I always keep an eye on Jeffrey Overstreet’s music suggestions (Jeffrey makes a wicked mix CD, by the way), and so I recently chased some links and ended up at InSound.com, where you can download a couple mp3s from Sufjan Stevens, including “Holland.” It’s a heckuva song from Greetings from Michigan. I’ve added it and Stevens’ latest, Seven Swans, to my Amazon Wish List. Can anyone make a strong case for one album being better than the other? Any other Sufjan fans?
Tag: YouTube
-
South Side of the Sky
At one point in my life — 1989 or thereabouts — I would have argued until blue in the face that Yes was the greatest rock band of all time. Not “Owner of a Lonely Heart” Yes; I’m talking about “20-minute Hammond organ solo, Jon Anderson falsetto-singing, Roger Dean album cover” Yes. It was one of my dorkier obsessions. Like, I still know most of the words to “Close to the Edge.” Thanks to iTunes and my dilligent digitizing of my CD collection, I heard “South Side of the Sky” the other day for the first time in probably ten years. My wife’s comments sum it up for me: “This is Yes? Huh. It doesn’t suck.” Actually, it’s a damn cool song. It’s certainly aged better than much of the early-70s prog rock.
As an aside: when I was 19 I played piano in a big band. One night, during a break, I started playing part of “South Side of the Sky” and within a minute the rest of the rhythm section joined in. It was really sloppy, but we made it from the end of the piano solo (the 3 minute mark) through most of the “la la la la la la la la” part.
-
Glenn Tipton
I’m pretty sure that this will be the last time I post a Song of the Moment that is named for one of Judas Priest’s guitarists. “Glenn Tipton” by Sun Kil Moon has been in constant rotation since I first heard it Saturday night. I was drawn to the album, Ghosts of the Great Highway, by its striking cover art; it wasn’t until 30 seconds into the first track that I realized that Sun Kil Moon is the new band from Mark Kozelek, formerly of Red House Painters (and Sweetwater, if you’re an Almost Famous fan). This song is what the inside of my head sounds like these days.
Cassius Clay was hated more than Sonny Liston
Some like KK Downing more than Glenn Tipton
Some like Jim Neighbors, some Bobby Vinton
I like ‘em allI put my feet up on the coffee table
I stay up late watching cable
I like old movies with Clarke Gable
Just like my dad doesJust like my dad did when he was home
Staying up late, staying up alone
Just like my dad did when he was thinking
Oh, how fast the years flyI know an old woman ran a doughnut shop
She worked late serving cops
But then one morning, baby, her heart stopped
Place ain’t the same no morePlace ain’t the same no more
Not without my friend, Eleanor
Place ain’t the same no more
Man, how things changeI buried my first victim when I was nineteen
Went through her bedroom and the pockets of her jeans
And found her letters that said so many things
That really hurt me badI never breathed her name again
But I liked to dream about what could have been
I never heard her calls again
But I like to dream -
America
In December, just before Christmas, my wife and I met her parents in Atlanta for a Simon and Garfunkel concert. Afterwards, as we walked back to our hotel, my father-in-law and I talked about the highlights of the show. The Everly Brothers showed up for a song or two, which was a great surprise. And it’s tough to beat “Sounds of Silence” and “Mrs. Robinson.” But “America” will always be my favorite Paul Simon song. There’s something so beautifully melancholy about the chorus.
On January 29th, my mother- and father-in-law passed away suddenly, and I miss them terribly.
-
Chain
“Chain” by The Fire Theft. Why? Because the world needs a good emo waltz, that’s why.
Jeremy Enigk seems to be taking a good bit of crap for his lyrics on this album — perhaps justifiably so. ButI like this song, and especially this bit: “I’m amazed / I see the world in revolution / Within the darkness a solution”. Too simple for most tastes, I know. Too straight-forward, too lacking in ironic distance. But I like it. Of course, I’m also glad that Enigk found God, so what do I know.
Chain, I feel the words falling in a rhythm
I see the world bearing its decision to never give in
I’m amazed
I hear the words form some kind of silence
When the world falls into violence
We’ll never give inChain, I see the world falling in a rhythm
I feel the wind bearing its decision to never give in
I’m afraid
I hear the words form some kind of silence
When the world falls into violence
They’ll never give inChained in silence
The rhythm of violence
Change all around us
Change in everything you seeI’m amazed
I see the world in revolution
Within the darkness a solution
We’ll never give inChained in silence
The rhythm of violence
Change all around us
Change in everything you seeAccording to Grandaddy’s Website, The Fire Theft, Saves the Day, and Grandaddy will be playing a show in Phoenix when I’m there in March. Anyone have an opinion about Saves the Day or Grandaddy? I’m not familiar with either.
-
Cross Bones Style
The oft-repeated but still-juicy line from Godard: “The history of cinema is boys photographing girls. The history of history is boys burning girls at the stake.” You can confirm the second sentence by watching TV for three minutes. To confirm the first sentence, watch the Cat Power videos available here at the Matador website.
I don’t know who Brett Vapnek is, but she’s internalized the not-very-hidden fact that Chan Marshall is beautiful like few people are ever beautiful. She does what director Patrick Daughters does in the “Maps” video for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs — lets the remarkable looking people provide remarkability. Each Cat Power video is better than the previous one because each song is better than the previous one and Marshall is more beautiful in each successive video. (At this rate, she will soon become a small dwarf star.) “He War,” a song that drives me bananas when I can’t see her, is almost unbearable as an actual sequence of moving images. The bronzed paeans to Jean Seberg and Anna Karina and Garbo tumble through my head, but they don’t stay long. There is little to say except “I was hoping to see somebody who looked like that one day.” And I have.
— Sasha Frere-Jones -
I’ll Be Gone
I have no idea why I’ve been listening to American Music Club’s San Francisco so much lately — I mean, other than because it’s a great album. “I’ll Be Gone” is a damn fine song.
It was a long hot summer day
We’re in the living room
watching the light drain away
Too tired to read what your cards foretold
Inside of a yawn
When she said,
The first time you show me your true heart
I’ll be gone.The numb ringing after the bell was rung
Playing red light green light, such timeless fun
There was no way to kickstart any conversation
It was like the beginning of 2001
When she said, I’ll be gone.The air isn’t moving and
The women have nothing on their lips
But the kind of breath that you keep
for the hospital bed
Pregnant with the timeless drop and the wind
How the air leeches the gold out of everything
elusive and stolen
I’ll be gone -
Big Dipper
“Big Dipper” is one more track from a mix CD that I received recently. I’ve never been a big fan of Cracker, but this song really works for me. I love the spare arrangement, especially the acoustic piano and steel guitar, but mostly I like this song because of the lyrics and because of David Lowery’s delivery of them.
Cigarette and carrot juice
And get yourself a new tattoo
for those sleeveless days of June
I’m sitting on the Cafe Xeno’s steps
with a book I haven’t started yet
watching all the girls walk byCould I take you out
I’ll be yours without a doubt
on that big dipper
And if the sound of this it frightens you
we could play it real cool
and act somewhat indifferentAnd hey June why did you have to come,
why did you have to come around so soon
I wasn’t ready for all this nature
The terrible green green grass,
and violent blooms of flowered dresses
and afternoons that make me sleepyBut we could wait awhile
before we push that dull turnstile
into the passage
The thousands they had tread
and others sometimes fled
before the turn cameAnd we could wait our lives
before a chance arrives
before the passage
From the top you can see Monterey
or think about San Jose
though I know it’s not that pleasantAnd hey Jim Kerouac
brother of the famous Jack
or so he likes to say “lucky bastard”
He’s sitting on the cafe Xeno’s steps
with a girl I’m not over yet
watching all the world go byBoy you are looking bad
Did I make you feel that sad
I’m honestly flattered
But if she asks me out
I’ll be hers without a doubt
on that big dipperCigarettes and carrot juice
and get yourself a new tattoo
for those sleeveless days of June
I’m sitting on the cafe Xeno’s steps
I haven’t got the courage yet,
I haven’t got the courage yet,
I haven’t got the courage yet -
Wayfaring Stranger
16 Horsepower is a Gothic country-rock quartet from Denver, but their version of “Wayfaring Stranger” feels so fated, so instinctual, it spreads the South all over the American map, a dusting of damnation on wherever you might be as you listen. Edwards is a brilliant banjo player: His sense of rhythm is as irresistible as it is elusive. On “Wayfaring Stranger,” brilliance means the ability to play as if the player is learning the strings as he makes the notes. You can imagine the singer as the hero of Charles Frazier’s Cold Mountain, the soldier on his trek back to his North Carolina home as the Confederate Army falls apart at the end of the Civil War, stumbling over an abandoned, half-busted banjo on the road, picking it up and discovering it comes with a song, this one.
Though nothing could be more prosaically American — a believer who has wandered through this land as a witness is ready to “cross over Jordan” — the uncertainty of the player’s touch makes you feel the man isn’t telling all he knows. Singing from inside the folk character, Edwards doesn’t tell you what he’s seen, but you can guess: “I’ll drop this cross of self-denial,” he says, and suddenly a mystical groaning, now pressed by guitar as well as banjo, comes out of the ground. . . . But after only one verse, in less than a minute, the old song stops. It seems to break down into a modern void, into abstract, disembodied sounds that don’t connect to each other; you wonder what happened. Then out of that suspension, the man returns, his scratchy, everyday voice insistent that death is the last promise he will keep: He will die with this song on his lips. He’ll sing it over and over for as long as it takes.
— Greil Marcus, Interview magazine
-
The Gloaming
Radiohead broke with routine on Monday night by opening with “The Gloaming.” (The complete setlist can be found here.) “The Gloaming,” like so much of the material from Hail to the Thief, played better live than on the album. I especially like Colin Greenwood’s new walking bassline. The show was broadcast live on Atlanta’s 99X and will be re-aired on Sunday night from 10 – midnight. Because of the FM broadcast there are already some great bootlegs floating around. (Not that I would support such a thing. I mean, the Song of the Moment just happened to appear on my hard drive. Like magic. One of those happy coincidences, I guess.)
-
Mary
I just discovered that Supergrass will be opening for Radiohead Monday night. Very nice! I know that this opinion is terribly unhip, but I’ll say it anyway: More bands need keyboard players, and more songs need keyboard riffs like the one in “Mary.”
-
Sneakin’ Sally
Robert Palmer has passed away. For years, I knew him only as the “Addicted to Love” guy, but then a friend with a killer CD collection moved into the dorm room across the hall from mine and fired up Sneakin’ Salley Through the Alley (1975). The first three songs on that album are as good as it gets. Of course, that might have more to do with his collaboration with Little Feat than with his own talent, but Palmer obviously had good taste.
-
Blood on My Hands
I just didn’t get the whole groupie phenomenon until about ten years ago, when I caught The Sundays at a club called The Moon in Tallahassee. Looking up at Harriet Wheeler, my elbows resting on the raised stage, I fell instantly and deeply in love. Or maybe it was lust. Regardless, she was the most seductive beauty I had ever seen. Her hair up. A form-fitting black dress. Those impossibly large eyes. I totally would have humiliated myself at her expense. And I mean “humiliated” in the Def Leppard Behind The Music kinda way.
As beautiful as she was, though, it was the music that got to me. All of that ridiculous talent. Wheeler’s voice is some kind of marvel. Calling it “angelic” would be a cliche, I guess. But it’s not smoky exactly either, or soulful or torch-songish. It’s mostly a breath, which is probably why, a decade later, “Blood on My Hands” still gives me chills. It exemplifies all that made The Sundays such a great band — that syncopated snare hit, David Gavurin’s chorus-heavy guitar, and that beautiful, beautiful voice.
-
Little Feat Mix
Let me make this point perfectly clear: Little Feat is the great unsung American rock and roll band. The July mix is a collection of songs from their golden period — roughly 1972 – 1978 — the years when founder Lowell George was at his peak. I’ve deliberately omitted a few staples, including their most famous numbers “Dixie Chicken,” “Oh Atlanta,” and “Willin’,” so that I could dig a bit deeper into the catalog.
“Easy to Slip” — The opening cut of Sailin’ Shoes (1972), the Feat’s second album and their last as a four-piece. Singer/songwriter/slide-guitar-genius George and bassist Roy Estrada formed the band after leaving the Mothers of Invention. They were joined by pianist Billy Payne and drummer Richie Hayward, both of whom continue to tour and record with the ’90s incarnation of the Feat. “Easy to Slip” is just a perfect opener.
“Two Trains” — From Dixie Chicken (1973), which introduced the classic Feat lineup. Estrada left to rejoin the Mothers and was replaced by Kenny Gradney, who was joined in the rhythm section by percussionist Sam Clayton. Paul Barerre, another top-notch singer and songwriter, also added a second guitar to the sound. A nice display of George’s trademark slide playing, “Two Trains” was later reworked for his first solo album, Thanks I’ll Eat It Here (1979).
“The Fan” — Feats Don’t Fail Me Now (1974) is far and away my favorite of their studio albums. The main thing to know about Little Feat is that Hayward, Gradney, and Clayton consistently created the fattest pocket ever enjoyed by a rock and roll band. Gradney is that selfless bass player that every great band needs — seldom flashy but always teeth-rattling.
“All That You Dream” — By the time they made The Last Record Album (1975), Barerre and Payne were beginning to contribute more of the songwriting. If I could step into a wayback machine to see Lowell George sing just one Little Feat song, I might choose Barerre’s “All That You Dream” — just so I could tip my head back and sing the opening line at the top of my lungs, “I’ve been down, but not like this before.” More songs should open with the chorus.
“Got No Shadow” — One of the first of Payne’s Feat tunes (1972), it also might be his best. “Got No Shadow” is probably my favorite cut from Sailin’ Shoes.
“Juliette” — Dixie Chicken is most known for the Bourbon Street boogie-woogie of the title track, but most of the album sounds more like “Juliette,” which is just a beautiful song. I love the production of this album. It’s warmer and a bit cloudier than anything you’ll get today. Even on CD, you can practically hear the record needle pop.
“Day or Night” — George is credited for only two of the nine songs on Time Loves a Hero (1977). By the end of the ’70s, most of his time was devoted to other “recreational” pursuits (which would lead to his death a few years later). The Feat’s sound changed accordingly. Hero features Michael McDonald and Skunk Baxter on a few tracks — evidence that, like the Doobies, Little Feat became slightly Steely Dan-ified during this period. It works on “Day or Night.”
“Time Loves a Hero” — Little Feat does Jimmy Buffett? Not my favorite track, but it’s such a great singalong chorus, and I like the bassline.
“Cold, Cold Cold” — A great antidote to the uber-production of “Hero,” “Cold” is Lowell George in concentrated form. This song shows up again at the end of Feats Don’t Fail Me Now. On the Live at Rockpalast DVD, you can listen to a running commentary with Payne, Barerre, and George’s widow. Her response to “Cold, Cold Cold” is classic. It couldn’t have been easy to hear her husband sing, “That woman was freezing, freezing cold.”
“On Your Way Down” — I could listen to this song every day for the rest of my life. Written by Allen Toussaint, “On Your Way Down” was just made for George’s voice, which never sounded better.
“Roll Um Easy” — Lowell George and an acoustic guitar. What I wouldn’t give for a chance to sit alone in a room with that voice.
“Skin It Back” — I had planned to only include songs with George on lead vocal, but Barerre sounds so good here. I’ve been known to break into this song at odd moments. And once I get started . . . “Well, I’m waiting for something to take place, something to take me away from this place, round city to city, town to town, runnin’ around in the shoes of a clown, and that desperate . . .”
“Day at the Dog Races” — I just had to include this one. The story goes that “Dog Races” was written during those long hours when the rest of the band was waiting for George to show up for rehearsals. What began as an impromptu jam grew into one of Little Feat’s few instrumentals. The 12-minute definitive version is now available on the remastered 2-disc Waiting for Columbus, but this studio version from Time Loves a Hero proves, I think, that they were capable of music as harmonically and rhythmically interesting as anything that Return to Forever and Weather Report were doing in the late-70s. Plus, how good is Billy Payne? He’s Rick Wakeman with a soul.
“Mercenary Territory” — If you don’t own a Little Feat album, just go buy the newest release of Waiting for Columbus (1978), which is without a doubt the greatest live rock album ever, Live at Leeds be damned. “Mercenary Territory” is relatively bland for the first two minutes, but then it changes gear, switching into a groovy walking bassline and Lowell George slide solo. When Lenny Pickett from Tower of Power unleashes his sax solo, all hell breaks lose. As he’s climbing into ridiculously high notes, notice how George is trailing him with his slide. If it don’t make the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, then you ain’t breathin’.
“Spanish Moon” — Little Feat, at their best, make you feel like you’re walking through the French Quarter, and this live version of “Spanish Moon” does that better than any other single track I can think of.
“Fool Yourself” — Consider it a coda.
-
Resplendent
What to hear a perfect song? “Resplendent,” by Bill Mallonee and Vigilantes of Love, is as close as it gets. There’s the Bruce Cockburn-like guitar, that sweet snare drum shuffle, and Emmylou’s harmonies. And then there’s the lyrics. When Mallonee sings, “Honey, we’re all resplendent,” you just know that he’s right. (Thanks for this song, Candace.)
I remember the dark clouds raining dust for days on end
Blew all the Earth out to California
Just left us here with the wind
Desperate times, you know everbody’s part
It’s your own lines you’d like to forget
Till what you were meets what you’ve now become
And grins and says, “Hey, haven’t we met?”Lost my first born that Winter
My wife on the first day of Spring
So I poured my sweat to the Earth
To see what that harvest would bring
And I remember how the fury
Just like a plague of locusts
Egypt’s punishment for sins of pride
Is that now what has come over us?How much of this was meant to be?
How much the work of the Devil?
How far can one man’s eyes really see
In these days of toil and trouble?Honey, we’re all resplendent,
Yeah, Honey, we are all thrift store
Like a wine-o with a $20 bill
Yeah, forever and eternally yours
And I can make you promises
If you don’t expect too much,
Yes, and I will run the distance
If you’ll please, please excuse my crutchHow much of this was meant to be?
How much the work of the Devil?
How far can one man’s eyes really see
In these days of toil and trouble?How much of this is failing flesh?
How much a course of retribution?
My, my, how loudly we plead our innocence
Long after we made our contribution -
Until the End of the World
I usually use the “Song of the Moment” to promote music that readers might not hear otherwise. So why U2? I’m just stuck on “Until the End of the World” right now, and I’m not sure why. It has nothing to do with politics (although I’ve certainly admired many of Bono’s recent statements). And I never even got around to buying Achtung Baby. I think it’s because I’ve had Angels in America on the brain lately, and the production we saw blared late-80s, early-90s U2 during the scene changes. Yep. That’s gotta be it. Enjoy.
-
Therefore, I Am
The tunes have begun to roll in. A few weeks ago I offered to send copies of my mix CDs to anyone who returned the favor. The new Song of the Moment — Jim O’Rourke’s “Therefore, I Am” — is a surprise from disc 1 of a 2-disc set sent by David in Edmonton. This track is just so rock and roll. I love it. A little advice: the louder you play it, the more transcendent it becomes.
-
The Sweet Sting
With nothing better to do last Saturday night, my wife and I found ourselves watching Richard Linklater’s Dazed and Confused again. Aside from my lingering obsession with Sixteen Candles, I’ve never been a big fan of teen comedies. Most are cut-and-paste collages of cliches and bad pop that are too busy romanticizing high school to remember how much it sucked and how damn interesting the typical teenager really is. I’m not being ironic this time. Seriously.
The best compliment I can give Dazed and Confused is that it makes me deliriously nostalgic. My American Heritage calls “nostalgia” a “bittersweet longing,” which gets it just about right, I think. I’ve never been one to miss high school. I would guess that in the last ten years I’ve spoken to three people from my class. But I do occasionally find myself longing for something from those days, something lacking in the day to day management of adult life.
Joanna and I chatted about this as we watched Dazed and Confused Saturday night (as adults are wont to do — we chat), and we decided that that something is an “intensity of experience” only found amidst the stew of anxiety and wonder that is adolescence. Think about it. When you’re in high school, whose car you ride around in on Friday night matters. And who sees you in that car matters even more. It’s not trivial, although I think we adults like to console ourselves by pretending it is. In fact, I’m not sure that anything I’ve done in the last ten years has mattered as intensely as almost everything mattered when I was fifteen. Dazed and Confused gets that just right, which makes it the only teen movie that, well, that matters.
Watching it again, I was really struck by this conversation, which is also just right.
Mike: I’m serious, man, we should be up for anything.
Cynthia: I know. We are. But what? I mean, God, don’t you ever feel like everything we do and everything we’ve been taught is just to service the future.
Tony: Yeah, I know. It’s like it’s all preparation.
Cynthia: Right. But what are we preparing ourselves for?
Mike: {glib} Death.
Tony: Life of the party.
Mike: {glib again} It’s true.
Cynthia: You know, but that’s valid. Because if we’re all gonna die anyways, shouldn’t we be enjoying ourselves now? You know, I’d like to quit thinking of the present, like right now, as some minor, insignificant preamble to something else.
Mike: Exactly. Man, that’s what everyone in this car needs is some good ol’, worthwhile, visceral experience.Sure, it’s a bit carpe diem-ish — and I usually recoil at anything that smacks of Robin Williams sentimentality — but there’s also something wonderfully freeing in that existential naivety. That “insignificant preamble” stuff has come up often in my conversations with other well-adjusted adults lately. Odd.
-
A Mid-’80s Mix
Between roughly April 1987 (a month before my 15th birthday) and June 1988 (a month after my 16th), I did all of the following:
- Traveled to Europe, where I had my first real crush.
- Received an electric razor as an unexpected present from the folks.
- Made my one failed attempt at traditional high school popularity (J.V. football).
- Attended my first arena rock concert (Rush’s A Show of Hands Tour)
- Got my first real job (“sandwich artist” at Subway)
- Began blowing all of my money on audio equipment (including my first CD player).
- Attended my first stadium rock concert (Pink Floyd’s Delicate Sound of Thunder Tour).
- Got my driver’s license.
The March mix is a collection of songs that now leave me paralyzed with nostalgia. As best as I can remember, these are the some of the more important songs that accompanied my life that year, when everything, it seemed, was so painfully important. This one could easily have grown to a 2- or 3-disc set. Conspicuously absent are: Peter Gabriel, Sting, King Crimson, INXS, The Police, Robert Plant, The Clash, Yes, Roger Waters, Indigo Girls, Howard Jones, Led Zeppelin, and Boston (yes, Boston).
- “Litany (Life Goes On)” by Guadalcanal Diary
- “Pretty in Pink” by The Psychedelic Furs
- “Subdivisions (Live)” by Rush
- “Medicine Show” by Big Audio Dynamite
- “Never Let Me Down Again” by Depeche Mode
- “Dear God” by XTC
- “Welcome to the Occupation” by R.E.M.
- “Abacab” by Genesis
- “It’s Over” by Level 42
- “One Slip” by Pink Floyd
- “Just Another Day” by Oingo Boingo
- “Cool for Cats” by Squeeze
- “If I Should Fall from Grace with God” by The Pogues
- “Another Tricky Day” by The Who
- “Give Blood” by Pete Townshend
- “The Working Hour” by Tears for Fears
- “Bullet the Blue Sky” by U2
-
February Mix
- “How It Should Be (Sha Sha)” Ben Kweller
- “Sister Cry” The Jayhawks
- “Mata Hari Dress” Marlee MacLeod
- “Two Knights and Maidens” Crash Test Dummies
- “Pyramid Song” Radiohead
- “Rest of Yesterday” Alana Davis
- “The Way We Get By” Spoon
- “Indian Summer Breakdown” Varnaline
- “There She Goes Again” The Velvet Underground
- “Moving” Supergrass
- “It’s Alright, Baby” Komeda
- “Bitterblue” Cat Stevens
- “A Common Disaster” Cowboy Junkies
- “Aunt Avis” Widespread Panic and Vic Chesnutt
- “Crumbs” Jonatha Brooke
- “Uninhabited Man” Richard Thompson
- “California” by Phantom Planet
- “The Past and Pending” The Shins
- “Why I Lied” Mychael Danna (The Sweet Hereafter)
-
January Mix
With the purchse of our new computer, we have entered the 21st century with all its new-fangled technology. Which is why it was only yesterday — after deciding to take the day off or risk my head exploding from the tedium that is my day job — that I was able to finally go digging through my music collection in search of a mix CD. Soon after I finished (four hours after I began), I flipped on the tube and caught a commercial for the upcoming “broadcast television premiere” of High Fidelity. Where’s Alanis Morissette when you need her?
So in the interest of . . . well, I can’t actually think of a reason that this would be of interest to anyone, but here’s the playlist:
- “Getting Married” Sam Phillips
- “This Mess We’re In” P.J. Harvey
- “Try Not To Breathe” R.E.M.
- “I’ve Seen It All” Bjork
- “God Rest His Soul” The 31st of February *
- “Widow’s Walk” Suzanne Vega
- “I Need You Like a Drug” They Eat Their Own
- “Faces in Disguise” Sunny Day Real Estate
- “Northern Sky” Nick Drake
- “North Dakota” Lyle Lovett
- “Mount Washington” Beth Orton
- “Past the Mission” Tori Amos
- “Round the Bend” Beck
- “Into the Mystic” Van Morrison
- “5&1/2 Minute Hallway” Poe
- “No Way Out” Peter Gabriel
- “love is more thicker than forget” The Story
“North Dakota,” which has always been one of my favorite songs, was a last-second replacement for “One More Colour” by Sarah Polley and Mychael Danna (from The Sweet Hereafter soundtrack), and I’m starting to regret the move. I needed something a little more up-tempo to get from Nick Drake to Beth Orton. All in all, a great little collection, though. I’ve always had a thing for driving around by myself on those first warm days of spring, preferably around dusk and with the windows down. This CD will make a great companion for those trips.
Feel free to pass along your favorite mixes. I’m always looking for good music.
* The 31st of February was an early incarnation of the Allman Brothers. “God Rest His Soul” can be found on the first disc of their Dreams boxset.
-
Death or Glory
I have this strange memory of being ten years old, standing at the bus stop with my friends huddled around me as I told them about this song I’d heard on my little portable radio the night before. Part of my excitement came from my having misheard the lyrics. I could have sworn that the gravel voice was screaming, “Fuck the casbar! Fuck the casbar!”
I was fairly hip for a ten-year-old. As I recall, for my birthday that year, friends gave me Led Zeppelin IV, Blizzard of Oz, and Rush’s Exit . . . Stage Left. But I wasn’t ready for The Clash, not even for Top 40 Clash. I thought I understood rock music, but Joe Strummer thought differently. I wasn’t ready.
I backed into The Clash again a few years later, when I worked at a sandwich shop. There, especially during the slow night hours, we would pop in our favorite tapes and talk and laugh until it was finally time to lock the front door. I can’t remember now who brought in their Clash tapes, but I remember the songs. It was tough to choose just one for the Song of the Moment, but I knew that it had to be from London Calling. “Death or Glory,” I hope, isn’t too obvious a choice.
The best coverage I’ve found of Strummer’s death is from The Guardian:
- Punk’s Rebel with a Cause Dies at 50 by Fiachra Gibbons
- God Bless the People’s Punk by Sean O’Hagen
- No Ordinary Joe by Henry McDonald
- Obituary by Adam Sweeting
And as the perfect tribute to Strummer, here’s an interesting piece from The Nation. In The Power of Music, Ann Powers (who seems to be everywhere these days, from MTV to NPR) sits down with Boots Powers, Eddie Vedder, Tom Morello, Amy Ray, and Carrie Brownstein to discuss the possibility of progressive political activism in popular music. Tom Morello, in particular, just fascinates me. Way too well-informed and articulate for a guitar player. When asked to boil down his opinions to a single message, he responded with:
You are a historical agent. History is not something that has happened in the past and that is made up of names and dates and places of kings and generals, history is what you make in your home, in your place of work, in the streets, in your community and in the world and your actions–your actions or your inaction is directly affecting the fate of the world that you live in and should be treated with that gravity.
-
Already Dead
Further (anecdotal) evidence that the record companies are pointing their fingers in the wrong direction: Sea Change is the first Beck album I have purchased, and I never would have done so had I not first listened to it via a file-sharing service. (By the way, Tom Petty also has a beef or two with the major labels.) Sea Change is a fantastic disc — right now it’s running a close second to Beth Orton’s Daybreaker for my Best of 2002. Beck has simplified both his songwriting and production, creating some odd mix of Graham Parsons and ELO. At the moment “Already Dead” is my favorite track, but there really isn’t a weak spot here.
-
It’s Alright, Baby
I have almost completely exorcised television from my daily diet. Aside from The Daily Show, That 70s Show reruns, and assorted documentary and news programs, I watch only one show: The Gilmore Girls. It’s a wonderfully written show — witty and sarcastic, but surprisingly free of cynicism. I’m also drawn to the show for personal reasons, most notably the strange resemblances between the Gilmores and the family that I married into. Don’t believe me?
With Sam Phillips as its musical supervisor, The Gilmore Girls has always had impeachable music cred, and now it’s on display in a fantastic soundtrack album. I listened to it for the first time last night and am still reeling. The song of the moment, “It’s Alright, Baby” by Komeda, is Euro-retro-pop at its most infectious. Just a fantastic song.
-
Bathsheeba Smiles
I’m on a quest for the perfect pop song. “Bathsheba Smiles” isn’t quite perfect, but it comes awfully darn close: an infectious melody, a sing-along chorus, a simple chord progression, and a sweet lyric. Heck, you could almost dance to it.
What do you think? It’s time to make this blog interactive. Nominate your favorite pop song and tell me why it’s perfect. I’ll post your responses as I get them.
-
Chocolate City
I’ve come to take great delight in the stranger dissonances of everyday life. Last night, while waiting to be seated at Calhoun’s — which, by the way, really is the place for ribs in Knoxville — I was thrilled to hear Parliament’s “Chocolate City” come on the radio. Something about hearing these lyrics float, almost subliminally, through the restaurant struck me as unexplainably odd and wonderful. . .
And when they come to march on ya
Tell ’em to make sure they got their James Brown pass
And don’t be surprised if Ali is in the White House
Reverend Ike, Secretary of the Treasure
Richard Pryor, Minister of Education
Stevie Wonder, Secretary of FINE arts
And Miss Aretha Franklin, the First LadyAre you out there, CC?
A chocolate city is no dream
It’s my piece of the rock and I dig you, CC
God bless Chocolate City and its (gainin’ on ya!) vanilla suburbs
Can y’all get to that?
Gainin’ on ya!
Gainin’ on ya!If America needs anything right now, it’s more P-Funk.
-
Grace, Too
I have been following The Tragically Hip since becoming enamored of Atom Egoyan’s film, The Sweet Hereafter. His use of the Hip’s “Courage” is pitch perfect. Although I’ve never had a chance to see them in concert — the Canadian band seldom makes trips to the American South (and I don’t really blame them) — this version of “Grace, Too” just kills me. It has the ecstatic energy of the best live performances, but it’s something about that bass line and the way that Gord Downie unleashes the line, “Armed with will and determination / And grace, too,” that rips me up.
-
Thinking About Tomorrow
I just spent the last hour in nirvana, listening to Beth Orton’s new album, Daybreaker. Soooooo good. 51 minutes of music without a single weak spot. Emmylou even shows up on a track, so you know it’s good. I think this is her official site, which, by the way, is so well designed that even dial-up folks like myself can listen to the audio samples. Check out “Thinking About Tomorrow,” which is some kind of beautiful blend of Lou Reed and Sarah McLachlan that manages to improve on them both.
