Heroes and GOATs, Part 3: 10,000 Listens and Almost As Many Reasons

Me

You

Last time I was trying to explain how we can't expect other folks to like our favorite music. On the bright side, I'm sure all the people driving past my house blasting music have read that post and have seen the error of their ways.

And in addition to the obstacles I mentioned, there's another one. Time, or if you prefer, opportunity.

Thinking back to my niece, I have to ask myself why would I expect her (or you) to react any differently than she did? Especially when on my first listen to The Who Sell Out, I found it kind of weak and derivative? It took a few listens for it to click, and I like the Who. So why would I expect a person who is new to a piece of music to react to it the way I do now after 10,000 listens? (That's a Malcolm Gladwell joke. I'm sure it's no more than 7,500.)

But even beyond that why should I expect you to feel the same way I do even if you did listen to it 10,000 times?

The reason we have favorite albums is that they plumb some deep emotions and memories unique to us as individuals. It's a personal reaction, so it only follows that your GOATs would differ from mine. Should we come up with a new term? Greatest of My Time? Greatest of My Life? Hmm, GOMT and GOML don't just roll off the tongue like GOAT.

And that's how it ought to be. If your list is comprised solely of those records that always top the GOAT lists I'd venture to say you're a music liker, not a music lover. Music likers are like people who don't use hot sauce. They want to feel comfortable, not destroyed. They're in it for the subject matter. Is the song pro-Love? Anti-war? Well then, it's gotta be good, right?? If it's "anti-bad things" I have to like it. That's how I know I'm on the right side. Next stop: Hooray for everything!

It's like the movie Ghandi, which I still haven't seen and am not particularly interested in seeing (although it probably does pass the "Jaybee Bound To a Chair" test, which at my present age must be amended to include a "bathroom break" provision). Sure, it's about a great guy doing great things, but you'll never catch me saying, you know what I want to do right now? I want to see Ghandi!

Where was I? Oh, yes! Your reaction SHOULD be unique. Do you like all the usual suspects, by which I mean those records that have sold the most? (Eagles Greatest Hits, Vol 2 I've got my eye on you.) If so, I'm not sure I want to talk music with you. 

Now that I've explained why we won't like each other's music, I shall explain why I do love TWSO. Here's my By Definition Incomplete Because You Can't Explain the Ineffable List:

1. It's melodic. ("Sunrise", "Relax", "Rael") Melody is a weakness of mine. Like dark chocolate. 
2. It's got one of the all-time great (see? I'm doing it, too!) Who songs "I Can See for Miles", which, although it packs a punch, isn't even the high point.
3. It's funny (dirty jokes like "Mary Anne...", silly commercials, tattoos and "Odorono" a beautiful love song whose plot hinges on deodorant, etc.) I'm a Monty Python fan, and a big proponent of silliness, which may disprove the idea that all humor starts in misfortune.
4. To balance this all out, it's got some real feeling, like "Sunrise", which is a great love song, as is "Our Love Was, Is". Both have relatively little instrumentation, so sonically they provide contrast. Plus, I'm a big softy at heart.
5. For a concept album, it's quite unpretentious, since the concept itself is so ridiculous: it's meant to sound like you're listening to the AM radio. Not FM. The reason most prog rock wears thin after a while is that it's so serious. That kind of thing is perfect for most teenagers (with me absolutely included). But the true wisdom that comes with age punctures pretention.
6. It portends Tommy in the best possible way. "Rael" uses a Tommy motif or two (and on the CD version, "Glow Girl" gives a twist to the opening line to Tommy). Some may disagree and find this to be Pete Townshend recycling material, which is understandable given how many versions of Tommy he's come up with over the years. But it's done so well here I give him a pass on it.
7. Great production. Which to me means that the production serves the music. By the way, Tommy has "great" production, too, even if the Who themselves don't think so. It's relatively muted compared to TWHO, as it should be since it's the story of a deaf and dumb boy.
8. It may have saved my life. Many years ago I stayed up all night working on a creative writing assignment. I usually put on music when I would do this. At one point I put on Randy Newman's first album which immediately made me want to give up and kill myself right then and there. Perhaps I should explain why. I'm a big RN fan but that first album is forbidding. Just a case of absolutely wrong album at the absolutely wrong time. I followed it up with TWSO, which completely turned my mood around. Thanks, Pete!
9. The overall mood is joy. Not the religious/reverent kind or the whoop dee doo kind or the sixties vibe that barely survived the mid-seventies. Just joy, perhaps for just being alive, or for the ability these young people had to pull this kind of thing off. I need all the joy I can get.

This list is not meant to persuade you. It's just an explanation of why it works for me. 

Beyond the content of the album itself, there's also the matter of timing. It came out in early 1968 but I didn't hear it until 1982. Had the ten-year-old me heard it when it was first released, I would not have appreciated the "commercials" (like how my brother-in-law objected to the "commercials" in Robocop). The music itself might have been lost in the post Sgt Pepper tidal wave, kind of how the Stones' Their Satanic Majesties Request was relegated - unfairly - to the back ranks of Stones albums. Or worse, my peers may have dismissed it, thus relegating it to "quaint embarrassment" status.

Instead, the 25-year-old me heard it long after the last trace of sixties euphoria died away. And it provided a jolt/reminder that that euphoria was not a figment of my imagination. 

So, what about your GOAT? Did you hear it when it was released? That would imply you were hearing it with your friends and a community of listeners can certainly move something up the all-time list.

How old were you? Were you a dumb ten-year-old like me? Or a slightly less dumb 25-year-old like me?

What was going on in your life? Were you in a bad place? Or maybe a joyful place? What specific memories will this music trigger? 

Since I wasn't there, your favorite album is bound to hit me differently. Who knows, though. I might end up loving it. If so, it would be for completely different reasons.

Anyway, here is the The Who Sell Out as it was originally released.

And here's the expanded version, which if anything improves the original, which has got to be a first.

So, today's assignment is to listen to each one, oh let's say 5,000 times each, and let me know what you think.

Heroes and GOATS, Part 2: More Words About Buildings and Food (On Fire)

Disclaimer:

When we last left off, I was disingenuously pontificating (really, is there any other way to do it?) about heroes, heroism, and sandwiches, roughly in that order. 

And it only gets worse from here. But before it does, let me first provide you with a mini reward for your patience so far. Enjoy. (And even here, they can't avoid compiling a GOAT goat list.)

Anyway, the whole thing came about when I tried to shoehorn together two unrelated thoughts via a bad pun. Sadly, it's not the most desperate thing I've done.

Well, in for a penny, in for another penny, I say. So let's now look at the other side of the coin.

GOATS:

It's past time that I brought up the whole Greatest Of All Time concept, at least as it applies to albums. 

And - as usual - the internet is taking a questionable-to-begin-with concept and making it even worse.  Sound familiar? 

I'll limit my annoyance to Twitter for now and just say that whether it's a pathetic bachelor in his pajamas/ mom's basement/fifties, or a soul-less marketing bot, both seem intent on pushing fairly lame records as GOATs, or at least underappreciated masterpieces.

Narrator's voice: But man has been thrusting his musical preferences upon his fellow man from time immemorial, and in this first scenario (let's call it "Scenario 1") Jaybee plays the protagonist/victim:

It was early in 1987 and I was minding my business at work when this otherwise nice guy (we'd bonded over the '86 Mets) marched up to me, raving about this great song I just had to hear. (Pro Tip: If anyone ever approaches you wielding that phrase, do yourself a huge favor and fake a heart attack, because you can be pretty sure you don't have to hear it.) He'd come armed with a loaded cassette player and headphones, cornered me by my desk, and insisted I listen. To this, it turned out.

Not quite 30 years old, I was into what we'd now call alternative rock. You know, jangly guitars, Michael Stipe mumbling, that sort of thing, etc. This song was slow and stately. The quivering-with-emotion vocal demonstrated excellent enunciation (something I always look for in a song). The basic melody was okay, if a bit exhausting with all the jumping from one octave to another higher one. Music as mountain climbing. Overall, the song was insisting upon itself, while my taste ran to music that was, if anything, ashamed of itself.

The Red Lady just wasn't doing it for me.  I'm not saying it's a bad song. It just wasn't my jam, as the young people say. Perhaps you might like it. Maybe even love it. It might even be on your GOAT list. It just isn't on mine.

But there was my friend, staring at me, stunned by my meh reaction. He slinked away with his cassette player between his legs, shaking his head, wondering how this could possibly be, while I called out behind him "Hey, it's not you, it's me!"

Narrator's Voice: In this second scenario (which we will call "Scenario 2") Jaybee, having not really learned anything the first time around, is now the perpetrator:

It was the late 1990s, or so. I was in the backyard prepping the barbeque for my in-laws who were visiting. As usual, I had music on, and this time it was the then recently re-released, expanded CD version of what I consider the greatest album of all time: The Who Sell Out. 

My niece Sara, then in her late teens, came out to the backyard to bring me barbecue sauce or a fire extinguisher, I forget which. Serendipitously, at that very moment, "Relax" - possibly the most sublime song on the album - was playing. What a moment! The best song on the best album is playing, and since music is universal we were about to experience a major musical bonding across the generations, right?

Well, I peered at her through the smoke to focus on her reaction to the song. Nothing. Maybe a wave to the fireman, but that was it. That is, until later, when, while drying off, I overheard her giving her statement "... my uncle was listening to some corny-ass music when he caught on fire".

Now, after spending these many years telling you about the music I love, I realize I'm just another guy armed with a cassette player, or in my case, a pack of hot dogs. And that your listening to my all time favorite album might only leave you perplexed / mystified. Here. Try it right now.

See what I mean? (Of course, I'm assuming you're not jumping around your house in/on ecstasy.)

Why meh? Music's universal, right? Well, I hate to tell you this, but no.

Let me repeat that: MUSIC IS NOT UNIVERSAL.

I know. You're thinking Wait just one second Jaybee! As brilliant as you are, you may have finally gone off the rails here. OF COURSE, Music Is Universal.

To which I say, no, music is barely local.

Let's take food as an example. Food is universal, right? We all have to eat, don't we? And we have figured out how to make it an enjoyable experience. But that doesn't mean we're all going to enjoy all of the same things (with the obvious exception of certain hot Italian sandwiches). 

Do we all like Indian and Japanese and Thai and Mexican and Spanish, etc.? Probably not. We each have our favorite types of food, but even within those types, there are some dishes we don't care for. 

So while the enjoyment of music is something that's universal. There are very few musical moments that are universal. Some songs. Maybe some albums? Bands? The only one I can think of is Sly and the Family Stone, circa 1969. And since then, we've let ourselves be split up into our different little market segments anyway, so that one barely counts. There are even Beatle-haters.

Outside of one's teens years - when our tastes are still forming - it's quite rare to hear something that profoundly changes your musical preferences. No matter how good a song may be, if it's outside our comfort zone, we're more likely to hear just the most basic formal elements (instrumentation, singing style, beat, etc.) of the genre rather than the specifics of that piece of music - and just enough of those for us to fit it into the stereotype we already have of that genre. At which point, we say "it all sounds the same". Of course it does, dummy!

My niece heard a band from the sixties singing a very sixties melody with very sixties chord changes, etc. Why would she like it? Back then she was listening to her version of the sixties, which, in her mind, is better than mine. And she is correct.

So you might ask Jaybee,what would it take for me to expand my horizons and become wise like you?

As I once told Pink Floyd before they were famous, "It takes Time."

Decade: More Fun in the Old World

Last time out I gave you some lame post about the decade in genres. It was really just my way of putting off compiling my Actual Best of the Decade List(s).

Well, I’m doing it again. I will persist in my procrastination by now providing you with a couple of lists that almost by definition are about music from prior decades, but the point is that they happened to me in this decade.


Best Throwbacks:

These are albums I’m somewhat familiar with but never got around to actually owning until now. I don’t like judging them against records that I’m hearing for the first time because, on the one hand, they’re somewhat better for having been around this long. But, weirdly, they sometimes contain filler - the parts you didn’t hear on the radio, and the good parts are a bit played out - and that makes them mortal. I don’t want to overreact to those flaws.

Because of these ad/disadvantages, I’d rather just judge them now by how much fun they provided me this time around:

1. Rolling Stones - Singles Collection  This could easily have ended up on top of the list below, but I’m familiar with so much of it already, that wouldn’t have been fair. This is great for long car trips.
2. Joni Mitchell: Court And Spark  (1974) A fantastic album. The songs I hadn’t gotten into before are almost all great.
3. The Who - Live at Leeds (Expanded Edition)  This expanded edition gives a fuller picture of the Who than the original. They were a POP band, people!
4. Harry Nilsson: Nilsson Schmilsson (1971) Harry comes through big time on his less well-known songs.
5. The Kinks: Lola  (1970) Ray does, too. And Dave.
6. The Monkees: The Best of  What can I say? Of course the version in my head is better, but so is yours.
7. Brian Eno: Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy) (1974)  The sound on the CD isn’t much better than the original vinyl but that’s okay. Time may have finally caught up to this deeply weird record.  🌶🌶 
8. Tom Verlaine: Tom Verlaine (1979)  It’s not Television but it’s very good.
9. Jefferson Airplane: The Worst of  I really needed to hear this, even after having chipped away at it with Volunteers and Baxters. A very consistent record from a very good, but I’m not convinced, great band.
10. And tied for 10th: 
• Aretha Franklin: I Never Loved a Man Like You, Or Lady Soul, or Aretha Now. The experience is much the same. Some filler but mostly galvanic.
• Yes: Fragile/Close to the Edge  My first 8 Track tape, and just so much fun.
• Traffic: John Barleycorn Must Die (Expanded) (1970)  Great album, lousy live songs on the extended version.
• Graham Nash: Songs for Beginners (1971) As lovely a record as I remember. Joni must have run over him like a truck. His loss. Our gain. Thanks, Joni!
• David Crosby: If I Could Only Remember My Name (1971) A lot of people hated this record when it first came out. I liked it then. I like it now. What’s NOT to like, I wonder. He didn’t even have a gun then.

Compilations:

1. Belle and Sebastian: Push Barman to Open Old Wounds So fragile, so beautiful.
2. Robyn Hitchcock and the Egyptians: Greatest Hits The album that proves this alleged weirdo should have been an FM staple.
3. The Chills: Kaleidoscope World  Ah, if only the internet was around then, these super melodic, chiming songs would have gone viral. 
4. James Brown: Star Time This is daunting for an old white guy but worth the effort. If you think it all sounds the same why do you like the Ramones?? 
5. Brian Jonestown Massacre: Tepid Peppermint Wonderland  If you can forget what a narcissistic junkie asshole the guy leads the band is you can really enjoy this late sixties-style psychedelic rock 'n roll.
6. Various Artists: Ocean of Sound Yeah, weird as hell. I love it but know what you’re getting into!  🌶🌶🌶 
7. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds: Lovely Creatures Another purported British weirdo who does some pretty straightforward, passionate rock 'n roll.
8. Leonard Cohen: Essential   A lot to take in one sitting but great for studying.
9. Various Artists: American Epic  Basically another version of An Anthology of American Folk Music, but with better liner notes and sound.
10. And tied for 10th: 
• Taj Mahal: The Best of 
• Blur: Best of 
• Robert Forster: Intermission 
• The Chantels: The Best of 
• Grin: The Best of 
• King Sunny Ade: The Best of the Classic Years  🌶
• Franco and Le Tpok Jazz: Francophonic  🌶

Okay, so much for genres, compilations and throwbacks. Next time it gets real(er).

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?

Top One or Two Hundred All Time Whatevers

Act One of my One Act Play:

You: Happy 200th post Jaybee!

Me: Thanks!  Hey, wait a minute! That means I completely forgot about commemorating my 100th post. Why didn’t you remind me?

You, contrite: Sorry Jaybee!

Me, gracious as always: That’s okay.

THE END

Ooops! I Missed a Spot Post!

So what the hell happened to my #100 post? If I’m counting correctly, this is it. 

Nothing special, but theoretically appropriate in that it covers the year I was 15 years old. That’s supposedly when your brain gets permanently wired for the music you’re going to love all your life.

Not true for me though. In my case, it was when I was six (Beatles) and then again when I was twenty-one (punk).

So I really dropped the ball on that one.

Some Sound, Not Much Fury, Signifying Meh:

So, does 100 or 200 of anything have a special significance for me?

Well, my 100th album seems to be 4-Way Street, which is indicative of nothing except that it was in 1974, when I was starting to buy lots of records.

My 200th album was Warren Zevon, which I got right around the our nation’s 200th Anniversary. Ooooh! 

I was hoping for something poetic/resonant/thematic here, but will settle for this eerie yet boring coincidence.

So before I get distracted again, and forget that this is my #200 post, I thought I’d make up for my prior omission by doing something special. Something so ambitious, and yet so unstructured and drawn out as to - as Saddam Hussein once said - astound my friends and terrify my enemies. The Mother of All Lists, if you will.

We’re all fond of describing things as the Best/Worst (fill in the blank) Ever. Well, at least Comic Book Guy is. He can be a little too specific for me, so I’m leaving myself some wiggle room.

I was going to call this “The One Or Two Hundred All-time Coolest Happenings Ever” but the acronym for that is TOOTHACHE, so instead, let’s call it “The One or Two Hundred of the Greatest Things Ever: Songs, Records, Guitar Solos, Whatever. Not Albums, though, because I’m always talking about albums. Not people, either.”  (TOOTHOTGTE, etc.... seems pretty safe.)  

I’ll even include the odd non-music related thing, if indeed, such a thing exists.

My Head Exploded, But in a Good Way

One criteria for making the list is that the thing threatens to make your head explode, but in the nice way.  You know what I’m talking about. It’s like a form of good bumps, only it happens on your scalp. And you brain doesn’t splatter the sidewalk.

And when it happens several times in succession, as it did for me recently - twice(!) in public(!!) - you either react in an embarrassing manner (see below) or create a list like this.

Positive music experiences in public rarely happen to me. So when they do, I sit up and take notice. My hope is to just not get pissed off at what I’m hearing. Actually enjoying myself is a small miracle. These two occasions were that and much more.

The first time was at a Starbucks in Philadelphia. We walked in, got our hot chocolates, sat down and suddenly it was as though they were trying to chase out anyone under 50 years old. Usually, it’s the other way around. Anyway, they play Joni Mitchell’s “The Circle Game” and bunch of other songs I keep on a CD labeled “Miserable”, which I burned after a very depressing election.

Perhaps because I’d been softened up the night before by watching the American Masters episode about Phil Ochs, one song after another hit some deep emotional button to the point that I had to get up and leave on the pretext of getting a crossword puzzle from the van. Crying in public is not cool when you’re in your fifties.

And then it happened again later that year at The Mermaid’s Inn in the East Village. This time things were poppier but no less powerful. I realized that there are some songs that weren’t just great. They were part of me.

So this will be my outlet - those songs, records, Moments that Just. Kill. Me.

Worst. Best of Lists. Ever.

I have no intention of reaching or limiting myself to 100 or 200. If I stretch it out enough I should finish by about post 300, which will be my excuse to continue this futile exercise that I’m only doing because, as Louie says, God is Dead and We’re Alone.

I make no claim that this will matter to you one bit. These are merely transcendent (to me) moments. They are what keep me alive. What makes my agnostic soul believe with all my heart.

By the way, the numbers are not rankings. They just help me keep count. Young people can blog up stuff like this at a moment’s notice. I just don't have the energy.  

And really, how wrong can I be?  Every day I see another stupid Best of article:

• Rolling Stones albums that didn’t include Aftermath in the top 10.
• A Top 5 Dylan list that didn’t include Blonde on Blonde or John Wesley Harding.
• A Worst-to-Best REM list that had Out of Time as an almost-worst.
• A Best Scorsese movie list that placed After Hours above The Departed. (Are You Freaking Kidding Me?)
• And finally, an “Embarrassing Moments” list where what qualified were songs by rockers who momentarily drop their guard and show some real emotion.

So, as I say, how wrong can I be?

So here goes.

First Ten:

1. A Hard Day’s Night

But why not start at the top I say?

Starting with the Chord of the F*cking Century (not exactly but so what?) moving on to characteristically energetic singing by John of a virtually one note melody. But that’s okay, the chord changes do all the work, shifting around as the song charges forward.

And then.

And then.

It Comes.

What may be the Greatest Moment In The History of Western Civilization: 

When Paul comes in to sing the first line of the bridge (When I’m home..), kicking it all up a notch immediately by virtue of his higher vocal range. But that’s not enough. The second line takes the melody even higher, and still higher, until “Baby you’re holding me tight, Tight!”, which as philosophical statement beats the hell out of any ism we’ve come up with so far.  

The Sixties had officially begun.

I will generally stay away from the Beatles for this list, but sometimes it’s like trying to stay away from breathing…

2. Witchita Lineman

Not a complicated melody by any stretch, but the chord changes that accompany it are so dramatic they take your breath away. The lyrics are just vague enough to keep you wondering what the hell it’s about. And the strings are never overbearing, never cheesy. But a so-so vocal would have wasted it all. Instead Glen sings with such conviction and longing that I will fight anyone to the death who laughs.  I’ve demanded silence in shopping malls when it’s played there.  

And I get it.

3. September Gurls:

Okay, I know. I keep harping on this song. And even if you’ve heard it,  you like the Bangles version. But you’re wrong. The Bs do a fine job of emulating middle-period Beatles with that speeded up guitar solo that serves to remind you of the speeded up piano solo of “In My Life”. It is “excellent”!

But “excellent” just isn’t good enough for this list.

Listen to Big Star’s version. You could mistake it for a merely great pop song until, oh, about thirty seconds in where you get the Chord of the F*cking Decade. (The 70s that is.) This will be followed by Alex Chilton’s completely unhinged guitar solo. Not technically brilliant, mind you. Just a few random strums, but completely un-self-consciously off the wall and purely emotional - unfiltered by “taste” or “intellect”.  

Alex Chilton also sings it in a higher(!) key than the Bangles. He of "The Letter" fame! So he’s playing for bigger stakes than the Bs dare to, even with their sly lesbian angle. Alex is singing an autumnal song like an adolescent, convincingly!

Then he finishes it all off with an ever more seriously disturbed solo that doesn’t quite end when when song does.

And for that moment we see him. The artist Naked.

4. Dancing Queen

“Muriel’s Wedding” brought me dangerously close to getting sick of this song.  But I recovered.  Glitzy, over produced, utterly commercial.  And stunningly beautiful.  The part of the chorus beginning with “You can dance” rivals the bridge in "A Hard Day’s Night" in sheer joy.

5. Walk Away Renee

Before I owned this record, coming upon it on the radio meant that whatever else was going on had to stop. I’m so glad it wasn’t playing in Labor and Delivery when my kids were born.   

Now that I have the record, I do notice that the background singing isn’t as good as it could be and the sound could be a lot cleaner.  And yet, I’m sure that if a version existed that addressed those problems, I wouldn’t love it nearly as much as I do the original.  

And the words!  It would have been nice to know them - the singer isn’t trying very hard to enunciate.  But now that I know what they are, I realize the song is more effective without me knowing.  An overwhelming emotion that can’t be expressed in mere words. They come close, though.

And the melody!  Was it simply handed down from heaven to Michael Brown? The strings certainly were.

6. She’s Not There

As much as I love rock and roll, I’d be the first to admit it’s very simple music and the musicians are not always up to even that. And yet, here we are in 1964 with Rod Argent playing a bitchin’ electric piano solo. And how about that pretty nifty melody in the verse, which suddenly switches to virtually a single note during the chorus, but there’s that harmony that works it and works it and works it. Along with the time shifts, key changes, and the breathless tempo.

Okay, maybe not transcendent, but thrilling.

7. The Kid’s Are All Right

It’s a disgrace that the first time I heard this 1966 song was the little snippet at the beginning of that song on Quadraphenia in 1973. Thanks a lot FM and AM radio! HUGE fail.  

Anyway, when I finally caught up with it, I realized that Pete Townsend wasn’t a genius because he could do a rock opera. It was because he could write such a perfect pop song, which by the way, isn’t so because of the melody or the playing, even if  the harmonies and Roger Daltrey’s vocal are perfect. It’s because of the lyrics.  

I don’t think I’ve ever heard a song that better captures the insecurities, the camaraderie, the pain and the joy of being a teenager. The title, I think, is a f*ck you to adults who thought every teenager was a hoodlum. Pete always had their back. It’s “My Generation” again, only this time much sweeter.

8. Friday on My Mind

Of working class themed songs, “Summertime Blues” is the funny one. FOMM however is the keeper. It’s just so damned intense. Maybe the most intense rock song ever.  

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that the tempo is frantic.The key changes go higher and higher and the harmonies keep up with it. And great guitar riffs.

And the story: A working class guy who sounds like he’s right on the edge. When he promises to lose his head, you hope it’s in a good way. He bitches about his job, but for once, doesn’t take it out on his girlfriend, who he can’t wait to go out with.

9. The Circle Game

I don’t think I’ve ever heard a bad version of this song. Even Buffy St. Marie (sort of) kicks ass with it. But I’ll give the edge to Joni Mitchell’s.

Like some of  her other songs,  its theme is  trite,  in theory anyway. But she fills them with such evocative words and perfectly matching melodies that you’re too stunned to notice.

10. Dying to Live

I know you don’t know this one. That’s why I put it here! I have nothing to say about it that you can’t hear yourself. We can all be forgiven for not realizing how much soul Edgar Winter has, but not after hearing this.

To Be Continued:

I’ll stop to take a breath now.

I’ll give the rest to you in bunches, or individually, as the mood, logic or alcohol dictates.

These songs are at such a level of perfection that you’re forced to stop whatever you’re doing and just let yourself be carried along with them. 

I think it's what we mean when we say God.

I Know You Are But What Am I?

Arctic Monkeys Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not

I put off getting this for a while, thinking the title pouty on the order of Pee Wee Herman.

And when I finally did get it, it was on the same day I got Live at Leeds which I ended up enjoying so much, I almost forgot I had this.

And how could it not suffer in comparison? After LAL, this came across just a bit too busy for me. I was expecting something punkier. It turns out to focus more on rhythm and words than power chords. Almost a ska-less, rockier but less tuneful Specials.

So I miss the tunes, but grew more respectful of what I was hearing once I saw them slow it down enough to do a cover of Tame Impala’s “Seems Like We Only Go Backwards” and realized I’d need to give these guys some more time.  And every time I’d put it on I’d hear another good line I missed before.

The words concern young British louts hanging out. And they’re pretty articulate about it, too, in that lower class British but pretty smart anyway way. So much so that it helps makes the music come across less generic than it seems.

But the band it tight! I admire how taut each song is. You can imagine them impatiently waiting to spring forward into into the next song. They must be great live, where all of their strengths would be on full display.

But admiration is not love, and I just don’t find myself coming back to this, like say the Parquet Courts, who are not quite as tight (or articulate) but a lot more tuneful (if you count riffs as tunes, that is)  

And it only fits certain moods, like when you want to burn down your neighbor’s house. Which I only want to do sometimes.  And only the one with the barking dog.

B+

“The View From the Afternoon”