Scrabble Value Letters (Q): Question

Old 97’s: Question [purchase]  

Rhett Miller: Question [purchase]

The song that I chose gives me a couple of things to write about, neither of which is really about the song, although we will get to that eventually.

First, as someone who loves to listen to music, it is important to me that my family also loves to listen to music, and that turned out to be the case. My wife has often said that she knew that we were truly a couple when we alphabetized our albums (vinyl!) together. As I have previously pointed out, our musical tastes are somewhat different, but the overlap in our Venn diagram (called the “intersection,” according to Wikipedia) is big enough that we rarely fight about music. I do complain sometimes about getting snared in the sticky trap of my wife’s favorite Sirius XM’s “The Bridge” soft-rock station, and she complains about some of the harder edged things I like, and some of the jazz, and some of the prog, but we have a nice sweet spot of common likes.

When we had kids, we heard horror stories of parents being “forced” to listen to children’s music in the car, and in reaction, I created mixtapes that included the occasional kidsong along with good grownup stuff. And when our children became old enough to have their own tastes, we tried hard to be supportive. I never told my kids that something they liked was crap; instead, I tried hard to say what I liked and what I didn’t, and I think that helped. Both of my kids have turned me on to bands that I truly like, and in some cases I introduced them to artists that I liked, and they loved, which led me to appreciate them more.

The Old 97’s is a band that everyone in my family likes, and for good reason—they are great. We’ve seen them live and enjoy their great mix of Texas twang, power pop, clever lyrics and tight playing. I’ve previously written about how and why we became fans, so I won’t belabor the point, except to reiterate how great it is to share the love of music with your wife and children.

The second thing I wanted to discuss is what I will call the self remake, for lack of a better term, where an artist releases a different version of one of their own songs. I’m not talking about a live version, but when an artist takes a song and releases it changed in some way. The Rolling Stones, for example, released “Country Honk,” which completely reimagined “Honky Tonk Women” in an interesting way. Other times though, doing this leads to failure. The Police decided to re-record the perfectly fine, if creepy, “Don’t Stand So Close To Me” for a greatest hits compilation, and the newer version is just not good. Not only that, according to drummer Stewart Copeland, his fight with Sting over what synthesized drums to use on the track (the right answer would have been “none”) was the last straw in breaking up the band. Other artists have remade their own songs for copyright reasons and/or to just revisit older work with the perspective of a long career, such as John Prine or Loudon Wainwright III.

The original version of “Question” was released in 2001 on an Old 97’s album, Satellite Rides, in a very stripped down version with just Miller’s voice and acoustic guitar. The simplicity of the music fits well with the straightforward message of the song—that there is a time to say yes to love. The question at issue is a proposal, and this version was used in the TV show Scrubs when Carla says yes to Turk. People even propose on stage at Old 97’s shows when the song is played.

Personally, I like the original version, and despite my love of covers, I really see no reason why Miller needed to do a new version of the song on his 2006 solo album, The Believer (along with a new version of “Singular Girl,” a Satellite Rides bonus track). It isn’t bad, but it adds a wholly unnecessary keyboard part, and other additional production that doesn’t add to the song. I suspect that if I hadn’t heard the original, I’d love the remake, but I have, and the remake is kind of superfluous. When the whole band plays the song live, they still keep it simple, but sometimes Rhett gets fancy and sings some of the song in French, which I guess is the language of romance, but kind of makes Miller look like a show off.

Scrabble Value Letters (Z): Zawinul/Lava

Brian Eno: "Zawinul/Lava"
[purchase]

Brian Eno has been an influence on me since before I even knew who he was. As an extremely amateur high school hard rock musician, I sought early exposure through the freshly founded GarageBand.com (which later licensed its name to Apple for use on recording software). At that time, one feature the site offered musicians was to have uploads critiqued by professional musicians. During the registration process, users scrolled through an extensive list of names to choose from. Being the ignorant, malleable ball of brain clay that I was at the time, I only recognized one name on the list, and I couldn't quite put my finger on where I had heard it before: Brian Eno.

That was the name I picked, and it went absolutely nowhere. In truth, I couldn't tell you if I even ever got around to uploading any music for Eno to theoretically review. If that had happened, who knows what interests I would have taken in music. My grunge-inspired teen angst would certainly not have been received well by the god of ambient music. And negative feedback at that volatile time in my life could have instilled in me a permanent aversion to Eno's snooty sounds.

Thankfully, nothing went down that way. My tastes in music have continually evolved, and my appreciation for John Cage's aleatoric music and Brian Eno's Oblique Strategies methodologies have rooted my endless fascination with new sounds. The ambient and minimalist compositions of Eno, Harold Budd, Erik Satie, Moby, Steve Roach, and Klaus Schulze are now the regnant (though often unnoticeable) backdrops to my daily activities.

By the time he released Another Green World in 1975, Eno had already established himself as a musician through Roxy Music and two other solo albums, but with each album, he further explored the ideas of ambient music. This single song, appearing near the end of side two of the record, was a landmark experimentation in minimalist soundscape, standing distinct from the other upbeat, funky riffs surrounding it.

Scrabble Value Letters (Q): Questions 67 & 68

Chicago: Questions 67 & 68
[Purchase]

I actually bought this album when it first came out. I was in a boarding school just north of Philly in the early 70s, and my friends and I would ride the train into Philadelphia and .. buy records and stuff. It's a long time back, but my recollection is that there was this place called Tower Records, not far from the train station downtown, and LP costs were something like $7.99, $8.99 ...

Chicago Transit Authority came into being during that period in American history when youth protest was almost the norm (was it only me and my friends? Is the thought of acceptable protest worth a pause in your view of history?). For various reasons, their message and sound mellowed relatively quickly. They ran into legal issues related to their use of the Chicago train system's name, and their musical sound turned more towards their harmonied horns than piercing guitar solos. However, more than one of their original songs made the "Top" lists (and obviously enough money to keep the brand name running to this day.)

There are better versions of the song out there, but I wanted one that was close to the original: "Chicago" is still touring - in one iteration or another, but it isnt the same. At least not to me.

In the linked clip above, we've got the original band including lead guitar by Terry Kath, who sadly died quite early and - if I am not mistaken - Peter Cetera doing the vocals. If the YouTube credit info is accurate, it is from their earlier days: the dancing in front of the stage as well as the costumes seem to support the time stamp!

This wouldn't normally be my first choice for a Chicago tune, but it fits the Scrabble Theme running for the next two weeks: starts with Q.

Winter Games: Curling

[purchase a book about curling strategy]

Every two years, I find myself getting into a debate about whether particular sports deserve to be in the Olympics or not. Now, I understand that every Olympic event requires some degree of skill and athletic ability, but it does somehow seem odd that there is rhythmic gymnastics, synchronized swimming, ice dancing, shooting, yachting, dressage and trampoline, but no baseball, softball, football, lacrosse, cricket or squash. And it is a travesty that tug of war was dropped after the Antwerp games in 1920. There doesn’t really seem to be any rhyme or reason to how the sports are selected, leading to interminable discussion on the issue. It reminds me of something that I recall Bill James, the great baseball sabremetrician, wrote about the Baseball Hall of Fame—essentially that the standard for election was being elected. (I have looked online for the quote, but haven’t been able to find it.)

Personally, I have a problem with judged sports because the standards are so arbitrary, and the judging is always so controversial. I understand sports where the first person across the line wins, and those where the team with the most points comes in first. You don’t lose the downhill because you looked awkward. No one says that a particular goal is worth more because it was scored after a spinning move, or less because it was accidentally scuffed in. I know that all sports have judges, refs or umps, but they enforce rules, not decide artistic merit, which is and of itself is subjective.

So, based on my criteria alone, curling is a very worthwhile sport. There is a scoring system based on points, there is no artistic judging, and it even has a tradition of sportsmanship that exceeds many others. It requires incredible strategy, practice and skill, and athletic ability. On the other hand, it is not the most popular sport around, and, worse, it is reminiscent of a game played by retirees at the Del Boca Vista. Every 4 years, I watch, fascinated, at the games, learning again what the “button” is, why the “hammer” is so important, and how to determine “shot rock.” Not to mention, I like saying “bonspiel.” I can’t seem to figure out the strategy though--to make another Seinfeld reference, they always do the opposite of what I think.

You wouldn’t think that curling would inspire many songs, but you would be wrong. Here’s a link to “Ten Great Curling Songs,” including the one in the video above. And here’s another. And another. There’s even a book called “Curling Songs and Poems.” Poems!! And if that isn’t enough, here’s an epic ten and a half minute video for a song by LMFAO all about curling—even if they don’t get all of the rules right.

 

Winter Games: Snow Brigade

Mew singer Jonas Bjerre. Photo Credit Bill Ebbesen 

"Snow Brigade" fan music video.

Mew: Snow Brigade
[purchase]


This song is always the first that comes to mind when I think of snow songs. I have to admit, that's not very often, nor had I ever even considered the existence of a genre such as "winter pop" until I scoured the internet comments and forums for discussion of this song.

The ever-enlightened, scholarly groupmind of SongMeanings repeatedly amuses a connection to cocaine, but I can't find anything in the lyrics that clearly prompts such an interpretation on a basic level. With hints of depression, failed communications, a frustrating relationship, and the importance of the season's change, this song is an unreceived broadcast to a partner with Seasonal Affective Disorder.

Mew's homeland of Denmark has a relatively cool climate with heavy, wet winters, during which the daylight time dwindles to just about seven hours—not nearly long enough to even get to enjoy a single, cold moment of sunshine for those of us running on U.S. cubicle work hours. Seasonal Affective Disorder can carry a person's mood quickly into a new personality, a slow shift that grinds the gears of a relationship's communications.

"In winter you're an affliction," the singer of this song tells their partner. There's an argument brewing. Jealous accusations of new interests and demands for evidence. "Enable [me] to bring out the something you want to know beneath the snow," the singer tells the accuser. "Bring out the someone you want to see for jealousy."

Things end on a sour note. The singer's "arms retreat," as the option of immediate reconciliation fades, and the only option is to try again on another day: "I'll find you somewhere / show you how much I care / know that there is no / escape from my snow brigade."

This was the first Mew song I ever heard, and it turned me instantly into a fan. Although the album I've most fallen in love with (2009's No More Stories Are Told Today I'm Sorry They Washed Away No More Stories The World Is Grey I'm Tired Let's Wash Away) sounds very little like other entries to their catalogue—including this song—both styles fit with their own moods, allowing me to enjoy Mew on even more occasions.

Singer Jonas Bjerre's voice carries the same shrill, tenuous beauty of a tightly-tuned violin string, simultaneously raising the listener's hackles and petting them on the head. This is undoubtedly the first thing that catches the newcomer's ears, but underlying musical experimentations that combine, at times, elements of progressive metal, ambient, noise, and indie pop should not go unappreciated.

Capable of producing albums of catchy singles, like 2003's Frengers, Mew also demonstrates clear understanding of the capability of the album itself as a limit, as No More Stories... and their 2005 album And the Glass Handed Kites both construct single-song façades through the use of song transitions and titular divisions.

Taking theme to the screen as well, Mew enlisted the aid of director Martin de Thurah to deliver a trio of music videos for singles on their release of No More Stories...: "Introducing Palace Players," "Repeaterbeater," and "Beach."

Winter Games: Hockey Skates

Kathleen Edwards: Hockey Skates
[purchase]

It’s not that I don’t like hockey, but I just never got into the habit of watching it. I grew up watching baseball, basketball and football, and hockey wasn’t something that we followed in our house, although my father tells stories about going to the old Madison Square Garden when he was in high school to watch double headers for like a nickel. When I do watch hockey, I recognize that it is exciting, and the few games I have been to are great, and I find that I enjoy the games best during the playoffs, or the Olympics, when fighting takes a back seat to skating. Of course, I was very excited by the “Miracle on Ice” (which you should read about here). And I loved Slap Shot. Hockey may also be the sport that benefits the most from HDTV, because you can actually follow the puck.

My siblings and I all grew up in the same house, and while my brother and I became rabid sports fans, my sister never got the bug. I have no idea if my parents did anything differently to cause that, but I have found that my daughter is less of a sports fan than my son (except, to some degree, when it comes to soccer). But life has a way of throwing curves (to use a baseball metaphor, because I’m not familiar enough with hockey to know if there is a similar hockey phrase), and my sister has a boyfriend who is a rabid hockey fan and a son who is less interested in sports than her daughter. Seeing pictures on Facebook of my sister in a Rangers jersey at a game has brought me much amusement. But it is important in a relationship to support your partner’s interests, which is why my wife has found herself at more Mets games than I think she ever anticipated, and I have certainly seen more choral music than I ever imagined.

Of course, if you are Canadian, hockey is ingrained in your culture. It is actually the state religion, set forth in the Constitution (no, it isn’t). And it is not surprising that Canadian singer Kathleen Edwards uses hockey references even in songs that aren’t about hockey at all. Often compared to Lucinda Williams due to the similar quality of their songwriting, their twangy sound, and less than perfect voices, Edwards is a great talent in her own right. In the song “Hockey Skates,” Edwards’ narrator describes an unsatisfactory relationship and says, with resignation,

I am so sick of consequence and the look on your face 
I am tired of playing defense 
I don't even have hockey skates 

You don’t have to be Don Cherry to understand what she means.

Another great Edwards song that references hockey without being about hockey is “I Make the Dough, You Get the Glory,” in which the narrator unfavorably compares herself to her fellow band member with a series of clever comparisons—

You're cool and cred like Fogerty I'm Elvis Presley in the 70's 
You're Chateauneuf, I'm Yellow Label 
You're the buffet, I'm just the table 
I'm a Ford Tempo, you're a Maserati 
You're the Great One, I'm Marty McSorley 
You're the Concorde, I'm economy. 

Here, she is comparing herself not to the all-time great Wayne Gretzky, but to his teammate, the grinding enforcer, McSorley. The video for this song is fun, and features a hockey match that includes Edwards, members of her band, Blue Rodeo singer Jim Cuddy, former NHL players Paul Coffey and Brad Dalgarno, and, yes, Marty McSorley.

Winter Games: Snow (Hey Oh)

 

 
Red Hot Chili Peppers: Snow (Hey Oh)
[purchase]
 

 
 
Despite news reports questioning the amount of snow that can be expected in a seaside resort town, the Sochi Olympics are off and running. The stadiums are full and fake snow covers the slopes. In honor of the event, for the next two weeks, your dedicated SMM bloggers will be coming at you with songs about Winter Games in various guises.
 
The YouTube clip here is a live version of Snow by the Red Hot Chili Peppers playing at Abbey Road studios. The lyrics to the song include an oblique reference to our theme of winter sport:

... it's so white as snow

Running through the field

Where all my tracks will be concealed

Questions of concealment have been another news issue leading up to the Sochi Olympics: Russian authorities clamping down in the hopes that whatever evils lurk concealed, they don't hide their tracks.
 

Gravity: Switchfoot

Switchfoot: Oh! Gravity
[purchase]

I spent quite a few hours defying gravity in flying metal birds these past two weeks: 2 3-hour flights and 2 10-hour flights. As a result, I am only able to post a short item, and that at the last minute before we move on to our next theme.

There are more songs titled Gravity than I had imagined. There's a John Mayer tune. And one from Sara Bareilles. And then there's Coldplay as well. In general, they agree that gravity brings you down. On your knees.

Digging a little deeper, I came across yet another Gravity tune by a band I had never heard. Switchfoot comes from San Diego, California: the band's name is apparently a surfing term. They've been around for the better part of 15 years. Whereas the above linked songs are more subdued, romantic (grave?), this Gravity song punches and kicks.

GRAVITY : LIKE TEENAGE GRAVITY

C'mon, quick, quick, very little time left this theme, courtesy the inclement we have been receiving this side of the ocean, seemingly blowing away bits of the inter web. Already delayed by my sinuses being struck by the gravity* of a distant planet, sucking my brain down between my shoulder blades and mulching my synapses, great gaps in blogger dashboard (tech speak!) appeared, denying my ability to put the words and pictures together. And may still. So before it is the tomorrow that is already today in UK, grab your anti-gravity broom and we're off…….

*Gravity (SWIDT), time/space continuum, weather, all the same stuff, really, so quite apt for the given. I know the idea is to studiously avoid the too recent, but seeing as we have largely jettisoned pressing the DL button, I hope I can get away with this fairly recent.

Who's heard of Kasey Anderson? Yeah, me too, but I have heard of Counting Crows, and a year or so back they put out the now near inevitable covers LP, some might say as a way of filling some hiatus in creativity. Actually, that's probably unfair, as they are a band who have always celebrated the songs of others live, and can do it rather well, extracting even more pained pathos than many a songwriter may have realised was possible. Consummate instrumentalists, of a generally organic and Band like feel, with hammond, mandolins and accordions topping up standard guitar, bass, drums, yet topped with the exquisite angsty yelps of Adam Duritz, rendering even Michael Stipes more melodramatic moments to monotone. Yes, I'm a fan.

Kasey Anderson sounds to have had his share of, um, issues, with a stability of mental health and well-being failing to be granted him. I had never heard of him ahead of the Crows. (The Countings?) But, with the wonder of wiki, the earnestness of AMG and the yikes of youtube, I was able to build a picture. He seems to have started as a plaid shirt troubadour, in that Steve Earle/John Mellencamp meeting place, as they each traversed their opposite routes between rock and country, garnishing some good reviews, before beginning to, critically at least, unravel. What Teenage Gravity is, and hence what it is like, remains resolutely unclear from the song, in either version, so I am neither the wiser, nor, at my distance from my teens, able to begin to guess. But it sounds good as a conceptual vagary. The 2 versions are considerably different, and I am uncertain which I prefer. However, what I have to note is the impeccable intro on the cover version, lulling me into a reverie akin to early Fairport and Richard Thompson, just a roll on the drum and all that. Wonderful.

For me, that is all the gravity needed.

Kasey Anderson purchase link

Gravity: Defying Gravity

Cheryl Wheeler: Defying Gravity

Jesse Winchester: Defying Gravity

[purchase]

When released in early 2005, dreamy electric guitar tones opened the 44-minute "Defying Gravity," singer/songwriter Cheryl Wheeler's first studio album since 1999. It was interesting that she chose to title the entire album with the only track that she didn’t write herself – Jesse Winchester’s “Defying Gravity” at track six on her album. 
 
While a singer/songwriter could fall into the trap of rushing out mediocre material to meet self-imposed deadlines, Cheryl's didn’t rush out with “Defying Gravity.” Like Winchester, she’s also known for masterfully crafted songs with colorful lyrics color and intriguing auralscapes. Some of her songs are somber meditations about life, and the “Defying Gravity” CD's jacket gives us all the lyrics to read and reflect upon.
 
Sung from the heart, Cheryl's themes revolve around loneliness brought on by the death of her father ("Since You've Been Gone"), heartache ("Must Be Sinking Now"), and inner turmoil ("Beyond the Lights"). "Summer's Almost Over" is a sad nostalgic tale of a season changing and time passing. "On the Plane" and "It's the Phone" are both funny and cynical pieces that were recorded live at The Bottom Line in New York.
 
With wry wit, she's full of humorous lines like "The air that you're breathing's been re-circulating since Orville and Wilbur were boys..." And the song is nice respite even though it was dropped from her set list for quite some time following 9/11. “Alice" describes a hardworking Minnesota campground host and hotel desk clerk who is full of wanderlust. An instrumental, "Clearwater, Florida," allows Cheryl to showcase her fine and delicate fingerpicking.

Somewhat of a concept album, "Defying Gravity" has a more laid-back and somber tone than some previous releases. She seems more serene, thoughtful and introspective with this project. Tasteful use of guitar, percussion, bass, vibes and keyboards permeates the instrumentation.

"Defying Gravity" is a very strong album with plenty of good lyrics and music to ponder. After listening to a nostalgic closing piece like "Blessed," one will want to reflect upon their own childhood memories and of Jesus and his love. Cheryl Wheeler succeeds in motivating, inspiring and entertaining us with her music. And doesn’t every struggling singer/songwriter have a goal of “defying gravity” to succeed in a rough musical environment? Well she clearly has, and now it’s clearer why she may have titled her 2005 album for that Jesse Winchester cover.     

Gravity: Top 5 Gravity Tunes of the Indie 80's

[Purchase]

In the 1980's most indie rockers didn't dwell on love songs. To truly provide an alternative to the crap on mainstream radio, they had to sing songs about rain, the elements of earth, wind and fire... and gravity. The natural phenomenon" by which all physical bodies attract each other " was a good metaphor for the subjects of Michael Jackson and Madonna songs, but when indie rockers sang about gravity, it just sounded a whole lot more intelligent.

Here are the top 5 "Gravity" songs from the Indie 80's.

"Gravity is bringing me down..."

#5. New Zealand's Tall Dwarfs with "Gravity" from the Homestead sampler Human Music.

"Gravity blocks my screams..."

#4 Basketball Diaries memoirist Jim Carroll and his band's "Wicked Gravity" from Catholic Boy

"And Gravity don't mean a thing..."

#3. Talking Heads "I Get Wild/ Wild Gravity" from Speaking in Tongues.



"Gravity is pulling me around.."

#2. R.E.M. "Feeling Gravity's Pull" from Fables of the Reconstruction

 

"You can not move; you can not dance..."

#1 Pylon "Gravity" from Gyrate

Gravity: Gravity by Barnaby Bright

Barnaby Bright: Gravity
[purchase the Gravity EP]
[purchase The Longest Day (which also has the song)]

Last weekend, I was sitting in a church meeting room listening to two musicians make truly wonderful music. This experience was shared by 25-30 people, and between sets, we were able to chat with them, and ate pot luck snacks. Tomorrow night, the Grammys will honor, for the most part, music that isn’t nearly as good as what I heard from Barnaby Bright last weekend, much of it made by acts that play before tens of thousands of fans at each performance. I know that music isn’t really a competition, and I know that the vagaries of fame has been a common theme of my writing here, but I guess it just galls me that bands such as Barnaby Bright are traveling around, playing churches and small venues, sleeping in fans’ houses to save money, while lesser talents have their own jets and probably complain about the thread count in their hotel’s sheets.

What does this have to do with gravity? I could try to argue that there is gravity in this situation, but that would be a stretch. In fact, I thought of this theme at the show last weekend, when Becky Bliss, one of the married couple that make up Barnaby Bright, introduced this song, and joked that every band has a song called “Gravity.” And while that may be hyperbole, I have 13 distinct songs with the word in the title in my iTunes library, which is a pretty fair amount.

The members of Barnaby Bright are originally from Kansas, who came together for good, personally and professionally, in New York, which is why you sometimes see them referred to as being from Brooklyn (I guess that also gives them some hipster cred. Maybe they would be more famous if Nathan Bliss grew a big shaggy beard, and they wore vintage clothing). Becky has a simply beautiful voice, and when I saw them, she also played keyboards, harmonium and baritone ukulele. Nathan sang harmony, played the guitar and percussion and managed all of their many effects. I understand that he also plays many other instruments. They write separately and together, and their songs have won many prestigious songwriting contests. At the show, they mentioned that they were moving to Nashville, and maybe that will help them get more notice.

“Gravity” is a wonderful song, written by Nathan. It was a finalist in the 2012 Mountain Stage NewSong Contest, which led to a performance on that venerable and respected syndicated radio show. It uses gravity, and related concepts such as falling and weight, as a metaphor for the experience of breaking up.

I’m sure that most people who read this blog—you know, the kind of people who are interested enough in music to read unknown writers opine about the subject—have played the game where you think of a favorite, lesser known band that sounds kind of like a more famous band, and wonder why their levels of popularity are so different. Playing here, I thought of The Civil Wars, a fine act, which like Barnaby Bright, features a man and a woman who write beautiful songs, and perform them beautifully. And I suspect that if I randomly played Civil Wars songs and Barnaby Bright songs for you, you might be able to tell them apart by sound, but not by quality. (It turns out that I’m not the only one—Google the bands’ names together and you will find a number of other people making the comparison).

In fact, The Civil Wars’ excellent breakthrough, Barton Hollow and the Barnaby Bright EP Gravity both appeared on Amazon’s Best Albums of 2011, a great achievement for any artist, when you consider all of the albums released each year. But Barton Hollow was number 5 (and won 2 Grammys) and Gravity was number 91. Interestingly, Barton Hollow has a song called “Falling,” which has a similar theme to “Gravity.” To these ears, both of these songs are of a similar, high quality. What do you think?

European Road Trip: Going To…..

[purchase one of the albums that one of these songs is on]

I went a long time on this blog without repeating bands, but it gets harder and harder to find things to write about without going to the same source, so I sort of gave up on that. I wrote about The Mountain Goats a couple of months ago, but this theme made me think of that band again.

Among the many quirky things about John Darnielle and The Mountain Goats, and there are many, are that they have a number of song series. There is the “Alpha couple” series, the “Orange ball” series, the “Pure” series, the “Song for” series, the “Standard Bitter Love Song,” series, the “Aztec” series and the “Biblical” series. But my favorite is the “Going to” series, which includes more than 40 songs, each entitled “Going to” a place. The songs are, generally, about the feeling of trying to improve your life by going somewhere, although they often are about how that rarely happens.

The series includes songs about places from all over the world, ranging from Marrakesh to East Rutherford, New Jersey, from Santiago to Port Washington. There are a number of songs about places in Europe, and rather than try to delve further into the twisty mind of Mr. Darnielle, I will simply post a few videos, and let you draw your own conclusions. And if you want more information about these and other Mountain Goats songs, check out here and here.

Going to Bridlington:

Going to Utrecht:


Going to Scotland:


And how could I leave out Going to Spain?

EUROPEAN ROAD TRIP: ITALY

What if we went to Italy: Mary Chapin Carpenter
Purchase it here!

Have to confess the idea of a road trip to europe seems somewhat less exotic an affair over this side of the pond, not least as, I guess, I'm already there. Or is it here? Whatever, avoiding the temptation to go all "one europe" on you, I will bow to the expectation that we talk of continental europe, Le Grand Tour if you will, the cultural fleshpots, predominantly, of France, Italy, Spain. Germany too, I guess, Greece, Portugal. I'm uncertain whether Romania, Luxembourg and the others will get much action, but all this uses up my word count, and I note Turkey has had a shout below.

So what were my options? I seem to have covered many of the artists I could have called upon, so Spain and France were already taken, which is a shame, as they are my two favourite mainland destinations. I've only actually been to Italy perhaps twice, taking in whistlestops of Rome, Venice and Florence, each of which have made me want to spend more time exploring, much more time. I also have very little italian, but I can shrug emphatically, which is often sufficient. And I have seen a lot of Robert de Niro films, so I reckon I'm halfway to fluent.

And it's the food, of course, pasta, pizza, risotto. Who can possibly eat better than the italians? (Well, apart from the french......)

So to the song, whose lyrics seem to expand on a similar ambivalence, accepting that a little love and knowledge is near sufficient to blend in unobtrusively:

                                         "I still can't speak any Italian
                                  But words are replaced under Siennese skies
                                  By nothing so much as a nod, and a sigh, and a wish to be                                           always like this"

 I have always felt that Mary Chapin Carpenter has one of those voices, smooth and warming, with an undertone of honey and molasses. I reckon she could sing the phone book with a conviction that could entrance. This is, it's true, one of her slighter efforts, but take in the tones, listen to the lilt and explore into her still expanding catalogue. I recall a TV show with she, Rosanne Cash and Nanci Griffith playing in turn, the other two being then much better known, but eclipsed by this new kid on the stool. Since then she has ploughed a solid furrow in that hinterland of country and folk, with songs often seemingly tinged with personal regret: the press suggests a life that has had it's share of upset and upheaval.

Does this song make you want to cross the ocean? I don't know, but I would.

European Road Trip: Istanbul Grey

 

Robert "One Man" Johnson: Istanbul Grey
[purchase: from Amazon]

 

I present a one-of-a-kind clip produced just for you here with the express permission of the composer/musician: Istanbul Grey.

If you’re going to do a European Road Trip, you might as well go all the way to the edge. Istanbul: neither East nor West. Neither Europe nor Asia – a unique city that straddles both.

That seems to be part of Robert “One Man” Johnson’s quest: originally from the US, his music encompasses the rest. Robert  Johnson has done more than one “Road Trip”: Asia, Europe, the US. He’s put out a number of albums. More or less on his own. I’d be surprised if you had ever heard of him, but that's your loss: until now.

While in Turkey, he paired with – among others- Erkan Ogur, who plays the fretless guitar solo on this piece.  Here Erkan does an interpretation of a well-known Turkish folk song as part of his his solo. As for RJ: he's been on the road all over and I couldn't name them all: Istanbul, Shanghai, Yanbu, Bangkok ...

Having retired from many years teaching English all around the world  (and using his musical skills to do so), Robert is devoting more time to his music and "Housedogmusic" brand.

The “One Man” moniker derives from his unique ability as a one-man band: simultaneously singing, playing the guitar, percussion (high-hat) and a unique foot piano. All at the same time. Many/most of his instruments are home grown or highly personalized. To learn more, you can check his web site out here.

They call it "full disclosure" : A few years back, I managed to convince him to return to his roots for the Robert College Fine Arts Festival and he did me the return honor of calling me to the stage (here)

European Road Trip: Truckin'

Grateful Dead: Truckin'
[more free media from this same concert @ the Internet Archive]

Give or take a year, most aficionados (even Deadheads) would probably agree that 1972 marks the high point of the Grateful Dead’s career. Always renowned for their live shows, they toured (western) Europe in 1972, and came out with an album – actually a double/triple album (depending on the medium) - appropriately named  Europe ’72.  

By ’72, the Dead had refined their sound/show. That said, while it was billed as a “live” album, the originally marketed version of Europe ’72 was heavily over-dubbed before it was released. Personally, I don’t think that the dubbing detracts from its value: quality music doesn’t always have to be “pure”- as in “live only” – just so long as it isn’t billed mistakenly. In this case, for a “live” recording, the quality is darn good: they took some quality equipment on tour with them and the studio dub after the tour seems to have enhanced the result. 

Although the band remained quite active, releasing new albums into the 90s, most living members staying and playing together until Garcia’s death in '95, the death of “Pigpen” in 1973 may have been the start of the end. He was an eratic member of the band: kicked out, brought back, and while he was in the band, an integral part: many live shows concluded with what was his "signature" piece: Turn On Your Lovelight

Their music from the period exudes a sense of unity and harmony (both in terms of aural and aura/karma) that goes beyond the vocal harmonies: they sound comfortable and happy. More often than not, they even manage a loose jam that is fairly coherent/cohesive (a major feat, perhaps, considering the reputed extraneous influences).  

Truckin' may have been one of the band's lasting memes: the image on the cover of the band epitomizes the idea: a "cat" moving on- on foot. Originally released on their "American Beauty" album in 1970, the song has been accorded the status of "national treasure" by the Library of Congress.

For more details about the dead, check out one of the best Dead-related online links I have ever seen: http://deadessays.blogspot.com/

European Road Trip: King of Spain

The Tallest Man on Earth: King of Spain
[purchase]

One of the casualties of having children in college, and a mortgage, and a house renovation, and……is that my wife and I haven’t traveled as much as we would like. Now that I have one kid out of college and another heading toward the finish line, maybe that will change. Of course, much of that hinges on the success of my start up law firm, so who knows. One of the most important lessons that I have learned in my half-century plus is that plans are meant to be changed.

So, the European road trip theme is kind of bittersweet, because while there are more than enough possible songs out there that fit the theme, when I try to make it personal, I realize how I would like to have had more such road trips. And I recognize that I am luckier than most, because I have been able to see many of the great sights of Europe, but travel is so wonderful that it is hard ever to be satisfied.

I have previously written about my family’s trip to London back in 2000, when we saw Richard Thompson perform, and I have written twice about our trip to Amsterdam in 2007, when we saw The Decemberists. Now, I’m looking forward to the first week in February, when my wife and I are heading to Barcelona to visit our daughter, who is studying there this year. I’ve even written about a song about someone else’s Spanish vacation (but now I am actually going to get one).

I was last in Spain in 1976, when I was in high school. We got a flyer in class for a meeting for a trip to Spain, and I mentioned it to my mother, not expecting much. The next thing I knew, we were at a meeting, checks were written and shortly thereafter I was on a plane. It was a great trip. Our small contingent was connected with a much larger group of students from different parts of the country. I’m pretty sure the statues of limitations have lapsed on the truly negligent behavior of our chaperones, who looked the other way at rampant underage drinking and fraternization between teenagers with raging hormones. But beyond that, we saw a great deal of the major attractions of the country, from the south to Madrid. Franco had died only the previous year (and remained dead, as we were often reminded by Chevy Chase), and the country was slowly emerging from his oppressive rule. I’ll never forget seeing the Guardia Civil, who were considered instruments of Franco’s tyranny, walking the streets with automatic weapons and their silly three cornered hats. Coming from suburban New York, it was a shock to see this kind of open display of guns, a feeling I didn’t get again until September 11 in New York City.

We never went to Barcelona, which in those days was not the tourist attraction that it became, before the recognition of Catalonian autonomy and the 1992 Summer Olympics. But now, Barcelona is considered one of the must-see cities in Europe, for the sights, the culture and the lively nightlife. I’m looking forward to not only seeing my daughter, but also this great city. In preparation, I’ve been brushing up on my Spanish, using an online site that occasionally has thrown me some odd sentences to translate (“I am in the witness protection program,” for example), and am also trying to pick up some Catalan from another site (which is much harder since I am coming at it without any background).

So, in honor of our impending European road trip, please enjoy “King of Spain,” by The Tallest Man on Earth, who is actually Swede Kristian Matsson and is only about 5’7”. As I previously mentioned in one of my Decemberists pieces, the Dutch are actually the tallest people on Earth. And to add one more connection, my wife and I caught part of a set by The Tallest Man on Earth on an American roadtrip in 2012 to the Newport Folk Festival, but I don’t recall if we heard this song, because it was pouring rain.

In Memoriam: Kevin Ayers and Peter Banks

Soft Machine: We Did it Again [purchase]

Yes: Beyond and Before [purchase]

As we wind down the In Memoriam theme and move on to (I hope) happier discussions, I decided to wedge in another pair of tributes, this time to musicians who played on early albums by prog bands, and then left. In both cases, the bands reached significant popularity after their departure, while the musicians went on to long careers, mostly under the mainstream radar.

Let’s start with Kevin Ayers. Born in England, he was raised in Malaysia, and seemed to have taken a more stereotypical tropical approach to life. An early member of what later became known as the “Canterbury Scene,” he joined the Wilde Flowers, sort of the “mothership” of the scene. The Wilde Flowers split, essentially forming two bands: Caravan and Soft Machine, in which Ayers played bass and guitar, sang and wrote songs. Initially Soft Machine also included Robert Wyatt on drums and vocals, Daevid Allen on guitar and Mike Ratledge on organ. Unfortunately, after some gigs in France, Allen was refused entry back to England, so he stayed in France and formed Gong (which turned out pretty well for him).

As a trio, Soft Machine toured the United States, opening for Jimi Hendrix, a pretty good gig, I’d have to think, and recorded their first album, The Soft Machine in New York. The album, which is as much an odd psychedelic album as it was a proto-prog rock collection, is one of those albums that is considered very influential but is probably rarely played, and that’s too bad. The track featured above, "We Did it Again," was written by Ayers, and he sings lead. You can hear the diverse influences, including blues, psychedelic rock and prog, in the song. Imagine, if you can, hearing it go on for 45 minutes, in 1968, at a concert, especially if you were under the influence. Apparently, it was an almost religious experience.

Later, in 1968, Soft Machine recruited a guitarist named Andy Summers to replace Allen, and he toured with the band on some more American dates, including opening for Hendrix again, before Ayers had Summers fired. Summers, of course, did fine for himself, joining a little trio in 1997 called The Police.  (There must not have been hard feelings between Ayers and Summers, who later played with him).

Ayers, however, decided the touring grind was too much, sold his bass to Noel Redding of Hendrix’s band, and went off to Ibiza to hang out with Daevid Allen. I have to believe that the gentlemen enjoyed themselves pharmacologically, as befit the times, and Ayers wrote a bunch of songs that are featured on his first solo album. Through the next decades, Ayers recorded and toured with a wide variety of musicians, releasing uncategorizable albums that delighted and confounded the music world. Interestingly, one of Ayers longest musical collaborations was with guitarist Ollie Halsall, the mostly uncredited guitarist for the Beatles parody band The Rutles.

Ayers rarely seemed interested in commercial success, and he never had much, due to his musical tastes, laid back personality and, unfortunately, substance abuse issues. In the late 1990s, Ayers reappeared, but it wasn’t until 2007 that he released The Unfairground to critical acclaim and, of course, few sales. He died on February 18, 2013 in France.

Soft Machine, in Ayers’ absence, with a regularly changing cast of members, moved gradually away from psychedelia and prog toward fusion (but generally the interesting kind, especially the fascinating Third album). Allmusic considers them to be one of the more influential bands of their era.

Peter Banks was the first guitarist in Yes, and appeared on their first two albums. Was he a good guitarist? A couple of influential DJs from the BBC refer to him as the “Architect of Progressive Rock.” Gibson Guitar named him as one of the "10 Great Prog Rock Guitarists." So yeah, he was. The song above, "Beyond and Before," is the first song on the first Yes album, and Banks plays the first note, and follows that with some fine playing. So, what happened?

Artistic differences, of course. Yes was formed in mid-1968, and the initial lineup was Banks, Jon Anderson on vocals, Chris Squire on bass, Tony Kaye on keyboards, and my favorite drummer, Bill Bruford. Of course, they needed a name, and after considering Anderson’s suggestion, Life, and Squire’s suggestion, World, they agreed on Yes! (suggested by Banks, and including the exclamation point). They began to perform live, Bruford decided to quit the band and return to university, but luckily was lured back. In 1969, the band recorded and released a self-titled debut album (without the !), consisting of original songs, and two covers. Although the album failed to chart, it received generally positive reviews.

The band began to work on its followup, Time and A Word, but Anderson and Squire wanted to use an orchestra, which was still kind of a radical idea. Banks wasn’t pleased by this in theory, and when he found out that the arrangements were going to pretty much replace him (and Kaye), he became really miffed. The album was released, it did O.K., although there were some negative reviews of the use of the orchestra, the band did a tour, and the disgruntled Banks was given the boot. He was replaced by Steve Howe. (Kaye lasted one more album (The Yes Album, the band’s commercial breakthrough) and tour before being replaced by Rick Wakeman).

After a while supporting others, Banks and Kaye reunited to form Flash, which not surprisingly sounded like Yes and had minimal success in its short life, after which Banks worked as a sideman, appeared on tribute albums and released solo material (check out this one featuring Jan Akkerman of Focus, Phil Collins, John Wetton and Steve Hackett). He wasn’t even part of a Flash reunion in the early 2000s. but toured and released an album in 2006 as part of a band called Harmony in Diversity. He passed away on March 7, 2013.

Of course, Yes went on to enormous fame, with an oft-changing revolving door lineup (that, however, never again included Banks). Their most recent album featured only Squire from the original lineup, and they still tour regularly.

In Memoriam: Donald Byrd

Miles Davis flirted with fusing jazz and funk on his 1972 album On The Corner.  Donald Byrd--who died last February at age 80  - had a full on menage a trois with the two and became one of the most successful jazz crossover artists of the Seventies, beginning with 1973's Black Byrd.



Byrd began his career as a highly sought after trumpeter during the Be Bop era. He played with George Wallington, did his spell with Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers ( '55-56). His "Cristo Redentor", from 1963's A New Perspective,  fused jazz and gospel.





By the 70's, after Curtis Mayfield, Stevie Wonder and Marvin Gaye had proved Soul Music was an art form, Byrd embraced funk. The tunes on Black Byrd have a groove. Some have lyrics. (Marvin Gaye recorded "Where Are We Going?" a year earlier). The result was the Blue Note label's best selling album ever... at least until Norah Jones came along.




While the R and B community embraced Byrd, the jazz world did not. As Byrd said in a 1982 radio interview:

“The jazz people starting eating on me.They had a feast on me for 10 years: ‘He’s sold out.’ Everything that’s bad was attributed to Donald Byrd. I weathered it, and then it became commonplace. Then they found a name for it. They started calling it ‘jazz fusion,’ ‘jazz rock'."




His group made up of Howard University students, The Black Byrds, eventually recorded on their own and had two notable pop hits: "Walking In Rhythm" and "Rock Creek Park". Hip Hop artists sampled his music ( favoring 1975's Places and Spaces over the 1973 album)

But it all started here with Black Byrd.

For a great feel about Byrd's career and a few portable tunes, check out this  Soul Sides.Com's article.

In Memoriam: Storm Thorgerson and Arturo Vega

[purchase The Gathering Storm - The Album Art of Storm Thorgerson]

[purchase the iconic Ramones T-Shirt]

They were both artists, they were both influential in the music world, and they both died in 2013. But Storm Thorgerson and Arturo Vega were also very different, in their lives, in their art and in the music that they were associated with.

Thorgerson was born in England in 1944 and was a friend of Syd Barrett, Roger Waters and David Gilmour. He was a graduate of the University of Leicester and obtained a Master of Arts degree from the Royal College of Art. In 1968, he founded Hipgnosis, a graphic arts company, and Thorgerson and the company designed many of the most iconic album covers of the 1970s and 1980s, regularly for prog rock groups. The cover of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon, designed by Thorgerson, is often considered to be the greatest album cover of all time. Thorgerson’s work frequently was surreal, with sharply focused and well lit figures in bizarre or unexpected situations. Back when an album cover was a relatively large surface, Thorgerson’s designs were definitely a lure to record store browsers. And if you were someone who partook of psychedelic substances, they could be looked at for hours in an attempt to unlock their meaning. Or so I have been told.

It would take too long to list all of the incredible covers that Thorgerson had a role in designing and creating, but to list a few (other than most Pink Floyd covers)—Led Zeppelin’s Houses of the Holy and Presence, Genesis’ The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, Yes’ Tormato and Going for the One, the first three Peter Gabriel albums, and albums by Renaissance, Brand X. 10cc and The Mars Volta. And I am probably leaving out your favorite. It was not, however, all classic rock or prog—his portfolio included covers for Ian Dury and the Blockheads, The Cranberries, The Cult, Megadeth and The Offspring.

In addition to designing album covers, Thorgerson directed music videos for artists such as Yes, Robert Plant, Pink Floyd and Nik Kershaw.

Thorgerson suffered a stroke in 2003 and later battled cancer, which claimed his life in April, 2013.

Arturo Vega’s career may not have had the same broad scope as Torgerson’s, but his work, primarily for The Ramones, who rejected all of the pomp and excess of many of the bands that hired Torgerson, may well be as influential, and probably sold more t-shirts. But art isn’t a competition (unlike, apparently, cupcakes).

Vega was born in 1947 in Chihuahua, Mexico, but moved to New York in his early 20’s to try and become an artist. New York at that time was not the chain store paradise that it is today, and the early-1970’s music scene that grew out of bands like the Velvet Underground were spawned from grungy, dangerous downtown neighborhoods which are probably remembered more fondly now than they were back then.

While living in a loft in the East Village in 1973, Vega met Douglas Colvin, who complemented the music on Vega’s stereo. Colvin later morphed into Dee Dee Ramone, and Vega became known as the “Fifth Ramone.” In addition to often feeding, housing and supporting the band, Vega was what would now be called a branding consultant. He helped to develop their look, their lighting, and, most of all, designed one of the truly great rock band logos ever. The faux presidential seal, featuring an eagle holding an apple branch (to signify that The Ramones were as American as apple pie) and a baseball bat (in honor of Johnny Ramone’s favorite sport), with a “Hey Ho, Let’s Go” banner in its beak, surrounded by the names of the members, is not only instantly recognizable, it represented a subtle, if unmistakable “fuck you” to the establishment.

Vega claims to have seen all but 2 of the bands 2,200 plus live shows and sold t-shirts with that logo, which helped to support the band when they weren’t selling that many albums or tickets. He continued to sell Ramones shirts and memorabilia, and his logo became a badge of coolness, even with people who weren’t even born when The Ramones broke up. Although Vega worked with other musicians, he will always be identified with The Ramones, and without Vega, The Ramones might never have survived to become a force that changed music forever.

He died, of undisclosed causes, in June.