Discography - Week 42

Yes, we've reached Week 42 in our year-long Discography discussion, which means we only have ten posts after today, including one more thematic week.  Wow, can't believe the year is drawing to a close.  I've actually swapped my choice this week several times, but decided to put off my deeply brooding post to something beautiful, mainly to heal the rift between Mike and Cyndi which erupted in an argument at our traditional FAP (Friday Afternoon Party) yesterday, which I was only tangentially at fault for starting (which is unusual because I'm normally directly and intentionally and undeniably at fault for starting fights).

Dave Mills

I'm clearly unqualified to weigh in on the Autumn Leaves Backmasking Massacre that's brewing up here (with a body count second only to the fabled Bowling Green Massacre), but I can say a thing or two about protest music.

First, Sand in the Gears is fantastic. Thanks for sharing that, Dave.

Second, if you love a good protest song, and if you subscribe to Spotify or Apple Music, check out the 1,000 Days, 1,000 Songs playlist. This project, started by brilliant human Dave Eggers (of McSweeney's fame), began as a 30 days, 30 song list in the run-up to the election. Recognizing the need for good music to get us through the horrifying outcome of the election, Eggers & Co. have expanded the playlist to last almost 3 years. It includes some new Trump-focused protest songs by a wide range of artists: Death Cab for Cutie and Moby are in there along with EL VY (a side project of The National), Aimee Mann, Ani Difranco, and Jim James (of My Morning Jacket), as well as some oldies-but-goodies from the likes of REM, Tracy Chapman, Bowie, and Woody Guthrie. So check it out if you can. Personally, wondering what the next song on the list will be gives me something to look forward to each day, which offsets the daily horror show of executive orders and congressional actions.

Lastly, on the topic of protest music, after defiling the discography with Rage Against the Machine last week, I'm going to indulge in one more dark angry protest piece. Then I pledge to devote my remaining 10 weeks to better things. That song is "KingNothing" by Metallica. I wore out my copy of Master of Puppets in my junior year of high school, and probably significantly damaged my hearing in the process. (But you should have seen the amplifier, equalizer, and 6x9 speaker setup I had going in my 1973 Buick Century. Killer.) Anyway, I'm indulging a bit of nostalgia with the choice of Metallica, even though "King Nothing" came out years after high school. Still,  it seems presciently to describe our current tweeter-in-chief. I think the lyrical connections are obvious, so I'll leave those to you and not spell them out here.

Gary Beatrice

The New Pornographers, Bleeding Heart Show

So, The New Pornographers are some kind of modern music, alternative rock super group. Frankly, I only know the amazing Neko Case, and I think of them as Case fronting a rock band. But even at that, she doesn't really front them.

I have no idea what this song means, and the song is enjoyable, but suddenly and unexpectedly it becomes frickin' great in the last minute or do when Case leads the "Hey Ya" chorus. At that time it becomes the greatest, most pleasant ear worm in many years, maybe decades.

The New Pornographers are named after the famous Frank Sinatra quote "Rock 'N Roll is the new pornography".

Listen at your own peril, because this will stick in your craw for days. But in a good way.

Dave Wallace

The Who, Won't Get Fooled Again

As the conclusion for the month of Trump, Pete Townshend perfectly captures his disillusionment at the end of the 1960's with this bitter attack on fake and phony leaders.  Unfortunately, as the Trump election demonstrates, we still haven't learned the lessons that Townshend was trying to teach us.  

Amazingly, Townshend wasn't even 30 when he wrote this song and, over the years, I'm continually astonished at the timeliness and insight contained in Won't Get Fooled Again.  And, of course, the band was firing on all cylinders when they recorded it.  Peak Who.

Phillip Seiler

For a tiny state, one of the things I do love most about Vermont is we have a very vibrant, independent music community. Sure, we can only pull so many big acts to the fair a year and we have to content ourselves with a road trip to Montreal or Boston for the very big names. But a lot of excellent mid-range to smaller acts will swing by because we have some decent concert venues and supporting radio stations. In this case I will sing the praises of The Point, FM. Although they generally program what would be deemed adult alternative, they are truly independent with their DJs programming their own music and shows. It allows for a nice variety across the decades and they help to promote and discover some of the smaller up and coming acts. For today’s selection, I chose a track by a band I never would have found without The Point.

Carbon Leaf, One Prairie Outpost
Sometime in the early aughts, I heard a wonderfully celtic-inspired melody with chimes (a personal weakness) and cascading drums. It was a track called “The Boxer” (Not the Simon and Garfunkel song) from the album “Echo Echo” by Carbon Leaf. It’s a good track and I recommend you search it down too. I immediately fell in love with the band and have been following them ever since. The track I write about today came from the followup album, Indian Summer. One Prairie Outpost is a lament and celebration of the road, a time honored rock and roll tradition. But songwriter Barry Privett gives us just enough of a twist with his obsession with looking at life through an adult longing for his childhood innocence. As previously mentioned, I am susceptible to nostalgia so this certainly connects with a part of my soul. I am also a lover of good harmony and when guitarist Terry Clark adds his falsetto to the chorus, well, that’s about all I need. 

To all that make their living on the road between the dream and the real.

Kathy Seiler

The recent of actions of our new President horrify me. I don't think I've ever been so vehemently opposed to the actions of the President of the United States like I am with this one. While this has left my mood grey and rumbling, I find it has also lit a fire in me that I think I always knew was there but never really had a reason to be stoked. Some of that fire is manifesting as activism. I participated in the Women's March a few weeks ago and plan on doing my best to participate in the March for Science (https://www.marchforscience.com/) - although I will (appropriately) be in Chicago that day attending a scientific conference. Activism is a new thing for me, but now seems like the time. I'm the product of parents who always told me to "keep my head down." And I did. But I don't want to anymore.

These new feelings and actions remind me of a song from the late 1990s - on an album that helped me get through a particularly trying year in Kentucky (boy do we have some stories from there!). The song is Paula Cole - Tiger. I have always identified with the girl she sings about in this song... except that I've never had a sex-starved teacher trying to touch my ass (well, yet). And the line that says "I can finally be a teenager at age 26" applies to me now, but the line should be "I can finally be a teenager at age 46". Better late than never.

Dave Kelley

Sorry for the lateness of my contribution.  I will make up for that by being brief.

"Sand in theGears"  Frank Turner

"AmericanLand"  Bruce Springsteen

I do not have the energy to launch into a diatribe about the attack on American ideals that is currently underway.  Especially a cowardly and mean spirited attempt to turn us from a nation of inclusion into one of exclusion.

"Sand in the Gears" is a great new protest song by Frank Turner.  He is leading off his shows with it.  The lyrics speak for themselves.

There are countless Springsteen songs I like better than "This American Land".  However, this is his most timely.  He is playing it every night in his concerts in Australia and dedicating it to those groups that trust fund pussy is trying to keep or kick out of our nation.   The first few verses are comic.  The final verse turns more serious as it mentions the roadblocks that have been put in the way of immigrants to this country over the years.  

Gary Scudder

Julian "Cannonball" Adderley (with Miles Davis), Autumn Leaves

When we began this Discography discussion it never occurred to me how much jazz I would be including.  About twenty years ago I went through a big classical music phase (and, with the exception of one piece, I'm also surprised of how little classical music made it into this discussion) and then a big jazz phase.  While I still revisit some of my favorite classical music pieces, especially in the winter, it seems that jazz won out in the long run.  Now, I have to admit that I have pretty pedestrian sensibilities in regards to jazz.  While I love the idea of Ornette Coleman, in the end I tend to revert to Miles Davis and Bill Evans.  Lately I've become hooked on John Coletrane, and several of you have suffered through my recent rants about how great A Love Supreme is (with which Dave Kelley heartily agrees); the only reason I haven't featured it yet is because I don't think you could take any one of the four pieces and have it make sense in a stand-alone fashion - it's organic, man.  Anyway, a piece I recently discovered is the cover of Autumn Leaves on Cannonball Adderley's Something' Else album.  It's one of the few times when Miles Davis played sideman (Adderley was a member of Davis's first great quintet).  In an increasingly ugly and deeply flawed world, Autumn Leaves is a little snippet of perfect beauty.