Top One or Two Hundred Whatevers, Part Three: Guitar Solos

This just another group of ten, with no attempt at being comprehensive. Just ten I immediately think of, or that are playing in my head at any given time.

But it’s better that way. This isn’t something I should have to think too hard about.

Oh, and the number of artists is ludicrously low. My mind is usually all over the place, but in this case these solos have gotten all the way into the lizard part of my brain. I’ll do another post if I make it back out to the monkey part.


Television:

Supposedly punks because of their intensity, they actually know how to play their instruments. Tom Verlaine and Richard Lloyd are both great guitar players.

There’s all kinds of loveliness on their second album, but it’s the first one that shook the world.

“See No Evil”:
The first guitar bangs out a primitive rhythm in a low register. The next one plays a repeating pattern that can only be described as snarling, this time in a higher register. Then Tom Verlaine chokes out - in yet a higher register - the words What I want, I want now! so you know these guys really mean business.
But it’s not quite fast enough to let the soloist just coast. It’s setting a level of intensity that will have to be heightened or it will all be for nothing. But Richard Lloyd's solo finds exactly the right space by going up yet another register, but not too high. Not yet. He plays a simple riff but builds the notes and the speed until there’s nowhere else to go, at which point he ends it with a descent (or is it an ascent?) into supremely controlled chaos.

“Marquee Moon”:
Nine minutes long, with dueling guitar solos taking up the middle, this one reminds me of climbing a mountain. Slow at first, but gradually increasing the intensity until it’s at a fever pitch.
It climaxes with a rush to the top of the mountain where you can feel the wide open space and even hear some (prehistoric?) birds. (You always risk sounding like an idiot when writing about rock and roll, don’t you?)
It was the song playing when a life change occurred. Friend and then Roommate Mike was moving to Europe.
While we shared an apartment, he and I would stay up all night drinking, talking and listening to music. On the day he left, I put this album on as he was getting ready. I picked it because we both loved it, and knew it would be the last one we’d listen to together.
He was all packed and waiting for the ride when this song came on, and it really felt like we were climbing that mountain. At the end, Mike put on his wings and jumped off the top, and I stayed behind because that’s what I do.
After the climax, it starts all over again. On the original vinyl, Tom Verlaine gets out a couple of lines of the verse before it fades out at 10:08, leaving you with the feeling that it continues on forever while you (but most likely me) have to head back down the mountain to face real life again, or perhaps the cemetery that they mention earlier in the song.


Crosby Stills Nash and Young: 

Yeah, who would have thought?

“Carry On” (Live Version):
In theory, this long live version of a pretty tight studio song should suck. But I’ve got it basically memorized. Sloppy, self-indulgent but brilliant nonetheless. The singing doesn’t even try to match the polished harmonies on the original, but that is more than made up for by the passion. Again, dueling guitars - this time courtesy of primal Neil Young and fluid Stephen Stills - that are worthy of the Allman Brothers, Grateful Dead and Eric Clapton. Who said more isn’t better?


Eric Clapton: 

And speaking of this idiot, I like to recall the time when he could do no wrong (music-wise, that is):

“Let it Rain”
It helps that this is a very pretty song with a chord progression that just encourages a guitar hero to go nuts. But on the studio version, Eric manages to balance control, passion and invention. I used to love when it came on the radio when my Led Zeppelin-loving friends were around.

“Crossroads”
Yeah, I know that it’s been spliced together from several performances but as a piece of recorded art it’s astounding. There are so many shifts of phrasing, tone and angle of attack that it simply can’t be absorbed all at one time. You have to pick the part to pay attention to or risk exhaustion.

“Badge”
Who knew Cream could do a perfect pop song?  But here it is. Beautifully vague but evocative lyrics, emotional singing, George Harrison’s lovely guitar and then Eric's solo. In terms of compression, emotion and technique this might be his best.

“Sitting on Top of the World”
From Goodbye this is an overlooked masterpiece. It’s rough and raw with at least two changes in tone. But he is all over it. Intense as hell.


Stephen Stills:

“Go Back Home”
From the first Stephen Stills record, but it’s Eric Clapton who solos on this. Apparently recorded in the middle of his heroin addiction, he didn’t even remember doing it.
It starts off slow and easy but then halfway through Clapton jumps in and there is just no turning back. Another example of him improving a song without completely taking it over.

And as long as we’re talking about guitarists who are all over someone else’s record….


Derek and the Dominos:

“Why Does Love Have to Be So Sad?”
This is really all about Duane, and I must add that it’s not just the solo, but also the frantic pace of the damned thing. And then there are his fills that only tighten the screws further. So the bar is set very high when it’s time for the solo. And Duane doesn’t let us down. He matches the blistering pace and then some.
Clapton does his level best to keep up (and without Duane his would have been a perfectly good solo) but he may as well just be playing rhythm. And in a way, he kind of is.


And that’s it for now.

Okay, I know I left a lot out but since I limited myself to ten, my conscience is clear.

Like the first two One or Two Hundreds which were about voices and melodies and emotions, these guitar players provide the same thing without saying a word.

But I’m sure you can think of a zillion records I left out.

Come at me, bro!

Older and (Hopefully) Wiser

Once a year - Thanksgiving at my brother’s house - we say Grace before dinner.

We usually force one of the kids to do it, 'cause that’s one of the fun things parents get to do. But this year my older brother Pat volunteered.

2017 was a tough year for us, with several of our relatives passing away. Mom was bad enough, but the hits kept coming, with Uncle Pat and Aunt Theresa, too. And all that by March.

The kicker, though, was our cousin Gene, who was just a couple of years older than us. It was the first death in the family of our own generation.

So Pat touched on that when he started Grace, and although he is probably the strongest of the siblings, he still got choked up part way through.



Loudon Wainright III: Older Than My Old Man Now

I first heard Loudon Wainright III on was with Album III back in 1972. (Remember “Dead Skunk”? It’s the leadoff track here.)

It was a good, but not great, album. LWIII was obviously talented, brutally honest, and funny. But maybe a bit too clever. His songs have always been autobiographical, but while writing about being a bit of a jerk can provide entertainment, it can also be limiting.

Well, he’s been at it for decades now, and you could count on hearing him on your local Americana station on a regular basis with a funny, clever or topical song. He was probably no one’s absolute favorite, but he was always damned good.

But now, after two failed marriages and finding himself older than his dad was when he died, he’s having to come to terms with big things, like family, aging, illness, and well, dying.

In doing so after all these years, he approaches greatness.

LWIII touches on a number of styles here: blues, talking folk, cabaret, ballads. These are tried and true vehicles for such subject matter.

He's always had a pleasant voice, but it seems to suit him and his themes a lot better now. Instead of being youthful and callow, it’s now aged, and still funny as hell.

It starts off okay, with a slick, jazzy tune that introduces the themes but that's a bit too general about them.

But after that, things kick up a notch or two with “In C” which both spoofs the somber solo piano arrangement he’s using while simultaneously kicking ass with it. The lyrics are mordantly funny, but deadly serious, with the following summary of his first marriage:

But I blame myself
And I blame her
The cruel and foolish people that we were

This is followed by the title song, an acoustic blues number about how his father’s death should have freed him from their tempestuous relationship, but only left him adrift. He starts it off by reading a piece by his father, about the very same thing.

“Double Lifetime” - a talking folk song - is about wanting more time, since we tend to f*ck up the time we’ve been given. And as more time goes by, this request seems eminently reasonable to me.

And he keeps at it, mixing styles and inviting his ex-wife and kids along.

The best of these family collaborations is probably the one with his son Rufus ,"The Days That We Die". Their relationship has been troubled and the song is about, well, troubled father-son relationships. Because the cycle continues.

And then there's "My Meds" which I can definitely relate to, and the hilarious “I Remember Sex”, a duet with Dame Edna.

Another highlight is “Somebody Else” with Chris Smithers - whose sandpaper voice is the perfect foil for LWIII's smooth tenor. It’s about the guilt and, yes relief, you feel when you hear about someone else’s death:
He was a guy, just somebody I knew
Once he paid me a compliment, right out of the blue
I was so relieved it was he who was dead
Just a guilty survivor, could’ve been me instead

The peak may be the wordless interlude near the end. Just LWIII humming tunefully. Those few seconds contain all the joy life can bring despite the pain and loss contained in all the other songs.

But even with that, he’s smart enough to end it with “No Tomorrow”, which gives good advice yet pulls no punches.

So, like the life he’s lived for the last seventy-one years, this record is filled with ups and downs.  Sometimes hilarious, brutal or tragic. Sometimes all three at the same time. But always true.

They say living well is the best revenge.

Hell, sometimes just living is.

A

Tenth Anniversary, More or Less: Top One or Two Hundred Whatevers, Part Two

I made a rather random start to this back in 2014.

It was inspired by an hour killing time in a Starbucks in Philadelphia. We were waiting to see my daughter in a show there, and I  was having one of their overrated hot chocolates. But they more than made up for it with their musical selections, which were - as the kids say - bangin’.

Within that hour they managed to press so many of my buttons that my wife and son couldn’t for the life of them understand why I was getting so choked up.

Which inspired my 200th post. 

At the time, I only managed to list ten, and I promised a follow-up, but the parameters of the thing were so all over the place that I’d never really come up with a comprehensive list. Even when I tried to impose some order on it and break it into sections, I could never be sure I was remembering everything I wanted to remember.

But I did want to put a few more songs together, and eventually found ten more from that old reliable decade: the 1960s. It’s a cop out I know. But at least I’ll clear them out of my head, which will allow me to move onto other things. I’ve already started my 1970s list, and who knows? I may even be able to come up with ten songs from my least favorite musical decade: the 1980s! (Yeah, you heard me, 1980s lovers!)

And, no, it’s not my 300th post, in case you were wondering. Think of it as my 10th Anniversary, since my first post was in September of 2007:


So here goes. Ten miscellaneous, but brilliant, songs from the 1960s, in no particular order:

Downtown - Petulia Clark:

When I was about six me and my family would sometimes visit my Uncle Frank’s bar, and he’d throw a bunch of quarters in the jukebox to keep us kids entertained.

My recollection is that he just punched in the same record over and over again. I concluded that this was how you were supposed to use a jukebox, and for years I’d do the same thing, until people begged me (around when “Winchester Cathedral” came out) to stop.

I vividly remember the first time my uncle did this, which was for this song. And the effect on me was electrifying.

So let me pick it apart and try not to ruin it in the process:

First, the lyrics are totally of the time. Britain as finally coming out of its post-WWII depression. I’m sure the words spoke to a lot of lower class folks struggling to make ends meet. And most Americans could identify, too, even if we were doing better than they were.

The message of forgetting your troubles for a while was pretty universal, if not revolutionary. So how do you put that across in a memorable way? Let’s look at the melody.

The first two lines (“When you’re alone and life is making you lonely…”) use the same melodic phrase. It’s quite good, so why not repeat it?

The next two (“Just listen to the music…) have a different repeated melodic phrase line. It’s a bit more conventional than the first, but it goes into a higher register and so builds the tension. In other words a perfectly good setup for the chorus of a perfectly good pop song.

But that’s not what happens. The singer’s friend is still not convinced. Maybe her troubles aren’t trivial. A perfectly good pop song just won’t do.

So, there’s that little line “How can you lose?", where the melody pauses its ascent, and seems in danger of trailing off, as if the singer is still desperately trying to find a way to persuade her friend to go.

But then she finds her inspiration with the next two lines (“The lights are much brighter there…”). The melody is still struggling to break free, and with the next line (“You can forget all your troubles…”) it does.

The chorus, of course, is wonderful - everybody recognizes it - but it’s kind of simple too, and it wouldn’t be nearly as powerful if that little interlude of struggle and resolve wasn’t there to make the victory all the sweeter.

It’s the chorus I noticed when I was six, but it’s that little interlude that gets me now. That interlude - so packed with emotion and melancholy - is like a prayer. When the chorus comes you can practically hear Britain transitioning from post-war black and white into sixties technicolor.

I would normally despise an arrangement that is so packed to the gills with brass, singers and even - to my surprise - Jimmy Page on guitar. But maybe the very glitziness of it is there to remind you that this joy will be temporary. That you still have to go home to your troubles and cares the next day.

But still, it makes you glad you’re alive.


98.6 - Keith

Another British record with an orchestra instead of a rock and roll band, but I don’t care.

I alluded to my love for this song here but I don’t think I quite put it across.

The couplet that gets me is:
My baby’s got me on another kind of highway,
I want to go to where it takes me.

Now that could just be an obvious drug reference, but to me, it’s about how the person you love can change you profoundly for the good. I’m pretty skeptical about people changing so when you convince me, that’s saying something.

There’s also something about Keith’s singing - modesty, maybe - that adds to the impact. A more accomplished singer would have ruined it.

Not convinced? Well then forget about the next one.


Western Union - The Five Americans

Again, referenced in the same post as 98.6, because of two lines that get to me.

After singing about heartbreak he drops these hopeful lines
I'll be on my way, 'cause
There's another girl for me

And it’s like watching the end of The Tramp.


Society’s Child - Janis Ian

This is a hit-you-over-the-head message song, so I’ll be brief.

This one’s got:

• Heartbreaking lyrics
• A soulful vocal
• Hooks galore

 and what all great songs have:

• An unhappy ending

Both Sides Now - Judy Collins

Yeah, I know. It’s a glossy pop record and thus has less “integrity” than any other version. 

And god knows, I blame Judy for practically giving me a depression, with her versions of “Send in the Clowns” and “Who Knows Where the Time Goes” (meaning they were that good) but she absolutely nails it here.

Her voice captures and exploits every single hook, melodic turn and lyric and the strings do what they’re meant to do - underline the emotion. And they do it without getting schmaltzy.  A great pop record.


Things I Want to Say - New Colony Six

Prior to this year, I might have heard this record twice - once when it first came out, and then again in the early 1980s when me and the Mrs. were first going out.

I didn’t know the title or the band, and so wandered in the wilderness for forty years or so before I finally managed to mentally assemble a line of lyric, which I then googled. And there it was!

When I played it again I feared it wouldn’t have the same impact that it did originally. But no. It was all there.

Another heartbreak song. In this one, she dumps him, but the guy reacts by wishing her well. (And I thought I was super passive-aggressive with my “I’m the better person” act!)

But seriously, this one effortlessly gets to my feels via a canny use of some minor chords and a melody that avoids going too sweet, which would have ruined it.


Moon River - Audrey Hepburn

As a young victim of “The Andy Williams Show”,  I got to hear the first line of this song every week for years. But that line - really just the words “moon river” all by themselves - are merely pretty. The kind of pretty a rock n roll lover like me despised for years.

That was until I saw "Breakfast at Tiffany’s" and heard the whole song. Those two words by themselves gave away nothing about the melancholy to follow. What was Andy thinking?

The melody is pretty good, but it’s the pairing of it with the chord changes that are exquisite and deeply moving.

Not rock and roll and I don’t care.


Daydream Believer - The Monkees

I went through several Monkees phases. First, there was the clueless fandom of an eight-year-old.

But what was worse was the desperate need to be cool of a thirteen-year-old. My friend and I came across a 45 of this song and proceeded to destroy it. We convinced ourselves we’d never want to hear that song (that I secretly loved) ever again.

What a fool was I! The song would only come back to haunt me.

And now, I'm in my third phase as a geezer who simply cannot deny the brilliance of this and many other Monkees songs

But you don’t need me to tell you how beautiful this one is, so ‘nuff said.


Pleasant Valley Sunday - The Monkees

I was at a friend’s house one summer’s day and they had this single. We spent the afternoon playing side B(!), which was “Words” (quite a good song). Over and over again. All afternoon.

Why? Because we thought it was Side A. After all, it had been featured in the show recently, not “Pleasant Valley Sunday”.  (Did I mention this in my stupid moments in Rock History post? I should have.)

PVS uses a speeded-up version of the guitar riff from the Beatles “I Want to Tell You” and I must admit that the Monkees made it - dare I say it? - better.

Again, an obvious choice, even if Carol King didn’t like their version.


Sometime in the Morning - The Monkees

Thanks to old friend Billy (whose house we were in for “Pleasant Valley Sunday”) who pointed out how great this song was.

I hear a bit of “Cousin Kevin” from Tommy in the guitar.  But their secret weapons here are writer Carole King and singer Micky Dolenz.

This song will bring back childhood memories like no other. One of their very, very best.


So there you have it. Ten more Great Moments, or Whatevers. And more to come in, oh, five years or so...

Aftermath

My posts are almost comically untimely, but thanks to a pathetic asshole with a rented truck, I’m momentarily back in sync with the rest of the world.


9/11:

I remember. Usually it's things immediately surrounding the day, as opposed to the day itself, which will always be a f*cking nightmare, and just too much to bear.

I remember a lot of friends and family members covered in soot walking across bridges to get home. And later finding out about three acquaintances who didn’t make it. Me? I got off scot-free, and still feel residual survivor’s guilt. (Beat’s the hell out of not surviving, right Jaybee? Right.)

I remember places, too. Spots where you can stand and be pretty certain somebody died right there.

And things, like charred pieces of paper floating all the way to my house in Brooklyn.

And about what would happen next. It turned out even worse than I imagined.

And how long it took to feel joy about anything.  You have to mourn first. And then have some hope.

And yes, I remember music, too. What I was hearing at the time, but also what it made me feel under those circumstances. Sometimes not at all what the artist intended. But a handy container for my emotions nonetheless.

The memories feel frustratingly random, until I suddenly realize why I'm remembering it.

Like how, in late August of that year I was at J&R Music World - my favorite record store at the time - which was just a few blocks from the Trade Center. And how, while I was there, a dozen firemen came in to check on a reported smoke condition. Then it hits me how unlikely it was that any of those guys made it on 9/11.

I bought a lot of records that day, but don’t play them often. Like Luna’s Penthouse, an otherwise excellent record, but one whose lyrics and music - admittedly taken out of context - only serve to remind me of the day:

Like “Chinatown”:
In the tiny tiny hours
Between the evening and the day
We have placed our final bets
We have come out to play

Lookin' lost in chinatown
Why are we hidin' from our friends
Rushing 'round in taxi cabs
Is it time to make amends

You'll get yours and i'll get mine
You can't be lucky all the time

It’s about running around the city late at night and having fun. But to me it sounds like the end of the era of a carefree New York.

And “Sideshow by the Sea Shore”:
And all the comforting words
Provide no comfort
We can all go mad together
That's what friends are for

Maybe about not having a good time at Coney Island, but under the circumstances the words sting.

“Moon Palace” is meant to sound slow and lazy, like most of the rest of the album, but it ends up sounding shellshocked and weary.


Mourning and Hope:

Earlier that year, I started a new job, which began to suck almost immediately. I consoled myself with streamed music (at least until the network manager told me I was being naughty).

Those music streaming services never quite persuaded me to get anything by the bands they played, possibly because in my mind they all got jumbled up into the big messy ball that was  9/11 and an awful job.

But this past 9/11 got me thinking about that time again. And I finally felt comfortable enough to get something by a couple of those bands.



Low: Things We Lost in the Fire (2001)

An appropriate title, don’t you think?

And the opening lines to the first song “Sunflower” begin:
When they found your body...

Well, it certainly starts in the right place, doesn't it?

This one is all about texture and harmonics. The pace is funereal - it rarely picks up to even a trot.

The two lead vocalists sing low and minor key harmonies most of the time. Nothing very sweet here.  And on the rare occasion when they get a little melodramatic, it doesn’t work for me.

The moody, mournful tone is otherwise sustained throughout the record, yet I’m never bored. That's pretty impressive.

And it expresses - accidentally or not - what I’m feeling about that day, and 10/31/17, for that matter.

A-

“Closer”



The Innocence Mission: Glow (1995)

They sound like an American version of the Sundays, especially when they play fast, but that isn’t too often.

Karen Peris’ sandpaper voice is a little too cute for my taste and the “hit” “Gone to Yellow” has what had sounded to me as a contrived melody. I took it as being pretty on the outside but maybe a little hollow inside.

But their insistently melodic songs (which would have sounded vulgar in late 2001) won me over. The lyrics aren’t dumb. Just sweet.

Like in "Keeping Awake":
Hearing your voice in the blue light
Calming people in the house
Traveling upstairs -
Good to be there
Now, right now

Like someone who arrived home safely - something we can’t take for granted anymore.

I catch religious overtones in the words, which are not my cup of tea, but if it brings them hope who am I to complain?

And they sound it. Hopeful, I mean.

A-

“Keeping Awake”


Going for Joy:

And Hope, like I said, is what you need if you ever expect to get to joy again.

Is it wrong to want joy after all that horror? It does feel a little selfish sometimes. I guess as long as it isn’t heedless - of what happened or of what is happening now - it’s okay.

After all, we’ll need our strength. And I don’t where else to get that from except joy.

And it turns out that even Luna has a little hope, even if it’s just in the music itself:

So, How Was Your Summer?

I feel like I can still ask this question since it’s f*cking 80 degrees out still.

But let's go back four months, when the Jaybee family did its typical Father’s Day routine by getting Mr. Jaybee a bunch of records.

And Jaybee himself did his best to ensure they would be “summer-y” albums. (The whole thing is stage-managed to within an inch of its life, thanks to amazon.com wish lists, shopping carts, etc.)

And how did I do? Pretty good, actually. Not everything is as summery as I would have expected but it didn’t keep me from listening.

One of the themes I couldn’t help but notice (as a rule, I'm too dense to notice these things) is that a few of these artists would end up shaking off some of their original weirdness and go on to make better records. I’m usually pretty skeptical of that strategy since it’s usually their weirdness that put them on the map to begin with.

But it worked for Car Seat Headrest, the New Pornographers and Jens Lekman, and I benefited from that happy turn of events.

God, I LOVE being wrong!



Yo La Tengo: Painful (1993)

I’d avoided this one for a while because I assumed the title referred to the extreme guitar noise that Ira Kaplan is inclined toward. But on this one, he holds back a bit on that, and only lets loose during the climax.

Instead, YLT dig deep into that 60s garage rock sound. So the melodies and classic chord structures don’t seem very original but when you’re mining such a rich vein, it’s got its nostalgic pleasures.  Ira Kaplan’s got a brilliant 1960s songwriter in him, or at least one tied up in his basement.

On the other hand, there are themes here that I’ve heard on other YLT albums, which makes this one less than essential, which isn’t fair since this one came first.

But such is life. And knowing me, I’ll come to love this is six months.

B+







Jens Lekman: Life Will See You Now (2017)

My first stab at a current year record. Last time I checked out this guy, he was doing his best to imitate a tacky overwrought 60s lounge singer, and succeeded! To a point.

Here he tones down the melodrama a bit, and sticks to very straightforward, almost inevitable melodies. There’s still a deceptively bland style, but the lyrics keep me paying attention, and the accompaniment is perfect.

Which means by making those little adjustments, he makes a great record.  So even when he edges toward lounge singer-ness, I’m fine with it.

A-

Future Islands: Singles (2014)

No, not a best of. How could that be? Nobody’s heard of them. They mean the other kind of singles.

I got this one blind. No recommendations other than from those questionable raves on amazon.com.

This is wimpy synth-based dance pop, so I should really hate it. 

Plus, the singer is semi-constipated (is that a thing? Note to self, google it.)  The first listen was one of fascinated horror.

But on the second spin, I began to notice that those synths were just this side of the line dividing tasteful from cheesy.

And the singer isn’t a bad guy. Maybe a bit too dramatic. But his voice beats the hell out of those nasally, choked vocals of Brits like Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet, who are trying to simulate a feeling, whereas this guy - limitations and all - is actually feeling them.

Turns out they’re from Baltimore!  No, that can’t be right. But it says so right there.

What the heck is going on here? I don’t know, but I like it. (Well, I admire it more than like it, but I like it a hell of a lot.)

The arrangements are melancholy to the point of almost being...soulful. And for some nerdy white boys from Baltimore, that’s saying something.

A-

Car Seat Headrest: Teens of Style (2015)

After being completely bowled over by last year’s Teens of Denial, I felt I owed it to frontman Will Toledo to try out his band’s first record.

And while it’s not quite as stunning as TOD, it is, in fits and starts, brilliant. If anything it’s even more melodic. If only he wasn't yelling from inside an airplane hangar... TOD is clearer, more varied and more consistent. The excesses here have to do with the lo-fi sound. It does lend itself to the overall effect. It's just not a long-range career option, but he knew that.

And it does mean he’s going for broke every time.

Another one dipping into the 1960s pool, but going Yo La Tengo one better, because instead of it sounding like fond memories of someone else's music, this is Car Seat Headrest all the way, and a lot of it is indelible.

And to prove it, here is my current nomination for best song of my year:

A-







New Pornographers: Whiteout Conditions (2017)

Here's another shot at current year music. And it pays off big-time.

I have the NP's first album which is like a kitchen sink rush of sounds and ideas - both weird and exhilarating. It worked great almost all the time, but you would only put it on for special occasions.

Here they damp down the weirdness a bit (ah, that theme again!), and single-mindedly focus on pleasure. The songs are tuneful, the singing is excellent (what do you want when you’ve got Neko Case?) and the playing - especially the drumming - is tight as hell.

So much fun you’ll feel guilty.

Given all the praise I’ve dumped upon a number of other albums this year, it might seem strange that this one gets the only straight “A” so far. It’s a combination of factors. One being consistency - all the songs are really good. Another is that this one is in my favorite genre - melodic pop-rock. Then they’re Neko Case’s voice which is lovely, even if it never quite hits the highs of Fox Confessor. And every time I make out the lyrics above the insistent drumming and ever energetic band, I hear jokes, wordplay and general cleverness, which is something I treasure.

Or maybe it's because I just got back from Canada. Ay!

A 



Let's talk about this autumn sometime next year!

Blackstar 61: Paradoxically

Oh, blogging gods! How can I make this post any different from my last one? There are just too many similarities!

Both posts pertain to music that:

1. I wasn’t looking for in the first place.
2. Is performed by an artist from whom I’ve already gotten a ton of stuff.
3. Is mostly made up of songs I already have . 
4. … Is, all right, different renditions of those songs. 
5. Is Jazz, and since it’s summertime, jazz shouldn’t be a priority for me now.
6. Is on f*cking amazon.com for $3.99!

And in this case it’s not a single album either, but rather a two-in-one set: one that float by so effortlessly all of the above caveats melt away, and make me dream of putting all of this artist's songs - sometimes six and seven versions of each - into a single playlist, and then sort it alphabetically, so I can hear all six versions one after the other.

I'll have to warn Mrs. Jaybee ahead of time. Even she - has her limits.



Thelonious Monk: 2 Classic Albums

Jazz can be a very tricky and daunting genre to get into. For every masterpiece, there are two or three awkwardly (or cynically) slapped-together compilations to bore or puzzle you. So any album - especially a two-fer - in the $3.99 bin should be viewed upon with suspicion.

Now, I’ve done very well by Monk. There isn’t a single album of his I haven’t liked. But even I had a hard time believing I could get two really good albums for such a low price.

But sometimes, pure, dumb luck wins out. It’s what makes me think the universe errs slightly on the benign side, despite all evidence to the contrary.

So, how did we do? Well, given the stature of the artist in question, I’m going to tackle each album separately.



The Thelonious Monk Orchestra: At Town Hall

I had my doubts about an “orchestra” (actually, in this case, a “tentet”) doing Monk tunes, even with Monk in the band. I’m not a big fan of the bit of Charlie Parker with Strings I know.

But this works great. Familiar tunes are given a sympathetic, but not reverential, treatment. The other nine guys can’t manage to overwhelm Monk - they’re too busy keeping up and flat out admiring him.

A-






Thelonious Monk: In Action

If you’ve never heard Monk before, you may want to start with this one. At least theoretically, fewer musicians should distract you less from the utter weirdness of the tunes.

But here’s the paradox: In my two-fer version, this one starts right up after Town Hall finishes, and you’d think there’d be a drastic change in tone going from ten to four musicians, but no. Monk’s tunes are either impervious, or just plain adaptive-in-the-extreme, to any such trivial matters such as there being four or ten musicians.

Another paradox (and by the way, paradoxes seem to be built into every song): Occasionally, a single musician does make a huge difference. This record comes from the same shows that gave us Misterioso (my favorite Monk album).  And the reason that record is so great is tenor saxophonist Johnny F*cking Griffin, whose contributions here are just as magical as those on Misterioso. (Why wasn’t that guy more famous?)

Anyway, my mere pop/rock brain won’t generate the words to adequately describe this music. Suffice to say, if you’re unfamiliar with Monk, (but are possessed of a pop/rock brain like me) your first reaction will likely be puzzlement.

But, ah, that’s the final paradox! Because his tunes are so strange, they aren’t boxed in by the “sophistication” that keeps a lot of jazz out of reach for you and me. Their very strangeness makes them memorable. And then they reveal their beauty.

A-

Blackstars 6 through 60!, or Christmas in July

I usually reserve summer time for “fun” music, so classical and jazz just have to wait until fall or winter, which would be especially appropriate here, since the concert takes place on Christmas Day.

But when I saw this record on amazon.com for $3.99 I jumped.

Charlie Parker and the Stars of Modern Jazz: The Complete 1949 Carnegie Hall Concert

I could very reasonably ask myself if I needed yet another version of “Hot House”, “Ornithology”, “Ko Ko” or “Move”? Is it worth it?

But the answer of any jazz fan is - what, are you kidding me? Hell yeah!

So worth it, in fact, that when I accidentally deleted it from my account, I immediately bought it right back. (Am I really bragging that I spent an extra $3.99?)

So we get a nice chunk of Charlie Parker to start. Add to that vocals by Sarah Vaughn, Bud Powell on piano, Miles Davis on trumpet. Max Roach on drums! Plus Lenny Tristano, Sonny Stitt, Stan Getz... I could go on.

I hate to sound like an old geezer, but I just don't think they do concerts like this anymore.

This is bebop, which I’ll roughly equate to punk rock, except it actually required musicianship. Fast, intricate and exhilarating. Just strap in!

Bud Powell starts things off with a bang, outdoing his own The Amazing Bud Powell, and it goes from there.

There isn’t that much more to say about it, really, other than you catch a number of artists in their prime, Parker and Powell, especially. Davis had a few years to go before becoming God, but no matter. This album may have the best lineup of talent of any record I own.

My only reservation is that since it’s a live album from 1949 the sound isn’t great. But on the other hand, the sounds are magnificent!

A-

Pushing It: Jon Hopkins' Immunity

I was in a weird mood last month when I decided, out of the blue, that I’d take up Nutboy on another one of his recommendations. Back in 2011 he gave me two (really ten, but these two stood out), only one of which I tried at the time: the quirky but beautiful The Wild Hunt by The Tallest Man on Earth, which ended up being one of my favorites for that year.

You think I’d just dive into his next recommendation,  wouldn’t you? But nooooooo! Ever the pessimist, I argued to myself that one happy result is good, but trying for two is pushing things. So I did nothing.

So, earlier this year, I finally decided - why? I don't know - to give Diamond Mine by King Creosote and Jon Hopkins a shot, and, of course, it’s wonderful.

But here’s where it got weird.  I didn’t even wait to find out if it was wonderful before I decided I’d also get a solo album by Jon Hopkins! It was a pretty well-regarded record and all, but there are a lot of those, so why take the chance? Perhaps it was an act of penance for not going right to Diamond Mine when Nutboy first recommended it.

So two may be pushing it, but sometimes what you need to do is push.




Jon Hopkins: Immunity (2013)


It turns out that Jon Hopkins on his own is markedly different from what he and King Creosote do together. Or so it seems.

It’s hard to hear on first listen how this and Diamond Mine have the same person on it, in whatever capacity. So I went back to Diamond Mine and began to notice how - although the King’s gentle vocals are out front - what’s holding them up isn’t the expected acoustic guitar or piano, but rather the unexpected synthesizer or found sounds of Jon.

So while Immunity starts out sounding like generic dance/electronica, it gradually grows a soul. And that’s the key to this music. Either it should - below the cold brooding surface - have some humanity, or come up with a damn good argument for not having it. (Aphex Twin, for instance, although I'm not sure I'm convinced.)

On this record that humanity is revealed both over the course of each individual track and the album as a whole.

It’s a very worthwhile journey, and one of my favorites of the year. It also works like a charm when you go out for a run, or when you’re trying to do some thinking.

And at the end - surprise! - King Creosote joins Jon for the beautiful send-off. But it would be understandable if you barely noticed him. Like Jon Hopkins on Diamond Mine, he’s in the background.

But he adds the crucial detail - a human voice.

A-

Blackstar 5: Going Deep and Wide

What I most admire about hip hop are the lyrics, which when good, are sharp, tight, imaginative and, when needed, funny as hell. And the sound effects can be very cool, too. But what can be forbidding is the music itself, which is so rhythmically oriented.

For me, rhythm was never an essential musical element. Oh, I loved things that moved but I’m  a melody guy (thank you, Beatles) and a guitar guy (ditto).

So it was hard to love something that was light on those two elements and heavy on rhythm. Which put hip hop at a disadvantage with me.

But I’m coming around...

My knowledge of the Roots is limited to their impressive appearance in Dave Chappelle’s Block Party and Jimmy Fallon’s show, which I rarely watch. But when I do, there they are, playing with - and adding to - whatever musical guest Jimmy throws at them, like Car Seat Headrest, for instance.

Allmusic.com files them under “Rap”, and, realizing my limits in appreciating that genre, I held back.
But when Amazon offered this for $5, what am I supposed to say?  Jaybee, you’ve been having your fun so far this year. How about a little education? So fine, I said. (I talk to myself a lot.)

And the Roots give me a way in.

Roots: How I Got Over (2010)

The first surprise is how damned catchy this is. The arrangements are tight (in the good sense).  And Questlove, if you didn’t already know, is a great drummer. When he hits the snare. He. Hits. The. Snare!

Which brings me to something else that seems to help. The Roots are a band. Instead of using turntables, they play instruments. Imagine that. It really shouldn’t matter, but it seems to anyway.

And, okay, I’m not hearing many melodies, but the textures (keyboards, and yes, guitars) keep me listening.

Which gets me to the words. And while some speak of defiance, there’s also plenty of doubt, and a desire to do better. It's Aspiration, in the very best sense of the word.

One highlight is “Oh, God 2.0”, which improves upon the Monsters of Folk version.

Another is the totally unexpected inclusion of a Joanna Newsom sample, changing its nature while at the same time adding to the song at hand.

And best of all, the title track with its heartrending lyrics:

Out on the streets
where I grew up,
First thing they teach you 
is not to give a f*ck,
That kind of thinking 
will get you nowhere,
Someone
Has To
Care

These, along with several others are the best I’ve heard all year.

So, while Kanye is a brilliant music maker, it’s always about him, and where Kendrick Lamar goes so, so deep, the music isn’t always what I need.

But the Roots - providing nuance, brains, and themes of internal and external struggle - give me hip hop I can really hear and love.

It may be my favorite of the genre.

A-

“How I Got Over”

Short, Sharp Shocks, or Smaller is Better:

As you might recall (no, you don’t. Who’s kidding who? Only I’d recall something like this.) vinyl albums held about forty minutes worth of music. You could fit up to an hour or so, but forty was the average.

So my natural skinflintedness meant that, if for no other reason (other than not having to get up off my ass every 20 minutes to flip it over), I’d love the CD format (about 80 minutes of music per), even if they cost a bit more than vinyl.

Ah, but what if the music is there just to fill up the space? Whereas before artists had to pick and choose only the best of their new songs to fit on vinyl, now they could spread out like those guys sitting on the subway train, with results that could be just as uncomfortable.

So I eventually came to “appreciate” (ie, respect and even enjoy, while still writing to my congressperson about instituting unit pricing on albums) the "short album".

Early rock n’ roll albums were pretty short, mainly because the songs were short. Even twelve of them wouldn’t always hit thirty - let alone forty - minutes.

Songs are just longer now.

Now, if I were to fully embrace my inner (and soon to be outer) grumpy old man and combine it with my natural nerdiness...well, for one thing, I’d end up with one hell of a super-villain.

But I’d also endlessly debate the merits of musical unit-pricing based on songs per dollar vs. minutes per dollar.  I can just see the entire Marvel and DC Universe surrendering to me, on the one condition that I just shut the f*ck up. Now that’s winning, baby!

Anyway, last year’s Puberty 2 by Mitski was pretty short (about 31 minutes) but didn’t feel that way. Not sure if that’s a compliment, but it’s probably because there are eleven songs on it

And this year, I came across a few records that come up short timewise, but not aesthetics-wise.


Cloudburst:


The Cloud Nothings: Attack on Memory (2012)

Although it only has eight songs that run 33 minutes it feels complete, and even generous. Now that’s intensity!

This foursome plays aggressive-to-harsh electric guitars a la Parquet Courts but change tone often enough - and add melody enough - to keep it all from beating you down.

There’s even a burst of Feelies drone-guitar in the cheerier-than-average “Fall In”.

The mid 20s singer complains a lot, but his gravelly voice sounds old and vaguely threatening, verging on ugly. And when things get out of hand, they careen out of control and crash.

But they pull themselves out of the ditch and start up again, with guitars propelling them along the way.

A-

"Fall In"



The Harsh Mirror:


Death Cab for Cutie: The Open Door EP (2009)

Damn, I lost focus again and forgot to keep it in the decade!

I have a hard time even saying their name, both for silliness and sheer mechanics. (You try saying it fast.)

And, admittedly it's an EP, not an album. But, like with the Germans bombing Pearl Harbor, just let it go.

I had already gotten a taste of Ben Gibbard’s songwriting from Postal Service. And like on that album, his melodies can seem a bit mechanical, as if he plotted them out on graph paper.

What works for it, though - like the atmospherics of Give Up - is the sturdy rocking band behind him.
So the outcome is a little more organic.

And the lyrics are filled with painful self-examination. Not the physical kind.  That comes later in life, boys!

A-

"My Mirror Speaks"




Sweet (and Weird) and Lovely:

King Creosote and Jon Hopkins: Diamond Mine (2014)

 I’ve only had this for about a week, so I should really wait to digest it, but I just don’t want to.

Nutboy recommended this to me a while ago, but I immediately lost his email.  Well, I finally dug it up, and I'm glad I did.

Sweet, quiet, with odd and everyday sounds mixed in. King Creosote provides the former, with a voice so fragile you think it’s going to shatter. Jon Hopkins, who I will talk about in another post, provides the latter, and helps to keep this from going down too easy. Together, they make a Scottish Neil Young.

But you’d better play it early, before the neighborhood noises start to drown it out. Yes, it's that fragile.

But well worth it.

A-

"Your Own Spell"

World History Project: Costco Opera House, Part One

As is usual, I’m lying before I even get past the title (run for president, should I?), because it was probably BJs. And come to think of it, “Opera and BJs” makes for a more interesting title. It certainly catches the eye.

Still, it might have been Costco, but I’m remembering being in a big box shopping hell hole with the wife and then child when we came across the CDs and, what the hell, I also saw Morrissey’s Your Arsenal and REMs Automatic for the People, which Sister Mag was just raving about at the time, and well, you can’t beat those prices, can you?

I’ll probably remember it differently next time.

No, it was definitely BJs (maybe), and so even though all of the above probably wasn’t even the same trip, what it was was that I bought a Ten(!) CD set of Opera Highlights for ten bucks. That’s one buck per opera! (Notice that I saved you from doing the math.) So the price was right. It was similar to when I joined the Musical Heritage Society back when I was young and open minded, and got an eight record set of Beethoven’s Nine Symphonies for fifteen bucks. (Always buy your classical music in bulk, I say!)

Actually, I’m suspicious of anything that you can easily purchase in such quantity, but in this case it wouldn’t go bad like that 50 lb. bag of potatoes we thought we would actually cook, or those twin economy boxes of Saran Wrap that I bought when I thought we were running out. (Of course, we weren’t. We were actually running out of tin foil! But that’s another crisis for another post.) Instead, we had a lifetime’s worth of Saran Wrap. And I mean that literally because although it was at least twenty years ago we still haven’t run out.

So I listened to them all ten of them once and then put them away for a very long time. Longer than the potatoes. Every once in awhile they’d come out again, but they never made it to heavy rotation.

But I'm going through the World History Project right now so why not give them a re-listen?

I’m currently stuck in the 1760s, where I’m trying to read, among other things, the Chernow biographies of Washington and Hamilton, and Pynchon’s Mason and Dixon, so I’ll be there for a while. I may never get to Costco again...

Which brings me to:


 
Christoph Willibald Gluck: Orfeo ed Euridice (1762)

Not the whole thing, mind you, but good hour’s worth. Remember, it’s Highlights.

So I’ve listened to this dozens of times while I wait to get to to the Revolutionary War.

And it’s pretty good! A nice ratio of singing and playing. And the singing isn’t too melodramatic. In other words, not every operatic, which suits me just fine.

You don’t get that feeling that you’re watching it on PBS on a boring Sunday afternoon, waiting for something to happen, and then when it does happen, you wished it would stop.

I put it on before reading in bed (hence the dozens of times), and still wouldn’t be positive I’d recognize it in any other context.

But it doesn’t cause me to scream and go running for another viewing of Black Orpheus.

So, overall, you could do a lot worse than this one, and I swear if they ever do it at the Met again, I'll go.

But in the meantime, I'll see you Costco. I’ll be the angry one.

B+

“Overture”

Blackstar 4: Five Hundred Miles(es)

Remember how I said it’s sad to go through the amazon.com $3.99 mp3 pages? Well, it’s not always Sad sad. It’s just you spend a lot of time (400 pages worth) going through what looks to be pretty awful stuff before you stumble upon a gem. And you (and I) may not have that kind of time. Let’s agree to not do it when it’s sunny out, okay?

So, one dark and stormy night I found myself there and what do I do? I let myself get further distracted from the current decade, and, like someone who stumbled into The Time Tunnel, find myself back in 1969.




Panthalassa: The Music of Miles Davis 1969-1974

Miles Davis was the Kanye West of his time. A genius, and egotist, who delighted in outraging white people, at a time when that was even more dangerous to do than it is now. Actually, Kanye seems a little nicer.

But there are many Mileses (Miless? Miles's?). There’s post-World War II trumpeter with Charlie Parker, who, frankly, had a hard time keeping up. The band leader for Birth of the Cool. The heroin addict who cleaned himself up before going onto his truly great achievements, like Kind of Blue (my favorite, but so what? That’s everybody’s favorite.) Oh, and he managed to fit in being the leader of at least two of the all-time great jazz small combos.

But as time went on, he was getting a little tired of toiling in relative obscurity - critical acclaim doesn’t pay the bills you see - and seeing rock n roll stars hitting it big, he began to change his music yet again.

First, there was In A Silent Way, which is a perfectly lovely and accessible, if not overpowering, mood record. And to a lot of jazz fans, maybe not jazz at all.

But if they thought that wasn’t jazz, they were in for greater outrage, because he then moved on to Bitch’s Brew, the highly-regarded - and highly controversial - jazz fusion classic.

My favorite from that period is Jack Johnson, which came right after Bitches. It has all of Bitch's thrills in half the time.

And he’d go on throughout the seventies in a genre that was kind of forbidding to me. He was always quite prolific, and he didn’t slow down until 1977, putting out album after album, many of the doubles.  I didn’t even start on Miles until 1980, so there was no way I’d be able to find my way through his catalog. Miles is one of those artists for whom you really need a guide.

But this record is a remix/re-edit of pieces from that era, and frankly, I can’t tell the difference between it and the originals. But it is a tight, condensed version of those sprawling records.

So this is a great starting point. If you like it, then move onto Silent and then maybe Johnson. And then, if you’re feeling dangerous, dive into this era with the original records. Of course, if this era isn’t your bag, then Kind of Blue is the way to go.

But it you decide to come here, and you’re willing to sit back and let it all unfold, you won’t be disappointed.

A-

Blackstar 3: Wonder of the World

Damn you, amazon! You helped me focus me on my goal of catching up with the best music from the current decade with $5 mp3s by Kanye and Kendrick, only to pull me all the way back to the sixties.



Taj Mahal: The Best of… (2000)

But it does lead right back up to the present day since Taj is still out there playing shows.

An artist like Taj Mahal falls somewhere in between blues legends that you’d normally check out first if you wanted to explore that genre, and all the artists you already like in your favorite genre.  In other words, if you don’t know about him already, it might take some time before you check him out.

After all, the last thing I want is to get stuck in a banal genre exercise, especially from several decades ago. But I’m just making excuses because that’s what I did.

Anyway, amazon came to the rescue and gave me a cheap and efficient way of digging in. And I’m glad I did.

He starts out playing songs originally sung in the cotton fields, which might explain why I enjoyed it so much while planting the bulbs in my front yard! (Because those things are practically the same, right?)

So after I pulled my head out of my ass in that regard, I noted that this is where you will find the arrangement of “Statesboro Blues” that the Allmans used on Fillmore East. I love the Brothers but this is nearly a direct lift.

And “Leaving Trunk” has the guitar riff later used on “American Woman”.

If like me, you first heard “Take a Giant Step” done by the Monkees, you might not even recognize it here. His version came afterward, but he makes it all his own.

So in short order, he shot past the blues, and dipped into pop on his way to country and reggae, where he does a rocking “Six Days on the Road”, and a mournful “Johnny Too Bad”. And he keeps going from there.

The theme that runs consistently throughout this best-of is how Taj puts his personal stamp on songs both old and new.

So my fears of that banal genre exercise were completely unfounded, as we go from one wonderful song to another.

If you’re still not convinced, check out his funky “Oh, Susannah”, which says it all.

A- 

Blackstar 2: Kendrick Lamar Doesn’t Care If I Like It Or Not

So I guess I was lying about dinner with Kanye, but facts don’t matter anymore, so sue me.

It’s usually after dinner when the amazon $5 mp3s strike. They say don’t go food shopping while you’re hungry. I shouldn’t go music shopping when I’m full. It gives me too much endurance. Like Superman, I could climb tall record-store racks in a single bound. So paging through a few dozen pages worth of amazon mp3s is a snap. (But my advice is to stick to the $5 ones, the $3.99 ones - 400 pages worth - are a little sad, even for me.)

But it does give me more opportunities to catch up on this decade. It’s where I found an artist whose record will definitely show up on a lot of Best of the Decade lists.

And he’s already released a couple of new ones! So here I am, as usual, one record behind.



Kendrick Lamar: To Pimp a Butterfly (2015)

“Be honest. Do you really enjoy that album?” Mrs. Jaybee asked me today

It’s a fair question. Hip-hop isn’t a genre I’d ordinarily gravitate to. Plus, she must have found it funny to watch a sixty-year-old white guy listening to this.

So we both went through the album, rating each song from ick/meh/pretty good/great. And I showed her that my overall answer to her question was a guarded, but definite, Yes.

Not that Kendrick Lamar is losing any sleep over this. He’s got more important things on his mind.

But I’ll do my best to say why, with some half-assed observations based on my limited knowledge. I’ll use Kanye (as a crutch) for comparison purposes.

Like Kanye, when he bothers to meet me halfway, I enjoy it the most. I could swear he’s sampling Steely Dan’s “Deacon Blues” on “These Walls”, but can’t prove it. (It’s really “Hit the Quan” by Iheartmemphis.)

And my oh my, what a cool piano on “What a Dollar Cost”!

And where Kanye’s always talking about himself, Kendrick, in talking about himself, is really talking about an entire community. So while any of us can have a good laugh over Kanye bragging or feuding with someone, For Kendrick, the stakes are just too high.

And while I enjoy the parts less where he doesn’t meet me halfway, there’s no doubt that it’s my problem. The samples he uses are almost uniformly unknown to me, which puts into greater relief how African American culture is doing just fine without me, f*ck you very much.

And as difficult and painful as the story is, by the time you get to “i” (sampling the Isley’s “Who’s that Lady?”) the joy is real and well-earned.

So while Kendrick isn’t as funny as Kanye he’s also less of an egomaniac.

And where Kanye uses rock n' roll on Fantasy as an obvious crossover move, Lamar gracefully deploys jazz because he likes it.

Kanye’s first album ends with a 12-minute monolog about getting a record deal, this one ends with a 12-minute meditation on what it means to be an African-American man in America. (Kanye tries to do this on Fantasy, but could only come up with a dated and sexist Gil Scott-Heron poem.

So I give the edge to Kanye on sheer entertainment value, Kendrick gives me much more to think about.

I don’t get all of this, by any means, but that’s on me.

B+

Blackstar 1: My Dinner with Kanye

The end of the decade (and the planet) is looming, so what can be more important than making sure my “Best Albums of the Decade” (assuming we make it that far) list is respectable?  And how can I do that if I continue to avoid what a lot of people think is the decade’s best music?

I became a little gunshy regarding hip-hop. Being a melody and electric guitar guy, I could only seem to enjoy it up to a point. And I want to love music, not merely like or admire it.

But there are just too many artists I’ve bypassed for that reason - Kendrick Lamar, Chance the Rapper, Kanye West, the Roots, A Tribe Called Quest, Danny Brown. And as a self-respecting music fan, I must do my due diligence.

And Kanye scores!




Kanye West: My Dark Beautiful Twisted Fantasy (2010)

We all have a Kanye story.

We all have (at least) one occasion when - like President Obama - we deemed Kanye a jackass.

It’s like when they ask you "Where were you when Kennedy was killed?", or for the younger folk, when 9/11 happened. Now it’s "Where were you when Kanye said I’ma let you finish…?"

My last one was when he posed for pictures with Trump. Kanye, you may have thought that he was a fellow misunderstood genius, but he's not, and you mean nothing to him. You were used. I didn’t think you were that dumb.

Another one was when he married a for-profit attention whore whose name I refuse to further sully the internet with.

And then there was the time he trashed the Grammys for awarding Best Album to Beck (Morning Phase was my favorite that year) instead of Beyonce (or was it him? I don’t really care.)


Digression 1: My Purge of the Grammys

Now I’m always amazed when the Grammys like an album I like. (The time before that was The Suburbs by Arcade Fire) This is due as much to sheer demographics as taste. Now, I’m just too old to matter to the music industry. I was always too weird.

Throughout the sixties and seventies, I remember watching the Grammy's with frustration and ultimately disdain as they gave awards to unworthy musicians. (“Mrs. Robinson” over “Hey Jude” for Best Record? Please.) Sound familiar?


Digression 2: My Barbecue with Sara

A few years ago, we had the in-laws over for a barbecue. I was in the backyard cooking and listening to The Who Sell Out, (my all time favorite record) when my niece Sara - then a teenager - came out back.

Now, I should mention that I used to believe in the principle of Great Music Will Be Loved By Everyone Who Hears It.

Anyway, Sara says “Uncle John, what’s with the corny music?”

Another illusion shattered.

But I reassembled it somewhat, and it now reads Great Music Has the Potential To Be Recognized By Anyone Who Hears It. And I still believe this. Otherwise, I wouldn’t buy the records I do.

But I should have realized she'd react that way. Hell, I don't even think I liked the album the first time I heard it. Why should she?

But even given the chance, I still think she'd conclude it was corny because she just doesn't care as much about melody and electric guitars.

And although I haven't heard it, I suspect Beyonce's album is more to her liking and that she'd think Beck was corny, too. So, why shouldn’t Kanye? (Remember Kanye? It’s a post about Kanye.)


Dinner Time:

Which is why I can't get too annoyed with him. He cares, he's passionate. For all I know, he’s secretly in love with Beyonce. He sure loves himself. And now, after all these years, I can see how healthy that must be.

And judging from this record, he makes pretty great music too.

Up until now, I wasn’t sure. I liked his first record, but not the 12-minute monolog at the end about how he got a record deal.

This time out, he adds a hard rock texture - guitars (!) and melody (!!) - to a lot of the songs.

Every song has a great vocal, hook, texture or lyric to offer, and there are no dead spots at all. My only complaint is that he mars the otherwise stellar “The Blame Game” with a gross Chris Rock monolog.  But even that’s funny.

And while I still don’t quite love it, I’m really happy I got it. Kanye may have saved hip-hop - and my principle - for me.

So, to this impossible, egotistical, narcissistic self-proclaimed genius, I say, Damn!

A-