Thanksgiving for every wrong move

27 11 2014

Hope y’all had a peaceful day—or not, if that is your wont

 





Autumnsongs: U2

30 10 2014

You knew this one was coming.

I thought I’d get to it earlier, but this whole month has been unusually warm, and when I think of “October”, I think not just of a fading sun through fallen leaves, but sweatshirts and collars pulled up and knuckles reddened from the chill.

Some New York Octobers, yes, but not this one.

Still, it wouldn’t really do to play this in November, and today the wind did smack me around a bit, so why not now?

It’s lovely and melancholy not too much, in the way that U2 is often too much.

I loved that about U2, actually, that they were so often too much, too hot—never cool. I loved the righteousness and the politics and the absolute emo—a term nowhere in evidence back in the day—of the joint.

U2, in other words, were never cool, and I was all right with that.

Still, “Seconds” was about as cool as they got, in terms of perspective. It was angry, yes, but in a kind of can-you-fuckin’-believe-it way.

Why is this an autumnsong? The detachment, perhaps, but more so that I associate this song with that first semester at college, when the air in Madison was definitely chill, and I was running around trying to soak up all of the politics my skinny 18-year-old self could handle.

One weekend just about tipped me over: a Mondale/Ferraro rally (with which I was very involved) at the Capitol on Friday, an anti-nuke march in Chicago on Saturday, and a speech by Gloria Steinem in Milwaukee on Sunday—bless that skinny little heart, but I made them all.

The Chicago rally was a bit odd. I went alone (on the bus), wiped out, broke, and marched with I don’t know how many thousands of others through the foggy streets of Chicago, before we we emptied ourselves into a park to hear, oh man, was it Helen Caldicott? could Petra Kelly have been there? It seems like it, but thirty years on, and memory, like the sun, fades.

Well, except for Jesse Jackson, hometown son. I remember him, up next to the stage, I remember him. Man, the man could speak.

So, “Seconds” is a foggy Chicago Saturday in October, thousands, tens of thousands of us marching against the bomb, against our annihilation, and for our lives.





Autumnsongs: Joni Mitchell

12 10 2014

Young Joni Mitchell is late spring, early summer.

That high, high voice streaming up clear like water from a bubbler, so pure your heart stills as your breath is pulled out of you. If you’re not given to tears you close your eyes to keep them in, but that voice, that high, high voice steals them from you anyway, the song carrying them away.

It took Prince to make me appreciate Joni Mitchell. I was a horrible music snob when younger, and by horrible I mean: I missed so much good music because the artist did not fit into what seemed to me ought to matter. I wasn’t quite sure about Prince, either, but when that small, strange genius said that Blue was one of his favorite albums, I thought, Well.

And oh, is Blue a genius album. I generally favor low voices, but Joni was one of the exceptions.

Was is the operative word, here: time and cigarettes have sunk her soprano into the sand, and instead of singing the clear blue sky she sounds like forests and falling leaves and a retiring sun.

She sounds like October.

I was reminded of this as I listed to a Tierney Sutton rendition of “Woodstock”—which is lovely, but I wanted to find a late edition Joni, to hear her sing herself back to a song that was wistful even in her youth.

If you are no longer so interested in keeping the tears in, this version of “Both Sides Now,” from 2000, is for you.

I’m still in my summer, perhaps my late-summer, years. And all this regret and wisdom and that voice, that incredible charcoal voice, makes me yearn for all I didn’t learn in my spring, and all that autumn will bring.





Listen to the music: It’s an inconvenient time

15 09 2014

It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?

I’ve dabbled in summersongs (fallsongs—or autumnsongs?—coming up!) and kicked around a song or two here and there, but after the disquisition on GY!BE and Miss Holly, the lacunae is noticeable.

I have been listening. This fistful of cds was, like the last, dominated by two names (albeit three performers): David  and Macy Gray, and Nanci Griffith (and rather a lot of Nanci Griffith). Unlike the last time, I zipped right through my listening of them, and ended with some lovely Charlie Haden.

The music wasn’t the problem: I just couldn’t be arsed to write about them.

Both of the Grays have the kinds of voices I like: a bit low, and skritchy. I mean, I’m not a Dave Matthews fan, but when he sings with, say, Emmylou, I dig that rasp.

Mr. Gray is another bloke I was introduced to while (whilst?) in Canada. He’s a bit of a mope, but what saves him, most of the time, from emo-overload are the bites he’ll snap out of the woe. There aren’t really any laughs in his songs, but there’s a sardonic sensibility which, again, cut against the despair.

I do wish for alternate production on some of his songs—he’s a sucker for the big whoomp—but when I’m havin’ one of those days, Life in Slow Motion goes down well with a beer or whisky and a slouch in the couch.*

And Nanci? Yeah, man, lotta cds. Her voice has a bit of the kewpie to it, but she’s a hell of a songwriter and I appreciate the hell out of the bottom-line humanness of her tunes.

And her cd, Flyer, helped get me through my dissertation. All hail Flyer!

~~~

234. David Gray, Life in Slow Motion
235. David Gray, a new day at midnight
236. Macy Gray, On How Life Is
237. Macy Gray, Id
238. Nanci Griffith, Storms
239. Nanci Griffith, Blue Roses from the Moon
240. Nanci Griffith, clock without hands
241. Nanci Griffith, Heart in Mind
242. Nanci Griffith, The Dust Bowl Symphony
243. Nanci Griffith, Flyer
244. Nanci Griffith, Other Voices, Too
245. Charlie Haden, The Montreal Tapes
246. Charlie Haden & Pat Metheny, beyond the Missouri Sky

*I don’t currently own a couch, but the line doesn’t work as well with “my one upholstered chair”.





Summersongs: Martha and the Vandellas

3 09 2014

Labor Day has come and gone but the heat remains.

Now, I generally associate Stax and soul music more with heat than Motown, but this happy tune bounces over an insistent beat, and while the anti-war protests hadn’t really yet hotted up, I can’t help but hear the call to dance in the street as a kind of if-I-can’t-dance. . . defiance.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=17yfqxoSTFM

I could pull out a political undertone from this tune, too, but honestly, I just hear that there’s no way to escape the heat—and maybe that ain’t so bad.





Summersongs: Frente!

31 08 2014

How did I hear of Frente? I have no idea.

I didn’t have cable so I wouldn’t have seen them on MTV (if they were on MTV), and I mostly listened to MPR when I lived in Minneapolis, so I doubt radio was the source.

I can think of two possibilities: a music review in either City Pages or the Twin Cities Reader, or it was playing at the Electric Fetus.

Anyway, “Accidentally Kelly Street” is pure confection, a state I associate with summer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XdJYrkra0nk

This is not wholly complimentary, insofar as I’m a more tang/salt than sweet kinda gal, and, of course, I don’t like summer.

Still, if one is in the right—which is to say, light—mood, it can be kind of charming.

Not all of the songs on Marvin the Album are as, well, twee, as this one, but Angie Hart’s high and breathy voice makes even political songs like “Cuscatlan” sound like bouncy summer fun:

Now, I’m not unalterably opposed to twee—I do own a coupla’ Belle & Sebastien cds, after all—but I can only listen to so much before it’s helium “hi! hi! hi!” attitude grates.

Still, in the summer, a song or two of helium-hi’s aren’t all bad.





Summersongs: Romeo Void

7 08 2014

Had enough of the angry money posts? How about biting sex posts?

Biting sex. . . hmmm, I see how that could be taken a couple of different ways. In any case, the “biting” refers to the attitude of Deborah Iyall toward sexy sexytimes and the occasional aftermath.

I first thought “A Girl in Trouble (Is a Temporary Thing)” would be the summersong, but after a night out with C & K, thought that maybe “Never Say Never”

Whatever. It’s Romeo Void, and even tho’ Iyall tells the girl that old man would “be warm in your coat”, why be literal about the coat-wearing and the presumably cold weather?

It’s about the beat and the attitude—and the backup boys singing temporary temporary in the chorus.

Do pop songs even use sax anymore? And, yeah, those Eighties video production values. . . .

I might like you better if we slept together
I might like you better if we slept together
I might like you better if we slept together

How can you not sing along to that?





Summersongs: XTC

23 07 2014

Moar music!

Yes, I’ll continue with my Listen to the music series, but I’m feeling a bit. . . limited by the one-way trek through my cd collection. So why loosen things up a bit, and gambol thru some songs of the season.

XTC’s Skylarking is, to me, a summer album. The first single was released in 1986, smack dab in the middle of my college years, and tho’ the album didn’t come out until the fall, my (mis?) memories are of listening to this in the green months of Madison.

The most well-known song may be “Dear God”, because in 1986 in the United States it was controversial to put out a single mildly criticizing/questioning the Big Kahuna. It wasn’t until I brought home my own copy of Skylarking that I realized that I got an alternate version: “Dear God” wasn’t included.

On the one hand, I was pissed, because even though the song wasn’t that great, I liked it well enough, and I didn’t like that it had been removed. On the other hand, I probably laid out 8 bucks for the new vinyl and wasn’t about to shell out even more money just for one song.

Singles? No.

Anyway, the songs that tie me most closely to that time are “Summer’s Cauldron/Grass” and “That’s Really Super, Supergirl”. I could never figure out Andy Partridge’s attitude toward the Supergirl—was he being nasty or pouty?—but I thought, get over it. In fact, I might have liked the song just for the attitude it inspired in me.

Listen to the lovely:

And enjoy the smirk:

Bonus fun fact: I recall Andy Partridge saying in an interview that all Englishmen had two of the following three characteristics: had bad teeth, were bald, were gay. He noted that he was bald and had bad teeth.

Don’t know why I remember that, but I do.





Listen to the music: God don’t like it

14 07 2014

That’s just a great title for a cd: direct, not quite right—God doesn’t like it—but somehow exactly right.

Yeah. God don’t like it. Even an apostate like me can say that.

Speaking of: Holy freakin’ hell, I gotalotta Holly Golightly cds.

This is an almost*-all-Canada post, by the way: I heard about Holly Golightly in Montréal, I think from my St Denis (or was it St Laurent? Damn!) Music Man, and her jangly post-punk appealed to me.

I just hadn’t realized, until I pulled the mid-G’s to listen to them, exactly how much she sucked me in: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 cds! Seven cds! And that doesn’t even count the Thee Headcoatees disc!

I mean, she’s good, but seven? Really? I must have been deep in obsession to have collected so many in such a short time—I’m guessin’ a year or two. (I have a lot of Emmylou, for example, but that’s over decades.) It took me a while to get through ‘am all.

Anyway, Holly Golightly, performs one of my favorite covers, of a Bill Withers (also a short-time obsession of mine) tune. Now, Withers is a peerless singer, so it really shouldn’t work, but it’s one of his lesser  tunes—“Use Me”—and Miz Golightly just strips that baby down to its skittering and frayed wire, then coos and flirts her way across and around the beat:

If God don’t like that, God don’t like nothin’.

The other band is Godspeed You! Black Emperor, a band which, unlike our Miss Holly, is actually Canadian. Music Man might have shoved them in my hand, too, but I think I found them on my own.

Not that I can go all hipster-early-adopter on you: I only started listening after the exclamation point had migrated westward.

Only three GY!BE cds proper, but I also have three The Silver Mount Zion Memorial Orchestra & Tra La La Band (tho’ they apparently now go by Thee Silver Mount Zion Memorial Orchestra), which contains a number of Godspeed members.

Anyway, GY!BE is loud, very loud. Very very loud. In concert. My friend J. and I saw them at some Mile End (I think) theatre and even in the balcony (which I, unwilling to be blasted off the ground floor, dragged J. to) we were crushed under the cascade of gorgeous, heartbreaking, menacing sounds. They played two hours proper, then offered up another hour of encore.

I don’t know that I could have stood up had they decided we were worthy of a second encore.

The music, by the way, is strange and familiar and fills the space from the ground to the sky. Highly recommended.

~~~

223. Godspeed You Black Emperor!, “lift yr skinny fists like antennas to heaven!”
224. Godspeed You! Black Emperor, xxx f#a#~xxx
225. Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Yanqui U.x.o.
226. Holly Golightly, The Good Things
227. Holly Golightly, God don’t like it
228. Holly Golightly, The Main Attraction
229. Holly Golightly, “Up the Empire”
230. Holly Golightly, truly she is none other
231. Holly Golightly, Singles Round-Up
232. Holly Golightly & Dan Melchior, Desperate Little Town
233. Jose Gonzalez, Veneer

*I forgot about Jose Gonzalez. He’s nice, too.





Where can I go

27 03 2014

Oh, this caught my ears.

Nothing earthshaking or odd—the sound is a bit a throwback (The Band? Van Morrison?), really—but that snatch of lyric: No one comes to take me home.

A lament. A recognition. A sigh. A shrug.

A night.

h/t: Jian Ghomeshi, at Q