World History Project: The Notorious L.V.B. 1980 - 2020

Some Smartypants (Possibly Mrs. Jaybee): Uh, point of order!

Jaybee: What?

SS(PMJ): Look at your title. Some people are going to think you're saying that Beethoven was born in 1980 and died in 2020.

Jaybee: Oh, come on, nobody's that stupid.

SS(PMJ): Do you watch the news?

Jaybee: Okay, point taken. I guess I should clarify. No, Ludvig Van wasn't born in 1980.

(aside) Jesus fuck, do I really have to explain this?

SS(PMJ): Yes, you do. You barely typed the title and you FUBARed Music History, possibly forever. Don't you know Jay Leno used to do "idiot on the street" interviews with people who thought it was Fidel Castro on the penny and the Civil War was in the NINETEEN sixties? Let's not even speak of 2020.

Jaybee: All right, all right, all right! Next thing you know you'll be telling me I don't pick up after myself.

SS(PMJ): Uh...

Jaybee: ANYWAY. Ludvig van Beethoven didn't die in 2020 (great Caesar's ball sack!). That was John Prine. But you were close.

The years above and below merely indicate times when I, Jaybee, immersed myself in LVB's music, and unlike Billy Joel, came out of it still loving rock n' roll.

So, now that we've gotten THAT out of the way...

SS(PMJ): You dropped your napkin.

2020: Corona and BLM

I normally try to keep the "research" for the colder months but COVID-19 and the Minneapolis police fucked that up. In late spring and early summer, when I usually celebrate the warmer weather by listening to lighter, "fun" music, was now dedicated to blocking out things like pandemics and crazy presidents, so I listened to some of my old vinyl.

But even there I'd see dead people, either from the 'Rona, or not.

I had just about finished this when George Floyd was murdered and knew I'd need something stronger. Something from before my lifetime, when there was a good reason for people to be dead.

1980: My First Classical Record

When you move out on your own you have an opportunity to know or remake yourself.

After a few months in my first apartment, I noticed I was eating a lot less red meat than when I lived at home. And First Jaybee Roommate and Best Jaybee Friend Mike got me into reading the Sunday NY Times instead of the Daily News.

Music-wise, I took advantage of Mike's records where I found Errol Garner's Concert by the Sea. Then I started getting jazz albums on my own, like Kind of Blue.

On one particular Sunday, the Times had an ad for the Musical Heritage Society, which was essentially the Columbia Record Club for classical music. They were offering an eight-LP set of Beethoven's Nine Symphonies for only $15! (plus shipping and handling!!). So I said what the hell and - six to eight weeks later - that became my first-ever classical music album. 

 

And as with most of my multi-disc explorations, I tended to play disc-one side-one a lot. And only on rare occasions - like a major "recycling" - got all the way through to disc eight.

2000: Banished to the Dungeon

Another factor that made it literally harder to get to these records was moving all our vinyl to the then-dungeon, now more-or-less-basement of mine and Mrs. Jaybee's house. The CDs were beginning to pile up and our living room was looking too much like a used record store, so down they went.

From that point, I was listening almost exclusively to CDs. I didn't get down to the basement unless there was an unpleasant chore or a prisoner interrogation to do. So LVB - along with a ton of other vinyl - sat there unlistened to for years.

I eventually got CD versions of the symphonies and burned them onto my work PC, where I could listen throughout the workday. I figured I’d just play and play them until they sank in, but all this seemed to accomplish was to blend them all together so that when I hear them I recognize them but I'm not even sure they're Beethoven let alone which symphony. As usual, my best-laid plans were blowing up in my face.

And worst of all, the World History Project was stuck - from a musical standpoint - at around 1800 or so.

2020 Again:

But there's nothing like tragedy and mayhem to sharpen one's focus, and I spent the entire month of June 2020 in a Ludvig Van deep dive.

One side benefit of all this is now that I've got two different versions of the Nine Symphonies, I get to do a Charles Emerson Winchester and say things like version x is "tentative" and version y is "sublime" (which for the longest time I thought was a flavor).

I'm still having issues telling one piece apart from another, but I will cautiously conclude that the CD version (by the Revolutionary Orchestra) is faster. Like the conductor had a lot of coffee or didn’t book enough studio time. By the way, I recommend this approach to anyone who's planning to record anything.

So this is a heads up for/warning about the next few posts, where I'll be going over the LVB Symphonies, and throw in a few other works that I’ve had the pleasure of hearing. But I’m going to break it up into chunks. It would be nuts to do otherwise. Figure it'll take all of February, which is Black History Month (Mrs. Jaybee is suddenly eyeing me very closely.) which in this case is really neither here nor there (Okay Mrs. Jaybee? Maybe not BLM though).

So I’ll tackle it by year, covering 1800 to 1825, with no respect intended, or rather none offered blindly. And rather than bore you with technical terms neither you nor I understand, I will try to relate these symphonies to some of my favorite records and artists. 

I’m STILL trying to figure out who his rock and roll equivalent is. Maybe by the end of all this, I’ll know.

 

But I can only share the tiny slice of his vast output that I've heard. Hmm, perhaps his RNRE is fellow curmudgeon Frank Zappa...

So now that the Best of 2020 (and next best) is out of the way, we'll meet up in February 2021 to talk about 1800.  

What?

2020 Etceteras

Leftovers, effluvia, whatever you want to call them these are the records from my last musical year that never got mentioned.

New Order: Power, Corruption, and Lies (1983) 

My first New Order album (Substance) was also one of my first CDs ever and gave me my first taste of CD abundance. I was just then learning that the typical CD held almost twice as much music as a typical vinyl album, and Substance was a two-CD set! Each CD held twelve cuts, many of which were extended versions of songs. So here I was with 24 songs, each running an average of six minutes long.

And I haven't caught up since!

NO sprang out of the ruins of Joy Division, and sounded quite a bit like them (doomy, droney pop music) for a while, but then blended it with dance music, retaining the best of both worlds. 

This one came out while they were on the cusp of that change. They're not quite out of their Joy Division phase, and not yet the dance music monsters they would become.

And it's just what you'd expect from them. Nothing quite brilliant but nice nonetheless. They were miles ahead of the other synth-pop bands in terms of their singer who, while he couldn't actually sing, at least didn't whine. And a band that didn't try to attempt soul music.  The guitar is my favorite blend of density and lightness - it makes loud noises but doesn't overstay its welcome. The bass is Right. Out. Front. and could pass as a guitar (or drums for that matter.) And the keyboards never take on that tacky synth sound of the early eighties, and thus age well.

"The Village" is a masterpiece of rhythm. (They're white and British(!) so I'm marking on a curve.)

I wouldn't have a clue as to where this one stands in their catalog but it is a very solid album.

B+

"Your Silent Face"

of Montreal: Hissing Fauna, At You the Destroyer? (2007)  

Initially, this was way too preening - a weird combination of 10cc, ELO, and Phoenix, but it has since grown on me. Headphones helped. I could hear the oomph. 

There's a ton of detail here, and what keeps it from getting too fussy - at least for a while - is the commitment in the singing and playing. And it's there. It only gets to be too much (or not enough) about two-thirds of the way through. 

B+

"The Past Is A Grotesque Animal"

Bad Bunny: XPRE-1000 (2019)

Funny story. I thought I was buying Beach Bunny and got this by mistake.

There are subtle differences.

Here’s Beach Bunny.

And here’s Bad Bunny.

HAVING. SAID. THAT. This is not terrible. Good vocals - if autotune is being used, it's not overly obvious.

The beats vary somewhat. This is a very good thing for those of us who don't normally listen to this type of music. (Nice of him to consider the 60+ demographic.)

The melodies are not too intricate or complicated. Just enough to keep you listening. The accompanying instruments are well placed and not overbearing. I even heard the odd word or two in English.

I even heard something that could be construed as rock music if the guitars were slightly louder. Touche!

It flows. It’s not too harsh. What’s not to like? A bit one-note, though.

Jaybe Niece Sara - a Bad Bunny fan - finds the whole thing hilarious.

B+

"Ni Bien Ni Mal"

The Avalanches: Since I Left You (2006)

An amalgam of snippets of other records and sounds. In other words a kitchen sink record. 

Kind of fun, kind of a lark. Kind of the opposite of DJ Shadow. Nothing profound or dark here. Which is kind of the problem. These types of records have to have a few brilliant moments or it's hard to take seriously. This one flows by and you hum to it, but that's all. But there are worse ways to spend your time.

B+

"Since I Left You"

And there are the jazz records that got even shorter shrift: 

Bill Evans: 12 Classic Albums

John Coltrane: The Classic Collaborations 1957-1963

The Modern Jazz Quartet: The Final Concert

And the classical Schubert and Tchaikovsky/Mendelsson records that will come up in a later 

segment of the World History Project.

The front door of my brain is obviously too narrow so I'll just pile them into my work PC and let them play all day, and thus sneak in the back door. 

Which leaves....

2021 To-Dos:

• Attend the Inauguration.
• Catch up on all those records above.
• Beethoven 
• Catch up again on pop music. 

The Tenth Annual Jaybee-bies: 2020 Vision

Executive Summary:

Fuck this year. 

Seriously. 

I'll admit this isn't an original sentiment.

Abstract:

Let me set your expectations right up top here by saying please do not read this for any wise words on this horrendous year. I spent enough time on that here, here, here, well, you get the idea. Right now, I'm just going to focus on the newer (to me) music (or whatever) that got me through it. 

However...

Best Humans:

Smarter people than me have identified the heroes and villains. But here's my very short list of the former. If you can't figure out the latter by now, I can't help you

• Every fucking doctor/nurse/tech/health care worker in the country.*
• Every first responder or front line essential worker.*
• Every teacher.*
• Every mom trying to figure out whether to send their child to school and go to work or to stay home with them.
• Anthony Fauci
• Various internet voices like Don Winslow/John Fugelsang etc.

* Sorry to get all topical and everything, but if you agree with these statements, but don't wear a mask you're part of the problem.

Best Books:

Les Miserables by Victor Hugo

The unabridged version, running 1400 or so pages. Overlong, but so was the French Revolution (which this book is NOT about, but kind of is anyway). Funny, too.

Air Guitar by David Hickey

High-falutin' but never pretentious art theory, which includes but is not limited to Chet Baker, Female Wrestling, Las Vegas, and Perry Mason.

The Mirror and the Light by Hillary Mantel

Henry VIII was an okay king, a bad husband, and an even worse boss.

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

Overlong and perhaps overrated, but with many sublime moments.

Best Movies:

I didn't really see any so I don't really give a shit. Or is that vice versa?

Best TV:

Bojack Horseman

Better Call Saul

The Good Place

Schitt's Creek

Watchmen

Music Awards:

Most Work (But Worth it): Fiona

Most Work (And Possibly Not Worth It): Bill Evans, but the jury is still out.

Most Surprising (and Not Necessarily in a Good Way): Bad Bunny I meant to get Beach Bunny!

Most Disappointing: Bill Evans, but only because he's not Bud Powell or Thelonious Monk.

Best Artist: Fiona (writer, singer, pianist)

The Best:

1. Big Thief: UFOF (2019) Mrs. Jaybee hates all the soft-voiced women I'm listening to lately, but I love the utter simplicity of the songs and arrangements.
2. Purple Mountains: Purple Mountains (2019) Crushing depression has rarely been so entertaining.
3. Fiona Apple: Fetch the Bolt Cutters (2020) Man, this one's a lot of work, but it's worth it.
4. Funkadelic: Motor City Madness (2006) I'm cheating a bit because I usually don't include compilations, but this one deserves it. I was inspired by my going back to an early best of during the depths of the pandemic. This is o obviously rock n' roll that all I can do is scratch my head and wonder how we missed it back then. They picked up where Sly left off and then handed things off to hip hop before disintegrating. 
5. Frank Ocean: Channel Orange (2012) Wonderfully diverse, melodic, and entertaining.
6. Devo: Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo! (1978) For a so-called weird record, this is quite tuneful and consistent. 
7. Fripp and Eno: Evening Star (1975) This is the one where dial things back from the other more experimental - but weirdly fun - one I picked up this year. Pretty, weird, with just a touch of ominous. 
8. D'Angelo: Black Messiah (2015) It's great to hear a band (as opposed to just a singer) chugging through these very funky songs one after the other.
9. Fountains of Wayne: Utopia Parkway (1999) Sharper than their first. Their satire is bolder but manages to retain their humanity.
10. Beyonce: Lemonade (2016) Pretty slick but all that production is put to good use. 

Latecomers like Classic Collaborations with John Coltrane (8 albums!) and The Last Concert by the Modern Jazz Quartet (a double) don't make an appearance. And poor Bill Evans is just too subtle over the course of his 12(!) album collection to crack the top ten. But time is on his side.

Some of the best songs I heard this year can be found here.

Conclusions:

This music is probably even better than I'm saying it is. After all, it had more to do than it would have to in a typical year. It couldn't bring just joy or inspiration. It had to provide a lifeline. That's a lot to ask. Too much, really.

And although there have been glimmers of hope in the last two months, one family member died and another just got Covid, so we are not out of the woods yet.  

I hope 2021 lets us relax a little. But I wouldn't go as far as this.

Be well.

A Bajillion Classic Albums!

Too Much Music, or Please Ignore the Picture of the Cute Kid:

Last time it was about where to draw the line when it comes to music you consider to be your own.

Now I'm wondering about the box sets/compilations/anthologies that will overwhelm you with the sheer volume of music they contain. I've definitely dipped my toe in here with Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier (7 CDs) and Beethoven's Nine Symphonies (5 CDs). 

And I have some friends - yeah you, Nutboy - who think nothing of having every Dylan Bootleg release in existence, and who somehow emerge unscathed and have enough time and brain cells left for other music! 

Because time is the issue here, not money. Not anymore.

I've been stuck on a WHP post on the Beethoven Symphonies for months, and I've had that record for forty fucking years.

It doesn't help that my buying habits have led Amazon to make the following suggestions to me:

Eight Classic Albums by Lee Morgan for $13.54

5 Original Albums by Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers for $16.90

8 Classic Albums by Thelonious Monk for $10.28

Classic Collaborations 1957-1963 by John Coltrane for $13.39

Essential Original Albums by Chet Baker $21.08

And me, like a dog seeing a squirrel, can't help but add them to my Shopping Cart (in the Saved for Later section, thank god).

But note the very reasonable prices for these collections. The prices on the individual albums are pretty good, too, and if I focused on them, one at a time, I'd end up with less music but more I can actually absorb.

But I didn't. Instead, I succumbed to the temptation of the six-CD 12 Classic Albums by Bill Evans thus diving into the deep end of the pool again.

And if I make any more such purchases, does the concept of the single album that has played a central role in my musical life has begun to fade away? And will all of these artists end up getting short-shrift because I can't really listen to any one of them for very long?

Back in 2016, I joked about getting so sucked into the WHP that it might seem I was reading every book ever written and every record ever recorded. As that idiot Morrissey would say, that joke isn't funny anymore.

But Back to Bill Evans, Remember Him?:

Some other important concepts pertaining to this collection:

• Time: A ridiculous 7 hours. Not for him. For me!
• Space: Not terrible, about an inch wide. But it's still an open question if he warrants it.
• Number of Albums: I have this query in Access called "Summary by Artist" which is a quick way of determining who's in my pantheon. It looks something like this:

# Albums	Artist
22	The Beatles
16	Bob Dylan
16	Neil Young
14	The Who
13	Rolling Stones
11	Miles Davis
11	R.E.M.
11	The Kinks
10	Bruce Springsteen
10	Elvis Costello
9	Little Feat

Now, I ask you, is it fair that this young whippersnapper Bill Evans (who I feel I should mention has been dead for forty years) - an artist I don't even know if I like yet - suddenly vaults to the number six spot in one purchase - past other artists like Miles Davis(!), whose albums I purchased one at a time over the course of decades, thus proving their value to me every step of the way?

Uh, what was the question Jaybee? 

Never mind! You get my point.

But Jaybee, What About the, um, Music?

Good Question!

Aside from his work on Kind of Blue, I'm not really familiar with his work. And you know by now not to ask the obvious question: So, why would you then buy 12 fucking albums by him? And all I can say is, I'm the scorpion.

So I will probably NEVER get to the bottom of this small pile of six CDs, so I'll just focus on the first one for now which comprises his first two albums.

New Jazz Conceptions (1956)

Nice, fine technique. Melodic. He doesn't overdo it. But he does mellow out a bit too much on side two.

B+

"Waltz for Debby"

Everybody Digs Bill Evans (1959)

A bit more "sophisticated". What, with all those quotes on the cover he better be. Smooth. Cool. But not much fire. (I just said cool, didn't I??)

He does finish strong with some lyrical tunes, though.

B+

"Peace Piece"

And I'll eventually get to the rest. But based on what I've heard thus far, here is my updated list of favorite jazz pianists:

1. Bud Powell: A great combination of technical mastery and imagination.

2. Thelonious Monk: A bit twisted, technique-wise, but man, what a mind!

3. Errol Garner: Bud Powell for the middle class, in the best possible way.

4. Bill Evans: Technique-wise better than all of the above, but impact-wise less than expected.

5. Art Tatum: Brilliant technique, but too slick by half (whatever that means).

In a word, it's about fun.

And Bill, sorry to say - especially with those forbidding glasses - is not a whole lot of fun. 

The Long View, If I Ever Get To It:

Bill Evans died right around the time John Lennon did, and I remember being in a bookstore overhearing the manager bemoaning the fact that Lennon's death was far more widely known and mourned than Evans, who he considered just as great a talent.

Thems would normally be fighting words but I'm younger than that now. And who knows how I'll feel after immersing myself further? Perhaps my opinion of Bill Evans will eventually be similar. 

The trouble is by then I don't know if I'll have a worthwhile opinion about anything else.

The collection

"My Music":

So what do I mean by this? I don't create music, I only consume it, so when I say "my music" I'm referring to any album, EP, or single I've purchased or received as a gift (or borrowed and never gave back. Sorry, about Pearl and After the Goldrush late Friend Billy Mac!). 

But, as I get older, it’s getting harder and harder to determine what "my music" is. 

In case you didn't know, when you buy an album you don't own the music. The record company or whoever still owns the publishing rights does. (In a perfect world that would be the artist but here we are.) Without getting into the legal terms, the record you bought is just the means by which you can hear the music when you please. So at the risk of nitpicking, you own a single copy of the record, but not the music itself.

But it was still something. 

Books/Records/Space/Time, or The Sanctity of the Collection:

When reading books, I tell people that the ones I buy are too hard to get to because I'm busy reading the ones I got from the library - the ones I have to give back.

With music, it's kind of the opposite - mainly because you only need to read a book once. With music, you should be able to listen to it over and over. In order to do that you probably shouldn't have too much (a relative term, I admit) of it. Just enough to listen to enough.

And I like it that way. That's the type of relationship I want to have with music. I don't want to date it, I want to marry it. I want to take it home and get to know it. So the act of buying it implies a level of commitment - of money and time - you can't have when there's a whole world of music right at your fingertips. 

Some people own a few records. Others have complete, encyclopedic Collections. I occupy the middle ground of having more records than the average person but less than the fanatics. My collection has a small c. I don't just Hoover up anything I see. It's not about size. It's about quality. Or that's at least what men keep telling themselves.

But in this case, it's true. I'd rather have one excellent record than five pretty good ones. I don't need every Neil Young album. Just the great ones. That's plenty.

 
I first realized the importance of this when I sent in for an offer of 25 albums for $15 (plus shipping!). And it was almost exclusively garbage. I threw away all but three. But why throw away anything, you might ask? Isn't it better to have them than not? Won't I get to know and like these records more? I, who previously would have answered Yes, now realized it wasn't true. Bad music takes up too much time, and bad music on vinyl or CD takes up too much space.

Thus you might think I'd welcome downloads. Well...

The Thing:

For the longest time, in order to deliberately play specific music - ie. avoiding the happenstance of the radio - you would use a physical object to do so. And whatever you may hear these days, those things were cool. A vinyl album has liner notes and cover art. The former for us nerds who love the music enough to want to know who contributed to it in some way. The latter for everyone, which itself could be a work of art. (And yes, CDs have them as well, but have you ever tried to read those 6-pt font liner notes? Or hung a CD cover on your wall? Not bloody likely.)

And you had to take care of the physical object. Protect it from harm. But as long as you did you could play it whenever you wanted.

The thing itself has changed over the years. Wax cylinder, Vinyl, reel-to-reel, cassette, 8 track tape, DAT, CD. 

And each medium pulled us further and further away from the physical action of music creation and re-creation. There was a time when artists would record a performance directly onto vinyl. And when you played it, if you listen without the speaker on, you could hear the needle extracting the music from the grooves. 

I remember once hearing a song from a record that was rotating on a portable turntable but without the needle on it. And the song I was hearing wasn't even on the side that was facing up! Turns out a piece of plastic with a sharp (enough) point was rubbing it from below. It wasn't playing through the speaker but I could hear it very well.

With cassettes, the action took place between the tape and the tape head. You could see the tape move over the head but there was nothing you could hear without a speaker. Same with 8 Tracks, although if it was poorly made, much like my record above, you could hear phantom music from a track that wasn't supposed to be playing.

And forget about CDs. You popped those in a magic box and out came the music. And when they skipped good luck finding the smudge that caused it.

Not THE Thing, Exactly:

Even home taping or CD burning still involved having a copy of the thing. I won't go into the differences between the original vs. the copy because you still had a thing, if not the thing. Not great but it would do in a pinch. And you could dry out your ink cartridges for the privilege of printing out a crappy version of the cover art. 

But these copies never make it to my record shelves - because I never really believed I had them - and end up gathering dust in my basement.

Not A Thing, Exactly:

Then came downloading and just playing it from your hard drive.

Then take the next step of buying an album and not bothering to download it at all. It's just up there in the cloud, at the mercy of an old iTunes account whose ID you forgot. Do you own it or don't you? Sorry Mr. Jaybee but that account is no longer active. 

Thanks, Amazon?

On the other hand, I am finding albums by Lightning Hopkins, Nina Simone, Lester Young, and many others that I don't remember ever buying. 

One might this that was cool, too. Just ending up with a bunch of records without even asking for them.

And even though my "research" indicates that the Lester Young record I didn't buy is probably the best one to get by, I'm not playing it, because I haven't (yet) embraced it as "mine"! After all, what if it's a mistake? Will Amazon - which gives itself the power to control and define what is"my music" now - delete all these records when they realize they made an error?

Then where will I be? Yes, I know I could just buy the ones I liked but the whole thing makes me feel less in control, which is important when you're blogging about the sanctity of your collection.

Not A Thing, a Service:

With services such as Amazon Music and Apple Music, for a low monthly fee, you can listen to just about anything you want. And Youtube where you can just look an album up and play it. Sounds great, doesn't it? 

I want no part of it. 

I like knowing what's in the collection and what's not, and having an opinion on it. And I don't want to merge it into a larger Matrix-like musical universe where everything is kind of okay and I don't really know any of it.

If you can hear almost everything, are you really listening to anything? You would hear something once and decide it's boring, never knowing that another listen was all it would take for it to click with you.
When you get to that point you become that despised (by me) person who gets to say such edgy things like "I like all kinds of music", when I know what you really mean is that you don't love any of it.

In the seventies, Philip Roth compared Checkoslovakia to America, saying that in the former nothing is allowed and everything matters, and in the latter, everything is allowed and nothing matters.

I want my music to matter. To me, at least.

The End of the Collection:

And yet it will go away. It will survive me by a little bit but then it'll be gone, too. Yes, a record collection was not only finite but temporary. 

When I'm gone this large and varied set of music that reflects the Uniqueness of Jaybee - is just another person's pile of crap. I mean, Mrs. Jaybee does her best to put up with a lot of it, but when I'm gone, we (well, you) will know what she really thinks of Pere Ubu and Captain Beefheart!

I used to think about this when it wasn’t a real thing. I fantasized about who would get dibs on these amazing records. It went something like this:
Mrs. Jaybee
Brother Pat
Friend Mike

But now that I'm 63, and it is a real thing, I'd have to add a few more names, like my kids.

And each person would take what they wanted and then pass on the rest. I'm SURE there'd be none left after all that, right?

But let's say, no one goes for that Joanna Newsom record (or two or three hundred others). I guess it becomes the stuff of garage sales and used record stores, where a record hopefully becomes part of someone else’s collection.

I've heard it said that everyone dies three times: First, when you physically die, second when your name is uttered for the last time, and then third when someone has the very last memory of you.

For the record collection, it's pretty similar, One is still when you die, but two is when your family, friends, and record collectors take what they want. Three is when the record dealer tosses what he can't sell.

So after I - and my collection - die, do we disperse into the universe like Caesar's last breath? Maybe it doesn't matter. Thanks to mass production, it's not like I have the single, existing copy of anything. Those same records are out there somewhere, part of other people's collections, and live on.

Unlike me.

Corona-chles X: Fuck This Shit

Back in 2016 - when I thought I could afford to - I drowned out the news of the Presidential campaign by immersing myself in my World History Project. 

Yeah, I didn't get around to actually writing a post about it until December but I assure you it was basically all I listened to that summer. 

Well, now it's four years later and there's so much more noise than before. Or is it just that the noise is of more urgent things than before. Last time was urgent in theory. This time is, well, life or death.

I'll admit that, at first, I did try to retreat.

Robert Fripp/Eno: Evening Star (1975)

Under the influence of Brian Eno: Oblique Music, I jumped back into these two dudes who are strange enough individually, but together drive classic rockers bonkers. Maybe that's where I needed to be.

Anyway, this one's prettier than No Pussyfooting and, in retrospect, it's hard to believe what would cause such consternation. If anything it's not weird enough. 

This was made around the time that Eno was more or less inventing ambient music. He'd stay there for a couple of decades and change the musical world in the process. 

So all that's missing are melody, beat, singing, etc. Nothing we can't handle, right?

B+

"Evening Star"

But now it was time to come back to this reality that wasn't going away. So I decided to listen to some brand new music - from 2020!

Fiona Apple: Fetch the Boltcutters (2020)

Ah, Fiona! She started off as a young hottie in her underwear (thanks record company!) but then actually started making good music. Once canceling a tour because her dog died, she is also her own person, and as time goes on she keeps going her own way. God fucking bless her. 

Her music has become spare and piano-driven. The last record had lots of chords and key-banging. This one's got lots of melodic runs that nonetheless lead to ever harder-edged lyrics.

And every time I listen closely I hear something worth my attention. She's pissed off, funny and warm, as she says, and I believe her.

A-

"Under the Table" 

And as long as I was in the moment, as awful as it was, I decided it was time for these guys

Run the Jewels: RTJ4 (2020)

This wasn't scheduled to come out until this fall, but the guys thought its moment had come in the Spring, and how right they were.

As with any rap album worth its salt, this one is political in the best sense of the word. The references are less to where politicians stand and more to how people think and live.

It's all too much for me to absorb right now. I'm not always up for the dense sound and raw anger. That's my fault. But the headphones help.

"Never Look Back"

B+

I'm hoping to enjoy it more in retrospect - of November 3rd, that is.

Corona-chles IX: Trying to Deal

As is probably very clear, my virus strategy has been avoidance. Musically, I mean. (As for the virus itself, wear a mask, you moron!)

I've been going through my vinyl collection, which, locked away in the basement I now happen to be using as an office, is the very definition of avoidance, since I haven't bought vinyl in over thirty years. Hence, the music I was listening to was at least that old.

So I went through it - A to Z - looking for records that were under-heard, under-appreciated, or, after listening again, under-inspired. It was a way of digging into the past without being nostalgic.

It helped me to adapt to the health crisis.

Then I did the full Beethoven (later for him, though), which got me through the transition from a health to a health/economic crisis.

But it wasn't enough as we slid into the health/economic/racial crisis.

So it goes without saying that from February through May I didn't get any new music. That's a long time for me. And then, as we entered June, I thought it was the time.

But I was cautious, opting for the familiar, with Fountains of Wayne's first two records. FOW made one of the great albums of the 2000s Welcome Interstate Managers, and Jaybee Sister Maggie said that these two were even better. 

You don't really get a jolt of adrenaline from the FOWs - more like a sustained wave of pleasure. And they deal in the day to day and often work-related issues we deal with. Unfortunately, the stresses of the current crises were too much for that, and it's only now in late August that I can hear these records, with their thoughtful, often funny lyrics, and their deep musical craftsmanship. By the end of the year - or maybe when we're able to eat out in restaurants and hug - I'll love them.

But until then...

Fountains of Wayne: Fountains of Wayne (1996)

This one lays out the basic strategy of the band, and I'll leave it to rabid fans to determine whether in fact it's the best. There are at least four songs worried about or sympathizing with women, and one where they beg her to "leave the biker" (although I heard it as "banker"). They end it appropriately on a down vibe with "Everything's Ruined".

"Sick Day"

B+

Fountains of Wayne: Utopia Parkway (1999)

Here they get a bit "conceptual" and "satirical", which neither adds to nor detracts from their core strengths. The local references abound, as usual. Musically stronger than the first, but again, not knock your socks off brilliant. But neither am I.

"It Must Be Summer"

B+

My less than bowled over response is partially due to the "too much at once" syndrome that slows my embrace of the music. Maybe one at a time would have been better.

It's not their fault. The FOWs don't do strikingly original music. They follow a formula - guitars, bass and drums - and do it very well. They add a lot of lyrical specificity and show a great deal of empathy for young losers and women. But decency isn't enough. You have to be really good, too, otherwise, why are we listening. Being funny helps, too. They're very sly. Very ironic. But what might have been insufferable from a Brit is quite lovable in a group from the tri-state area.

Well guys, we tried. But the Corona was too strong for us. Under normal circumstances, one can quickly absorb and then enjoy the FOWs and enjoy the summer. But in the current “situation” it’s been uphill.

What to do?

I reached back to an album I picked up in February - before the shit hit the fan - and that I liked a lot, but - buried in the avalanche that was March - I completely forgot about.

It finally occurred to me to try it again.

Purple Mountains: Purple Mountains (2019)

And it was even better than I remembered. But so so sad.

David Berman was going down down down personally, and after this album was released he committed suicide. So this isn't exactly a fun record, but it's sometimes very funny, like when, in the opener, he sings This time I think I finally fucked myself, to an upbeat tune no less. Funny, but he means it. 

Musically, it's nothing revolutionary. Just your standard rock band playing in a standard way. But the lyrics make the whole thing sing.

His nasal delivery reinforces his your-everyday-neurotic persona.

Excellent, but still, maybe not the musical way forward.

A-

"Darkness and Cold"

 

So maybe it was time to hear some voices I've been avoiding.

If the FOWs couldn’t penetrate the fog, how could D’angelo, who I couldn’t forgive for a vague run-in with a gay man decades ago? I kept waiting for an apology but it never came. But the statute of limitations of Jaybee outrage is running out. (Hell, it may run out on Clapton someday.) 

D’angelo: Black Messiah (2015)

I was expecting a soul crooner but what I got was an R&B band-leader who actually plays guitar! And the band is super tight.

He does sing though. And it's a mix of Prince, Funkadelic and a half a dozen others. Nice to get it all in one place.

This very funky record didn’t so much break through the anxiety as burrow underneath it. It doesn’t express outright joy, either, and that’s appropriate in the George Floyd era, too. But the confidence he shows came at exactly the right time. To my surprise, I actively enjoy this record.

It's like listening to a lighter, faster version of There's a Riot Goin' On. It's not on the level of that record, but it's still pretty great.

"1000 Deaths"

A-

 

So things were beginning to turn around! I could actually listen to and enjoy "new" music.

But the big leap would really be if I could handle music of this time.

That'll be next.