Summer's Almost Gone

Just in time for Labor Day, too. Fortunately, marinating brisket and drinking beer leave plenty of time for blogging.
Back in the day when I wore skinny neckties and only asked the name of a drug after I took it, one of the hot audio flavors went by the slightly embarassing moniker of "Power Pop". Actually, it was originally merely called Rock and Roll but in the Foghat oriented world of the 1970s and 80s that just wasn't moving the units. So Greg Shaw of Bomp Records, a man who couldn't market ice in the Gobi, got the bright idea of calling it "Power Pop" and thereby finishing off many a promising vocation.... Pezband, The Rubinoos and Big Star, to name just a few off the top of my head.

Of all of these guys, by far the best was a home-grown Tulsa product called the Dwight Twilley Band. Old Twilley, who I have sadly never met, was a songsmith on a level maybe just one step below Brian Wilson and Roy Orbison. Had he not suffered one of the most tragically fucked-up career trajectories in the entire history of Rock, Twilley would be a household name. No kidding. He was that good. So good, in fact, that he occasionally bucked the tide and had a bona-fide hit single in spite of everything. I wonder what a conversation between him and Eric Burdon would be like?

Anyway, don't take my word for his talent. In the spirit of the ebbing season, here he is in the early 1980s reprising his first hit from the summer of 1974. Notice the totally bizarre fretting of the bassist. Also notice the very hot girl singing harmony - that's Susan Cowsill. Yes that Susan Cowsill.