Full Disclosure, Part 3: Where I'm Coming From

Music is an obsession for me, so I almost couldn't help but do a better job of staying in the convo than most. If I'm wrong, then I’m just another drunk in the virtual bar. 

My goal is to keep you from being this person, or an old geezer who says things like "Kids These Days". 

But with that in mind, There Are Some Things About Me You Should Know. The following is a list of things that might provide insight into my taste.

I have a bigger-than-average (1,600 or so) record collection, with the inevitable gaps. I don't think I'd want every single record by anybody, and can speak with real authority about none. And I'm willing to accept the general consensus that, say, Dylan (1973) is a horrible album. I did, however, hear his version of "Big Yellow Taxi" and...shudder.

I have my own unique tastes and enthusiasms.

I'd like to think my center of gravity is pop music, but the definition of which changes daily, so to be more specific, I'll say "rock music" - bands that play electric guitars, preferably with some songwriting underneath it. 

Rock 'n Roll should be fun. And if serious it should be very passionate. 

I was always more Allmans/Dead than Zeppelin.

I like guitars that chime and that crunch. Loud, by itself, does nothing for me.

Great technical skill means nothing without good songs. The minimal skill required to put the song across is all that's really needed.

I am way behind on music by African Americans, only enjoying 70s (Funkadelic) in the last 20 years or so, and 80s/90s hip hop about now.

I find music from Africa - at least what I've been exposed to - to be very enticing. Probably because they like their guitars, too. The singing and the beats are a bonus.

I like “old” country music (Hank Williams, Patsy Cline, etc) but even then in small doses. (I don't ever see myself doing a "Country Weekend" at my house.

Modern county music just sounds like watered-down rock 'n roll with cornier guitar playing. Due to sexual - and political - politics, unless there's a female singer, I usually can't get through it.

I usually have my fill of bluegrass after listening to one album a year.

I also don’t see myself doing a “let’s play all my reggae albums today” unless I take up weed during my retirement.

I have a greater tolerance for blues, which I can play all day, but maybe not tomorrow. Not the summer, either.

Electronica would get its own day (by which I mean night).

Ditto ambient. Unless I’m in a depression, then it's for the duration.

Classical is best taken in small doses. But I can imagine a “classical-only winter” in my future.

I look forward to a jazz-only winter. In lieu of that there's always a John Coltrane Day, Thelonious Monk Day (in song title order, just for laughs) Miles Davis Day, etc.

I’m also a big believer in the “Don’t hate disco/funk/EDM, etc. because it’s got a beat, and don’t hate classical because it doesn’t”. It's like hating chicken because it tastes like chicken.

Each of these genres produces both good and bad music. My judgments are based on how well I keep up with the conversation. They may seem all over the place because of that - hating a perfectly pleasant album while loving something that doesn't even make sense to me. I will try to warn you when this happens.

And metal! How could I forget metal? 

Because I want to.

Full Disclosure, Part 2: The Convo

Whatever anyone may tell you about hearing music that absolutely floored them that happens less and less as you get older. But it's not because of the music itself.

Some recent studies have found that we connect most with the music we hear at age fifteen. That's what we'll always look back on wistfully, often with good reason. But if you stopped listening after that, it's highly likely you'll hear something new and have that same feeling. 

And it's not simply that you haven't listened. It's also that the music has changed over time. One of the reasons it changes is that it's not done in a vacuum. There are artists who will hole up in a studio and seemingly out of left field release something that completely changes the game. 

More often, though, it's that an artist releases something that's a little different and listeners respond positively to it. (Let's for the moment forget about the 90% of the time when they react negatively.) The artist is then encouraged to continue to make music in this vein, or even explore further.

Then other artists respond - either through being inspired or wanting to cash in - by producing something like what the first artist did. Suddenly you've got a trend that will either die out or in turn push someone else to try something a little different again, and so on. The music is evolving. (Just call me Jaybee Darwin.)

So what I'm saying is that there is a kind of dialog going on between artists and audiences, with the first group doing something the other group responds to positively. Over time the dialog is such that there are references or even "in-jokes" the artist is confident the audience will get.  

And here (finally) is the critical part: If you drop out of the audience for a while, if/when you come back you might be bewildered by the sound. If however, you don't leave you might find these same sounds to be quite natural.

And if you liken it to participating in a conversation, it's like you're hanging out with friends talking and you step away for a while. When you come back it's unlikely they're talking about the same thing as before so you have to listen to get your bearings again.

With music those periods of stepping away can be years, what with life pulling and pushing at you. 

And, man, when you come back it's jarring. I had a period in the early nineties when the kids were young so loud music was "counterproductive" to sanity, new music was replaced by diapers and formula. 

By then, radio had discovered Classic Rock, and abandoned any pretense of playing anything new except in the strictest chronological sense. The internet was in its infancy. The best it had to offer was "Joe Schmo's All-Time Favorite Albums" on an AOL bulletin board. (Joe, by the way, likes Black Sabbath.) So I read about new music more than heard it.

My absence had an impact - the nineties are highly regarded for grunge, ska, etc. To this day I'm a bit cool to it all. I'm still not crazy about lo-fi guitars or white guys strumming off the beat.

The typical response might be a variation of "Kids These Days". But when you hear yourself saying things your mom and pop said - and I'm sure they were wonderful people - you should know you're in trouble.

But over time I worked my way back into the conversation.

But if you see this guy, don't even try:

Full Disclosure, Part 1: Egrets, I've Had a Few

I was busy patting myself on the back the other day about some clever turn of phrase I came up with, when it occurred to me that my original goal in creating this blog - other than the obvious ones ("Ego Trip", "I'm Smarter Than You", "Avoid Actually Conversing with Humans", etc.) - was to bridge the gap between other people my age and all the great music available to them that they probably didn't know about. 

A recent audit revealed that I suck at this.

The critical idea was to disprove the notion that "there's no good music anymore", by directing the reader to said good music. I felt qualified to do this because, except for a short period in the early nineties, I've kept up with musical developments while my dear readers may not have. This is due to them having a life while I don't

So, while I've been free and easy about telling you that I like something, it might have been more helpful to also have given you the context you might need to determine if you might like it, too.

After all, it's one thing to say "this is a good jazz record" but do you really know what I mean by that? Do you know I love late-fifties small-combo jazz and loathe fusion? And if neither of those two labels means anything to you, have I told you if said record might be a good entry point into jazz? Maybe not.

Thus my grades were based on personal enjoyment and not that of the reader who may be hearing free-acid-bop-dixieland jazz for the first time. As our beloved ex-President would say, who knew?

So who would blame you for just shaking your head/plugging your ears? Besides me, I mean?

I'll continue to grade according to my very specific tastes, but I will try to provide more context/ caveats/caution when needed. That way, when I recommend a jazz record, you will already know what I like, and thus, be able to judge if it's a good bet to check out yourself.

I may even - if so inspired - place the music somewhere on a spectrum of that genre.

Just don't ask for bar graphs, okay?

Oh, and don't buy this record:

That's SO Last Year

Gone are the days when I could put on a record and know exactly how I felt (and would feel) about it. The best I can do after one listen now is to mumble "promising..." to myself.  And even then I'm usually wrong. 

It now takes me at least six listens to get a good handle on a record. Some don't become clear for months. 

And then some just get crowded out by the other records that I can grok more quickly. Hence this post-Jaybee-bie catchup habit I've fallen into.

Since there's no reason to put you through the records I've not yet, ahem, "come to appreciate", I will limit this to those I've deemed worthwhile or better:

Papa Wemba: Mwana Molokai 1977-1997

I caught him on Sunday Night Live with Jules Holland and David Sanborn around 1989, and found him to be "catchy". Now that I've finally gotten this career overview - and a lot of other African albums in the meantime - I think he falls somewhere in-between artists like Franco and Ya Ntesa Dalienst and Le Maquisard. 

The melodies and the guitar lines were simpler and sweeter, and the tempos not quite as frantic. This really brings out the beauty. In a word, poppier.

A-

"Esclave"

Nas: Illmatic (1994)

Perhaps because it was considered a hip-hop classic, I shied away for a long time, given the extreme experiences provided by other classics like Enter the Wu-Tang. (Are you getting as big a kick as I am about a 65-year-old typing those words? Next, I'll be saying things like "Biggie" and "Dre"...)

But this one is nice and "flowy". The words lock in with the rhythm and there are nice snatches of actual melody. Exactly what I like.

It's also consistent - each song has a hook, and each one is a variation on a larger theme, which I take to be common decency in difficult circumstances.

Apparently, it was overshadowed by Biggie (see?) Small's Ready to Die, which also came out that year. Dilettante that I am, I prefer Nas to that very strong medicine the hip hop connoisseurs prefer.

A-

"Life's a Bitch"

Cocteau Twins: Heaven or Las Vegas (1990)

With a gloss so thick, Mrs. Jaybee wasn't even sure they were singing in English. And they may as well not be - they're Scottish. This is shoe gaze for shoe gazers. But it is real purty. Enough to make me curious about how the songs would sound if done acoustically. Pretty good, I think.

But I don't see an Unplugged special in the past or future for them. So I must take the Peter Griffin position.

It's commendable that they are always going for the sublime. It's just they rarely get there. 

B+

"Fotzepolitic"

Dave Holland: Conference of the Birds (1972)

A fine, muscular free jazz record. Not too loose like Ornette Coleman is to my ears, and definitely not smooth like all too much fusion and later commercial jazz.

It's fast and dares you to keep up. Fine by me, as long as I can follow it. The playing is remarkable and gives the lie to the idea that they're just playing wingin' it. And the calm spots give you time to breathe.

A-

"Conference of the Birds"

John Martyn: Solid Air (1973)

I thought this friend of Nick Drake's might wash the taste of Judee Sill out of Mrs. Jaybee's mouth. And she doesn't hate it. She even asks to hear it occasionally.

Between the vocals with a hint of religious ecstasy and a guitar he's not afraid to muck around with, John Martyn's music ends up muted, intense, and bluesy. 

And not embarrassingly so, like all too many white artists who try things like this. It's even got a beat or two.

B+

"Solid Air"

Bleachers: Strange Desire (2014)

Positively Springsteenian in its drama, with an energy level set to "Cheerleader". The trouble is I never did like going to football games.

And due to this, what some might call consistency comes across as monotony. Succeeding at this level requires a single-mindedness of purpose in service of a worthy cause like partying (a la Andrew W.K. link) or anarchy (The Sex Pistols). Here, it's about teen angst. You'd have to be the Beatles to pull that off.

And thus, it's the quieter songs that stick with me.

A good record. If you're in the right mood, very good. 

B+

"Who I Want You To Love"

And now it's on to 2023, where I'm already behind. John Coltrane, The Roots of Jazz Funk, Alvvays, and Rosalia are waiting for me.

Twelfth Annual Jaybee-bies: Journey Through the Past

Executive Summary:

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. 
• Orwell on Truth by George Orwell: Alleged stoolie tells you exactly what he thinks. Lucky for us he can see straight.
• 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): 

• Elizabeth and the Catapult: Taller Children - An excellent singer and band saying the obvious very expertly. They relentlessly pursue their goal of music utterly at odds with whatever I happen to like.

Most Disappointing: 

No music. Some humans, though...

Best Nostalgia:

10cc: Still as funny as when I first heard it and tuneful enough to keep me coming back.

Best Artist: 

Judee Sill, mainly because of neglect over the last 50 years.

The Best of My Year:

1. Wet Leg: Wet Leg (2022): Funny deadpan girls, Serious rock n' roll band.
2. Judee Sill: Abracadabra: The Asylum Years: Stunning melody - courtesy of God, it seems - gets me every time.
3. Yo La Tengo: Fade (2013) Modest and lofi to a fault. But by the end, they've convinced you it was worth it.
4. Spring Heel Jack: Busy, Curious, Thirsty (1997) Relentlessly invention electronica from beginning to end.
5. Ben Webster: King of the Tenors (1956) So simple and straightforward you couldn't be blamed for underestimating it. I know I did. Indelible.
6. Japanese Breakfast: Jubilee (2021): Somebody MUST have already come up with these melodies already, right?
7. Bob Marley: Burnin' (1973): A bit laid back but the songs just modestly pile up one after the other.
8. Dry Cleaning: New Long Leg (2021): The guitar is the star here. The "vocals" add a bit of clove.
9. Max Richter: The Blue Notebooks (2004): Not quite as haunting as Intra but damn close.
10. Lou Reed and John Cale: Songs for Drella (1990): Nice to hear a bunch of songs from these guys. A highlight for both of them.

Honorable Mentions/Also-Rans/Tieds for Tenth: 

• Sonny Sharrock: High Life 
• Thelonious Monk: Monk's Dream 
• Haim: Women in Music, Part III 
• Amyl and the Sniffers: Comfort to Me 

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.

Oh, and it's nice to still have a democracy.

Opposites Detract

 This one is about Lou Reed and King Crimson. 

The reason I wrote that sentence is because those two names have probably never been in the same one. The very idea of it would piss off Lou Reed to no end. And since he can't retaliate, well, he'll have to settle for turning over in his grave. (Wait, wasn't he cremated?)

Anyway, I got these records as presents this year and it occurred to me they couldn't possibly be more different. 

One was recorded at the beginning of a career, the other well into it.

One is bombastic and pretentious, the other calm and matter-of-fact.

One stresses virtuosity and technique. The other is more or less just banged out.

One comprises four or five lengthy epics, the other fifteen shorter ones.

One is a fantasy that would make Tolkien roll his eyes, the other a reportage of a man's life and death.

One I enjoy despite nearly being crushed under its avalanche of sound, the other doesn't give a damn if I like it or not, and is, in fact, damn good.

Even the cover art differs.

One thing they have in common, though, is that Robert Fripp appears to be almost as big an asshole as Lou Reed.

King Crimson: In the Court of the Crimson King (1969)

I remember sitting on Eileen's family's stoop with Eddie and maybe Mike, listening to maybe Cream, when Kevin McGowan came walking up the block with an album he just bought at Korvette's. He pulled it out of the bag to reveal the red (okay, crimson) guy and his uvula (I almost wrote "urethra". What an album that would'a been!) and possibly his adenoids.

Covers being all important back then (summer of 1970?), we were impressed, and admitted it beat out Wheel's of Fire. Over the years I'd hear the title song, and caught a snippet of another on Adolph's Kanye's Mein Kampf Dark Fantasy record. 

But that was it, and all I'd ever hear from almost anyone was "oh, you gotta get it!". And I planned to but held back, probably due to Xgau's D+ grade and review ("...ersatz shit"...).  But finally my curiosity got the best of me.

Firstly, it's a hoot, in a non-fun kind of way. What I mean is that I'm having a hoot at the utter seriousness of it all. Plus I'm impressed that they got to do this at all, in a simpler, more innocent time, when all they had to worry about was wars and assassinations.

I don't mean to be condescending. What the hell do I know anyway?  Greg Lake's singing is endearing, and the rest are great musicians with vision who just don't happen to play music I'm inclined to put on.  It must have sounded wild at the time. Even Awesome actually, back when awesome was enough.

There's plenty of sixties music I happily listen to to this day. But Prog Rock (my fond memories of Nektar's Remember the Future not withstanding) has a built-in expiration date. In what should have been a perfect fit for me, such seriousness is directly aimed at equally serious (i.e., not getting laid) teenagers who will eventually have to lighten up. A sense of humor would help - the music and the teen-ager.

Otherwise, I'm just there for a visit - and the 50th Anniversary edition, with at least three versions of each song, is a long visit - and then I gotta go. 

B+

"Epitaph"

Lou Reed and John Cale: Songs for Drella (1990)

Not very "lyrical". Just a recounting of Andy Warhol's life by two artists who knew him. And it's all the more touching because I don't feel like I'm being coerced into liking it, which is a hazard for tributes of this sort.

The music, too, is right-to-the-point-simple, but with arrangements more varied than what Reed was doing at the time, which was the straight-ahead electric rock and roll of New York. Even at its loudest, this one - like his subsequent Magic and Loss, which also deals with the death of friends - is calmer than any of those records. 

Estranged at the time of Warhol's death, Reed is regretful that they didn't patch things up. He even admits some fault. What a relief! 

Cale is tuneful and stoic, even with Lou breathing down his neck. Who knew they'd be able to play together again? Not them, certainly. They would take another stab at fellowship after this, with the European reunion tour of the Velvet Underground. It's a shame that one didn't turn out so well as this. 

I guess, in order for it to work, it's got to come from the heart.

A-

Thank God

The Jesus People showed up in our neighborhood in late 1974. I was seventeen. How do I remember you ask? 

Well, one of them mocked me for having the latest issue of Rolling Stone with me instead of the Bible. It would have been futile to explain that I just had to read the review of Jackson Browne's new album, Late for the Sky. (A rave, of course.)

She was the bad cop among many good cops who tried instead to inspire me to accept Jesus. How could I explain, after having gone to 8am mass every weekday from fourth through eighth grade I had probably spent more time with JC than all of them combined? 

They were talking about quality time, I guess. (One's mind does wander a bit during the eucharist.)  But I think we all know what an overrated concept that is, even now that it's dressed up as "mindfulness". 

I promised I would think about it that night. In doing so I concluded that JC and I had already worked out a perfectly good arrangement, which was to acknowledge each other's existence with a nod and a wave when we passed each other on Fifth Avenue and pick up a round at the bar. My creed amounted to something along the lines of "Let's Just Give Each Other Some Space, Okay?". 

So how was I going to explain this to the Jesus People? But that's when the Miracle happened.

I never saw them again.

The six of them had been ensconced in a loft above the A&P right across from Johnny's Pizzeria where I hung out. So I figured they'd be around for a while. But no. They dropped off the face of the earth. Did the rapture occur and I didn't know it? 

Can you imagine my embarrassment if I had accepted Jesus only to find myself the lone Jesus Person in Sunset Park? I guess I assumed I would live with the cult little group in the loft. That itself would have been an issue as at the time I was spending way too much time in the bathroom trying to get my hair just right. (High school-era photos indicate I failed.)

Anyway, after listening to the record below, I realized how the Jesus People might have succeeded in converting me if they had only written some good songs.

Judee Sill: The Asylum Years 

Now that's quite the title, isn't it? Rest assured, they're talking about the record label, not the place. 

As a matter of fact, Sill's first album was the first one ever put out by Asylum. It would soon be followed by ones by (well whaddya know,) Jackson Browne, Joni Mitchell, and the Eagles.  This two-CD set consists of her two Asylum albums plus a bunch of demos and live versions. The consistency in quality throughout is remarkable, and I have no problem playing it all the way through. 

I should point out that Mrs. Jaybee - the more religious of one of us - is not on board. (Heathen!)

Now, I'm so agnostic I'm agnostic about agnosticism. As such, I'm not very into gospel music (although I'll admit I'm missing something) and not at all into "Christian Music". There's a very practical reason: listening to someone get praised is boring (except - oddly enough - "Praise You" by Fatboy Slim).

One of the few books I put down without finishing was The City of God, by St. Augustine, because it just goes on about how great god is. And since the author is speaking directly to God my BS detector went off and it smelled like one huge suck-up.

But someone who is plain-spoken in her faith and writes great melodies that span folk, country, and gospel, will always have my ear. Add to that, a good voice and clean, simple production and consistency and it's hard to resist, no matter how much I doubt. 

One caveat is that her beliefs could be categorized as "old-time religion" - referencing lambs, soldiers of love, Jesus as bridegroom, and even the rapture. She'd give the Jesus People a run for their money.

A complicated person, to say the least, there are even some drug references in these songs. This would later come back to haunt her. A serious car accident got her addicted to painkillers and she died in 1979 of an overdose.

I wish I had known at that time. I would have prayed for her.

A

"Crayon Angels"