Don't Play That Song! Classic Rock Edition

We went to a local “bistro” (you know the kind, interesting sounding food, small portions, no tablecloth, too expensive).  In such a straight neighborhood, it was a relief to find something even slightly funky, though.

The service was friendly, and the atmosphere laid back. We were having a good time until we noticed how disappointing the music was. It wasn’t the awful Easy Listening a la Air Supply, etc., but it was a litany of the most overplayed hits of the seventies. Why, after all this time, are we still hearing this shit?

So I say that it’s time we made a list – the Don’t Play That Song list - and send it to every radio station on earth. Let’s start with Classic Rock, because it's been around so long now that the overplayed songs are especially grievous offenders. (Plus, I don’t know the names of the ones that aren’t Classic Rock.)

And lest you feel I’m picking on some otherwise worthy artists, allow me to explain that overplaying their hits is actually unfair to them. Every time you hear one of these songs you’re missing an equally good other song by that very same artist. Let’s not even get into other artists who deserved some of the limelight but never got it because the radio station was too busy playing... well, any of these songs for the 10,000th time.

Of course, there are some artists who sucked from the get-go and they're overplayed songs are the best they can manage.  They’re like your talkative aunt or strange uncle. We’re stuck with them, but we don’t go out of our way to see them.

The songs below are so well known I won’t even name the bands. And I offer some alternatives by those same artists. I’m NOT saying the alternatives are better (although in some cases they are), nor am I saying that the songs are bad (although some are).

C'mon, if you give this even two minute's thought, you could come up with your own list. Here’s mine:


The Obvious:

“Stairway to Heaven”:
No surprise here, really.  I’ve done such a good job of ignoring this song over the years, that it almost sounds okay again now.  But not quite.
Instead, try this one: “That’s the Way”

“Margaritaville”
I like Jimmy Buffett almost as much as the next drunk, but this well-written song is every sixty-something's excuse to not seek out a thousand other equally good songs.
Almost anything else by Jimmy deserves your attention.

“Free Bird”
This one is just too freaking long, especially the live version, the ending of which is ridiculous. If you’ve just got to request a song at a concert, show some imagination. Make it “Whippin’ Post”.
But if it’s got to be Skynyrd, make it “Whiskey Rock n Roller” or “Tuesday’s Gone”.


Less Obvious, Just as Annoying:

“Listen to the Music”
Please don’t.  It was 1972 and already a long way from the sixties. Ushering in an age of lowered expectations four years before Jimmy Carter. Not bad. Just a grim reminder of how uninteresting things can get.
“Without You” rocks a lot more, even if they were still waiting for a good singer to show up.

“Summer Breeze”
This one is so overplayed it literally hurts when it comes on. I still like the bridge, but the verse, chorus and guitar-riff take up too much collective space in our brains. Anyone who voluntarily plays it should be flogged.
“Ridin Thumb” is a weird little alternative.

By the way, these last two songs were played back to back at an otherwise wonderful seafood place in the Village recently.  (Yes, all my traumatic musical episodes occur while eating out.) Yet more crap followed so I came to suspect they were being ironic. We visited their sister restaurant a few years ago, where they had a knockout playlist of 60s music. What the hell happened?!

“Heart of Gold”
Et tu, Neil? How about “New Mama” from Harvest’s polar opposite Tonight’s the Night.

“I Wanna Be Sedated”
Yeah, it’s great, but as their commercial break through it allowed normal people to feel cool by liking them. There are dozens of other equally brilliant Ramones songs, and I can guarantee you won’t hear them at a wedding, like “Cretin Hop”. But just about anything from the first four albums would do.
But this relatively anti-social "Beat on the Brat" will do. (Don't worry, I played it around the kids and they turned out fine. Sort of.)

“Sultans of Swing”
Really? Again?
“Water of Love”

“You Better You Bet”
Come on.  This song kind of sucks. You know it. I know it.  The only reason we even know this song exists is because the Who did it.  It would never pass the If Someone Unknown Did It test.
Try just about anything before Tommy, Like “Relax”, from The Who Sell Out, which is, by the way, the greatest album of all time.  (Yeah, I said it.)

“Against the Wind”
Also, “Like a Rock”, or anything involving nature. Bob's a city boy, so let's go with his best song ever.
“Main Street”

“Refugee”
It sounded good the first time I heard it, okay the next second time. But that was it. The next 10,000 times occurred in the 80s, and it epitomizes all that’s wrong with Tom Petty.  He thinks he’s better than he is. He invests a lot of feeling in a pretty unoriginal song.
Go with most of “Full Moon Fever” or my favorite, “Shadow of a Doubt (Complex Kid)”

“Tempted”
Not anymore.
Try “Up the Junction”, which will rip your heart out.

“Tainted Love”
I'm breaking my rule here. This song sucked from the get-go, and the idea that anyone could extract any joy from it is beyond my comprehension. This is what they mean when they say that white guys have no rhythm. And I oughtta know.
The original - sung by a female - has more balls.


Repeat Offenders:

Billy Joel:
BJ manages a Trifecta here:
“Piano Man” - I can still get through it with the help of the words, but JESUS.
“It’s Still Rock and Roll To Me” - Pure BS (again, I ought to know) from someone who didn’t get punk/new wave.  He should stick to pop, which he’s actually good at.
“You May Be Right” – This one makes me sick.  I hate self-described “crazy” people. If you think you are, you’re not.  You're boring.
I could go on about “Just the Way You Are”, “Big Shot”, “Movin’ Out”. It just goes on and on.
Instead, try "Summer, Highland Falls", "And So It Goes", “James”, “I’ve Loved These Days” or this great one from Streetlife Serenade.

The Eagles:
Really, the entire Eagles oeuvre is pretty tired, except for some overlooked gems on the first three albums.  But the dead horses are:
“Take It Easy” - Good at the time, but I just can’t take it anymore.  I feel like I’m listening to the skeleton of a song.
“Lyin Eyes” - Basta!
“Life In the Fast Lane” - The only difference between Fast Laners and Low Lifes is money.
“Hotel California” I can admit now, after all these years, that this is not a bad song, but it isn’t nearly as good as it thinks it is.
I much prefer "Nightingale", "Tryin'" and "Bitter Creek".

Evil Jaybee says that any DJ who consciously puts on one of these songs really should be shot. The kinder, gentler Jaybee just wishes they’d find another line of work.

In looking at the above it’s amazing that there are no Beatles songs on it. I was about to say there are no Stones songs either, but I just thought of a few:
“Angie”
“Start Me Up”
“It’s Only Rock n Roll”
Which just goes to show it can happen to the almost best.

Instead, try anything before Beggar’s Banquet, like all of Aftermath. But there's also “Moonlight Mile”, “Lovin’ Cup”, “You’ve Got the Silver”, "Before They Make Me Run", and what may be the greatest rock and roll song ever “Soul Survivor”.

So my advice Mr. DJ - if you still exist (probably not, so okay Mr. Radio Programmer) is that every time you want to play one of the above songs, take the fucking hint, okay?

Overrated

NOTE: This post is co-written by Good Jaybee and Evil Jaybee. Most of the work was done by Good Jaybee (because Evil Jaybee is, well, evil) but we’ll call it out when EJ has something to say.

I recently threw a stink bomb into a discussion taking place on an Americana music site.

Members were asked which artists they thought were the most overrated. I just came to listen since I couldn’t think of anyone.

Some of the comments were of the kids these days variety. I'd had enough of that when I was an actual kid, but didn’t rise to the bait this time.

And of course there were the conformist-as-hell-but-don’t-know-it nonconformists who trashed the Beatles. For the most part, though, ire was directed at well, Americana artists, as was apt.

But then a few commenters put some pop/dance/rap artists on their lists. Now I’m a dilettante at best regarding those genres. I hate some, I like some. So I wasn’t exactly defending them when I jumped into it.

My point was if you don’t like a genre, how can you say an artist of that genre is overrated? It’s like someone who hates hearing fat ladies sing saying that opera is overrated. Maybe his opinion just doesn’t matter. Doesn’t he know this? Why is he even talking? The fat lady fans just don’t care.

I got a good mix of responses - none of them threatening actual physical harm. And the dialog eventually got to the I like what I like and you like what you like phase, which leads me to wonder what the point of the exercise was.

I always wondered how someone could dismiss an entire musical genre, anyway. Don’t you have to be familiar with something to form an opinion about it? I’d try to picture the person dutifully listening to a whole stack of albums in order to develop an informed opinion just for this occasion. And at the end of all that effort (and money spent), they would pronounce the genre “Sucky”. Really? Isn’t life too short for all that? Unless you’re a critic and you’re paid to do that.

I’ve since learned that most people don’t go to such lengths. They hear what they hear and then they give their opinion about it. And I guess if you hear a few songs and don’t like any of them, chances are you’re not going to like the next one, either.

Isn’t that enough to just leave it all be? Do you really need to make pronouncements about it? As if those who are enjoying it are wrong? (Evil Jaybee here. I will make exceptions for artists like Journey or Rush, who, if you like them, you're definitely wrong.)

So I got to thinking about what overrated really means. When we use the term, we’re essentially saying that we like something less than other people. Not much of a statement.

The logic of it goes something like this:
You like ______ a lot.
I don’t like _______ as much as you.
Therefore, you have rated ______ too highly.
Thus, you are incorrect.
Stop liking _______.

When put into a more global context, it’s more like this:
The whole world really like ________.
I think _________ is okay,
So the whole world has overrated them.
Thus, the whole world is incorrect.
World, stop liking ______.

This all sounds ridiculous to me, but it’s a bit more entertaining than "To each his own".

It comes back to the question of inherent quality. I once heard Mortimer J. Adler talking to Bill Moyers and rating Shakespeare over the poetry of James Dickey. Bill Moyers preferred the latter. Adler said that Moyers saw a quality in Dickey, as Adler saw in Shakespeare, but added that there was an inherent quality in Shakespeare that made him greater than James Dickey.

Funny how the guy who prefers Shakespeare also finds a greater inherent quality in him. What a coincidence. File that under No Shit, Mortimer.

On the other side of the coin, there are very few people who, when asked to choose between the Beatles and Herman’s Hermits, would pick the latter.  But are they wrong if they do?
(EJ: Hell Yes!) 

But once you get inside their heads you realize they're not. They like HH goddammit! And who am I to say that they’re f*cking stupid morons with no taste?  (Oops, that was EJ again.)

A guy at work who once told me - with a straight face - that he preferred Wings to the Beatles. While I shook my head in disgust, another person there agreed with him. Now you expect to encounter such idiocy on the job but these were people I respected! They were older than me and thus preferred the more poppish/commercial Wings to the slightly rockier Beatles.

And the sales figures at the time may have backed them up on this. I’m actually afraid of finding out. (EJ: I'm not. I just checked a couple of sites and it looks like the Beatles are doing better.) 

Thank God. But was it a matter of time?  Were the quality/marathon Beatles inevitably going to beat out the hit-of-the-moment/sprinter Wings? I’d like to think so, but Cats has still grossed more than Gypsy on Broadway.

(EJ) Let’s stop right here. I will (and sometimes do) shout to the rooftops that the Wings people are WRONG about this. That there is an inherent quality (yeah, I said it) in Beatles music that is lacking in Wings. And those Wings fans make Hermans Hermits fans seem like Rhodes scholars.   

Good Jaybee here. A seemingly obvious difference in quality - Beatles vs. Herman’s Hermits -  may only be so because the Beatles are more famous than HH. In other words, perhaps it’s just the majority saying what they like and drowning out the HH fans.

I don’t have any Hermans Hermits albums. so for all I know they’re masterpieces. (EJ: Ah, but life’s too short to find out, right GJ?)

Uh, yeah. But for the hell of it, I checked the allmusic.com essay, and well, don’t you know that the author thinks their second album is just great?

Which brings me to Willie Nelson.

Or rather, that Americana site.

I somehow got pulled into an argument about Willie, or was it just an offshoot of the original Overrated Debate? Anyway, I was trying to play nice and pushed the to each his own line.

One guy was cool with that, since he was being attacked for liking some of Willie’s later albums. The other guy hated anything by Willie after 1985 or so.

We got to the you like what you like... phase (or, as the anti-Willie guy said, the you’re blind phase). (EJ: Didn’t he mean deaf?)

So to break the tension I decided to ask them both for their suggestions on good Willie Nelson albums. And guess who gave me suggestions? Not the Anti Late Willie guy, of course. You’d think that with all the effort he put into trashing stuff, he'd happily direct me to the "good". But no. He must have gotten bored.

So what’s the point of a negative opinion?  I mean, it’s fine to have one. I have plenty.

Like this one. These guys are overrated:
Led Zeppelin
U2
The Police

Discuss!

And while you’re doing that, here’s one of the greatest songs of the sixties by the just-about-correctly-rated Hermans Hermits.
(EJ: Just try to think of a song by Wings you’d say was one of the greatest of the seventies. Good luck with that!)

The 16, 19, or Maybe Even My, 70s:

I’ve heard it said that your long term musical interests get imprinted on your brain when you’re around fifteen years old.  So whatever you were listening to at that time, is the type of music you’re listening to now.

For me, that would be 1972. And it works, to a certain extent.  I did become a huge Allman Brothers fan around then, with the Dead following close behind.

But I always thought my real musical imprinting came in 1979, when I was 22. It was the year punk broke (my eardrums, anyway). There was an avalanche of records that not only sounded great, but that put me on a decades-long path of exploration that is only now dying down (or branching off even further, depending on how you’re looking at it.)

But now I’m not so sure. As I find myself less and less moved by current music, I’ve been reaching back to albums from the early seventies for a boost.

In the past few months I’ve been enjoying records by Roxy Music circa 73-74 and the Kinks from 1971.

And now I’m reaching back another (three hundred) year(s) or so:




Fairport Convention: Liege and Lief (1970)

“Is this all one song?” asks Mrs. Jaybee, who, not being of Celtic origin (what a relief) doesn’t yet fully appreciate the subtle differences in/of these ten tales of tragedy and despair. To be fair it took her this long to get used to the drinking and passive aggressiveness.

“But it’s a good song!” I reply, using an argument once used against me by a fan of Slade back in high school when I was on the other side of the argument. Boy, did it sound dumb at the time. Not much better now.

Okay, I’ll admit that most of these melodies came from somewhere else first. At least half the songwriting credits say “Traditional”, which is a higher batting average than say, oh, Led Zeppelin.

Anyway, FC plays and sings these tunes with gusto. After all, they’ve got Richard Thompson on guitar, a damned good rhythm section, and Sandy Denny on vocals.

So much gusto, in fact, that the originals sound like they could have been written three hundred years ago.

And I’m sure whoever was 15 at that time would have loved them, too.

And I'm willing to bet Mrs. Jaybee comes around, too. She married me, after all. A-

“Come All Ye”

You're Welcome, World!

Having done the world a favor in my last post, my noble (and Nobel) thoughts moved on to another musical genre - this time the blues.

And to my great embarrassment I realized that, until about ten years ago, most of my blues records - or rather most of the individual blues songs I owned were performed by that well known oppressed minority - white guys.

Cream, the Allman Brothers, the Grateful Dead, the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin (whose confusion would occasionally make them forget to credit actual songwriters, but I’m sure that was all an innocent mistake).  Christ, even Steppenwolf!

So my first foray into blues - really a half-step - was Duane Allman’s An Anthology, where actual African Americans played the blues (and soul) but - in a blow against that major problem we all face: Reverse Racism - with the white guy (admittedly that GREAT white guy) on guitar.

Eventually I’d get Robert Cray’s Strong Persuader - a record that some purists don't consider the blues anyway - in 1986,

But it wasn’t until the late nineties when I got the box-set Chess Blues that I got to delve deeper.

I went little deeper still, getting best-ofs by Allman Brothers fave Elmore James and Eric Clapton fave Buddy Guy, having more and more fun as I went.

Then, during my amazon.com boycott I noticed that Barnes and Noble had a decent $5 CD section, where I came across this two-fer:



Howlin’ Wolf: Howlin’ Wolf/Moanin’ in the Moonlight

It would be perfectly understandable to mistake this two-album single-CD set as a Best-of, but it’s not. It’s just the Wolf’s first two records for Chess recorded in 1962.

And they are just incredible.

So incredible I didn’t get kicked out the house for playing it on a beautiful Sunday morning, which is a tribute to Mrs. Jaybee’s tolerance. But then again once you hear Wolf’s voice (and harp and guitar) it might be a good idea to go to church.

How can I convey how important these records are? How about if I list some of the songs here that have been covered by others?

“Shake for Me” - John Hammond, with Duane Allman
“Red Rooster” - The Stones
“Wang Dang Doodle” - KoKo Taylor
“Spoonful” - Cream
“Goin’ Down Slow” - Duane Allman
“Back Door Man” - oh, I don’t know, but somebody
“How Many More Years” - LIttle Feat/Led Zeppelin
“Smokestack Lightnin’” - The Dead
“I Asked for Water (She Gave Me Gasoline)” - Lucinda Williams
“Forty Four” - Little Feat

And that’s just off the top of my head! These are all very good covers but rarely better than the Wolf versions. Which were all from just these two albums. You’d have to go to the Beatles to find an artist who attracted so many cover versions so fast.

Which makes these two records, in my limited and humble opinion, the two best blues albums I own, and are probably  among the greatest ever made.

One caveat: I’m annoyed that they dropped a song to fit these two albums onto a single CD. What was it with those old CDs? Did they only fit 65 minutes? What the hell!?  White people problems.

Another caveat: Dilettante that I am, I’ll move onto another genre by the time I finish typing this.

Otherwise these would be my top two albums of the year.

Howlin Wolf:  A
Moanin’ in the Moonlight: A-

“Moanin’ in the Moonlight”

Well it’s time for me to move on to redress yet more of society’s ills. What to do? What to do? Maybe I’ll try to bring more attention to overlooked artists like Miley Cyrus or Beyonce...

Super Know-Nothings

Well, I’m still cleaning up my 2013 mess. This one from, oh, October, when an innocent trip to the record store (is there any such thing?) yielded a bunch of $3.99 specials, at least one of which keeps showing up on All Time Best Lists (nevermind whose list it is!). I tell you, I could almost feel the gun at my head.

Soundgarden - Superunknown (1994):

There’s something about Chris Cornell that I just don’t like. Guys with those huge singing voices are not to be trusted around your girlfriend. But I think it was when he went solo and cleaned up his look. He used to look like your typical grunge slob, which didn’t threaten my ego. Now he was doing things like bringing in Timbaland to do production and shaving. He clearly wanted a hit and to be a star. Way too professional for me. And what would Kurt say?

But his old band Soundgarden had its moments. And aside from the superficial Zeppelin similarities it only gets ridiculous on “Limo Crash”, where I can almost overhear the conversation in the studio:

Soundgarden Person 1 (probably the guitar player, but really who knows?): Hey I’ve got this cool groovy atmospheric thing going. Listen! (Plays it.)

Soundgarden Person 2 (probably Chris, but really, who can say?): Oh yeah, that sounds cool!  Let me come up with some lyrics to go along with it. Hmm, something indicating a state of confusion. And perhaps being in a daze… (Begins writing.)

Person In Charge: Hey idiots, you’re totally ripping off “Dazed and Confused” (which would be, oh, let's say ironic).  

SGP 1: Oh sh*t, you’re right.  But I like it!

SGP 2: I’ve got it! We’ll change it midway through.

SGP 1: Cool! No one’ll suspect a thing.

And the rest is not quite history.

And yet. And yet  There’s a lot of references to destruction and death here that probably sounded silly before 9/11, but now give me a little chill.

And Chris Cornell? His stupendous vocals mesh quite well with the big guitar and drums. And yes, it's all been done before, but Chris fills his role (and every available space, too) quite well. For a Robert Plant substitute, we could do a lot worse. As a matter of fact, we have done a lot worse.

An actual loud and fast song doesn’t show up until track 11, but that's okay. We like the loud slow ones just fine.

And “Head Down” is just sublime. I had it in my head all day last Friday at work. Couldn’t get a damn thing done. And really, isn’t rock and roll supposed to get people to stop working and f*ck off more?

So I say good job fellas!

A-

“Head Down”

Brenda, or, For a Rocker

I first met Brenda back in 1981.  She was my girlfriend’s roommate and best friend. 

She usually wore denim, but I like to remember her wearing a leather jacket, because she always reminded me of Chrissie Hynde, even though they didn’t really look all that much alike.

But, like Chrissie, Brenda was a rocker.  Not a loud obnoxious poser, mind you.  Just someone who loved rock and roll, a cigarette and a beer.  She was actually quiet and unassuming.  But a rocker, nonetheless.

My friends could never figure her out.  But there was nothing to figure out.  Brenda was there for all to see and know.  She didn’t try to shove it in your face.  I thought she was just great.

Brenda was on the “other side” of the big musical debates of the day – punk vs. metal, Grateful Dead vs. Led Zeppelin, etc.  (Let’s not even touch politics.)  But, man, she could surprise you.  She bought “Purple Rain” before any of us – because she liked what she heard on the radio, and was honest enough to go with that.  I always admired that.

A few years ago, I got "Hank Williams Greatest Hits" as a Christmas present.  When I first put it on,  I braced myself for my wife's reaction.  But she just sang along.  It seems that Brenda would put it on when they were cleaning the apartment together.

Brenda took my poke at Led Zeppelin with good humor, even though I know it kind of pissed her off a little.  She was good like that.  Or she was just used to putting up with my  bullsh*t.

We hung out a lot, drinking, talking.  Then everybody started to get married.  Me and my girlfriend.  Brenda and her boyfriend.  When the kids came along, there would be the baptism or communion parties, but we saw less and less of each other.  And when she and her family moved upstate, and then to Pennsylvania, we’d go years without seeing each other.

One of my favorite memories of her was from September of 2005.  She came into town with her sister Mary (another rocker, and pretty f*cking fearless, I might add) and daughters Kelly - Brenda’s spitting image - and Shannon, one of the sweetest kids I ever met.  Kelly wanted to see the White Stripes, who were playing at a local outdoor venue.  The Shins, who we loved, were the opening act.  So what the hell, let’s all go.  We had a nice barbecue at the house, and then headed out to the stadium with - what else? - a cooler full of beer.

Brenda had just gotten over a bout of cancer, so although her outfit was the usual denim, her hair was a post-chemo crew cut.  She was by far the coolest looking person there, even though she was twenty years older than most of them.  Kelly got into the show while the rest of us hung out in the parking lot, or wandered around the boardwalk.  It was a beautiful fall evening at the beach with music, beer and old friends.  We even ran into my cousin the police captain doing crowd control.  I’ll never forget his What the hell are you doing here? expression.  Anyway, it was great night with too much beer drank by all concerned, so everybody slept over.

My wife had her own battle with cancer the year before, with more to come later, so we had the added dimension of post-war camaraderie.  Being all city kids, we were sharp enough to understand that we may have only been between world wars.  So I’d be lying if I said “little did we know”.  We knew very well indeed.  They would both have to fight their wars again. 

We last saw Brenda a month ago.  Nobody was kidding themselves about the situation – she was clearly near the end- and hospice arrangements were being made.  I’d like to say it was like a Hallmark movie but that would be a crock.  Real life is always there, staring you in the face.  But Brenda always just stared right back at it.

I tried to impress her kids with stories of her drummer ex-boyfriend, seeing Rocky Horror how many times, and going to local clubs to see some unknown punk band.  But it really wasn’t necessary.  They already knew she was cool.

Both of us being Irish, we aren’t very demonstrative with our emotions.  But when we left that day, we gave each other the strongest hug I can remember.  Even though she was wearing a heavy robe, I could still feel her bones.

Brenda died last Thursday. 

Now her kids, who also lost their father a few years ago, will carry on.  Sean, Kelly, Shannon – you are wonderful, intelligent, beautiful young people.  Go make your mom proud.  I know you will because you have a part of her in you.

Brenda wasn’t a celebrity.  She wasn’t rich or famous.  But she had class, which means she wouldn’t rate a mention on Access Hollywood.  I consider that a badge of honor.  She was just a friend (and a sister and a mother and…) who you could hang out with.  Brenda just was.

So, if you read this, goddamn it, you’re going to f*cking know she existed.

Love you, Brenda.  Rest in Peace.

Free Again: Alex Chilton, RIP

Okay, I admit it.  My Big Star post may have been ill-timed.  Then again, with Big Star slated to play the South by Southwest Festival this month, so was Alex Chilton’s death.

Alex Chilton was not the greatest rock and roll artist of all time.  In fact, he's been compared to Rod Stewart in his capacity to turn his back on what he was great at.  But for a brief period of time, Alex Chilton could do no wrong.  And for a brief time after that, his selfdestructive habits created great art anyway.

In both cases, the public ignored it. 

Maybe it was a good thing that the Beatles broke up when they did, because hard rock was the in thing at the time.  In 1969, a friend told me that Led Zeppelin was better than the Beatles.  So, even with the great guitar playing on “Abbey Road”, it's hard to see the Beatles taken as seriously in that environment.  And in the mid-seventies, John Lennon himself ventured a guess that had they not broken up, they would probably have been doing music similar to ELO.  (Sorry, but, ewwww.)  So how could Big Star - the natural heirs to the Beatles – prosper in such an environment?

But to listen to their music now is to forget all that and wonder how they didn't make it, well, big.   But enough of that.

Alex Chilton, above all else, valued his freedom.  Why else break up the successful Box Tops?  Why else record "Free Again" right after it, and then later "You Can't Have Me."  There's a story about how a record company guy hanging out in the studio said that a new song Chilton was recording had hit potential.  Chilton, taking this opinion for what he thought it was worth, completely changed the arrangement.  To the song's detriment, probably.  But that was Alex for you.

Why else release a greatest hits record called “19 Years” instead of waiting one more year?

Why else put “Thank You Friends” - a natural album closer – second?
His behavior sent Chris Bell packing from Big Star, and yet they may have gone on to make even better music without him.

He had a great way of playing rhythm guitar, where the chords never seemed to come when you’d expect them – “You Can’t Have Me” and “What’s Going Ahn”, being great examples.

Artists from the Replacements, the Bangles, Elliot Smith and others know they owe a debt to Alex Chilton.  Alex himself could probably have cared less as he pretty much disavowed the Big Star records.  He was too busy making what he called "untamed" music.

He did eventually cave and do reunions with both the Box Tops and Big Star, but after decades of working in obscurity who could blame him?

So, no, he wasn't the greatest rock and roll artist of all time.  But he was great in the Bob Dylan and Neil Young tradition of going his own way and to hell with the consequences.

Well, he’s gone his own way again.  I hope we cross paths some time.

Big Brother Is Listening For You

The Song Remains the Same:

There’s this song that I like.  Do you know it?  It kind of goes like…well, I can’t sing.  But the words are about…well, I forget.  But you know which one I’m talking about, right? 

Why, of course!  What, am I a mind reader?

And mind reading alone wouldn’t cut it, since when you did read that mind, it might be blank.  You would need something stronger.

But isn’t it great when our friends attribute such magical powers to us?  It’s like when they ask you if you saw that movie they loved.  You know the one, right?  Of course, they’ve forgotten the title.  (I spend my life trying to forget the movies I hated.  How is it that they forget the ones they loved?)  It’s the one with that guy in it. 

Oh, yeah.   That one. 

As dumb as this all sounds, it appears that I’ve lowered the bar even further, because there really is this song I like - I know the title and how it goes.  It’s not that I don’t remember what song it is.  I just don’t remember which song it is (although “Pictures of Matchstick Men”, “The Mighty Quinn” and “Hurdy Gurdy Man” are among the usual suspects)  And it’s important because this song has an usual history for me. 

Most people I know have a system for judging music.  They:

1. Listen to a song
2. Decide that they either:
1. Like it
2. Don’t like it.

That’s pretty much it.  It’s a simple system, really.  And I occasionally use it, but not for this song. 

Around the time I turned forty, this song went from the Hate It column to the Like It column.  This isn’t unusual – our tastes do change.  Songs that first sat in one column move to the other, and vice versa.  It’s just a matter of running the song through the system again, only this time you get a different result.

But the weird thing about this song is that, when I turned forty, I admitted to myself that I liked it, and probably always did.
So why would I lie to myself and tell myself I didn’t?  Well, it was because my big brother didn’t like it.

No, not the well-respected, fifty-ish family man who's a year older than me now, but rather, the nine-year-old (but still a year older than me) then.  Now, as smart as he is, and was, perhaps I shouldn’t have been so beholden to his opinion.  So, after thirty years, I came to the inescapable conclusion that I had no reason to dislike the song other than the fact that a nine year old boy disliked it.  In 1966.

But by 1997, I was ready to come out from behind my brother’s nine year old shadow, and begin to think for myself.  A somewhat less than inspiring coming of old age story, I’ll admit.

And who knows?  Maybe even he likes the song now.  If I could remember which one it was, I’d ask.


Mom's Listening, Too:

I’m not saying that it took me forty years to figure out my own musical tastes, and suddenly throw out all the records my brother liked.  It’s just that my experience with this song is a good example of how you can think you’re having your own thoughts when you’re really having someone else’s.

In the early seventies, my brother and I stood united on all the crucial musical issues of the day (Grateful Dead vs. Led Zeppelin, Allman Brothers vs. Led Zeppelin, Beatles vs. Led Zeppelin, etc.).   But there were isolated episodes when I wandered off the righteous path.  So I guess my own thoughts were starting to form…


1971
Elton John: Tumbleweed Connection
I seem to remember getting a less than enthusiastic reaction to this one.  Being an Irish household, it may have been that all non-Beatle Brits were suspect.  I know that my mom wasn’t happy that I spent my allowance on it, as the following primal scene attests:
Mom:  What happened to all your money?
Me:     I spent it.
Enter, two younger sisters, as Greek chorus, to provide moral support, to my mom as it turned out.
Mom:  On What?
Me:     An album.
Greek Chorus Younger Sisters: A sharp intake of breath, in unison.
Mom:  What album?
Me:     Tumbleweed Connection
Mom:  I prefer his first record.  How much was it?
Me:     Three dollars.
GCYS:Very, very sharp intake of breath.  In unison.
(Everyone blacks out, as all the oxygen has been sucked from the room.)

1972
Emerson, Lake and Palmer
I went through an ELP phase (72-74), which didn’t sit well with my brother’s Allman Brothers phase (72-present).  Those Brits again.

1973
Kinks: Everybody’s In Showbiz
I could see the look of disappointment in his eyes.  (It wasn’t hard.  He was calling me an idiot at the time.)  After all, there were so many Hot Tuna records to get, and so little money.  My first Kinks album, and one of the weaker ones, as it turns out.  Brits, too, but big drinkers, and so, honorary Irish.

1974
Advice to younger siblings sharing a room with older siblings:  Don’t play side two of pre “Born to Run” no-name Bruce Springsteen’s “The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle”, while getting ready for work/school.  Your older sibling was out late last night, and is still trying to sleep.

1975:
Pre-E-Street-Band-no-name Nils Lofgren’s self titled solo album, and to-this-day-still-no-name Elliot Murphy’s “Aquashow”.  For some reason, these two records really got on his nerves.  Maybe Nils was a little too bouncy/hooky for what was his more boogie/jammy taste.  Elliot’s voice was a little nasally, but his attack is right out of “Blonde on Blonde”.  I’m still a bit mystified.

1976
Warren Zevon’s (or to my brother, Warren Zero) first record.  I admit that I got it because it was produced by Jackson Browne, who my brother thought I had a crush on.  Warren’s voice is a bit husky and awkward, but the songs are great.  His version of “Poor Poor Pitiful Me” demolishes Linda Rondstadt’s.
Crazy Horse’s first album, with soon-to-be-topic-of-Neil Young’s “Tonight’s the Night”, Danny Whitten, and repeat offender Nils Lofgren.  One song in particular annoyed the hell out of him, with a vocal by who knows who (it sounds half Danny/half Nils, but with a head cold), run through a phaser of some kind.  He thought they were saying “Finkelstein” (I does kind of sound like that) but the actual title is “Beggar’s Day”.

1977 and So On:

I think by now he’d given up on me.  Besides, we were both working and could buy whatever records we wanted.  I guess, in retrospect, his focus on the tried and true allowed me to go off the deep end.  I’d spend hours in the cutoff bin bringing home stuff like Earth Opera (because Peter Rowan was on it), and Nektar (because I liked album-long suites), while he filled in the West Coast catalogue.  In all, it was a good balance.

But I can’t leave well enough alone.  As adults, we’d exchange Christmas presents, and I couldn’t resist getting him CDs – Eno and Roxy Music being the most egregious examples.  (Jesus, more Brits.)  Then I went the burned CD route.  Best of Crazy Horse, anyone? 


And So Forth:

But since the whole point of this blog is to turn you on to something you haven’t heard yet, I will be going back to retrace some of my steps.  I expect to find a few times where I went wrong, but hope to find a number of instances where I went right, because there are a lot of great records out there that I think you’d like to know about. 

What was that song, anyway?

EZ Listening

My wife informs me that the playlist I’ve titled “Easy Listening” might better be named “Kill Yourself” music. KY having a more positive connotation, I’ll have to resist my habit of acronymizing everything. “Kill Yourself”, or as I like to call it “Dark Night of the Soul” music is a favorite genre of mine, but giving it it’s own playlist hadn’t crossed my mind.

So why is my idea of Easy Listening music another person’s “Kill Yourself” music? Maybe because most other people’s idea of Easy Listening makes me want to kill myself.

During a particularly low period - which coincided with my discovery of Limewire - I tracked down several very old songs that meant a lot to me, but that I had never gotten around to buying (see the “One Great Song on a Lousy CD” post I haven’t written yet). Well, one thing led to another - I hadn’t heard these emotionally laden songs in a very long while, but now I was downloading and listening to one after the other – and I was sprinting down Desolation Row. And you never know when these mood altering songs might come in handy, so I burned a CD with the best/worst of them.

Listen to them at your peril:

Who Knows Where the Time Goes? – Judy Collins

Fairport Convention’s got the rockier version, with Richard Thompson on guitar, and Sandy Denny’s vocal, but it’s Judy Collins’s version that gets to me every time. I’m not sure why – she sounds peaceful enough. Maybe it’s because it seems like she’s out there…all alone.

Send in the Clowns – Judy Collins

Judy again (hey, I thought I was cooler than this). I’m not familiar with the other versions of this song, so I’m sure there are better ones. But there she goes again, putting me somewhere that’s just not safe to be for very long.

Philadelphia – Neil Young

From the movie, and miles better than Bruce’s “Streets of Philadelphia”, which is not bad at all. Living alone is bad enough, but dying alone?

Hallelujah - Rufus Wainwright

If you prefer the Jeff Buckley version, I understand. Either way, love’s a bitch – in a great way.

Birds – Neil Young

I can’t believe this song isn’t more famous. Okay, it’s tucked away on side two of “After the Goldrush”, but it’s an incredible kiss-off song. Whoever she was, I’m sure she was flattered.

Dying to Live – Edgar Winter’s White Trash

Just when you think there’s no reason to go on - about two thirds of the way in - he gives you one.

Jealous Guy – John Lennon

A beautiful song about being a jerk, and the harm it does. To be alive is to hurt other people.

Harvest – Neil Young

The slow pace and laid back playing could fool you into thinking it’s just an ordinary country tune. But there’s the screaming in the rain, and the uncertainty that it’s all going to be all right.

Urge for Going – Tom Rush

Alone again, naturally, because nothing lasts. Pull that coat closer when he sings “winter’s closing in”.

Streets of London – Ralph McTell

You think you got problems? Hopefully, you’ll feel some consolation, but probably not.

That’s the Way – Led Zeppelin

Young love torn apart. Their most poignant moment.

John Barleycorn - Traffic/Can’t Find My Way Home - Blind Faith

OK, thematically, they don't fit, but musically they do.

Handbags and Gladrags – Rod Stewart

Talk about guilt. This pampered rock star (well, pre-pampering) gets to play an overworked geezer lecturing a spoiled brat. And somehow you feel guilty about it.

Percy’s Song - Arlo Guthrie

This is where I just lose it. I think it’s Arlo’s delivery as much as it ‘s Dylan’s tale of injustice. It just builds and builds until you’re devastated.

Still with me? Did we lose anyone?

Do you remember when Judas Priest got sued because their music supposedly caused two young people to attempt suicide? And if you try hard, you can probably think of a few songs that refer to suicide. Some of them have even caused legal problems for the artists. But we both know that that’s a crock. There isn’t one song above that mentions it, but several that make it cross your mind.

And I do birthday parties.

My 2008

The title of this Year End Roundup is more of a plea than a statement. My son’s and my wife’s 2008 music keeps intruding on mine. In 2007, it was Queen, Aerosmith and the Killers. This year, it’s Avenged Sevenfold and the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

So let them write their own entry. Here’s my year in music:

Loves:

None yet. It’s a shame that no music has indelibly stamped my year. But there was enough joy in real life to keep me going, so I’ll not complain. Besides, it’s when the going gets tough that the un-tough (me) go for their music. That’s when I’ll need it.

Highlights:

Nuggets: This four CD set Father’s Day present is the American version of the 1960’s British Invasion (okay, maybe a little later). Well, talk about your fun! There are not many “great songs” here, but there are a ton of “great records”. I still couldn’t tell you the names of 75% of them because not all of them have names like “Louie, Louie” and “Woolly Bully”, but most of them are in the same vein. Not for the pretentious.

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Now playing: The Turtles - Outside Chance
via FoxyTunes

Revelations:

Well, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, thanks to my son. He played their Greatest Hits for us and I was surprised how pretty it was. My original impression of them had been all energy and rhythm, but no melody or songs. I recommend this record or By the Way as a way of bonding with your annoying (not you, Mike) teenager.

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Now playing: Red Hot Chili Peppers - Venice Queen
via FoxyTunes

Likes:

The New Pornographers “Mass Romantic”: Neko Case’s striking “Fox Confessor Brings the Flood” led me to her other band, where she shows off her voice in a more chaotic pop setting. It can get to be too much, like a friend who’s had too much coffee, but when you’re in the mood – or had a few yourself - it’s quite a ride.

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Now playing: The New Pornographers - Mass Romantic
via FoxyTunes

The Flaming Lips “The Soft Bulletin”: This one’s got a lot of good tunes, but I still prefer the more spare, gentle Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. But quite enjoyable.

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Now playing: The Flaming Lips - What Is the Light?
via FoxyTunes

Modest Mouse’s “Good News for People Who Like Bad News”: Or as I like to think of it, Bad News for People Who Like Easy Listening. With titles like “The Good Times are Killing Me” you’ve got to love this guy’s attitude. He sings how he feels and he doesn’t feel too great. But the guitars ease the pain, and his gentle side takes a bit of the edge off. They remind me of early Talking Heads, only from the Midwest. What?

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Now playing: Modest Mouse - The World at Large
via FoxyTunes

Finds:

Django Rheinhardt’s “Djangology” – This little $6.99 miracle effortlessly brings to you back to a time you never actually went through, except maybe by way of the soundtrack to the Little Rascals. But then that band didn’t have anyone playing an awesome guitar, violin or piano.

Discos Matador – Intended Play 2007, which was a free sampler from Matador records. My wife found this in my bag when I got home from the record store. I didn’t see the lady at the counter put it in. I was too worried about her reaction to what I bought. (As usual, she was totally unimpressed. Those sixty year old Russian women are awesome cool.) The ten or so bands, the high point among them Lavendar Diamond, range from good to excellent, and I’ll be looking forward to their other work.

Disappointments:

LCD Soundsystem’s “The Sound of Silver”: This 2007 “punk disco” Pazz and Jop winner is not a bad album, but I just don’t go to dance clubs, where I suspect it sounds fabulous.

My Morning Jacket’s “Z”: Strange as it may sound at this point, I don’t like this guy’s voice. It undermines some of his tunes, which aren’t bad, but rarely striking.

Challenges/Homework:

Burial’s “Untrue”: Well, I’ve listened to this 2007 electronica Metacritic winner about 20 times and still don’t think I hear it yet. It’s not bad – I’m just a little dense sometimes.

Steinski’s “What Does it All Mean?”: This is like a hip hop version of Nuggets. Steinski samples music and all sorts of other sounds and puts it all together for your dancing pleasure. Fortunately for me, I can sit and enjoy it anyway.

History:

Led Zeppelin-Long Story

Jimi Hendrix’s “Band of Gypsys”. We get to hear Jimi live, and find out that, hey, he really can play guitar, in case you forgot.

Christmas Gifts. Or Give Me Just a Little More Time!:

I like to experiment during the dark winter months. It’s a bad idea, but it’s me. This year’s no different.

Charlie Parker’s The Legendary Dial Masters: Quintessential jazz.

Music in My Head: Afropop

Ocean of Remembranc: Sufi music for meditation.

Le Tigre: Smart Ass Feminist Punk rock.

Wussy’s “Funeral Dress”: Right out of the box, the male/female vocals and electric guitar win me over. I think this one’s going to be a keeper.

So there you have it. You can now rest easy knowing how my 2008 was musically. Oh yeah, how about yours?

My Led Zeppelin Problem, and Yours, Maybe

There are some artists you love, some you think are okay and some that you hate. If you like them, they’re great, if you don’t, they suck. Taste as aesthetic judgment, right?

But then there are those artists who you don’t like as much as you think you should. Or you may respect their talent and acknowledge that their music is well made. But it just doesn’t move you.

Is it just a matter of taste, or something more? What if you, for some reason, actually dislike the artist? Would this get in the way of your enjoying their music? You’d think the two things were separate. I mean, can’t I just listen to the music without it getting personal? (Actually, I can’t even eat breakfast without it getting personal, but that’s another post entirely.) Apparently not. For some of us, music, like sex (now, anyway) requires that we like the person.

This is my Led Zeppelin problem, and it has strained more than one friendship. When my wife and I compare our teen years, it appears that the Led Zeppelin issue could separate neighborhoods, and even nationalities. After all, how many Irish Led Zeppelin fans do you know? (Actually I know two, but stay with me on this.) How many Italian Grateful Dead fans? (See?) There even seemed to be a correlation to your choice of recreational drug.

But to bring it back to me, just how did Zeppelin and I get to this point?

I trace it back to when I was twelve, and hanging out at my best friend’s house. (We almost always hung there instead of my house. Otherwise, he’d be writing about the Grateful Dead right now.) His big brother put on “Led Zeppelin II”, which had just come out. I’d never heard of them. When it got to all the sound effects in the middle of “Whole Lotta Love”, he made the statement that they were “better than the Beatles”, who couldn’t do this. Wouldn’t was more like it, but what did I know then? He was the one with every Beatles album. And, since older kids were the supreme authorities on everything, this was a major challenge to one of my most deeply held beliefs.

To make matters worse, their fans thought that Jimmy Page was “the best guitar player in the world”. In other words, better than Eric Clapton, who, I happened to know, was the best. The idea that some loud, obnoxious axe-man could be better than modest, unassuming Eric was appalling. (A major theme in my Irish/Catholic youth was that conceited people shouldn’t be better at something than modest people, which was why I hated anyone with a high opinion of themselves. Even Elvis Presley’s sneer signaled egotism instead of libido, which was not yet on my radar.) In retrospect, it might have been that Eric just had better press. Still, after all these years, I don’t quite get it. And when you’re twelve – which is where I am now, emotionally – these things matter.

Now let’s add the swaggering, screeching Robert Plant, who was everything I hated in a singer. I much preferred poor, moaning Greg Allman, or kind but demented Jack Bruce. And moreover, Mr. Plant must be made to answer for all of the shrieking, big-haired male singers that followed in his wake.

So for me, Led Zeppelin was the epitome of rock and roll excess. Their music was unseemly. I would never be able to defend them against my parent’s objections like I could the Beatles.

So I hoped that they would just go away, and that the world, as I defined it, would right itself. But just when the memory of their last LP was fading, another one would come out and sell millions, and it would all start over again.

It was only much later that I learned that Led Zeppelin had a reputation for redoing old blues standards and taking songwriting credit. Although these facts do serve to justify my more ethical objections to them, to be fair, I only became aware of this after I decided that I wouldn’t like them. (But jeez, guys, I think you owe some people some money!)

And on top of all of this, add their reputation for debauchery while on tour. So you can see how a tight-ass like me could really work up a case against them. The libertarian in me, however, feels that the young woman who got slapped with the fish, probably chose to get slapped with the fish. (Don’t ask.)

So they were loud, dishonest, obnoxious, leering, sexist, and remarkably successful with women. And there I was listening to the New Riders of the Purple Sage.

And their fans seemed…well, kinda dumb. This sounds awful, and obviously wrong, in retrospect, but it just didn’t seem like the Zeppelin fans were hanging with the honor students. But they didn’t seem too worried about it. They were too busy having a good time. And if that isn’t a good reason to resent them, I don’t know what is.

So, why should any of this matter?

Well, this issue reared its ugly head again when my wife asked me to add some Zeppelin CDs to our next BMG order. (It had slipped my mind that she ran with a Zeppelin crowd back in the day. And here I was thinking I had her brainwashed.) Had this request come earlier in our relationship, it would have been tantamount to her saying she wanted to see other people.

But now, the notion (buying the CDs, that is) wasn’t as appalling as it might once have been. Still, it was galling to have to guide her to the album that had “Whole Lotta Love” on it, which she thought was their first record. So I – the non fan – rattled off the songs from that record for her. (Doesn’t everybody know this stuff?)

So we got down to the business of deciding which albums to get. We already had several on vinyl, and briefly considered getting the 10-CD-complete-album-box-set-yadayadayada, but declined to pay the $80. Instead, we got four for about $25. She wanted II and IV. I wanted III. Neither of us wanted I, but we got it anyway because, well, what’s the sense in having II, III and IV if you’re not going to get I, too? It wouldn’t be right. It also helped that BMG was having one of those buy-one-get-40 sales. (Because you were going to get those 40 CDs anyway, right?)

So we’re talking the Zeppelin pantheon, more or less. And just how do these records stack up, against, say, the first four Allman Brothers or Cream albums?

Sorry fans, but “Led Zeppelin I” is rip-off central (just type “Zeppelin songwriting credit” into Google) but it has the most music, and man, they sure had their own sound. The Allman Brother’s first record is perfectly good, and it captures their emerging personality. “Fresh Cream” is the most modest of the three. It’s got excellent blues covers, but the originals could be better. I give a very slight edge to Zeppelin, for gall.

“Led Zeppelin II” is, again, a more generous album (albeit, not towards the artists they are still stealing from), and less bloated than their first. But I still prefer the high points of “Idlewild South”. “Disreali Gears” – a supposed classic – is not bad, just a little dated. A slight edge to the Allmans.

The third albums don’t compare easily since two of them are double albums - one all live, and the other half-live. But since such albums usually suck, it all comes out in the wash anyway. “Live at the Fillmore” is the classic. “Wheel’s of Fire” is a mish mosh, with weird studio stuff and loooong live stuff. It can be very silly, but it’s still fun. “Led Zeppelin III” is a departure, and not bad at all. And with all the acoustic stuff, it’s actually pretty brave. But the clear edge goes to the Allmans.

Now, call me crazy but I happen to love the “Eat a Peach”’s 35 minute “Mountain Jam”. Add to that “Blue Sky”, “Little Martha” and “Melissa” and you’ve got a very strong LP. It’s probably my personal favorite here. Cream’s “Good-bye” shows them limping off stage - the sound on the live cuts sucks. But side two is excellent – highlighted by an intense “Sitting on Top of the World” (crappy sound and all) and “Badge” (greatest guitar solo on a pop song, ever?). But you have to give “Led Zeppelin IV” its due. The songwriting is blossoming, the drumming powerful, and production, courtesy of Jimmy Page, absolutely sterling. There’s not a bad song here. It’s one of those records that I don’t love, exactly, but that I know is great. On the whole, a tie between Zeppelin and the Allmans.

Now, I wouldn’t blame you for totally disagreeing with me on all four albums. I mean, talk about your apples and oranges! But that’s exactly my point. Some of us have a preference, and I’m struggling with music I prefer versus music I know is great on its own terms. So how do I explain the fact that Zeppelin has gone toe to toe with the Allmans, who I supposedly prefer, a clearly best Cream, record-wise?

Well, I’ve come to respect Jimmy Page as a sound maker. As a producer, he used to overdo it, of course. Early on, he was always throwing sound affects into the middle of songs. Later on, he learned how to give a record a unified sound, to better effect. And he always strove to add a unique guitar sound to each song.

Paradoxically, this was my problem with him as a guitar player. He was always more sonic than musical for my taste. His actual solos could be a little sloppy, sometimes. Maybe someday I’ll hear the great Jimmy Page solo, but I haven’t yet. And that includes the little display in “Whole Lotta Love”, and the one at the end of “Stairway to Heaven”, which I think is his most Clapton-esque. I’ve heard that Jimmy Page appears on about 60% of all the English rock records between 1963 and 1966. Someday, I hope to find a really good collection of the best ones so that I can fully appreciate his talent.

But I now see that Jimmy Page was consciously trying to make rock and roll records. So he didn’t just hang out until his solo came, like Clapton would. Jimmy Page is all over his records, playing lead, rhythm, acoustic, twelve-string, banjo, mandolin, all in the service of making the end result distinct from start to finish. And that counts for a lot.

And just how did this abrasive band could come up with such beautiful songs as “Thank You”, “That’s the Way”, “The Battle of Evermore” and “Going to California”? Man, the snob appeal of looking down on a supposedly loud, stupid band wore off pretty quickly.

But, not to worry. It’s not like I’m standing around with a Zeppelin CD in one hand, and an Allmans CD in the other, unable to decide what to play. That's what your 5-CD-carousel changer is there for - to get you through such crises. Besides, I’m probably listening to something else altogether now. (Except for the next month or so, since the BMG order just came in.)

When I was a kid, I wanted to believe that you couldn’t be good at something unless you were nice, too. So it’s been hard for me to admit that you can admire or respect someone you don’t particularly like, but it’s time for me to admit that Led Zeppelin has earned a place in my CD player.

So I think I’ve finally made my peace with the blimp from hell.