Neil Young’s Blue Period, or Why “Tonight’s the Night” is Better Than “Harvest”

I ran into a friend in late 1978, a short time after Neil Young released “Comes a Time”, and we both agreed that it was great that Neil had finally come out with another pretty record. It had been a long time since “Harvest”, and we just didn’t get that other stuff he was doing for a while… I guess I’ve changed my mind since then.

Don’t get me wrong. I like pretty. I’ll even tolerate pretty but dumb, but not pretty and offensively dumb. This is not a philosophical quibble. Who wants to be around the perkiest person in the room? After a while, you want to punch them in the face. The miserable bastard, however, is great to be around when he’s in a good mood. That‘s why my favorite pretty Neil Young record is, well, “Comes a Time”, but later for that.

Neil went from being an FM darling to a hit maker (only one, really – “Heart of Gold”) to an FM darling that everyone was hoping would produce another hit. His fans were extraordinarily patient, and he used to drive them crazy at concerts by playing whatever the hell he felt like – usually brand new or unreleased stuff - to the exclusion of what people may have come to hear.

But are we talking about his CSNY songs? Not really. Buffalo Springfield? As great as they were, most of his fans by now thought that they were the band that Paul McCartney was in before Wings. So that left his solo stuff. His first record was good but the only one people remembered from it was “The Loner”. “Everybody Knows This is Nowhere” was sharper, and came out when long guitar solos were still big. It didn’t hurt that the songs were really good. They get even better on “After the Goldrush”. And even though there’s less guitar, it’s still clear as a bell and very, very soulful, even in the quiet parts.

Obviously “Harvest” was very popular, but I wonder how many people loved it. It’s certainly got some good songs (“Old Man”, “Needle and the Damage Done” and “Harvest”) but the rest of it is kind of bland. I just hear a lot of pedal steel, or worse, orchestras. When it wasn’t serious, it was awfully mellow. Okay, that’s enough to make a lot of people happy, and it was such a hit that it would give him the momentum to go off the beaten path for a while without suffering too much commercially.

Without going into the exact order of events, let’s say that life pointed Neil Young the artist towards a darker side, which he explored over several records with no hits on them. People kept buying them because Neil was the Great White Hope before people knew they were looking for one. (What were they going to do, buy Steven Stills records?) Then Springsteen came along, and Neil was off the hook.

But here’s a reminder of what he accomplished while he was off the beaten path:



Time Fades Away

Time Fades Away
A live album of all new material, it’s not quite a great album, but it is quite good. It’s also the first clear indication that Neil was turning his back on slickness. He’s also keeping a firmer grip on rock and roll, which, frankly, was becoming more problematic for those who preferred CSN to Y. By now, Danny Whitten, the guitarist from Crazy Horse, is dead, so Neil uses Ben Keith on pedal steel. But this time around, instead of sentimentality, it conveys chaos and desperation.



 Tonight's the Night

Tonight’s the Night
A dark night of the soul, and not a good place to be for very long, but it’s his best record. “New Mama” is as beautiful as anything he’s ever done. “Albequerque” sums up his take on stardom. “Roll Another Number” disposes of Woodstock in the space of a verse. “Tired Eyes” is the climax, and Neil’s rarely done a record as soulful, even if he and the band don’t hit all the right notes. “Mellow My Mind” is the dark heart of the record. “World on a String” is so primal that it’s hard to believe it was done in the Have a Nice Day Seventies. (Neil wasn’t the only one exploring this territory, though. There’s also Sly Stone’s “There’s a Riot Goin’ On” and Big Star’s “Third”. Don’t listen to these records all at the same time.) It’s understandable why a lot of people didn’t like Tonight’s the Night when it came out. It definitely wasn’t pretty. Not lazy, either – drunk yes, but lazy no. And in 1975, when most of us were moving away from rock and roll, this record lands squarely in it.






On the Beach

On the Beach
A strange experiment. Nothing here is quite right. A fairly straightforward rocker, like “Walk On” gets a little goose from a slide guitar. “See the Sky About to Rain”, done better both by the Byrds, and Neil himself on solo piano on a very powerful bootlegged live version, is kind of anesthetized here. The rest of side one is not bad. It’s kind of funny, weird and topical. But it’s really side two that gives off the eerie glow. “On the Beach” and “Motion Pictures” are slow, quiet and hypnotic, if you give them a chance. “Ambulance Blues”, on the other hand, doesn’t care if you like it or not, and it’s one of his greatest songs. It’s late night music. Actually recorded after, but released before “Tonight’s the Night”, it’s like the hangover after a particularly nasty binge.

Zuma

Zuma:
Most of his demon’s exorcized (but not the misogynist one), Neil reforms Crazy Horse and plays it straight, for him, anyway. I prefer “Danger Bird” to “Cortez the Killer”, which is saying something. “Barstool Blues”, “Pardon My Heart”, “Lookin’ for a Love” and “Through My Sails” are all great. As loud as it can sometimes get, it still strikes me as one of his calmest records. Was Neil in rehab? I doubt it.





 American Stars 'N Bars (Reissue)

American Stars and Bars:
Neil seems to be gathering strength here. Half a new album (“Hey Babe”) and half bits and pieces lying around “Like a Hurricane”, “Star of Bethlehem”. Only with Neil will the bits and pieces be better. The other gems are “Bite the Bullet” and the great , strange “Will to Love”.



 Decade

Decade:
This is one of the few triple disc sets that I could listen to all the way through. (I think it fits on two CDs though). It skimps a bit on the dark side, but makes up for it with the previously unreleased stuff (“Deep Forbidden Lake”, “Winterlong”, “Campaigner”). Plus it’s got almost all of his best songs from Buffalo Springfield.



 Comes A Time

Comes a Time:
The cover shows a smiling, older and wiser-looking Neil. You know by now that he’s been through hell, so the simple melodic beauty is breathtaking. It’s as though he’s saying You want pretty? I’ll give you pretty. I’m better at it than anyone else! And he’s right.


So it’s a happy ending, if you see “Rust Never Sleeps” as a vindication, which it is. And although the rest of his career is uneven to say the least, it's also very interesting. But we probably agree on that. My point is that you may not appreciate the above records, even though you probably own a lot of them already. So go down to the basement and get them out! I think you’ll find they are like antique furniture that may have not looked as pretty as new furniture at the time. But a lot of that other stuff is looking awfully tacky now, whereas Neil's has stood the test of time.

Sometimes the Wife is Right – Ian McCulloch’s “Mysterio”

Occasionally my wife reminds me that all the good music drifting through our house doesn’t originate solely from my CDs. She has a habit of telling me things I don’t want to hear.

Once, she told me that she heard of REM before I did. I scoffed at this. I had naturally assumed that she liked them because I, her boyfriend, liked them, and that she’d follow me anywhere. Or something like that.

The city we’re in is known for its music scene, but our radio stations were and are still pathetic. But the Mrs. reminded me that, at the time, her job took her out of town, where she got the reception to bring in the station that played “modern rock”, like Depeche Mode, the Cure, the Smiths, U2, New Order and, um, REM. So while her assertion can’t possibly be right, it might be technically true.

But back to her first assertion. She reminded me of an album she got that I had held out little hope for, Ian McCulloch’s “Mysterio”. Ian played guitar for Echo and the Bunnymen, a band I’ve never quite gotten. So the idea of sitting through one of their solo albums wasn’t very appealing to me. I was resigned that the ongoing pollution of my record library was to continue in this way. (It all began with the Great Merge of the record collections that took place right after we got married.)

I like my guitars chiming, which is why I don’t really love grunge or heavy metal the way I’m supposed to. Those bands play chords that are heavy and flat, more percussive than tuneful. The distortion dulls and limits the sound rather than expands it. Power chords without any real power.

But Ian likes his guitars chiming, too. And echoey! He seems cool to an old guy like me because he’s got that “modern” sound that’s been around for about thirty years now, and although there are three guitar players, this record’s bigger on tone than on decibel. Spacey rather than loud, it can be played at any volume and it sounds good. If you have company over, you can lower the volume and still hear the higher trebly notes. If you want rock and roll, you can turn it up and make a good noise. It’s a great record to put on during the summer with the windows wide open.

Something tells me to avoid delving too much into the lyrics. Ian only puts one verse of each song in the booklet, as if to say, c’mon, you’re here for the guitars! One of them goes:
“one and one and five make seven,
One and one and three make five…”
Although I can’t fault the arithmetic as such, I’ll assume that there’s some algebra that brings it all together eventually, but I haven’t noticed it yet. The rest seems kinda portentious, or pretentious, or something, I don’t know. So there’s a silliness factor to be considered, or ignored. And if the guitars sound good enough, I say ignore away.

This record has made me slightly more inclined to try out Echo and the Bunnymen, but I haven’t taken the plunge yet. For now, Ian McCulloch by himself is just the right combination of silly and fun. One guy can take himself too seriously if he plays real good. I don’t know if I can deal with four of them, though.

Despite all my snide remarks to the contrary, I have to admit that this is a very easy record to listen to. So, in the words of many a husband before me, Yes, dear.

Hit by a Train: Old 97s "Satellite Rides"

Cover of Satellite Rides
Out on the road today,
An “Old 97s” sticker on a pickup truck,
A voice inside my van said “don’t look back! You know, you never could drive…”

Hey, what do you think? I actually did see an “Old 97s” sticker on a pickup truck. So that makes me the new Don Henley, right? OK, moving on…

It was August of 2002, and I had just received my order from BMG (my record club). I was feeling buyer’s remorse, punishing myself, as I always do, with the self loathing that will ensure that I do exactly the same thing in three months. I do this by putting myself through a litany of questions, like:

Why, or why, did I buy yet more music?
Shouldn’t I have enough CDs by now?
And with 9/11 last year, aren’t there more important things I should be thinking about?
Shouldn’t I be saving up for my children’s education?

And yet, there I was with yet another CD by yet another pop band. I mean, really, how good could it be? Etc. So you’re probably thinking, just return it, right? What, are you nuts?

When I got over myself and put it on, I proceeded to have that all too rare experience: knowing, on the first listen, that I was hearing a great album. How could this be? Haven’t all the great songs been written already? Isn’t rock and roll dead? Isn’t there really nothing left to say anymore? So why do I keep hearing all of these good songs when I just want to sit here and be miserable? Yeah, I’m a lot of fun to be around.

I’m talking about the Old ‘97s – named after a train, which is apt - and their fifth album, “Satellite Rides” (2001). I understand that they started out leaning towards the “country” end of “country-rock”. By the time I caught up with them here, they were leaning the other way. Their prior record, the slightly more country oriented “Fight Songs”, is very, very good. It has some high points that are even better than anything here, but this one is more consistently great.

Rhett Miller is the pretty-boy singer, who is also the pretty-brainy songwriter. He has the energy and the voice to put these songs over, and never seems to run out of hooks.

The first song - “King of the World” – is typical. It has just way too much energy. It starts with a crack of the drums and before you know it, the guitar player is right in your face. And why is Rhett so happy? Well, partly because they recorded it before 9/11, but mainly ‘cause his girl makes him feel like, you know, James Cameron, I guess. But where’s the irony? (I need irony in case the artist turns out to be just marginally talented.) But instead of that, they go for a key change, which revs it up even more. What, he wasn’t happy enough?

And these lyrics! He actually sings “Don’t count me out, ‘cause I’ve got your number” and gets away with it, because the band knocks you over before you had the chance to think about it. By the time you do, you are totally buying it.

On “Rollerskate Skinny”, they do it again. At the end of it, Rhett sings “I believe in love, but it don’t believe in me” over and over gain. And instead of laughing at the self pity, you’re singing along. Maybe that’s the irony I was looking for, thrown in as an added bonus.

So by the time “Bird in a Cage” comes around (“I may be a bird in a cage, but at least it’s your cage.”) sadness is just not an option.

“What I Wouldn’t Do” to be friends with you. Friends. Yeah sure. Great rock and roll, though. “Question” is a ballad about popping the big one, and it earns every bit of the emotion it gets out of you. And it won’t make the guys squirm, either. And if you like philosophy, there’s “Weightless”.

About the band: the guitar player isn’t a virtuoso, but he’s so single minded that his solos hit like a hammer on nails. And the drummer is always there to say, you will pay attention! I haven’t noticed the bass player yet, but I believe that’s his job.

And they really know how to deploy harmony, too. Unlike some artists who use it like ketchup on a hamburger, they only put it where it counts, like when it will make a simple chord change feel like you’re driving down a hill too fast. Yeah, that feeling down there!

All of these elements come together to turn perfectly good songs into great ones. This is not just stupid, good-time, party music, but if that’s your thing, just ignore the words. Rhett sneaks in stuff about break ups, infidelity and even death. But the music does what great music always does - it admits to how lousy life can be, but by its very existence says, isn’t it great, anyway?

And that’s exactly the message I needed at the time. “Satellite Rides” threw a bucket of cold water on my post 9/11 depression and reminded me that it was still possible to have a good time.

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Now playing: Old 97's - King of All the World
via FoxyTunes

My 2007

Around now, a lot of young people are reveling in the year-end best-of reviews of music and pop culture in general. Debating siblings and friends about what album was the best one released in a given year is a fun way to participate in the culture. It used to be for me, at least.

But at my advanced age, I can’t possibly keep up with all of the musical developments of the year. There are just too many artists to keep track of to be able to weed out the great from the merely worthwhile. And the term “worthwhile” takes on an added urgency when you realize that you don’t have many “whiles” left as you used to. So the things you spend it on – musical or otherwise – better be, well, worth it.

So I’ve left 2007 pretty much alone, letting the dust settle on it before jumping in. Instead, I’ve begun to dip into 2006, along with any other pretty colors that may have momentarily attracted my limited attention span.

So I have to define the musical year differently. My 2007 is not based on what was released this year. It’s based on what I either bought or was given. So it couldn’t be anything like yours.

Anyway, here’s mine:

Loved Them:

I’m not yet sure if either of these CDs is hall of fame material yet, but the Go-Betweens go deep and Polly Jean has a high on base average.

Oceans Apart-The Go Betweens (2006)
Beauty, pain, death, tears, and maybe forgiveness. Guitars, too. Never heard of them? Don’t get me started…

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Now playing: The Go-Betweens - Darlinghurst Nights
via FoxyTunes

Stories of the City, Stories of the Sea-PJ Harvey (2000)
I’ve gotten two of her earlier albums: “Rid of Me”, which is like knocking off a bottle of scotch on a Saturday night with a psychotic/nymphomaniac, and “To Bring You My Love”, which is like spending Sunday morning with her, after she’s found religion. Both can be bracing experiences, but aren’t my idea of fun. Here, you get hit with the chiming guitars right out of the gate, and she’s telling you how she’s got to get away from the violence. So she moves from England. To New York. Before 9/11. So her timing's not great, but the important thing is that she’s upped the tune factor, and cut back slightly on the histrionics. The result is bracing, but in a fun way.

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Now playing: PJ Harvey - You Said Something
via FoxyTunes

Really Good:

These are very entertaining records that might yet move up to Love over time.

Pink Moon - Nick Drake (1972)
This is sparer than “Five Leaves Left” – no strings, just Nick and his guitar - maybe because he’s closer to the end.

Solo Monk - Thelonius Monk (1964)
If you don’t know what a great composer he was, you could mistake him for a Scott Joplin for the 60s. You might even think he’s hitting the wrong notes, but he’s just re-writing things as he goes.

Still Getting My Ears Around:

Egypt - Youssou N’dour (2004)
This is the guy (yes, the guy) who sings at the end of “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel. He’s a superstar in his native Senegal, and I quite liked his album “Nothing’s In Vain”, but I’m not even close to getting to the bottom of this very pleasant mixture of Middle Eastern and African music.

Fox Confessor Brings the Flood - Neko Case (2006)
This is pretty and spooky at the same time - like a country music soundtrack to “Twin Peaks”. And when spread out over a humongous playlist in Windows Media Player, each song stands out. I’m just not yet convinced that all the individual parts add up to a great CD.

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Now playing: Neko Case - Hold On, Hold On
via FoxyTunes

The Discount Bin, or Hey, at $6.99, how can you go wrong?

Aoxomoxoa - The Grateful Dead (1969)
The songwriting is beginning to strengthen, and they never sounded so muscular in the studio. Only one laughable track. (Hey, they were on drugs at the time.) And the bonus jam tracks are very good.

Disappointments:

Neon Bible - Arcade Fire (2007)
Actually quite good, just not as powerful as it’s trying to be. And a letdown after "Funeral".

Live at the Apollo - James Brown (1962)
I really shouldn’t complain. It is James Brown live after all. But it’s short, so a greatest hits collection (like “30 Golden Hits”, or the 4 CD box set “Start Time” would be better. Definitely not bad, but sometimes live albums make you feel like you had to be there.

Return to Cookie Mountain - TV on the Radio (2006)
It’s got tons of sound, and is occasionally striking, but too often is just a lot of noise. And the singing isn’t good enough. But I’ll keep trying.

What I Got for Christmas:

This amounts to a subset of “Still Getting My Ears Around”. This is where I ask for gifts that I’d feel too guilty just getting for myself. There’s usually some experimentation here, which can be cause, during the cold winter months, for joyful immersion or deep depression as I ask myself just what kind of weird music I’m getting myself into. But as our use of the word “weird” is merely a reflection of our own provincialism, I carry on proudly, feeling superior to all around me. And isn’t that the point of life?

So I won’t know what I’ve got until at least March.

Spring Hill Fair - The Go Betweens (1986)
Will this be yet another classic from the Australian band of the 80s? Yeah, you heard me. You can keep your INXS, Men at Work, etc.

John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers, featuring Eric Clapton – (1966)
Bitchin’ blues guitar from a post-Yardbirds and pre-Cream Clapton, and crappy singing from Mayall. Next year, I’ll go back to the originals that are covered here.

Brazil Classics, Volume 4: The Best of Tom Ze (1970s)
Gentle, but strange Tropicalia.

The Rough Guide to Youssou N’dour and Etoile Dakar (1980s)
A long vacation in Senegal.

I suppose that I ought to have a “Bad” category, but I rarely feel like I’ve gotten something that falls into that category. This may seem like the denial of a grim reality – bad music – but I guess I’m just too pig headed. I’ll force myself to listen to something over and over until I get it. Sometimes I never do. It’s great!

I got fourteen CDs altogether this year, and by my rough count, they average out to about 20 years old each. This gives the lie to my blog’s description, which refers to “current pop music”. But let’s face it, you don’t think in terms of years anymore, anyway. You think in terms of decades. Ouch!

It was an average year. I wish that there were a few more “Love”s. The great years are the ones where I get a truckload of music and five or six Loves rise to the top. I find that, unlike most things, more music is better.

Well, that was my 2007. How was yours?

Sound Advice - Belle and Sebastian's "If You're Feeling Sinister"

The other night, while watching one of those VH1 Top something of the 80s, I couldn’t get over how similar all of the music was. Regardless of style or genre, it was all very, very…busy. Everyone seemed to be trying to fill up every last bit of aural space available - sometimes with volume, but mostly with…stuff. There must have been a fear of leaving any moment empty of sound, as if an occasional silence couldn’t contribute to the overall musical effect.

Since this was the era of the music video, the feeling may have been that although the video image was meant to complement the music, it was really competing with it – sort of an updated version of radio’s fear of “dead air”, where even a moment of silence could cause a potential listener to bypass your station. Instead, in this case, it was feared that any letup in the sound would give the image the chance to take over. But I can’t say that the resulting information overload ever conveyed a performance as real or as intimate as the most over-the-top show stopper from an MGM musical. And I hate musicals.

I’ve got nothing against commercial music, and even consider 1984 (Springsteen, Prince, Cyndi Lauper, Tina Turner) a banner year for it. And there’s nothing inherently wrong with a professionally recorded album. Michael Jackson’s “Off the Wall” and the Pet Shop Boys’ “Very” are terrific records, as slick or even ornate as they might be, because they are also full of emotion.

And loud is good. too. I caught the Clash at Shea Stadium, opening for the Who, in 1982. The latter were well past their prime, but they had the sound system needed to fill that huge space. I hate to admit it, but that night, they were better than the Clash. Even if the Clash used the Who’s equipment, I doubt that they would have been better. It just seemed to me that their music was better suited to a smaller space, like Bond’s, where I had seen them the year before, to much better effect. But that night at Shea belonged to the Who.

I have more of a problem with what I call the “arena” sound, which is when an artist’s original conception of their music is based on it being played in a huge arena. I suppose if you’re very famous, thinking this way makes a lot of sense, but I’m referring to a sound I identify with the “hair bands” and commercial heavy metal music, which is hard to imagine being played in a club or even mid-sized auditorium. I guess it’s “rock” music, in the strict sense of hardness, but I wouldn’t call it rock and roll, which should connote motion and joy. Tens of thousands of people shaking their fists in unison reminds me more of a Nazi-rally than a party. Or maybe I’m just a snob that hates crowds. In any case, more is not necessarily better.

So my preference is for something more modest, more intimate. That doesn’t mean that it has to be quieter, though. I mean something that sounds like it’s being played in a space that accommodates somewhat less, actually way less, than 50,000. Joy Division’s “Dead Souls” (from “Substance”, or the soundtrack to “Control”) sounds like it was recorded in a padded room from which the singer is desperately trying to escape. The guitarist is trying to help him by playing louder than anyone I’ve ever heard, and not just because he’s turned the amp up to 11 – everyone does that - but rather because it’s all happening in this very finite space. It feels like the walls are about to crash down around you. Another example of this is “Just Like Honey” by the Jesus and Mary Chain (from “Psychocandy”, but it can also be heard at the end of “Lost in Translation”), which conveys a somewhat larger room, but one that is still going to collapse anyway. With all of the distortion and echo, the guitar is so loud that it’s almost funny, especially since the singer sounds like he just woke up.

My favorite music has all of the accompaniment that it needs – but no more and no less. It’s true to itself, not necessarily the company you’re having over. So sometimes it’s best to listen to this music alone.

I notice this a lot with older albums. They have a hard time competing with the clarity that current recordings are capable of, let alone the ones that insist on throwing everything at you. I sometimes have to brace myself when I’ve bought an old album because I’m afraid that the sound quality will be an obstacle to the enjoyment of the music. It’s important to get past that if you ever hope to enjoy music recorded more than a couple of decades ago. Of course, this is irrelevant to most people, who are perfectly happy with what is put right in front of them. “But,” as the Beautiful South say, “you want more!”

There are many older albums, like “Layla”, that have quite a lot going on inside, but that don’t sound busy. Maybe that’s because it can’t yield those details with perfect clarity anyway. Over the years, I’ve gotten it three times - twice on vinyl and once on CD – each time assuming it would be a little clearer. And it was, sort of. Yet, it seemed to have this impenetrable core that I wanted to somehow pierce without ruining. (We do “murder to dissect”, after all). But “Layla” is a great example of music that will not be dissected. The core of it is there but I’ll never quite make it out.

And yet there are a number of current artists who accept, and actually embrace, similar limitations in sound quality. They don’t worry that all of the musical details get through the speakers in pristine condition, instead counting on overall impact. This approach – sometimes called lo-fi – has been around ever since the punk era, and is a virtual guarantee that the record will not get much airplay. (Radio audiences don’t like to have to keep playing with the volume knob.) But I think these artists are trying to make music you can’t get to the bottom of.

When the lo-fi approach is used now, the artist may be using a deliberate strategy to evoke the sound of an era for which lo-fi was a given, not a choice. In other words, it’s a cheap shortcut to a certain audience’s emotions. You could even argue that, with better recording techniques available now, lo-fi is used to cover up bad technique, with the result that it also covers up potentially good music.

What really matters, though, is the final result. Just try to think of bad lo-fi music as the racket coming out of your neighbor’s house. Good lo-fi is the racket coming out of yours.

And besides, some lo-fi records are actually kind of pretty. There are albums with music that is so great that it takes me a while to realize that the recording isn’t crystal clear.

One great example of this is “If You’re Feeling Sinister” by Belle and Sebastian. This is one of those rare records that will bring you back to a time that may have never existed in the first place. It might sound a bit muddy compared to other contemporary CDs, but it will sound quite pleasant to those of us who used to listen to their music on portable record players.

That evocation of another time is also managed by the use of certain instruments that were in vogue at that time. B&S manage to avoid the more obvious ones, like the farfisa organ or - god help us - the sitar. They prefer instead to add a touch of electric piano or even vibes, and that makes all the difference between what is merely pleasant, and what is haunting.

But B&S won’t let you off with mere nostalgia. Their subject matter is a little more modern. There’s the cool but admiring one about the “beautiful people”, the couple who thought they were seeing other people but maybe aren’t, and the woman who’s into bible studies and S&M. And it’s hard as heck to keep the genders straight. So by the time you hear “The Fox in the Snow”, the emotion is well earned.

When I first put this record on, I had to turn it way up because it starts off at a whisper. The first song slowly builds in volume, all the while unfolding its melody, until, like a wave at the beach, it knocks you down and washes you away. Several other songs pull at you like the undertow before you realize how far out you are.

I’ll admit that it can be a bit precious, and the singing’s occasionally weak. There’s the bad joke (rhyming “minister” and “sinister”) in the chorus that takes away from the otherwise beautiful title song. “Me and the Major” tries to fit in too many lyrics into the flow of the music. And “Get Me Away From Here” is fun until you hear “I’m dying” a dozen times. It reminds me too much of the Smiths.

But there are at least three absolute classics (“Seeing Other People”, “Like Dylan at the Movies” and “Fox in the Snow”) here, and a couple of others that come close, although we’d probably disagree about which are which.

So, even with some minor flaws, it’s still one of the best records of the 90s (or is that the 60s?). And as beautiful as I think this music is, I don’t play it for company. Belle and Sebastian are a very private pleasure.

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Now playing: Belle and Sebastian - Seeing Other People
via FoxyTunes

Are You Passionate? - The Arcade Fire

I got an exhilarating glimpse of passionate music from two different video clips on YouTube the other night, both involving the Arcade Fire. The first clip featured them live in concert, performing “Keep the Cars Running” - a song from their second album, “Neon Bible”. They were joined onstage by none other than Bruce Springsteen, who fit in perfectly with these young Canadians. This was a Springsteen song if ever there was one. It’s just that someone else wrote it.

The second clip featured the Arcade Fire on stage, this time with U2, whom they toured with recently. They were performing Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart” – a song that alone makes up for all of the cheesy synthesizer moves in pop music over the years. But no one was playing a synthesizer in this clip. It was just a bunch of people playing a song they loved with the instruments at hand.

So in the space of two clips, they pulled together four strands of “passionate music”. That should be a redundant term - music is supposed to be passionate, and many artists spend a lot of time trying to simulate it. (I’m no purest, though. I’ll take a good fake over genuine garbage any day.) So whatever you may think of the artists in question, I’m willing to believe that they mean it – that they put it on the line every time.

I like clever as much as the next guy. Funny is good, too. Loud and fast is great. But passionate is best. It burns out, it doesn’t rust.

Such artists are easy to spoof, but that’s the risk they take and I deeply respect them for it. And Arcade Fire, fits right into this category. There are parts on both of their albums when it seems like the singer has gone off the deep end, and the band is right there behind him. This can seem ridiculous at times, but that’s the high wire act they perform on.

Their first record, “Funeral”, could remind you of early Talking Heads, carrying on that grand tradition bands led by complete lunatics. Win Butler’s voice does not always make it up to the register he insists on singing in. But that’s okay. He practically starts crying on the very first song (“Tunnels”). But, damn, if you don’t get totally swept up in it. “Laika” sounds like a gypsy caravan has crashed into your house. “Power Out” is anything but. “Wake Up” and “Rebellion (Lies)” could raise the dead. And it all ends with the beautiful and powerful “In the Backseat”.

But there are several quieter moments, like “Haiti” and “Kettles”, throughout. This contrast in tone is one of the reasons why “Funeral” is a stronger record than “Neon Bible”. The quiet spots make the peaks seem all the higher.

I do like the second one a lot, too, but it’s more like a Springsteen or U2 album, and I miss the quirkiness. I think the problem with it is epitomized by “Intervention”, which begins with a church organ. It’s hard to rev it up further when that’s your starting point. It’s a perfectly good song, and I suspect that it’s brilliant when played live.

“Neon Bible” does have its great moments like “Keep the Car Running” and “No Cars Go”. The finale, “My Body is a Cage”, is fine, but it’s got that damned church organ. “Funeral”s finale - “In the Backseat” – by contrast, settles for a rock-and-roll-with-violin arrangement to much greater effect. And this is the other reason why “Funeral” is the better album. The instrumentation is more limited, but they do more with it.

But maybe I’m mistaken. Perhaps number two has a more powerful overall sound. The issues are less private and more political. Maybe that will resonate more with you than with me.

In any case, the Arcade Fire reach for, and often achieve, a level of emotional urgency are that are undeniable. In this day of calculated effect, they will not settle for entertaining you. Judging from the video clips I saw, their concerts are transcendent.

Their music can be a little uncomfortable but it’s because they are asking you, are you passionate? They sure are.

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Now playing: Arcade Fire - Rebellion
via FoxyTunes

Santa Claus vs. The Go-Betweens - Christmas Music

There are two basic types of Christmas music - official and personal. You are aware of the former but may not recognize the latter.

First, a clarification: I’d call it holiday music, but I don’t know a damned thing about Hannukah or Kwanzaa, and when was that last time you heard a Thanksgiving song, anyway? So I hope you’ll bear with me when I simply call it Christmas music.

Official Christmas Music:

This is the music that pertains to the holidays. You know what I mean - the stuff you begin to hear in the shopping malls right after Labor Day. It goes into heavy rotation from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day. If it’s played again after that, mass suicides are sure to ensue.

Once Thanksgiving passes, the wife and kids can’t wait to put Official Christmas Music (OCM) on in the house. I don’t see the point myself. If you’re going to be bombarded with it outside why bring it inside? I don’t want to hear OCM until Christmas Eve at six pm, when I’ve finally gotten my shopping done and I can get into the holiday spirit. (This lasts about eighteen hours.)

In mid-December 1979, while my roommate, his girlfriend and I were decorating our tree, I decided to put on some music. I picked something pretty, but definitely non-Christmas. I thought that the tree trimming combined with the music would be sufficient to get us into a holiday mood that we could call our own. To me, those are the best ones. But after a short while, my roommate’s girlfriend politely asked, “Ahem, do you have any, you know, Christmas music?”

Now I’ve got nothing against Christmas music per se. My strong preference is, of course, for good Christmas music, which I define simply as holiday music you can stand to hear more than once. So I’ve learned my lesson and have tried over the years to get some OCM for the sake family, friends (and myself).

Here are some of my favorites:

 

The Bells of Dublin by the Chieftains

An Irish Christmas, musically, anyway. (The other kind, I don't know that I'd recommend.) It’s got the usual suspects (Elvis Costello, Ricki Lee Jones, Jackson Browne, etc.) as guest stars, which is normally a dead giveaway that it’s NOT a great album. But here, just about everyone shines.

I bought this record out of desperation because I was low on holiday music, and had set my expectations to…okay. But the sound was clear and bright, the musicianship excellent (and more importantly enthusiastic) and there is a commitment to each performance that rises above professionalism and into joy from all concerned that actually translates into music you want to hear over and over again. It’s got the best version of “Deck the Halls” ever.

A great Christmas album and a great album.

A Charlie Brown Christmas by the Vince Guaraldi Trio

If you’ve seen the TV show, you’ve heard most of this music already, so you already know whether you like it or not. Play it right after everyone’s gone home and you can finally relax. A great example of making something new out of something old. A damned good jazz album, too.

 

A New Wave Christmas:

Christmas with electric guitars! Who could ask for more?

The ones you know: “2000 Miles” by the Pretenders and “The Little Drummer Boy” by David Bowie and Bing Crosby.

The one you may know: “Fairy Tale of New York” by the Pogues and Kirsty Macoll, which gets my vote for all time greatest modern Christmas song.

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Now playing: The Pogues & Kristy Maccoll - Fairytale Of New York
via FoxyTunes

The ones you probably don’t know: “Christmas Time” by the Chris Stamey Group and “Mary Xmess” by Sun 60.

And many more. A real pleasure.

Personal Christmas Music:

“Personal” Christmas music, on the other hand, is the music you happen to hear around the holidays, but that otherwise has no connection to them other than the one you attach to it yourself.

 While OCM may bring back vague recollections of childhood Christmases, the advantage of PCM is that it can bring you back to the specific year in which you first heard it.

Since PCM is deeply subjective, I understand now that while it’s good for me, it probably isn’t good for guests. It’s too much to expect them to enjoy what I happen to be obsessing over at the moment. Maybe they’re already obsessing over something else anyway. And it’s probably an illusion to think that my current obsession is somehow more apt for the holiday season other than that it’s great music. I may have heard a great album in December that you heard in July. So that makes my holiday memories your summer vacation memories.

I should add that it’s not quite enough for my PCM to only be great music. “Daydream Nation” by Sonic Youth is a good album, but it’s loud and harsh, and not a good accompaniment to a Thanksgiving morning preparing hors d’oeuvres and dressing a colicky three month old for a long drive. So, I’ve learned to hedge my bets a little and, when given the choice, pick positive over negative, soothing over intense, emotional over intellectual. This is a no-brainer for people other than me.

And I’ll now admit to what may already be obvious - that I’ve come to “engineer” the whole thing by making sure to visit the record store a few days before Thanksgiving. This is stupid, pathetic, over-determined, non-spontaneous, and worst of all, fallible. But since these words apply equally well to me, I still do it. And when it works – more often than you’d think – it’s magical.

A word about new holiday songs, by which I mean either new songs, or new versions of old ones. If they’re bland or forgettable, they will simply be added to the vast store of Official Christmas music and get recycled for next holiday season. But if they are really good – an old song kept fresh (The Pretenders version of “Have Yourself a Merry Christmas”), or a great new one (ditto, “2,000 Miles”) - you can end up with the best of both worlds - a hybrid of the Official and Personal.

Another great example is “Christmas Wrapping” by the Waitresses, which brings me right back to the moment I first heard it. But this is rare. Most of the time, the song is either one or the other.

OCM vs. PCM

The difference between the OCM and PCM is the difference between what means a lot to the outside world and what means a lot to you. Depending on how much you’re in synch with the outside world, you might be quite satisfied with OCM, and not have a single song to call your own PCM. So score one for Santa.

What it really boils down to, in essence, is this: the difference between OCM and PCM is that OCM reminds you of the good things that have happened while PCM tells you that good things are still possible. This is why I will always need PCM. It’s also why I do this blog.

So I feel compelled to tell you about a couple of my favorite PCM records. They were heard around the holidays, and thus, made those holidays better:

“1978-1990” by the Go-Betweens:

I bought this “best-of, plus rarities” in 1990 during one of my traditional pre Thanksgiving shopping trips because I had heard and loved “Streets of Your Town”. We listened to it (along with the six others I got that day, but I’m better now) on the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, while preparing hundred layer dip for the next day’s dinner at mom’s house.

I could tell from the very first listen that this record was going to stick with me, especially when I heard “Bye-bye Pride”, “Second Hand Furniture” and “Right Here”. I’ve hesitated to recommend this record because the G-Bs are like a good bottle of wine in a soda pop world - the first taste is a bit dry but before you know it, you’ve finished the bottle.

So the singing could sometimes be better, or the melody occasionally takes a back seat to the words, but that’s fine because the band always finds the best way to put each song across, whether it’s the slammin’ drummer who just happens to be a lady, the occasional strings and brass, or the guitars - usually one acoustic and one electric – the former never tired, and the latter always reminding you that this is not folk music. Oh, and by the way, the songs are awesome.

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Now playing: The Go-Betweens - Bye Bye Pride

\via FoxyTunes  

"Oceans Apart" (2005) by the Go-Betweens

The G-Bs then went on hiatus for twelve years. The songwriters – Robert Forster and Grant McLennan - released a number of solo albums before getting back together in 2002, and doing three more records. Since then Grant McLennan has passed away.

On my most recent pre-Thanksgiving music trip, I decided to give this, their last record, a try. I am happy to report that our 2007 holiday season has already been indelibly marked by this marvelous record. Robert Forster’s “Darlinghurst Nights” is a high point, and Grant McLennan may have been saving his best for last. “Finding You”, “Boundary Rider” and “The Statue” are among the best songs he’s ever done. So long live Grant McLennan.

This band consistently made music that achieved the very rare balance of beauty and resilience. Autumnal. Quirky. Proud. Long live the Go-Betweens.

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Now playing: The Go-Betweens - Boundary Rider
via FoxyTunes

And The Winner Is…

I can’t expect anyone to believe that these two records mean more to me than all the Christmas music I’ve ever heard. So I guess that means that Santa Claus wins. But let’s face it, he had help from Jesus.

But that leads me to this question – What would Jesus listen to? That’s easy. The Go-Betweens.

Happy Holidays.