This is a blog about my passions, including (but not limited to) music, writing, Vegas, poker, my homeland Indiana (mostly sports), and any little thing that strikes my fancy. I publish new posts at 11:20 (Central) on Tuesdays and Thursdays with an occasional Saturday post. I do, however, reserve the right to add a big story as it happens.
I have always wanted there to be a harpsichord renaissance in music. The sound is unmistakable, and it adds a degree of class to any song. For example, Tori Amos’s CD Boys for Pele features Tori banging away on a harpsichord during several songs.
The harpsichord was invented sometime in the Medieval era. The first reference to the instrument was in 1397 in a written account by a man in northern Italy. It was light weight and carried a powerful sound. However, with all good things, the time of the harpsichord came to an end in the 18th century. The newly created piano pushed the harpsichord from its rightful place as the keyboard of choice. The harpsichord had a bit of a revival in the 20th century in England during the Baroque Pop era.
After the ‘70s, the sound of the harpsichord seemed to disappear from the rock scene. If a band would use it, it was just background noise, but never the feature.
In 1981, The Stranglers were trying to redefine their sound during the decline in British punk. Their 1981 album, La Folie,attempted to relate to various forms of love. The first release for the band gave them the commercial and critical resurrection that they, and record label EMI, were looking for.
“Golden Brown” features a harpsichord along with an organ at the beginning. The song, which is a waltz with 3/4 meter for most of the song, delivers a timeless melody.
The meaning of the lyrics has ranged from heroin use to a song about toast. One of the more logical theories is that the song was about lead singer (and composer of the song) Hugh Cornwell’s girlfriend, who was from the Mediterranean and had golden brown skin. That would fit in with the concept of the album (which translated means “The Madness”).
Golden brown texture like sun Lays me down with my mind she runs Throughout the night No need to fight Never a frown with golden brown
This song was introduced to a new generation (and most of America) with its inclusion to the 1999 film Snatch.
Truthfully, the meaning behind this song is secondary to me. It gives me my musical-geek-like fix by mixing 16th century instrumentation with 20th century rock n’ roll. Here’s to hoping more songs like “Golden Brown” are written.
It’s not very often you have musicians cover each other. When it happens, it’s a special kind of mutual admiration. The first exchange I always think of is from two of my favorite artists. Each takes the other’s song and puts his own stamp on it.
Tom Waits recorded “I Don’t Wanna Grow Up” for his Grammy Award winning album Bone Machine. It’s a simplistic song, only featuring two guitars (one electric, one acoustic) and a bass. At the beginning of the song, we get the feeling that the song is told from the perspective of a young child, who understands what the pains of being an adult are all about.
When I see the price that you pay I don't wanna grow up I don't ever wanna be that way I don't wanna grow up
Seems like folks turn into things That they'd never want The only thing to live for Is today...
However, by the time we get to the end of the song, we find out the narrator has grown up too fast for his liking.
Three years later, the Ramones recorded their final album, Adios Amigos. Their version of “I Don’t Wanna Grow Up” was the opening track. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear that this was a Ramones original song. The guitars were rearranged to make the song more Ramones-esque and the lyrics sounded like something that Joey would have written.
Waits would later return the nod on his 2006 three-disc releases, Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers & Bastards when he covered “Danny Says”, which was Joey Ramone’s favorite song that he recorded.
Joey had written the love song for his then girlfriend, Linda Danielle. The song tells the tale of having to do just one more show for a tour, one in Idaho, right before the band leaves LA. The band’s road manager, Danny (who is based off of their real manager, Danny Fields) tells him that they have to do an appearance at a record store and a radio interview before their 5:02 sound checks. Joey is looking forward to the end of the tour, and it is clear that he would rather be surfing and being hanging out with his girlfriend.
Hangin’ out in 100B
Watchin’ “Get Smart” on TV
Thinkin’ about you and me and you and me
Then she dumped him and married bandmate Johnny Ramone. That’s cold.
When Waits got a hold of it, he slowed the song down. Instead of the song feeling like an upbeat “can’t wait to be with you tomorrow,” tune, it’s a sad song, almost filled with doubt. I wonder if Waits considered the real life ending when he recorded it, or if was a memorial to both Joey and Johnny.
Last year, my brother-in-law was in town for a couple of weeks. He’s only 18 and is still in his fast food phase, so he wanted me to pick up some Burger King for him. While I was standing in line, some creepy guy who hadn’t shaved in about a week and smelled of feet got four inches from my face.
“Did you hear? Michael Jackson died.”
“Um…OK?” What do you do when someone gives you unsolicited news? “Thanks?”
This news didn’t shake me at all. First of all, I didn’t find the source to be all that credible. Plus, I hadn’t really given Michael Jackson much thought in the last several years. “The King of Pop” had been reduced to a punchline because of the allegations of pedophilia (because nothing is more HI-larious than sexually abusing kids) and his “changing colors” (again, saying that African-Americans really want to be white…so funny; especially in neighborhoods that are still segregated). He had been in societal exile for a few years, and persona non grata on the radio. People had distanced themselves from Jackson and his music, because he was “a weirdo”. He was tried and convicted in the court of public opinion with some very shaky evidence.
Growing up, I was not a huge Michael Jackson fan. I loved Thriller when it came out and thought it was one of the best albums of the early ‘80s. However, that’s where I stop. Everything after 1983, in my mind, was forgettable. “Bad” sounded more like a track that was understandably cut from Thriller rather than a brand new song.
I’ve always thought his best song was “Rock With You” from Off The Wall. I’ve always felt that Quincy Jones took way too much credit for Michael becoming a star. He had forgotten that Michael had already proven his musical chops before Jackson hit puberty.
Watching the people who ripped into Jackson (literally the day before his death) mourn his passing and proclaiming him to be a musical genius had to have anger the people who truly stood behind Michael. It took him dying before people started to appreciate him again. It’s kinda sad to think if he had felt that support in the previous 15 years, things might have been different.
I know that there are people who never let the accusations of wrong doing or his death change their opinion of his music. I respect these people immensely, even though I may not share their views. Music is music. People’s obsession with the private lives of celebrities tainted the legacy of a talented musician.
Until a couple of months ago, I would have never thought of a cello as a heavy metal instrument.
Then my friend Krista posted this video on her Facebook page.
Since then, “Romance” has become the latest Andy Dufresne song in my collection, and it comes from the most unlikely place. Apocalyptica is made up of four classically trained cellists from Finland. The band originally started as a Metallica tribute band…on cello.
I have always said that metal is the closet descendant of classical music and opera. This band proves it.
I’m currently absorbing this song, and the album from which it came, “Cult”. I’ll let you know more about it when I come down.
As with many Andy Dufresne songs, I just don’t have the words, so I won’t try.
When D and I were getting ready for the wedding last summer, we had a clear division of responsibility. I took care of the music, photography, tuxes and rings. She did the rest. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I got off light. While D was wrestling with the cake lady, the hall, invitations and people who sent specific seating demands, I listened to music.
Doesn’t seem fair, does it?
I was also responsible for the creation of the slide shows. Normally, the song that accompanies grainy baby pictures is some kind of sappy song, such as any random Dashboard Confessional tune. I know that weddings are emotional events, but this is a pictorial of somebody’s life. Does the groom really want "Vindicated" to his theme song?
I, however, went in a different direction. I decided that I wanted a song that not only was upbeat, but was a little more self-descriptive. I chose “(What’s so Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding” by Elvis Costello and the Attractions.
It’s not what I would call a wedding song; it’s not even close. It has a very pessimistic point of view. Why in the name of all that’s good and holy would I want to use that song…to describe my life?
I’m sorry, have we not met?
Not to sound too corny or sappy, but that song pretty much summed up my attitude in the pre-D era. Sure, life kicks everyone every now and then, but I was pretty sick of it. It wasn’t just me, either. I watched my friends, some of the best people on the planet, get treated the same way a baby treats a diaper.
As I walk through
This wicked world
Searchin for light in the darkness of insanity.
I ask myself
Is all hope lost?
Is there only pain and hatred, and misery?
Since the photos (most of them) came from this era, the song made sense. This is who I was at that point. It took meeting someone on the stairs of my apartment to make the change, and make me believe again.
For many years, I just called it the “museum song”. That’s really how I knew it. In the one John Hughes film that didn’t make me want to throw things (a topic for a future discussion…maybe in August), there was this acoustic guitar and saxophone song that played as Ferris, Cameron and Sloane took their day off to the Art Institute in Chicago. It’s one of those film moments that will live in my memory forever.
Years had passed until I watched the film again; borrowing it from my then roommate. Seeing it again for the first time in over fifteen years, I was stunned when I realized it was a cover of “Please, Please, Please Let me Get What I Want.” When I mentioned it to her (which, by the way, she is a self professed Smiths fan), she argued with me that it wasn’t. Even after playing the scene for her and the song back to back, she still didn’t believe me. (Side note: She has since denied that this happened. However, D was a witness to this and can verify the story).
The Dream Academy cover was released exclusively in the UK. This is a little treat that Hughes gave us for the movie (as well as The English Beat’s “March of the Swivelheads”). It’s a song that I listened to many times before my own trip to the Art Institute last winter. The song ran through my head as I stood in front of Seurat’s “Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte".
Since then, another cover of this song has surfaced, and was a part of another movie. The latest version, recorded by She and Him, features a female vocalist.
However, as the days get nicer, I look out my window at work and think about having my own day off. Maybe I could con D’s boss so I can get her out of work and we could go to the Minnesota Institute of Art.
Mark Knopfler wrote “Romeo and Juliet”, Dire Straits’ first release of the ‘80s, after his breakup with Holly Vincent, lead singer of Holly and the Italians. The song’s narrator, “Romeo”, goes to visit his Juliet and calls out her name from a street light. Juliet responds by telling him that her boyfriend is there and not to come by unannounced. Romeo laments that he is still in love with Juliet and, in spite of how he has been treated, he’d still “Do the stars” with her anytime.
Romeo claims that he and his star crossed lover couldn’t get it together because “the timing was wrong,” although Juliet’s cold remarks about her Romeo tend to suggest otherwise. She tends to regard him as a small footnote in the book of her love life with the line “Romeo, yeah I used to have a scene with him.” (This is a reference to an interview Vincent gave, stating that she had a scene with Knopfler, and he couldn’t handle it.) The song has been covered by The Indigo Girls and The Killers since.
I honestly had no intention of writing about this song on this blog, as I have plans for it down the road. However, I did a 180 when I heard Matt Nathanson’s cover version of it on Pandora last week. I also realized what time of year it was. As much as I wanted to save this song for a long form essay to be featured in the future Anthology book, I feel that the time is right to post this now.
In an earlier post (“Good Luck, Goodbye”) I wrote about my short time with “The First Bobby Jean”. I had also made mention that she was one of only two women to make a mix CD for me. The live version of “Romeo and Juliet” from On The Night was one of the first tracks on the second side. She said that she put it on the tape because it was one of her favorites. The song, however, was a thinly veiled hint that our time together was not going to be a long lasting one. She said goodbye, and left Bloomington 13 years ago this week. I always find myself listening to this song a lot in the first part of May.
Was it that the timing was wrong? At first, I believed that it was. However, over time I’ve come to realize that the timing was right. Had we met at any other time with different circumstances, things may have turned ugly; making it difficult for us to remain friends over the years. We got the most out of that time, and frankly I wouldn’t change a thing. I still think very fondly of her, and I am happy that she has found the right man for her, as I have found the perfect woman for me.
I’m not much for prime time television, but there is one show that stands out to me--NBC’s “Chuck”. This isn't a save “Chuck” post, and I won’t bother writing one. Clearly, NBC couldn’t care less about my taste in TV shows (a possible subject for a future post). Besides, I don’t catch the show enough to be completely invested in it. However, I like the story line of a dork turned cool, hard ass actor Adam Baldwin (from “Firefly” fame) and the smokin’ hot blonde (which is saying a lot, since I’ve always preferred brunettes and redheads). But this is not why I really enjoy the show.
The most compelling part of "Chuck" for me is the music selection. In the past, I’ve been blown away that a prime time network show would feature music by bands such as Glasvegas and Bon Iver. No other show (with the possible exception of "Scrubs") had a better grasp of music and its involvement in the story.
A few months ago, I was watching Chuck with D. At the end of the show, as Sarah and Chuck were seemingly separated forever (again), this haunting tune sung with a Scottish accent played.
“Do you know who this is?” D said excitedly.
I hadn’t heard the song before. “No.”
“It’s Frightened Rabbit.”
I’m not ashamed to admit it, this was a huge turn on (by the way, D’s also a brunette). It was just more evidence that I married the right woman. Slowly but surely, I’ve been turning her into an audiophile. The student had become the master.
After absorbing the song on the show, I bought the CD, The Winter of Mixed Drinks. I’ve been obsessing over this band ever since. Although “Swim Until You Can’t See Land” may not be my favorite of their songs (the clear leader is “Keep Yourself Warm”…also featured on “Chuck”), but it is the one that has stuck with me the most.
The song is inspired by a Ben Kingsley film called The Wackness. Kingsley attempts suicide by swimming in the ocean so far, that he would eventually drown. He changes his mind and swims back to shore.
The song is about recovering from a horrible time. According to lead singer Scott Hutchinson, “It's about losing your mind in order to reset the mind and the body. Forget what's gone before and wash it out.”
The sea has seen my like before though it's my first
And perhaps last time.
Let's call me a baptist, call this the drowning of the past
She's there on the shoreline
Throwing stones at my back
Outside of getting married last September, the past 18 months or so have been a struggle. My wife and I have endured a layoff, health issues, family drama and a precarious personal financial future. As it says in the song, “now the water's taller than me, and the land is a marker line.” It’s easy to feel overwhelmed with the stresses that have come to pass.
The best line of the song is the hook of the song, “are you a man, or a bag of sand.” It’s sink or swim. Do you have the strength to make it to the next day, or are you too tired to fight the tide?
Am I a man or a bag of sand? Sometimes, I wished to God I knew.
It's not like Mick Jagger to invite controversy. No not at all!
No other Rolling Stone song has attracted more vitriol than "Brown Sugar". Even before it was released, the song was already at the center of controversy. The release was delayed for over a year due to a legal battle over the rights of the song. While the lawyers were hashing it out, the Stones debuted the song at Altamont.
Not what I would call an auspicious start.
Since then, people have pored over the lyrics like it was The DaVinci Code. Claims have been made that the song is about slavery, rape, heroine and interracial sex…all dressed up as a party song.
Heavens to Betsy. What a dreadful idea. Not from the Stones.
Many learned Stones scholars would point out the song was really about Mick Jagger's affair with Claudia Lennear. She was one of the back-up singers for Ike Turner when his band toured with the Stones. Although Lennear has never confirmed that the song was about her, she's never denied it either. She raised no objection to her 1974 Playboy pictorial being titled "Brown Sugar". Assuming that this theory is correct, this would be the first of two songs inspired by the former Ikette. David Bowie's Shirley Bassey-esque song "Lady Grinning Soul" from Aladdin Sane is supposedly about his meeting with Lennear in 1972 (which was ironically a B-Side for Bowie's cover of "Let's Spend The Night Together").
However, singer, model, actress Marsha Hunt has claimed on several occasions that the song is about her. Hunt is the mother of Jagger's first daughter, Karis.
The song was never intended to glorify raping slaves (as the first verse would indicate). If the song was really inspired by either of the above mentioned women, it's more likely a contrast of interracial relationships from the colonial days to the late 60s.
It's checkered past hasn't prevented companies like Pepsi and Kahlua from using it to sell their products.
Do you think that Tom Hanks leaves Joe Versus the Volcano off of his resume? After winning two Academy Awards in a row (only one of two people to pull that off), does it piss him off when USA Network shows that God-awful film, and bills it as "Oscar winner Tom Hanks in Joe Versus The Volcano"? Conversely, I'm sure that Meg Ryan talks it up. She'll shout it to anyone within earshot. "I was in three movies with Tom Hanks, and he never returns my calls. I used to be cute, you know!"
Every artist has that at least one embarrassing piece that makes them cringe. It's the same embarrassment you feel when your mom shows your significant other your naked baby pictures. It happens a lot in music. Sometimes an established artist will try something new that just doesn't work, or they really need the money. Sometimes they were just doing someone a favor (Michael Jackson singing back up on "Somebody's Watching Me" comes to mind). Here are a few albums by otherwise respectable artists that confused the hell out of their listening audience, and may have prompted some to demand their money back.
Hot Space – Queen (1982)
Although one of the band's most loved song is on this album, Queen's 9th album leads off this list. It's a shame that "Under Pressure" closes the CD, when it's too late for the band's David Bowie duet to save the album. Coming in at the tail end of the Disco Era, the album attempts to meld Queen's signature sound with a tired dance beat and bass line, as well as a liberal use of (the word) "funk-tion". The only positive thing about this album (besides "Under Pressure") is that the band learned its lesson and produced a more successful album, The Game, a year later.
Emotional Rescue – The Rolling Stones (1980)
On the late, lamented TV show Freaks and Geeks, a roller disco DJ (played by Joel Hodgson of Mystery Science Theater 3000 fame) trumpets "Rock and roll sucks!" and notes that even the Rolling Stones have "gone disco". Of course he was talking about Some Girls, the beginning of Stones' long downward spiral. This album made it apparent that Mick and Bianca had attended one too many cocaine-fueled orgies at Studio 54, and the credibility of a once-great rock band had been compromised. The Stones never fully recovered from their two disco albums, and their next release, Tattoo You, was a case of "too little, too late."
Kilroy Was Here – Styx (1983)
I've tried to look at this work from the perspective of Styx. Yes, the music landscape was changing. Bands like Journey, REO Speedwagon, and Styx needed to change their sound to survive the decline of classic rock. While the others found their niche, Dennis DeYoung's vision of the band's future was inspired by The Who's Tommy, and the rock opera Kilroy Was Here was born. Although the album is mostly known for its Top 40-friendly songs "Mr. Roboto" and "Don't Let it End", the concept behind Kilroy's story and lyrics is laughable. In the "story" Kilroy (DeYoung) is an aging rocker when a fascist dictatorship outlaws rock and roll. Kilroy is imprisoned by Dr. Righteous (David Young), and escapes his shackles by hollowing out a Roboto (yes, there's a story behind that stupid song). Kilroy then seeks to track down Jonathan Chance (Tommy Shaw), a young rebel who is trying to bring back rock. The heroes fight an outdated foe (Communists were the villains of choice in 1983, not fascists), armed with the most ridiculous names this side of James Cameron. The result is an unbearable cheese-fest of an album, loaded with songs like "Heavy Metal Poisoning". Unsurprisingly, nobody wanted to see the live show of Kilroy, and the disastrous concept album drove the band members apart. It would take seven years before Styx recorded another studio album.
Metal Machine Music – Lou Reed (1975)
This would be a fun party game: see how long you can listen to the first track of Metal Machine Music before you tap out and beg for it to end. If you last longer than two minutes, you win a prize. There are some who believe that this two-record "experimental" electronic noise was Reed's way of cutting loose from his contract with RCA. Reed has claimed that this album was a serious attempt at music, but he also confessed to being really high at the time. This album also marks the end of Reed's creative streak, and it gives John Cale fans all the evidence they need to prove that he was the true musical mastermind behind the Velvet Underground's best work.
Amnesiac – Radiohead (2001)
I really wanted to like this album. I gave it an honest listen. Twice. But after repeatedly subjecting myself to Amnesiac, I got the feeling that this is what severe head trauma must sound like. I guess after writing Radiohead's four previous albums, Thom York must have grown weary of composing actual songs. There is plenty of blame to be meted out for this one: by the band's third album, OK Computer, it was evident that Radiohead was en route to a major misstep in their musical catalog. Instead of staging an intervention and issuing the band an ultimatum, critics praised OK Computer as original and refreshing, ignoring the strange arrangements and weird lyrics. As a listening public, we should recognize signs like this as a musical affront, and vow to auto correct any band at the first sign that they have gone off the rails.
Article 6, Paragraph 2 of the Mix CD Axiom states that it is not advisable to use a cornerstone song in multiple Mix CDs. However, I have broken my own rule only once for Bruce Springsteen's "Bobby Jean". In my defense, the sentiment held true both times, and the fact that it was recycled didn't diminish the feeling behind it.
The common misconception about the song is that it's written for ex-girlfriend. It makes sense if you read the lyric sheet. In the novel High Fidelity by Nick Hornby, Rob Gordon refers to the song by name as a send off to an ex-girlfriend. However, in the movie version, Rob mentions his quest to see all of his former lovers was like a generic Springsteen song. The Boss even has a cameo for the film. I have a hunch that the name of the song was removed from the script because Springsteen told director Stephen Frears "you know Bobby Jean's a guy, right?"
The song was actually inspired by the departure of Steve Van Zandt from the E Street band in 1984. Van Zandt had not only been an original E Streeter, but had played in some of Springsteen's earlier bands. Now that E Street has reunited, they frequently play this song, with the jumbotron camera squarely trained on "Little Stevie".
In the song, Bobby Jean is leaving town without telling anyone. Springsteen tells the tale of the history of the friendship with great sentiment. The best part of the song is the conclusion of the tune. The Boss notes that his thoughts are always with Bobby Jean.
Maybe you'll be out there on that road somewhere
In some bus or train traveling along
In some motel room there'll be a radio playing
And you'll hear me sing this song
Well if you do you'll know I'm thinking of you and all the miles in between
And I'm just calling one last time not to change your mind
But just to say I miss you baby, good luck goodbye, Bobby Jean
When you live in a college town and you're not a student, the cast of characters change frequently enough, you start to think that you're on Law and Order. Bloomington, Indiana is nothing more than a way station for women of great potential, and the sooner you realize it, the better off you are.
I met the first Bobby Jean in the winter of 1997 during a remote broadcast from IU. I was working at the top 40 station, and she was in charge of the event we were promoting that day. My first impression was that she was very charming and very cute, and it stopped there. I was in a relationship, and I figured that even if I wasn't, I would probably only see her again for the final remote, and that would be the end of it. However, we started talked more and more, and before you knew it, we were starting something. I don't know what, but it was something.
On paper, we didn't really have anything in common. She came from a well established family in the south, and I was the son of a middle class family in Evansville. She was a little country, I was a little Rock N' Roll. But when you're 23, all you really need is a certain level of what my friend Trace called "serious heat and electricity". There was no indication that our tryst would have nothing more than a very short shelf life, but I dove into that pool head first. By the time we did get together, we only had a couple of months before she uprooted and moved back home.
The first Bobby Jean will hold the distinction as the first girl (and one of only two) who ever made me a mix. On the mix I made for her, Bobby Jean was the closing track. Although I wished more than anything that we could have had a real shot, I knew that she wouldn't come back to me. All I could do was say I miss you, baby. Good luck, goodbye.
Several years later, I was hitting an all time low. Within a month, I was temporarily moved off of nights at WTTS, had my job threatened every day, my parents had just split up, and I had just been dumped. But the good thing about a losing streak is that it allows one to have a personal renaissance. This is when I started to hang out with the second Bobby Jean.
It only takes an average of eight seconds for any heterosexual man to fall in love with this girl. She is very smart, very funny, very charming, oh yeah—and rather attractive. She has this gift of making people feel like that they are the most important person in the world. It's not flirting or teasing, it's genuine interest and a love of life. I swear to God, she should be in politics. This is the kind of person you need in your life when you hit rock bottom.
The second Bobby Jean and I never dated, and there is a large part of me that thinks that it was the best thing that could have happened. For as intoxicating as it is to be in her presence, I would have been crushed when she left (a lesson I learned from the first Bobby Jean). I once told her that if the situation were different, I'd be chasing after her at full speed.
"If the situation were different, you wouldn't have to," she responded.
It didn't matter if she told the truth or not. I felt like such a man.
She was also the driving force behind Radio Radio. I honestly believe that if I didn't know her, I never would have finished the first draft of the book. On the first Mix CD I made for her, I decided to use the Springsteen song again. More than any other, this song conveyed what I was feeling (with the possible exception of the first track, "Crimson and Clover"). I wouldn't try to change her mind, but just miss her terribly.
I never lost contact with the second Bobby Jean. She was living in Chicago, then moved to LA, and then back to Chi-town. On a trip to the region to do some last minute planning for the wedding, D and I met up with her for dinner on the north side. A few months later, she attended my wedding. She sat at the table with my friends from Minnesota, charming the socks off of everyone with whom she broke bread.
The first Bobby Jean disappeared for many years. I had tried on several occasions to find her online, to no avail. About a year ago, I spotted her on Facebook. She's married now, and has two beautiful daughters. I'm really happy that she found what she was looking for, and wish her the best.
I still think fondly of both of them when I hear that song. It's interesting that I only knew these women for short amount of time. They both had a tremendous impact on my life, and I thank them for that, and note that they both have a very special place in my heart. And now with the magic of the internet, I can leave out the "goodbye" part. Just the good luck part only applies, and I get the added bonus of catching up with my old friends online.
Although in the past, I've played the game of what if, I'm happy that things turned out the way they did. I have a wonderful wife who is very supportive, and very understanding. She's the one, but that's another Springsteen song for a future post.
Happy New Year! We continue the Andy Dufresne List, already in progress.
10. Super Theory of Super Every Thing – Gogol Bordello (2007) The first time I heard this song was in July 2007. D was in town as she was prepping to move to Minnesota (because in the summer, it seems like a good idea). We were on Lake Street on the way back to my apartment when we heard this Ukrainian goofball talking about the first time he had read The Bible. This was not our first exposure to lead singer Eugene Hutz.
If you have ever seen the movie Everything Is Illuminated, he plays the role of Alex, the not so premium translator for Jonfen in Odessa. In fact, when we heard this (not knowing that Hutz was "singing"), D said "Wow, that sounds like 'Alex'!"
9. Paranoid Android (Live) – Brad Mehldau (2000)
In the interest of full disclosure, I never really bought into the whole "Thom York is a genius" philosophy. I liked Pablo Honey and The Bends, and then Radiohead went down the rabbit hole. I always felt that the first release from their third album was a little disjointed. I was never convinced that "Paranoid Android" was actually a good song that was just poorly recorded. Fast forward to 2000 when a jazz pianist named Brad Mehldau grabbed a hold of it, shook it up, and laid it out in a stunning 9:23 make good for everyone who wanted this to be a great song, and were let down by the author.
8. If I Ever Leave This World Alive – Flogging Molly (2002) Any song from the album Drunken Lullabies could have made this list, but If "I Ever Leave This World Alive" has the edge over the title track, "What's Left of the Flag" and "Rebels of the Sacred Heart". The song speaks of a very close friendship that starts as an acoustic number. After the second bridge, the song picks up to a rockin' tribute that out Pogues the Pogues.
7. Skinny Love – Bon Iver (2008) When I first heard this song, I was really getting into Beck's Sea Change CD. I was re-introduced to "Lost Cause" and exclaimed that it was his best work. A week later, I heard "Lost Cause" again on the Current, and they played it back to back with this new song called "Skinny Love" by some guy from Wisconsin. Not only was I floored at the pure genius of the playlist, but I was also taken by the structure of the song. I immediately went home and bought it on Amazon. Since then, it's been one of the songs that I play whilst I am working on the second novel.
6. Up From The South – The Budos Band (2006) I first heard about this band was after I read an article in the Star Tribune about the 2007 SXSW music fest in Austin. The writer of the piece said that one of the highlights for him was this funk/soul band from Staten Island called the Budos Band. Starving for some new music, I looked them up on iTunes, and previewed the first song on their self entitled CD. In 30 seconds, I was sold on the bass, rhythm, and brass. I promptly bought the songs and listened to it over and over again. The song was fast tracked on the VBC, and became a staple of the playlist. You may have heard it, as it was featured on a commercial for the NFL Network.
5. In The Sun – Joseph Arthur (2000)
This is probably not the only list in which this song has appeared. This beloved song (as my friend, Andie, likes to call it—"the God Song") has appeared in such films as The Bourne Identity and Saved and television shows including The L Word and Scrubs (it has also appeared in Grey's Anatomy, but since I mentioned it was in Scrubs, it's assumed that "GA" grabbed a hold of it too, as it has ripped off the half hour comedy show countless times). It's been covered by Peter Gabriel, Michael Stipe and Howie Day. The song is usually noted for the line "May God's love be with you", however, it certainly not a spiritual song. In fact, it takes the position of the agnostic ("I'm not even sure if there is anyone who is in the sun will you help me to understand").
4. Time – Tori Amos (2001)
Strange Little Girls wasn't what I would call a solid effort for Tori Amos. Again, it's not an original concept; an entire album of covers. Annie Lennox and Shawn Colvin had already done this, and Tori had made a career of doing awesome covers. I don't think I had a great appreciation of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" until I heard her take on it. So why do this album? Why risk the reputation with an unconventional line up (I'm still trying to figure out why she did Eminem's "97 Bonnie and Clyde"). She was already the queen of the covers, she had nothing to prove. On first listen, I was about to give up in this album until track 7 played. At the time, I was still immersing myself in the Tom Waits catalogue; digesting songs slowly, but I was not well versed yet. Although I didn't recognize the song at first, I recognized that it had to be Tom's work. I sat back, smiled, and played the song again and again. To date, it is the only cover of a Waits song that I like better than the original.
3. Your Ex-Lover is Dead - Stars (2005) I usually don't buy a CD just by hearing it at a record store, but it has happened a few times (this is how I came to own a Me First and the Gimme Gimmes CD). I was rifling through the Elvis Costello stack at Cheapo Records when I heard this song that started off imitating a small chamber orchestra. It then shifted gears with a rhythm guitar riff that crawled out of a Lou Reed song book. As I had received some news about an ex-lover (that she was moving out of town), I was struck by a particular passage (which I quoted in a Episode 2 of the Neil Casey series).
There's one thing I want to say, so I'll be brave
You were what I wanted
I gave what I gave
I'm not sorry I met you
I'm not sorry it's over
I'm not sorry there's nothing to save
After I caught my breath, I asked the guy behind the counter what this was. He preceded to hand me a copy of Set Yourself On Fire by Stars, a band out of Montreal. As soon as I got home, I listened to the entire album twice in a row. Without a doubt, it's one of my top CDs of the 2000s. Hands down.
2. The Way it Is – Nicole Atkins (2007)
What the hell is it about New Jersey and its talent pool. You have Sinatra, Springsteen, and this young lady from Neptune City (which is the title of her 2007 CD). If you have ever asked yourselves the question "If Chrissy Hynde and Roy Orbison ever has a love child, what would she sound like?" you would have your answer. My first introduction to "The Way it Is" was when I was auditioning songs at the VBC. Nicole is agonizing over a guy who clearly isn't into her as she is into him. Simply beautiful.
1. Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels) – Arcade Fire (2004)
As with many songs that I have obsessed over, this story starts off with Todd saying "you've got to hear this song." Thus was the case for another band from Montreal when I was on a return trip to WTTS. There really isn't much I can say about this song. At this point words fail me to explain why this song hit me so hard. It just—fits.
Honorable Mention: It Keeps Rainin' – Robert Plant and the Lil' Band O' Gold (2007), Don't Know Why – Norah Jones (2002), List of Demands – Saul Williams (2004), Baby Please Don't Leave – Buddy Guy (2000), Happy As Can Be – Cut Off Your Hands (2009), Blitzed – The Raveonettes (2007), Fresh Feeling – Eels (2002)
As we are in the final hours of the first decade of the 21st Century, there are tons of lists to give you the "Best Of" of the 00s. Many times, you take a look at these lists and think "What the hell was this guy thinking." Lists like that are completely subjective, and has a heavy basis of the writer's bias. Most of these writers are self important, more interested in looking cool than show their work, and boast that their list (for whatever the subject matter) is "the definitive list". These guys make me nuts.
So why am I doing one? You ask.
I make no bones about it…this is my opinion. I don't claim to be the all knowing expert. I haven't heard every song that has been recorded since January 2000, and there is no hip hop or country music in this top 20. I'm just not well versed in hip hop, and I can't justify the honoring any song that shares a radio playlist with "Chicken Fry" by Zac Brown. This list only notes the 20 songs that knocked on my ass and made me pause. It's kinda like that scene in The Shawshank Redemption, when Andy Dufresne plays "Che Soave Zeffiretto" from Mozart's Le Nozze Di Figaro over the PA system, and the prisoners stand in stunned silence. In one way or the other, I had the same reaction the first time I heard each of these songs. I stopped what I was doing and just listened. Some of these songs may lack the same sense of beauty that is carried in The Marriage of Figaro, but they all reminded me why I love music so much.
But, before we get to the list, I really want to toss this little nugget into the best of stream of consciousness.
The Best Inside Joke of the 00s – "It's My Life" by Paul Anka (2005)
On first listen, there is nothing special to the 2005 CD Rock Swings by Paul Anka. The concept wasn't revolutionary; an entire compilation of taking songs from one genre and rearranging them to fit another. By 2005, not that many people knew/remembered who Paul Anka was, besides that he was the pit boss in the first five minutes of that crap Vegas movie 2000 Miles To Graceland. Plus many thought that if he was going to catch lightning in a bottle, he was eight years too late to cash in on the swing revival (thanks to Jon Favreau).
What endears the song to me is not that it's an improvement to a Bon Jovi song (which as it turns out, the secret is to have someone besides Jon Bon Jovi singing it), is the chorus of the song.
It's my life
My heart is like an open highway
Like Frankie said, "I did it my way"
It's a nice little nod from one Jersey guy to another. But if you look at the back story of "My Way", you find that Sinatra didn't write it. "My Way" was composed by (wait for it) Paul Anka. So in essence, Paul Anka is quoting Jon Bon Jovi, who is quoting Frank Sinatra, who is quoting Paul Anka. It goes around in a circle, just like Pop Up Video. Thanks Paul for making me and other music geeks smile at that.
And now, as Casey would say, on with the countdown.
20. If Only She Knew – O.A.R. (2001) Before they hit the main stream in 2008, this Columbus, Ohio band was the darling of college rock radio stations. Still riding the dying wave of ska, the band released Risen in 2001. The fourth track of that CD opens with an acoustic guitar solo then erupts with horns and a ska/reggae rhythm. The song speculates on what would happen if the object of the storyteller's affection knew his true feelings. While the song may not have the real emotional depth that one would expect with a list such as this, it harkens back to feelings that I'm sure anyone who has a Y-Chromosome can recall. If this song doesn't conjure a specific memory involving quarter beer night, skipping a philosophy class, and really wanting to go to bed with the hot girl d' jour, then you're just not trying.
19. Papercut – Linkin Park (2000)
It's hard not to be impressed with the opening track of Hybrid Theory. The haunting lyrics about an individual's paranoia give you not only an uneasy feeling of angst, but the hope of normalcy. After listening to this, you get the feeling that this is what the Beastie Boys would sound like if they had taken performance enhancing drugs and spent four months in a room with no windows. Truly stunning.
18. Your Kisses Are Wasted on Me – The Pipettes (2007) Sure, you can say that Brit-pop from late 2005-2008 was pretty much all the same. You have girls with cockney accents trying to relive the early 60s music with modern themes. There's a bit of a repetitive drab you get from Lily Allen, Duffy and Amy Winehouse that seems to make this era across the pond a one trick pony. While The Pipettes do fall into this pattern, their delivery on "Your Kisses Are Wasted on Me" seems flawless. Unlike Winehouse's, the song isn't a darker, almost farcical version of classic music. Of course, Shirley Bassey never sang about going to rehab, and I never really wondered what it would sound like if she did. That's why I like the Pipettes so much. This song is just a throwback, and it's quite refreshing.
17. The Devil Went Down To Georgia – Johnny Socko (2000) OK. You've got me. There is a Hoosier State bias on this one. I have seen Johnny Socko live countless times, many of there shows were at the Bluebird in Bloomington. In fact, I was at the live show that was recorded for their triple live CD. However, the version of this song that I am talking about isn't the live dance song, but part of a sampler for their Quarto CD (which ironically enough, it's not on Quarto). This era for Johnny Socko served as a transition period, as the band started to move away from the horn heavy sound to a more guitar centric feel. They also get bonus points for riffing "Sweet Child of Mine" in the Devil's solo, proving that Guns and Roses (Axel Rose, by the way is another Indiana guy, but he's from Lafayette) has got to be the soundtrack to Hell.
16. Baby Fratelli – The Fratellis (2006) This song has a couple of deep meanings for me. Firstly, I heard it for the first time on WOXY.com (while they were still headquartered in Oxford, OH) as an advance single for their CD Costello Music, which was already released in the UK. Secondly, this is how I learned that you can't access iTunes UK from the colonies. So I had to wait for two months until it was officially released in the United States. God, I hate the record industry.
15. Hate It Here – Wilco (2008) I want to lead off this one by suggesting that Chicago based Wilco is the most underrated band from the last 30 years. They have had arguably two of the best albums of the 2000s (Yankee Foxtrot Hotel and Sky Blue Sky). "Hate it Here" starts with Jeff Tweedy singing about keeping busy after his girlfriend has left him. The song then takes a sharp right turn into "Come Together". It then goes back and forth with Tweedy waiting in vain for his beloved to come back, and telling us that he hates being in their home alone.
14. Stuck Between Stations – The Hold Steady (2006)
Honestly, if I didn't live in Minnesota, I'd still be all about these guys. I was originally turned on to this Minneapolis band by fellow Cub sufferer The Reach right after the CD Boys And Girls in America was released. The opening of the song almost makes you think that this is going to be an 80s pop metal tribute song, then the keyboards come in. The lyrics start off quoting On The Road—
There are nights when I think Sal Paradise was right.
Boys and Girls in America have such a sad time together.
—And then it launches into a Springsteen-esque aria about poet John Berryman's suicide in 1972 who leapt from the Washington Street Bridge in Minneapolis. Lead singer Craig Finn, truly a lover of great literature and poetry. Now, if he would just read my book…
13. I and Love and You – The Avett Brothers (2009) The only reason that this song doesn't rank higher is that it's too new. I just can't justify putting a song in the top 10 of a decade after only being exposed to it for just two months. I fear that my current obsession with this song might cloud my judgment, and proclaim it better than songs that have settled in the musical stream of consciousness. If this song had a couple of more years on it, then it may finish much higher (or a lot lower…who knows). As I had written in my November 20th post, the song hit me like a ton of bricks on the way home from my wife's school's Fall Ball.
12. Fallen For You – Sheila Nicholls (2000) If "Funkytown" (1979) can be played on a bunch of 80s stations, then "Fallen For You" qualifies for this list. Yes, I recognize that the source album Brief Stop was released on November 16, 1999, but it wasn't until its appearance in the 2000 film High Fidelity that most people in The States had heard it. This heartbreaking love confession interruptus is only backed up with a piano. Sheila stops short of letting out every detail of her feelings when she realizes that her love is not requited, and that her interpretations of romantic gestures by the man of her dreams (or woman, Sheila is bi after all) were actually intended for another woman.
11. Diablo Rojo – Rodrigo y Gabriela (2006)
So you have a duo from Mexico that plays traditional Spanish Flamenco guitars that earned their notoriety after relocating to Ireland. It sounds less like a story about an up and coming band and more like a World Cup of Soccer schedule. Diablo Rojo takes its name, and feel, from a roller coaster (named Red Devil) in Denmark. The song starts off slowly, and then takes off at breakneck speed. The thing that you have to keep in mind is that there are just two people playing. There are no backup studio musicians, or multi track overlays in the song. They recorded it as if they are performing live. Gabriela's mano-dexterity and unshakeable rhythm is unearthly, and Rodrigo's hypnotic melody line adds to a true musical treat.
It started in early 2000. I was helping my friend Todd move when he threw down the proverbial gauntlet as he tossed me a six CD wallet filled with store sampler discs.
"I bet that you can't fill this wallet with the music of your life," he challenged.
Todd and I had recently discussed the Robert Fulgham book Words I Wish I Wrote. The passage in question revolves around Fulgham's thoughts on a soundtrack of a person's life (incidentally, Todd has written on this topic as well).
If your life were made into a movie, and that movie had an appropriate soundtrack, and I went to a record store to buy a CD of the music, what would be on it? What mood would it leave me in when I played it? The questions necessarily impose limitations. The music must fit on a single CD; choices must be made. No defense of choice is necessary. It's assumed the selections will be idiosyncratic, combining some music in the common realm with bits and pieces of melody patched together from who knows where. The music of the soundtrack of a life will not be original, but it has passed into us, left its sound in the jukebox of the mind, become part of us, and we will likely pass it on.
"Six CDs", I scoffed. "No problem."
"There are rules," Todd said.
"Sure."
"It must be chronological as an autobiographical work."
"OK. Easy enough."
"And you can't use the same artist twice in one CD, or variations of the same artist. For example, you can't have the Beatles and solo Lennon or Wings on the same disc."
"You bastard!"
To make things more difficult, the challenge was to make six CDs, not tapes. In 2000, that capability was very new to me, and I had yet to put together a successful mix CD. Keep in mind, this was in an era before iTunes for Windows, so it's not like I could rip a CD and just keep a playlist. I had to approach this as I did with a mix tape. I had to write down all of the nominated songs on a legal pad, and mark the significance (not part of the wager, however it was good for a defense, just in case Todd demanded me to show my work upon completion).
Another obstacle was that most of the songs that I wanted to include were archived on cassette or vinyl, so I would have to make more than 50 digital copies of songs…in real time.
From conception to end, the project took three months, 96 songs, and ten 74 minute CDs (I had several false starts and disc errors). This was the beginning of what I called the Anthology Project. The first six volumes were titled From DNA to 26. The first three were completed in April 2000, and the last three were finished in June 2000. Since then, I have added four new volumes (which have all been a two disc set), one every two years. I have also reissued the first nine volumes two years ago, adding a bonus track per CD to take advantage of the 80 minute CD capability.
Yes, I am a music geek.
As tradition would dictate, the list of nominations concludes the day after Christmas every odd year. I'd then spend the next week reviewing every song, and making cuts from the list. Then I would burn the CD and release the track list on the day after New Year's Day of an even year.
As this is not a mix CD, but rather a chronicle, this collection falls out of the rules of the Mix CD Axiom (rules that Todd and I came up with a long time ago, which I have modified over the years…it will be the feature of a future post in 2010).
I'm debating whether or not to post the previous 10 playlists. Until I figure that out, here are some fun facts about the project thus far.
Each volume opens with the Fox Fanfare performed by Helm and Heik (available on iTunes), followed by Robert Fulgham reading the excerpt about the soundtrack (From the audio book of Words I Wish I Wrote). However, the line about the soundtrack fitting on one disc has been edited out (for obvious reasons).
There are 243 actual songs on 14 CDs.
Van Morrison and Elvis Costello are tied for the most songs (5). Tom Waits, Tori Amos, and Bruce Springsteen are second (4).
William Shatner appears twice, which is once more than The Rolling Stones, ELO, The Smiths, Louis Armstrong, and John Lennon.
Fittingly, more songs reference Todd (16) than anyone else, and he is referenced on the most volumes (5). D has the record for most songs per volume (8 songs on Anthology X).
Only one other person has all ten volumes (besides me). I gave D a copy when we got engaged. I figured that if she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me, she was entitled to the backstory.
No song is repeated, or ever will be. An alternate version or a cover may appear.
There are 47 songs that have been nominated in the past two years. It runs at 3:04:17, and needs to be edited to 2:38:30. Some songs deal with loss and death, while others signify pure joy. Three weddings are referenced and new friends and old ones are honored in this list. And The Nominees for Anthology X1 – The Demon Barber of Seville are…
z - One Week – Barenaked Ladies
Zip Gun Bop – Royal Crown Review
z - Remember The Rain – Brad Terry & Lenny Breau
z - All The Time – Johnny Mathis
z - Fever – Buddy Guy
Falling Slowly – The Swell Season
Blitzed – The Raveonettes
z - Mother Mary – Foxboro Hot Tubs
Mercy – Duffy
z - Skinny Love – Bon Iver
z - Don't Stand So Close To Me – The Police
Where Is My Mind? – The Pixies
St. James Infirmary – Cab Calloway
z - The Way It Is – Nicole Atkins
She's My Best Friend – The Velvet Underground
My Way – Gary Oldman (From Sid and Nancy)
Janine – Soul Coughing
z - Never Going Back Again (Live) – Lindsey Buckingham
z - Ring The Bells – James
I Found a Reason – Cat Power
Trash – New York Dolls
Breath Me – Sia
You're Going To Make Me Lonesome When You Go – Madeleine Peyroux
Sad Professor – REM
z - The Great Defector – Bell X1
z - A Thousand Eyes – Crystal Antlers
z - Canon In D – Sharp Jimmy and the Damn It Five
American Wedding – Gogol Bordello
Percussion Gun – White Rabbits
Matter of Time – Los Lobos and Elvis Costello
z - Jump Into The Fire – Harry Nilsson
I Put a Spell On You – Screamin' Jay Hawkins
Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop – Landon Pigg
House of the Rising Sun – Nina Simone
z - Straight To The Top (Vegas) – Tom Waits
z - Happy As Can Be – Cut Off Your Hands
z - 40 Day Dream – Edward Sharp & The Magnetic Zeros
F.N.T. – Semisonic
The Rainbow Connection – Willie Nelson
z - Never Forget – Dropkick Murphies
I'll Follow The Sun – Glen Phillips
z - I and Love and You – The Avett Brothers
Take Me Home – Holly Cole
Sloop John B. – Joseph Spence
Thanksgiving – Poi Dog Pondering
z - Grass – XTC
Norwegian Wood – Jeremy Messersmith and Zach Coulter z – Already Guaranteed a Spot
Without a doubt, it's the most bizarre and jarring version of a traditional holiday song ever recorded. You're not sure if it's serious, a joke, really bad, or genius. Joseph Spence's cover of "Santa Clause is Coming to Town" certainly has its own sound.
Before you pass judgment on this song, consider this. Joseph Spence was born in the Bahamas in 1910, and he is considered a musical hero to the Bahamians. Most of his songs deal a lot less with actual…what do you call them… words, and focuses more on impromptu vocalizations. It's not like he forgot the words to the song, or doesn't speak English very well, that's just his style (you should hear his version of Sloop John B. It's worth the 99 cents on Amazon). Spence also became one of the pioneers of tuning his guitar differently, a technique called "Drop D Tuning". There are some that consider him the "Thelonious Monk of Folk Guitar".
That being said—
Just because something is revolutionary, it doesn't mean that it's genius. Jimi Hendrix strung his guitar upside down. That was genius. An insurance company uses a lizard to sell its product. That's not genius. Spence's musical style falls somewhere in between this spectrum. Granted, it's strange to hear this song as "Sandy Clarw is Coming Heaaaaaaan"; however, there is wiggle room for interesting interpretation for this song. It's not a Shakespearian Sonnet, it's a crappy Christmas song for the love of all things holy. It's a nice curve ball to the mundane repetitive drone we hear from the day after Thanksgiving until 11:59pm on December 25. However, I don't think it's much more than that.
It's a little bit of holiday cheer…well, sort of. Tom Wait's signature holiday song really has little to do with Christmas (as the title of this post would indicate).
As Waits is known for his unique prose that are often quite poetic, and yet would make Thoreau blush and maybe even pray, this song is quite simplistic. The plot of the story of the song is the title, "Christmas Card From a Hooker In Minneapolis". This is the inside message of a Christmas card sent to a man named Charlie from an unidentified woman. It's unclear what the relationship between the woman and Charlie is, but you kinda get the sense that Charlie is the poor shlum who has undying feelings for this woman (she is quite aware of it) and has a history of bailing her out of trouble, no matter how much she has screwed up.
The Amsterdam Hotel, on the corner of 9th and Hennepin, could have been a home to a hooker that sent out a Christmas Card.
The only reference to Christmas in the piece is in the title. The song would have a totally different meaning if were titled "Letter From a Hooker In Minneapolis". In fact, some who live in the City of Lakes claim that the song has very little to do with Minneapolis. In the song, the woman states that she lives above a dirty book store on 9th and Euclid. There is no 9th and Euclid in Minneapolis. However, there is a 9th and Hennepin (which is a title to a song Tom would record 7 years later). In the late 70s (when this song was written), 9th and Hennepin was a seedy part of downtown. If there was a dirty book store, that would be a good location to have one. Since then, that stretch of Hennepin has become the city's theater district.
As the story opens, the woman tells Charlie that she has a man who is a musician. She's with child, and they are about to start a family. The musician is unphased by the fact that he is not the father. She lets on that things are going well for her (except that someone stole her record player). As the song closes, she has her moment of honesty. She says that there is no guy that is taking care of her, and she's in jail. She hints to Charlie that she needs a large sum of money to pay off her lawyer. She butters him up by telling Charlie that there's a possibility that she will be out of the pokey on Valentine's Day.
Several years ago, Neko Case did a cover of this song for a Tom Waits tribute CD. It's strange to say this, but it's almost wrong to hear a female sing this song. Part of the charm of the song is Wait's gruff voice belting out "Charlie I'm Pregnant" to open the song. It's just wrong to hear it otherwise.
This is the first of a two part series. I know that there are other songs that are miscast. However, now that this is the holiday season, I thought that I would focus on two "Christmas songs" that really aren't Christmas songs.
A little more than a year after the VBC launched, I added the song "2000 Miles" by the Pretenders into the regular rotation. Not too long after it stated to play, someone (their identity will remain safe) pulled me aside.
"Why are you playing this song?"
"It's a great song. Why wouldn't I play it?"
"It's February," the person said slowly.
"And?"
"It's a Christmas song."
All I could do is take a deep breath, and shake my head.
To say that "2000 Miles" is a Christmas song is to say that The Godfather is a holiday film. It has to be. There is one scene when Al Martino's "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" plays. It's right before Luca Brasi started sleeping with the fishes.
"2000 Miles" is actually about a long distance relationship. At the beginning of the song, Chrissie Hynde's opening line "He's gone," is utterly heartbreaking. Her lover has just left, and that moment has just become the longest possible amount of time before she will be reunited with him. The next time that they will be together will be on Christmas.
That's the only thing that the song has to do with Christmas.
The song has a bit of significance to me. When D and I first got together, we were a long distance relationship. I lived in Minneapolis, and she resided in Costa Mesa, California. We were literally 2000 miles away (according to Google Maps it's only 1,935 miles, but still). "2000 Miles" was the opening track to the second mix CD I made for her, which by the way was not a Christmas CD. Plus, I live in Minnesota. The line "The snow is falling down, it gets colder day by day" can be ANY day…not just "Christmas time". The song pretty much summed up the first few chapters of our relationship, until she moved out here (which when we're at this time of the year, we both wonder why I didn't move to California, Uber Allas).
The song was also miscast in 2007 in an episode of Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip. I loved that show (and apparently, only one of 12 people in the country that did), and Aaron Sorkin usually does a great job of using music in his stories, but he really missed the mark for this one. At the conclusion of "The Harriet Dinner Part 2", Danny and Jordan finally get off the roof of Studio 60(and get it on), Matt gets rejected by one of the Bombshell Babies about an hour after he found out that Harriet was considering sleeping with his old rival, and the stage of the Addison Theater gets ripped up because a viper, coyote, and a ferret are trapped underneath. None of these plot points have anything to do with a long distance relationship…or Christmas. To be fair, I know that Sorkin is a fan of the Pretenders, He used "Hymn to Her" in an episode of Sports Night (again, its uses is a stretch for the plot).
The song has been covered a couple of times. KT Tunstall released it couple of years ago for a holiday EP, and Sheryl Crow and Coldplay have taken a crack at it.
Don't get me wrong. I certainly can feel the spirit of the season while listening to "2000 Miles" and sipping on some egg nog or wassail…or whatever's handy. I'd just like to hear a radio station play it during the other 11 months of the year.
I'm going to lose some street cred on the initial statement, but by the end of this, I believe my point may be made. Since nobody else will say it, I will. The Beatles are overrated.
Now, let me clarify that statement. The later Beatles catalogue makes up for the earlier work, but if you're grading on an average, the Beatles are far from being the A students for which almost everyone gives them credit. If you step back and take into account what was going on in the United States on February 9, 1964 you'll understand the inflated stock. We were only 2 months removed from losing John F. Kennedy, and there was a troop escalation in a faraway place called Vietnam. The collective mood of the country was extremely low (except for Jimmy Hoffa and the CIA), and we were looking for something to lift our spirits. Enter four well dressed lads from Liverpool. They crossed the pond to the right place at the right time to hang out with Ed Sullivan. The country was taken by storm with such inane lyrics like "She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah," and "I want to hold your hand." Suddenly we had found the youth, charm, and innocent optimism that we lost in Dallas on a Friday afternoon. If the Beatles had missed that window by four months either way they would have been no bigger in this country than say, Queen.
In truth, the Beatles were nothing more than the boy band of its day. With songs like "I Saw Her Standing There" and "From Me To You", they would have been touring malls if they debuted in the late 80's. Even the British icon of cool dissed the Beatles in 1964. James Bond in Goldfinger remarked "there are some things that just aren't done, such as drinking Dom Perignon '53 above the temperature of 38 degrees Fahrenheit. That's just as bad as listening to the Beatles without earmuffs!"
The Beatles started to make some strides, and by the time Revolver came out, the new Beatles sound was mature, serious, and had the hint of some major drug induced writing sessions. In the later years, there were only a few missteps the fab four had. Yoko and letting Ringo sing seems to top the list. Musically, there was one song that stuck out…"Across the Universe".
Until several years ago, I never liked that song, and I still don't like the Beatles version. To me, the mood of the vocals just didn't match the mood of the guitar. I have always thought that George Harrison's guitar begged for John Lennon to sing the song with more melancholy. To me, it was obvious that George and John were not in the studio at the same time. Such promise for a lyrically beautiful song that just wasn't realized.
One of the more notable covers in the last 15 years was released in 1999 for the Pleasantville soundtrack. Again the voice was a miscast. The producers of the film wanted to make a splash for the soundtrack, and they brought in Fiona Apple. She was off the heels of her phenomenal debut CD Tidal, and was preparing her second album. Fiona's jazzy low vocals didn't match the instrumentation. A nice try, but I still couldn't hear that song and feel the way I had always thought I should.
Then by chance, a second generation recording artist nailed the song three years later. Rufus Wainwright's bonus track from the CD Poses possesses everything that I was looking for in the song. His voice blends perfectly with the guitar, and feeds the need to close your eyes and just enjoy the song. For the first time, the mix was right, and Rufus's version had become the gold standard.
There have been two versions released this year. I have yet to hear the Cyndi Lauper version, but I did hear the unfortunate cover by Minnesota native Nicholas "The Feelin" Mrozinski. We'll just add it to a list of others who tried to match what Rufus did.
It was May 2001 when I became a huge Tom Waits fan. My friend Todd let me borrow Beautiful Maladies and told me to listen to a song called "Clap Hands". Within 3 minutes, I was hooked for life. I then started on a holy quest to acquire most of his albums. About a year later, there were two new Waits releases, Alice and Blood Money. I really liked them both (but had a preference to Blood Money), and couldn't wait to get more. A few years later, I laid hands on his latest release, Real Gone, to which I was a fan of immediately. I was getting spoiled. There had been 3 new CDs in 2 years. I thought that this was a prolific trend that I could get behind.
However, I had to wait until 2006 before another release came out. Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers, and Bastards was not a new studio release. It featured outtakes and songs that I had already had copies of (like "Book of Moses" from the Skip Spence tribute album, and his interesting interpretation of "Heigh Ho"). Not that the release was a waste of time and/or money. I was thrilled with his cover of The Ramones "Danny Says" (which will be in a future post) and "Sea of Love". But I wanted something new, from Alpha to Omega.
Earlier this month, I was happy to learn that there would be a new Waits CD coming out today. Although this is not a studio album, I'm happy to add to my mounting collection of Waits MP3s. Glitter and Doom is a compilation of songs recorded from his 2008 world tour, one that did not include a stop in Minneapolis (Not feeling the love Tom). To make up for his limited tour, Tom had offered a free sample of the CD, featuring the first eight tracks from the new CD. While any purchase is going to put on hold for a few weeks, I have been going through the gratis sample to great delight. I am quite taken with the live version of "Singapore", a favorite of mine from Rain Dogs. He leads off the CD with "Lucinda", an Orphans original, which serves well as an opening song for any show. So far, my favorite is "Get Behind the Mule", originally from Mule Variations.
A word of warning. This is advanced Waits that requires some prerequisites. If you are not familiar with his work, this is not what you want to use to get started. Anytime I want to start someone on Waits, I recommend Heart Attack and Vine, which is a good Waits starter's kit. It's a merger of his earlier "Piano Bar" era, and you start to hear the ground work for his later shift that becomes more apparent in Swordfish Trombone. Depending on which sound of his you like better, you have the option of either working backwards or forwards. Plus, the title track of the album has one of my favorite lines "There ain't no devil, it's just God when he's drunk".
I am an author and freelance writer. I have published a novel titled Radio Radio, written a full length screenplay, four short films and a pilot for a television show. I am a two time Script Frenzy winner and the music columnist for Praxis Magazine. In between cheering for my beloved Indianapolis Colts and playing in online poker tournaments (as IndianaShane on PokerStars), I’m working on my second novel and screenplay (they are the same story). I live in Minneapolis with my very beautiful and extremely cool wife, DeAnna, our two dogs and pet rat.
