The Social Security website shows that naming your child Joe is in decline. Over the last 20 years, it has moved from 315th most popular to 705th. Liam, Noah and Oliver are in the first 3 for 2019. That said, there are a number of musicians named Joe - some by birth, some taken later.
Because ... the theme is Joe, these gentlemen qualify. (I don't know of any girls named Joe, but there are a few named Jo.) And ... Billie Jo Spears and Jo Stafford kinda fit the theme-related bill.
A couple of random Joes here ... no sequence, no relation except that they are all Joe. And there's many more Joes I didn't list, but ...hey ... my list.
Warren Zevon is one of those artists whose music I’ve enjoyed and appreciated over the years without ever really being a fan, or learning all that much about him. There’s just so much music out there, and so little time. David Letterman, on the other hand, was a huge Zevon fan. He was a guest on Letterman’s various shows more than two dozen times, and even filled in 20 times as bandleader when Paul Shaffer was unavailable.
Back in 2002, Zevon was diagnosed with lung cancer, and shortly afterwards appeared as the only guest on Letterman’s show. Their interview soon became a classic. Letterman’s respect and compassion for his dying subject, coupled with Zevon’s unflinching honesty and humor (which gave Letterman the opening to be funny, too) is striking. During the course of their discussion, Zevon responded to Letterman’s question about his new-found understanding of life and death with the phrase “Enjoy every sandwich,” which became a pretty well-known distillation of his life's philosophy. Zevon also performed three songs on the show that night. The Letterman show is worth watching, and you can see the interview here, the performance of “Mutineer,” here, “Genius” is here, and Letterman’s request, “Roland The Headless Thompson Gunner” is here. And Letterman's and Shaffer's heartfelt announcement of Zevon's death about a year later is here.
At the time of the Letterman interview, Zevon had recently released an album whose title, My Ride’s Here, seemed eerily prescient in retrospect. But to be fair, his prior album was called Life’ll Kill Ya, so it is probably more fair to say that he was comfortable with his death as a concept, not that he had any mystical foreshadowing of his demise.
After his diagnosis, Zevon worked on his last album, which ended up titled The Wind. It is hard to listen to the album without feeling that Zevon was trying to sum up his tumultuous life and preparing for its end. It includes 10 original songs (or co-writes with his long-time collaborator Jose Calderón), and a poignant cover of Dylan’s “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door.” The album included numerous high profile guests, including Mick
Fleetwood, Jackson Browne, Joe Walsh, Tom Petty, Billy Bob Thornton,
Dwight Yoakam, T-Bone Burnett, David Lindley and Emmylou Harris. While the album contained its share of contemplative ballads, Zevon could still rock and show his trademark twisted humor, most notably with guest Bruce Springsteen, who shared vocals and played electric guitar on the raucous “Disorder In The House.”
The song lays out the chaos and confusion in the titular house--overflowing bathtubs, falling plaster, doors coming off their hinges. It’s so bad that “even the Lhasa Apso seems to be ashamed.” Then, it becomes clear that the song is about criminals being chased by the police, but it appears that the narrator escapes.
To me, what is most memorable about the song is the fun that Zevon and Springsteen seem to have performing it.
The Wind was released two weeks before Zevon died, at the age of 56. The album received five Grammy nominations, including Song of the Year for "Keep Me in Your Heart," and it won two Grammys, for Best Contemporary Folk Album, and "Disorder in the House" was awarded Best Rock Performance by a Duo or Group With Vocal.
These were the first Grammys of Zevon's career, and I suspect that he’d be chuckling to himself if he knew what it took for him to get them.
As a theme, getting locked up carries a lot of weight and
takes on various manifestations: there’s mental prisons of our own making;
lonely cells behind actual bars; locks, and chains and the heavy burden of
time, doing it and being crushed under it.
It’s really no surprise to see the number of songs related
to some variant of the word ‘prison’, not to mention movies. Prison films make
up a special genre all their own, and I’m sure you have your favorite.
Something about a piece of art that depicts the horrors of losing one’s most
fundamental right, their freedom, just begs for a deeper look, and creates in
the depiction a purer form of empathy than exists in other genres. Something
about being locked away, unable to control even the slightest aspect of your
own autonomy, and often subject to the basest of human behaviors, creates in
the viewer/listener a sense of fear and sympathy. Simply put, it boils down to:
there but for the grace of God…No matter how awful the subject, the lack of
freedom makes us pause and wonder. And feel what the prisoner feels.
But, there will be plenty of time to focus on a nice, dark
bit of music inspired by prison. For now, let’s have a little fun.
Despite the inherent silliness of this song I’m choosing, or
perhaps because the subject leans so precariously toward the dark and the
serious, I can’t resist highlighting The Blues Brother’s take on the classic
“Jailhouse Rock” for our theme of “Prison.”
The Blues Brothers movie—cable TV ubiquity aside—is a
classic. Over the top, gratuitous, destructive, balls to walls in every way,
including the straight up marvel of the live musical numbers, The Blues
Brothers is one of the films that tends to overcome its own flaws and take on a
greater sense of iconic the older it gets.The musical performances, including Ray Charles, James Brown, Aretha
Franklin, and more are the strongest aspect of the movie. The all-out musical
mayhem and the use of the city of Chicago as a set to pay tribute to some of
the great voices of Rhythm and Blues is what make the film. James Brown’s burn
down the house preacher scene, Ray Charles’ pawn shop jam, Aretha Fraklin
singing R.E.SP.E.C.T in the diner, John Lee Hooker as a street musician. The
movie would be great without the addition of the madcap antics of brothers
Blues, the Illinois Nazis (“I hate Illinois Nazis!”), the entirety of the
Chicago PD force, The National Guard, and the Good Ol' Boys…You know the movie. If you don’t, you
should. It deserves the cult status it has earned and for a certain segment of
us, the “We’re On a Mission From God” poster was standard décor for the dorm
room.
The song itself? If you don’t know it was one of Elvis’
earliest and biggest hits, then you probably don’t know much about music. Here,
John Belushi and partner Dan Aykroyd, both musical aficionados and true fans in
real life, use the movies to enact their own living, breathing rock n roll
fantasy while paying tribute to the King, much in the same way they did with
other greats, such as Sam and Dave and Solomon Burke. A lot of people viewed
the Blues Brother’s musical venture with cynical scorn: two Hollywood goofs
play acting their way through a vanity project. But with the heavy weight
additions of some of the aforementioned greats, a legit backing band, and a
true love for Rock ‘n Roll, Soul and the Blues, the Blues Brothers output, at
this far remove, seems like a lot more than shtick. And, their first album, Briefcase Full of Blues, did actually
reach number one.
“Jailhouse Rock” is the end scene of the movie, last in
line for a lot of amazing musical numbers. While most of the movie was done in
Chicago, and was, according to Aykroyd a tribute to the city itself, the finale
was shot in LA. Somehow, the entire band ends up prison, thought it was only
Jake and Elwood that got arrested. Joe Walsh, from the Eagles, plays the
prisoner who jumps up on the table and starts the riot. Its not the highlight of the film but it is
the Blues Brothers doing what they did: down and dirty R&B that passed for
the real thing, because it is.
As for the original, by Elvis—have you ever listened to the
lyrics?It’s a great rock song that features
that indescribable shuffle and strum that only the King could spin, the beat
that changed the sound of pop music ever after. It’s such an iconic piece of
musical history, the covers of it run into the thousands (Search Spotify if you
doubt me…). But honestly, its an odd song, content-wise, and I always wondered
about it. According to Rolling Stone, the “…theme song for Presley's third movie was decidedly silly…
kind of tongue-in-cheek goof. The King, however, sang it as straight rock &
roll, overlooking the jokes in the lyrics (like the suggestion of gay romance
when inmate Number 47 tells Number 3, 'You're the cutest jailbird I ever did see')..."
I feel like I need to add, not that there’s anything wrong with that, and there
isn’t, but, seriously: the song has
forever struck me as odd, simply for the fact that it does seem to be a
strange, poorly told, and in poor taste joke, that despite his uber-cool, Elvis
really didn’t get what he was singing.Maybe that’s an indication of the times, maybe there’s noting wrong with
keeping an innocent sense of what the song is. Maybe we should just focus on
the sound: the clock-work rhythm, the punchy up-down guitar, the spin out drums
and Scotty Moore’s quick-step riff or wailing solo. When a song is as instantly
iconic and recognizable as “Jailhouse Rock”, does it really matter who sings
it (movie stars), or what it really means, so long as it gets played? And
really, great songs, or movies, don’t really need to make sense to be good.
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