Call Me: Bananaphone

Raffi: Bananaphone

[purchase]

Rhonda Vincent: Bananaphone

[purchase Country Goes Raffi - it's amazingly awesome!]


Seriously: this song isn't as bad as you think it is.

Sure, it's made for kids. It's plenty silly, enough to have staying power as viral meme in the digital world. It's got such a high catchiness quotient, it's prone to get stuck in the brain for days.

But so what if it's an earworm: it's also so infectiously fun, you can't help but sing along once you know the words.

And check out that jazz drum intro, the jaunty piano riffs, the clarinet. It would make a wonderfully playful song to play over the credits for a Woody-Allen-meets-Elmo flick, if there could ever be such a thing.

Rhonda Vincent's swingin' countrygrass take kicks it, too. And in the end, doesn't good coverage say what it needs to about the innate soundness of a song?

So let yourself go: try 'em both, and then try to get the damn thing out of your head. I'll be over here, dancing around the living room with the five year old, laughing my head off.

Call Me: Hello Old Friend

Kim Richey: Hello Old Friend

[purchase]

Our theme this week lends itself to contemplation of technological change. I’m not the first to mention it, but the fact is that the telephone and its use have changed drastically in my lifetime. Hello Old Friend brings this to mind in a different way than most of the songs so far this week. The narrator gets a call out of the blue from an old friend. The conversation is awkward at first. The conventional pleasantries hide the fact that they are not sure what to say to one another. Eventually, they find just a small piece of common ground, and it is enough. So what does this have to do with changing technology? The song dates from 1999, and I can’t imagine anyone making a call like that today. Now, you would just send a friend request on Facebook, and hope that the other person would eventually post something you wanted to respond to. Something has been gained, but something has also been lost.

I am on something of a Kim Richey kick lately. I just reviewed her latest album, Wreck Your Wheels, on my blog Oliver di Place. That got me thinking of this song, and I’m glad this theme came along so I could share it.

Call Me: Operator Edition

Bob Dylan & The Band: Long Distance Operator

[purchase]

Jim Croce: Operator (That's Not the Way it Feels)

[purchase]

Roman Reese: Come in Operator

[purchase]

Bert's post got me thinking about the now obsolete job of the telephone operator.  Odds are that my daughter, who is now three months old will never have the experience of picking up a phone and simply dialing the switchboard operator for assistance with making a call.  Heck, I'm 32, and I don't think I've ever done it either.

My grandfather worked 30 years for AT&T.  When he started working for the phone company, the switchboard operator was an absolutely essential piece of the puzzle.  Now his great-granddaughter will likely have no idea the job ever existed.  Maybe he can tell her about it someday.

The first two songs here are fairly classic.  The third is a more recent track from former Knoxvillian (now in the DC area) Roman Reese about a more metaphorical phone call.  In it, the singer is sending up a prayer, and God is working the switchboard.

Call Me: Past to Present Edition

White Stripes: Hello Operator

[purchase]

Hoyt Axton: Telephone Booth

[purchase]

Brian Setzer: Pennsylvania 6-5000

[purchase]

Drive-By Truckers: George Jones Talkin' Cell Phone Blues

[purchase]

This week's theme got me thinking about how greatly telephones have changed in the last few decades. Years ago operator assisted long distance calls were common. So were phone booths and letter prefixes. Land line hard wire telephones have becoming increasingly scarce with over 285 million American mobile subscribers.That's about 91 percent of the total population of the United States. Some 24.5 percent of U.S. households have also dumped their landlines which translates to about 52 million mobile-only subscribers. Worldwide, mobile subscriptions have reached 4.6 billion! Quite the distance we've traveled since Alexander Graham Bell said to his assistant, Thomas A. Watson in another room, "Mr.Watson, come here, I want to see you."

Call Me: Call Me (Two Soulful Versions)

Aretha Franklin: Call Me

[purchase]

Al Green: Call Me (Come Back Home)

[purchase]

I'm back from 3 weeks in Europe; didja miss me? I missed SMM, especially Discovery Week, which I watched from afar (and great, great job, everyone!) Every day I wrote a post in my head about a discovery of mine, which I'd change by the next day. I mean, where would I even begin? With my very first 45 record that I listened to over and over on my little kiddie record player at the tender age of 4? That would be The Andrews Sisters "Sugar in the Morning" (and if I could ever get hold of that single, I'd be over the moon!) Or would I write about my most recent discovery, NICO Touches the Walls, a group I'm exploring right this very moment after hearing "THE BUNGY" last week? Because I've been around for a long time, you could say I'm spoiled for choice. And while I may not know you well or even at all, I can pretty much say for certainty that all of you are the same – music moves you and your life. The song may not remain the same but music is important. Do you find yourself at a loss for words when you find yourself fervently proselytizing about some special song or group, only to be told that your listener "doesn't really pay attention to music at all." I'm left guppying in amazement.

Therefore, I'm going to sneak in a bit of discovery for my "Call Me" songs.

I grew up in suburban Detroit (aka The Motor City – Motown) in the '60s, which means I listened to a whole lot of soul music at a tender age on WKNR (Keener 13) and CKLW (which, okay, was technically a Canadian station, but it was just across the river). One of my favorite singers then and now is Aretha Franklin, a Detroit native.

Aretha wrote "Call Me" in 1970 as a slow piano-backed ballad, which is backed with the famous session musicians, the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section. She pleads with her lover to keep in touch during their upcoming separation, but expresses confidence that love will carry them through. And you get the feeling it will.

Another powerful soul singer expresses the same sentiment in a song of (nearly) the same name. Al Green's 1973 hit implies that his upcoming separation may be permanent and perhaps their love isn't quite so solid, but he urges his lover to "come back home" if the going gets rough.

I was reminded of the staying power of this tune when I heard it Tuesday while shopping at my local Ross, a store that plays some pretty good music and isn't afraid to turn it up, either. I know you notice ambient music, too, admit it. You're the person next to me in the elevator who knows I'm not some crazy woman laughing at nothing - I'm just chuckling at the incongruity of that Muzaked version of "White Wedding."

Call Me: New York Telephone Conversation

Lou Reed: New York Telephone Conversation

[purchase]

It seems that a lot of telephone talking (judging by what I overhear on the bus, anyway) deals with "who has" "who did" "...did not!" "...better not!", and all that same stripe of gossip.

It's disheartening.

Lou Reed nails that wearying, spot-on, during the set up of New York Telephone Conversation.

Getting woke up, and deciding whether to answer... is much easier now, what with caller ID, no?

Deciding to answer and finding out it is nothing important, just idle chatter and gossip. No more easier then than now, no?

But then Lou spins it. curing the emotional bend of too-much-talking into what every person who has been in love has ever wanted to hear:

"For I know this night will kill me if I can't be with you."

Call Me: Memphis, Tennessee

Bill Morrissey and Greg Brown: Memphis, Tennessee

[purchase]

In 1993, Greg Brown and Bill Morrissey were big names in folk music, so the news that they had done an album together was big news. Friend of Mine has some traditional songs, songs by folk artists old a new, and some ringers, like this one, originally by Chuck Berry. But try finding more versions of this song. There are simply too many. Memphis, Tennessee has been done in country, punk, rockabilly, and rock versions. Tom Jones, Elvis Presley, and Sammy Kershaw have all done it. So this is a song that has become part of the culture. That’s because Chuck Berry expressed something universal here, the yearning of a father who has been separated from his daughter. So Memphis, Tennessee has become part of the culture and has a universal theme. Maybe that means that it is a folk song after all. And maybe it’s really not so surprising that Brown and Morrissey recorded it.

Call Me: Hanging On The Telephone (x3)

Blondie: Hanging On The Telephone

[purchase]

The Nerves: Hanging On The Telephone

[purchase]

L7: Hanging On The Telephone

[purchase]

Most folks know where this week's theme title came from. But less seem familiar with Blondie's "other" phone-themed song, an earlier, popular cover of an obscure song by Jack Lee's short-lived US West Coast power pop trio The Nerves, which sped up the song a la punk and gave Blondie their third top 10 song on the UK charts (Trivia note: their first chart-topper, the previous year's Denis, was also a cover). By the time all-American all-girl thrashpunk band L7's even faster cover found it's way to the Jerky Boys Movie soundtrack in 1995, the song was already starting to fade from the national consciousness - tellingly, L7 and The Nerves were both from Los Angeles - and until Cat Power revived the song for a Cingular commercial in 2006, it hadn't really stuck in mine, either.

But despite my affinity for all things sweet, I think sticking with the punk evolution is a better way to appreciate this one, in the end. The opening ring is cute, and the drum-beat rich and just frantic enough in all three versions here today. Blondie's harmonies are sweet, and typical of the sound that brought the American New Wave to the forefront of popular music in my own formative years, and lead singer Debbie Harry has a great tone here. But I mostly like this tune for the room it opens up for the guitars - something you can hear in every incarnation.

Call Me: Until We Die

Chantal Kreviazuk: Until We Die

I'm not a phone person myself, in fact I'd say it's my least favorite way of communicating, but I can still understand the sentiment behind this beautiful love song by Canadian singer-songwriter Chantal Kreviazuk. "Until We Die" was featured on her album "Colours Moving and Still", which was released in 1999, the same year she married her boyfriend, Our Lady Peace frontman Raine Maida.

As one could imagine, two successful musicians with extensive touring schedules would have to deal with a lot of time apart. If this song tells us anything, it says that their conversations during those times away were a little bit of heaven and made them realize how much they were meant to be together. I've had a history of spending long periods of time away from the one I love, and I know how sometimes just hearing their voice is the most comforting and wonderful thing.

Call Me: Don't Answer The Phone

Monster: Don't Answer The Phone

[purchase]

Hearing of this week's theme I couldn't help but think that with the crazy cell phones people have these days "connecting via telephone" could mean virtually anything. Having a phone with which you can only make calls is as antiquated as using a Walkman.

Not that I would know anything about these fancy gadgets, I didn't even own a cell phone until last year at the ripe age of 28. And I didn't even buy it myself, it was a birthday present from friends who were sick of never being able to get hold of me. It was ultimately a present for themselves more than for me, as I only use when someone calls me.

To paraphrase Leonard Shelby in Christopher Nolan's Memento: "I'm not too good on the phone, I prefer to look people in the eye when I talk to them." So just to be subversive I'll contribute a song about not communicating via telephone. Let's all take our lead from Monster:

Don't answer the phone!

Call Me: Telephone

Shelby Lynne: Telephone

[purchase]

Sometimes it can be hard to end a relationship. You know it’s over, but you can’t quite take the action that would make it official, as if doing so would constitute a personal failure. At such a time, you might be tempted to call your former other at a time when you are fairly sure they won’t pick up. Then, you “tried”, and it’s not your fault. But be careful. Shelby Lynne tells what happens if they pick up anyway, and its not pretty. It is a beautifully rendered song though. Lynne’s seemingly calm delivery has just enough cracks to make this emotionally powerful.

Call Me: Under My Wheels

Alice Cooper: Under My Wheels

[purchase]

Religions pray for a convert like me. Six months ago I was quite happy with my pre-paid, minimal-minutes phone plan...

Weird circumstance, twin'd with ability, decided that I ought own some Smart Phone...

Now I have trouble waking up without looking at the thing, first thing.

Mostly I use it as a consumer of information... Looking at news, blogs, etc.,... but sometimes I use it as a telephone. Sometimes I get incoming calls, too.

Which wierds me out.

Back when I was a kid, taking calls on our family line always made me nervous. I'd hear the phone down the hall ring... some short silence, then muffled voices. Soft steps getting louder. Knock on the door: "Matthew! Telephone!"

Who'd want to talk to me, I'd trepidate.

I'd have to lift the needle off whichever Cheap Trick or Alice Cooper record I was listening to.

Same way, nowadays, though the delivery is different... a buzzing in my pocket.

But with Caller ID!

Parody and Satire -> Call Me: Fountains Of Wayne Hotline

Robbie Fulks: Fountains of Wayne Hotline

[purchase]

Our transition song this week was released as a one-off single in 2005, making it a bit more recent than we usually go for. But it was supposedly recorded as a private joke a couple of years earlier and then shelved for a long while before fan pressure prompted its release, and the songcraft it parodies has certainly been around long enough to count.

Full disclosure: I love Fountains of Wayne, especially 2003 hit record Welcome Interstate Managers, which is the same disc which Fulks and his band were listening to during the time they recorded this song in their friend's garage. [Ed: read more about the backstory here.] But Robbie Fulks' total breakdown of their formulaic approach to music is funny as hell, and a worthy addition to a vast and far-too-often underrated catalog which includes both the serious electro-pop satire of 2001 fave Real Money and such faux-country singalong love song hilarity as The Scrapple Song.

I have to admit, I'm not sure if this song is as funny if you haven't had college level courses in music theory. But let's give it a try, shall we?

Parody and Satire: Take a Look Around Mrs. Brown

Jeremy Spencer: Take a Look Around Mrs. Brown

[out of print]

I've mentioned this song before, but thanks to this weeks' theme, you can finally hear it.

Jeremy Spencer released his first solo album in 1970, while still a member of Fleetwood Mac. All of his bandmates played on it, and it's possible it was recorded to make up for the fact that Spencer didn't play at all on the Mac's then-recent Then Play On album.

It's basically a collection of rock'n'roll pastiches and send ups of Elvis, the Beach Boys, "heavy" blues, and more. "Take a Look Around Mrs. Brown" spoofs psychedelic rock, and after a dodgy start, it's spot-on.

Spencer was never much of a songwriter. His early contributions to Fleetwood Mac albums were largely Elmore James impersonations. When founder Peter Green left the band, Spencer and fellow singer/guitarist Danny Kirwin had to pick up the slack for Kiln House, and Jeremy's attempts at real songwriting are particularly weak. But his ability to mimic a variety of genres was always spot on.

Parody and Satire: Yuppies in the Sky

Tom Paxton: Yuppies in the Sky

[purchase]

In the 1960s, there were hippies. The 1980s had yuppies. It stands for Young Upwardly-mobile Professionals, and I was never clear on why it wasn’t yumpies. The idea was that the youth of that period were obsessed with the pursuit of material wealth, and with showing that wealth off with their conspicuous consumption. Yuppies would sport the latest technology, and would dress in a way that suggested they had attended ivy league schools. The mind set is still very much with us today, but the term has all but disappeared. Tom Paxton satirized the yuppies perfectly in Yuppies in the Sky, and the song also qualifies as a parody, since it is based on Ghost Riders in the Sky.

Parody and Satire: A Simple Desultory Philippic

Simon & Garfunkel: A Simple Desultory Philippic

Paul Simon: A Simple Desultory Philippic (Original Acoustic Version)

Purchase

Purchase original version

A Simple Desultory Philippic is a hilarious parody of the 60's and, more specifically, of Bob Dylan and his fans. Of this song, Paul Simon said, "This is, of course, a take-off, a take-on, a private joke, but no joke is all that private or any less serious for being a joke."

Dylan and his fans are most scathingly mocked in the middle section when Simon sings, in an obvious Dylan-esq whine, about a man who's "so unhip, when you say 'Dylan' he thinks you're talking about Dylan Thomas, whoever he was. The man ain't got no culture. But it's alright, Ma, everybody must get stoned!"

I think Simon keeps the parody at a humorous, as opposed to a personal or hurtful, level when he includes his own work in the list of things that he's sick of. "Been Roy Halee'd and Art Garfunkel'd."

Listen to the original version for alternate lyrics and a more mockingly authentic Dylan guitar riff.

Parody and Satire: Filk Songs

The Brobdingnagian Bards: If I Had 1,000,000 Ducats

[purchase]

John Anealio: Angels & Vampires

[purchase]

Filk Music is an eclectic genre based on that section of the bookstore which seems to think that fantasy and Sci-Fi are a single type of literature, and on those who ground their identity within the bookworlds which spring from those aisles. Its songs are not always parody songs by strict definition, and not always of the silly sort, but they fit the mold for the most part, in that they use the folk and bardic traditions to match existing melodies and songstyles with lyrics which tell of fantasy/scifi settings and, quite often, the particular worlds of a particular author or series. And though the internet has changed the anthropological ground for the filk song, spreading the songs farther than the late-night convention hallway circles where they were born, their lyrics and trope retain their casual, in-crowd nature.

For those who browse outside the SciFi/Fantasy shelves, and think of folk music as a narrow band of solo singer-songwriters with cheesy guitars, Filk may seem small indeed. To prove otherwise, today we bring you the filksongs of two very different musical acts: The Brobdingnagian Bards, my favorite pair of silly Celtic-slash-Renaissance Fair parodists, and Sci Fi Songwriter John Anealio, who doesn't actually self-define as filk, but tends towards electric poprock instrumentation and poignant community self-reflection much like the technologically-aware pop of Jonathan Coulton. Both are professional musicians, proving that there is a real market for this music even as the vast majority of filksong continues to come from amateurs in the community. And yes, both have written at least one song about Star Wars - though I think today's songs better represent the breadth of the genre in general.

Parody and Satire: My Old Flame

Spike Jones and His City Slickers: My Old Flame

[purchase]

I hope everyone knows who Spike Jones was. I grew up listening to his music, which, along with Tom Lehrer, was the closest we got to kid’s music in my house. But I realize that other people may have been raised differently. Spike Jones was a band leader in the 1940s and fifties who specialized in parodies of popular songs. My Old Flame is a perfect example of his method. For one verse and one chorus, Jones plays it straight, giving the listener a taste of what the original song sounded like. But then, all heck breaks loose. The music changes abruptly to a sort of mutant Dixieland. And the lyrics go completely off the rails, to humorous effect. Here, a mock Peter Lorre takes over the vocals, and he has trouble containing his unusual urges. This one turns up sometimes on Halloween compilations, so it seemed appropriate. I should note that Spike Jones’ songs may seem like simple novelty numbers, and it is easy to dismiss them as such, but there is actually a high degree of musicianship involved.

Incidentally, the image above is the cover of the album as we had it when I was growing up. However, following the purchase link will take you to an album with a different title and cover; it is the same album repackaged.

Discoveries: Not Pretty Enough

Kasey Chambers: Not Pretty Enough

[purchase]

I've told this story a hundred times over.  I've told it on my own site more than once.  I even got the chance to tell Kasey Chambers this story in person backstage at the Bijou Theatre in Knoxville in August of last year.

Still... for this week... for this theme... I feel the need to tell it again.  It's not just the story of how I discovered Australian songbird Kasey Chambers, it's also the story of how I came to discover Americana music in general, start working as an Americana DJ, start writing an Americana blog, and generally become obsessed the genre in general.

Here's what I wrote on my site back in September of 2008.

In the spring of 2002, I was working as a Graduate Assistant at Morehead State Public Radio in Morehead, Kentucky. I mostly worked in the newsroom writing news and sports copy and anchoring the occasional newscast. On Friday nights, it was my job to sit in the broadcast studio and make sure nothing went wrong while we aired a few nationally syndicated music programs. Essentially, I would introduce a program, do nothing for an hour, and then introduce the next program.

I spent most of those Friday nights chatting with friends on line, making fantasy baseball trades, or just reading and doing classwork. Every so often, however, I would actually listen to the shows I was airing. One night, on a show called E-Town, I heard the voice of an Australian country singer named Kasey Chambers. The down under twang in her voice was unlike anything I had ever heard before. I wasn't sure what I was hearing... but I knew I liked it.

The next week, I asked the music director at the station if he had ever heard of this Kasey Chambers person. He started raving about this thing called "Americana Music" and how great it was and how great Kasey Chambers was, and he gave me a copy of her CD, Barricades and Brickwalls that had just been released in the U.S. I still wasn't sure what this Americana thing was he kept talking about, but I took the CD home for a listen. I had no idea at the time what that CD would lead me to.

I pushed play and was immediately met with the ominous guitar riff of the title track followed by Kasey's distinctive vocal twang. I was immediately hooked. The song itself is a meditation on obsession. Kasey runs through a laundry list of things that have been placed between her and the object of her desires. Barricades and brickwalls, iron bars and big ol' cars, locked doors, screaming and shouting... nothing will hold her back. In the chorus, she makes her intentions clear by declaring, "I'll be damned if you're not my man before the sun goes down."

The rocking title track is followed by the softer "Not Pretty Enough" (the song that got my attention from the E-Town broadcast) and continues to mix ballads like "On a Bad Day" and "Nullarbor Song" with country weepers like "A Little Bit Lonesome" and "Still Feeling Blue" and alt-country blueprints like "Runaway Train" and "If I Were You."

Each time I listened to the disc and read through the liner notes, I heard something different and discovered something new. The album became my gateway drug into Americana music. It was my introduction to Buddy Miller, who provided backing vocals on "Runaway Train." I heard Lucinda Williams for the first time on "On a Bad Day." The album also introduced me to Gram Parsons with Kasey's cover of Parsons' "Still Feeling Blue."

Not long after I fell in love with the album, I discovered that Kasey would be appearing at a taping of The Mountain Stage just a few hours up the road in Charleston, West Virginia. Of course, I wanted to go see the show. I didn't even care that I also had to sit through listing to four other artists who I had never heard of. Of course... those artists turned out to be Laura Cantrell, Dar Williams, James McMurtry, and Rodney Crowell with Kenny Vaughn.

Holy Cow! How could one artist and one album expose me to so many other artists who would all become such staples of my music collection just a few short years later? I don't know... but Kasey Chambers did it.

I first heard Kasey Chambers and Barricades and Brickwalls in the early months of 2002. That summer, I began hosting Morehead State Public Radio's nightly Americana program one night a week. The story goes on from there. Who knows what might have happened to me and my musical tastes without this album?

Discoveries: You're Aging Well

Joan Baez with Dar Williams: You're Aging Well

[purchase]


Dar Williams: You're Aging Well

[purchase]


I am the coordinator/booker for my UU church concert series in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida (this is my sixth year)... and last Saturday night was beyond special for me - here follows my introduction of that evening's headliner, which speaks for itself regarding my discovery:

Everyone who knows me realizes I am not a 25-words-or-less woman and, given my love for the music and spirit of tonight's performer, I could easily wax poetic and forever – tonight... I promise brevity!

We all have those epiphany moments... when the metaphorical light bulb goes off over our heads and our lives are forever changed – mine occurred when I bought Joan Baez's Ring Them Bells CD in 1995 and listened to Joan duet with a then-unknown-to-me songwriter, who taught me that aging well was not an oxymoron. That song led me on a stepping-stone journey into the world of contemporary folk: involvement with my local folk community, making and meeting friends through music discussion lists, crossing state lines for shows and festivals, hosting house concerts in my living room... and these days presenting the Labyrinth Cafe. Tonight is a blessing and a joy and an honor... as well as a personal and professional dream-come-true – finally... the six words I've waited 15 years to say: Please help me welcome... Dar Williams!

[ The picture above is of the Barnes & Noble in Plantation, Florida, which was where I bought Joan Baez's CD when it was first released - I now have a B&N about 3 miles down the road, but at the time, this was the closest... and I had to drive 30 minutes to get my music fix! ]