Tuesday, December 17, 2013

P.I.M.P. The S.I.M.P. to Pala Tute

"P.I.M.P. The S.I.M.P."  Rick James  Anthology
"Pa Huele"  Eddie Palmieri  Latin Lounge Jazz: Havana
"Pain"  Danger Mouse/Sparklehorse  Dark Night of the Soul
"Pain In My Heart"  Otis Redding  The Complete Stax/Volt Singles 1959-1968
"Paint"  Galactic  Ruckus
"Paint a Vulgar Picture"  The Smiths  Strangeways, Here We Come
"Paint It Black"  The Rolling Stones  Hot Rocks 1964-1971
"Painting the Town Blue"  X  More Fun In The New World
"A Pair of Brown Eyes"  The Pogues  Rum Sodomy & the Lash
"Pala Tute"  Gogol Bordelo  Trans-Continental Hustle

 Johnny Marr, Keith Richard, and Billy Zoom just completely steal all three of their songs from their singers.  This is not unique to these songs.  (To be fair, I don't think anyone has ever tried to claim Exene & John Doe's vocals were the thing that made X great.  Now Moz & Mick, those are different stories).

Today the "Rock Hall" announced their inductees for 2014. From the short list of "finalists" they picked Peter Gabriel, Kiss, Linda Ronstadt, Hall & Oates, Cat Stevens, and Nirvana.  Passed over were (among others) Chic, The Meters, and The Replacements.

I stopped caring about the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame a while ago.  I wish it was longer ago, and I wish it was a more complete disregard, because every year the artists selected, and those overlooked, demonstrate utter stupidity and uselessness of what could be an urgent and useful source of interpretation of a significant pop culture contribution to the latter half of the 20th century and beyond.  Instead, it is a castle to baby boomers' vision of themselves as the greatest generation in history.  Every year, the hall picks artists based on some arcane criteria that remain unpublished and incalculable.   There is no reasonable measure by which Kiss matters.  They were a delusion, a bizarre, inexplicable phenomenon on a par with Loverboy.  Frankie Goes to Hollywood ruled the world briefly - I promise they will never be inducted in that weird, disappointing pyramid.  Hell - literally every artist on the little playlist above is more worthy of inclusion than Kiss or Hall & Oates.  (I recognize that H & O has their gen-x defenders - these are my people, and they are wrong).

It is easy to beat on the Rock Hall because it has taken on, in some ways, an impossible task. It is a museum dedicated to an interactive art.  The purpose of popular music is to engage the audience - the performer is consistently in communication with the audience. Maybe this is the essence of all art, and especially all performing art.  With "rock," though, it is particularly true - the music was (is?), at its source, intended to be heard live, and the mythology of rock has always involved live performance in many of its important moments.  The Moondog Ball, Ed Sullivan's presentations of Elvis and The Beatles, Hendrix at Woodstock, even the tragedies of Altamont & The Who in Cincinnati.  There is, in live music, always the sense of the unknown, the unexpected, the idea that even though you, as the audience, have heard these songs before . . . This time, this show, something different, something amazing, something different will happen, and you will be there for it.  [see - this]  The Grateful Dead became a famous live act based on this suggestion of the unknown, and the Replacements became an infamous one for the same reason.  Yet the Rock Hall is charged with trying to codify, solidify, render known and permanent this fluid, amorphous art.  To name something is in some ways to kill it.  A dictionary for a living language is obsolete the moment it is published.

Even recognizing this natural limitation, the Rock Hall in Cleveland misses the target so badly as to be willfully useless.  In fact, it doesn't seem to fight against this stasis, this pointlessness.  It embraces it.  There is no effort to contextualize, to modernize, to render the place useful in any way whatsoever.  It is not a "museum" in the sense of a learning institute - a place to learn and contextualize the art in either history or a broader culture.  It is a shrine, holding sacred items for a handful of pilgrims who need to come and genuflect before Jerry Garcia's bong and Jim Morrison's codpiece.

The first few times I went, I left feeling frustrated and angry that the museum was not living up to the promise of what I thought it ought to be.  It could be a place dedicated to embracing, pursuing, contextualizing, hell even advancing popular music.  But no - it was just a nightmare shitshow capturing a brief period of the past and doing that poorly.  There is no legitimate live music space in the Rock Hall.  I have seen shows there twice, and they set up folding chairs and a stage in the lobby.  This alone speaks volumes - there is a theater with three giant screens playing clips of the "inductees" - the music of the past.  But there is no space for the music of the present or the future.

I gave up on the Rock Hall when I realized that the problem was me.  If you have ever watched The Beverly Hillbillies or The Addams Family you understand that the central conceit is that other people come into the homes of the Clampetts or the Addamses and they are frustrated, befuddled, and frequently overwhelmed by the experience.  But this is always because those people are bringing in their own expectations to the house.  It isn't the fault of the Clampetts or the Addamses that others don't get them.  It is the same thing with the hall.  Morticia is cutting off her roses. Granny is just cooking her stew.  Jann Wenner is masturbating onto Robert Plant's fringe jacket.  This is their home, and it isn't my place to tell them what they are doing is wrong.

Part of the issue is that the term "rock & roll" itself is vague and undefined - is it a particular style of popular music, guitar-driven, 4/4 time?  Is it a more expansive definition encompassing most forms of electrified popular music?  Something in between?  Apparently it includes shitty quasi-folk music by American white men (James Taylor - inducted 2000).  But it won't include black american artists like Chic, NWA or the Meters.  It also does not include any electronic artist like Can, Kraftwerk, or Giorgio Morodor. Most galling personally is the refusal to acknowledge the music of my own youth.  Nirvana is a step, a necessary one, and a given. The Replacements, Husker Du, Black Flag, X . . . the frustrated rock music of the Reagan 80s (and the concurrent rage in Thatcher's England - Joy Division, Wire . . .) is without representation.  To see Hall & Oates inducted over the 'Mats is just to relive the frustration between the mainstream radio and the music I and my friends were actually listening to at the time.

All that said, I have no use for the Rock Hall as it is. I want it to be more than it is, and it won't be.  It is too narrow, too stationary, too . . . ancient.  We now have over 100 years of recorded sound, and are at least 60 years into the "rock & roll" era. Despite this, the Rock Hall looks only at a very narrow slice of that time (and heaven forbid it expand its vision geographically beyond the US and England - Neil Young and Rush excepted). I want it to be more than it is, and it won't be.  So I am tired of frustrating myself by expecting more from it. In the meantime . . . I like some Peter Gabriel and Cat Stevens.


Monday, October 7, 2013

O'Keefe's Slide to O.P.P

"O'Keefe's Slide"/"An Suisin Ban"/"The Star Above the Garter"/"The Weavers"  The Chieftains
       The Chieftains 4
"O Caminho Do Bem"  Tim Maia
       World Psychedelic Classics 4: The Existential Soul of Tim Maia: Nobody Can Live Forever
"O Kanawailua Lani"  The Pahinui Brothers  The Pahinui Bros.
"O Stella"  PJ Harvey  Dry
"O Superman (For Massenet)"  Laurie Anderson  Big Science
"O Valencia!"  The Decemberists  The Crane Wife
"O, Dana"  Big Star  Third/Sister Lovers
"O.D."  The Last Poets  This Is Madness
"O.N.E."  Yeasayer  Odd Blood
"O.P.P."  Naughty By Nature  Whatever: The '90s Pop and Culture Box

So the Jackson Five's "ABC" is unquestionably one of the great hooks in pop history. A throwaway rap about infidelity is rendered awesome based on clever sampling.

Now, before I am labeled a curmudgeon,I really am not judging and certainly am not arguing that all hip hop or sampling is merely theft. Quite the opposite. I vehemently defend the turntable as a legitimate musical instrument to all comers. The isolation and integration of loops and samples is the great musical contribution of the last 30 years. Sampling has evolved to its own art form - DJ shadow and Girl Talk are both ostensibly sampling artists but what they do both is legitimate independent art and unrelated to the other in any real way. 

That said, you can't listen to naughty by nature and NOT hear the hook from "ABC" - is it homage? Is it theft? Does it matter? ( I assume it might matter to the Jacksons)

So I have been working at my job for a year. I think on the whole it was a good move to leave the court. I don't know that private practice is ultimately where I end my life - the commitment to the dollar is necessary in a way that is sometimes a bit overwhelming. I don't mean that getting paid is wrong. I mean more that chasing dollars from clients is both constant and frustrating. The life of a private practice attorney seems to be one of constant conflict - with opposing counsel, with the court, and even with your own clients. I am not sure I am built for it.

Of course, with all of that said, I just keep doing it.  In fact I am trying to take on more criminal cases, because those folks will be so much more pleasant than the civil clients I have currently been dealing with.  I actually have a new scale for measuring lawyer horribleness.  When I meet a lawyer, I try to picture him as a criminal defense attorney, and then I try to figure out what kind of criminal he would have to represent that would make me want to spend time with the lawyer rather than his client. 

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Na Na Na to Nan

"Na Na Na"  The Knife  Silent Shout
"Nadine"  Chuck Berry  Chuck Berry:  The Anthology
"Naima [alternate take]"  John Coltrane  Giant Steps
"Naked As We Came"  Iron & Wine  Our Endless Numbered Days
"Naked Cousin"  PJ Harvey  The Peel Sessions 1991 - 2004
"Naked Eye"  Luscious Jackson  Whatever: The 90s Pop & Culture Box
"Naked Eye"  The Who  Who's Next [bonus cd track]
"Names" Cat Power  You Are Free
"A Namorada [Afro Latin Edit]"  Carlinhos Brown  The Best Latin Party Album  . . . Ever
"Nan"  Booker T. Jones  Potato Hole

So it has been a long time since I wrote anything.  Not apologizing or harping on it, just saying.

An old set of songs - I think the most recent song on the list is by a 70-year old organist.  The weirdest, most dated thing about the videos is the way everyone in the Luscious Jackson video is just wandering around the airport.  If they made it now, the song would be over before anyone got their shoes back on.

I saw Booker T. with my dad not long ago.  My dad had no idea who he was, but I think he had a good time.  He and I went to see John Lee Hooker when I was about 20, and he bestowed a great collection of blues & rock records on me some time ago (He is most proud of the Chess and Checker singles). He has no reference for Stax/Volt though (or Motown or Fame or much in the way of soul at all . . . ).  So it was nice to introduce him to  someone & something I knew and appreciated and that I thought he would enjoy.  Now this is always a dicey prospect with my father because he is . . . not like other humans.  Most people can find their way through an event that someone else brings them to without feeling threatened or without needing to demonstrate their own superiority.  If they don't like something on its merits, so be it, but I think most folk can find their way to like something even if it is not something they brought to the table.  Not so my father - generally if he is not at the center of it, it is of no value, or at the very least inferior.  But I invited him, and he came.  As I said, he knows and loves Chess blues, so it is clearly the best music ever.  Everything else doesn't really exist.

So we met at this little jazz club in Cleveland and caught the early show.  Booker T. played a wide range of material - from "Green Onions" & "Hip Hug-Her" through things off Potato Hole (the album he made with the Drive-By Truckers) and newer material.  He played guitar on a couple of numbers, and even sang "All Along The Watchtower".  His backing band were all much younger, and his drummer rapped during a few songs.  I had a great time, and I think my dad enjoyed himself as well.  I was worried throughout that he was not enjoying himself, but (except for a brief moment when he was talking with the gentleman at the table behind us about Gestalt psychology . . . another issue) he was engaged and enthusiastic.  

He almost made it, too.  I almost got away through the entire evening just enjoying something someone else had done, without turning it back on himself.  After we left the club, and walked through the parking lot, as he was about to open his car door, he turns to me and says, "He is no Howlin' Wolf."

Here is a video of Booker T singing "Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay" With the DBTs behind him.  Awesome^3.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Macarena to The Madness of Love

"Macarena [Bay Side Boys Mix]"  Los Del Rio  The Best Latin Party Album in the World . . . Ever
"Machine Gun"  Slowdive  Souvlaki
"Machito Forever [Cut Chemist Remix]"  Tito Puente  Brazil Classics: Belaza Tropical Vol. 2
"Madder"  Groove Armada  Lovebox
"Madder Red"  Yeasayer  Odd Blood
"Madeline"  Yo La Tengo  And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out
"Madison Square"  Lettuce  Fly
"The Madison Time"  Ray Bryant Combo  Hairspray [Original Soundtrack - 1988]
"Madness"  Miles Davis  Nefertiti
"The Madness of Love"  Graham Parker  Beat The Retreat: Songs by Richard Thompson

Another cover of which I don't currently own the original.  Which is particularly strange because there was a point in the past where I had practically everything in Richard Thompson's catalog - including this, which was on a cassette-only collection of RT obscurities.  But the grind of time, travel, and a general disrespect for most of my possessions and things go away.  The cassette - Doom and Gloom from the Tomb, Vol. 1, was a fan-club only distribution that the owner of this record store I went to all the time offered up to me in the late-80s because he noticed I kept coming in and buying Richard Thompson and Fairport stuff.  When you are catching up on a 25-year catalogue in a matter of months, I guess.  I regret the loss of a lot of my old music (it feels like I have somehow built-up and lost my music collection several times through my life, and then had to re-create it from memory), but this one in particular stings.  My rule of downloading the original when faced with only having the cover is thwarted - the Doom and Gloom cassette doesn't show up anywhere on the internet.  The version on that tape is a Richard & Linda recording that is not available anywhere else.  There is a live version available as a bonus-track on later reissues of Live, Love, Larf & Loaf by French, Frith, Kaiser, Thompson, so getting that might be as close as I get . . . but the bonus tracks are not available for download.  So I might be getting that whole album - which isn't all bad since it is one that I used to have (pre-bonus tracks) and needs replaced anyway.

For all the music of the 80s I have lost, so much music of the 90s just kind of went past me the first time through.  Shoegaze is becoming something of an infatuation recently, about 20 years too late, but just in time for a new MBV album for the first time in a thousand years.  We may also be reaching a shoegaze revival ("newgaze?") in the nostalgia/influence cycle - see Tamaryn - so maybe I can keep up with this sudden new trend the second time.  I can take solace in the idea that if the radio seems content to have missed most music in the last 40 years, trying to catch up to shit that I missed 15-20 puts me ahead of the curve.

It is a testament to its ubiquity that even my sad self could not miss the Macarena, and '94-'95 was probably as deep into my cave as I ever was.  Having a well-marketed earworm is as good a path to financial security as any I guess.

Saturday, February 9, 2013

L Y F to La Collectionneuse

"L Y F"  Wu Lyf  Go Tell Fire To The Mountain
"L.A. County"  Lyle Lovett  Pontiac
"La Bamba"  Ritchie Valens  The Best of Ritchie Valens
"La Bayamesa"  Buena Vista Social Club  Buena Vista Social Club
"La Belle S'Est Etourdie"  Kate & Anna McGarrigle  The French Record
"La Bikina"  Esquivel  Music from a Sparkling Planet
"La Califfa"  Ennio Morricone  Film Music by Ennio Morricone
"La Camisa Negra"  Juanes  Mi Sangre [studio & live]
"La Camisa Negra (Sonida National Remix)"  Juanes/Sonida National  Mi Sangre
"La Collectionneuse"  Charlotte Gainsbourg  IRM

Once again it has been just about forever between posts.  To the extent it is kind of ludicrous to even try to explain why, or to even suggest that it will get better.  Whatever.  The problems remain the same - the music comes in a little faster than I can keep up and catalog it.  The Wu Lyf album is a prime example - the songs I come across, this one included, are consistently engaging when they float to the top, but then they disappears and gets lost behind the rest of life and other songs and go knows what all, and suddenly it is an album I have had for over a year and have not played in 8 months.

It is kind of true with everything, and maybe it is a part of getting older - you just get busy.  Life gets more demanding as you get older - the job becomes more involved, your daily life becomes more . . . occupied.  The stuff piles on, but the days don't get any longer.  And you just . . . and this really sucks . . . you just aren't as young as you were.  The days actually become shorter because suddenly you have to sleep at night.  Partly because your job is no longer just a job, but a career, and if you don't show up and you get fired there isn't another shitty food-service job that is going to pay you the same amount just around the corner.  There are people and things that depend on you, and you accept that responsibility.  So something has to give, and maybe that something is your ability to go to shows a few nights a week, to just buy and listen to new music on a whim just because you read a review, or heard a clip or just liked the name or needed to get out of the house.  And you certainly don't waste whole weekend days or late nights just trying to catch up on the music you may have missed.  You just don't have time.

Or maybe that is all bullshit.  It hasn't been my job that has gotten in the way of me doing this - other leisure activities - reading, TV, video games, just sitting around doing nothing, all at turns have taken more of my energy and focus over the past year than traversing my music library.
 
Regardless, here we are again.  Since the first of the year, I have been trying to get out to more shows, and see more bands, and am again trying to get a grasp on the music collection. That is going reasonably well. It isn't exactly a resolution, it is just more a feeling of giving myself permission to go out. Sometimes it is easy to fall into a routine of staying at home, or at least being home at a reasonable hour.  And reasonable hours and bar shows do not always go hand-in-hand.  Another part of that is trying again to get a firmer grasp on the music I have (and still keep growing my collection).

I do want to keep discovering new music.  I just hate "CLASSIC ROCK" - not the music itself, I actually really like a lot of that late 60s, early 70s guitar rock that has been pushed down my throat for the entirety of my life.  But the title, and the attitude.  I despise the idea that somehow there is a period of music that is intrinsically better, more important, more pure, than any other, and particularly anything that came later.  I don't think it is an attitude inherent to baby boomers, but because they are the most abundant generation on the planet, they are the most visible, and have been able to control the narrative of music for a long time.

But that isn't really the issue here.  The issue is that I don't want to be that guy - I don't want to be an '80s-'90s guy whose musical taste has calcified around a few bands from Minneapolis and Seattle a thousand years ago.  I really think we are entering a golden age for music - in terms of its availability, its variety, its vibrancy.  I don't want to miss it because I am playing Tim for the millionth time.

It is hard to reconcile, when for years I was among the youngest people at a show, that suddenly I might well be the oldest.  I am trying to embrace that - I stay in the back now (no one wants to see their dad in the pit).  I buy better beer.  I tip well.  I try to buy merch (CDs, not a t-shirt I am never going to wear) because these kids half my age probably could use the cash.

On the other hand . . . I still really like Tim.  There are songs in everyone's life that they know so well that at their mere mention - the title, a lyric - they not only hear it, but have an emotional response.  You have to keep time for those songs.  Just because I know every note to "I Must Not Think Bad Thoughts" doesn't keep me from playing More Fun In The New World every month or so.  I am just trying to find a balance - I don't want to become rigid, but I don't want to be looking for new music just because it is new.
 
Anyway - a  lot of foreign language songs here, given iTunes' inability to strip articles in French or Spanish the way it throws away "the."

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

So . . .

Girls  "Lust For Life"  Album

  A long while ago, maybe 20 years, my old man (father, not male partner) was faced with one of many challenges to his early boomer worldview (class of '60).  As a member of a Unitarian Universalist church in the suburbs of Cleveland, he was faced with a number of his peers, now in their forties, suddenly divorcing their wives and taking up with new partners who just happened to be men.  My dad, being still a bit awesome . . .

  It has been a steady decline in awesomeness for my old man From teenage early-adopter of Chess and Checker Blues and Rock, to mid-life embracer of the white-liberal faith of Unitarian-Universalism to second-divorce visitor of "singles camps" to septuagenarian global-warming denier, he has been on a strangely wrong trajectory . . .

  As I was saying, while still awesome, my old man reflected upon this seemingly more than occasional occurrence of his baby-boomer friends leaving their long-term relationships for a mid-life, same-sex partnership, and he told me, "I guess I get it.  Frankly, at this point, I don't really care who is lying in the bed next to me as long as they leave me the fuck alone."

  Also, on November 6, for the first-through-fourth time ever, same-sex marriage was upheld at the ballot box in Maine, Maryland, Minnesota, and Washington.  And the supreme court justice in Iowa that conservatives were trying to oust because he had upheld marriage equality through the state constitution won reelection.

  And there is this video for this song, which I like not because it is porn (which I guess it is if singing into a penis like it is a microphone is porn), but because everyone in it is young and dumb and full and it doesn't much matter who it is they are rolling around with.  "Maybe if I really tried with all of my heart, then I could make a brand new start in love with you . . ."

  That is the bottom line and why I have never (and really never) given a shit about a person's sexual identity.  It is really hard to find someone you want to be with for more than even a drink, let alone an evening or god forbid a lifetime.  To have someone else telling you that the person you choose is somehow wrong . . . who needs to deal with that.  If there has ever been an even quasi-legitimate reason for nosing into someone else's bedroom beyond a parent's selfish fear they may not get grandkids, I don't see it. Even that is based solely in vengeance, and therefore pretty base.

  It doesn't matter your damage, which comes in all shapes and sizes.  And it doesn't matter your cure, which are equally as varied.  Everyone is looking for the person(s) that make(s) them complete and helps them get through the next few hours, next days, next months, years, decades.  As my old man slides into an ultra-conservative convalescence, I guess we can take heart that the nation as a whole is moving more toward awesome and no one much cares who is lying in bed next to you, even if they don't just leave you the fuck alone.

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Kangaroo to Katalon

"Kangaroo"  Big Star  Third/Sister Lovers
"Kansas City"  Albert King  Born Under A Bad Sign
"The Kansas City Song"  Buck Owens  The Very Best Of Buck Owens, Vol. 1
"Kashmir's Corn"  Victoria Williams  Musings of a Creek Dipper
"Katey vs. Nobby"  Galactic  Ya-Ka-May
"Kathelin Gray"  Ornette Coleman & Pat Metheny  Song X
"Kathy's Song"  Simon & Garfunkel  Sounds of Silence
"Kathy's Waltz"  Dave Brubeck Quartet  Time Out
"Katie's Been Gone"  The Band  The Basement Tapes
"Katolon"  Salif Keita  Moffou

So I have been paralyzed about writing for a while.  Some things have been keeping me busy, but mostly I just get on the site and stare at the screen and feel overwhelmed.  I am going to try to keep the posts [a bit] shorter and [much] more frequent from here on out - it may well mean some posts just kind of suck.  But maybe something is better than nothing at all.  Hopefully some will be Sometimes it can just be the rantings of a madman - that is the essence of the internet, after all.

The Song from this set is without doubt "Katey vs. Nobby" - New Orleans rhythms, P-Funk synthesizer, two Sissy Rap MCs . . . everything about it just beats you up, and it has a verse about Popeye's Chicken . . . wish there was a decent video.  Instead, all you get is ass everywhere.

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Half Marathon Playlist

"Early In The Mornin'"  Johnny Lee Moore & Prisoners  Southern Journey Vol.5: Bad Man Ballads
"Go Outside"  Cults  Cults
"Iko Iko"  The Dixie Cups  Chapel of Love
"All Eyez On Me"  2Pac  All Eyez On Me
"Grown Up"  Danny Brown
"Bhangra Fever"  MIDIval PunditZ  Six Degrees 100
"Boe Money"  Galactic  Ya-Ka-May
"Theme from Black Belt Jones"  Dennis Coffey  Can You Dig It? Music & Politics of Black Action Films
"Higher Ground"  Stevie Wonder  Innervisions
"Get Some"  Lykke Li  Wounded Rhymes
"Racehorse"  Wild Flag  Wild Flag
"Whole Hog" (live)  Sebadoh  Lounge Ax Defense & Relocation CD
"Precious Lord Lead Me On"  Sister Gertrude Morgan/King Britt  King Britt Presents Sister Gertrude Morgan
"Midnight City"  M83  Hurry Up, We're Dreaming
"You Put A Smell On Me"  Matthew Dear  Black City
"Help I'm Alive"  Metric  Fantasies
"Thunder Road"  Bruce Springsteen  Born To Run
"Growing Old Is Getting Old"  Silversun Pickups  Swoon
"Post Acid"  Wavves  King of the Beach
"Georgia"  Yuck  Yuck
"Ladyflash"  The Go! Team  Thunder, Lightning, Strike
"Gentlemen"  The Afghan Whigs  Gentlemen
"Freak Scene"  Dinosaur Jr.  Left of the Dial: Dispatches from the 80s Underground
"Heads Will Roll"  Yeah Yeah Yeahs  It's Blitz!
"Within Your Reach"  The Replacements  Hootenanny
"Big Poppa"  The Notorious B.I.G.  Greatest Hits
"Dead Pontoon"  Toro Y Moi  June 2009
"I See You Baby [Fatboy Slim Remix]"  Groove Armada  Vertigo
"Hott Bizness"  Lyrics Born  Later That Day . . .
"Check The Rhime"  A Tribe Called Quest  The Low End Theory
"Angola Bound"  Aaron Neville  The Very Best of Aaron Neville
"Don't Miss That Train"  Sister Wynona Carr  Dragnet For Jesus
"Hard-Core Troubadour"  Steve Earle  I Feel Alright
"Heroes"  David Bowie  Changesbowie
"Simmer Down"  Bob Marley  Songs of Freedom
"Let The Good Times Roll"  Harry Nilsson  Nilsson Schmilsson
"Whipping Post"  The Allman Brothers Band  At Filmore East


Still not posting enough here - it has been difficult to prioritize this little project the way I would like. Anyway - I just ran a half-marathon with my son (and about 20,000 other people, but really - it was with my son).  Since I figured he would leave me behind, I made a race-day playlist so I would have something to listen to while I ran, and rather than my usual alphabet crawl, I just put that up here.  He did stay with me for the first hour of the race, but then he set off and ultimately finished about 10 minutes ahead of me.  We were both hoping to break two hours - he came close, and I was at about 2:11.

Before I got the boy to run with me, I always described running as my best opportunity to listen to hours of music without interruption (I have been a runner of questionable consistency for about 6 years, when in a fit of turning 40, I ran a marathon).   I leave it to the iTunes shuffle to pick the shorter runs, but if I set out for over an hour, I find iTunes likes to say things like "shorter of breath and one day closer to death" a little too often, so I try to lay out the tracks ahead of time.  It helps me mark pace as well if I know what song should be playing when.

The goal in making a playlist is to put some interesting stuff on here that was basically up-tempo enough that I wouldn't fall into a stupor. While I try to pick songs that are thematic and make me happy to hear, I try not to pick anything to cliched or ridiculously "inspirational."    The obvious exceptions are "Thunder Road" and "Heroes" - which I have put on my long run lists for years.  "Thunder Road" marks my halfway point, and "Heroes" marks where I want to be crossing the finish line.  Yes, totally over-the-top and idiotic to want to run under that clock with "we could be heroes just for one day . . ."  I balance that out with a few cheerful prison songs and a few songs about growing old or dying.  "Simmer Down" and "Let The Good Times Roll" serve double duty as either cool-down diddies or cushion between my target time, and when I would start to feel like I might suck as a runner and a human being - 18 minutes of "Whipping Post" is there for that.

Race as metaphor . . .
This was the second half marathon my son and I have run together.  He has always been more physically capable than me - when he was thirteen he ran a 5K at a sub-8 pace, just by waking up and saying "okay lets go ahead and do this."  The only thing I can give him is guidance.  When we ran the first half, he stayed with me the whole time, and if he needed to slow down or rest, we stopped together.  This time, he stayed with me out of courtesy and affection.  This time though, it was clear to both of us that I was holding him back and at about the halfway point he just took off and left me to my playlist.  He ran off, disappearing into a crowd of  people.   But, after it was all done, he found me and we left together.  I guess that is just how things are going to be now.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

J'Ai Passe Devant Ta Porte to Jailhouse Rock

"J'Ai Passe Devant Ta Porte"  Michael Doucet & Cajun Brew  A New Orleans Visit: Before Katrina
"Jacqueline"  Franz Ferdinand  Franz Ferdinand
"Jacques Lamure"  Of Montreal  The Gay Parade
"Jag Vet en Dejlig Rosa"  Robyn  Body Talk: Pt. 1
"Jaguar"  John Gregory  The Sound Gallery, Vol. 1
"Jah Live"  Bob Marley  Songs of Freedom
"Jail Guitar Doors"  The Clash  The Clash
"Jailhouse Rock"  Dean Carter  Instant Garage [Mojo]
"Jailhouse Rock"  Elvis Presley  The Complete '68 Comeback Special [x2]
"Jailhouse Rock"  Elvis Presley  Elvis 75


MCA died.  Junior Seau did too.  I am pretty upset about them both.  Mostly for selfish, self-absorbed reasons though.  Junior Seau killed himself at age 43, after a long, successful career in the NFL, and he is not the first to do so (or even the first recently).  Given the increased awareness of head injury and the long-term impact of the game on the people who play it, I am wrestling with whether a sport I have been an avid fan of my entire life is actively killing people.  I am also concerned that if that is not the point, there has been very little concern for whether it is the case.  Professional football is a spectator sport - it doesn't exist without people watching it.  The point of it  is so that people will spend their money in order to witness it. Stadiums seating nearly 100,000 people and billion-dollar television contracts attest to this.  So the violence, the speed of the game, the crushing blows, are at some level because I want it (not me alone, but y'know . . . this is  my navel-gazing so just accept some melodrama).  I can say that I did not know, and that is both fine and true.  The issue is now I do know.  So do I stop watching, do I insist it be fixed, or do I merely live with my own hypocrisy.  (as I sit here today, my money is on the latter).  I honestly live in fear that I will see a young man killed one Sunday afternoon, and I know that is the last time I will watch football on any level.  I also feel like that will be too late.

Adam Yauch died of cancer at 47.  This makes me feel old.  (I am not alone - a lot of my peers commented on the death that a part of their youth or adolescence died with him).  I have now reached the point where my peers are dying of natural causes.  No longer restricted to violence or drugs, now we face the everyday presence of death by just no longer living.  This is the territory of Baby Boomers and Classic Rockers.  I am not ready for an extended future of maintenance prescriptions and annual check-ups.  My least favorite phrase, which I started hearing at the doctor's office a couple of years ago, has to be, "It is a natural part of the aging process."  So now I not only hear it in my creaking bones, or from the doctor when he mentions the disappearing cartilage in some joint or another - now I am reminded of it as the rock stars of my youth shuffle off this mortal coil like Frank Zappa (just shy of age 53, but somehow suddenly almost 20 years gone . . . that went by fast too).

Friday, April 13, 2012

I'd Be A Yellow Feathered Loon to I'll Be Your Mirror

"I'd Be A Yellow Feathered Loon"  Of Montreal  The Gay Parade
"I'll Be Forever Loving You"  The El Dorados  Vee-Jay: The Definitive Collection
"I'll Be Good To You"  The Brothers Johnson  Ultimate Disco 30th Anniversary Collection
"I'll Be Home For Christmas"  Diane Schuur  Christmas for Lovers
"I'll Be Home For Christmas (Garry Hughes Remix)"  Joe Williams  Christmas Chill
"I'll Be Loving You"  King Khan & BBQ Show  Invisible Girl
"I'll Be Loving You (Forever)"  New Kids On The Block  Like Omigod! The 80's Pop Culture Box
"I'll Be There"  The Jackson 5  Hitsville USA, Vol. 1: The Motown Singles Collection 1959-1971
"I'll Be There For You" (the theme from "Friends")  The Rembrandts  Whatever: The 90's Pop and Culture Box
"I'll Be Your Mirror"  The Velvet Underground & Nico  The Velvet Underground & Nico

Charles and I have an ongoing debate about the music collection - we get new music, and I immediately rip it to the computer and into the iTunes library (the iTunes decision is a rough one which I will pick up later, but sticking to the point).  At this point almost all of our listening opportunities are hard-drive based.  Neither of our cars have mp3 players or even ports to connect them, so that is the exception and even that will probably change in the next few years as the cars wear down and need replaced.  So, we inevitably have a . . . I don't know what exactly.  It isn't an argument - neither of us care about it that much.  While I used the word debate it isn't even that thorough.  Let's call it a periodic recognition of a basic philosophical difference.  Charles firmly believes that just because we have obtained something, there is no obligation to keep it forever.  If you don't like it, why are you letting it take up space indefinitely.  I, on the other hand, argue that there is no point in deleting songs - they take up very little space and there is always the possibility you might one day want them.

This is not a new, digital, aspect of our personalities.   While Charles forces herself to regularly clear away some things she is not using, I tend to keep everything.  Books, records, clothes . . . I have a box of old board and role-playing games in the garage that I literally have not opened in over 20 years, but I don't get rid of it.  Since I find it difficult to part with things that take up actual space, getting rid of 1's and 0's is next to impossible.  Part of this is a completist tendency - if I am interested in something, I want to have everything related to it.  I am that Who fan who bought Scoop and tried to justify Chinese Eyes.  I owned every Talking Heads album including Naked, and tracked down albums by The Bunch and The Golden Palominos just because Richard Thompson played on them.  This has tempered somewhat as I have gotten older - I didn't run out to buy Magic just because I like Born to Run.  (although 4 Paul Simon albums appeared in one afternoon, but I can justify that I swear).

The other piece is that it all marks time - when you listen to music, wear certain clothes, read a book, that is what you are doing at that moment.  When you hear that song, pick up that book, or wear those clothes, you are returned to that moment in some small way.  I have trouble giving that up.  And music is certainly the most likely opportunity to revisit that moment.  Even though I think I will, I almost never re-read that book, and I admit that even I would be appalled to put on some of the clothes (although some might argue not appalled enough or often enough), songs last.  I revisit albums and songs much more often - my sons know all the words to Bettie Serveert's first album even though they have never heard it anywhere other than in my car . . . for the past 15 years.  It is not an act of pure nostalgia, either.  Every time you listen to a song, you are not only hearing it again, but you are hearing it for the first time.  As you grow older and your life changes, your interaction with that song changes.  Sometimes this change makes the song irrelevant - sometimes listening to the Who I cringe at how overwrought the lyrics are and at how much I used to care about them.  Other songs remain relevant because they reach back to that place in your past - the Replacements' "Left of The Dial" has become a dead metaphor at this point, but it puts me back in my twenties when that phrase meant a certain thing about who you were and what you did.  Still others change and remain relevant in a wholly current way - "Little Wing" is a timeless work of beauty that leaves me awestruck every time I hear it. It was made at a particular time, but it is not of a time.  (this may be a different point).  Because I can always go back to so much music, I am loathe to get rid of any of it.  Just because I have not listened to it in a very long time, does not mean I will never listen to it again.

Of course, my arguments are invalid when I come across "I'll Be Loving You (Forever)" and the theme to "Friends."  Once again, Rhino's need to preserve the missteps of our cultural past goes far beyond anything I could conceive and the whole company sometimes seems like it should be on an episode of "Hoarders."  The good and the bad of this are ever-present on their website - for every complete Smiths reissue (re-mastered by Johnny Marr, so I assume he just mixed Moz so far behind the guitars he can barely be heard, which would be fine with me), there is a live set from Twisted Sister or Iron Butterfly.  I never wanted to hear New Kids On The Block in the first place, I can't think of a time when I would want to play this song again (I liked Donnie in Band of Brothers though).  The Rembrandts (who apparently were an actual band, not just a creation for this song) made a throwaway piece of jangle-pop that became the aural signature for a cultural phenomenon.  That doesn't make it less of a throwaway song or a moment in time I am going to want to go back to.  These are songs I can all but guarantee I am never going to listen to again, and that I will probably skip through if they come up on the shuffle.

I still didn't delete them, though.

A couple other quick thoughts:

  • Sound like the Brothers' Johnson cribbed their chorus from Bill Withers' "Lovely Day."
  • It is a toss-up for favorite song in this set between King Khan and Nico.
  • Check out the back half of the Jackson's video, in which Diana Ross and Michael literally wrestle each other for center stage.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Half as Much to Halleluhwah

"Half As Much"  Patsy Cline  The Legendary Patsy Cline
"Half Asleep (alternate version)"  School of Seven Bells  Dream Pop [Mojo]
"Half Forgotten Daydreams"  John Cameron  The Sound Gallery, Vol. 1
"Half Jack"  The Dresden Dolls  Dresden Dolls
"Half Light I"  Arcade Fire  The Suburbs
"Half Light II (No Celebration)"  Arcade Fire  The Suburbs
"Half of You"  Cat Power  You Are Free
"Halfway Home"  TV On The Radio  Dear Science
"Halfway to Heaven"  Candi Staton  The Best of Candi Staton
"Halleluhwah"  Can  The Roots of the Sex Pistols [Mojo]

I am trying to get back to a more regular posting routine.  I worry too much about what I am going to say (especially in light of what the final product ultimately turns out to be).  It is also seems that doing this is a learned skill, not just the writing, which improves with practice, but the mechanical acts involved in this - budgeting the time to listen to the songs, scanning youtube/vimeo/megacafe for video links, reading about the various artists - it all takes time that requires accommodation.  Moving around my established pattern of not doing much at all has proven more difficult than one would expect.  Just as I think I am getting back into a routine of blogging here, I discover it has been 10 days since my last post . . . ugh.

There was a period, just after I got Dear Science when, every time it would come on, regardless of what song it was, my older son would ask, "who is this?"  That question is always the first clue that he is enjoying the song.  It is always kind of satisfying when I can get his attention enough, and overcome his inherent (and completely accurate) belief that he is cooler than me, that he wants to know more about something I am listening to.  (of course in this case that satisfaction is completely stolen, since Charles got me Dear Science as a Christmas present - that, For Emma, and Hercules & Love Affair - it was a good holiday).

That was my experience for most of these 10 songs.  I found myself saying "Who is this? Oh, I need to listen to more of this . . ."  Which probably means Mojo is doing its job - the tracks from School of Seven Bells and Can are intriguing and I will be pursuing more music from both groups.  Although I do not expect Charles to be tolerating 18-minute Krautrock workouts all that often.

I am fascinated that Can just pulled Damo Suzuki literally off the street one day, and he was their lead singer in concert that evening.  This does not happen in my current profession - no one is coming by my office saying, "you know, I really like your style . . . we have this case going on at the court of appeals next week, why don't you come brief for us?  Swing by the office, we'll research together."

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Gabriel Intro to Garageland

"Gabriel Intro"  Tim Barry  28th & Stonewall
"The Game Gets Old"  Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings  I Learned The Hard Way
"Game Is My Middle Name"  Betty Davis  Betty Davis
"Games Without Frontiers"  Peter Gabriel  Peter Gabriel (melting face)
"Ganges Delta Blues"  Ry Cooder & V.M. Bhatt  A Meeting By The River
"Gangsta Sh*t"  Outkast  Stankonia
"Gangster Of Love"  Jimmy Norman  What It Is! Funky Soul and Rare Grooves
"Gangsters"  Neville Staple  The Dawning of a New Era [Mojo disc]
"Gannet"  Tommy Smith  Beasts of Scotland
"Garageland"  The Clash  The Clash

Whitney died this past weekend. This has absolutely no impact on me except as another aspect of my continual aging.  As with the Super Bowl, now the performers of my youth are dying and it is not heartrendingly tragic, but pathetically predictable.  Do not get me wrong.  At 48, she was too young to die.  She was ubiquitous in my youth, and it is sad that she was destroyed by drugs and it is sad that she is dead.  But it is sad Joe Strummer died at 50. It is sad that Jerry died (53), and it is sad that Zappa died (52), and it is sad that George Harrison (58) and John Entwistle (57) died too.  At this point, Whitney (and I) was much  closer to those guys than to Kurt or Jimi.  Like those other artists, Whitney had ceased to be a contributing artist (at least in the genre they had become famous or with the intensity of their youth), and was largely a dominant personality from her audience's past.

Charles and I were having this discussion the other day.  By any reasonable measure, it is horrible that Kurt died as young as he did.  But by dying young, his legend is forever intact.   If Whitney had died 20 years ago, there would be no "Being Bobby Brown."  If Michael had died after Bad, there would be no plastic surgery, no implications, no trial, and he would be remembered without adulteration for an immortal album bracketed by two great ones.  (which, frankly is how I think of Bob Stinson - Hootenany, Let It Be, Tim - as great a three album run as any - and yes, the Replacements are great because of Bob . . . but I digress.)  Charles disagrees.  Her exact words: "Kurt should be here getting fat and old with the rest of us."

Of course, maybe the legend is all that survives anyway.  If Michael & Whitney are remembered at all, it will be because of the music, not because of what happened to them in their forties. People already want to forget and forgive.  Whitney's songs have spiked to number one on iTunes since her death, and that can't all just be nostalgic 40 year olds.  The same thing happened to Michael.

Some thoughts from the set:

  • After Joe became a millionaire off his songs of class warfare, did he still sit in his garage with his bullshit detector?
  • The video for "Gangsters" is just joyous.  Everyone in that bar knows every single word.  Neville Staple can (and does) just stop singing and let the audience keep it going for him.
  • While there was an official video for "Games Without Frontiers" the link above is so much greater - it addresses the question "What the hell are Segways good for?" with the ridiculous answer, "They let aging prog-rockers roll around on stage, complete with dramatic synchronized lurching!"
  • That melting face album was seminal.  The hollow percussion in the songs was distinctive and I was exactly the right age for the politics of "Biko" & "Games Without Frontiers." I still think (with no substantial basis whatsoever) that without this album, Paul Simon never makes Graceland (you can decide for yourself whether to call that credit or blame).
  • It may be that you are sometimes just swayed by what you encounter first.  Charles is much more partial to the waxed car album.  We have the same discussion over X (me - More Fun, her - Big Black Sun).

Thursday, February 9, 2012

F***ing In Rhythm & Sorrow to Fairchild

"F***ing In Rhythm & Sorrow"  The Sugarcubes  Life's Too Good
"Facing East"  Thievery Corporation  The Richest Man In Babylon
"Faculty of Fears"  Lightspeed Champion  Life Is Sweet! Nice To Meet You
"Fade Away and Radiate"  Blondie  Parallel Lines
"Fade Together"  Franz Ferdinand  You Could Have It So Much Better
"Faded Love"  Patsy Cline  The Legendary Patsy Cline
"Fader Rules"  Superchunk  Lounge Ax Defense & Relocation Compact Disc
"Failures"  Joy Division  Substance
"Fainting Spells"  Crystal Castles  Crystal Castles (II)
"Fairchild"  Porter Wagoner  Rubber Room: The Haunting Poetic Songs of Porter Wagoner 1966-1977


So the Super Bowl happened this past weekend.  Last year, Christina fucked up the national anthem and I spent some time discussing the performers for that song at super bowls through the ages.  My comments about the halftime show extended to "I don't know if they have ever gotten it right."  This still holds, but at least this year was largely innocuous, which might be the best you can hope for.  (Well, what I was really hoping for was for Madonna to come out in a Denver Broncos jersey and sing "Like A Virgin" before going into a Tim Tebow kneel, because that would have been awesome and offensive in a way that the FCC could not fine her for.  Instead, we got M.I.A. being offensive in a way she will get fined for, and I have to admit it probably was the best part of the bland new song she was helping Madge get through.  On the up-side this was not the nightmare shit-show that the Black-Eyed Peas gave us (It was Up With Electronic People and Will.I.Am stole Gary Oldman's hair from the Fifth Element).

I admit to being stressed that the artists of my teens are now playing the super bowl - we have moved past Stevie Wonder and the Rolling Stones and now it is Madonna and Prince.  The Sugarcubes had a reunion tour, and Disney briefly tried selling a Joy Division t-shirt - that is how hold I am now.

There is a lot of hate for Thievery Corporation among internet wonks - "inoffensive" and "bland" are tossed about.  I think that is what I like about them.  Sometimes I want to be able to put something on that is just there and doesn't stomp on my ability to talk/drink/dance with my friends.  It is sort of the opposite of Boxcutter - music I like that I can never seem to find a time to play.  I can usually find a place for this music, but largely because I don't have to concentrate on it.  I actually do mean all of that in a good way.

Friday, February 3, 2012

E.T. (Extraterrestrial) to East St. Louis Toodle-Oo

"E.T. (Extraterrestrial)"  Outkast  ATLiens
"Early In The Morning"  The Bottle Rockets  Bottle Rockets
"Early In The Morning"  Harry Nilsson  Nilsson Schmilsson
"Early To Bed"  Morphine  Like Swimming
"The Earthmen"  Paddy Kingsland  The Sound Gallery Vol. 1
"Earthquake"  Deerhunter  Halcyon Digest
"Ease Jimi"  Nightmares On Wax  Carboot Soul
"Easin' In (From Hell Up To Harlem)"  Edwin Starr  Can You Dig It?  Music and Politics of Black Action Films: 1968-1975
"East of Eden"  Lone Justice  Lone Justice
"East St. Louis Toodle-Oo"  Duke Ellington  Rhapsodies In Black: Music and Words From The Harlem Renaissance

I love that Maria McKee was a raging maniac who sabotaged any hope the huge main-stream career her voice offered her by having a tendency, as a younger woman, to bark like a seal onstage.

It has been a while since I posted last, and in that time Etta James, Johnny Otis, and Don Cornelius have all died.  What I know about Johnny Otis is just what I have learned in the past few weeks - he discovered Etta James (in fact was the person who chose that stage name for her).  He co-wrote and produced, "Roll With Me, Henry" which is one of my favorite Etta James songs.  He wrote "Hound Dog" for Big Mama Thornton, and seems like the kind of person who should get more credit than he did.  Also - "Willie & The Hand Jive" (The ladies in the front are Marie Adams & The Three Tons of Joy, and there is a little Lionel Hampton at the end.)

So I have mentioned my dad's record collection, and in particular his number of early Chess/Checker recordings.  A few years back, when Cadillac Records came out, he saw the movie, bought the soundtrack, and roundly criticized everyone's performance in the movie as not being as good as the original (my dad's full response to this movie was more nuanced than mere criticism - it validated his musical taste, and launched him into a fit of self-aggrandizement where he believed he was one of the few white people in the world to appreciate Little Walter).  Except for Beyonce, who did a great job as Etta James in his opinion.  The reason for this is that my father had no historical reference for Etta James.  While he could tell himself that he understood Howlin' Wolf & Muddy Waters (and especially Chuck Berry - I am probably going to start praising Mos Def's performance just to see how agitated he will get), as a woman, Etta James has no place in my dad's musical world. He could not claim credit for her, so there was no reason to criticize Beyonce's portrayal.  In fact, since the movie introduced her to my dad, I expect his understanding of Etta James is roughly "she looks and sounds just like Beyonce (whoever she is)."

My first knowledge of Don Cornelius was as one of the two men who would tell us that Saturday cartoons were over (Dick Clark was the other).  I liked Soul Train better than Bandstand because it had an animated train at the beginning - I could believe cartoons were continuing for just that much longer.  This kind of sucks now - the music on that show has become an integral part of my music library, and it would be nice to be able to say that my 6-year old self was that aware of it all, but I can't claim there was even a passing knowledge of the show beyond its opening and the deep-voiced host whose appearance meant it was time to find something else to do.  A quick romp through you-tube demonstrates what Don Cornelius gave the world.  Soul Train provided an alternate platform for artists that most folks were ignoring (not just kids looking for the Mystery Machine).  Given the chance I would go back and make my child-self watch these shows for the James Brown appearances alone (See here when JB tells Don he is quitting music to tour HBCUs and figure out how to make them better).  Peace, Love, and Soul.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

D. Ray White to Daddy's Home

"D. Ray White"  Hank Williams III  Straight To Hell
"Da Doo Ron Ron"  The Crystals  Back To Mono (1958-1969)
"Da Feelin"  Nightmares On Wax  Thought So . . .
"Da Funk/Daftendirekt"  Daft Punk  Alive 2007
"Da Mystery of Chessboxin'"  Wu-Tang Clan  Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)
"Dadaist Rhetoric in Boston"  The Mekons  New York: On The Road 1986-1987
"Daddy's Cup"  Drive-By Truckers  The Dirty South
"Daddy's Gone"  Danger Mouse & Sparklehorse  Dark Night of the Soul
"Daddy's Home"  The Jackson 5  The Ultimate Collection
"Daddy's Home"  Toots & The Maytals  Funky Kingston/In The Dark

Happy New Year!  So I fell well short of my goal of getting through the alphabet somewhere between 4-6 times.  Instead of 4 posts a week, I have been lucky to do one after the broken arm sapped most of my will to do anything at all  On the other hand, I didn't abandon this completely (which is better than some other things - I haven't been running or exercising and am rapidly turning into so much pudding - I guess we can see what cliched resolutions I will be making this year).  We will see how it plays out in 2012; right now I am feeling good about it, but that might just be some resolution fever as well.

In retrospect, I think this has been an exercise with more good than bad.  I haven't really got as good a grip on the music library as I would hope, nor have I become a particularly great or disciplined writer.  But last night I was making a playlist for our new year's party and came across "Fuck Hodges," from way back in January and was able to throw it into the mix, so I at least found one song.

Maybe I read too much into it that Hank III would choose to sing about a deceased patriarch of a musical clan who occasionally run afoul of the law.

The Jackson's version of "Daddy's Home" is not sung by Michael but by Jermaine.  The Toots version bears little resemblance to the others - he plays pretty fast & loose with the lyrics.

I feel like I should be writing more, but mostly I want to get this post up since it is now past MLK Day without a post in 2012.  Maybe the E's will include a SOPA rant!

Saturday, December 24, 2011

The Cactus Where Your Heart Should Be to Calambre

"The Cactus Where Your Heart Should Be"  Magnetic Fields  69 Love Songs
"Cada Beijo"  Bebel Gilberto  Bebel Gilberto
"Cade Voce?"  Bebel Gilberto  Momento
"Cadence To Arms"  Dropkick Murphys  Do or Die (2 versions)
"Cajun Moon"  Herbie Mann  What It Is! Funky Soul and Rare Grooves
"Cajun Song"  Gin Blossoms  New Miserable Experience
"Cajun Woman"  Fairport Convention  Unhalfbricking
"Cake Walking Babies from Home"  Clarence Williams' Blue Five  Rhapsodies In Black: Music and Words From the Harlem Renaissance
"Cala Boca, Menino"  Seu Jorge and Almaz  Seu Jorge and Almaz
"Calambre"  Astor Piazzola/John Arnold  Astor Piazzola Remixed


Today is my older son's eighteenth birthday.  When I was little older than he is now, Charles and I were working in western Massachusetts, and we had gone into Boston to meet my Aunt (who had flown in for a conference there).  I remember playing Unhalfbricking repeatedly on the drive back.  It is more than a little amazing to me that I am that same person.  When I was 18, 20, 25 . . . really right up until the day I found out I was going to be a father, I never conceived of being a dad.  Mostly because I never conceived of actually being anything.  I drifted in and out of college, taking classes, and as often as not failing them simply because I stopped going.  I went from crappy job to crappy  job, making enough money to pay the rent.  Due to the kindness of my friends and family, which I didn't deserve and seldom repaid, I got by, and this was enough.  It isn't that I didn't know what I wanted to do, I just really didn't want to do anything at all.

When I found out I was going to be a dad, everything changed.  I don't mean it changed overnight.  In many ways I am still just a slacker underachiever who needs to exert the utmost energy just to try to write a few hundred words here, and this is something I want to do.  But I did make an effort, and have continued to make the effort, to try to live my life more consciously and to work toward a goal.  That goal was at first, and remains, to care for my son.  In these eighteen years, that goal has grown to include my second son, Charles, and myself. Once this new person was coming, for whom I felt wholly responsible, it became clear that my life needed to matter.  I needed to be able to account to him, and eventually them, for all of my choices.

I am not trying to co-opt my son's birthday and majority.  He certainly stands well in his own right.  I am proud to have him not only as my son, but as one of my best friends.  I have spoken to him almost every day for the last eighteen years, even when we have been apart.  Every one of those conversations has been a joy.  I have often joked that it is my job to keep him alive until, well, today.  The reality is that most of the responsibility ended long ago, and now I talk to him because it is a pleasure all my own.  Of course I still try to inflict wisdom on him, and I will help when he needs it.  However, he is a young man who is clever and funny in his own right, and I look forward to sharing in his day much more than I try to shelter him from harm. I have tried over the years to share my values without imposing my views, to keep him safe, and allow him to grow. I am simply saying that when it comes time to say thank you, whatever I have given him, I owe him this: I was an ass before he and his brother came along, I like to think I am less so now.

I have the Dropkick Murphys because when my computer recently died I took over his, and inherited a bunch of his music as a result.

I have Bebel and Astor Piazzola because of Charles - she is the person most responsible for keeping me moving forward and helping me realize the goals I finally did come to have.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You to Baby Birch

"Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You"  Joan Baez  Roots of Led Zeppelin (Mojo)
"Babopbyeya"  Janelle Monae  The Archandroid
"Baby"  Bebel Gilberto  Bebel Gilberto
"Baby"  The Bird and The Bee  Ray Guns Are Not Just The Future
"Baby"  Cecilia Stalin/Koop  Waltz For Koop
"Baby's Arms"  Kurt Vile  Smoke Ring For My Halo
"Baby's Coming Back To Me"  Jarvis Cocker  Love Will Tear You Apart (Mojo)
"Baby's On Fire"  Brian Eno  Here Come The Warm Jets
"Baby Baby"  The Vibrators  No Thanks!  The 70s Punk Rebellion (Rhino)
"Baby Birch"  Joanna Newsom  Have One On Me


No, apparently Joanna Newsom does not have some sort of palsy - she just does that when she sings.

In fact, there is kind of a lot of theatrics in this set.  Janelle Monae contributes a show tune.  The Bird & The Bee are prone to hyperbole . . . really any time you say "baby" you are probably heading into dangerous territory lyrically.  You say "baby baby baby" and you may as well go ahead with the spoken word interlude about coming "to you out of the mist or into the fire" because it isn't getting any sappier (ditto for you Bebel - if you stick to Portuguese, we don't notice the treacle as much).  Eno sets that baby on fire (actually it is Fripp's guitar that reduces things to a pile of awesome ashes).

But let's about the Vibrators.  The lyrics are cliched and horrible enough (again "baby" x3 - I am declaring it a rule.  Much like shots, more than 2 'babies' and you are going to look stupid).  I am shocked the song isn't a stadium rock anthem.  That isn't the important thing though.  The important thing is . . . these Germans covered it!  That is 1991, btw.  Apparently reunification meant unprecedented, and revelatory, access to Cars videos.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Abba Zaba to About This Love

"Abba Zaba"  Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band  Safe As Milk
"Abducted"  Cults  Cults
"Abernant 84/87"  The Mekons  New York: On The Road 1986-1987
"Abigail, Belle of Kilronan"  Magnetic Fields  69 Love Songs, Disc 2
"Able Mable"  Mable John  The Complete Stax/Volt Singles 1959-1968
"Abominable Snowman in the Market"  Jonathan Richman & the Modern Lovers  The Best of Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers
"About Face"  Grizzly Bear  Veckatamist
"About Her"  Malcolm McLaren  Kill Bill, Vol. 2 OST
"About Noon"  The Mar-Keys  The Complete Stax/Volt Singles 1959-1968
"About This Love"  Alejandro Escovedo  A Man Under The Influence


So I am going to try to pick this up again.  I don't really have a good excuse for not maintaining it.  I broke my shoulder and that took me down for a while, and then it just seemed hard to get back into the flow of it all.  Mostly it has just seemed like a hard thing to get back to somehow.  I am trying to figure out how to do it better so it seems a little more interesting to me and maybe to you (if any of you ever come back).  We will see - I was just having trouble staying engaged both with the writing and with the conceit.  So that said, I am going to try to get back into this, and hopefully get through the alphabet once more before the new year - which is only about 1/4 to 1/6 of where I had hoped to be.

I like this set because almost everyone on it is kind of off the beaten path.  Cults got a record deal based on songs they put together in their home and slapped up on Bandcamp.  The Mar-Keys were kids kicking around Satellite Records in Memphis and grew to be the house band for Stax-Volt.  Jonathan made a life choice to turn his back on the best set of Velvet Underground songs since Loaded in favor of a long and healthy career of ridiculous, slight, and ultimately very satisfying songs about Boston, baseball, snowmen and dancing in lesbian bars.

Really, everyone on this set ranges from "working musician" to "musical genius."  All right - not everyone.  Malcolm is somewhere between "huckster" and "visionary" (with some measure of "creepy old man/pedophile/monster," but we can wait to talk about Bow Wow Wow).  That said, he is at least partly responsible for the punk and post-punk revolutions, which provide a lasting mythology for all independent minded artists to this day.  And the song mashes up Bessie Smith and The Zombies so there can be only minimal hate.  Unless you are a French musician called Lancelot - you may have more hate - of course, I can't seem to find anything else about you, so you must rage without further linkage.

Distractions aside, the point is that this is a really great set - Stephen Merritt, Jon Langford, Alejandro . . . I guess this is as good a way as any to dive back into this.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

007 (Shanty Town) to 13 de Maio

"007 (Shanty Town)"  Desmond Dekker and The Aces  The Harder They Come
"1-800 Ming"  Brothers Love Dubs/John Digweed  Global Underground: Los Angeles
"#1 Hit Song"  The Minutemen  Double Nickels On The Dime
"10 A.M. Automatic"  The Black Keys  Rubber Factory
"10,000 Years Behind My Mind"  Focus Three  Psych Out! (Mojo Disc)
"10:15 Saturday Night"  The Cure  Staring At The Sea: The Singles
"100 Days, 100 Nights"  Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings  100 Days, 100 Nights
"100% Of Nothing"  The Meat Puppets  Meat Puppets II
"11:59"  Blondie  Parallel Lines
"13 de Maio"  Caetano Veloso  Noites De Norte

I have been out of town for much of the past week, which really isn't an excuse given that the internet goes anywhere.  I did go to Athens, GA to see my older son play in an end-of-camp concert.  He played and/or sang covers of Deerhunter, Sonic Youth, Rage Against the Machine, and System Of A Down.  He also screamed his way through "Feel Good, Inc."  He withdrew his promise of "Super Stupid" ("specifically for you, dad") at the last minute.  The "rock band camp" is a phenomenon that is, without trying, a commentary on the state of popular music.  What started as a form of music specifically for youth, and terrifying to some adults, has now become a part of extra-curricular programming.  This is too broad a brush, obviously - there is still music that offends, and the wrong song could probably have parents complaining to the point of ending a program, I have no doubt.  Ignoring any broad social comment, the program my son attended was particularly great.

In fact, let me take this forum to sing my praises out to the zero readers I have.  Nuci's Space was established as a place to help "assist in the emotional, physical and professional well-being of musicians."  As a part of that mission, a few years ago they began a summer camp program to nurture young musicians.  The program has grown from one two-week session to two, and now includes a year-long after-school program.  My son's experience has been an uncategorized success.  The working musicians who come in as counselors for the camp are, to a body, experienced, involved, and interested in the youths' safety and well-being as well as in making them better musicians.  The songs are selected by the kids with input from the counselors, and range from well-known classic rock to obscure modern indy tracks.  The camp ends with a concert of eight bands, and all are of consistently high quality.  The camp seems focused on people who are serious about music as a career, and some of them have begun to perform locally.

Anyway.  This is our first Minutemen song, and a moment silence for D. Boon please.  Charles gives me a hard time because I may or may not bring up the fact that I saw them live before he died a little too often.  Sorry.  It can't be helped.  The Minutemen's talent and legend is so outsized compared to (and perhaps because of) their minimal output and the tradedy of D's death that sometimes I just have to mention it.  I have very few things in my life that pass for cool, so those that I have get played a lot.  (Fabulous Fox in Atlanta, Nov. 30, 1985 - opening for R.E.M. along with Jason & The Scorchers).  The car accident was less than a month later.

A quick quiz - who is/would be oldest?  Robert Plant, Keith Moon, Carlos Santana, or . . . Debbie Harry?  That is correct, the queen of new wave was born in 1945, and is older than each of those dinosaurs.  While younger than Pete Townshend, Ray Davies, and Jimmy Page (and all of the Beatles), she is also older than John Bonham and John Paul Jones.  This means absolutely nothing, just a curiosity I came across.  She was 5-10 years older than everyone else in Blondie.

Rubber Factory always feels like a transition album to me.  It feels like the Black Keys are trying to get out of the derivative blues-rock that got them going through their first two albums, but which was a somewhat limiting form.  This track is very much in the mold  of Thickfreakness but there is an effort to escape.  This process continued through Attack & Release as well as the BlakRok project, with Brothers being a validation of that effort - a fully-realized, mature album which is informed by what came before, but stands as its own creation.

So I am through the alphabet once.  A review to come in the next day or so, and then back to the A's.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Zam'dziko to Zimbabwe

"Zam'dziko"  The Very Best  The Warm Heart of Africa
"'Zat You, Santa Claus?"  Louis Armstrong  Verve Remixed Christmas
"Zebra"  The Magnetic Fields  69 Love Songs
"A Zed and 2 L's"  Fila Brazillia  Pure Chillout
"Zera A Reza"  Caetano Veloso  Noites Do Norte
"Zero"  Smashing Pumpkins  Mellon Collie & The Infinite Sadness
"Zero"  Yeah Yeah Yeahs  It's Blitz
"Zig Zag Wanderer"  Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band  Safe As Milk
"Ziggy Stardust"  David Bowie  The Rise & Fall of Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders From Mars
"Zimbabwe"  Bob Marley  Songs Of Freedom [updated link b/c warner wiped out the last one - copyrant in future] 

  I don't know if it is naive to think music can effect any meaningful political change, or if I am just cynical and jaded at this point.  Not only did people like Bob Marley, Caetano Veloso, Gilberto Gil, and Fela Kuti think that they could be significant beyond mere entertainment, but apparently people who did not particularly like them agreed with them.  All of them were arrested or exiled.  Marley was shot.  Of course, Gil later became Brazil's minister of culture.  And Rhodesia actually did become Zimbabwe, so maybe I am cynical.  Whether any good comes from overtly political music, I guess no harm comes from it.

  One problem with political music is that it is inherently dated - at the very least the lyrics become outdated, so you had best hope the music sustains.    It is why something like "Joe Hill" seems like a museum piece.  The acoustic folk of the '60s (and agit-prop & hardcore later) is tied both musically and lyrically, into a specific time.   All that said, I think "Zimbabwe" holds up.  Maybe reggae is still a going concern.  Maybe Bob Marley is just better at it than most.  Maybe it is the music - you don't need a history degree (or even a wiki search on Rhodesia) to appreciate the rhythm.  It could be that there are enough vaguely stated universal truths in the song that it sustains (I particularly like the understated description of "overcome our little trouble").  Or maybe I just like Marley better than Joan Baez.

  Also - the guy in the "Zimbabwe" video (you can't miss him) who reminds me of this.

  More Yeah Yeah Yeahs.  Karen O gets a lot of press for being physically attractive, which may be unfortunate, because it is her voice and the hook-laden exciting music that make the band enjoyable.  The difference between the video here, and the one for "Y Control" make me worry that she might be reading the press clippings - much more focused on her (rather than the band or terrifying small children).  The bedazzled "KO" jacket is so extreme I assume it is a joke.

  Which may sum up every lyric ever written by Billy Corgan.  And yet Smashing Pumpkins' guitars are so wonderful, Billy's whining and self-absorption gets a pass most of the time.