Containing, among other things, my humble effort to bring my fellow sixty(ish) year olds up to date on some current, and frankly, not so current, pop music.
Musically and politically, better than 2021. Personally stressful.
Abstract:
Slightly fewer fascists than expected in the Senate, but alas, they're in charge of it.
An excellent year in music. Women continue to damn near dominate. Few Masterpieces (frankly, they're usually overrated anyway). Just lotsa good rekkids.
Best Humans:
Volodymyr Zelensky
Jacinda Ardern
Greta Thunberg
Worst Humans:
Vladimir Putin
Ron DeSantis
MTG
Lauren Boebert
Alex Jones
Matt Gaetz
George Santos
Best Books:
All the Marvels by Douglas Wolk: Having loved Marvel comics from 1965-1975 this was like manna from heaven. A celebration of great storytelling.
The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas: You have got to read the 1,300-page unabridged version, with a translation by Robin Buss. I'm a notoriously slow reader and yet I polished this off in three weeks. Rife with ludicrous plot twists and fantastical coincidences, this was an absolute delight to read.
Best Movies:
The Banshees of Inisherin
The Batman
Glass Onion
This might just be a list of what movies I saw. What can I say? I don't get out much.
Best TV:
Better Call Saul
Barry
The White Lotus
What can I say? I don't stay in much, either. (I spend a lot of time in the vestibule.)
Best Concerts:
None
Maybe I'm spending too much time in the vestibule.
Music Awards:
Most Work (But Worth it):
Schubert Leider: Sure, it will never be in my top 10, but I'm glad I've heard it.
Most Work (And Possibly Not Worth It):
Arnold Schoenberg: Verklärte Nacht is the single piece of music I listened to the most this year, and I'm still not sure if I like it or not. Save it for a World History Project post, I say!
Most Surprising (and Not Necessarily in a Good Way):
And a lot more not far behind! Another year with a bunch of also-rans. A good sign!
Some of the best songs I heard this year can be found here.
Conclusions:
A stressful year. Some drink more or smoke more. I listen more, which resulted in a lot of new records, plenty of which I haven't even mentioned. I hope I'll have a chance to.
The musical present seems pretty good but there's so much of it, I'm finding it necessary to wait it out a bit to let the wheat separate from the hype. Hence, I've been spending more and more time delving into the past, where that separation has already occurred.
"Heatwave" by Martha and the Vandellas is a real snappy number, but the word itself no longer has the same attraction. It's just too damn oppressive to be very sexy.
The message of "Summer in the City" by the Lovin' Spoonful - maybe the greatest summer song ever - is that despite the heat, it'll be all right.
And "Summer Breeze"? No! Seriously, f*ck its overplayed ass.
It would be nice to still, as we did as youngsters, think of summer as a three-month preview of heaven. Most of us not living in temperate (meaning, not yet impacted by climate change) areas don't see it as a time to relax, have fun and get a tan. It's a ninety-three-day ordeal of humidity, sirens, explosions we hope are fireworks, and PEOPLE WHO TALK TOO LOUD. (No, not "loudly". LOUD.) And, worst of all, pale old white men in cargo shorts.
So I can't wait for autumn. That dry, cooler (but still sunny) calm idyll, when you have to wear a light jacket, which just happens to hide your gut.
This is all to explain why - aside from hearing these records during the summer, I am hearing these records as being "summer music" in both the best and worst senses.
Why summer music? As I learned on my honeymoon - when I finally got it - reggae goes well with hot weather. It's slow because it's too friggin hot to play (or dance) any faster.
Lucky for me (if not the planet) I've had more than enough hot sticky summers to catch up.
This one didn't immediately grab me the way Catch a Firedid. This one does have its share of classics but is more laid back. And the production is not as clean or immediate. But once I gave it half a chance the songs rose up to meet my ears. And each one sticks.
I play it a lot in the mornings before the A/C kicks in.
A sort of greatest hits collection by this British trio is largely - but not exclusively - dance music. It's light, quick, and playful, so, on the surface, it's "fun". Like what summer is supposed to be. But it's also a little sad, like what summer too often is.
It starts with heresy - a dance version of "Only Love Can Break Your Heart" - which turns out to be pretty damn good. And then it goes on balancing dance arrangements with good tunes.
It may be too much of a good thing, though. Two filled-to-the-brim CDs add up to two and a half hours of music. It can't help but get a bit repetitive. In other words, a perfect fit for those looooooonng summer afternoons.
YLT can rival reggae in its languor. Despite their potential for the guitar freakout so beloved by the younger set, it's downright admirable how often YLT just chills, which as time goes by is more and more beloved by me.
Their ability to pull off either is reminiscent of the Velvet Underground. And their pinnacle - I Can Hear the Heart Beat as One- is the perfect balance of both styles.
On this one, they favor the chill. Out of ten songs, there are only two outright rockers. The rest are either folkish or light pop bordering-on-Easy Listening, often sung in a whisper a la "Girl From Impanema".
Thank god husband and wife team Ira Kaplan and Georgia Hubley write such simple beautiful songs, and apply the most subtle harmonies to bring out the best of them, that you sometimes can't believe it's an original and not a cover.
So what may at first seem like a deliberate dare for you to dismiss them turns out to be evidence of YLT's great faith in their listeners to stick around. I definitely will. From the midtempo rockish opener to the wistful horns fade out at the very end.
It's the sound of the end of a good day when the temperature drops a wee bit and there's a hint of a breeze.
Just a young woman singing her songs, with nary a guitar, bass, or drums in sight (although the pictures indicate otherwise). And not dance music either. Just sweet mid-tempo pop music.
Mrs. Jaybee always guesses this one correctly when I put it on. And sometimes actually requests it! Now that is saying something.
Short, sweet, and wistful, you fear it might just waft away. In fact, it's so single-mindedly tuneful (if not exactly hooky) that it never does. One after another the songs unfurl, each one as good as the last.
A guitar does poke its head out at the end, in just the right place.
I feel like I can still ask this question since it’s f*cking 80 degrees out still.
But let's go back four months, when the Jaybee family did its typical Father’s Day routine by getting Mr. Jaybee a bunch of records.
And Jaybee himself did his best to ensure they would be “summer-y” albums. (The whole thing is stage-managed to within an inch of its life, thanks to amazon.com wish lists, shopping carts, etc.)
And how did I do? Pretty good, actually. Not everything is as summery as I would have expected but it didn’t keep me from listening.
One of the themes I couldn’t help but notice (as a rule, I'm too dense to notice these things) is that a few of these artists would end up shaking off some of their original weirdness and go on to make better records. I’m usually pretty skeptical of that strategy since it’s usually their weirdness that put them on the map to begin with.
But it worked for Car Seat Headrest, the New Pornographers and Jens Lekman, and I benefited from that happy turn of events.
I’d avoided this one for a while because I assumed the title referred to the extreme guitar noise that Ira Kaplan is inclined toward. But on this one, he holds back a bit on that, and only lets loose during the climax.
Instead, YLT dig deep into that 60s garage rock sound. So the melodies and classic chord structures don’t seem very original but when you’re mining such a rich vein, it’s got its nostalgic pleasures. Ira Kaplan’s got a brilliant 1960s songwriter in him, or at least one tied up in his basement.
On the other hand, there are themes here that I’ve heard on other YLT albums, which makes this one less than essential, which isn’t fair since this one came first.
But such is life. And knowing me, I’ll come to love this is six months.
My first stab at a current year record. Last time I checked out this guy, he was doing his best to imitate a tacky overwrought 60s lounge singer, and succeeded! To a point.
Here he tones down the melodrama a bit, and sticks to very straightforward, almost inevitable melodies. There’s still a deceptively bland style, but the lyrics keep me paying attention, and the accompaniment is perfect.
Which means by making those little adjustments, he makes a great record. So even when he edges toward lounge singer-ness, I’m fine with it.
No, not a best of. How could that be? Nobody’s heard of them. They mean the other kind of singles.
I got this one blind. No recommendations other than from those questionable raves on amazon.com.
This is wimpy synth-based dance pop, so I should really hate it.
Plus, the singer is semi-constipated (is that a thing? Note to self, google it.) The first listen was one of fascinated horror.
But on the second spin, I began to notice that those synths were just this side of the line dividing tasteful from cheesy.
And the singer isn’t a bad guy. Maybe a bit too dramatic. But his voice beats the hell out of those nasally, choked vocals of Brits like Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet, who are trying to simulate a feeling, whereas this guy - limitations and all - is actually feeling them.
Turns out they’re from Baltimore! No, that can’t be right. But it says so right there.
What the heck is going on here? I don’t know, but I like it. (Well, I admire it more than like it, but I like it a hell of a lot.)
The arrangements are melancholy to the point of almost being...soulful. And for some nerdy white boys from Baltimore, that’s saying something.
After being completely bowled over by last year’s Teens of Denial, I felt I owed it to frontman Will Toledo to try out his band’s first record.
And while it’s not quite as stunning as TOD, it is, in fits and starts, brilliant. If anything it’s even more melodic. If only he wasn't yelling from inside an airplane hangar... TOD is clearer, more varied and more consistent. The excesses here have to do with the lo-fi sound. It does lend itself to the overall effect. It's just not a long-range career option, but he knew that.
And it does mean he’s going for broke every time.
Another one dipping into the 1960s pool, but going Yo La Tengo one better, because instead of it sounding like fond memories of someone else's music, this is Car Seat Headrest all the way, and a lot of it is indelible.
And to prove it, here is my current nomination for best song of my year:
Here's another shot at current year music. And it pays off big-time.
I have the NP's first album which is like a kitchen sink rush of sounds and ideas - both weird and exhilarating. It worked great almost all the time, but you would only put it on for special occasions.
Here they damp down the weirdness a bit (ah, that theme again!), and single-mindedly focus on pleasure. The songs are tuneful, the singing is excellent (what do you want when you’ve got Neko Case?) and the playing - especially the drumming - is tight as hell.
So much fun you’ll feel guilty.
Given all the praise I’ve dumped upon a number of other albums this year, it might seem strange that this one gets the only straight “A” so far. It’s a combination of factors. One being consistency - all the songs are really good. Another is that this one is in my favorite genre - melodic pop-rock. Then they’re Neko Case’s voice which is lovely, even if it never quite hits the highs of Fox Confessor. And every time I make out the lyrics above the insistent drumming and ever energetic band, I hear jokes, wordplay and general cleverness, which is something I treasure.
Or maybe it's because I just got back from Canada. Ay!
I’m finally getting around to my 2015 round up. Just before people forget there was a 2015, I hope.
It was a long, frustrating year, where I got about forty albums and very, very few of them managed to bowl me over. I was beginning to think I was losing my taste for music.
And other things. It took Mrs. Jaybee to remind me of that wonderful trip to Italy and Son Michael’s graduation (more on him later) that it wasn’t such a bad year after all.
But still, musically, I’m left a little less than ecstatic, and I’m looking for my receipt for 2015 so that I can return it.
My Ears Are Bigger Than My Head (Literally True!)
Dear 2015, it’s not you, it’s me.
You see, I’m in a cycle that goes like this:
I buy a lot of music.
I lean towards exploration instead of the familiar.
Then I complain that nothing hitd me right away.
So I go and get more music to make up for that.
This is dumb. (And may be a poem, too.) I mean, what did I expect?
But then I think about an individual song or album I have that I feel very lucky to have. Then I think about how many records I have that fit that description. You’d think there would be enough of it by now. Apparently not.
And really, how much do I need? I still haven’t answered that question satisfactorily. And even if 2015 was disappointing, I can’t imagine not getting new music in 2016.
Lack of Resolution:
So How Did I Do with My 2015 Resolutions? Great, because I didn’t make any, having so resoundly failed on my 2014 ones. I even repeated those failures in 2015: More new music than ever, 75% of it CDs (thanks to my amazon.com boycott) which now having taken over the CD rack completely, are expanding blitzkrieg-like into the bookshelf,
I did manage four records from 2015, two of them thanks to son Michael. One he bought and one he made!
So, no resolutions. They - along with self improvement in general - are way overrated.
Second Thoughts, or Regrets? I’ve Had a Few:
I gave all my 2015 records another listen to see if I’ve changed my mind about anything. Especially the ones that disappointed me. Mostly no.
Ex Hex: Rips - Expertly played punk/hard rock I could swear I heard before and probably did so why bother?
The Clean: Anthology Almost ditto link. Every (well, almost every) cut is unique and worthwhile, but by the middle of the second disk I feel as though I’ve been left to wander the wilds of New Zealand without a guide. It can be fun, but there may be better things to do. (Ocean of Sound is kind of like that too, but since the whole point of that record is to get lost, it wouldn’t be fair to criticize it for that).
Music from the HBO Film As You Like It - A lovely main theme sprinkled repetitively throughout “movie music”. I probably would have been fine with getting the individual track. (An idea whose time has come, by the way. Buy more individual songs, thus avoiding disappointing albums. Hey, I've got a resolution after all!) Not bad, mind you. Just nothing I’d reach out to because I’m never in the mood for it.
Top Tens(e):
While patting myself on the back that I managed a handful of actual 2015 albums this year, it’s still pretty paltry compared to Nutboy’s list. He to 2015 and managed seven (7. Josh Ritter - Sermons on the Mount, 6. Blur - Magic Whip, 5. Craig Finn - Faith in the Future, 4. Wilco - Star Wars 3. Courtney Barnett - Sometimes I Sit, 2. Sufjan Stevens - Carrie and Lowell, 1. Bob Dylan - The Cutting Edge . Vol.12)
He did the same with movies, too. (10. Inside Out .. 9. Sicario 8. Love and Mercy 7. Steve Jobs 6. Creed 5. Spotlight 4. Amy 3. The Revenant 2. The Big Short 1. Mad Max - Fury Road)
I only managed to see two movies this year. (Another resolution. Get out more!)
I’d hit back with a top ten list of books (none from 2015 though) but I suspect he just didn’t bother to show off. The man really ought to have a blog, but he’s too busy with current year music and movies (ie, having a life, hmmm, another resolution here?)
and tied for tenth place Various Artists: Music from Shutter Island (2010), Yo La Tengo: Fakebook (1990), Withered Hand: New Gods (2014), Brian Eno/Harold Budd: The Pearl (1984), Wussy: Attica! (2014), Brian Eno/Daniel Lanois/Roger Eno: Apollo: Atmospheres and Soundtracks (1983)
Familiar music suffers in comparison to new music simply because it can’t have the same impact on me any more. Otherwise Aretha and Howlin Wolf might be all over the top of the list.
Very good music in my favorite genres (pop, rock n’ roll) outdoes obviously great music in other genres (R&B), again impacting Franklin and Wolf.
I’m getting more and more music for less and less money, but have a sneaking suspicion that the musicians themselves are getting less and less a share of it..
I’ve prided myself on opting for the new - getting an album by a new artist rather than one by one I’m already familiar with. This is educational, and leads me to new discoveries. But dang it, it’s not always as much fun.
The Year of What?
So what was 2015 the “year of” for me?
In a way, it was the Year of Music to Go to Bed To. Not Music to Have Sex By mind you. Music to listen to while reading in bed and about to go to sleep. There was a ton of stuff that fit this category : Ocean of Sound, The Pearl, And Then Nothing…, Stuff Like That There, Neu!, As You Like It, Shutter Island The list goes on.
The Year of Aretha? You’d think so. I got five Aretha Franklin albums in a single shot. (For $10 no less) They range from classic to very good. That’s pretty good, right? But those first two observations above knock her down a bit.
The Year of Yo La Tengo? Three albums ranging from nearly great to very good. And an almost transcendent show. Christ, I even met them. But not quite.
The Year of the Tribute Band?
Here’s my original take on why I find tribute bands - in principal - appalling.
The bottom line is, why would I want to pay to hear something like the music I like when I could listen to exactly the music I liked for free? If you want to hear a band, go put the record on. (Oh, come on, I know you have them!)
But I was underestimating the communal aspect of things. How better to enjoy music than with other like-minded people?
And besides, in two instances it inspired me to get more music by the artist. Once with a happy ending and once not so much. But the good more than made up for it.
The Smiths - A cover band that inspired me to get The Queen is Dead. Good show. Disappointing record.
PJ Harvey - Various artists did a tribute to Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea - A great album to hear played live, but since Mrs. Jaybee can’t stand Harvey I had to see this one alone.
The Beatles - The Fab Faux at the City Winery on New Years Eve. It could have been a big let down and even boring, but it was neither. A very emotional musical highlight of the year. And let’s face it. Every year since 1963 has been the Year of the Beatles, as far as I’m concerned. So that wouldn’t make 2015 unique, would it?
Brian Eno - Music for Enophiles, covering Eno’s semi-poppish 1974-79 period. Me and Mrs. Jaybee had a great time at this show. We were hearing songs live that we hadn’t heard even on record for years. And it inspired me to go even deeper into Eno’s catalogue.
When we last left off, Old Geezer Jaybee (a doubly redundant appellation if ever there was one) had a less than great time at a rock show. Less than great is still very good but Old Geezer Jaybee (heretofore labeled OGJ) spent good money on those seats and, dammit, he’s going to get his money’s worth. Every. Single. Dollar.
And woe be it to him or her that gets in his way, like that couple who were sort of necking (is that what the young folk call it these days?) and thus theoretically blocking Mrs. Jaybee’s view. Mrs. Jaybee was fine with it but that’s not the point! “Money’s worth” encompasses any and all members of the attending party. Luckily Mrs. Jaybee persuaded OGJ that she had an unobstructed view, thus preventing a scene.
The main problem, of course, was that OGJ hadn’t (notice how I’m talking about me like it’s some other loser?) familiarized himself sufficiently with the artist’s latest release. Plus, he had a beer, which, at his age means he’s going to fall asleep shortly. or get very cranky.
Even though he’d already spilt half of it on the brand new carpet at the beautifully restored Kings Theatre (even without going there you can tell it’s nice by the fancy way they spell theater) trying to navigate those elongated steps that no one can walk down gracefully to begin with,
It’s been about thirty five years since Nick first burst upon the scene. Oh, he’d been around far longer than that as part of Brinsley Schwarz. That’s when he wrote “What’s So Funny About Peace Love and Understanding”. He made some classic solo records, like Pure Pop for Now People
and Labour of Lust, play with Rockpile and produce several Elvis Costello albums.
But since that time, he’s moved away from the fast, witty pop music he’s known for, opting for a slower, more acoustic sound.
And although his new music is less compelling than the old, Nick was always a charmer and could have gotten by on that alone. Luckily he mixed in new versions of some old songs, and was more than good enough. He was the perfect opener, actually.
And how about Yo La Tengo?
They were wonderful.
I was afraid that going acoustic might mean that everyone would be sitting down in a circle. It sounds nice and intimate, but it gets boring real fast.
But there they all were, standing right at the front of the stage. Even drummer Georgia Hubley, with the simplest drum kit possible - a la Maureen Tucker of the Velvet Underground. But unlike Tucker, tonight Georgia would be using brushes more than sticks, and singing.
I’m beginning to think Ira Kaplan only owns one T-shirt, since he seemed to be wearing the same one from the release party and the bio picture on allmusic.com. His noise guitar was totally absent this night. He was content to stick to acoustic and let Dave Schramm do the electric heavy lifting
And Dave Schramm - the prodigal son returning - was brilliant, providing the touch that would give these acoustic songs reach depth and punch.
Bassist James McNew - like he told me at the release party - played stand up bass and managed to sing fantastically while doing so. He was worried about doing both. You did great, James!
You don’t expect such great music from such down to earth people, but the band was totally committed to both the sound and spirit of the new record, About 75% of the show came from either Fakebook or Stuff Like That There. I wasn’t familiar with the other 25% but it all sounded really good.
The highlight was “Deeper into Movies” - a rouser from I Can Hear the Heart Beating As One - done with quiet intensity. I could tell they were loving what they were doing. The crowd was loving it too.
I spent the whole time grinning like an idiot. I even knew it, but didn’t care.
The show ended with Nick Lowe joining YLT for a two-song encore. Nick picked one, and YLT the other. Ira dared the crowd to guess which was which but that was easy.
First came a slow mournful “Walk Away Renee”, which had to be Nick’s pick. Modest to a fault, of course he’d do someone else’s song. One that fit his current style well.
And the closer, picked by YLT? Why, a Nick Lowe song, of course. “The Rollers Show”. Not done in the ebullient style of the original. It was slower, but joyful nonetheless. It was like a great big thank you to Nick for all the inspiration he’s given over his career.
The crowd walked away very satisfied.
And Old Geezer Jaybee, for once, was one with the crowd.
This is Yo La Tengo’s Harvest Moon. And in the same way that record commemorated Harvest, this one commemorates Fakebook, which brought together covers, remakes of Yo La Tengo songs and new originals.
It’s more muted and consistent in tone though. There’s nothing very fast or loud. The production is better because even though they sing and play quietly, the sound is sharp and clear.
It lacks the highest highs of the former. The difference between these two records is youthful exuberance vs. older contentment.
The covers range from Hank Williams, Sun Ra, the Cure, the Lovin’ Spoonful and the Parliaments. Is that enough for you? And they manage to bring all of the disparate styles of the originals together into this very unified sounding record.
One of the weaknesses of Fakebook was Ira’s vocals, which sometimes weren’t up to the beauty of the songs. Here, Georgia is front and center and it works great! She sings just as softly, but it’s still singing, not whispering. She’s smooth as silk. Sort of like Astrud Gilberto.
I’m just now noticing now that the originals sprinkled throughout Fakebook are pretty great. The originals here are more of a piece with the overall tone and can fade into the background.
And the highs of Fakebook were a little higher that the best stuff here, but that’s okay. There are no clunkers here.
And "Deeper into Movies" - a remake of one of their pounders from Heart is brilliant.
Is this the same band? Is this the same song?? Yes and yes!
So you can choose which record to listen to based on your mood. I’ll probably choose Fakebook a little more often, especially in the morning. But that’s okay. I’m still glad this one’s around. And it’s better at night time.
If you picked up any of these records you could get a skewed idea of who YLT is and what they can do. I’m not sure myself anymore since I’ve only got five out of the sixteen or so albums I counted on allmusic. And aside from this one I’ve got nothing by them from the last fifteen years. But you can be damn sure I’ll be looking into it.
So aside from getting all those records (a very worthwhile idea in itself, I think) I’m as ready for the show as can be.
I was keeping my ears open for when the new Yo La Tengo record would be coming out when I got word that they’d be having an album release party at my favorite record store!
I dragged Son Michael with me because that’s what kids are for.
And there they were standing in the middle of the crowd. If you didn’t know what they looked like, you could have walked right past them. But a line was formed so they could autograph albums. By then even the most obtuse could figure out who was who.
So I bought a couple of records and got in line.
Guitarist and singer Ira Kaplan bore the brunt of my obnoxious questions with grace and kindness. Drummer and singer Georgia Hubley somehow balanced DJing, chatting and signing, Bassist James McNew was your pal who was happy to hang with you.
It turns out that their new album is a tribute to and re-visitation of an album they made twenty five years ago. So let’s start there.
"A fake book is a collection of musical lead sheets intended to help a performer quickly learn new songs. Each song in a fake book contains the melody line, basic chords and sometimes lyrics - the minimal information needed by a musician to make an impromptu arrangement of a song, or "fake it." The fake book is a central part of the culture of playing music in public, especially in jazz, where improvisation is particularly valued. Fake books are not intended for novices: the reader must follow and interpret the scant notation, and generally needs to have thorough familiarity with chords and sheet music. Fake books are often bound."
Wikipedia
Yo La Tengo have an encyclopedic knowledge of pop music. They often show up on WFMU marathons to play Stump the Band. I saw them in Prospect Park a few years ago where they did (I believe) an impromptu version of the Monkee's "Sweet Young Thing".
So it's no surprise that after only four years of recording original material, Yo La Tengo decided it was time to put together some obscure covers with some redone originals mixed in.
As as one would expect it can be hit or miss.
The advantage of picking obscure covers is that most of the time people haven’t heard the originals and so can’t compare them to the new versions.
Of the many I’m not familiar with that sound wonderful to me, the best are The Scene Is Now's “Yellow Sarong”, the Flaming Groovies "You Tore Me Down” and Daniel Johnston's “Speeding Motorcycle” and , “The Summer”. And they do quite a creditable job on Gene Clark’s “Tried So Hard”.
Other good ones are Cat Stevens’ “Here Comes My Baby”, John Cale’s “Adalucia” and Rex Garvin’s (I told you they’re obscure!) “Emulsified”.
And the originals they sprinkle throughout are very, very good. Especially "The Summertime"!
The only ones that come up short are the Kinks “Oklahoma, USA” - one of Ray Davies’ greatest songs - which requires more than Ira’s fragile voice can accomplish. Don’t believe me? Here’s the original - a masterpiece hidden on side two of a fairly unknown record. (By the way, Yo La Tengo was Ray’s backup band during his solo tour in 2000. Ira loves the Kinks, so he must have been in heaven, since Ray is such a barrel of laughs..)
And “Griselda”, about a young man trying to persuade his girlfriend to have sex with him by the moonlight, is hampered by Ira’s earnest attempt to make it pretty. The original had a horny pervy vocal that suited the subject perfectly.
But otherwise they do a fine job.
The lineup includes guitarist Dave Schramm, who knows how to add just what the given song calls for. He prettifies what Ira might otherwise bulldoze.
So it’s a bit scattershot, a little frustrating, but very often brilliant. I’m probably grading a bit harshly on principle. In practice it glides by quite gracefully.
Mrs. Jaybee liked the Kings Theatreso much back in May at the Sufjan showthat she took note of the fact that Yo La Tengowould be playing there in October, and got me tickets for Father’s Day.
Yo La Tengo comprises three rather unassuming people - husband and wife team Ira Kaplan (on guitar and vocals) and Georgia Hubley (drums and vocals) and friend James McNew (bass). I think they live in New Jersey and keep to themselves. Such modesty doesn’t typically bespeak great music, but YLT have been at this for quite a while now.
By the way, the band name comes from a Met outfielder yelling “I got it.” in Spanish. Works for me.
- one of my very favorite records of the nineties - and Electro-Pura - a loud/quiet juggernaut that I would play more often except that I got it right before 9/11 and it still brings back memories - both records are now about twenty years old. I’m sure at the show they’d get around to playing slightly newer material, so I’d better get up to speed.
Having been around for nearly thirty years, they’ve amassed quite the discography so I wasn’t sure where to continue. I noted that it would be an acoustic show and thought that getting one of their quieter albums would be a good place to go.
And Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out (2000)
And quiet it is! Quite a surprise after it’s predecessor, Heart from three years prior, which covered a wide spectrum of sounds from loud and fuzzy to samba to country to folk, with stops at electro-drone along the way,
It was relatively successful, for indie rock, anyway, so you’d think this time around they’d be poised for their next career step by polishing up their sound.
Instead, YLT doubles down on a rumbling, somewhat ominous, but definitely lower decibel sound, only ripping it up in the middle with “Cherry Chapstick”. But in case you think they’re hedging their bets, they finish it all off with the 17 minute quietest-of-all “Hoboken at Night”, that says that they really mean it, man.
No one’s a great singer here, so the vocals tend to be low to the point of mumbling. You’d think this - combined with the overall approach they’re taking here - would wear thin after a while. And it does if you’re not willing to hang in there. But it makes perfect artistic, if not commercial, sense.
I’ll admit that my first listen left me underwhelmed. There didn’t seem to be any “there” there. (Oh wait, that’s Oakland.) One could reasonably conclude it’s a dud, throw it against the wall and move on with one’s life.
Especially in the middle of summer when the windows are open and the music is competing with the sounds of the city (which all too often resembles the sound of assholes).
But once the windows are shut and you get to really hear it, you find that there’s a real song behind each carefully crafted soundscape. Please excuse the critic-speak there. I just have to point out that they’re not coasting here. Each track is powered either by a great drum pattern, soulful harmony or subtle organ part.
My favorite song is “Tears Are In Your Eyes” - a gentle but emotional lending hand held out to a depressed friend. And now that I can really hear it, I find that every song is at the very least worthwhile or way better.
Mostly the latter. And that commitment to tone seems less and less crazy and more and more brave.
Lovely night music, and it would sound great out in the middle of nowhere
In fact, it’s a low-key, but definitely not mellow, tour-de-force. Come on, this unassuming married couple and easy going bass player friend are saying. We dare you to listen.
I could go on Facebook and say it was the greatest concert ever, but that wouldn't be true. I could have said we had a wonderful time, but I didn't.
It was just another concert, and it turned out the way concerts generally turn out for me. Okay, but frustrating as hell.
Why does this always happen? Well, it could be my impossibly high standards, but circumstances do enter into it.
We had tickets to Sufjan Stevens at the newly - and awesomely - refurbished Kings Theatre, and there was no reason to think we'd have anything but a wonderful time. Except all of my prior concert experiences.
Unlike my fellow near 58 year olds, I won't lie to you and tell you about all the concerts I've been to. When I was younger I DIDN'T go to a lot of concerts. I didn’t see Dylan, the Beatles, the Stones. So when I did get to go to a show, I’d invest so much emotional capital into it, it would be almost impossible for the show to satisfy me.
Other folks would come to have a good time, by dancing, standing and talking to friends. But I must have been starved for entertainment, because. I’d sit there leaning forward, never taking my eyes off the stage, making sure I was taking in every sliver of the experience. And heaven help anyone who came between me and that experience.
I'd be there hoping for a PERFECT show, which would comprise the following:
Great seats.
Nobody's fat f*cking head in front of me.
A great song selection. A corollary to this is that there’s a good mix of old and new. Too much old is playing it safe, too much new is not fair to the audience, and reeks of hawking new product, like a 1978 Dave Mason concert that my friends and I would later refer to as the “Here’s another one from the new record…” show.
Faithful but enthusiastic renditions of the songs. Not robotic note for note replications of the record, but also not drastically different arrangements of them, a la Dylan.
A three hour show. Okay, this isn’t as important as it used to be. I’d have to hit the bathroom during such a marathon. And I saw a pretty short Elvis Costello show in 1979 that was nonetheless one of the more intense concerts I’ve ever seen, and so I didn’t leave feeling gypped, like that other EC, whose 1974 show was the epitome of the bad concert. I’d waited months for that show (and years for him to come out of hiding) and it sucked, striking out on virtually all of the above criteria.
As you can see, I tend to place a lot of expectation on an event involving a multitude of factors and thousands of people out of my control. And I usually was disappointed.
Would Sufjan do any better, I wondered? It’s funny how things change, though. I’d set my expectations so low I’d almost forgotten we’d even gotten the tickets.
When we entered the theater, we couldn’t believe our eyes. It had been closed for a long time, but had just been refurbished, and was absolutely beautiful.
And the opening act - Moses Sumney - started at eight sharp! - was really very good. A perfect start.
So Sufjan comes on and starts off great, playing songs from his new record. And playing them. And playing them. About seven in a row, actually.
Now, given my inability to appreciate music the first time I hear it, I try to prepare for a show by listening to the new album a few times ahead of time. Arcade Fire didn’t give us much of a chance releasing The Suburbs the day before we saw them in 2010. Sufjan had a little more consideration. But I still felt rushed, and only got a few grudging listens in.
A good, but solemn, record. And while you can definitely put it on when you're in that mood, you may not want to remain in that mood for the length of an entire concert, which should be a little more, uh, fun. And given how I’d been feeling in general, more solemnity was the last thing I needed.
He did play some other songs, but they seemed few and far between. And it took him almost half the show before he even talked to the audience. So it was a little too much like going to mass.
But how did we do overall?
1. Seats? Row S. Excellent. A- 2. Fat F*cking Heads? Not bad - I had a great view but there was the young lady who insisted on resting her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder, blocking my wife's view. But then she'd lift it again. And then put it down again. I was outraged by proxy, but Mrs. Jaybee said she didn’t mind. B+ 3. Song Selection? As I said, too many new ones. B 4. Faithful but enthusiastic....? A 5. The Band? Excellent! Stripped down, and mixed gender, too! A 6. Sound System? Usually excellent, but sometimes the guitar was too loud and Sufjan also tried - in the wrong way - to expand the tone of the material. B+ 7. Assholes? Surprisingly, sensitive Sufjan draws assholes just like any other artist. Despite threats to the contrary, talking during the show was pretty minimal, but there were the douche bags who screamed out during the quiet parts of songs. What are these people thinking? That they're adding to the experience? And a new phenomenon. People showing up late for the show! Like an hour late. Really? Is this just one stop in your wonderful evening? Who are these people who buy tickets to shows and come in when it’s more than half over? That’s like buying a pizza and throwing away four slices on the way home. B 8. A three hour show. Not even close, but I don’t care anymore. A-
Overall, the show gets a strong B+, with the song selection being the biggest problem. Which is a damned shame since I’d find out later how great, and how durable, these new songs were.
But it's like deciding when to eat dinner. At my age, I spend a lot of time not being hungry, only to immediately follow that with that nice hungry feeling, but only for about five minutes. It’s immediately superseded by nausea, thus making the timing of a meal challenging, to say the least.
And with new songs, if you overplay them you get sick of them songs before the show. You need to play them just enough to want to look forward to hearing them again. And then stop until the show.
So I went into the show thinking I’d gotten to the essence of these songs - thinking I was ready to really enjoy them. But I was wrong. It was too soon. I’d only skimmed the surface. But I’ll talk about that at another time.
So it wasn’t a great show, but I’d only blame Sufjan for the abrupt end to “Chicago”, which should have gone out on a fading choir of angelic voices. See?
We’ll go back to the Kings Theater in October to catch Yo La Tengo and I’ll report back on my narrow comfort zone and the potential attendant assholes. Let’s see if I, or they, learn anything.
In the cold January of 2001, what does one do with the balance left on his record store gift certificate?If you’re me, you get obscure depression era folk music – to cheer yourself up.
Okay, so maybe it's not party music, but I found great comfort in Harry Smith’sAnthology of Folk Music.Thissix CD set covers the odd - sometimes very odd - folk songs that floated around this great country of ours during the twenties and thirties.It kicks off with a singer who makes Grandpa Jones sound like Tom Jones.Of course, it’s about the perfidy of wimmin.From there, we get to thwarted love, misunderstood outlaws, murder and fiddles, in various combinations.The cast of characters includes Stagerlee, Frankie and Johnny, President Roosevelt (the second one), John Henry, King Kong and God.How do you feel about old people singing?I ask because everyone here sounds old.But I'll bet none of them were over twenty five at the time.And every once in a while, there’s the odd lyric you could swear you’ve heard before.And you did, because Bob Dylan “borrowed” it.
Valentine’s Day:
I somehow rated a present that year, and got Ken Burns’s Jazz – Charlie Parker.It’s easy to go wrong when trying to get a good compilation of a major jazz artist, butthissingle CDsounds fine to me.Parker was a brilliant improviser, with major chops, who, along with Dizzy Gillespie, revolutionized jazz.How did they even think of songs like “Koko” and “Salt Peanuts”, let alone play them? ----------------
Now playing: Charlie Parker - Salt Peanuts via FoxyTunes
Take This Job and Shove It:
Around this time I changed jobs, and decided to stamp this major life event with new music.(I did something similar when I tried my first slice of anchovie pizza, and got Beethoven’s Nine Symphonies.)
Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew had beencalling out to me since it came out in 1970.I held off because I suspected that it would be one of those albums whose reputation was greater than the actual music.Overrated, for short.I can’t possibly appreciate it for what it represents in the evolution of jazz.It’s kind of like trying to appreciate sound pictures when you didn’t live through the silent era.So, yes, to my ears it’s overrated, and you can get a shorter, sharper sampling of similar music on the great A Tribute to Jack Johnson.
Then there was the Fugees’ The Score, which was a bit out of my reach at the time.Stressful times call out for soothing, familiar music.The Fugees were neither, and so I put it aside.Now, eight years later I’m hearing it more, but neither cover (“No Woman No Cry”, “Killing Me Softly”) sounds different enough from the originals for me to care much.Good, not great.
Earth Wind and Fire’s Greatest Hits - If you asked me what type of music I didn’t like in the 70s, this would be it.Rhythm, horns, a male vocalist singing in a high register, style, commercial appeal, etc. - all no-nos for an awkward teenager like me.But this isn’t bad at all, their version of “Got To Get You Into My Life” notwithstanding.“September” is simply undeniable.If you don’t like it, check your pulse.And the rest is much better than I ever realized.
Father’s Day:
I invoked the rule “have someone else buy something for you that you may never get around to getting on your own”.This resulted in Nirvana’s “Unplugged”, whichis a good record with some great moments, but only “On a Plane” offers something different from the original version.“Where Did You Sleep?” is the grim highlight at the end.Miss you, Kurt.
The Rolling Stones “Sticky Fingers”held up very well, even if I didn’t need to hear “Brown Sugar” or “Bitch” ever again.“Sway” and “Dead Flowers” are great, “Moonlight Mile” is a classic, and “Wild Horses” just never seems to tire out.
The Calm at Labor Day:
So there I am in my favorite downtown record store, only up to the B’s when a bunch of firemen burst in.Oh no, I’m thinking, how hot and smoky would it have to get before I aborted?It turned out to be a smoke condition down the block, so I got back to my obsession.
Two weeks later, these very same firemen would get a call that would be anything but routine.Did even one of them make it out alive, I wonder?But in the meantime, I, not knowing what was about to come, really enjoyed playing the CDs I got.
Like the gentle folk and noisy guitar extremes of Yo La Tengo’s “Electro Pura”, which is almost as good as their masterpiece “I Hear the Heart Beat As One”. ----------------
Now playing: Yo La Tengo - Tom Courtenay via FoxyTunes
Then there was David Bowie’s “Hunky Dory” (link) a pop record from before his stateside fame.
Van Morrison’s “Bang Masters” is okay, but it’s really just an awkward stepping stone between Them and “Astral Weeks” (which I’m still waiting to be remastered).
And although I don’t think you can ever have too much noisy guitar, Archer’s of Loafs’s “Vee Vee” and Sleater Kinney’s “Dig Me Out” made me rethink my position.While both are good, neither could quite win me over.The latter was a particular disappointment since I’m a big fan of their previous one “Call the Doctor”.
Massive Attack’s “Protection” opens with the fantastic title song, but the rest of the record just can’t keep up.It averages out to pretty good, but the strings bug me. Better was Tricky’s subsequent soundscape “Maxinquay”, which offers no hint of salvation.
Thelonius Monk’s “Brilliant Corners” is considered the one to get by him.It’s very good, but I have several others records by him that I like even more.(Misterioso!)
But the one that got me through the time after those first two weeks was the wonderful, spacey voice and chimy guitars of Luna’s “Penthouse”.(link)What was pretty before 9/11, also seemed regretful and resigned after it.Perfect for 9/12.And I wouldn’t be able to listen to anything else for a while.(Hell, I heard a guy blasting Enya out of his car that week.Even I couldn’t blame him.)
It took a pre 9/11 BMG order, arriving in late September for me to finally get a CD that came out this decade – Outkast’s “Stankonia”, which is a perfect example of music that isn’t in my favorite genre (hip hop) but that even I can tell is great.This fast, funny, wordy and often thoughtful CD is what I put on when I’m in the mood to take on a difficult book. (link BOB, Ms. Jackson)
My wife had to console herself with Andrea Bocelli, and if you have to as well, please get Sogno, and not that power ballad collection disguised as Euro-sophistication Romanza.Christ.
Thanksgiving:
John Coltrane’s Blue Train was a disappointment at first because the title track turned out to not be that amazing song I heard on the radio twenty years ago (which I’m still trying to track down).But I’m past it now, and this is a very good record - as good a place to start getting into Coltrane as “My Favorite Things” which I got at the end of the year.Some day I’ll find that song…
Then there was Iris Dement’s “My Life”, which my family can’t stand because of Iris’s country vibrato and the traditional-type melodies that scare off the city folk.Otherwise, it’spractically flawless.But it takes an effort, and I’ve got enough to do around the holidays. But if you're feeling like you don't matter in this world, listen to the title song.
Christmas:
So I retreated to comfort music, and replaced some vinyl, by getting the Velvet Underground’s “Peel Slowly and See” and CitizenSteely Dan for Christmas.
The surprising thing is that I gravitated to Steely Dan, instead of the Velvets.Considering that the former set had virtually no new music on it, you'd think I would have tired of it quickly.But it was the latter, with the extra, and often unnecessary, new stuff that put me off.And how could they leave off the official live double album, and "She's My Best Friend", one of their greatest songs?And did we really need a whole CD of demos of five songs?On the other hand, the remainder is some of the greatest rock and roll ever made.
I guess I was priding myself that my black-as-ink outlook would enable me to handle the infamous subject matter of both bands.Not so.Steely Dan was practically sweet in comparison.And as much as I wouldn’t admit it, I needed sweet.
The Best:
Anthology of Folk Music
Luna - Penthouse
Yo La Tengo-Electro Pura
Charlie Parker
Two years into Our Decade and I’ve only gotten one record – Outkast - actually released in it.And I admire that record more than I love it.I guess there were worse things at the time, like the f’ing world coming to an end.
