All Time Favorites, or The Courtship of Michael's Father:

Getting to Know You:

Somewhere to your right is a list of my all time favorite albums, whose contents may seem a bit puzzling. Let me explain.

One of the problems with “all time” lists is that when you decide to check out something from somebody’s list, you often end up buying the record, listening to it once, not getting it, and putting it away.

Now nothing would please me more than to have someone write back and say that they tried one of my all-timers and totally agreed with me, but that’s not likely to happen. As a matter of fact, the more I think about it, the more skeptical I’d be of such a reaction.

Our tastes are just too subjective, and we often attach a private emotion or memory to the music, which gives it a greater significance than what someone else might give it. And in turn, they do the same thing. My wife and I will probably love music from 1981 to an unreasonable degree because that’s when we first met. Talk about music improving life. Sometimes life improves music.

But more importantly, greatness doesn’t always reveal itself right away. It would be nice to think that the “great albums” just jump off the turntable/CD Player at you. This does happen, but more so, I suspect, to people who are easily impressed. We’ve all had enough experience to be suspicious of love at first listen. There may be an immediate infatuation, but that often leads to an early flame out.

After many listens, great albums hang in there, sometimes getting better and better, which in turn might mean that they didn’t seem all that great at first. Your first sip of a wine isn’t always memorable, but if you find yourself going back to the bottle again and again, it could be growing on you (or you could have a drinking problem).

There’s a period of about a week after you’ve bought a CD when you’ve gotten to know it and have formed a working opinion on it. If you loved it from the first listen, you may think you’ve got a masterpiece on your hands. But more often than not, you find that what made such a strong impression on you is now getting on your nerves. So much so that months later you may ask yourself what did I ever see in that album? 

Remind you of anything?

There’s a familiarization process that takes place that, not surprisingly, is a lot like dating. (Notes to self: 1-research probable inverse relationship between number of albums owned and number of times gotten laid, 2-Kill self) Often, there’s something immediately attractive about the record and it’s just a question of finding out if there’s any content behind the form. Other times, it’s instant irritation, and you just have to know what anyone would see in it/him/her, and you decide to find out.

In my case, the first listen might make little or no impression. Or even a negative one, which usually means that I’m in new territory, and that a week just won’t be enough.

I’ve even had cases where I just didn’t care for a record at first, and put it away for a while. Then, months later, when I feel like I’m ready for it, I put it on again and it sounds great. It took until the following St. Patrick’s Day (no joke) for the Pogues’ “Rum, Sodomy and the Lash” to take hold. Once it did, it never let go. I had to get out of summertime altogether before Public Image, Ltd’s “Second Edition” could get to me. (Listen to it and you’ll know what I mean.)

Connubial Bliss:

The great ones are like spouses. They’re there for you, they don’t disappoint and they’re in it for long haul. 

And their beauty is only deepened by time.

So I’ve put my current top five below in no particular order, and tried to convey my different impressions of them over time.

 

Abbey Road – The Beatles
Released and bought in 1969.
What I expected:
Back then we were spoiled. There was quality all around, and I had no reason to expect less.
First Time:
A radio station was playing all of side two, and it was one of those rare experiences of sustained ecstasy. Ladies, is this what multiple orgasms are like?
Middle:
Endless replays over the next weeks, with its greatness undiminished.
Long Term:
After having put it way for quite a while, my son got into the Beatles, which gave us an excuse to get it on CD. And it still held up quite well. If I wanted to get analytical about it, I suppose I could carp about how I never really loved “Come Together” or “Something”, or that “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” and “Octopus’s Garden” are a little lightweight. And yet when I put it on, side one sounds just fine anyway. Side two still grabs me from start to finish, and gets my vote for greatest twenty five minutes of music ever. It’s Paul McCartney’s finest moment, and, sadly, he would never even come close again.

 

Another Green World – Brian Eno
Released in 1975, bought in 1979.
What I expected:
Something “spacey”, whatever the hell that means.
First time:
Quiet, a little out of reach, hardly there, really.
Middle:
Not quite Easy Listening, just beautiful and strange. In fact, it taught me the difference between pretty and beautiful, which up until then I thought was just a matter of degree. Now I know it’s a different thing altogether.
Long Term:
After all these years it’s familiarity does not quite diminish how strange it must have seemed when it first came out. This keeps it from ever seeming dated. When an acquaintance tells you they love “all kinds of music” put this on, if only to shut them up, and then enjoy.

 

Tonight’s the Night – Neil Young
Released in 1975, bought in 1979.
What I expected:
I had heard that it was harsh, drunken, and out of tune, but I’ve got relatives like this so I wasn’t fazed. Such things are usually, ahem, an acquired taste,
First listen:
I was actually relieved at how generous and accessible it was. Sometimes “masterpieces” can be on the cheap side, as though we should be thankful for what little we get. This one’s got six songs to a side, and they all get to the point right away. The “imperfections” never seemed gratuitous, and are justified by the intensity of feeling.
Middle Period:
I spent many a late evening during my twenties listening to this record. It’s good for basically unhappy people, and it may be a “male” record. I noticed that I didn’t listen to it as much after I met my wife. Maybe I didn’t need to.
Long Term:
An enduring album, but not for a sunny Saturday afternoon.

 

The Who Sell Out:
Released in 1967, bought in 1982.
What I expected:
I found this on someone’s list of essential ‘60s albums, and, thinking it strange that it was included while “Tommy” was not, I figured I’d give it a try. It would probably turn out to be a good but not great album.
First impression:
It all seemed so lightweight! Some of the songs sounded too much like other Who songs, which was irritating (until I realized that these came first). And if you’re in a foul mood, you’re not going to appreciate the commercials in between songs.
Middle:
But it grows and grows on you, until you realize how great the songs are. And the commercials are hilarious. It pulled me out of many a dark mood.
Long Term:
The CD version has ten additional songs that I first thought took away from the whole thing, but now seem to exist quite nicely with the original songs. And it recently helped me through an all night drive from Florida, with me enjoying every moment. It’s currently my all time favorite for its combination of power, melody and sense of humor.

 

Out of Time – R.E.M.
Released and bought in 1991.
What I expected:
By this point, I thought I might have had enough of REM. I’d been a fan since 1984, and that’s a long time for me. So I didn’t rush out to buy it when it came out. But my sister raved about it, so what the hell, right?
First Listen:
Not bad at all, but I was still afraid that it might not wear well and end up being that “one album too many” we all have of our favorite artists.
Middle:
We spent most of 1991 listening to this. There was a lot going on at the time, which sometimes causes the music to take more significance than it might otherwise have. In this case, it was an island of beauty in a troubled sea.
Long Term:
For the longest time, “Murmur” was my favorite by them, and indeed one of my all-timers. But this one just won’t let go. I’ve read the lukewarm reviews and the complaints about its slickness, but they just don’t wash with me. If anything, it’s the too well known “Losing My Religion” that I savor the least now. It’s quite an achievement when a long, slow one like “Low” can carry you along. And a greater one when all the pretty ones that follow turn out to have a brain.

Old Girlfriends:

If I were to expand the above list to ten or twenty five, I quickly get into a lot of trouble. There are just too many records that fit into that next level that I call “great and Great, but not GREAT”, and they move around like crazy.

Plus, around 1978 my tastes began to go through a major change, so it’s interesting to see how I now view the albums I considered my favorites prior to that time. Back then I had fewer records and more time to listen to them. Kid’s brains can handle a lot of repetition, but that may make something hard to go back to, like an old episode of “Superman” you’ve seen a thousand times..

So here are my old faves:

 

Jackson Browne: For Everyman
This has a few of my very favorite songs, but Jackson must be held accountable for pioneering the whole sensitivity angle, which I’m just too old for now. And his first and third albums are really just as good.

 

Allman Brothers at Fillmore East
This is still probably the best live album I can think of, with some of the best guitar playing – some of the solos are ingrained in my head - but I like great songs too much to put it in the pantheon anymore.

 

Grateful Dead: Europe 72
I’m not even sure it’s my favorite Dead album anymore, but it did make me completely change my opinion of them. Its several great songs balance out the instrumental excursions. At this point, it’s just a little too played out. But it left quite a mark.

 

Bruce Springsteen: The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle
“Poor production” and all, side two, imho, is the best music Bruce ever made. Wild, urban, ethnic, audacious. Side one suffers in comparison.

Derek and the Dominoes: Layla
Passion and guitars to spare. To this day, the urgency of “Anyday” still gets to me. But it’s another case of something that may simply have been overplayed. Then again, come talk to me in ten years.

I feel a bit disloyal, not liking some of them as much as I used to. But not to worry - to this day I still can’t dispassionately judge the Beatles. Abbey Road, by the way, is the only one that made it to the top of the list and stayed there.

It’s hard to tell which records I’ve played more – the pre 1978 ones when there was a lot of time and not many other records to play, over roughly a 12 year period, or the post 1978s, when there was less time, more competition and different taste, not to mention thirty years.

I do hope that heaven (or the other place) has one of those big computers that will tell me exactly how many times I played each of my albums. I wonder which one I played the most? The answers might be surprising. Meet the Monkees, anyone?

Santa Claus vs. The Go-Betweens - Christmas Music

There are two basic types of Christmas music - official and personal. You are aware of the former but may not recognize the latter.

First, a clarification: I’d call it holiday music, but I don’t know a damned thing about Hannukah or Kwanzaa, and when was that last time you heard a Thanksgiving song, anyway? So I hope you’ll bear with me when I simply call it Christmas music.

Official Christmas Music:

This is the music that pertains to the holidays. You know what I mean - the stuff you begin to hear in the shopping malls right after Labor Day. It goes into heavy rotation from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day. If it’s played again after that, mass suicides are sure to ensue.

Once Thanksgiving passes, the wife and kids can’t wait to put Official Christmas Music (OCM) on in the house. I don’t see the point myself. If you’re going to be bombarded with it outside why bring it inside? I don’t want to hear OCM until Christmas Eve at six pm, when I’ve finally gotten my shopping done and I can get into the holiday spirit. (This lasts about eighteen hours.)

In mid-December 1979, while my roommate, his girlfriend and I were decorating our tree, I decided to put on some music. I picked something pretty, but definitely non-Christmas. I thought that the tree trimming combined with the music would be sufficient to get us into a holiday mood that we could call our own. To me, those are the best ones. But after a short while, my roommate’s girlfriend politely asked, “Ahem, do you have any, you know, Christmas music?”

Now I’ve got nothing against Christmas music per se. My strong preference is, of course, for good Christmas music, which I define simply as holiday music you can stand to hear more than once. So I’ve learned my lesson and have tried over the years to get some OCM for the sake family, friends (and myself).

Here are some of my favorites:

 

The Bells of Dublin by the Chieftains

An Irish Christmas, musically, anyway. (The other kind, I don't know that I'd recommend.) It’s got the usual suspects (Elvis Costello, Ricki Lee Jones, Jackson Browne, etc.) as guest stars, which is normally a dead giveaway that it’s NOT a great album. But here, just about everyone shines.

I bought this record out of desperation because I was low on holiday music, and had set my expectations to…okay. But the sound was clear and bright, the musicianship excellent (and more importantly enthusiastic) and there is a commitment to each performance that rises above professionalism and into joy from all concerned that actually translates into music you want to hear over and over again. It’s got the best version of “Deck the Halls” ever.

A great Christmas album and a great album.

A Charlie Brown Christmas by the Vince Guaraldi Trio

If you’ve seen the TV show, you’ve heard most of this music already, so you already know whether you like it or not. Play it right after everyone’s gone home and you can finally relax. A great example of making something new out of something old. A damned good jazz album, too.

 

A New Wave Christmas:

Christmas with electric guitars! Who could ask for more?

The ones you know: “2000 Miles” by the Pretenders and “The Little Drummer Boy” by David Bowie and Bing Crosby.

The one you may know: “Fairy Tale of New York” by the Pogues and Kirsty Macoll, which gets my vote for all time greatest modern Christmas song.

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Now playing: The Pogues & Kristy Maccoll - Fairytale Of New York
via FoxyTunes

The ones you probably don’t know: “Christmas Time” by the Chris Stamey Group and “Mary Xmess” by Sun 60.

And many more. A real pleasure.

Personal Christmas Music:

“Personal” Christmas music, on the other hand, is the music you happen to hear around the holidays, but that otherwise has no connection to them other than the one you attach to it yourself.

 While OCM may bring back vague recollections of childhood Christmases, the advantage of PCM is that it can bring you back to the specific year in which you first heard it.

Since PCM is deeply subjective, I understand now that while it’s good for me, it probably isn’t good for guests. It’s too much to expect them to enjoy what I happen to be obsessing over at the moment. Maybe they’re already obsessing over something else anyway. And it’s probably an illusion to think that my current obsession is somehow more apt for the holiday season other than that it’s great music. I may have heard a great album in December that you heard in July. So that makes my holiday memories your summer vacation memories.

I should add that it’s not quite enough for my PCM to only be great music. “Daydream Nation” by Sonic Youth is a good album, but it’s loud and harsh, and not a good accompaniment to a Thanksgiving morning preparing hors d’oeuvres and dressing a colicky three month old for a long drive. So, I’ve learned to hedge my bets a little and, when given the choice, pick positive over negative, soothing over intense, emotional over intellectual. This is a no-brainer for people other than me.

And I’ll now admit to what may already be obvious - that I’ve come to “engineer” the whole thing by making sure to visit the record store a few days before Thanksgiving. This is stupid, pathetic, over-determined, non-spontaneous, and worst of all, fallible. But since these words apply equally well to me, I still do it. And when it works – more often than you’d think – it’s magical.

A word about new holiday songs, by which I mean either new songs, or new versions of old ones. If they’re bland or forgettable, they will simply be added to the vast store of Official Christmas music and get recycled for next holiday season. But if they are really good – an old song kept fresh (The Pretenders version of “Have Yourself a Merry Christmas”), or a great new one (ditto, “2,000 Miles”) - you can end up with the best of both worlds - a hybrid of the Official and Personal.

Another great example is “Christmas Wrapping” by the Waitresses, which brings me right back to the moment I first heard it. But this is rare. Most of the time, the song is either one or the other.

OCM vs. PCM

The difference between the OCM and PCM is the difference between what means a lot to the outside world and what means a lot to you. Depending on how much you’re in synch with the outside world, you might be quite satisfied with OCM, and not have a single song to call your own PCM. So score one for Santa.

What it really boils down to, in essence, is this: the difference between OCM and PCM is that OCM reminds you of the good things that have happened while PCM tells you that good things are still possible. This is why I will always need PCM. It’s also why I do this blog.

So I feel compelled to tell you about a couple of my favorite PCM records. They were heard around the holidays, and thus, made those holidays better:

“1978-1990” by the Go-Betweens:

I bought this “best-of, plus rarities” in 1990 during one of my traditional pre Thanksgiving shopping trips because I had heard and loved “Streets of Your Town”. We listened to it (along with the six others I got that day, but I’m better now) on the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, while preparing hundred layer dip for the next day’s dinner at mom’s house.

I could tell from the very first listen that this record was going to stick with me, especially when I heard “Bye-bye Pride”, “Second Hand Furniture” and “Right Here”. I’ve hesitated to recommend this record because the G-Bs are like a good bottle of wine in a soda pop world - the first taste is a bit dry but before you know it, you’ve finished the bottle.

So the singing could sometimes be better, or the melody occasionally takes a back seat to the words, but that’s fine because the band always finds the best way to put each song across, whether it’s the slammin’ drummer who just happens to be a lady, the occasional strings and brass, or the guitars - usually one acoustic and one electric – the former never tired, and the latter always reminding you that this is not folk music. Oh, and by the way, the songs are awesome.

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Now playing: The Go-Betweens - Bye Bye Pride

\via FoxyTunes  

"Oceans Apart" (2005) by the Go-Betweens

The G-Bs then went on hiatus for twelve years. The songwriters – Robert Forster and Grant McLennan - released a number of solo albums before getting back together in 2002, and doing three more records. Since then Grant McLennan has passed away.

On my most recent pre-Thanksgiving music trip, I decided to give this, their last record, a try. I am happy to report that our 2007 holiday season has already been indelibly marked by this marvelous record. Robert Forster’s “Darlinghurst Nights” is a high point, and Grant McLennan may have been saving his best for last. “Finding You”, “Boundary Rider” and “The Statue” are among the best songs he’s ever done. So long live Grant McLennan.

This band consistently made music that achieved the very rare balance of beauty and resilience. Autumnal. Quirky. Proud. Long live the Go-Betweens.

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Now playing: The Go-Betweens - Boundary Rider
via FoxyTunes

And The Winner Is…

I can’t expect anyone to believe that these two records mean more to me than all the Christmas music I’ve ever heard. So I guess that means that Santa Claus wins. But let’s face it, he had help from Jesus.

But that leads me to this question – What would Jesus listen to? That’s easy. The Go-Betweens.

Happy Holidays.