leibrook’s baritone solo in take one is astonishing. In no more than three bars, he packs in so many arpeggios you’d swear it was all a variation on one long note. It’s too bad only these four tracks exist given the hot jazz wind these cats were brewing up.
The rest of disc two and the remainder of disc three are more in line with what the first disc has to offer: intricate and gracefully lush arrangements for the Paul Whiteman Orchestra, and for Frankie Trumbauer and His Orchestra. Adding to the argument that Biederbecke had a strong influence on Whiteman to take his orchestra in a more classically oriented direction — in order to fuse jazz’s hot rhythms and syncopations, as well as its bluesy-party-feel, with the musically sophisticated and articulate syntax of classical music — is the fact that Biederbecke chose Whiteman as the arranger for the April 21-23 dates. At Biederbecke’s bidding, Whiteman hired minor-league classical composer Ferde Grof
Bix Restored, Vol. 3
While the first two volumes in Sunbeam’s excellent Bix Beiderbecke retrospective focused on the great trumpeter’s early sides and solos, showcasing his abilities as a rising soloist, the music on Bix Restored, Vol. 3, with it’s astonishing variety of textures and tempos, reveals Beiderbecke as an artist in full possession of his musical powers, not only as a soloist, but as an influence on the Paul Whiteman Orchestra. This three CD collection of recordings with the Paul Whiteman Orchestra, and a host of side projects, reveals a very different side of Beiderbecke: the restless musician who was so taken with classical music that he sought, wherever he could, to incorporate it into his arrangements — and in his solos — with his orchestra. This may seem heretical to some, but not only does the music confirm it — which could be, after all, just the silly misinterpretation of some overzealous critic not familiar with the elegant swing of ’20s jazz — but so does the testimony of the musicians he worked with: namely Eddie Condon, Pee Wee Russell and Jimmy McPartland.
The greatest evidence for this shows itself almost immediately on “Sea Burial,” from February 29. The arrangement is Debussy-esque in its impressionist texture with a limited color palette and largo tempo. Beiderbecke is the lone soloist, playing whole tones over a backdrop of muted strings, reeds and winds. He is the lone brass instrument on the track, and plays around the ambiguous melody. No; it doesn’t swing.
That doesn’t mean, however, that nothing here does. Quite the opposite. The rest of the session from February 29 and the first few days of March were full of stompers, including two steamin’ versions of “Sugar,” and the wondrously corny “When You’re With Somebody Else,” with hilariously cartoonish vocals by Olive Kline and Lambert Murphy. The point of these tracks, however, is Biederbecke’s influence over the proceedings: getting Whiteman to shade his brass sections and move them, at least temporarily, away from hot jazz or swing and into another dimension. A listen to “A Study In Blue” reveals not only the Debussy-esque influence but also that of Stravinsky and Ravel. As Tommy Satterfield’s piano solo strides through a syncopated rag, the strings swell in counterpoint, playing the middle of the melody with enough elasticity to turn the entire tune on its back. When the winds enter and finally, the brass, the entire thing becomes a gorgeous pastoral paean to the color blue as well as to the emotion.
The rest of disc one alternates between mood pieces and hot jazz before the second disc opens to a full-on-jam with “Somebody Stole My Gal,” a W.C. Handy-ish blues tune with Biederbecke leading his gang along with Izzy Friedman on clarinet. Biederbecke’s solo is as elaborate a solo as he was capable of playing, and Friedman’s clarinet, coming from the world of klezmer, adapted to the Memphis-via-St. Louis blues with aplomb. The rest of the session consists of three takes of the Rodgers and Hart classic, “Thou Swell.” Min Leibrook’s baritone solo in take one is astonishing. In no more than three bars, he packs in so many arpeggios you’d swear it was all a variation on one long note. It’s too bad only these four tracks exist given the hot jazz wind these cats were brewing up.
The rest of disc two and the remainder of disc three are more in line with what the first disc has to offer: intricate and gracefully lush arrangements for the Paul Whiteman Orchestra, and for Frankie Trumbauer and His Orchestra. Adding to the argument that Biederbecke had a strong influence on Whiteman to take his orchestra in a more classically oriented direction — in order to fuse jazz’s hot rhythms and syncopations, as well as its bluesy-party-feel, with the musically sophisticated and articulate syntax of classical music — is the fact that Biederbecke chose Whiteman as the arranger for the April 21-23 dates. At Biederbecke’s bidding, Whiteman hired minor-league classical composer Ferde Grof
Live Phish, Vol. 13
In the spring of 1994, Phish played a show that included Trey Anastasio’s “Gamehendge” suite in its entirety for the first set. For the second set, they performed their then new album, Hoist, from start to finish. For a band that famously changed its set lists every night, this was a rarity. After the show, they playfully boasted that they could not only play their own albums, but they could perform any album ever recorded. An announcement went out in their newsletter, and they began soliciting votes for an album to perform as a “musical costume” for their Halloween performance in Glens Falls, NY. The Beatles’ self-titled 1968 double LP (aka the White Album) won, though they didn’t announce this to the public. So, on Halloween night, the band performed a three-set marathon. The first and last set featured the band’s own material, the middle set a complete two-hour cover of The Beatles, famously ending with drummer Jon Fishman getting naked following the band’s vacuum-enhanced rendition of John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s musique concr
Each song on the sprawling double album The Beatles is an entity to itself, as the band touches on anything and everything they can. This makes for a frustratingly scattershot record or a singularly gripping musical experience, depending on your view, but what makes the White Album interesting is its mess. Never before had a rock record been so self-reflective, or so ironic; the Beach Boys send-up “Back in the USSR” and the British blooze parody “Yer Blues” are delivered straight-faced, so it’s never clear if these are affectionate tributes or wicked satires. Lennon turns in two of his best ballads with “Dear Prudence” and “Julia”; scours the Abbey Road vaults for the musique concrete collage “Revolution 9″; pours on the schmaltz for Ringo’s closing number, “Good Night”; celebrates the Beatles cult with “Glass Onion”; and, with “Cry Baby Cry,” rivals Syd Barrett. McCartney doesn’t reach quite as far, yet his songs are stunning — the music-hall romp “Honey Pie”, the mock country of “Rocky Raccoon”, the ska-inflected “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da” and the proto-metal roar of “Helter Skelter.” Clearly, the Beatles’ two main songwriting forces were no longer on the same page, but neither were George and Ringo. Harrison still had just two songs per LP, but it’s clear from “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” the canned soul of “Savoy Truffle,” the haunting “Long Long Long,” and even the silly “Piggies” that he had developed into a songwriter who deserved wider exposure. And Ringo turns in a delight with his first original, the lumbering country-carnival stomp “Don’t Pass Me By.” None of it sounds like it was meant to share album space together, but somehow The Beatles creates its own style and sound through its mess.
- Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide