Led Zeppelin without Robert Plant?

Bassist John Paul Jones has confirmed that he, guitarist Jimmy Page, and drummer Jason Bonham, have been "trying out a couple of singers" for a possible reunion tour and album. "There's no point in just finding another Robert," Jones said. "You could get that out of a tribute band, but we don't want to be our own tribute band." Good luck with that. Led Zeppelin without Robert Plant is a little like Parliament/Funkadelic without George Clinton.

Sources told Billboard that the frontrunner for the gig is Myles Kennedy, the lead vocalist of Alter Bridge, which is comprised of the non-singing members of...gulp...Creed. If Plant refuses to join, it very well might end up being Kennedy rocking with Jones, Page, and the son of original drummer John Bonham. Here's to Plant coming to his senses.

(Photo credit: Halfin/AT/Getty)

Today's Tom Toles cartoon

Barack Obama en español!

Mustache | Le Probleme C'est Toi!

   

For the men of Mustache, the last great movement in rock n' roll was grunge. They continue that proud tradition with some modifications on their debut EP Le Probleme C'est Toi! ("You Are The Problem!"), crafting an altogether refreshing outlook on angst. Yes, the dual piston pumps of aggression and melodicism are there, but the cynicism is not. What, you ask, is sincere grunge? No, it isn't the antithesis to Seattle's best export. It's riff-crazy rock n' roll with an uncanny ability to nail down buoyant melodies that don't assault or shock the listener's sensibilities. If some of the melodies sail where the lyrics sink, it's a measure of the band's growth and potential.

"Deep in the Ocean" opens the album with a bit of feedback that bursts into two separate riffs, one hard as bricks, the other a spiral. Lead guitarist Rubén Aybar plays multiple roles in the tune, from joint riffing with bassman Robert Fernández and rhythm guitarist and vocalist Jonathan Schmidt to a slide lead in the fabulous chorus. The various guitar layers are balanced by Rubén's brother, Carlos, on the drum kit, crashing cymbals with chord changes and changing textures with his brother’s licks. If only the lyrics matched the musical makeup. The chorus lyrics (“Deep in the ocean/no one can save you/it’s up to you/to survive”) resemble a survival show voiceover in the Discovery Channel. Schmidt’s vocal histrionics at the song’s end mimic Chris Cornell. And like Matthew Bellamy of Muse channeling Thom Yorke, it’s not a good thing.

The most successful songs of the bunch are and “Connect” and the album-closer, “So Bright.” “Connect” is a lilting ballad that partially suffers from the awkward song title-as-chorus. With hints of Incubus and early Live, the song leaves a lasting impact through Rubén’s stuttering lead and Fernández's spacious playing. Similarly, “So Bright” benefits from being at a slow tempo, which gives the band room to move and breathe, unlike the breakneck, riff-fests of the previous tunes. Schmidt’s voice sounds like his own on this song, too, a deep tenor with restrained emotion. Rubén and Carlos trade syncopated accents in the song’s middle breakdown, before the guitarist lets it fly and creates a synesthetic moment with his trusty slide.

Le Problem C’est Toi! has two phases: pre-“So Bright” and “So Bright.” The song represents the band’s ability to loosen the grip on their influences and take bold, independent steps forward without the use of a rearview mirror. Their next album should thoroughly explore that territory. For now though, with their strong debut EP, Mustache has established themselves as rock n’ roll disciples on a mission to restore order to a genre gone emo on our asses.

John McCain's "new" stump speech

No, that's not John McCain in drag. That's his mother, Roberta. If anybody thought that us here at What Is Groove? wouldn't stoop so low (or take a chance at a hearty laugh), think again. Oh, and here is McCain's new stump speech. Jon Stewart makes an excellent point at noting that the "new" stump speech is actually THE SAME SPEECH McCain delivered at the Republican Convention. Dig the split screen and audio splicing of the current speech with the convention speech. This is why The Daily Show is such an important program, it revels in hypocrisy and exposes truths through hilarity.

Bombass Groove of the Week #3

No podcast this week, but we've got something better. The Dead (sans "Grateful" in honor of Jerry Garcia) played a show on October 13, 2008 at Penn State with the Allman Brothers Band. The lineup included Warren Haynes on lead guitar and Jeff Chimenti on keyboards, complementing Phil Lesh on bass, Bob Weir on rhythm guitar, and Bill Kreutzmann and Mickey Hart on drums, respectively.

The set was basically a greatest hits collection. (See setlist below.) After Barack Obama's prerecorded video speech, which included a hilarious "Touch of Grey" joke, they opened with "Truckin'," which segued into a formulaic "U.S. Blues." The big bust out of the night was "Help on the Way>Slipknot!>Franklin's Tower." The crowd enthusiastically cheered as Lesh dropped his signature opening bass bombs. Initial vocal flub notwithstanding, the performance was spirited and refreshing.  Haynes and the band have a loose rapport, letting the songs lead them down unknown paths, in the hopes of reaching a transcendental moment. See "St. Stephen."

It's a privilege to hear the boys get back together and play for a good cause. Who knows what Jerry would have thought? The Grateful Dead was loath to make political endorsements during their career. Perhaps because there was a possibility of alienating some fans, especially when the point of the band and their music was to unite people in a shared experience. Regardless, here they are, The Dead, live on stage, playing together for a crucial cause. Let's just hope that they reunite for a tour in the near future.

Setlist:

Barack Obama Speech Video 

Truckin'

U.S. Blues

Help on the Way>

Slipknot!>

Franklin's Tower

Playin' in the Band>

Dark Star

St. Stephen>

Unbroken Chain>

The Other One>

Throwing Stones>

Playin' Reprise

crowd

Touch of Grey>

Not Fade Away

Bob Dylan & The Band | "I'm Not There (1956)"

    

[Don't let the slideshow disturb the song. Slap on some ear goggles and let it play.]

As Duke Ellington said about his favorite music and musicians, this song is beyond category. Recorded in 1967 during The Basement Tapes sessions, "I'm Not There (1956)" is to Dylanologists the ultimate Gordian knot or the Borgesian Aleph that, if deciphered, can uncover the secrets to the universe, or perhaps just to Dylan's brain. Both equal in importance. Greil Marcus wrote that "There is nothing like 'I'm Not There'...in the basement recordings, or anywhere else in Bob Dylan's career. It was only recorded once; unlike others of the new basement songs, which Dylan rerecorded or continued to feature on stage thirty years later, it was never sung again."

Other than Dylan's strumming, Rick Danko on bass and Garth Hudson on the organ are the most prominent players. Of Danko, composer Michael Pisaro says:

[He] plays as if he knows that all his life this song has been waiting for him to complete it, and that he will only be given one chance.

(The only legal release of this song is included in the soundtrack to the biopic of the same name released in 2007.)

The "(1956)" is part of the song's title, just as much a mystery as the lines, "And I don't bart-believe/it's all bag for tebusing." Or, more specifically, as Pisaro says:

It's almost as though he has discovered a language or, better, has heard of a language: heard about some of its vocabulary, its grammar and its sounds, and before he can comprehend it, starts using this set of unformed tools to narrate the most important event of his life.

It's not that the lyrics are indecipherable, it's that they aren't meant to be deciphered. Part of the song's enduring appeal is that the listener must surrender to it, to the repetitious chord patterns in the verses and refrains, to the made up words and strange syntax, to everything, including the emotion. Dylan's vocal delivery in "I'm Not There (1956)" is undoubtedly one of the most affecting of his career. His voice is soaked in melancholia, nostalgia, and regret. A threnody with only a shadow of a story. Unlike other Dylan songs from this period, the narrative arch is not so much disrupted as it is fragmentary and paradoxical. There are two characters, and something happens, who knows what, but something happens. And simultaneously, the characters are both present and absent. Physically, emotionally, it doesn't matter. When Dylan sings "I'm not there/I'm gone," it's a cosmic statement.