Desert Island Singles: “If She Knew What She Wants” by The Bangles (1986)

Image from cat45.com

“When (The Bangles) first started out as fresh-faced kids back in the mid-’80s, they captured the jangle of The Byrds, the melody of The Left Banke, the attitude of The Shangri-Las, and the rich harmonies of The Mamas and The Papas (without the Papas, of course) and wrapped them all up in a sweet and catchy package.” – Tim Sendra

“One of the two (well-selected) covers on the Bangles’ ‘Different Light’ album, ‘If She Knew What She Wants’ comes from the pen of Jules Shear whose band Jules and the Polar Bears were cult favorites, certainly of the Bangles. A mini-folk-rock gem, the song’s melody recalls some of Gene Clark’s stately work in the early Byrds canon, particularly ‘She Don’t Care About Time.’ The breezy arrangement and the band’s Mamas and Papas-inspired vocal arrangement is the cornerstone here; and overall it succeeds brilliantly, making the song one of the finest moments on the album. Although a seemingly perfect single (it was indeed released as such), the song was dwarfed in terms of commercial success by the somewhat disposable novelty cut, ‘Walk Like an Egyptian.’” – Matthew Greenwald

“You can keep ‘Manic Monday’ and ‘Walk Like An Egyptian,’ and I’ll take Susannah Hoff’s finest hour as a Bangle singing lead on ‘If She Knew What She Wants’ from ‘Different Light.’ The song only reached number 29 on the singles chart, but the video is a pure delight as it features The Bangles doing what they do best: combining harmonies and great musicianship, while looking great in the process.” – Steve Spears

Image from thebangles.org

I was long a fan of Jules Shear since his days with the Polar Bears and later as a solo singer/songwriter. I also was long a fan of The Bangles, ever since I saw this clip from 1984 on “Late Night with David Letterman” and instantly developed a life-threatening crush on drummer Debbi Peterson.

Jump ahead to 1986 and The Bangles’ second album “Different Light.” It spawned a single written by Prince, “Manic Monday,” a novelty song/video, “Walk Like An Egyptian,” and an excellent cover of Big Star’s “September Gurls.” The album is consistently great, but by far the standout song is Jules Shear’s “If She Knew What She Wants.” It kicks off with a soaring guitar riff, and when the band kicks in it’s magnetic. Hoff’s sultry voice is a little more subtle than usual, and the harmonies and musicianship of Debbi Peterson, guitarist Vicki Peterson (her sister), and bassist Michael Steele are stellar. Reminiscent of The Byrds and Big Star, it’s as close to a perfect folk-pop song as I can imagine.

This is the UK version of the video. Nice dance moves by Debbi. The American version, sadly, is god-awful stupid as it features cutaways where, one by one, each of the four women get smoochy with off-camera guys. No idea where they were going with that one.

If she knew what she wants
(He’d be giving it to her)
If she knew what she needs
(He could give her that too)
If she knew what she wants
(But he can’t see through her)
If she knew what she wants
He’d be giving it to her
Giving it to her

But she wants everything
(He can pretend to give her everything)
Or there’s nothing she wants
(She don’t want to sort it out)
He’s crazy for this girl
(But she don’t know what she’s looking for)
If she knew what she wants
He’d be giving it to her
Giving it to her

I’d say her values are corrupted
But she’s open to change
Then one day she’s satisfied
And the next I’ll find her crying
And it’s nothing she can explain

If she knew what she wants
(He’d be giving it to her)
If she knew what she needs
(He could give her that too)
If she knew what she wants
(But he can’t see through her)
If she knew what she wants
He’d be giving it to her
Giving it to her (giving it to her)

Some have a style
That they work hard to refine
So they walk a crooked line
But she won’t understand
Why anyone would have to try
To walk a line when they could fly

No sense thinking I could rehabilitate her
When she’s fine, fine, fine
She’s got so many ideas traveling around in her head
She doesn’t need nothing from mine

If she knew what she wants
(He’d be giving it to her)
If she knew what she needs
(He’d be givin’ it too)
If she knew what she wants
(But he can’t see through her)
If she knew what she wants
He’d be giving it to her
Giving it to her

But she wants everything
(He can pretend to give her everything)
Or there’s nothing she wants
(She don’t want to sort it out)
He’s crazy for this girl
(But she don’t know what she’s looking for)
If she knew what she wants
He’d be giving it to her
Giving it to her

(He’d be giving it to her)
(He could give her that too)
(But he can’t see through her)
Ooooooh, giving it to her
Giving it to her now

Desert Island Discs: “Other Voices, Other Rooms” by Nanci Griffith (1993)

Image from elektra60.com

What strikes one first about the album is the generosity it shows. Griffith is a notable songwriter in her own stead but she uses this album to sing songs written by the best of her peers – Kate Wolf, Townes Van Zandt, Bob Dylan, John Prine, Tom Paxton, Woodie Guthrie, Janis Ian, Gordon Lightfoot, Malvina Reynolds, the 1870s “Are You Tired of Me Darling” which was recorded by the Carter sisters, and “Wimoweh,” which closes the record and includes many of the guest performers from other songs. And that’s the second way in which this album is generous: Bob Dylan plays harmonica on it, Arlo Guthrie sings harmony vocal on Van Zandt’s “Tecumseh Valley,” Iris DeMent sings harmony on one song and John Prine on his own song, Chet Atkins graces two cuts with his exquisite guitar, and Odetta takes the first verse on “Wimoweh,” which comes across as a fitting close to an album of musical celebration. – David Keymer

Nanci Griffith was a teenager in the 60s and thus was introduced to music by her older sister, music of the late 50s-early 60s folk music era. I first got this as a cassette from the Minneapolis library, soon after it was released. I had heard Nanci’s name before but had never heard her music. This made me a fan in short order, and is a go-to album that never fails to make me happy.

Image from amazon

As the reviewer noted above, many of the songs’ writers join Nanci on their own numbers. It’s a virtual folk music all-star team, especially on the last track, “Wimoweh.” I appreciate the historical significance of the song – it features members of the legendary folk group The Weavers, who popularized it in the early 50s – but it’s the only one I skip. (Too much exposure to the bubble-gummy versions by The Tokens and Robert John, I guess.) But that’s a small criticism at best: there’s lots more to appreciate. Here’s a few. Buddy Mondlock’s “Comin’ Down In The Rain”:

Comin’ down in the rain
Washin’ outta the sky
Loaded down with the pain
There just ain’t no way to fly
You can read him as clear
As the wall where he once wrote his name
It was right next to hers
But it’ll only come down in the rain

Dylan’s “Boots Of Spanish Leather,” which he plays harmonica on:

That I might be gone a long long time
And it’s only that I’m askin’,
Is there something I can send you to remember me by,
To make your time more easy passin’?

Oh, how can, how can you ask me again?
It only brings me sorrow.
The same thing I want from you today,
I would want again tomorrow.

I got a letter on a lonesome day,
It was from his ship a-sailin’,
Saying, I don’t know when I’ll be comin’ back again,
It depends on how I’m a-feelin’.

“Are You Tired Of Me Darlin'”:

Are you tired of me, my darlin’?
Did you mean those words you said
That have made me yours forever
Since the day that we were wed?

Tell me, could you live life over?
Would you make it otherwise?
Are you tired of me, my darlin’?
Answer only with your eyes.

John Prine’s “Speed Of The Sound Of Loneliness,” which he plays and sings on:

Well, I got a heart that burns with a fever
And I got a worried and a jealous mind
How can a love that’ll last forever
Get left so far behind?

So what in the world’s come over you
And what in heaven’s name have you done?
You’ve broken the speed of the sound of loneliness
You’re out there running just to be on the run

It’s a mighty mean and a dreadful sorrow
It’s crossed the evil line today
Well, how can you ask about tomorrow
When we ain’t got one word to say?

Nanci recorded a sequel in 1998: “Other Voices, Too (A Trip Back To Bountiful)”. It’s good, naturally, but doesn’t grab me like this one does. This is absolutely a Desert Island Disc.

Desert Island Singles: “Candy Everybody Wants” by 10,000 Maniacs (1992)

Image from 45picturesleeves.com

My life-threatening crush on Natalie Merchant has been well-documented heretofore.

If lust and hate is the candy,
If blood and love tastes so sweet,
then we give ’em what they want.
Hey, hey, give ’em what they want.

So their eyes are growing hazy
‘Cos they wanna turn it on,
So their minds are soft and lazy.
Well, hey, give ’em what they want.

Well… who do you wanna blame?

Desert Island Discs: “In My Tribe” by 10,000 Maniacs (1987)

image from wikimedia.org

Several times over the years I’ve bought an album/tape/CD not because I’d set out to purchase it, but simply on the strength of hearing it played in-store. I should do that more often: a disproportionate number of the ones I’ve bought this way end up among my Desert Island Discs. Why do you suppose that is? I’m at a complete loss to explain it and I’d like to hear a theory on why I’m so suggestible. But with record stores gone the way of the dodo, I may well have had my last such experience of spontaneous happy discovery.

This is one of them: 1987’s “In My Tribe” by 10,000 Maniacs. Heard it in-store at the old Musicland on Hennepin Avenue (I recall I was there looking for a ‘Mats album). I was wowed, floored, and bought the cassette on the spot.

The version I bought has their cover of Cat Stevens’ “Peace Train” at the beginning of Side Two. In the wake of Cat’s Salman Rushdie pronouncements a year or so later, the band insisted Elektra Records scrub the track from future pressings. Subsequently it was included on a compilation disc. I understand their desire not to enrich an extremist, but damn, that’s a great cover.

The rest of the album more than carries its own weight, though. “Like The Weather,” the single release, is as close to a perfect pop song as I’ve heard.

“What’s The Matter Here?” and “Don’t Talk” are peppy songs lamenting child abuse and alcohol abuse, respectively; as I described them to my niece, happy songs about sad topics. “A Campfire Song” features a guest appearance by R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe, lead singer Natalie Merchant’s significant other at the time. And how many top-ten albums reference Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and William S. Burroughs? Plus Giuseppe Verdi? The only song that makes me hit the fast-forward is “Gun Shy,” in which Natalie rips her kid brother a new one for (gasp) joining the Army. Not that I’m a huge fan of the military, but geez, Nat, cut the kid some slack.

If you’ve known me any length of time, you know that I’m in love with Natalie’s voice. She sings the way every girl sounded that I had a crush on in high school (at least, the way they sounded in my fantasies). Music reviewer Robert Christgau once observed that Nat sings like English is not her first language. Naturally he was being snarky about it, but I think he’s right.

It all works, though, because of the exceptional musicianship of the amazingly tight band. Guitarist Robert Buck, keyboardist Dennis Drew, bassist Steve Gustafson, and drummer Jerry Augustyniak.  Drew, Buck, and Augustyniak variously co-wrote most of the songs with Natalie. Guitarist and principal co-songwriter John Lombardo quit the band before this album, and I often wonder how many times he kicked himself later. He ended up re-joining after Nat left, though, so I suspect some bad vibes between the two.

Peter Asher produced this album and the one that followed, “Blind Man’s Zoo.” Did a fine job of it too. Asher was a renowned West Coast producer. In a previous life he was the guy with the glasses in Peter and Gordon back in the ‘60s, and his sister Jane was Paul McCartney’s longtime squeeze pre-Linda. I guess when a Beatle boinks your sister, and writes songs for you to sing, and invites you to hang out at Abbey Road, you absorb mad production skillz by osmosis.

10,000 Maniacs released other albums, including 1992’s “Our Time in Eden” and 1985’s “The Wishing Chair” (which I discovered only recently). Then Natalie left, Rob Buck died, the band regrouped with Lombardo and backing musician Mary Ramsey, and carry on to this day. It’s a close call between “Tribe,” “Eden,” and “Chair,” but I think “In Our Tribe” is their best work overall.

Note however that their best song, “Scorpio Rising,” is on “The Wishing Chair.”

(clips from Youtube)