Whatever Works For You, George

I disagree with Debbie.

Mad, glad, sad... It's all good to me.

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Now playing: Blondie - Just Go Away
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My 2008

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

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

Loves:

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

Highlights:

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

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Now playing: The Turtles - Outside Chance
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Revelations:

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

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Now playing: Red Hot Chili Peppers - Venice Queen
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Likes:

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

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

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

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Now playing: Modest Mouse - The World at Large
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Finds:

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

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

Disappointments:

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

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

Challenges/Homework:

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

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

History:

Led Zeppelin-Long Story

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

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

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

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

Music in My Head: Afropop

Ocean of Remembranc: Sufi music for meditation.

Le Tigre: Smart Ass Feminist Punk rock.

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

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

WTFITS, or When “Bad” CDs Happen to Good People

Congratulations. You just bought a CD.

You figured Let me see what all the fuss is about. I’m a groovy guy, I can still dig what the young folks dig, right? So you put on your bell bottoms and earth shoes and head down to the record store. You ask where the albums are because all you see are CDs. They tell you that unless you’re a DJ (somehow they know you aren’t) the album you want is only available in CD format (or you could download it, but let’s not even go there). You call your kids, who assure you that there is a CD player in the house so it’s safe to buy some.

Now you could let this little bump in the road throw you - you could chicken out and just look for an album you’re already familiar with (I can just see you boring your kids with You see this is the part where you’re supposed to turn it over, etc.) but that would defeat the whole purpose of this trip. You’re a cool guy! You can handle the new stuff! So what if the wife looks at you funny? You’ve learned to ignore that by now, haven’t you?

So you buy something. It’s one of those new fangled records you read about in your local newspaper. And although it’s a family paper, the reviewer is trying to be hip, and overcompensates by excessively praising a band with more cache than actual talent.

So, like the diet book that makes it all the way from the book store to your home, but never quite to the top of your reading list, let alone in the form of food on your dinner table, the CD just sits there. The one major difference between the CD and the diet book is that you’ve probably listened to the CD once. Hey, how hard is it to cut open the cellophane (very, actually) and slap it onto the CD player (after the kids have shown you how, that is)? I mean, it’s not like the lyrics are a lecture on the dangers of trans fatty acids or something. So you get that far at least.

But when you put it on, you…just…don’t …get it. In other words, your reaction is WTFITS? (English translation: “My, but isn’t this different?…”) Don’t panic.

There are very few CDs that fit any mood, and I’ll go further to say that, with rare exception, those that do should be considered wall paper, not music. So don’t let it throw you that you maybe didn’t like it right away. Wait until you’re in the mood. How’s that for a switch?

I went into some detail in an early post about how to deal with new music, but that was meant for those CDs that puzzle you. Now I’m talking about the stuff that you’re embarrassed to play around other human beings (as opposed to what you should be embarrassed to play around others), or is at the very least, totally inappropriate for the matter at hand. (Irish music and sex, for instance - “Celtic Moods”, not withstanding.) I didn’t develop a sense of this myself until a friend pointed out that the Brian Eno record I had on– early, baroque Brian Eno, not the later spacey Brian Eno – wasn’t exactly conducive to hitchhiking to the beach. Whatever you think of Eno, he certainly isn’t your “let’s get this party started” kind of guy. OK, now I know.

During an otherwise stellar record store run (Neil Young, Graham Parker, Bryan Ferry, come to think of it, this was when I picked up Eno….) I got “Second Edition” by Public Image Ltd. PIL was Johnny (Rotten) Lydon’s band after the Sex Pistols. I played it a few times and felt like I had crash-landed on a hostile planet. So I put it away for several months. One dark gloomy fall day I felt like trying it again, and it totally floored me. It remains one of my favorite albums, and comes in handy when I want to chase unwelcome guests away.

Okay, now I know what some of you are thinking. Music, like sex, is meant to be enjoyed, usually with others. Listening to it shouldn’t feel like homework. Can’t I just put it on and enjoy? I can’t argue with that, but I also can’t help thinking that if I just stuck with the artists that I knew I liked, I would quickly get into a rut, and eventually hit a dead end, listlessly buying their latest record, and concluding that, while not great, it was certainly better than their last one. It’s like when a farmer plants the same crop year after year. It deadens the soil, and things stop growing. He knows he has to plant something new every couple of years to replenish the soil.

Well, that’s where my agricultural expertise ends. My point is that I’m always on the lookout for something different. I’ll admit that there are some records that manage to walk that fine line of sounding both vitally new and yet familiar. But let’s leave that to people like Neil Young and John Prine.

There’s a point in your life when you realize that your record collection has to mean something. (Jesus Christ, I can’t believe that I just wrote that. Let it stand. You’ll think I’m kidding.) I recently read somewhere that reading fiction is an act of self definition. I think it’s even more true when it comes to record buying. If all your record library contains are the most popular records, then what purpose did it serve? You could have saved yourself a lot of money and just turned on the radio.

So a little WTF is good for you. If you’re up for it, besides PIL, I can definitely recommend these:

Soul Coughing: Ruby Vroom (Remember, not at dinner time!)

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Now playing: Soul Coughing - Blue Eyed Devil
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X: Wild Gift One of the great punk albums.

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Now playing: X - I'm Coming Over
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Brian Eno: Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy) But please, not right before the beach.

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Now playing: Brian Eno - Burning Airlines Give You So Much More
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They each caused some dismay upon first listen, but eventually wormed their way onto my favorites. And aren’t good friends like that?

...And I Feel Fine!

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Now playing: R.E.M. - End of the World as We Know It
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Weird But Wonderful: The Flaming Lips "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots"

Welcome to the strange but wonderful world of the Flaming Lips. This band hails out of OklaCover via Amazonhoma, but you’d never know it. My guess would have been Mars.

The Lips have been around for about twenty five years doing strange stuff – not limited to music - out on the fringes. Occasionally they would surface on the radio. They first hit my radar - and tried my patience - back in 1995 with the song “She Don’t Use Jelly”. They plead innocent to the most obvious interpretation, which I’m only now ready to believe. Their lead singer and mastermind, Wayne Coyne, has only a passing acquaintance with pitch. And it’s taken me a number of years to hear it as pure innocence.

Their next hit was 1999’s “The Soft Bulletin”, where Wayne shows a little more control, and a lot more melody. It’s almost great, but to me, their follow up, “

Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots” is where it all comes together.

Well, Wayne still misses some notes, but by now I don’t mind. Did I mention that he likes to hang out in the higher registers, so he sounds like he’s been inhaling helium? When combined with the beeps and crackles that a science fiction theme tends to encourage, things get odd real fast. You might expect the result to be cold and sterile, but instead, with the help of some very melodic songs, we get something warm, emotional and beautiful.

The story, such as it is, involves Yoshimi who, well, battles some pink robots. I understand that the story was inspired by a friend’s losing battle with cancer, although no mention is made of this on the album, or in their documentary “Fearless Freaks” (a pretty apt description, by the way). Nor is the other possible inspiration - 9/11 (it was recorded from 2000 through to 2002). This may be why I genuinely enjoy the music rather than feel like I’m obligated to.

The record kicks off with the irresistible “Fight Test”, which is about how some things are worth fighting for, even if you realize it too late. This is followed by a few songs that more or less tell the story. They’re done relatively straight (for the Lips, anyway) and are quite nice (except the one about the actual battle with the robots, which makes me feel like I’m stuck inside a video game).

The rest of the album, though - about dealing with loss and regret – is beautiful. The seemingly serene “Ego Tripping at the Gates of Hell” becomes heart wrenching as the words sink in. The delicate “It’s Summertime” is about finding a way to move on after terrible loss. You may have heard the gorgeous “Do You Realize???”, which encapsulates the main themes of the record.

The remainder of the album drives home the point that the only valid response to our mortality is to love now. This is not an original idea, but it is delivered with such sincerity that it blows right through my normally oversensitive sentimentality detector.

The Lips have been at it for so long, surviving out on the fringes, that they may not even be aware of how strange they can sound. Go ahead and laugh at the weirdness, but they wouldn’t even notice. This record is a great example of beauty for beauty’s sake. It’s when the weirdos come in from the cold, and tell you what a wonderful world it is.

An Old Fogey’s Guide to David Bowie

I’m embarrassed to say that when David Bowie first became known in the states, I hated him. And for all the wrong reasons. It was right around when he was dabbling in his androgynous alter ego Ziggy Stardust. And since I was a typical teenage boy, anything remotely hinting at homosexuality was to be avoided at all costs. It also didn’t help that as a major representative of what was known as the glam rock movement, he placed a lot of emphasis on spectacle and costume. This gave me an excuse to reject his music for requiring that spectacle. Our music was better, I thought, because it didn’t need all that. It was played by very ugly drug addicts who didn’t bother to dress up or “put on a show”. It had more “integrity”.

Now that we’re all a little more secure in our manhood, and Bowie has moved beyond those devices that caused me such discomfort, the question is, was he any good? Obviously yes. Just listen to the radio. If you’re interested in exploring his oeuvre (I can die now. I used “oeuvre” in a sentence. Twice!) it would be easy to recommend any of the greatest hits packages. The only problem is that you’ve probably heard all of those songs. If you want to dig a little deeper than that, and wonder where to start, I can recommend these:

 

Hunky Dory (1971):

This came out prior to his stateside fame, and after his years as a teen idol in Britain. What a likable record! This is David the singer-songwriter-with-heart before David the artist-with-alter-ego took over. It has “Changes”, but it’s also got the great “Life on Mars?”, “Oh, You Pretty Things” and my favorite, “Kooks”, written for his newborn son. Try this one for good pop music and good songs.

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Now playing: David Bowie - Life on Mars
via FoxyTunes

The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust etc. (1972):

The songwriting is even better, but he’s now taking on his first alter ego. The sexual ambiguity is pretty ho-hum by today’s standards. It has “Suffragette City” and the title tune, but “Five Years” is my favorite. Try this for more rock oriented songs.

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Now playing: David Bowie - Five Years
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Station to Station (1976):

One of the great commercial records of the decade, it’s got “Golden Years” and “Stay”. But you may not have heard the wonderful “TVC15”, “Word on a Wing” or the Johnny Mathis cover. This one is probably the most accessible of them all.
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Now playing: David Bowie - TVC15
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Low (1977):

Many Bowie fans think this is his best record. It’s hard to argue. I don’t know what I like more, the loud trashy rock on side one, or the ambient music collaborations with Brian Eno on side two Get this one if you’re feeling adventurous.

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Now playing: David Bowie - Always Crashing in the Same Car
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He’s got a lot more records out. The other three I have – “Heroes” (a more extreme version of “Low”), “Scary Monsters” (Grating, but with some great moments.) and “Stage” (a very good mid seventies live album) all have something to recommend them.

But the first four records above are my faves. So, if you’re in a mood to explore an artist who was more deserving of our attention and respect at the time, put on your makeup and jump right in.

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?