Discoveries: Cold Wind to Valhalla

Jethro Tull: Cold Wind to Valhalla

[purchase]

If you have read a number of my posts, you know that I grew up listening to FM radio in the 1970s. If you remember those days, you may want to know how I can call Jethro Tull a discovery. Isn’t that like saying you discovered breathing? And why didn’t you post Aqualung? Surely that was the first Jethro Tull you heard? Indeed it was. Let me explain.

This week, we have seen that there are a number of ways to discover music. A song can follow you around. You can read about it in a newspaper or magazine. You can win tickets to a show. Or a friend can make introductions. In my life, there was another route to musical discovery, a big one. I married it. If you care deeply about music, you are going to marry someone who does too, at least to some extent. Or so it was for me. When we decided to join our lives together, we also joined together our record collections. Now I had heard Aqualung long before, as I mentioned. I didn’t like it. I dismissed the song as hard rock, and I never bothered to find out what else Jethro Tull might have done. But my wife did before we met. As she learned my musical taste, she began to insist that I had to hear their albums Songs From the Wood and Minstrel in the Gallery. Finally, I did, and I was amazed. The lyrics, while not strictly authentic, were steeped in the mythology and folklore of the British Isles. And the music took the ideas of folk-rock as pioneered by Fairport Convention and Steeleye Span, and took them to the next level.

Cold Wind to Valhalla starts as a folk piece, and then turns electric. But notice how the electric guitar is mirrored by a fiddle. It sounds kind of hard-rockish, but there is more to it than that. Cold Wind is on Minstrel in the Gallery, and musically, it is the perfect bridge from what I thought I knew about Jethro Tull to what I discovered.

Incidentally, the image I have chosen for this post is obviously an album cover, but it’s an odd shape. That’s a cassette cover. To this day, we only have Minstrel and Songs on cassette. Luckily, we still have something that will play them.

Discoveries: Rid of Me

PJ Harvey: Rid Of Me

[Purchase]

I have a confession...

I don't have a time line of discovery and growth like many of you. Since I was old enough to sing along with music I've liked the same thing...catchy pop or rock songs, preferably with female vocals. I often am frustrated with myself because I can't seem to go the extra length to give the same effort to finding good new music with male vocals as I do to the ladies. I try to quell my frustration over this by remembering that there's a lot of people that are the opposite of me, that discount musicians because they ARE female, and therefore it's good to have a few people like me around to even the score. As it is, when I visit blogs I often will scroll through and pause the longest for those with band photos with women in them. I've even found some male vocal bands simply because there's a female in their band and therefore I gave them a try...sad, I know, but when there's as much new music out there on the internet as there is these days, you find whatever ways you can to narrow down the search for something you'll enjoy. And hey, maybe that's just my thing, and everyone has their thing.

There was a time when I didn't even realize this about myself. It took a male acquaintance in high school to bring it to my attention. It's senior year, the seniors have a lounge area to themselves where they can spend their free periods, otherwise known as study halls, and I have my CD folder out and am paging through. The guy asks to look at it. He pages through at it and says "so you only listen to girls?" and I am surprised, why would he say that? And he continues "every CD in here is by a woman". I seriously hadn't noticed. So he says he only has one female artist in his collection but that she's amazing because no other female artist he's heard has the seething power he likes (his favorite band was The Jesus Lizard) as this lady and asks if I've heard of her, it's someone named PJ Harvey. I hadn't. So he gave me his headphones and played me a song. At the time I wasn't sure what to think, I hadn't heard anything like it before. It took me a few years to finally get one of her CDs, and then another, and another...you get the idea. This was the song he played me.

Discoveries: Empty Pages

Traffic: Empty Pages

Purchase:

I hope FiL doesn't mind me copying his flow chart - a good idea is a good idea, so here's mine:

Bee Gees / Elton John > The Clash / The Specials > Dylan & the 1970's > Everything Else

Each of these periods has discovery moments that I could write about and talk about for hours. For this post I'm going to focus on the third phase of my musical development. I was introduced to the music of the late 1960's and early 1970's when I was a freshman in college. I had been steeped in all things punk, post-punk, and new wave for the previous several years, and it was time for a change. The music scene was getting stale as the edge wore off of bands like The Cure and R.E.M. and other bands like The Smiths simply broke up.

At this time a couple of us took a road trip to Salt Lake City to visit a friend who had previously lived in my hometown of Fresno, California. While we stayed at this friend's house we got to know his incredibly cool father. I couldn't believe a dad could be like this! He watched the best movies, he listened to great music, and he had an excellent and decidedly irreverent sense of humor. He may not have been the best dad in the traditional sense, but he sure was fun to hang out with.

At one point during our visit my friend's father gave us a cassette tape of Traffic's album, John Barleycorn Must Die. As we drove north on I-15, at almost exactly the point pictured above, we slid the cassette into the car stereo.

Most everyone reading this is familiar with the feeling that you occasionally (rarely, actually) get when you hear new music: Oh man, this is good. I'm going to want to pursue this!

That's the feeling I got when I heard track one of John Barleycorn. I purchased the album the moment I returned home. This album led me to Dylan, Simon & Garfunkel, Neil Young, The Who, and eventually to our blog-mother Joni Mitchell. I spent the next several years listening to music produced from about 1968 to about 1974. John Barleycorn was a deep vein that paid dividends for years to come.

Discoveries: Hungry, So Angry

Medium Medium: Hungry, So Angry

[purchase]

I haven’t listened to the radio in quite some time. Do they still have those contests where the seventh caller wins a prize? In the 1980s, I listened to college radio, courtesy of WPRB out of Princeton University. In those days, they played a lot of punk, which I didn’t like and still don’t. But they also played some new wave that was strange enough that even MTV wouldn’t touch it. (For our younger readers, yes there was a time when MTV was all music videos, and they played things commercial radio tried to ignore.) Anyway, WPRB had those give-aways I mentioned, and usually the prize was an album or tickets to a show. They started playing this song by a band no one had ever heard of, Medium Medium, The song was Hungry, So Angry, and I loved it. Looking back at it, I can describe it as a funk song with new wave style vocals and a dissonant sax part. At the time, I just knew that it really cooked. So, one day the DJ had a contest. The prize was Medium Medium’s album, but there was a catch. To claim the prize, there was also a show ticket, and you had to go to the show to get the album. The show was at City Gardens in Trenton, and that is the beautiful structure you see above. City Gardens was a converted warehouse on the outskirts of the city, and it was known to attract a bad element. Also, I only knew one song by the band. Did the rest of their songs suck? I had been burned that way before. Still, free is free, so, with more than a little anxiety, I went. And you know what? It was great! The energy that I so loved on the record was all there in person. The band had incredible energy, and the rest of their songs were just as good as this one. And I went to a show in big scary Trenton, and nothing happened to me. After that, I became a regular there whenever they had a new wave show.

Epilogue: I have no idea what became of Medium Medium. The album was called The Glitterhouse, and the purchase link above will take you to that same album, but it has been repackaged and retitled Hungry, So Angry. City Gardens lasted a number of years after that, but it is gone now. But this song is available, so I can’t be the only one who remembers it. And it still sounds as good to me now as it did then.

Discoveries: Starship Trooper

Yes: Starship Trooper

[purchase]

Let me give you an abbreviated history of my teenage musical obsessions:

The Beatles -> Heavy Metal -> Prog Rock -> Everything Else

For this post, I'm going to feature the third element in this flowchart. It was 1986, and I was a freshman at Rutgers. I had been deep into heavy metal for the past two years, but college was already expanding my musical horizons. One of my dorm mates was, like me, not really part of the "in" crowd. And like me, he was very into his music. However, while I was banging away to Judas Priest and Iron Maiden, he was deep into ELP and Yes. We both influenced each other musically, but i definitely got the better part of that deal. For while ELP have not aged particularly well, Yes has become one of those groups I always find myself going back to, like visiting an old friend.

And I remember the exact moment I fell in love with Yes: I was laying on the floor of his dorm room--possibly in a bean bag chair--with headphones on, listening to The Yes Album, bathed in the warm sunlight shining through the dorm room windows. No mood-altering drugs were involved, yet it all seemed so...blissful.

Fragile, Yessongs, and the then-recent 9021Live: The Solos soon followed, and I was hooked. I got my hands on every Yes album I could, then expanded into ELP, Pink Floyd, Jethro Tull, Genesis, and King Crimson. And they led to the whole pantheon of "classic rock" and jazz artists that made up the bulk of my listening time in college. It really wasn't until the end of my college stay that I started getting interested in more contemporary music.

But so much contemporary music is "hear" today, gone tomorrow. A song like "Starship Trooper" I could listen to forever.

The photo accompanying this post is a shot of my dorm room circa '86-67. Hard to believe but at the time, those cassettes you see there were my entire music collection. Oh, how times have changed!

Discoveries: Lovers in a Dangerous Time

Bruce Cockburn: Lovers in a Dangerous Time

[purchase]

I always wanted to be a writer. My mother was a reporter for a local newspaper, and she always told us what a chore it was to write up the meetings she had to cover. But she would sometimes get a feature assignment, and then her eyes would light up, and we would hear all about what she was working on. My father was not that interested in writing. His thing was making things work. We were the last family in the universe to own a working black-and-white TV, and that was my father’s doing. He also liked to get numbers to do his bidding, and he dreamed of me becoming a mathematician. But he ruined that, and he was the one who inspired me to write. That’s because my father expressed his love for me by sharing stories. He made sure I read all 14 of L Frank Baum’s Oz books, and he introduced me to the Andrew Lang fairy tale collections. So I took to writing science fiction and horror stories.

Of course, I also grew up surrounded by music. So most of my nonfiction reading was about music. I was lucky to have access to some of the best music writers, including Robert Palmer in the New York Times, and Timothy White and others in Musician magazine. And I always read the reviews. So, I remember reading about a musician from Canada who was new to me. Palmer wrote about how Bruce Cockburn had spent time in Nicaragua living among the Sandinistas, and had written an album about it. And then I saw the review in Musician, and I knew I wanted the album. Stealing Fire opened with Lovers in a Dangerous Time, and I knew my sources had led me to something good.

Putting all of this together, I realized that I was on a path back then whose nature I did not fully realize at the time. I was on my way to becoming a music writer myself. I don’t know if I will ever be as good as Robert Palmer or Timothy White, but that is what I strive for in my writings here and on Oliver di Place.

Pipes and Woodwinds -> Discoveries: So Flute

St. Germain: So Flute

[purchase]

For our new theme this week, we'll be sharing discovery stories - those tales of sudden connection, when a new artist or song arrives in your ears so strongly that the moment becomes fixed in your memory. Sharing those few defining moments in the development of an audiophile's development should prove to be a great way to glimpse into the minds and souls of our little band of bloggers, and expect it's going to be an interesting week.

I shared this particular story last year, but it bears repeating - and not just to introduce a song that has turned out to be the greatest road trip soundtrack-starter ever.

My first trip to Amsterdam was as an adult, in March of 2000; my wife had just miscarried after several years of earnest attempts at bearing a first child, and although the doctor advised against flying, we really needed to get away from it all. I have fond if somewhat inevitably hazy memories of a week museum-hopping and roaming the castles and small rustic villages of the countryside, sitting by the side of canals eating bread, cheese, and salami -- about all we could afford on my teacher's salary.

But my strongest memories from that week are of St. Germain's Tourist, an album whose jazz-informed rhythms, jazz-club instrumentation, and long, trance-inducing tracks emanated from what seemed at the time like every coffeeshop and bar, providing the perfect atmospheric soundtrack to what otherwise could have fast become an insular and morose period in our lives. I bought the disc at overseas prices -- a comparative fortune, back then -- and have kept it with me ever since. Rose Rouge is one of the shorter pieces on the album, but it really blows away the blues, even now.

...and so does So Flute, come to think of it.

Pipes and Woodwinds: Behind Blue Eyes

The Chieftains with Roger Daltrey: Behind Blue Eyes

[purchase]

To finish out my posts for this week’s theme, I wanted a song that had both pipes and woodwinds. For that, I knew I would need The Chieftains. The Chieftains began life as an Irish traditional band, one of the best. But, in 1991, they were looking to make a live album, and leader Paddy Maloney wanted to do something to make it special. So he invited Roger Daltry of The Who and Nanci Griffith to participate. It was a decision that would turn out to be very important to The Chieftains. Since then, most of their albums have included collaborations with artists who wouldn’t normally be thought of as traditional artists of any sort. In the process, The Chieftains have made fascinating connections between their music and those of their guests. It doesn’t always work, but the results are never dull. With Daltrey and Griffith, it did work beautifully.

Behind Blue Eyes, as rendered here, shows that Roger Daltrey could have been an Irish ballad singer in another life. The woodwind here is Matt Molloy’s flute. The pipe is the Irish version of the bagpipe, the uilleann pipes. It is played by Paddy Moloney.

Pipes and Woodwinds: Roland Kirk Edition

Roland Kirk: Mingus-Griff Song

Roland Kirk: Mood Indigo

[purchase]

Rahsaan Roland Kirk was a one-man woodwind section. He could play three reeds simultaneously, and then go right into a flute solo (as he does on Ellington's "Mood Indigo"). He also modified his horns to produce unique instruments like the manzello and the stritch. and he was fond of throwing a siren into the mix whenever the mood struck.

He was often seen as a novelty act by the jazz purists of the day, but eventually came to be recognized as one of the truly unique voices in the genre. Jethro Tull's Ian Anderson nicked a fair bit of his flute style from Kirk, and they even recorded a cover of his "Serenade to a Cuckoo" on their first album.

The two songs I'm sharing in this post originally came from the live album Kirk in Copenhagen, recorded in October 1963 and released the following year (predating is adoption of the "Raahsan" moniker). Years later, the tracks were reissued as part of a mammoth 11-CD boxed set that included a much-expanded version of the Copenhagen album with the songs resequenced in proper order, putting these two tracks back-to-back. Not only do they make for a nice contrast in tempos, but at the end of the "Mingus-Griff Song" track, he explains how he will play "Mood Indigo" with the three reeds simultaneously playing different parts of the original arrangement. It's worth stating explicitly that Kirk is the only horn player on these tracks. Kids, don't try this at home!

Pipes and Woodwinds: Clarinet Connections

Brave Old World: Brave Old Sirbas

[purchase]

One of the pleasures of this week‘s theme for me is the chance to present some klezmer music here. Some readers at this point may be going “aha!!” But probably more of you are wondering what I‘m talking about. Klezmer is Jewish celebration music that Jewish immigrants brought with them from eastern Europe to the United States in roughly the period from 1890-1920. This music often featured the clarinet, and it reached its peak in the 1920s, with clarinetist David Tarras leading the way. And then, klezmer disappeared.

Fifty years later, a group of Jewish-American musicians seeking their roots began to discover old klezmer recordings from the 20s, and klezmer was reborn. Brave Old World were a group that was in the thick of this revival. Brave Old Sirbas is a fine example of the sound of klezmer clarinet. I presented a fuller discussion of klezmer music last year on my blog, Oliver di Place. The songs are no longer up, but you can read that here.

Benny Goodman: Puttin‘ on the Ritz

[purchase]

So klezmer may be new to you, but I’m sure that you have heard of Benny Goodman. In discussions of Goodman’s music, not much is usually made of his Jewish background. But Goodman apparently received his first musical training in 1919 at the Kehelah Jacob Synagogue, so I think that it is not too much of a stretch to say that he must have heard klezmer music as a boy. I can hear the influence in his playing, although he was also obviously influenced by the sounds of early jazz that were coming from New Orleans. Still, the connection is there. Goodman is, of course, best known for his big band recordings, but I have chosen a trio recording to better focus on his clarinet playing. It may well be fair to say that the klezmer revival musicians, many of whom started out playing jazz, were also influenced by Benny Goodman.

Pipes and Woodwinds: Winter in America

Gil Scott-Heron: Winter in America

[purchase]

This bleak vision of dystopian America circa 1974 is courtesy of Gil Scott-Heron, a socially conscious vocalist who creates a unique fusion of jazz and soul. Winter in America features the flute, a hauntingly gorgeous choice that highlights his chilling words.

Pipes and Woodwinds: Around This Corner

Sarah Harmer: Around This Corner

[purchase]

Sarah Harmer: Just A Closer Walk With Thee

[purchase]

The classical reeded woodwinds of the standard orchestra - clarinets, oboes, bassoons - make an occasional appearance in the middle of more than a handful of acoustic pop songs, joining in for the third verse or the bridge, then sticking around for the remainder of the piece.

And though it pops its head in for emphasis subtly throughout the first verse, so it seems to be with the clarinet in Around This Corner, a catchy, bouncy piece of folkpop that led off Sarah Harmer's first major solo disk after years heading Canadian cult alt-band Weeping Tile. It makes a difference to the sound, to be sure, but it keeps surprising you. And the way it fades back into the music is so subtle, you forget it was there all along, until it comes back to bridge the gap between chorus and verse so sweetly, like a Woody Allen solo.

Harmer took the same tactic in Songs For Clem, her self-produced, never-intended-to-be-released gift to her father recorded the year beforehand, but only truly distributed after the runaway success of You Were There. It's rough cut, with rain on the roof coming in as a hiss on the track towards the end, but the clarinet lends a second line feel to the gospel harmonies, floating the old hymn somewhere heavenly.

Pipes and Woodwinds: Tsumagoi

Sadao Watanabe: Tsumagoi

[purchase]

Before you get all up in my grill, let me just point out that this is not J-Rock. It's pretty straight-up jazz by a world-renowned woodwind player who just happens to be Japanese. I used to listen to it when it came out in 1980, which far predates my J-Rock obsession. In fact, I used to play along to this tune on my really crappy saxophone, even though here, Watanabe-san features the flute (he usually plays alto sax too).

So, Columbia Records ended up with this guy on their label, and they wisely (or maybe just luckily), threw a bunch of other terrific jazz fusion artists into the mix and recorded their live Budokan sets. We've got Dave Grusin on keyboards, Eric Gale on guitar, and Richard Tee, Steve Gadd, Anthony Jackson, Ralph MacDonald, Jeff Mironov and the Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra. Whew!

Pipes and Woodwinds: Disappearing One

Chris Cornell: Disappearing One

[purchase]

When grunge/metal heroes Soundgarden parted ways in 1997 (they have since reunited) I coudn't wait to hear what frontman and main songwriter Chris Cornell would do next.

Over the years his debut as a solo artist, the song Seasons on the soundtrack for Cameron Crowe's Singles in 1992, had grown to be a big fan favorite and it was obvious that whatever he was cooking up would be worth waiting for. The first sign of things to come was the sublime Sunshower on the Great Expectations soundtrack in 1998. The full-length Euphoria Morning hit the shelves the following year and the moment I heard it I had a new favorite album.

Perhaps surprising to fans of Soundgarden, the album couldn't have sounded less like Soundgarden. No grinding, distorted heavy metal guitars to be found anywhere. This was more similar to his Temple Of The Dog side-project from 1991.

Dark and melancholy, but always melodic and enticing the album is absolutely brilliant from start to finish. Great stuff on here, like the gloomy Steel Rain, the Jeff Buckley tribute Wave Goodbye, the bluesy When I'm Down and of course Disappearing One, in my opinion one of the best songs he has ever written.

I'm glad he put some clarinets in the intro or I'd have no reason to post it this week.

Pipes and Woodwinds: The Dreaming

Kate Bush: The Dreaming

[purchase]

If you don’t know what to listen for, you might say that there are no pipes or woodwinds in The Dreaming. There is, however, a strange bass drone that starts the song, and if you listen carefully, you will find that that drone modulates and continues throughout the song. That is the sound of the didgeridoo. The didgeridoo may be the only musical instrument that is made by insects. The Aborigines of Australia find logs that have been hollowed out by termites, and they then put the finishing touches in to get the didgeridoo to sound perfect. The resulting instrument was traditionally played in rituals to induce the trance known as the dreamtime. That is the basis of Kate Bush’s song, although I do not think that her take on it is very authentic.

For The Birds / Pipes and Woodwinds: The Blackbird

Silly Wizard: The Blackbird

[sadly, out of print]

I've always liked the slow, almost stately medieval pace and harmonies of this live tune from my favorite Scottish tradfolk band with the dumbest name ever, leading me to believe either that the words "silly" and "wizard" have slightly different connotations across the pond, or the seventies were even weirder than I had originally thought.

The soaring whistle that joins the vocal narrative just before the midpoint is intended to be the titular bird itself, I suppose, but it doesn't come off as trite as all that - after all, this sort of music is known for being emphatically literal without sacrificing a whit of beauty.

For the Birds: Hummingbird and Skylark and Owl, oh my!

Kris Delmhorst: Hummingbird

[purchase]


Bette Midler: Skylark

[purchase]


Carrie Newcomer: I Heard an Owl

[purchase]

I must say I was quite pleased when I heard what this week's theme was to be... because I had made a Birds mix CD a few years back and thought I could cull some good songs from there - upon perusing the tracklist, it turns out that most of them have the generic word Bird in the title (rather than a certain type of feathered friend). Ah, well - plenty more where those came from, especially in my aviary of female artists...

I adore anything Kris Delmhorst sings and writes... and this is a breathy confessional of hiding her light, flower and voice until the object of her affection is out of sight/earshot, at which point she shines brightly, blooms profusely and sings beautifully - over the years, she's perfected The Art of Melancholy Sweetness...

I've been a Bette Midler fan for decades, having been turned on to her music by a college roommate - this classic reinterpretation is from her first album and, in retrospect, would have worked perfectly for our Torch Songs theme a few weeks back...

Carrie Newcomer's repertoire consists of lovely, inspirational songs that cut straight to the heart and spirit - this is her reaction to the events of September 11 ("the only peace this world will know can only come from love")...

For the Birds: The Owl and the Pussycat

Donovan: The Owl and the Pussycat

[purchase]

From Donovan's curious children's album, H.M.S. Donovan, comes this 19th century Edward Lear nonsense poem set to music. I have a fondness for this whimsical aspect of Donovan's music, though I wonder how many children actually listened to it.

Today's photo is another favorite of mine--a captive Barred Owl winking at the camera.

For the Birds: The Crow on the Cradle

Show of Hands: The Crow on the Cradle

[purchase]

The Crow on the Cradle was written by Englishman Sydney Carter. Carter was a Shaker and a pacifist, and his best known song was Lord of the Dance. In the mid 1960s, the world was gripped by the fear of nuclear war, and The Crow on the Cradle reflects that. The crow was a symbol of death from pre-Christian times in England, so finding one on the cradle of a newborn would not be a good sign. Judy Collins and Pete Seeger both recorded the song, but it sounds best to me when a British male sings it. I first heard The Crow on the Cradle performed by Nick Dow, and he instilled the song with the appropriate sense of dread. Unfortunately, Dow’s version is not available, but English duo Show of Hands come pretty close to the feeling I remember.

For The Birds: Rubber Duckie

Ernie: Rubber Duckie

[purchase]

Kelly Hogan: Rubber Duckie

[purchase]

Larry Paulette: Rubber Duckie

[scavenge out-of-print '77 album]

Love Pigs: Rubber Duckie

[download out-of-print sesame street punk covers compilation]

The Buffalo Chips: Rubber Duckie

[purchase other in-print CDs from SUNY Buffalo's only all-male a capella group]

As a long-time cover collector, I tend to have a handful of different versions of pretty much any beloved song lurking in my collection. In the LP world, these coversongs were often hard to keep track of without some sort of overly obsessive catalog system, but the highly manageable universe of iTunes and digital music feeds my obsession, making it easier both to store and collect single tracks, and to find those tracks easily.

The fruits of such a media shift: I have not one but five versions of Rubber Duckie to offer up for this week's theme, and each one is decidedly different. Ernie's original is a classic, of course. But sweet-voiced alt-country crooner Kelly Hogan's piano-driven lounge take is delightful in its sultry innocence, all the more noticeable next to openly gay seventies artist Larry Paulette's funky, slippery, sexually charged take. And the contrast between the thrash punk of Love Pigs and the barbershop a capella arrangement from male group The Buffalo Chips should go without saying.

This isn't my whole collection, of course. There's also an oddly pedophilic-sounding Little Richard cover out there, plus a marching band cover from a prison band, and a disco take with Robin Gibb and the Muppets that sounds exactly like you'd think it does, among others. But I just couldn't bring myself to share those alongside the "good" ones today - perhaps we'll take on a "questionable cover songs" theme for April Fools Day this year, and I'll dig 'em up then instead.

Thanks to long-time cover blog Fong Songs for introducing me to two of these covers, by the way. Host Jamie Fong closed down the shop just this month, but he went out with a bang, and his final series - a top 101 covers countdown - remains up for the nonce.

For the Birds: The Gold Finch and the Red Oak Tree

Ted Leo/Pharmacists: The Gold Finch and the Red Oak Tree

[purchase]

Ted Leo's third album with the Pharmacists, The Tyranny of Distance, is mostly an electric affair. But there is this one acoustic track, the short but lovely "The Gold Finch and the Red Oak Tree".

Around these parts, the Eastern Goldfinch is ubiquitous. So ubiquitous in fact, that I've rarely bothered to photograph them. Which is a shame, because the males of the species are quite colorful in their summer plumage. At any rate, several years ago I did take a few shots while a half-dozen Goldfinches were feasting on one of my back porch feeders, and that's where today's photo comes from. Not my best work, but I didn't want to pass up the opportunity to share this beautiful song.

For the Birds: A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square

The Manhattan Transfer: A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square

[purchase]

This week, we have been treated to some beautiful, realistic nature photography, as well as some more humorous images. But this post needed a romantic picture. For a few moments, we leave the real world behind, as The Manhattan Transfer transports us to the world of idealized romantic love.

I am a long time hater of love songs. They are often presented in huge productions, drowning in schmaltzy strings. Or the singer belts out the song with no nuance whatsoever. Or someone decides to jazz it up, and it sounds hokey and false. All of this and more has been done to A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square. The song is a standard, which means that it has been ruined in more ways than anyone can count. The song dates from 1939, just before Britain’s entry into World War II. Berkeley Square is in London, and no one has ever seen a nightingale there. To do so would be as miraculous as the love described in the song. The Manhattan Transfer would revisit the song on an album they did with a full orchestra. But this was how they first recorded it in 1981, with just four perfectly blended voices, and no instruments at all. And this simple arrangement is as lush and romantic as anything I have ever heard. So, I don’t actually hate love songs at all. I just hate how they are often performed.

For The Birds: The Wild Goose

Kate Rusby: The Wild Goose

[purchase]

I was introduced to Kate Rusby by one of our early contributors here at Star Maker Machine, the first female to join our little band; since then, I've become an avid, almost rabid fan of the singer-songwriter's well-crafted interpretations and originals, despite continued frustration that she will not tour in the states due to her fear of flying.

Though Divinyl has long since ceased blogging with us, in her honor, I post this favorite take on a traditional piece from the UK-based folk songbird whose gorgeous voice and ability to channel the sorrow that defines so much of the British folk tradition are, in my heart and ears, essentially unparalleled.

For the Birds: Ride A White Swan

T. Rex: Ride a White Swan

[purchase]

If I were a newspaper writer, I might posit this as today's headline: London, 1970 - Marc Bolan and T. Rex Go Electric, Launch Glam Rock. 'Cuz it was this song, their first British top-ten hit, that started a whole 'nuther genre in what was then swingin' England.

I was more aware of some of their other hits that made it across the pond just a bit later: Get It On, Metal Guru, Jeepster. It wasn't until I first discovered the 2000 British movie Billy Elliot, with its terrific soundtrack that includes four T. Rex songs, that I fell in love with this tune. It's about as pop-cheery a song as you can imagine. Billy Elliot is one of my top 5 movies – I mean, the kid (a cutie-pie to be sure) turns into Adam Cooper, FFS!

Keeping up with the Joneses is getting hard this week – here's a photo of some swans that Mr. Geoviki snapped last October in Bath, England (kind of fitting for the featured group, right?)

For the Birds: Sparrow

Simon & Garfunkel: Sparrow

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Pity the titular bird in this early Paul Simon song. Unloved by all, she dies, tired and hungry. Released on the first Simon and Garfunkel album, Wednesday Morning 3 a.m., the heavy-handed allegory shows a songwriter still refining his craft. Fortunately for us, greater things were to come from Mr. Simon.

And fortunately for me, the Swamp Sparrow in today's photo did find a comforting place to land and eat in an area not far from my home known as the Six Mile Run Reservoir Site (despite the lack of any actual reservoir). It's one of my favorite photos, not least because it was the first, and so far only, time I've encountered a Swamp Sparrow.

For the Birds: Canary

Liz Phair: Canary

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When most songwriters use bird imagery they use it to express freedom and contentedness, but Liz Phair found another side of the story. In this song, from her fantastic major debut "Exile In Guyville" she sings of a bird that is beautiful and meant to be free, but now is just the obedient little songbird. Metaphor, much?

This is a muted number for Phair, but has the charm and the sexuality in it that we'd expect from her.

For the Birds: Blue Jay Way

The Beatles: Blue Jay Way

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The song has nothing to due with birds. "Blue Jay Way" was simply the name of street in the Hollywood hills. As the story goes, George Harrison was staying at a house on said street. One day, George was waiting for Beatles press officer Derek Taylor to stop by, but he was running very late. To pass the time until Derek arrived, George sat down at an organ in the house and wrote this song about waiting for Derek to arrive.

Today's photo was taken on my back porch in November of last year.

For the Birds: Ain’t Nobody Here But Us Chickens

Asleep at the Wheel: Ain‘t Nobody Here But Us Chickens

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It’s always a pleasure to share some western swing from Asleep at the Wheel. The band was inspired by the pioneers of western swing music, especially Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys. It was not unusual for those bands to adapt swing tunes to their style, and Asleep at the Wheel follows suit here. Ain’t Nobody Here But Us Chickens was originally made popular by Louis Jordan.

For the Birds: Last Lonely Eagle

New Riders of the Purple Sage: Last Lonely Eagle

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"Last Lonely Eagle" comes from the first NRPS album, when the band was practically a Grateful Dead side project, with Jerry Garcia flexing his pedal steel muscles and Mickey Hart playing drums on a few tracks (including this one). It was also around this time that the band played the middle set of many Grateful Dead shows, bookended by acoustic and electric sets from the Dead. So it's no surprise that the album slots in well with the Dead's contemporary albums, Workingman's Dead and American Beauty.

The song's lyrics seem to be about the end of the '60s hippie dream, but in the chorus the eagle metaphor kicks in, tying it nicely into the rising eco-consciousness of the times. It's possible that John Dawson, who wrote all the songs on the album (and also co-wrote the Dead classic "Friend of the Devil"), had the Bald Eagle in mind when he wrote it, but for this post, I'm sharing a photo of a captive Golden Eagle I snapped a few years ago down in Gloucester County, N.J.

For The Birds: Lesbian Seagull

Engelbert Humperdinck: Lesbian Seagull

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It wasn't easy thinking of a song to post this week as I did a mix of birds songs on my blog last year (fifteen songs, all naming a different type of bird) and not only did I not want to re-post any of those songs, but I didn't even want to re-use any of those fifteen birds. I'm not a bird guy, couldn't think of anything.

Then boyhowdy's post the other day made me realise the mix didn't have a seagull song and immediately thought of Engelbert Humperdinck's Lesbian Seagull from the Beavis And Butt-Head Do America soundtrack. A song originally recorded by Tom Wilson Weinberg in 1979.

I know what you're thinking: Is the song as preposterous and amazing as the title implies?

Yes. Yes, it is.

For the Birds: Baltimore Oriole

George Harrison: Baltimore Oriole

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Somewhere in England is nobody's favorite George Harrison album. If it is remembered at all, it is for the single "All Those Years Ago", a leftover from a session for a Ringo Starr album that George rewrote into a Lennon tribute in the wake of John's murder. I bet most of you can't remember another song from the album.

One oddity about the album is that it contains not one, but two Hoagy Carmichael songs, including the theme-appropriate "Baltimore Oriole".

I don't know much about the song, but I do love how many bird references Hoagy squeezed into its lyrics.

As for the bird itself, I always enjoy seeing one when I'm out birding in the New Jersey summer. Like many male songbirds, they are ludicrously colored, and I love that. While mammals and reptiles are busy blending in to their surroundings, these guys could not be more visible. And that is to our everlasting visual benefit.

And a for the photograph, this one is from the Franklin Park Natural Area in central NJ. Not one of my better shots (they like to hang out way up at the tops of trees), but the color comes shining through.

For the Birds: Penguins

Lyle Lovett: Penguins

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I'm really not sure how a penguin manages to be sensitive to his needs, but oh lord, I go for "Penguins" too, the song at least. This song always makes me smile. This particular version is from his live album.

For The Birds: Song To A Seagull

Joni Mitchell: Song To A Seagull

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Birds can go where we cannot, and most of us envision the open endless aether as pure somehow. It's no wonder their winged journey through the sky seems much like escape to our literate, flightless race; no wonder so many birdsongs pay jealous tribute to flight, both literal and metaphoric.

Here, as in so many other songs about birds, our patron saint Joni projects her debut dreams into the air, giving them the feathers that she herself has shed, adapting instead to the hard concrete life of the city only to find that her life, like the seaside, has become deserted and unfit for survival - except for the seagulls, ever out of reach and alive, like her heart, overhead.

Yes, I know Darius posted the song last year, but I figure any chance to bring the woman whose lyrics form our mandate forward is a bonus. And yes, it's a bit overwrought, and a bit formulaic - Joni wouldn't truly master the confessional lens that made her so celebrated for a few albums yet - but this title track from her debut certainly hints of the mastery to come.

For the Birds: Bluebird Is Dead

Electric Light Orchestra: Bluebird Is Dead

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Electric Light Orchestra cellist Mike Edwards died earlier this month in a freak hay bale incident.

Mike was in the band for ELO 2 and On the Third Day, the latter being one of the first albums I ever owned (as I recounted here), and I still have a soft spot for it. I didn't know it at the time, but it was probably my first taste of prog rock. This was ELO just before they became ubiquitous; before Jeff Lynne sanded down all the rough edges in his pursuit of pop perfection. It was also the last album for which ELO used its own members to create the illusion of orchestral backing. (By the next album, Lynne could afford to hire a real orchestra.) Mike Edwards was the lone cellist in the band at the time, so he had to overdub all the cello parts himself.

So I offer up "Bluebird is Dead" from On the Third Day as a tribute to one of the original rock cellists.

P.S. The photo accompanying this post is one of my own, taken earlier this year at the Negri-Nepote Native Grassland Preserve in central New Jersey.

Blank and Blues/ For the Birds: Emu’s Blues

Darol Anger and Mike Marshall: Emu‘s Blues

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Take a look at the picture above. If something like that asked you to post a second transition song, wouldn’t you do it too?

Seriously, Darol Anger and Mike Marshall both came to my attention when they were playing in the David Grisman Quintet. There, they were playing a kind of jazz on instruments that would normally play bluegrass, but it sounded great. Here, Anger and Marshall bring their mandolin and fiddle, and play with drums, bass, and organ. It still sounds like nothing else on earth, and it really cooks. Warning: Emu’s Blues is a playful title for a playful piece of music; this one has two false stops before it finally ends. Make sure you hang on for the entire ride.

Blank and Blues / For The Birds: Black Crow Blues

Townes Van Zandt: Black Crow Blues

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Bob Dylan: Black Crow Blues

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A twofer transition today gets us from the blues to the birds in one fell swoop.

First, it's been seven months since we last posted a Townes Van Zandt song here on Star Maker Machine - the longest we've gone without a tune from the cowboy troubadour since our inception. Happily, his Black Crow Blues - recorded early, and ultimately collected on 2003 posthumous release In The Beginning - is a typically sparse, morbid ballad.

Meanwhile, as befitting his early folk incarnation, Bob Dylan's Black Crow Blues uses a much more traditional form. The first song Dylan ever recorded on piano, it's has never been performed live, but the combination of Dylan's pre-rock tone, those cryptic lyrics, and the barrelhouse blues is certainly worth celebrating.

Blank and Blues: Grand Prairie Tx. Homesick Blues

Dave Carter with Tracy Grammer: Grand Prairie Tx. Homesick Blues

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It is no secret I am smitten with the music and lyrics of Dave Carter - I love this tale from his 1998 debut album, When I Go, stunningly illustrating the "you can't go home again" philosophy:

St. Peter when you call me, you will find me waitin' here
beneath this sad mimosa tree with a quart of drive-thru beer
for home is in the heartland but the heartland cannot save you when the heart is gone
and home's moved on

Blank and Blues: Love’s Been Linked to The Blues

David Olney: Love‘s Been Linked to the Blues

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Before this place goes completely to the birds, I thought I would offer one more post on our old theme. David Olney got a quick medical degree, so that he could conduct a special study for the FDA. The report of his results come in a gently swinging ballad that says it in a way the lay listener can completely understand.

Blank and Blues: Wedding Bell Blues

Laura Nyro: Wedding Bell Blues

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Ah... dear, sweet Laura Nyro... penner of many tunes made more famous by others: this one, The Fifth Dimension... Stoney End, Barbra Streisand... And When I Die, Blood, Sweat & Tears... Three Dog Night, Eli's Coming - she sadly left us too early in 1997 at the age of 49 due to ovarian cancer...

But mostly, when I listen to this entire album, I think of Elias Livaditas and the Summer of '73 between my freshman and sophomore college years - I was working as a waitress, he was a regular customer and a romance blossomed. He would write me poems on the napkins I brought with his meal... and he would pick me up after work and we'd go back to his place for a while before he'd drop me back home - First Songs was always the soundtrack to our liaisons...

Ah... dear, sweet Elias - thanks for many lovely memories, Laura among them...

Blank And Blues: Slusk Blues

Cornelis Vreeswijk: Slusk Blues

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Cornelis Vreeswijk was born in IJmuiden, The Netherlands, in 1937. After seeing most of their world bombed to pieces by the Nazis, his father decided to relocate the whole family to Sweden in 1949.

Inspired by Josh White and Leadbelly he started playing guitar, made his album debut in 1964, became an almost overnight success with his often raunchy and daring but always eloquent and thoughtful songs, and he remained one of the most famous and beloved performers in the country (and in the rest of Scandinavia) until his untimely death in 1987.

That's the short story, the long story is of course much more complicated. He wasn't only famous for his music, but also for his private life, as the tabloids tended to follow his every move. He was a notorious hell-raiser and womanizer, known for his hot temper and for never turning down a drink.

Some of his endevours have become the stuff of legend. Like how during one of his first tours in the late 1960s he gained 70 pounds in less than a year due to over-drinking and over-eating, how he punched lawyers who tried to get him to pay his taxes or how he chased two women he'd met in a bar out of his house with a knife after realising they were just a couple of dudes in drag.

The fact that during his last year he looked about 70 years old when in reality he hadn't even turned 50 yet is a testament to decades worth of indulgences.

He may have lived a hard life and written countless songs about hoboes, robbers, murderers, scam artists, drunkards and anything else that conventions deem unsophisticated, but he also penned some of the most beautiful and delicate love songs imaginable. Many of songs have become standards and have been covered by dozens if not hundreds of artists over the years.

Although Slusk Blues was one of his earliest songs (from his third album, 1965's Ballader Och Grimascher) when he hadn't quite built up the reputation he would eventually get, the song is clearly a comment to all those who deemed him unsophisticated and boorish. I'm trying to think of a good English translation of "slusk" and "slob" is the best I can come up with. It doesn't quite fit the bill, but imagine some sort of über-slob and you get the picture.

The whole song is him sarcastically comparing himself to the cultured elite ("I'm filthy pig/Fuck hygiene/How did you manage to get so clean?", "You drink wine for the pleasure/I like wine because it gets me drunk/People like me should me locked up") or simply describing himself as "I'm a slob/Born in a sink/Dad was a drunk/Mom was a whore".

But he concludes that he will probably outlive his snobby, uptight detractors anyway, and unlike his their lives will have been completely uneventful and devoid meaning. He was right about the second part.

Blank and Blues: Todd Snider Edition

Todd Snider: Statistician's Blues

Todd Snider: Talking Seattle Grunge Rock Blues

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Every decent folk singer has at least one "Blues" song is his or her repertoire. Todd Snider, it seems, has a few more than his fair share. Both of these tunes come from Snider's 2003 live album Near Truths and Hotel Rooms, and they only represent half of the "Blank and Blues" songs on that album. I could easily post six or seven Snider songs if I wanted to pick through his entire catalogue.

The reason I'm sharing these two songs is because they both represent my favorite aspects of Snider's songwriting. His best tunes always a certain cleverness to them whether it's a simple turn of a phrase or telling a funny story through song... Todd always has a bit of a smart-ass in him. I like it.

Here, Snider laments the unused portion of his brain in "Statistician's Blues" and skewers the popular music of the 1990's in "Talking Seattle Grunge Rock Blues." Incidentally, "Statistician's Blues" is one of those songs that I would probably play incessantly on the radio if not for the FCC and their rules about language.

Blank and Blues: Mr.s E's Beautiful Blues

Eels: Mr. E's Beautiful Blues

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It's been a tough week for me, one of those weeks that makes me grateful for the existence of songs like this one. It's Friday night, and all I can do is turn up the stereo and sing along:

Goddamn right, it's a beautiful day.

Blank and Blues: Jimmy Olsen's Blues

Spin Doctors: Jimmy Olsen's Blues

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Think you've got problems? Imagine trying to compete with Superman.

Poor Jimmy Olsen's got no chance, and he knows it - even if he could get Lois away from the Man of Steel, he'd still have Clark Kent between himself and the object of his affection. Even his analyst says it's hopeless. Yet a man can dream, can't he?

It's a masterful conceit, and Spin Doctors spin the tale out pretty well for a bunch of scrawny pre-hipster guys in pajamas. Quite possibly the best thing about Pocket Full Of Kryptonite, even if other songs got all the press and MTV airplay.

Blank and Blues: Bara to Katasumi no Blues

MERRY: Bara to Katasumi no Blues

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Were you thinking that songs that end in "Blues" would give you a respite from my incessant J-Rock postings?

Think again.

No, no, I do this 'cuz I love ya.

Not only does this song have the required title, it's a bona fide boogie-woogie blues tune complete with a walking base line. If it weren't for the Japanese lyrics, you could imagine Brian Setzer rocking this. Okay, I can imagine it.

Blank And Blues: Station Blues

Othar Turner & The Afrosippi Allstars feat. The Rising Star Fife And Drum Band: Station Blues

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How many people make their album debut at the age of 91? Othar "Otha" Turner is the only one I can think of. Sadly he only got to make two records before moving on to higher grounds in 2003.

After playing traditional fife & drum blues for 75 years in his native Mississippi he and The Rising Star Fife And Drum Band (his backing band with an ever-changing line-up mostly consisting family and friends) recorded their first album Everybody Hollerin' Goat in 1998.

A great album, but the real jewel in the crown is 1999's From Senegal To Senatobia, where a group of Senegalese musicians credited as "The afrosippi allstars" joined in the hijinx. The result is a blend of West African rhythms, bottleneck guitars, marching drums, and a fife Turner had made himself out of bamboo.

A giant bubbling gumbo so deadly hot it makes your head spin.

Drum & fife music is as old blues, if not older (I'll let all of the music historians of this blog discuss that one, as my expertise on the subject is virtually non-existant) but never got the same recognition or exposure. Perhaps because the genre never had a superstar like B.B. King or a near mythological figure like Robert Johnson. Or maybe it's just not easy enough on the ears to attract a big audience.

But if anyone could've brought this incredible and historically significant music to the masses it would've been Othar Turner. If only the record labels had found him sooner.

Blank and Blues: Fishin’ Blues

Taj Mahal: Fishin‘ Blues

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Fishin’ Blues is proof that blues can be good time music. Taj Mahal’s career is further proof of this. Mahal has always been interested in showing that there is more to blues music than wallowing in self pity. As he says, "You can listen to my music from front to back, and you don't ever hear me moaning and crying about how bad you done treated me.” So it’s only fitting that Fishin’ Blues has become one of Taj Mahal’s signature tunes.

Blank and Blues: Delta Blues

Blind Lemon Jefferson: Matchbox Blues
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Robert Johnson: Stop Breaking Down Blues
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Henry Thomas: Bull Doze Blues
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Tom Clarence Ashley & Gwen Foster: Rising Sun Blues
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Robert Johnson: Crossroads Blues
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Blind Willie McTell: Statesboro Blues
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We haven't had a quiz lately, have we? Put on your thinking caps, my little Starmakers, and match the original Delta blues song (circa 1920-1930) with the British/U.S. group (circa 1960-1970) that made real money off it covered it. (And Canned Heat not only recorded the song, they also managed to wrangle the copyright to it as well, shame on them).

1. Matchbox Blues (1927)
2. Stop Breaking Down Blues (1937)
3. Bull Doze Blues (1928)
4. Rising Sun Blues (1933)
5. Crossroad Blues (1936)
6. Statesboro Blues (1928)

A. The Animals (1964)
B. Canned Heat (1968)
C. The Beatles (1964)
D. The Rolling Stones (1972)
E. The Allman Brothers (1971)
F. Cream (1968)


highlight for answers: 1=C, 2=D, 3=B, 4=A, 5=F, 6=E

Blank And Blues: The Homo Habilis Blues

The Soundtrack of Our Lives: The Homo Habilis Blues

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The Soundtrack of Our Lives rose from the ashes of Union Carbide Productions in 1995 and released The Homo Habilis Blues EP the following year. 1996 also saw the release of their highly, acclaimed Grammy-winning debut album Welcome To The Infant Freebase.

Amazon.com describes the album as following: "Debut from 1998 for Swedish rock outfit includes 20 tracks of dark, dramatic rock 'n' roll echoing the majesty and ambitions of classic albums past. Their sound recalls everyone from The Doors to Pink Floyd to Led Zeppelin, however avoiding the pitfall of nostalgia."

Apart from getting the year wrong and failing to also mention Love and The Rolling Stones, they were dead on. Welcome To The Infant Freebase is timeless and absolutely brilliant - one of my top 10 favorite albums of all time.

Blank and Blues: All Blues

(Image by Wayne Potrafka)

Miles Davis: All Blues

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Corey Christiansen, Jimmy Bruno, Vic Juris: All Blues

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Miles Davis' tune All Blues is a jazz arrangement of a 12-bar blues. It first appeared on his 1959 Kind of Blue, which is on about a zillion Top Ten Jazz Albums Like Ever lists. The reasons for this are twofold: the tune itself is a intricate, lengthy improvisation based solely on chord scales, giving the musicians great freedom, and the players themselves were terrific artists at the top of their game. Let's see. Miles Davis, of course, on trumpet. Bill Evans on piano. Two stellar sax players: Cannonball Adderley on alto and the incomparable John Coltrane on tenor. Paul Chambers on base and Jimmy Cobb on drums. If I were to pick one single jazz song to play for curious alien visitors, this would be the one.

You know which musicians reaaally love to cover this? Guitarists! I'm looking at my not-all-that-extensive collection and even then, I've got covers by Larry Carlton, Pat Martino, George Benson, Stanley Jordan, Kenny Burrell, and Jim Hall. But the one I've chosen to share is by three - count 'em – three guitarists. I like this version because it's got that bluesy slide guitar intro that echoes the 12-bar blues origin of the song. Corey Christiansen is a professor of music at both Utah State and Indiana Universities, and he drops in to my town to play every so often. He's truly gifted and a nice guy to boot.

Blank and Blues: Chord Organ Blues

Daniel Johnston: Chord Organ Blues

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Daniel Johnston, perhaps the best songwriter the world has seen. The Beatles mixed with Randy Newman, carefully blended with a mental illness or two and topped off with an enthusiasm few can match.

The latter is to me a key component to his brilliance, and the main reason I prefer his earlier material from the first half of the 80s to his later work when he was still a hyperactive kid brimful of youthful exuberance recording ditties inbetween bouncing off the walls. There's just something about the unbridled energy of his earliest recordings I can't resist. 100% envigorating and life-affirming, despite the often bleak themes.

The lo-lo-lo-fi audio quality of these early recordings, his yelping, lisping voice and penchant for pouncing the keys of his chord organ so hard you can barely hear the notes he's playing are an acquired taste for sure, but anyone with a soft spot for classic pop with great hooks needs Daniel Johnston in their life.