What is the fascination that we have with seductive avatars of oblivion? Carolyn Jones as Morticia Addams indoctrinated the adolescent me to the possibilities of the Succubus, and became my tween age, gothic sex symbol; the painting by Pre-Raphaeite John Millet: Ophelia (who floats beautifully in the river) hung on my dorm wall for years. Today, Double Trouble features a couple of ice queens who inspire detached sexual delirium, one contemporary, and one long gone, but still as magnetic as when she walked the earth: the enigmatic Lana Del Rey and Andy Warhol’s muse - Nico (nee Christa Paffgen).

LANA DEL REY

When Lana Del Rey sings “We were born to die,” you know she’s not fooling around. Her voice might be studiously without affect, but you can sense some psychic turmoil underneath. And when she purrs, “you like your girls insane,” she is obviously speaking from experience. Her Greta Garbo air of mystery smolders like an ember that could reignite and singe you at any moment.

Of course, LDR is vastly more multi-dimensional as an artist than simply existing as a blank canvas on which to project our emo fantasies. Her later work, such as her fifth album, the widely acclaimed “Norman Fucking Rockwell” has generous reserves of humor, complexity, and intelligence to ponder and appreciate. And, her recent marriage hints at even further explorations of domestic bliss. So maybe our gothic goddess will be embracing life going forward.

NICO

Speaking of blank canvasses on which we can project our fantasies - Nico, the fashion model, turned Chanteuse, was the ultimate receptive surface. She wasn’t even a singer at first, veering off key as she often did, but her voice with its hypnotic, Germanic drone had its undeniable charms. And, Andy Warhol knew the socko glamor that he was wielding when he saddled the Velvet Underground with her, making her their front person. Who knows if the group, as brilliant as they were, would have garnered any attention initially if it wasn't for Warhol’s 1960s answer to Marlene Dietrich.

Nico struggled with heroin addiction and died tragically young in a senseless bicycle accident, but before she left us she created, (with the help of Velvet’s veteran John Cale as producer) some unforgettable mantras. Frozen Warnings is one of the most compelling - It’s harmonium and droning viola conjure the sense of tip-toeing across a frozen lake and feeling the ice cracking under your feet as you try to reach the glaciated siren.

At risk of seeming sexist, it must be noted that the two prodigies of the bass featured here are female, and perhaps that, in some sense, informs their approach to their artistry. Listening to BC by Tal Wilkenfeld, and Esparanza Spalding’s Vague Suspicions, one cannot help but appreciate both the technical precision, and the soulfulness of their musical expression.

The bass rarely takes the lead in an ensemble - they are usually responsible for holding down the bottom with the drums. However, occasionally, the bassist will step forward into the limelight - Charlie Mingus and Jaco Pastorius come to mind - and, this inversion can lead to some amazing revelations.

ESPERANZA SPALDING

I was inspired to read that Esperanza Spalding had been afflicted with Juvenile idiopathic Arthritis as a child. That this was to be the launching pad for a career as master of one of the most physically demanding instruments imaginable - the upright bass -, puts me in awe. (She also plays the violin, guitar, piano and the oboe). Having the ears and instincts of a prodigy, she was given a full scholarship to the Berkelee School of Music, where she was also granted an honorary doctorate and professorship at age 20.

By the way: let’s not neglect to mention her singing, which is miraculous, lifting easily from conversational mode to a soaring airiness, there are unmistakeable echoes of Billie and Ella. Besides all this, she’s on a mission to make jazz more mainstream - attested by the title of the album Radio Music Society, from which this track derives. If anyone can accomplish this feat, it’s this Grammy Award winner.

TAL WILKENFELD

I first became aware of Tal Wilkenfeld when I saw Jeff Beck play A Day in the Life at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremonies. There was Beck, looking relaxed and dashing - delicately maneuvering his whammy bar… and to his left stood what looked like a street urchin with wild ringlets, following his every nuance, note for note, wielding a massive Fender bass, which was as big as she was. It was alchemy. Later, I watched the Live at Ronnie Scott’s video where you could really see the two magicians extended celebration.

She was around 20 at the time, possessed of a preternatural talent, and sidekick to one of the greatest guitarists who ever lived. Since then, the master has left this realm, and the apprentice has stepped forward to become her own front person - living in Nashville, playing with her band, and her calendar is filled with multiple special appearances and collaborations. And, to top it all, she’s jolly. Her sense of humor is obvious, partnering with comedians, Marc Maron, Spinal Tap, and Jeff Ross on their projects.

DT: STRING THEORY / TELEVISION AND KALEIDOSCOPE

The guitar as we know it has had an illustrious evolution, starting its journey in ancient Mesopotamia, then finding its earliest recognizable incarnation 5 centuries ago in Spain, and continuing to move through various cultures until blossoming into its electric manifestation in the modern era. It was the magic wand to the baby boom generation - suddenly, everybody had to have one to express themselves, along with a garage band with whom to practice their 3 chord fantasies.

Then, there were the transcendental wizards who blazed trails of such sonic originality that the instrument’s sound never got boring. Jimi Hendrix and Jeff Beck, to name a couple. Most of them were firmly rooted in the blues form. Today we feature two bands (Television and Kaleidoscope) whose unique recorded output, though small, blew minds with their sublime, far-reaching soundscapes - reaching deeply into themselves, and searching widely for other cultural inspirations to make original music no 60s/70s rocker teens had even heard before.

KALEIDOSCOPE

David Lindley merged his folk cred with Solomon Feldhouse who brought a middle eastern sensibility to the mix, and they struck world-fusion-rock gold. Lindley started off as a banjo picker, but could play anything with strings, and Feldhouse, a Flamenco artist who had grown up in Turkey, was giggling as an accompanist for belly dancers. Theirs was an unlikely, but unimpeachable partnership.

In this cut from their 1967 debut album, Side Trips, the boys take us on a magical mystery tour through the sanctum of the Egyptian Gardens, where Oud riffs twirl madly through the perfumed air, and scantily clad dancers hypnotize us with their charms.

TELEVISION

Punk music was completely democratic. It was said that you didn’t have to have chops to play; all you needed was passion. Not so with Tom Verlaine and Richard Lloyd’s band Television. Their debut album, 1977’s Marquee Moon immediately splintered that myth. The two virtuoso guitarist’s method of meshing their sound together threw down the gauntlet to any aspiring duelists, and their achievement remains unparalleled, and unchallenged.

It was an intellectual approach heretofore unseen in CBGBs, and the other dives of the lower east side. There was a jazz-like, improvisational element at work, and in the record’s eponymous cut, Marquee Moon, you can hear Verlaine and Lloyd spur each other on to increasingly ecstatic heights.

DT: STAYING HYDRATED WITH MARTY ROBBINS AND REV. AL GREEN

H2O - we can’t live without it. As the temperatures rise, physically and spiritually, you better keep plenty of the life giving elixir handy. The human body contains over 50% of the stuff, the earth- about 70 percent. It’s all around; within and without us.

From the book of symbols:

“River is vital fluidity: the rivers move through both the upper world and the lower world, over ground and underground, inside and outside: rivers of fertility and prosperity, rivers of forgetting, rivers of binding oath, rivers of commerce, rivers of blood and rivers of water, rivers of rebirth, rivers of death, rivers of sorrow…”

Two streams of much needed refreshment will be delivered by Marty Robbins and the Rev. Al Green today; dip in and be baptized.

MARTY ROBBINS / COOL WATER

Cool Water had been around for about 20 years when Marty Robbins included the song in his 1959 album Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs, which also featured the hit “El Paso”. It was written by Bob Nolan, founding member of The Sons of the Pioneers, and had been covered many many times. But, nestled here, among the other songs that comprise this formidable concept album, it takes on a mythic resonance. As Marty urges his parched mule, Dan forward through the unending desert, his emotion choked voice cries out for an oasis of redemption.

REVEREND AL GREEN / TAKE ME TO THE RIVER

The Reverend Al Green became fully ordained in 1976, two years after he wrote and recorded this soul classic. In 1974, with the assistance of production wizard Willie Mitchell, he created this toe tapping ode to spirituality and lust. Al must have had an premonition of the rebirth that was about to occur, because’74 was also the year that his peccadillos came home to roost: when he was scalded by hot grits, wielded by suicidal, ex-lover, Mary Woodson.

And, this cut contains both the sacred and the profane in equal measure - not explicitly, but in the hip chugging funk juxtaposed with the call for baptismal relief. Rock n Roll has been called “The Devil’s Music:” Al may have strayed, but has since devoted himself to the gospel of rehabilitation.

ANCHORS AWEIGH!

This episode comes from diary entries written from March to August, 2018 - and, involve labyrinthian efforts to get my nephew into the Navy. My dreams were plentiful and disturbing, but nothing compared to the bureaucratic nightmares that lay before us. Enjoy!

The story of one of the sunniest and funniest personalities to emerge in the world of rock, the Turtles‘ Mark Volman, is being told in a book whose title is a play on the name of his biggest hit, “Happy Together”. However, unlike many memoirs, Volman’s own words comprise less than five percent of the text. Instead, this is a third-person oral history, much like Legs McNeil’s wonderful punk rock history opus from 2016, Please Kill Me.

Mark Volman’s Happy Forever is told almost entirely by 100 of his famous collaborators, rock scenesters, friends, and family, with the occasional sidebar from Mark himself. This six-decade-long narrative includes his rise to fame with the Turtles alongside his singing partner Howard Kaylan, their brilliant stint with Frank Zappa’s the Mothers of Invention, their solo career as Flo & Eddie, and their role as backup singers on mega-hits by Marc Bolan, Bruce Springsteen, Alice Cooper, the Ramones, Steely Dan and more.

Long ago and far away, around 1970, there was a smoldering rage that permeated through every strata of American society. Following a flurry of assassinations in the mid sixties, the Manson murders in ‘69, riots in Detroit, the Motor City in ’67, and in Chicago at the 1968 Democratic Convention, at Kent State in ‘70 with the murder of four protesting students - it seemed that the whole fabric of society was coming apart due to the country being mired in the Viet Nam war and the never ending specter of racism.

Step up to the mic Gil Scott-Heron and the MC5. In “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” Mr. Scott-Heron, in a performance that has earned him the title “The Godfather of Rap” in some quarters - eviscerates those couch potatoes who are watching it all unfold on tv, and that expect things to right themselves between commercial interruptions. And he does it with jazzy flair that made the absurdity of the whole situation crystal clear.. And, then there was the Motor City 5, those scruffy provocateurs whose manager, John Sinclair was jailed for two joints, who fought the good fight the only way they knew how: by “Kicking out the Jams, Motherfucker!”

GIL SCOTT-HERON

Scott-Heron’s combination of spoken word poetry with soul-jazz is a style which has made him influential throughout the decades. So much so that he was inducted as an influence in the Rock and roll Hall of Fame. In “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” he melds the two strains - one melodic, one verbal - together to deliver an unassailable message: there will be no change without intentional activism. It’s word play may be humorous, but it’s deadly serious. Now we have the internet and social media and people are less inclined to believe what they see, or even commit to any action because their attention is being relentlessly consumed. In 1970, despite the horrendous condition of the political scene, Gil Scott-Heron still believed that societal change was possible.

MC5

The same optimism resounds in Kick out the Jams by the MC5. These were kids who saw the wrong headed direction of their government, and tried, by assuming the outlaw stance of revolutionaries, to influence the youth. However, the enterprise was hobbled from the start by drugs, their association with White Panther Party founder, John Sinclair, - and, the radio censorship by their label of their most famous song because of the introduction’s unacceptable word “motherfucker!” They were a great live band of proto-punks, home-town heroes in Detroit, who never achieved the national prominence they deserved. It’s not the lyrics of Kick out the jams that are dangerous - it’s the exuberant energy of the offending word - that, ironically, created history.

A songwriter, itinerant laborer, and union organizer, Joe Hill became famous around the world after a Utah court convicted him of murder. Even before the international campaign to have his conviction reversed, however, Joe Hill was well known in hobo jungles, on picket lines and at workers' rallies as the author of popular labor songs and as an Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) agitator. Thanks in large part to his songs and to his stirring, well-publicized call to his fellow workers on the eve of his execution—"Don't waste time mourning, organize!"—Hill became, and he has remained, the best-known IWW martyr and labor folk hero.

Born Joel Hägglund on Oct. 7, 1879, the future "troubadour of discontent" grew up the fourth of six surviving children in a devoutly religious Lutheran family in Gävle, Sweden, where his father, Olaf, worked as a railroad conductor. Both his parents enjoyed music and often led the family in song. As a young man, Hill composed songs about members of his family, attended concerts at the workers' association hall in Gävle and played piano in a local café.

In 1887, Hill's father died from an occupational injury and the children were forced to quit school to support themselves. The 9-year-old Hill worked in a rope factory and later as a fireman on a steam-powered crane. Stricken with skin and joint tuberculosis in 1900, Hill moved to Stockholm in search of a cure and worked odd jobs while receiving radiation treatment and enduring a series of disfiguring operations on his face and neck. Two years later, Hill's mother, Margareta Katarina Hägglund, died after also undergoing a series of operations to cure a persistent back ailment. With her death, the six surviving Hägglund children sold the family home and ventured out on their own. Four of them settled elsewhere in Sweden, but the future Joe Hill and his younger brother, Paul, booked passage to the United States in 1902.

Little is known of Hill's doings or whereabouts for the next 12 years. He reportedly worked at various odd jobs in New York before striking out for Chicago, where he worked in a machine shop, got fired and was blacklisted for trying to organize a union. The record finds him in Cleveland in 1905, in San Francisco during the April 1906 Great Earthquake and in San Pedro, Calif., in 1910. There he joined the IWW, served for several years as the secretary for the San Pedro local and wrote many of his most famous songs, including "The Preacher and the Slave" and "Casey Jones—A Union Scab." His songs, appearing in the IWW's "Little Red Song Book," addressed the experience of virtually every major IWW group, from immigrant factory workers to homeless migratory workers to railway shopcraft workers.

In 1911, he was in Tijuana, Mexico, part of an army of several hundred wandering hoboes and radicals who sought to overthrow the Mexican dictatorship of Porfirio Diaz, seize Baja California, emancipate the working class and declare industrial freedom. (The invasion lasted six months before internal dissension and a large detachment of better-trained Mexican troops drove the last 100 rebels back across the border.) In 1912, Hill apparently was active in a "Free Speech" coalition of Wobblies, socialists, single taxers, suffragists and AFL members in San Diego that protested a police decision to close the downtown area to street meetings. He also put in an appearance at a railroad construction crew strike in British Columbia, writing several songs before returning to San Pedro, where he lent musical support to a strike of Italian dockworkers.

The San Pedro dockworkers' strike led to Hill's first recorded encounter with the police, who arrested him in June 1913 and held him for 30 days on a charge of vagrancy because, he said later, he was "a little too active to suit the chief of the burg" during the strike.