When I was informed of the "Harvest" theme that was to take place these couple of weeks on Star Maker Machine, XTC's "Harvest Festival" immediately sprung to mind. And there's good reason for that: "Harvest Festival" is one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite bands. It features a gorgeous melody that builds from a simple piano to a full-blown symphony of sounds, Beatlesque in the best sense of the word. Its beauty and honest grandeur never fail to move me. If you'll forgive me a bit of overemoting, consider this: if you're not an XTC fan already, this may be one of the most beautiful pop songs you've never heard. I strongly encourage you to listen to it, not just read about it -- stop reading this now if you must, but listen. In what I consider the Spring-to-Winter cycle of Apple Venus, the 1999 album it comes from, "Harvest Festival" lands, naturally, at the beginning of Fall. After the buildup to Summer ("Green Man"), the bursting forth of the fruit ("Fruit Nut"), and being brought back to earth after a summer romance ("I Can't Own Her"), we turn once again to the serious business of harvesting the crops, returning to studies, and preparing for the chill of winter. In some cases this means formalizing romantic bonds with weddings. As XTC's Andy Partridge has said about writing this song, he commingled the ideas of the harvest festivals of his childhood in England with marriage. (The harvest festival in Great Britain follows the summer holiday as children return to school, and is traditionally held on or near the Harvest Moon, the full moon occurring closest to the autumn equinox. Students bring in produce to display, and then distribute it to local people in need.) In a way, the song exists in two times at once: in Andy's childhood memories, and in the future, when he and his classmates have grown. As "Harvest Festival" begins, the festival is called to order with a few piano notes and the sound of chairs sliding back as people stand (in this commingled imagining, both for the festival and for a wedding). Partridge recalls the beauty and tradition surrounding the festivals, mixed with the effects of youthful hormones kicking in, then moves forward through the end of those school years, losing touch, and then reconnecting as old schoolmates marry. In all, it's a cycle of life in terms of not only the harvest, but of growing up as well.
See the flowers round the altar See the peaches in tins 'neath the headmaster's chair Harvest festival See the two who've been chosen See them walk hand in hand to the front of the hall Harvest festival Harvest festival What was best of all was the Longing look you gave me That longing look More than enough to keep me fed all year [...] And what a year when the exams and crops all failed Of course you passed and you were never seen again We all grew and we got screwed and cut and nailed Then out of nowhere invitation in gold pen See the flowers round the altar See that you two got married and I wish you well
I think a lot of
folks came to Future Islands via The Late Show with David Letterman. It was the band’s Late Show debut and they put on a masterful
rendition of the hit single, “Seasons (Waiting on You)”—a buoyant, bouncy gem
with a church-hymn-worthy chorus and a soaring dance-infused rhythm. I fell in
the love with the song, and Letterman, ever a musical enthusiast and never one
to shy away from promoting the bands he believed in, did too. But it was more
than the song Letterman liked: lead singer and main songwriter Samuel
Herring is blessed with many talents, but his peculiar dance moves are more
akin to combat defense positions and he cuts quite a figure on stage.
Lettermen went a little nuts for Herring’s bombastic neo-slide
moves and the YouTube version of their performance went on the garner millions
of views. Views on YouTube have become a strange kind of modern currency, and
the more one has, the greater one’s prowess in the modern social media arena.
Or something like that—I had a kid in a summer class I taught tell me that he was a “famous YouTuber” and that he made
money from having so many subscribers to his channel. I went to his channel and
it was pretty much videos of him playing video games and putting his finger in
his nose for comedic effect. But, one of those legends along the bottom of the
screen did read that he had subscribers in the multi-thousands. And that
equates to money? I’m digressing, I know, but, wow—if all it takes to earn cash
these days is to put up poorly shit videos of bodily functions and boogers, then I ought to
be a freaking mogul…
So, Future Islands, an eclectic, North Carolina born, Baltimore
based synth pop band that is very worthy of accepting the throne from former
synth-pop greats such as New Order, rose to fame because their incredibly
talented singer/songwriter cuts a very strange rug? Yeah, that’s modern music.
No need to actually pay attention to the sound itself, the lyrics or the vibe
that gets spun by a group of musicians. Nope—just watch the video and click
like. It’s a sad kind of world we’ve created, and those of us who remember the world before the internet, lament the state we find ourselves in (even if it’s just
a sort of stasis, before we move on to the next fad). It seems sad and a bit incomprehensible to me that we can no longer rely
on great music (albums) to be enough if it doesn't come with some strange, and useless viral hype. This applies to new music, I suppose. And, not all of it, I know: I'm generalizing. But the changes that music industry has undergone are confounding, as well as myriad, and it seems odd to me that a song like Seasons grows a following because of social media, a phenomenon that is a far removed from music as can be... Seasons is a
gorgeous song—there’s no weird dancing in the video, and in the listening, we
can judge the band on its true merits. As we should. And we can love the song because we are moved
by what counts: melody, beat and soulful expression-what good music is really
about.
But, lest you think I’m a grumpy, pessimistic old man (I am,
don’t worry), you should know, despite the unwarranted attention Future Islands
got due to the goofy dance moves, Seasons went on to be named the best song of 2014 by the Pazz & Jop critics' poll in the Village Voice,
Pitchfork Media and Consequence
of Sound.
(Wikipedia)
purchase [ Old Man] Being of age 60+ (perhaps the fall of my life) and having worked for 40 years or more, it seems natural that I consider what I have sown and what I will reap at the end of the road.
I wasn't going to do a post about Neil Young's Harvest. It seemed so trite - theme: Harvest/Album: \Old Man/Song. However, someone needed to do the post for many reasons: because (more than my previous post about John Barleycorn being the quintessential Harvest song), this is the bottom line. There is nothing more fundamental than the album with the name of the theme, No? What say about an album titled Harvest with the song Harvest? It may be Young's best.
Of the 10 tracks on the album ... 1/2 of them are pantheon classics. Need I list them? No sooner had CSNY hit the top of the charts, than they began to fall apart. And, as part of this process, Neil Young (previously of Buffalo Springfield - along with Stephen Stills) was off on his own - I guess he was the first of the CSNY group to produce his own after the success of the 4-some, and t'was the Harvest album.
From the album, Heart of Gold may be my fave, but ... we need to focus on the harvest/fall aspect: Young's song about what you sow and harvest. (Old Man) may not seem at first to fit the theme. But I would contend that the back story to the lyrics is very much one about harvest - the end of a season, the reaping of what you have sown. I think that - on examination - you would have to agree that the deeper meaning of Young's lyrics are very much about harvesting what you have sown in your life.
Even beyond that - <take at look at> the power of this performance: maybe one of the best indicators of what Neil Young is/is capable of. The lyrics - if you dig - are phenomenal. Low key but powerful. The guitar is simple/basic, but powerfully on target - half way between folk and rock, soft and yet rough. I guess this is why he is at the top of the list of "the best". Sing: "Doesn't mean that much to me to mean that much to you"
Somehow, following on from the John Barleycorn post, and maintaining a similarly bucolic theme, this was the only and obvious choice. Surely a song about the mythological origins of ale has to be followed by the practicality of how large(r) scale production of one of the essential ingredients took place, at least until last century. Hopping here means the gathering in of hops, I am afraid, perhaps rather than the image the band's name might offer, that of a one-legged dance, not least as the consumption of hop based beverages might lead toward that and thence to entirely legless dancing. (Yes, oh my sides too.....) Here is an excellent website devoted to the yearly migration of an itinerant workforce down to the Kentish hopfields, Kent being the county at the far south-eastern tip of England.
As to the song itself, it belongs to the long and broad canon of that well known author, trad.arr., and has a lineage stretching back over the centuries, and has some history. I was a complete convert to ye olde english folk-rock back in my teens and onward, so anything residually Fairport Convention related was always going to be right up my street, and Ashley Hutching's various Albion (Dance/Country) Bands were certainly that. Hutchings, estwhile bassist for Fairport Convention, has an illustrious history, often cited as the Guv'nor or as the Godfather of Folk-Rock, given his seminal founding roles within both Fairport and with early Steeleye Span, ahead even of the ever changing and evolving Albion Bands. (Time and space neither allow much discussion, not least as I have covered similar territory at least once before.) However, I am today more interested in his sometime wife, Shirley Collins, as it is she who sings on the version above.
If Hutchings is the Guv'nor, then Collins is surely the Grande Dame, not only or even necessarily of folk-rock, but of the entire english living folk idiom, despite, to all intents and purposes, having given up performance some decades ago, itself a fallout of their acrimonious break-up. When Hutchings left her for a younger model, an actress actually, she developed the condition hysterical aphonia, putting an untimely end to her recording career and to live performance. This odd condition, whilst felt to be of psychological origin, is nonetheless completely ruinous and debilitating to anyone reliant upon their voice, as, curiously, was also the cause of Linda Thompson losing her voice under the similar circumstance of being deserted by her folk-rock ex, Richard (Thompson). (I have no record as to the fates of any other ex-spouses of current or previous Fairport members, but hope that current drummer, Gerry Conway, sticks with his squeeze, Jacqui McShee.) Collins' career began long before that of her onetime husband, unsurprisingly, being 10 years older. Steeped in the tradition from birth, her first appearance on record was in 1955, a year following her hooking up with celebrated US collector and cataloguer of american folk songs, Alan Lomax, director of the Archive of American Folk Song, with whom she later accompanied on his post-McCarthy witch-hunt return to the states. (This was the 1959 excursion that had led to the discovery of Mississippi Fred McDowell!) Returning, alone, to the UK, she reconnected her recording career, notably on the iconic jazz-folk fusion of "Folk Roots, New Routes", alongside the acoustic guitar wizardry of Davy Graham, in 1964. A track follows below:
Her next move was to enter into duet recordings with elder sister, Dolly, accompanying her on the intriguingly named portative organ, as well as, on her milestone release, "Anthems in Eden", the participation of David Munrow's Early Music Consort. Crumhorns afrenzy alert. Arguably this is what will have drawn her to the attention of Ashley Hutchings.
Fresh from his exit from Steeleye Span, Hutchings and Collins married in 1971, and he was responsible for the production of her next, nominally, solo album, "No Roses", albeit entitled as "and the Albion Country Band", a vast collective of disparate musicians from many fields. This included many of Hutchings' folk-rock compatriots, singers from Collins' more traditional diaspora and even Lol Coxhill, eccentric free-jazz saxophonist. I would say this recording is up there with "Liege and Lief" as being the most important of modern day folk records. Hell, in contemporary/modern music full stop. Especially this track below, up to anything ever produced in this style of music:
This was followed by a brief period of calm, as the married couple settled into acoustic folkie mode as half of the brief-lived Etchingham Steam Band.
Thereafter it seemed that the Albion brand became revived and moved on and away from her, more now her husband's baby than hers, in incarnations as "Dance" and "Country" versions, before ditching either description and sometimes even the "the" as well, sometimes again bringing one or other title back. In both acoustic and electric line-ups, at one time 2 simultaneous different line-ups, bar the omnipresent Ashley. True, Collins popped up occasionally, as in the title song of this piece, and in other Hutchings projects, notably "Morris On", until he popped off. She has since sung nary a note, but has toured with spoken word pieces. However, in February 2014 an audience were probably shocked and delighted to hear and see her perform 2 songs, having been coerced by and with the accompaniment by Ian Kearey, ex-Oyster Band.
Finally, and, as a final and hopefully happy coda, at the age of 81, she brings out her first album of new material in over 3 decades, "Lodestar". I for one cannot wait. Due out next month, this is fairly hot on the heels of this, a 3 disc tribute from artists as disparate as Bonnie "Prince" Billy (Will Oldham) and ex-Blur guitarist, Graham Coxon.
Buy? Too much choice, way too much choice, but here is her amazon page as a starter, which doesn't even include the titular track of this page. (Which is here)
P.S. Shirley Collins actually did go hopping down in Kent as a schoolgirl, picking hops for the Guinness brewers, her family making an annual tradition of this.
If you go way back into the SMM archives, you can see several posts about John Barleycorn - the song must be the first one that comes to mind about harvest and such.
Sad to say, back in those days, the Internet was a different beast: most SMM bloggers had side accounts at hosting sites and placed their music files there to share wi. But that all ended a while back. As a result, if you do locate those posts, the music is not available, and so, for that reason, an update. http://sixsongs.blogspot.com.tr/2009/09/autumn-and-harvest-john-barleycorn-must.html
My post is a version by the author himself, in the raw so to speak. the essence of the song. And it's good.
However: http://sixsongs.blogspot.com.tr/2014/07/john-barleycorn-reprise.html appears to still be a good link.
In our backyard, we have three raised beds, poorly built by me, and a couple of unraised beds (or should I just say “beds?” Sort of like calling grass “natural turf,” I guess). The newest raised bed got new, rich soil a couple of years ago, and whatever we plant in there tends to do well. The rest of the planting is kind of hit or miss. This year, for example, pretty much everything we grew in the other beds, raised and otherwise, were kind of disappointing. We got very few peppers, despite two waves of planting four different types. Our lettuces were not eaten, as they were last year, by a groundhog, but were pretty sparse. The carrots never came up at all. We harvested a single zucchini (zucchino?) before the plant succumbed to some sort of disease, which also seemed to affect the cucumbers, which were a shutout. Stringbeans grew, and we got a handful, before, it appears, a deer was able to knock down the netting and eat the plant. (Clues were nibbled plants, dislodged netting and a pile of deer poop).
We did get a good showing from the herb division, with parsley, sage, rosemary, and (wait for it), thyme all thriving, along with oregano, chives, mint, and for a brief spell, cilantro.
But, as expected, our most successful plants were in the new bed, which we planted with tomatoes and basil (apparently, you cannot plant mozzarella, and our yard is not big enough for cows, so our caprese salads this summer were not completely homegrown). The pesto, though, was excellent.
We had a bumper crop of tomatoes (see the picture above), and that was, mostly, a good thing. There really is nothing that can compare to the first ripe one that you pick. I love to pick one, slice it and put it on an everything bagel with cream cheese. I did say that it was “mostly” a good thing, because at a certain point, we had more tomatoes than we knew what to do with. I should have made batches of sauce, or fresh salsa, but I never did. Instead, I used tomatoes in every possible dish that I could, trying, unsuccessfully, to use them all before they went bad.
And then, they were gone. We had to stoop to buying heirloom tomatoes at the farmer’s market (which in these parts is called the “TaSh,” for Tarrytown and Sleepy Hollow). Then, a couple of weeks ago, a second wave began to ripen. Smaller, not as lush, but still tasty, they again all pretty much ripened at the same time, and I am again rapidly trying to use ‘em before I lose ‘em. There are a few more out there, so we might get a few stragglers until the frost, but I suspect that pretty soon we will be pulling up the plants.
My wife, who is the real gardener, and I have agreed that next year we need to amend the soil in the older beds, and hope for a better harvest.
Guy Clark’s deceptively simple paean (I word that I have never know how to pronounce) to the joys of “Homegrown Tomatoes” has been featured on this blog twicebefore, but not since 2012, and it fit the theme, so sue me (but remember that I am a lawyer, so I won’t be paying legal fees). It is a jaunty celebration of the pleasures of eating the titular fruit (tomatoes are fruits. Really.) As Clark sings,
Only two things money can't buy That's true love and homegrown tomatoes
Rolling Stone noted, “There are few songwriters in existence who can sing about something as simple as bacon, lettuce and tomatoes and make it sound truly poignant, not silly — and, certainly, Guy Clark was one of them.” Clark was one of the great Texas songwriters, although most of his “hits” were recorded by others. In fact, “Homegrown Tomatoes” is one of only three of his own recordings that charted on Billboard’s Country charts, but it continues to be a beloved song. And, what the hell, here’s another one of my favorite Guy Clark songs, the much-covered “Desperadoes Waiting For A Train”:
Unfortunately, Clark died back in May, just a couple of days after my dad, after a long battle with lymphoma, another casualty in this year in which we seem to have lost so many people whose lives were devoted to giving us pleasure.
Most of us would prefer to learn things the easy way, but life often doesn’t cooperate. As Tina Turner, a clear influence on Sharon Jones, memorably said in “Proud Mary,”
You see we never ever do nothing Nice and easy
Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings, in our featured song, recognize that sometimes you end up learning important things the hard way.
Jones and her band play music that is characterized as funk, or soul, or R&B, in a retro style that would not be out of place in the late 1960s or early 1970s, and they do it quite well. And “I Learned The Hard Way,” is a story as old as stories, about a woman learning about the hidden infidelity of her man. Some reviewers appreciate their talents and uncanny ability to evoke the sound of that era, while some others criticize them for supposedly lacking new ideas. But it is impossible to listen to their music without acknowledging its quality, the tightness of the band, and most of all, the powerhouse that is Sharon Jones.
Jones’ story is pretty well-known—Born in North Augusta, South Carolina to a mother who was acquainted with James Brown (who Jones would later be compared to because of the energy and power of her live shows), her family moved to Brooklyn when Sharon was a child. Jones, like my parents twenty years before, graduated from Thomas Jefferson High School, and like my father, attended Brooklyn College. A gospel singer from an early age, Jones performed and recorded secular music in the 1970s, with limited success, sang in wedding bands and worked as a Rikers Island corrections guard and armored car guard for Wells Fargo. Jones learned the hard way that major labels were not interested in her, not because of her singing, but because she was, as one executive reportedly informed her, "too fat, too black, too short and too old."
But she pressed on, and in 1996, she sang at a session for Lee Fields, run by Gabriel Roth and Phillip Lehman, who after recording Jones’ background vocals, recorded a couple of songs with Jones singing lead. These songs were later released on an album credited to the Soul Providers, members of which would ultimately comprise the Dap-Kings. Roth and Lehman went on to create Desco Records, which recorded and released more of Jones’ work, before the label shut, and its principals split. Roth then formed Daptone Records with musician Neal Sugarman.
At Daptone, Jones and the newly formed Dap-Kings, released two well-received albums, before her commercial breakthrough, the 2007 album 100 Days, 100 Nights, and its title track. I Learned The Hard Way, another critical and commercial success, followed in 2010 (in the interim, she worked with Lou Reed, David Byrne, Phish and Michael Bublé).
But then, just as the late-bloomer was at the peak of her career, and with a new album essentially ready to be released, in 2013, Jones was diagnosed with first bile duct cancer and then pancreatic cancer. Jones underwent surgery and chemotherapy, resulting in the usual sickness and hair loss.
During this time, legendary documentarian Barbara Kopple filmed a documentary about Jones and her fight against cancer, Miss Sharon Jones!, which premiered at the 2015 Toronto Film Festival. My wife and I had a chance to see the film this summer as part of a music documentary series at the Jacob Burns Film Center, and it is really incredible (and we got to hear a Q&A with Koppel). Not only is Jones’ story amazing, and her strength and courage remarkable, the film addresses issues like the effect on the Dap-Kings, who were losing their main source of income while Jones fought her cancer. There’s a great scene where Roth recounts his difficulty in getting a mortgage because of the publicity about Jones not performing, and other members of the band discuss the effects on them. Included in the film are scenes that show Jones, at her peak, showing her dynamic stage presence, along with more somber scenes filmed during her treatment and recovery. The movie ends in triumph, with the new album, Give The People What They Want, released, and Jones, weak, but unwilling to concede much to her limitations, performing at New York’s Beacon Theater before a packed house of ecstatic fans.
The soundtrack to the film is filled with older songs, but there is a great autobiographical new song, “I’m Still Here,” which I have posted at the end of this piece, because if you listen to it, you really didn’t need to read most of what I wrote:
Unfortunately, though, that isn’t the end of the story. Jones learned, presumably the hard way, that her cancer has returned, and she is again undergoing chemotherapy, while continuing to perform and record as best as she can. She remains undaunted, saying, "I have this saying: I have cancer; cancer don't have me. I'm gonna keep on going. I'm gonna take this medicine, and it'll be alright."
We were excited to see Jones and the band at the 2013 Clearwater Festival, but the appearance was cancelled due to her illness, and for some reason, we passed on seeing them at the Tarrytown Music Hall in late 2015. I do hope that her health improves, and that I someday get a chance to experience her live show, not only because it would be a great experience, but because it would mean that Jones, once again, triumphed over her cancer.
purchase Supertramp [The Logical Song] purchase Supertramp [School] Ah! Supertramp! One of my mainstay musics in the 80s and 90s. <Breakfast in America> and more. Co-founders Roger Hodgson and Richard Davies no longer collaborate, but in the prime of Supertramp, all their songs were marked Davies/Hodgson - much like Lennon/McCartney. They didnt see the need to differentiate. Today, it's rather different. Seems that Hodgson was particularly affected by the trials of his education (sadly, more often than it should be, it is a travail that one has to survive). Perhaps that is why so many of the the lyrics/themes of Supertramp songs include references to schools (and our themes of learn and teach). Sadly, school is a process of learn and pass (or fail)- a path strewn with adverseties (tests to pass, schoolmates with agendas, teachers guided by who knows what all ...) Hodgson was affected enough that he picked up the guitar and a certain amount of keyboard skills as well. See below... In examining the ills of educational systems, you can go back to the socio-political roots : a system that requires parents to work and are thus forced to send their kids somewhere during their working hours/ (ie: school) since they cannot care for them during those hours. You can look into the systems that describe the curriculum that your children are subjected to - from the spin on the history they learn to the scientific knowledge about global warming and evolution. Without advances in these areas, as Hogsden says, it equates to growing up just like the previous generation - a theme best put to word in The Logical Song (and apparently part of The Donald's platform: everything was better in the 50s). Most of us spend 12 of our first 20 years in school - trying our best to learn. Outside school, we continue to do our best to learn from both our parents and society at large. Today's up-to-date educators espouse "life-long" learning as the successful path to a profitable future. Sadly - it's a fact - statistics show that all too few people read more than a book a year - and watching The Donald on TV doesnt count as education. no more than discounting global warnming or evolutionary theory - despite what your Texas textbook writes.
purchase [Jethro Tull version of Teacher] purchase [Victor Griffin's In-Graved] Ian Anderson has said that Teacher is not one of his personal favorites. That it was written with the primary intention of generating a popular hit. He has also made it known that he never cared for the band's name: Jethro Tull (it was apparently laid upon them by their manager).
Things happen. Like in the story the lyrics tell. Unlike many popular songs, the story is a fairly straight-forward narrative: guy pays for a vacation travel for himself and a teacher, and the teacher has all the fun. I guess the narrator is left with a lesson or two: "jump up, look around, find yourself some fun ...", but in the end he admits "[I couldnt] ...find what [i] was looking for, got something on [my] mind...". It being the 70s when the US release of Jethro Tull's Benefit album with Teacher on it came out, the lyrics may have referenced a different kind of trip - certainly for many listeners, it did. In yet another stretch of the meaning behind the lyrics, one could argue that both teaching and learning are trips in and of themselves: processes that take people from one place to another. And yes, both words of our theme this time around are included in the lyrics. While Anderson struggles with health issues that severely limit his vocals, the group has found a way to work through it. However, Victor Griffin, previously of Pentagram, does the song like it was meant to be done.
Just like his
opener about New York City with its “hustle, bustle and pride,” Cole Petrone’s
original material on his “Songteller” album delivers plenty of lively snap and
satisfaction. His mature, multi-layered pop sound is both moody and moving. With
a little luck, Cole Petrone might just experience the same kind of commercial
breakthrough that James Taylor experienced in the early 1970s when he developed
a musical relationship between his own private expressions and the larger
concerns of his audiences. Based in British Columbia, Petrone considers himself
an amalgamation of both songwriter and storyteller. Thus, his album’s title, “Songteller,”
describes the musician’s approach as weaving a part of his life’s tapestry,
using words and melody to chronicle significant moments from personal
experience.
“What Can We
Learn?” doesn’t poke fun at the educated as much as it has a strong, broader
statement about being kind, courteous, considerate, respectful and
most-importantly open-minded to others’ opinions. The song’s bottomline is
“What makes you think you’re so smart?” Another question crops up in the
melodic “Little Did I Know,” when Petrone asks, “Why deny this love that burns
so bright?” as he sings with fond remembrance of that special someone who took
his breath away.
The upbeat “What
Can We Learn?” also include a small, understated horn section of trumpet, sax
and trombone. Born in Puerto Rico to an American father and Nicaraguan mother,
Petrone channels the same kind of sentiment as The Beatles’ “money can’t buy
you love.” He says he wrote “What Can We Learn?” while seeking to understand
his peers while working in Russia.
His album has
other highlights. Based on inspiration from a speech by Martin Luther King,
Jr., “I Have a Dream” recounts the orator’s famous words as Petrone calls for
freedom to ring and the voice of reason to belong to all the ages. Perhaps
inspired more by the songwriting of James Taylor, a song like “See You Again” is
a reflective outlook on life and love that was written as a tribute to his
father. Many of his songs also document the questions that Petrone contemplates
during life’s journey. “Angels Above Berlin” leaves us wondering why it took so
long? Petrone was living in Germany when the Berlin Wall fell.
His is an
interesting approach to songtelling that keeps us asking hard-hitting,
provocative questions. Inspired by a six-year-old boy at the Ronald McDonald
House, “Only Because” is a humorous take on the inquisitive mind needing real
answers about who, when, where and why. With a full palette of proficient
instrumental accompaniment including guitars, piano, organ, bass, drums and
more, Cole Petrone has created a praiseworthy project.
Closing the
album, “Should’ve, Would’ve, Could’ve” is a motivating reminder that we’d
better get busy, get productive, and enjoy life while we still can. The
question to reflect upon is “When they find their youth is gone, what will they
do with all that sun?”Cole Petrone is a
songcrafter that doesn’t simply rely on old standard clichés or the lowest
common denominator. He has enough years under his belt to confidently present
his world-weary wisdom. It’s sometimes whimsical, a little quirky, and
certainly quite fun. Check out his “Songteller” album on his website or at
CDBaby.
September is upon us and the Back-to-School commercials have
been diluting our regularly scheduled football games for weeks. For those of us
who don’t remember what visceral feelings the dread of the first day back to
school manifests, we’re left with the occasional nightmare of being late to a
class we can’t find or finishing an unending homework assignment while everyone
we know watches us fail. That can’t be just me, can it?
In my last years of public schooling, I was firmly
entrenched in music enlightenment from the likes of The Rolling Stones’ Sticky
Fingers, The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds, Bad Company and Boston’s eponymous albums,
The Essential REO Speedwagon, and The Beatles’ Revolver, but the music that
most vividly returns me to that time of my life is a band more my contemporary,
Brand New.
A rock band from Long Island,
New York, Brand New seemed to me to be one of the few bands at the time that
had a combination of the same themes I loved from the older music I was
listening to. They brought intelligent and understandable lyrics to a similar
spectrum that spanned from hard rocking to gentle ballads all while channeling
the sexiness of Mick in Miss You and the bedroom eyes of Kevin Cronin in Keep
on Loving You. Brand New’s second album, Deja Entendu was their crowning
achievement at the time and I still see that familiar astronaut from the album
cover, whether it’s on the CD in my car or the thumbnail on my computer.
In early 2006, while Brand New was working on their third
album, nine demo tracks were leaked on the internet. Untitled 02, later officially
titled 1996, is the song from the leak that most interests me. Even before the
first chorus, it’s a rare listener that doesn’t have a singular name for who
this song sounds so much like. That name, fans referred to the leaked song as
“Morrissey” until the official title came years later, is chiefly suggested by
the emotionally morbid lyrics sang in an unpredictable cadence that jumps from
meandering to syncopated sprinting and the heavily reverbed, almost sorrowful
guitar licks. After the flashback-inducing beginning, Brand New begins to
strengthen their own touch on the song by using their familiar guitar sounds and
a crowd-provoking chorus.
Admittedly a lyric guy, the most cerebral part of the
song for me is that chorus, a tongue-in-cheek, self-congratulatory toast to the
singer and his mourning friends: “And so three cheers for my morose and
grieving pals/and now let’s hear it for the tears that I’ve welled up/we’ve
come too far to have to give it all up now” The sentiment is possibly more
relevant than ever now that media spends more time discussing which celebrities
and politicians did or didn’t send their condolences after every death or
tragedy than on the event itself.
The song had still been just a demo all these years, from
the time I was a teen through the entirety of my twenties, until earlier this
year Brand New released 3 Demos, Reworked, an EP that contains three of the original
leaked demos and their new, re-recorded versions. Unfortunately, some of my
favorite words were changed in the reworked version and a lot of the grit and
edges have been sanded down. I suppose that’s a metaphor for time itself and
the notion that one can get a clear look into the past.
Yes, those Searchers, 12-string wielding pop group from Liverpool, who, following in the merseybeat jet stream of the Beatles, were 2nd band from that city to have a hit in the U.S. (OK, 2nd equal, as the Hippy Hippy Shake by these guys also made the hot 100 that day in March 1964, but that was their sole hit and had nothing to do with nine or with september, this fortnights assignment.) So what had the Searchers to do with nine or September? Have patience and listen to this song, which doesn't, but was their 1963 debut single, a cover of an original by the Drifters, worth a listen if only to confirm the consistency of sound across the decades:
The remarkable thing about the Searchers is that, despite you, or your parents, only remembering their early 60s output, they are still going strong. Or, still going, anyway, and with sole first to last man standing, John McNally, plugging away on guitar and vocals OK, it is a while since their star was high in the firmament, but the cabaret and nostalgia circuits will still produce an audience, eager to revisit a youth, however distant.
Their heyday produced a glut of singles, all made distinctive by the harmonies and chiming electric 12-string guitar, widely attributed to the Rickenbacker model, and which preceded and arguably influenced Jim McGuinn, as he then was, of the Byrds and their sound. Intriguingly, as I prepared this piece, I discovered that, despite active promotion of this mythology, maybe that is what it was, certainly to begin with. Here is latter-day guitarist, 1969 onward, on the subject.
OK, to task, here is a song relevant to topic, number 3 in the US, their take on Lieber and Stollers chestnut, 'Love Potion Number 9':
OK, so not such a great song, or not one I am fond of, but it kept them in the charts, their run eventually dwindling as the 60s petered out. But then a remarkable situation took place a decade or so later, when Seymour Stein, a longterm anglophile music fan, signed them, in 1979, to his Sire label, possibly odd label mates alongside the Ramones and the Talking Heads. That was enough to jog my attention and I kept an ear open. Still the jangle, but now morphed into a new-wave sensibility, the choice and covers and image keel-hauled to have a more contemporary appeal. I bought into this, as the songs and sound were sturdy enough to hold muster against newer upstarts. I even bought their ever so nearly hit single, 'Hearts in Her Eyes', which has a pleasingly Dave Edmunds/Rockpile vibe. I bought the album too and commend it, from which my 2nd contrived link to this weeks subject arrives, another version of the song celebrated by Andy de la Raygun below.
After that? Sadly nothing. After 2 fairly well-received albums, on the verge of their 3rd, Sire got bought up and the Searchers were dropped back into the chicken-in-a-basket circuit, where they still plod on. I guess it's a living but the shame is immense. They were stars once, given the chance of being contenders again and it was shattered by the vicariousness of the biz. Pity. I wish 'em well.
purchase [Hey Nineteen] I have always liked Steely Dan. Becker and Fagan, whatever the critics say, have always hit the right spot with me: a mix of rock and jazz that is right down my alley - I think some folks call it jazz rock. Some be-little it. Sure, I know the critique that their compositions can't be played live without lots of backup support, and, yes, that is an issue. Of limited import. Their compositions are primarily studio based. They've played with some of the best session musicians and produced so many classics that it really doesn't matter if the two of them (because that's all that Steely Dan really is) can't reproduce the identical album recordings on stage without assistance. So what? Their hits are classic - they stick in your mind for decades (Yes, it has been decades) and ring true as memes for generations 30 plus years forward. Here is an interesting piece about them that you might want to peruse - no point in my repeating/copying what someone else has eruditely scribbled. But look at their lyrics: irreverent but relevant. That's 'Retha Franklin She don't remember The Queen of Soul irreverence: She don't remember what? Relevance: she is the queen of soul
In terms of musical discovery, I find myself often turning
to the influences of those who influence me. Reading about an artist’s musical
education often effects my own explorations into past genres and movements. In
a beautiful, somewhat karmic turn, the influences of my influences become my
own influences.
I find musical biographies the most interesting way to
discover new, or otherwise unheard, music.Digging deep into the history of music is as interesting and digging
into actual, archeological history: what you find from the past informs the
future. That’s why Magic Sam is almost daily listening for me. That’s how I
discovered the Red Dirt Music movement, Jimmy LaFave, Stoney LaRue, and Jason
Boland.
In the same vein, I love a good name drop in songs. A few songs come to mind: Adam Duritz
lamented Richard Manuel’s(The Band) suicide
along side the metaphorical impermanence of his own life in If I Could Give All My Love. John
Mellancamp is pretty big name dropper (R.O.C.K
in the U.S.A). The Gaslight Anthem’s Brian Fallon has made a brilliant
career out of not only name-dropping, but wholesale lyrical montage, or is it
collage, by taking lines from famous rock songs and seamlessly weaving the
lyrics into his own. And, as we shall explore further later on, Paul Westerberg famously paid reverential homage to Alex Chilton and declared we could all use a ‘little Big Star” in the class ‘Mats track, Alex Chilton.
I’m spanning across some divergent ideas here, but the point is:
I feel listening to an artist who really moved you necessitates digging into
their musical heritage. The same holds true for contemporary artists who run in the
same packs. But, this is September, and history class is in session, so let’s
dwell there, back there, not in the back of the classroom, but in the stacks.
Dust off your vinyl, pull out your vintage t-shirts that you bought when brand
new and let’s talk about a band I have always loved, to a degree, but have a complicated relationship with: I'm talking about the aforementioned Alex Chilton's Big Star.
I came to Big Star, and Alex Chilton, because of Paul Westerberg and The
Replacements. Big Star, I know a little about; The 'Mats? I worship at their altar, so it was almost a necessity that I dig into someone they wrote a song about.
But, as often happens, one man's treasure doesn't always turn out to be the same or the next. The reason I say my affinity for Big Star is complicated is
simple: like a lot of short lived bands, their catalog runs the entire spectrum
of absolute greatness to songs that, while I might not call them bad, do probably speak
to why they never hit it bigger than they did. They wrote great songs, and they put of some junkers. I feel a band like The Who
exists on the same level: some of the greatest rock songs ever written and
some of the worst. Literary minded folks could say the same for say, Charles
Dickens. Big Star has that appeal and occupies that strange place between
greatness and…mehhhh. The great stuff
is just that; a lot of the rest of it is filler, at best.
I think that inconsistency has kept me from making a total embrace. But this is also me being utterly, assholishly subjective...I've had this discussion about the Grievous Angel, Gram Parsons. I think his short lived career was marked with nothing but brilliant, but I know a lot of folks thinks Return of the Grievous Angle is the starting and stopping point when it comes to evaluating his output.
Add to the fact that the hipsters have gotten ahold of Big Star (at least their t-shirt) which
makes any relationship to a band, movie, book or whatever a heck of lot more complicated.
Big Star's Alex Chilton is an
eponymously blistering tribute to one of Westerberg’s heroes. The lead singer
of Big Star, Chilton never hit it huge, or as huge as he probably should have,
but he was a critics darling, and many a rocker’s legendary founding father of
power pop. You’ve heard Big Star, for sure, but a lot of you (not you, SMM
readers), might not know it. Their most well known track owes its celebrity to
serving as the theme song to That 70’s Show. In the Street. Google “Big Star Hanging Out”—you’ll know exactly
what I’m talking out.
While Big Star had many great songs, my favorite remains,
and believe me, this doesn’t put me in unique company—a lot of people love this
song—September Gurls. It’s a
brilliant, chiming, churning pop gem, as great a radio song as I’ve ever heard.
It makes its way onto almost all of the mixes I make, and I can't think of a song I
more want to hear when I’m sipping drinks on a summer day.Or that goes better with any beautiful girl you fall in love with, even if it's from across the room or jsut walking down the street. September Gurls is two minutes and 56
seconds of a pop jewel in the crown of love songs. And will always be the soundtrack for a heart that breaks way too often at meeting, and losing, one of many girls from one of many dreams.
It was never a big hit, but September Gurls makes multiple lists of greatest pop songs ever.
The Bangles covered it on their 1986 LP Different
Light, and much in keeping with the theme of this post, it was their version that led
me down a long path to Big Star (influences of influences, remember?). Though I
should state that since I was listening to The Bangles, in 6th grade,my musical tastes hadn’t
quite refined yet to the point where I would not listen to The Bangles. The Replacements followed within a few
years, after I’d grown a little more discerning. Yet, now that I’m even older,
I can kind of get down with The Bangles, and see they had some great
songs—their cover of Simon and Garfunkel’s Hazy
Shade of Winter has a fiery snarl that the original folk duo could never
have achieved…not that they needed to, but again, I love seeing how the
influence of a precedent setting artist informs the later one, and how
different the sound becomes.
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