"The Pretender" by Jackson Browne (1976)

Whatever it is you might think you have,
You have nothing to lose,
For every dead and living thing
Time runs like a fuse:

And the fuse is burning,
And the earth is turning.

I know I've long since blown this "album a day" thing. It's a great ambition but I've too much other stuff that I need to dedicate my brain cycles to.



It's not like I'm still listening to music every day, and that it doesn't continually churn in my head, like the outro solo/jam on the first cut on this album, "The Fuse". In fact, I think Jackson Browne, for me, has always been in the constant unconscious part of my brain ....

I guess they got a lot to do before
they can rest assured their lives
Are justified
Pray to God for me, babe,
He can let me slide.

Tomorrow (Sat 3/6) I will have attended my second funeral this week, of people who died young. My friend, Tommy, dropped dead at age 51. He had a great life. He was a drummer for a polka band.

Well I been up and down this highway,
Far as my eyes can see.
No matter how fast I run,
I can never seem to get away from me.
No matter where I am
I can't help thinking I'm just a day away
From where I want to be,
Now I'm running home, babe,
Like a river to the sea.

A couple of days ago Tommy was just a day away from being gone. You just never know.

Well I can see it in your eyes,
You've got those bright baby blues

I remember this girl, Amy M., when I was a freshman in college. She was gorgeous, extremely sexy and had these mesmerizing electric blue eyes. My friend Dave and I sat in his room in Pete Wright dorm and sang her this song, on our guitars with me singing harmony, this haunting song of hope and desperation, and she just sat there looking forlorn because we all somehow thought the song was about her. The next image I remember of her is the next semester, sneaking out of the boy's dorm at 8:00 a.m. on a Sunday, with her boyfriend dorm counselor.

You watch yourself from the sidelines
Like your life was a game
you don't mind playing
To keep yourself amused.
I don't mean to be cruel, babe,
But you're looking confused.

Baby, if you can hear me, turn down your radio,
There's just one thing I want you to know,
When you've been near me
I felt the love stirring in my soul.

I've been listening to Jackson Browne since I was in high school. He's always had a grounding effect on me. I think it's because he has a way of stripping off all of the rock-n-roll veneer and giving you something real:

It's so hard to come by, this feeling of peace
(This friend of mine said) Close your eyes
And try a few of these.
I thought I was flying like a bird
So far above my sorrows
But when I looked down, I was standing on my knees
Now I need someone to help me,
Someone to help me, please.

Jackson says here he needs someone to help him, but it's just his desperation in realizing that the only person that can help him is himself. "In the end there is one dance that you'll do alone." (That's from another JB album, but anyway.)

This album is full of loss and sadness. I read once where this album was recorded after his wife committed suicide. It has a lot of sobering images, especially the title track (and album cover picture), with lines like "the children solemnly wait for the ice cream vendor." It makes you feel like it's all fake, like it's all for nothing, like it doesn't matter. When I saw my friend Cindy tonight, Tommy's widow, it was just harrowing.

Living your life day after day
Soon all your plans and changes either fail or fade away

Tommy lived a good life. He will be remembered. But, in the end, Jackson reminds us that we each have to justify our own lives, and somehow find that kernel of existence:

Never should I had of tried so hard to make a love work out
I guess
I don't know what love has got to do with happiness
But the times that we were happy
Were the times we never tried.



What is life, if not the privilege of "getting up and doing it again"? When that stops happening, you are dead. Maybe the secret of life is the ability to continually fooling ourselves into being happy. If you really want to find it, it better be something beyond "whatever may lie in those things that money can buy". JB leaves us with a final admonition to "say a prayer for the Pretender", but I think what he is really trying to do is push us beyond the veil of post-modern emptiness to finally abandon shallow materialism and seek real truth, truth that lies in real people living real lives that make a difference.

Goodbye, Tommy, we miss you.

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44. "Oranges and Lemons" by XTC (1989)

Press "play" and let me tell you about the most brilliant pop song ever written, "The Mayor of Simpleton".



"Why?" you say.

Because has outstanding qualities in three important areas: lyrics, arrangement and musicality. All of these contribute to an overall double-meaning that offers the listener something new on each spin.

Lyrics:
Each verse has 2 lines of self-effacement:
Never been near a university
Never took a paper or a learning degree

Two lines of self-affirmation:
Some of your friends say that's stupid of me
But it's nothing that I care about

Two more lines of self-effacement (which have an end rhyme that goes with "Simpleton")
Well I don't know how to tell the weight of the sun
And of mathematics well I want none

And two lines of the main idea:
And I may be the Mayor of Simpleton
But I know one thing and that's I love you.

The bridge is a straightforward, impassioned plea for love:
I'm not proud of the fact that I never learned much
Just feel I should say
What you get is all real, I can't put on an act
It takes brains to do that anyway

And the final thought of the song:
When all logic grows cold and all thinking is done
You'll be warm in the arms of the Mayor of Simpleton.

So lyrically, we have a complex, but structured, wordy plea for affection based on evidence that the singer is a "simpleton". Sounds manipulative if you ask me. Yet there is believability that the singer is sincere, at least in his final statement and his declaration of love.

Arrangement:
The brillance of this song is the arpeggiated bass line that rambles up and down througout the song, giving an "unsure" sense to the message, as if the singer has trouble believing the argument himself. It is in the "self-effacement" lines, like Never been near a university / Never took a paper or a learning degree that this unsurity really comes through, as if the singer is wondering whether this lame argument is going to work.

Suddenly, however, in the "self-affirmation" lines, the bass gives up its rambling, plays the root of the chord, and gives the song a firm footing: Some of your friends say that's stupid of me ... etc. Then it's back to the rambling for the next two "self-effacement" lines, and back to the solid root notes when he says Mayor of Simpleton, but reverting to the uncertain rambling when he says I know one thing and that's I love you. So arrangement-wise, the bass is alternating between this unsure, bumbling, kid-like shuffling and this strong, man-like affirmation, which really comes through on the bridge, especially on the line, It takes brains to do that anyway. So which one should we believe?

Musicality
By that I mean the way the song is performed and put together. You have a singable, upbeat melody with a stong back-beat snare drum at the same time that you have the arpeggiated bass line. The guitar is present but minimal throughout most of the song, mostly providing off-beat fill but also some very subtle licks at crucial times. Partridge's vocals and his inflections bring home the sure/unsure feelings througout the song, where he alternates between hopeful sincerity and desperation, with just the right hint of male bravado. The vocal harmonies add that extra element of showiness that borders on being too much but in reality make the song.

Message
The final message of the song hits home with the final chorus when Partridge finally declares, with the bass firmly in the root, You'll be warm in the arms of the Mayor of Simpleton. Final statement. But then the song ends with that rambling feeling that makes us feel that, now that he's played his trump card, he's unsure of the response.

What we are presented with is a double message because, as we have mentioned, the lyrics indicate that he is someone simple, but in reality we have a complex, crafted message. And the line What you get is all real I can't put on an act / it takes brains to do that anyway is just a bluff. Everyone knows plenty of stupid people who don't tell the truth. But this is more than just an act, it is a well thought-out, intriguing presentation, even a proposal, if you will.. So does he really love her or is he just trying to bluff her? If he is bluffing he certainly goes to a lot of trouble, so she must be worth it.

The only thing we can really trust, in the end, is his sincerity. He shows us that though he may be a complex person, he really has one, simple message: I love you. So why all the complicated gyrations? Because for whatever reason he feels the need to show off in order to get her validation. The song ends up delivering a universal theme: the eternal dance of the sexes, and the jumping around is not unlike some strutting peacock seeking his ladybird's reaction.

And that is why I believe this is the most brilliant pop song ever written.

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p.s. Happy Valentine's Day.

43. "I'm Good Now" by Bob Schneider (2004)

Look, ya'll. I found the coolest thing in the whole wide world. I can put links to songs on my blog now. Check it out:



Ok, so I'm kind of getting behind on my blogging. I certainly can listen to a CD a day, because I do that anyway, but it's awfully hard to find the time to blog about them all. So if I don't have anything earth-shattering to say I'm just going to put them up and say whether I liked them or not.

I'm digging Bob Schneider. All you 40-somethings (or over) out there who are stuck on the 70s, you should listen to Bob. I have to say that this album, when I first listened to it a couple of weeks ago, sounded kind of like he wasn't sure if he wanted to be "Texas Country" like Pat Green, etc., because there are a couple of songs on here like that (especially the title cut), but I have to say I have considerably warmed to this album. There's a kind of feel-good groove to this album, if you don't count the couple that seem out of place ("C'mon Baby" and "Bridge Builders"). But the more I listen to it the more I like it. It even has a nice pretty final song, "Getting Better", that is kind of lovey-dovey. Aw.

We should all like Bob Schneider. He is a hard-working Austin musician who deserves to hit it big because he's paid his dues and lord knows he's at least as good as a lot of the other crap out there.

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42. "Ghost in the Machine" by The Police (1981)

I don't like to get nostalgic in these posts but I just remember getting really excited when this album came out. I was a freshman in college and Grant, Dave and I blew off some rehearsal or another one weeknight to drive from Fort Worth to Dallas to see them at Reunion Arena (which was recently demolished). We all got yelled at the next day when we showed up in our Police t-shirts.

I like the Police because they resisted doing the "has-been" tour for a really long time, something like 25 years, then they did ONE tour and that was it. As far as this album goes I think it has some fine moments, but the first two albums to me have more of a raw feel which really makes this band memorable. It's like Sting took piano lessons and had to work keyboards into this album. "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" is the big hit off of this album (see the cheesy 80s video below) but I think my favorite cuts are the lesser known ones like "Too Much Information" and "One World (Not Three)".

Plus there is a lot of jumping around, which a lot of bands from that era seemed to do. Jumping around is cool. Oh yeah, we were also really excited when we figured out that the computer-looking pictures on the album cover were actually the three band members: Andy, Sting and Stewart. The "ghost in the machine" are humans, man.

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41. "Grave Dancer's Union" by Soul Asylum (1992)

I tried to get a good job
With honest pay
Might as well join the mob
The benefits are okay
Standing in the sun with a popsicle
Everything is possible
With a lot of luck and a pretty face
And some time to waste

You leave without a trace
Leave without a trace
Leave without a trace

I tried to dance at a funeral
New Orleans style
I joined the Grave Dancer's Union
I had to file
Trying to do the right thing, play it straight
The right thing changes from state to state
Don't forget to take your mace
If you're out working late

I liked to see your face
You left without a trace
Leave without a trace

Life is absurd and you have to make the best of it if you want to stay sane. Is David Pirner of Soul Asylum an "absurdist hero" because he is faced with an absurd situation and keeps on going anyway? Maybe. The other day I was watching a re-run of "The Office", when Michael Scott finally realized that his girlfriend was taking advantage of him and he was broke because she ran up all his credit cards. He walks out of the office, walks to the railroad tracks, sits in a boxcar, and sings a chorus of "Runaway Train":

I can go where no one else can go
I know what no one else knows
here I am just a-drownin' in the rain
With a ticket for a runaway train
An everything seems cut and dried
Day and night, earth and sky
Somehow I just don't believe it

Runaway train, never going back
Wrong way on a one-way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I'm neither here nor there

The train never moves for Michael Scott, by the way; his girlfriend shows up and he has to face his problems after all.

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p.s. There is a short ad to start the video. The 90s were so cool.


Soul Asylum - Without A Trace (Official Music Video) - Watch more top selected videos about: Soul_Asylum

40. "Wormwood" by Moe. (2003)

The header to this blog suggests that a large majority of the CDs in my collection are actually the crappy ones that I am left with because my kids stole all the good ones. This CD is actually kind of a reverse of that: I have no idea where it came from or how it ended up in my collection.

Well, I have some idea. I mean I can't really say I have "no" idea, because I have an idea. I mean, it didn't come from Mars, nobody broke into my house and put it there, etc. The idea is that one of my kids got this CD, didn't like it, and forgot about it. Since no one, to my knowledge, has ever played it, it never got separated from its case and has therefore remained in fairly pristine condition in the "M" section. I have always known it was there because of its bright yellow cardboard packaging. Until this week I had never listened to it nor had any idea what kind of music was on it. Ok, well, I had some idea because, after all, I know what kind of music gets played around here.

Moe is a jam band, and I really am not much into jam band music. I gave this CD an honest two listens. I am still not a jam band fan, mainly because of this type of thought-deterring lyricism:

Back in the summer of 88
I didn't know how to rock and roll
I saw your face as i drove away
How could i know what you'd do to my soul?
Goodbye suzie goodbye UNH
Ive been down this road before
I said that right when i hit LA
Im feelin alright
Im feelin okay

Okay, Alright
Okay, Alright
Okay, Alright
Okay, Alright

Did you know that this is like Moe's eighth album? Neither did I. How about this one, "Kids":

Hey Michael
How are you my friend?
Hey Michael
How the hell have you been?

Do you remember that time
Way back when we were nine
You tried to be my good friend
And yet I turned you in

Kids will try to run you over
Kids will try to bring you down
Kids will never say they're sorry
Kids back then are older now

Jam bands are not my thing. I never understood the Grateful Dead either. I mean, I understood their lyrics just fine, but I never understood the appeal. Bands like this one, Widespread Panic, The String Cheese Incident and Phish are cool I guess. To each his own. Actually I kind of like Phish becuase they are such awesome musicians. But I will sell you "Moe" disk real cheap if you want it.

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p.s. I couldn't find a video of these guys that wasn't a cell phone upload.

39. "Mud Slide Slim and the Blue Horizon" by James Taylor (1971)

So close your eyes,
you can close your eyes
it's alright
I don't know no love songs
And I can't sing the blues anymore
But I can sing this song
And you can sing this song when I'm gone

Now before you think I'm going all cheesy on you let me tell you that for me listening to James Taylor is going back to my musical roots, man. As a high school kid, JT is the first singer I really ever got, that really ever made sense to me in a poetic way. In a sense I can attribute all of this musical pontification to first being inspired by James Taylor. I'm serious. Well, JT and Jackson Browne, but we'll get to JB later.

It's a shame that James gets dissed by people thinking he's too vanilla and schmaltzy. His early stuff -- which is up through the album "JT" -- has that certain magical quality of being simple yet complex at the same time. Lyrically he's straightforward, but with that vein of melancholy that makes you consider some undefined pain or longing, especially when referring to traveling:

I had a little woman in Memphis
She wanted to be my bride
She said, settle on down, traveling man
You can stay right by my side
I tried so hard to please her
But I couldn't hold out too long
'Cause one Saturday night I was laying in bed
And I heard that highway song
Back on the highway, yeah, yeah, yeah
Back on the road again

There's just something about this early JT that goes with the fall of the year, when the sunlight is at a certain angle, that stirs up the restlessness oh so subtly in the soul. It's that part of you that is impelled to move out of that place of slumber, something disquieting, not like a clap of thunder, but like the wind changing directions:

Love is just a word I've heard when things are being said
Stories my poor head has told me cannot stand the cold
And in between what might have been and what has come to pass
A misbegotten guess alas and bits of broken glass

I think there is a certain poetic appeal to being a wandering seeker, someone who is hungry for truth and light; but I think in the end we all have to make some kind of choices. Still, it's in our nature to be restless -- in mine anyway -- and on certain days when the wind is blowing just right and the sky clouds over in that sort of uncertain way that you don't know if it's going to rain or just be drizzly and nasty, that life just seems like some sort of highway, and all you can do is get up, make a move, and don't let the grass grow under your feet:

I said all the dead head miles
And the insincere smiles
Sometimes I can laugh and cry
And I can't remember why
But I still love those
Good times gone by
Hold on to them close or let them go, oh no
I don't know
I just seem to sing these songs
And say I'm sorry for the friends I used to know

It's on those days, like this specific overcast pissing rain Monday, February 8, 2010, driving in my car up highway 77, that I get it:

Sweet misunderstanding, won't you leave a poor boy alone
I'm a one-eyed seed of a tumbleweed
In the valley of a rolling stone

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38. "Dark Side of the Moon" by Pink Floyd (1973)

I don't know what to say about the greatest rock album ever recorded that hasn't already been said. Somehow or other my copy of it got lost so I bought another copy at Cheapo Disks when I was in Austin on Saturday. I listened to it on Sunday while I was cleaning up my home office. It sounds as good on my Polk Audio bookshelf speakers as the first time I played it in my 8-track Pioneer Super Tuner in my '68 Ford Fairlane when I was 17. I am looking forward to listening to it when I am 65 on the newly remastered octophonic version with on my full-body sound experience system. Some things are timeless, but the great thing about music is that it can always be experienced in new and different ways.

But I guess the thing that forever changed my appreciation of this album was when I heard about the "strange synchronicity" that the album has with the movie "The Wizard of Oz". "Balanced on the biggest wave / race towards an early grave", indeed. You don't have to believe me, check out these geeks and the following video clip:



"There is no dark side of the moon really. Matter of fact it's all dark."

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37. Beethoven: The Final Piano Sonatas, Op. 109, 110, 111

(This recording: Analekta, 2004

Sonata No. 30 in E Major, Op. 109
Sonata No. 31 in A-flat Major, Op. 110
Sonata No. 32 in C Minor, Op. 111

Anton Kuerti, piano)



Emily and I went to see Anton Kuerti play Beethoven sonatas on Friday night and I bought this cd. This guy is a phenomenal virtuoso and is regarded as being one of the greatest living pianists, especially as an interpreter of Beethoven, Schubert and Schumann.

I had never heard these sonatas before and they are among the last that Beethoven wrote.

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36. "I Told You I Was Freaky" by Flight of the Conchords (2009)

I think the funniest thing about this disk isn't any particular song but the whole rap and hip-hop persona that these guys put on. And they are rappers. It hurts their feelings when you say they are not. "Rappers have feelings too", you know:

Have you ever been told that your ass is too big?
Have you ever been asked if your hair is a wig?
Have you ever been told you're mediocre in bed?
Have you ever been told you've got a weird-shaped head?
...
Tears of a rapper (tears of a rapper)
I'm cryin' tears of a rapper (tears of a rapper)

Wierdos and misfits unite! These guys are our heroes:

Let's take a photo of a goat in a boat
And then we can float in a moat and be freaky
Freak-ay

Let's take my body and we'll cover it with honey
Stick some money to the honey
Now I'm covered in money, honey

I go outside onto the ledge and push my ass against the glass
You can act like you don't know me

I'll take a cup and then I'll put it on my head
And I'll just stand there bein' freaky with a cup on my head

I told you I was freaky (I told you I was freaky, baby)
You didn't believe me (Don't look at me)
I told you I was freaky (Hey look at me)
Girl, let's get freaky

Then there is the reggae song from the episode where Jemaine decides the only way he can make money is to pimp himself out as a male prostitute. Its similarity to the song "Roxanne" by the Police is unmistakable:

You don't have to be a prostitute
No, no, no, no, no
You can say no to being a man ho
A male gigolo
You don't have to be a prostitute
No, no, no, no, no
You can say no to being a night looker
Boy hooker, rent boy, bro ho

The songs lose a little something without the visual, but most of them are strong enough to stand on their own. "Carol Brown" is my favorite:

Loretta broke my heart in a letter
She told me she was leaving and her life would better
Joan broke it off over the phone
After the tone she left me alone

Jen said she'd never ever see me again
When I saw her again she said it again
Jan met another man
Lisa got amnesia just forgot who I am

Felicity said there was no electricity
Emily, no chemistry
Fran ran, Bruce turned out to be a man
Flo had to go, I couldn't go with the flow

Carol Brown just took a bus out of town
But I'm hoping that you'll stick around

The disk even comes with a poster. Cool.

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35. "Smash" by the Offspring (1994)

It wasn't until Lady Sunshine suggested I listen to Bad Religion (see Jan. 14 post) that I gained a fuller appreciation for the punk genre and what is going on with it. The album opens with an in-your-face thrash with "Nitro" and rocks hard all the way through. There are some very strong punk elements on this disk, but also some "back-beat" rock and roll songs as well.

One of those songs, and the reason I bought this album, is what I consider to be the best song ever written about a dysfunctional relationship, "Self-Esteem":

I wrote her off for the tenth time today
And practiced all the things I would say
But she came over
I lost my nerve
I took her back and made her dessert

Now I know I'm being used
That's okay man cause I like the abuse
I know she's playing with me
That's okay cause I got no self esteem

The frustration really comes through in the instrumentality and Dexter Holland's vocals. The reason this song is such a psychological anthem is because of the following line, which I think pretty much sums up all the angst and denial in just about every relationship, good and bad:

Well I guess I should speak up for myself
But I really think it's better this way
The more you suffer
The more it shows you really care

There is no perfect relationship. There is no perfect marriage. This song makes you think, when is forgiveness healthy and when is it just rolling over? All "functional" relationships are dysfunctional to some extent.

Right? yeah yeah yeah

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34. "A Day at the Races" by Queen (1976)

I am a child of the 70s and I had the 45 of "Somebody to Love" but I never owned this album on vinyl. Freddie Mercury's incredible vocal performance here rates him, in my mind, as the best rock vocalist of all time. I am hard pressed to think of another with as much range, versatility, expression and control as him. Even more impressive, given the technology of the early 70s, are the overdubbed "choirs" on songs like "Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy" and "Somebody to Love" which are all Freddie. Coupled with Brian May's guitar work, which range from the grinding in "Tie Your Mother Down" to the symphonic in "Millionaire Waltz", the result is a production masterpiece.

I was a little late coming to like Queen and I bought this disk in the early 90s, when I was about 30. I appreciated their radio singles, but, frankly, coming from small-town Texas, I had a problem with their homosexuality. I say "had" because it was this album that literally changed thinking on the matter. As a wannabe singer I had always adored "Somebody to Love" for Mercury's incredible expressiveness, but always had a hangup that, ... well, I might as well just say it ... that he might be singing about a dude.

Then I bought this disk and heard the art and creativity in "Take My Breath Away", "Millionaire Waltz" and "Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy" and really had to re-consider: can I love these songs for their universal aspects, even though I may not be able to relate to the personal experience of the writer/performer?

And that, my friends, is the essence of artistic interpretation. Except for something labeled as autobiographical, when is the artist's life relevant to the interpretation of a work? Isn't the artist putting on the role of "narrator" and creating a persona who is not himself or herself? At the same time you have to consider the time and manner in which the work is produced, and Queen's flamboyancy in the mid 70s is legendary, not to mention the fact that later in his life Mercury became an outspoken advocate for gay rights and "We Are the Champions" became an anthem.

To get philosophical for a minute, Queen was instrumental in the evolution of the dialogue regarding gay awareness and gay rights. Probably they weren't thinking about it when they were recording, but by creating a work of art that appeals to those of us with a straight-laced country-boy background, they moved the dialogue from the fringe to the mainstream. Because if I can ignore the "gayness" and apply "Take My Breath Away" to my personal heterosexual experience then I can accept that someone else may have a totally different application of it. The key is realizing that each of our own interpretations is not universally "right", it's just personally "right". And that's OK.

Listen to this album. It is amazing.

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33. "Tribalistas" by Marisa Monte, Carlinhos Brown & Arnaldo Antunes (2003)

In 2000 and 2001 I made four trips to Brazil while working for a computer software company. It is a really lovely place and I met a lot of nice people and tried really hard to communicate by converting my Spanish knowledge to Portuguese, which is a little tricky but after a while I got to be where I was at least functional.

So I really got enamored with Brazilian music and acquired a few CDs. This is one I bought a couple of years later after I heard a couple of tracks on KUT (90.5), which is the public radio station in Austin. They have a show on Friday afternoons at 1:00 called Horizontes, which plays Brazilian and Latin American music for a couple of hours, which to me is a great way to spend a Friday afternoon if you're in the car or can listen at work. When I used to travel a lot it seemed like it was always on when I was in the car coming home from the Austin airport after being gone all week.

Anyway this album is a joint project by three very popular Brazilian artists, singer/producer Marisa Monte, percussionist Carlinhos Brown, and Arnaldo Antunes. Monte has a really lovely voice and I have another album of hers as well. From a straight-up musical perspective I think the album is a little lackluster--there are 3 or 4 pretty good songs and the rest sound a little like filler. Even not being really familiar with their work, the album still feels a little like this was a "lark" of a project that they threw together over a weekend, not something that they really planned and collaborated on.

Having said that, I really love the song "Passe em casa", which means, "come to my house".

Passam pássaros e aviões e no chão os caminhões
Passa o tempos as estações, passam andorinhas e verões

Passe em casa tô te esperando, tô te esperando (2x)

Estou esperando visita tão impaciente e aflita
Se você não passa no morro eu quase morro, eu quase morro
Estou implorando socorro, ou quase morro, ou quase morro
Vida sem graça se você não passa no morro

(Birds and planes go by and on the ground the trucks
Time passes and the seasons pretty and green

Pass by my house, I am waiting for you

I am waiting for a visit, so impatient and upset
If you don't come by the house to see me I almost die)

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32. "Summerteeth" by Wilco (1999)

OK, I made it to February and the blog is still going. If you're keeping up you'll notice that I sometimes write these entries a few days late then put a previous date on them, but so what.

"So what," I say, because that's the theme of today's album. I'm taking a class right now on 20th century Latin American literature and we are talking a lot about existentialiam. The problem with existentialism is that sometimes it seems like its only purpose is to bring us down and show us the hopelessness of the human condition. Kafka woke up as a roach; that has to suck. Now I think these guys are really great thinkers who have opened up some new realities and new ways of thinking, especially to the Western mind, but eventually you have to say, enough, what do we do about it?

"Summerteeth" to me is post-existential. It's kind of like you have the blackest, worst realization, of all the heaviness in your heart, and the first realization that you have the next morning is,

Our prayers will never be answered again
...
You know it's all beginning (it's all beginning)
To feel like it's ending (feels like it's ending)
No love's as random
As God's love
I can't stand it
I can't stand it

In other words, we are on our own.

This album has some pain and emptiness in it, for sure, but it comes out in these songs as kind of "processed" pain, if I can use that word. It's not, "things suck", but more like "things suck and here's what I did". Some of these songs are very straightforward:

How to fight loneliness?
Smile all the time
Shine you teeth 'til meaningless
And sharpen them with lies
...
And the first thing that you want
Will be the last thing you ever need
That's how you fight it
Just smile all the time

And some are a little self-destructive:

Maybe all I need is a shot in the arm
Something in my veins, bloodier than blood

And rash (from "Via Chicago")

I dreamed about killing you again last night
And it felt alright to me
Dying on the banks of Embarcadero skies
I sat and watched you bleed

Buried you alive in a fireworks display
Raining down on me
Your cold, dark blood
Ran away from me to the sea

The point of all this pain is the acceptance of our own mortality and smallness. We can't really do any good in the world until we realize that. And maybe along the way we can "make it back" to a "home" once in a while, even if it is "Via Chicago".

Tweedy gets it, and he says so in the song "Summerteeth", when he points out that his little songs really don't mean that much in the grand scheme of things, and that anyone listens to them at all is just some kind of dumb luck that seems unreal. I would submit that this realization is what makes him a great songwriter:

He feels lucky to have you here
In his kitchen, in your chair
Sometimes he forgets that you're even there

It's just a dream he keeps having
And it doesn't seem to mean anything
It's just a dream he keeps having

"In a Future Age" is probably the most poetic song Tweedy's ever written. It is a good way to close this thought, that we are only here for a while, which sucks, but we aren't the first and hopefully we won't be the last. Oh well. What are we going to do in the meantime?

Genuine
Day will come
When the wind
Decides to run
And shakes the stairs
That stab the wall
And turns the page
In a future age

Some trees will bend
And some will fall
But then again
So will us all

Lets turn our prayers
Into outrageous dares
And mark our page
In a future age

High above
The sea of cars
And barking dogs
In fenced-in yards

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31. "Rio de Colores" by Strunz and Farah (2003)

These guys are some amazing flamenco guitar players. Jorge Strunz is from Costa Rica and Ardeshir Ferah is from Iran. They met in the US in 1979 and have been recording and performing ever since. We went to see these guys in 2003 at the One World Theater in Austin and I have a signed copy of this album.

The album is all instrumental and also features a flute player by the name of Pedro Eustache, who also signed the CD cover.

I think the most amazing this about them is how well they play together and echo each other's riffs. Farah is by far the more technical player, but Strunz (who appears older) seems to have that little bit of "soul" (for lack of a better term) that makes it more sincere. The first cut, "Matambu" is probably my favorite since I once put it on a mix CD, but this album offers much to explore. Good Sunday listening.

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p.s. While I'm at it here let me give a shout-out to the great radio stations in Austin, TX that play this kind of stuff on a regular basis. I would have never heard of these guys had they not been played on KGSR. I think that station has gone a little more mainstream these days, but they still manage to mix in an eclectic track or two like Strunz and Ferah. And don't get me started on how KUT has changed my life -- I'll leave that for another day.

30. Beethoven: Piano Sonata No. 8, "Pathetique"; Piano Concerto No 5, "Emperor"

(This recording: LaserLight Digital, 1990
Piano Concerto No. 5 in E flat major, Op. 73 "Emperor"
Anton Dikov, piano w/ Sofia Philharmonic Orch.

Piano Sonata No. 8 in C minor, Op. 13 "Pathetique"
Istvan Szekely, piano)

From the first chord of the first movement of the "Pathetique" sonata you feel heaviness. The plodding quarter note rhythm of the first section pushes you down into the mud. When the rhythm picks up it is only like so much rain, relentlessly washing over you with something that should be refreshing and life-giving, but is too much. Again, Beethoven repeats the form, coming back to the same place, then returning only more forcefully, in waves and weighing down the piece with the left hand. When the melody rises it is always like water seeking a new level, and then it cascades, falling, falling, sometimes trippingly but always down, into the mire.

The second movement, adagio cantable, is an often quoted melody which tenderly, if hesitantly, greets the clearing sky with a sense of weary anticipation. The major key indicates hope, but in the end it is overcome by complete exhaustion and sleep at last.

The third movement, the rondo, assesses the damage and it is not good. There are some hints at a rebuilding process, but in the end we are back to Adam's situation, when, after the fall, he was cursed by God to toil all of the days of his life. It's your choice to take your bread bitter or sweet.

Beethoven is the greatest musician that ever lived. He says more in this sonata than all rock albums put together. But still we still write and we still play, because ... well, because we are the living.

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29. "Catching Tales" by Jamie Cullum (2005)

Do not buy this album. Do not borrow this album. Do not download it from iTunes. Don't get a burn from your friend. It sucks.

He plays piano alright. But I guess I'm totally rubbed the wrong way by guys like Jamie Cullum and Michael Bublé who only have a small amount of talent and try to cop some crooner Sinatra wannabe act.

So here this guy comes to try to put some hip new spin on an old genre. I saw him on t.v. once and he has this fun little shtick where he dances around and plays piano standing up. It's only good for a couple of songs, or when he covers Radiohead or Hendrix (like on his previous album "Twenty Something"). This album has none of that magic. His songs really aren't that good and coming from a piano player, this album is remarkably devoid of any interesting solos.

I've had this album in my collection for a few years and after the first few listens I've hardly touched it. This time around the thing rode around in my car in CD changer position #6 for two whole weeks before I finally listened to it. It was only because I took a road trip from my house to Waco, then Houston and back that I finally got around to playing it, and even then it was a chore getting through it. Some stuff is hard to listen to no matter how monotonous the highway gets.

The main problem with Cullum is that he can't decide who he wants to be. If you want to play Sinatra, go for it, but do it up right. By the same token, if you want to be a piano player, do your best Bruce Hornsby, Ben Folds or even Billy Joel -- at least those guys are serious about their instrument. Cullum's cheap crooner/piano player gimmick is wearing thin. Even Harry Connick, Jr. has that New Orleans thing going -- this guy's got nothin'.

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p.s. And that goes for you too, Michael Bublé. I saw you on Saturday Night Live the other night and you were totally uninspiring. You can't sing either.

28. "The Globe Sessions" by Sheryl Crow (1999)

Although this album won a Grammy for "Best Rock Album" in 1999 it has met to mixed reviews. If you look up the album on amazon.com you will see a really scathing one about how all of the songs lack sincerity. I'm not saying it's the best album ever but I've always thought this album was kind of cool and thoughtful. I read somewhere that she made this album after a period of depression -- why do songwriters always put out their best stuff after being depressed?

"My Favorite Mistake" is rumored to be about an affair she had with Eric Clapton. Hmmm. It has a really nice guitar hook -- does that incriminate old Slowhand?

The harsher critics have a point -- some of the songs come off like she's trying to hard to be street-smart when she's really not -- but it still sounds real for us wanna-be white people who once went to a Denny's in Austin, TX at 3:00 a.m. "There Goes the Neighborhood" indeed.

I like "Anything But Down" and "The Difficult Kind" and the little jam on "Part 2" of "Am I Getting Through", but I really can't say anything profound about this album.

What does that say about me? And my place in society? Am I lame? Why do I feel like I have to keep justifying myself for liking Sheryl Crow?

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27. "Another Fine Day" by Golden Smog (2006)

Golden Smog is a "supergroup" of sorts, with several different members from different bands: Soul Asylum, the Jayhawks, and Jeff Tweedy of Wilco. I like the Jayhawks and Soul Asylum, but as I have noted elsewhere, I am a huge fan of Wilco, and Tweedy's presence on this album is pretty much the only reason I bought it.

It's very listenable and it has some nice cuts on it, the title track being one of them and the friendly "5-22-02". But I obsess about Wilco sometimes and can't help but hear stuff on this album that sounds like them. For example, there are several songs that I swear start out like "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart" (from Wilco's "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot").

I really want to like this album, and I have tried several times. But there's something missing, some kind of pop or hook which would make me come back to it again. In the end it's just "average" as far as I'm concerned. I don't hate it, but .... well, I guess my take on it is, "Eeeeeeeeeh, it's ok."

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26. "Make Yourself" by Incubus (1999)

OK. Brandon Boyd is a great singer. And I like their sound, especially this album, which is one of my favorites. But sometimes I get tripped up on the stupidity of some of their lyrics. To wit (from the title cut):

If I hadn't made me, I'd have fallen apart by now.
I won't let them make me..It's more than I can allow.
So when I make me, I won't be paper-maiche..
And if I f*** me...I'll f*** me in my own way.

Really? This album, which is all about individuality and responsibility, on the title cut, this is the best you could come up with? "F* me in my own way"? Really. That's your message. See, it kind of puts a damper on the whole thing for me.

Despite the inanity, I still like this album and have listened to it many times. There really isn't a bad song on this disk, and musically it really kicks butt and Boyd's vocals really sparkle, especially in the higher registers. And it starts strong (from "Privilege"):

Find yourself a back door
I see you in line dragging your feet
You have my sympathy
The day you were born you were born free
That is your
That is your privilege

I really like the vocals, for example, on "The Warmth". But then you get some kind of hack lyric like this from "When It Comes" and it almost ruins it:

And it feels like a matador is taunting me with his reddest red cloth and I am the bull.
Yes I feel emphatic about not being static
and not eating the bullshit that's being fed to me no more...
cause' now I'm full.

Anyway, to wrap this up, I think "Drive" is one of the most played songs of the last 10 years (I remember seeing some kids playing it at a high school graduation, ha) and I really, really like "Pardon Me" partially because of this verse:

Not two days ago,
I was having a look
in a book
and I saw a picture of a guy
fried up above his knee.
I said, "I can relate,"
cause lately I've been thinking of combustication
as a welcome vacation from
the burdens of
the planet Earth.
like gravity, hypocrisy,
and the perils of being in 3-D...
but thinking so much differently.

"Combustication" and "the perils of being free". OK, there's some deep thought there after all.

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25. "Midnite Vultures" by Beck (1999)

Let's talk about composers: Beck is a great one.

These guys, Mozart and Schubert, they were amazing, creative men who revolutionized music in their time. We like to think of their music as "old", but in their time they were not only innovative with the new technology (i.e. the "pianoforte"), they incorporated other styles and genres into their music. For example, a style called "Strum und Drang" was a German style of music and poetry that was popular before Mozart's time that he sometimes incorporated, or alluded to, in his music. In fact, it can be shown that part of Mozart's genius was his ability to borrow and synthesize various styles into that of his own.

I think you see where I'm going with this. "Midnite Vultures" sounds like a disco throwback album, but with updated electronics. There are some really nice funk grooves here and even a horn section. There are parts that sound like Prince. One of my favorite tracks, "Beautiful Way", is a slow groove that features a pedal steel and a harmonica. My favorite track, "Mixed Bizness", has a guitar riff and horns that pretty much rips off The Ohio Players.

I shouldn't say "ripped off" because Beck does it in such great style that makes me want to go and buy an Ohio Players CD and listen to it. (Ha, notice I didn't say, "Put on the record album.")

So I can't say that I am a Beck aficionado because I've only listened to it a couple of times now (at the behest of Emily), but I can say that this is a fun dance party album in a good, grooving way that makes you remember the best parts of disco and funk and which omits the afros, disco balls and shoes with really tall heels.

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24. Mozart: Piano Concertos No. 13 & 23

(This recording: LaserLight Digital, 1990)

There's just something about Mozart drifting through the house on a Sunday morning when the windows are open and the breeze wafting through. Cup of coffee and the newspaper. Think I'll read the comics and do the crossword too.

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23. Schubert: Piano Quintet in A ("The Trout")

(This recording: LaserLight Digital, 1988 --
The Colorado String Quartet
Danielle Dechenne, Piano)

Franz Schubert died in 1828 in Vienna at the age of 31. At the time the cause of death was listed as typhoid fever but modern researchers think he probably had syphilis. During his brief lifetime he composed over 1000 works, about 600 of which are "lieder", which are songs. This quintet is unusual because of the instrumentation. Most quintets are composed of a piano plus a string quartet -- two violins, a viola and a cello. In the "Trout" one of the violins is replaced with a double bass. The work was composed when Schubert was 22 but was not published until 1829, a year after his death.

So yeah. I've been thinking about all this music I've been listening to and how the good stuff usually has two or three underlying meanings. Like I never thought of Steely Dan's "Gaucho" as depressing until I really listened to it. I'm beginning to think it's all depressing. Check out this commentary on the piece from Wikipedia:

2. Andante in F major (the flattened submediant of the work's main key, A major). This movement is composed of two symmetrical sections, the second being a transposed version of the first, except for some differences of modulation which allow the movement to end in the same key in which it began. Each section contains three themes, the second of which is notable for its poignancy. The striking feature of this movement is its tonal layout: the tonality changes chromatically, in ascending half tones, according to the following scheme (some intermediate keys of lower structural significance have been omitted): F major - F sharp minor - G major - A flat major - A minor - F major. Such a tonal structure is revolutionary to the harmonic concept of Classical composers such as Mozart and Beethoven.

Bummer. I thought it was just a pretty song.

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22. "Gaucho" by Steely Dan (1980)

Well I should know by now
That it's just a spasm
Like a Sunday in T.J.
That it's cheap but it's not free
That I'm not what I used to be
And that love's not a game for three

(TJ = Tijuana for you neophytes.)

Again with the age thing.

This album, by the way, is all about being burned-out on living the fast L.A. lifestyle. It has a very California feel to it. There are some pretty overt drug references, like "chasing the dragon" in Time Out of Mind and "the Cuervo Gold, the Fine Colombian" in Hey Nineteen; and lots of commentary on the "glamor profession", but this album is all about coming out defeated on the other side. There is really not a flattering portrait of anyone or anything on this collection, despite the upbeat sound of the thing.

The song that especially portrays this sentiment is the extravagant title cut, which satirizes the gay lifestyle. Now, I know Becker and Fagen are not gay, so on one hand this song comes off a little bit homophobic, or at the least stereotypical. On the other hand it is just the icing on the ironic cake (no pun intended on yesterday's entry):

Who is the gaucho amigo
Why is he standing
In your spangled leather poncho
And your elevator shoes
Bodacious cowboys
Such as your friend
Will never be welcome here
High in the Custerdome

By the way, nobody knows what the heck is a "Custerdome". I think the key word here is "high". Plus I always liked that line,

No he can't sleep on the floor
What do you think I'm yelling for?
I'll drop him near the freeway
Doesn't he have a home?

Yes, this album is about drugs. The "gaucho amigo" is the stupid choice you made when you were high that you thought you couldn't live without, but now you can't get rid of it. It's not his fault -- he can't help it that he's a "bodacious cowboy" -- but he doesn't belong in your house living with you. Now you have to do something drastic to get rid of him.

Get the message? It is for any of us who has ever repetitively, or addictively, engaged in something stupid and is now trying to live with the empty consequences. And I think that's something we can all relate to.

And you thought these lyrics were nonsense.

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p.s. The copy of this album I have is actually on Disk 4 of the collection "Citizen Steely Dan". If my kids are reading this, I would like to know the whereabouts of disks 1-3. Love, Dad.

21. "Fashion Nugget" by Cake (1996)

If I had to come up with a term to describe this band it would be "post-modern." The reason is because, by and large, their songs tend to be sparse and scripted -- that is, there are not a lot of "jamming" and "improv" in Cake music. John McCrea's flat baritone, which he mixes in with occasional spoken word, are in stark contrast to the grunge scene which they came out of. It's like they are conveying more or less the same message and emotion as grunge, but in a totally opposite style.

McCrea has an ironic wit that is acerbic and biting (from "Frank Sinatra"):

We know of an ancient radiation
That haunts dismembered constellations,
A faintly glimmering radio station.
While Frank Sinatra sings Stormy Weather,
The flies and spiders get along together,
Cobwebs fall on an old skipping record.

Your music may be great but sooner or later it will be old and forgotten.

I've listened to and more or less absorbed all of Cake's albums and I have to say that by far this one is the darkest. Maybe it's because it's the most direct:

To me, coming from you,
Friend is a four letter word.
End is the only part of the word
That I heard.
Call me morbid or absurd.
But to me, coming from you,
Friend is a four letter word.
To me, coming from you,
Friend is a four letter word.

I know I just said that most of their songs feel "scripted", and they do, but "Fashion Nugget", compared to the other albums, has the most "improv" on it. Like I said, it's the most direct and emotional, so you get a couple of honest guitar solos (like the one on "Nugget") and even a jazzy trumpet solo on "Italian Leather Sofa". Cake's biggest radio hit, "The Distance", appears here, but the marquee song on this album is their cover of the 70s disco hit "I Will Survive". Something in McCrea's deadpan delivery just smacks of irony: in the same way that Gloria Gaynor was sort of heroically inspiring, McCrea takes you to that place of resolution where you know that that the sun is going to come up tomorrow no matter what kind of crap happens today. (From "Nugget":)

Now Heads of State who ride and wrangle,
Who look at your face from more than one angle,
Can cut you from their bloated budgets
Like sharpened knives through Chicken McNuggets.
...
Now nimble fingers that dance on numbers
Will eat your children and steal your thunder,
While heavy torsos that heave and hurl
Who crunch like nuts in the mouths of squirrels.

Shut the f**k.
Shut the f**k up.
Learn to buck up.
Shut the f**k.
Learn to buck up.

What you have to like about Cake is that they fuse together a lot of different styles in their music to create a common ironic message: life is tough, pardner. You can't even make a dime off of the song you wrote about it:

I'll tell all about how you cheated.
I'd like for the whole world to hear.
I'd like to get even
With you cause you're leavin'.
But sad songs and waltzes aren't selling this year.

I once heard an interview on NPR with John McCrea and the interviewer got hung up on the cutesy little things in the lyrics, like it was all a joke, instead of the underlying irony in their intrinsic message. In other words, it's easy to dismiss Cake as complaining all the time. But sometimes you need that extra voice, that biting wit, delivered completely out of context, that gives you another perspective and makes you realize that all is not as it seems. This is what Cake brings to the table.

Daria, I won't be soothed over like,
Smoothed over like milk,
Silk, a bedspread, or a quilt,
Icing on a cake,
Or a serene translucent lake.
Daria, Daria, Daria,
Daria, Daria, Daria,
Daria, I won't be soothed.
I won't be soothed.

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20. "The Very Best Of ... " by Sheryl Crow (2003)

I can hear all of your collective disdain -- "I can't believe he likes Sheryl Crow." Bite me, ok? Sheryl is awesome: she's a great singer, she has a great public persona, and her music, well ... you have to admire her for her consistency.

She continually cranks out listenable, foot-tapping, driving-down-the-road, sing-along music with just enough lyrical depth to keep it interesting. Listening through this "best of" collection I have to say that there is really only one song here that I don't like. There are several that I really love, "Everyday is a Winding Road," "Steve McQueen", and the cover of the Cat Stevens song, "The First Cut is the Deepest." I don't even mind her song with stupid Kid Rock, "Picture".

I heard her in an interview once say that her goal is longevity and that she patterned herself after Tom Petty, that she just wants to be able to make a lifelong career out of recording these kinds of songs. And when you think about it, Tom Petty, I don't think, has never written more than about two lines per song of a decent lyric, and I don't think he's ever written a "whole" song. But there he is about every three or four years with another song on the radio. Now Sheryl's verses look like Longfellow next to Petty's -- at least she can complete the thought: "Like Steve McQueen, all I need's a fast machine".

So I can say this with confidence, from the rooftops and on my public blog -- I don't want to marry her, but:
I LOVE SHERYL CROW !!!

Plus there's something about these warm winter days -- it was 60 and sunny today in Texas -- that is conducive to rolling down the windows and singing at the top of your lungs to songs you know and love.

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19. "Warpaint" by The Black Crowes (2008)

The waiting is over so let's roll int he clover
Time for a head full of stars
Let's pull back the curtain, only one thing's for certain
Well we don't have very long

Don't look back my wounded bird
there's nothing for you here
Need no wings just set your mind to fly

(from "Wounded Bird")

I love the Black Crowes and I've seen them five times. I especially love "Southern Harmony and Musical Companion", but that was released in 1992, 18 years ago. Look, these guys are getting old.

But so am I.

I'm not the kind of guy that likes to live in the past. I like to remember the good old days as much as the next guy, but I like to think I'm moving forward. Yes, I know all the songs on "70s on 7" on Sirius, but I need something new.

I like this album because it's not the Crowes trying to recreate some kind of glory days -- it's them right now making music that matters to them right now. So, yeah, it takes on a little balding salt-and pepper haired aspect when Chris Robinson sings (in "Goodbye Daughters of the Revolution"):

"To give up now would be such a pity,
Don't you wanna see the ship go down with me?"

Lost love, lost opportunities, in the end all we can hope for it to have enough energy and gumption to keep trying, to do it one more time (from "Oh Josephine"):

Waited for redemption
No leaving love behind
You've got to know where you wanna be
It gets cold outside
It's too late to play it safe
So let's let it all ride
Yeah, let's let it all ride
Let it all ride!

You've got to like the instrumental jam on the end of that song that just says, "OK boys, let's finish strong," but not in an exhausting, frenetic way; in a measured, meaningful way.

You may be a big Crowes fan but you might not appreciate this album if you're under 40. That's ok, the Crowes love you. I do too.

Sometimes a road is rocky and hard
Full of dangers unrelenting
Just take great care to follow your stars
Let the good times come a plenty

Whoa mule, whoa mule, we're dirty but were dreaming
Whoa mule, whoa mule, we'll both get there someday

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18. "In Your Honor" (Disk 1) by Foo Fighters (2005)

Sorry I'm dividing this double album up into two sections -- the first disk just rocks so much that when I start listening to it I don't want to go on to Disk 2 (the mellow Foo). It has some great tracks, "Best of You", "DOA", "Resolve" and "End Over End". I am sitting here trying to justify why I like the Foos, and I guess my only answer to that is, "I like guys with guitars."

Really, though, where would we be without the Foo Fighters? We would be overrun with foo, that's where we'd be. Foo is dangerous and will take over if we don't keep it in check. We should be thankful that we have the Fighters of Foo for protecting us from evil Foo.

Thank you, Foo Fighters, thank you for all the work you do. And for delivering the rocking.

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17. "Natural Forces" by Lyle Lovett (2009)

This little album by Lyle is alright. Some reviews say it's his best since "Road to Ensenada". I like Lyle, but sometimes he's a little to laid-back for me and so it's hard for me to actively listen to him sometimes -- as opposed to passive listening, where it is playing in the background. Now I don't want to reduce him to some kind of "elevator" music, but he does have a certain soothing quality.

At the same time if you listen actively to this album you get a lot of "homing" type of imagery: traveling, rambling and going home. There are several covers along those lines on "Natural Forces", like "Whooping Crane", "Bayou Song" and "Bohemia". The title cut is Lyle's, as well as "Pantry", which actually appears twice, once in a country version and once in a bluegrass version. I think the latter is the best because it fits the cute lyric that implores his wife to be true while he is away by making her love analogous to home-cooking:

Don't cheat on me with cornbread
Don't cheat on me with beans
Don't cheat on me with bacon
Cooked up in collard greens

And don't cheat on me with biscuits
With jelly sweet and blue
Keep it in that place
Where you know you will be true

Keep it in your pantry

Ha. Anyway, the title song, "Natural Forces", actually has a very nice thought to it. He talks about ramblin' and moving as being movtivated by some natural desire (ironically similar to some Zeppelin songs, LOL), and compares it to some of the wars and migrations of history, then centers it at the end with this thought:

And now as i sit here safe at home
With a cold Coors Light and the TV on
All the sacrifice and the death and war
Lord I pray that i'm worth fighting for
...
I'm subject to the natural forces
Home is where my horse is

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15. & 16. "Remasters" by Led Zeppelin (1990)

I missed yesterday and there are two disks in this album so today you get a
>>> DOUBLE-SHOT of the ZEP <<<<

I grew up in the 70s but I came to Led Zeppelin very late. When I was young I was a church boy and, except for a few radio hits, I always associated them with druggies and Satan worshippers. Really, I'm not kidding. Now I realize their genius and appreciate their ground-breaking style, but I'm not going to wax poetic about the good old days and how they were the greatest, nobody can play like Page, blah blah blah.

What I am going to tell you about is what I remember about some friends and acquaintances who were Zeppelin fans. Like Timmy M., a friend of mine in high school who insisted that all his friends call him "Zofo", for the inscription on their 4th album (the one with "Stairway" on it). Of course, we didn't know for sure if it was "ZOFO" or "ZOSO", but Tim already had the nickname, so we just called him "Zo".

Then there was this kid I met at basketball camp when I was about 15. He was older, more worldly and had gone to school in Europe. He tried to convince me that the Led Zeppelin song playing on his tape player was his band.

My friend Don and I used to ride around in his dad's Chrysler (sometimes Melissa and Linda would go with us). The car only had an 8-track player and some how or another the only decent album we had to listen to (in 1980) was "In Through the Out Door" (which many consider their weakest). Don loved to point out the little place in the keyboard solo in "All My Love" where he accidentally hits two keys at once. He also loved to demonstrate the concept of what people do when they "go shufflin' downtown" (from "Fool in the Rain").

Finally there's my friend Marty, who was a manager at IBM when I first started working there in 1988. He wasn't my manager, so we got to be friends. I remember talking to him in his office one day and he told me that his favorite band was Led Zeppelin, and he had one of their concert posters on his office wall. I couldn't believe it because I thought he was such a straight-laced guy. He was. He also liked Zeppelin. He died a couple of years later of some weird heart condition at about age 36. I think of him sometimes when I listen to Led Zeppelin.

So am I a big Zeppelin fan? I like them as much as the next guy. Do I like to listen to them? Yeah, I do.

"To be a rock and not to roll."

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14. "No Control" by Bad Religion (1989)

AAAAAAARRRRRRGH !!!!

Dammit.

I told my daughter Emily that I would give these guys a listen. I'm not really a punk fan but she thought I would like it. I like it ok -- I think if I listen to it a little more it will grow on me. Now that these guys are on my radar screen I am anxious to give a listen to the album that came after this, "Against the Grain." But that's not why I'm aggravated. The thrashy guitars with the intellectual lyrics just kind of fits in with my frustration.

There's no vestige of a beginning, no prospect of an end
When we all disintegrate it will all happen again, yeah.
If you came to conquer, you'll be king for a day,
But you too will deteriorate and quickly fade away.
And believe these words you hear when you think your path is clear...
We have no control. We have no control.
We have no control, we do not understand.

OK, so I get the junk emails all the time, which I mostly delete. But the ones that get me going are the ones that talk about President Obama's citizenship (that he wasn't born in America) or his religion (that he's a Muslim). From a political standpoint I'm kind of on the fence about him -- he hasn't convinced me yet that he's little more than a bunch of empty promises -- but that's beside the point. The point is that defaming somebody and spreading falsehoods doesn't help your case and doesn't do anything to make things right. If Obama is a bad president, then let's hear a critique of his policies: making up stuff doesn't convince people, it just makes the maker-upper look stupid and ignorant.

What does this have to do with Bad Religion and punk rock? Because it's all about DIALOGUE, man. I've been writing about music for two whole weeks now (wow, I know) and the one thing I've learned is that everybody has something to say. Some say it better than others (i.e. "Books are Burning" by XTC). Some use a different medium and style to emphasize their point, like these guys, who raise a lot of good questions on this little disk, which, incidentally, is only about 25 minutes long even though it contains 15 songs -- most of them are less than 2 minutes each. Short, punctuated, and to the point. I haven't quite digested their message yet, but let me say it was refreshing to hear a different, thoughtful point of view. You may not like the message or the delivery, but you have to respect their part of the dialogue -- they have something to add.

People who try to get you to accept a truth at face value are probably lying to you. They want to limit the dialogue only to their point of view, only to their truth.

That's the way I feel about junk emails.

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13. "Bring the Family" by John Hiatt (1987)

This is one of the most honest albums you'll ever listen to. You just get the feeling that everything here is "real".

Come here, darlin', from a whisper start
To have a little faith in me.

I know writers, songwriters, poets, playwrights, screenwriters, whatever ... they all speak from their heart, speak from where they are. But Hiatt just has this voice, this way that he says it, that just comes across as real and sincere.

There was a life that I was living
In some cracked rearview
Where no future was given
To a heart untrue

Still I thought that I was so strong
That my will could force me through
I didn't know it would be so long
Learning how to love you

When I listen to this album, I can't help but think about the story behind it. At the risk of repeating stuff you can read elsewhere on the net: in 1987 Hiatt has had some moderate success but is down and out, a recovering alcoholic, and has burned so many bridges that no one wants to work with him. He calls in a favor with his friends Nick Lowe (bass), Jim Keltner (drums) and Ry Cooder (guitar and slide) and they record "Bring the Family" in four days because that's all they had the money for. For this reason two of the songs are Hiatt playing solo ("Have a Little Faith" and "Learning How to Love You"). The result has been heralded as a masterpiece, not only because the songwriting is exceptional, but because of his stellar backing band. Just listen to Keltner's work on "Memphis in the Meantime" (Is that a bicycle bell?).

The reason I repeat all that is because it is what I hear every time I spin "Bring the Family". When Hiatt sings in "Lipstick Sunset", "And lord I couldn't tell her / that her love was only killing me" you just have to feel for him. And Cooder's breathtaking slide work on this song makes it real. "Have a Little Faith in Me" is that outpouring that every guy has made after a change of heart, but with the underlying desperate hope that it's more than just a sell job, not only to her but to himself. Maybe it IS a song to himself.

But the real gem here is "A Thing Called Love", because it creates a gritty, down-and-out feeling (lost in the Bonnie Raitt version) of someone who has screwed up every other aspect of his life but still discovers that he can still be blessed and rescued by love:

Ugly ducklings don't turn into swans,
And glide off down the lake,
Whether your sunglasses are off or on,
You only see the world you make

Not to lay too much music theory on you here, but the riff, F# A# C# E, is genius. There's the major chord F# A# C#, with the 7th, the E, just kind of leaving you hanging at the end. It's a 7th chord but it doesn't act as such (in wanting to move to another chord) -- the 7th just punctuates the major triad in way that kind of "messes it up" and makes it imperfect, but valid nonetheless; it's not dissonant, but it turns a major chord (F# A# C#) into something with a minor top (A# C# E). It's not major, and it's not minor, and it's not invalid -- it just kind of leaves you baffled, like, what the hell are you trying to tell me?

Now I didn't have no plans to live this kind of life,
It just worked out that way

And are you ready for this thing called love?
Don't come from you and me, comes from up above
I ain't no porcupine, take off your kid gloves,
Are you ready for this thing called love?

Doubt? Uncertainty? Maybe a little subversion? Yet, we're still here, so along with that you also get hopefulness and maybe a little optimism.

A really, really brilliant statement. Thanks for sharing, John.

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p.s. We met John Hiatt a couple of years ago on a cruise. I've always admired him so like an idiot I couldn't think of anything to say. He was nice enough to take a picture with us anyway:

12. "Them Crooked Vultures" (2009)

I got this cd for Christmas, and was pretty excited about it when I unwrapped it, the band a "supergroup" being composed of bassist John Paul Jones (of Led Zeppelin), drummer Dave Grohl (of Nirvana and front man for The Foo Fighters) and guitarist Josh Homme (Queens of the Stone Age).

John Paul Jones? Really? I hadn't seen that guy on credits in a while. Wonder how come he's not been involved in any of the Page/Plant projects? He's looking pretty good though .... (See their web site.)

Anyway I've listened to it three times now and if I had to describe this album in one word it would be "throwback". First of all, it's got a real raw, garage sound too it. Some songs sound like "Cream" and others are kind of psychedelic. I have to say I didn't like it so much at first but it's beginning to grow on me. There's not to much lyrically that's too heavy -- it's mostly just hard luck love a la rock-n-roll.

Favorite track so far: "Dead End Friends".

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11. "August and Everything After" by Counting Crows (1993)

Maybe I'm just getting old, but is seems like love in the 21st century is a lot more cynical than the idyllic 90s. Back then, when we wanted to call someone we had to use a pay phone ("Raining in Baltimore") and we had time to deal with "the status of (our) emotions" ("Anna Begins"). "Love is a ghost train" is such anachronistic imagery in 2010: nobody rides trains anymore, except for commuters in big cities, and gone is that perception of it being able to be "lost" in some kind of metaphysical fog, because the reality of modern life is that everybody is connected with Twitter and Facebook and there is no such thing as "disappearing" or "going off the radar" anymore.

Too bad, because the wonderful thing about escaping is not only the solitude where one can regroup and think about things, but also the comfort of getting "found" again:

And I get no answer
And I don't get no change
It's raining in Baltimore, baby,
But everything else is the same

There's things I remember and things I forget
I miss you I guess that I should
Three thousand five hundred miles away
But what would you change if you could?

(From "Raining in Baltimore")

Adam Duritz (lyricist/singer for CC) has crafted an entire album of anonymous "sameness". Sameness in thought and persona:

Gray is my favorite color
I felt so symbolic yesterday
If I knew Picasso
I would buy myself a gray guitar and play

(From "Mr. Jones".)

Sameness in location:

Omaha, somewhere in middle America
Getting right to the heart of matters
It's the heart that matters more

(From "Omaha".)

White light blindedness = too much information = sameness in situation:

Step out of the front door like a ghost into a fog
Where no one notices the contrast in white on white
And in between the moon and you
Angels get a better view
Of the crumbling difference between wrong and right

(From 'Round Here".)

Oblivious slumber is all I crave:

Asleep in perfect blue buildings
Beside the green apple sea
Gonna get me a little oblivion, baby
Try to keep myself away from myself and me

(From "Perfect Blue Buildings".)

I looked up at the calendar yesterday and realized that 1990 was twenty years ago. This album has held up surprisingly well. When it came out I remember a friend telling me that his impression of the album was that they were the "kings of jangle", and if you think about it, this came out right in the middle of the grunge surge, so it was groundbreaking for its time. Even then, it lyrically called for more reflection and introspection. It seems so out of place in today's technological millieu where, if you can imagine it, anything and everything can be produced. Some of my favorite bands are this way (re: Wilco, Radiohead). But from 1993, here come the jangling Crows, pulling us back to the heart of matters: it's the heart that matters more, and at the end, reminding us in the gentlest of ways, that true change doesn't come from being pushed and prodded by technology, but only after genuine soul-searching, introspection, maybe some gentle urging, and a LOT of talking.

I dreamt I saw you walking up a hillside in the snow
Casting shadows on the winter sky as you stood there
counting crows
One for sorrow Two for joy
Three for girls and four for boys
Five for silver Six for gold and
Seven for a secret never to be told
There's a bird that nests inside you
Sleeping underneath your skin
When you open up your wings to speak
I wish you'd let me in
All your life is such a shame
All your love is just a dream
Open up your eyes
You can see the flames of your wasted life
You should be ashamed
You don't want to waste your life
I walk along these hillsides In the summer 'neath the sunshine
I am feathered by the moonlight falling down on me
Change, change, change

(From "A Murder of One".)

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10. "Wilco (the album)" by Wilco (2009)

I gotta stop reading about depressing stuff. Yesterday’s blog entry had some deep thought, and now I’m seeing everything on the bleak side.

One of my favorite albums of 2009 is Wilco’s “Wilco (the album)”, mostly because I think Jeff Tweedy is a genius and I pretty much buy anything they put out. And without exception, I never like a Wilco album when I first buy it and it takes a while to grow on me. I bought this album last summer. Today when I listened to it again it made a little more sense me to me than just a collection of cool songs.

Today I realized that every song on this album deals with finality, resignation, and accepting life as it is. Some songs are happy and upbeat, and some songs are slow and thoughtful; some are acoustic, and some are instrumentally heavy: all follow the same thread. Shall we begin with narcissistic self-reflection?

1. Wilco (The Song)
There’re so many wars that just can’t be won
Even before the battle’s begun
This is an aural arms open wide
A sonic shoulder for you to cry on
Wilco
Wilco will love you baby

Let's continue with the story of a deep-thinking pugilist:

2. Deeper Down
Underneath the ocean floor
A part of who we are we don’t explore
I adore
The meaninglessness of the this
We can’t express

In perhaps the most overt metaphor I've ever heard from Tweedy (he's usually a lot more subtle), a busted relationship is compared to two separated wings of a bird:

3. One Wing
One wing will never ever fly
Neither yours nor mine
One wing will never ever fly, dear
Neither yours nor mine, I fear
We can only wave goodbye

Sometimes things suck because we screwed them up so much that they're almost impossible to fix:

4. Bull Black Nova
If I’m the one with blood on my sofa
Blood in the sink, blood in the trunk
High at the wheel of a bull black Nova
Then I’m sorry as the setting sun
This can’t be undone
Can’t be outrun

The worst part of this situation is that he's trying to outrun his problems in a piece of shit Chevy Nova. Bummer, dude. This drives us right into a tender love ballad with an unsatisfying center:

5. You and I
Oh, I don’t want to know
Oh, I don’t want to know
Oh, I don’t need to know
Everything about you
Oh, I don’t want to know
And you don’t need to know
That much about me

Don't be so depressed. You're not the first to feel this way. Every generation thinks it's the last, thinks it's the end of the world:

6. You Never Know
It’s a dream down a well
It’s a long, heavy hell
I don’t care anymore, I don’t care anymore
It’s a fear to transcend, if we’re here at the end
I don’t care anymore, I don’t care anymore
You never know

Oh wait. It IS that bad. To add insult to injury, our misfortune is just fodder for TV news:

7. Country Disappeared
Hold out your hand
There’s so much we don’t understand
So stick as close as you can
To all of your best laid plans
You’ve got the white clouds hanging so high above you
You’ve got the helicopters dangling, angling to shoot
The shots to feed the hungry weekend news crew anchormen
So every evening we can watch from above
Crush the cities like a bug
Fold ourselves into each other’s guts
Turn our faces up to the sun

Don't beat yourself up so much, though; it's not all your fault:

8. Solitaire
Once I thought without a doubt
I had it all figured out
Universe with hands unseen
I was cold as gasoline
Took too long to see
I was wrong to believe in me only

Your life is dust and that's all there is to it, even if you try really hard:

9. I'll Fight
I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go
I’ll go for you
I’ll fight, I’ll fight, I’ll fight
I’ll fight for you
I’ll die, I’ll die, I’ll die
I’ll die for you
I will, I will, I will

And if I die, I’ll die, I’ll die alone
On some forgotten hill
Abandoned by the mill
All my blood will spring and spill
I’ll thrash the air, then be still

You’ll wake with a start from a dream
And know that I am gone
You’ll feel it in your heart but not for very long

You might as well make the most of it, be thankful for what you have, and sing a happy tune, like the next one, which is the most musically upbeat song on the album, even if it has a tragic ending:

10. Sonny Feeling
You know it’s true
The other shoe
It waits for you
What can you do?
Remember to show gratitude
The darkest night is nothing new
...
A sunny feeling is taken away

And now we come to the final conclusion of every great rock-n-roll song cycle: "In the end the love you take is equal to the love you make.":

11. Everlasting Everything
Oh I know this might sound sad
But everything goes, both the good and the bad
So it all adds up, and you should be glad
Everlasting love is all you had

Everlasting everything
Nothing could mean anything at all

I won't be so cynical tomorrow, I promise.

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