The Instant Fan Chronicles, Part 5

"Something Wild," John Hiatt
I knew who John Hiatt was long before he released 1993's Perfectly Good Guitar LP, and had in fact heard him in action throughout Little Village's lone, self-titled album the previous year — but I really only cared about that band because I was a Nick Lowe fan, and was actually rather annoyed by the amount of Hiatt I ended up hearing there. It took A&M sending me a copy of this record to open my eyes, and kickstart a musical journey that ended up becoming one of the most rewarding my listening career. Although I wasn't bowled over by his next couple of releases, Guitar prompted me to look back and dig into the stuff leading up to it — including Bring the Family, which is now one of my all-time favorite records. And it all got started with this song, the opening track on Perfectly Good Guitar.

"I Want to Hug You," John Lee Hooker
Here's another one that pushed its way into my eardrums courtesy of a label's publicity department. As I've written about previously, I was on the mailing list for Virgin's fairly short-lived Point Blank imprint, which led to me reviewing John Lee Hooker's Mr. Lucky, the first album released after his somewhat surprising comeback with 1989's The Healer. I don't know if Lucky deserves to stand among Hooker's most essential LPs, but it's a solid set that makes room for uptempo numbers like this one (and "This Is Hip," which, funnily enough, features the members of the aforementioned Little Village) as well as the sort of lowdown blues heard on this record's cover of "I Cover the Waterfront," which still ranks as my personal definitive version of the song despite the involvement of noted crank/anti-vaxxer/anti-semite Van Morrison.

"Lies," Jonathan Butler
Jonathan Butler was only in his mid-20s when he recorded this song, but he'd already been a professional recording artist for over a decade — the type of seasoning you'd expect might lead to further success after "Lies" was a Top 40 hit. Unfortunately, Butler's time in the spotlight was short-lived, at least here in the States; although he's released a pile of albums since making a splash with 1987's Jonathan Butler, they've mostly gotten attention in his native South Africa. His last bid at a U.S. comeback came via Do You Love Me?, an album recorded for producer Phil Ramone's N2K Encoded Music label in 1997. He's a tremendously talented artist; not really sure what happened here.

"Baby, It's Tonight," Jude Cole
Here's another artist who could sing and play and had that pop-star look, but never quite caught on the way he seemed destined to. By the time he released 1990's A View from 3rd Street, Jude Cole had been kicking around the industry for years — he was part of Moon Martin's backup band, briefly joined the Records, and contributed to a couple of soundtracks (including the title track to Rodney Dangerfield's Back to School) before putting out his self-titled solo debut in 1987. It took him three years to deliver the follow-up, and at first, it looked like the extra effort was worth it — "Baby, It's Tonight" gave him his biggest hit, peaking at No. 16 — but subsequent releases failed to build on that momentum, and by the turn of the century, he was focused on the business side of the music business, managing Lifehouse and starting a partnership with Kiefer Sutherland. He's returned to making his own music in recent years, but it's still hard not to feel a certain sense of missed opportunity.

"Postcard," Jukebox the Ghost
I might have New Music Friday to thank for this one. I can't remember for sure; all I can really tell you is that it's piano-led pop-rock of the highest order. This kind of thing is harder than it probably looks, and the band's willingness to get weird without losing sight of its commercial instincts means there are a fair number of ups and downs across the catalog. This record, though? This record ended up in heavy rotation for me and my kids, and the band is still one of the fairly limited number of acts the whole family can enthusiastically agree on (and/or go see in concert together).

"Love Again for the First Time," Julian Velard
Speaking of fun for the whole family, here's Julian Velard, who I believe came my way courtesy of a publicist in 2011. I was so taken with his Mr. Saturday Night LP that I held a Popdose giveaway for a digital copy of the record, which I paid for out of pocket; before long, Julian had been adopted by multiple members of the Popdose clan — after I interviewed Mr. Velard, distended gym sock Dave Lifton reviewed one of his shows, and our bespectacled associate Mike Duquette has written liner notes for him on more than one occasion. It all goes back to the moment I first listened to this song.

"Not Afraid of the Dark," Kelly Willis
Kelly Willis has always skipped along the line between country and... other stuff, even when she was strapped to the belly of MCA Nashville and being groomed for mainstream country stardom. Case in point: this irresistible torch ballad, which ended up on heavy rotation for me throughout the summer of 1991 after her Bang Bang LP made its way to my mailbox. Mayor Wardlaw and I keep threatening to lure Ms. Willis onto the Record Player; perhaps 2025 is the year we finally make it happen.

"When You Give Your Love to Me," Kevin Gilbert
I could write an entire post about Kevin Gilbert, and the multitudinous ways in which he was destined to become one of my favorites long before I'd even heard his name. I'm not doing that here, but I'll briefly note that he was a Bay Area recording studio legend during the era leading up to my own pathetic excuse for a music career, and he was also involved with the Tuesday Night Music Club when it was more of a soul-nourishing jam session than a backup band for Sheryl Crow. The rest of his story is too sad to get into in this space; suffice it to say that if you have a thing for hooky, hyper-literate pop-rock that hints at what Steely Dan might have been like if Becker and Fagen were born a couple of decades later, you'll want to investigate.

"If I Were You," Lee Feldman
I can't count the number of times I've impulsively purchased a record for whatever reason — album title, cover art, producer, assorted personnel — but I could probably count the number of times that spur-of-the-moment investment has paid sufficient dividends. Lee Feldman, who is a wonderfully unique songwriter as well as a delightful human, is on that short list, and it all goes back to this heartbreakingly poignant number. Permanent Friend of Jefitoblog Jason Hare has been making fun of this song for like 20 years, but don't let that stop you from enjoying it. It's beautiful.

"People in Love," Loudon Wainwright III
For decades upon decades, Loudon Wainwright III has been one of our most reliable dispensers of brilliantly wry and/or cutting observations on the various follies of human nature. I didn't really know about any of this when Virgin sent me ol' Loud's 1992 LP History, which leads off with this rousing middle finger to amorous intent — and I honestly didn't much care for wide swaths of the rest of the record, but the bits I dug, I truly dug. Years later, I was co-hosting an overnight show at a college radio station, and also in the midst of a flat-out war with the PD, when a fellow DJ suggested I play Mr. III's "IWIWAL." This was the spark that finally lit the tinder of my prevailing fondness for the Wainwright oeuvre, but it really all started with "People in Love."