Yes, we are now officially through the second year of our Discography music discussion, as difficult to believe as that is. This week is typically good, and typically eclectic. Dave Kelley's choice inspired a wonderful side conversation the other day between DK, JS and yours truly about the first concert the Jack and I attended, and the decidedly non-scholarly, non-adult beverages which were consumed. It was a blissful memory, until I later realized that when we were having that reasonably adult moment Alice Neiley wasn't born yet. That was tough to handle, but, as AS proposes, she does look 16 (I would have guessed 14). The jarring moment was when I realized that when we were enjoying (not enjoying) Robin Hood Creme Ale on the way to the Boz Skaggs concert Mike Kelly wasn't born either.
As we've discussed, the esteemed Cyndi Brandenburg and I will be, inshallah, in Jordan soon with some number of students (one managed to break his leg the other day so his presence is still being sorted out by various and sundry medical professionals; it's always something). So, if you don't mind sending along a couple songs by Wednesday I'll enter them into the system and instruct (well, ask politely) the nano-overlords to release them on time. Special thanks to the excellent Dave Wallace who, as is his wont, is way ahead (and may have lapped us and started Year Three). I do appreciate you folks sending the songs/commentaries early because it does mess up the rhythm. As we've discussed, my song in any particular week did not start out as the song for that week, and was probably shuffled back and forth three times depending upon my mood.
Uncle Tupelo, Chickamauga
Years and years ago during a debate about whether or not Uncle Tupelo or the Drive-By Truckers were/are the greatest American band (every right thinking individual knows that these are the only two choices) Mike Kelly pointed out that that vast majority of Uncle Tupelo songs I love are Jay Farrar songs. This was so long ago that Mike, in his general and unquestioned excellence, made me a Jay Farrar mix CD before I went to live in Abu Dhabi. As I've pointed out before, a pox on both the Farrar and Tweedy houses for being assholes and destroying what was essentially a perfect band. I like some Farrar stuff since the breakup - and have never warmed to Wilco at all - but I think even the best stuff pales in comparison to what they produced when the band was together (no matter how much they hated each other). I say this by way of explaining why I chose Chickamauga, which is usually seen as presaging the end of the band. It's from Anodyne, their swan song, and truly a great album. Referencing Chickamauga, one of the bloodiest battles of the Civil War, is an apt and powerful metaphor. At the same time, I suppose you do reach a point where you're tired of fighting battles. Over dinner the other night my friend Alfonso Capone (and, yes, Champlain folks will testify that this is a real person) opined that I'm a nicer person now (I think he actually said that I've softened, which I guess I could have used since we're not doing phrasing any more). It's hard to say whether this is wisdom or faith or just plain exhaustion, but AC's observation is probably accurate. In my Yemen class this week we were talking about the classic designations inside the Islamic world: Dar al-Islam (the Abode of Islam, where you have a majority Muslim population), the Dar al-Harb (the Abode of War, where you can't practice your faith) and the Dar al-Sulh (the Abode of Peace, where it is not majority Muslim but where you can still practice your faith - despite the complicated relationship between the US and Islam, the US would fall into this category). As a Muslim you're instructed to follow the laws of the country where you live, but if you can't reconcile those laws and practice your own faith then you're directed to leave and go someplace where you can. I think this works on the macro level, but it's also true on the micro level. One of the biggest block to our own serenity is the environment in which we, usually quite willingly, live, and sometimes we need to leave. In the end maybe it's enough that we've found our personal Dar al-Sulh; even if it's not everything it could be, isn't peace enough? I mean, life is too short, or as Uncle Tupelo opined, "I don''t want to ever taste these tears again." So, in the end, maybe I should give Farrar and Tweedy some slack.
As we've discussed, the esteemed Cyndi Brandenburg and I will be, inshallah, in Jordan soon with some number of students (one managed to break his leg the other day so his presence is still being sorted out by various and sundry medical professionals; it's always something). So, if you don't mind sending along a couple songs by Wednesday I'll enter them into the system and instruct (well, ask politely) the nano-overlords to release them on time. Special thanks to the excellent Dave Wallace who, as is his wont, is way ahead (and may have lapped us and started Year Three). I do appreciate you folks sending the songs/commentaries early because it does mess up the rhythm. As we've discussed, my song in any particular week did not start out as the song for that week, and was probably shuffled back and forth three times depending upon my mood.
Dave Wallace
In
a more-just world, Moby Grape would have been one of the biggest acts of the
'60s. Coming out of the same San Francisco scene as Jefferson Airplane
and the Grateful Dead, the Grape was absurdly-talented; all five members could
sing lead and harmony, and each was a good-to-great songwriter.
Unfortunately, bad management, label difficulties, interpersonal conflicts, and
mental health issues for some of the band members effectively derailed them
from any sustained success. Their first album is a semi-lost classic and,
shockingly, it's no longer available, not even in digital form (although I
think you can find most, if not all, of its songs on compilations). For
the blog, I've chosen two of the best things from that album - lead
track, Hey Grandma, and the guitar rave-up, Omaha.
Kevin Andrews
I
was planning to continue to write about guitarists for the next 4 or 5 weeks
but I thought I’d save them for the when blog overlords come and use something
(sort of) new. That way I won’t look as old as the people in the Spotify
statistics.
I’d
heard about Kurt Vile, The War on Drugs, and Courtney Barnett for some time
but, as I do, I choose to ignore them. I remember thinking Kurt Vile, is he
still alive? Turns out, Kurt Weill of Three Penny Opera fame died in 1950 so I
was sort of right. I should pay more attention. Kurt is from Landsdowne, PA
which is practically my home town. He, like me, got out young.
Kurt
left WoD after their first album and set out on his own. While touring, he’d
run Courtney at festivals and when he played in Australia, he would visit.
Seeing them together it’s no surprise they would eventually record an album
together. They have very similar mannerisms, they’re guitar playing is similar
and they act like goofy teenagers. Their music defies categorization, sort of punk,
sort of country. Despite their seemingly casual attitude while playing they’re
both pretty solid instrumentalists and writers. They’ve grown on me quite a bit
over the last few months. This video is from their album, Lotta Sea Lice. Here is their KEXP performance if you’d like to hear
more.
Phillip Seiler
The Untouchables
I
thought discography could use a ska track and the Untouchables sprung to mind
immediately. Credited with being the US's first ska band, the Untouchables
started in LA in the early 80s. They never really had big success in the states
but they did have some singles do well in Britain which always seemed to
embrace ska more than us new worlders.
Free
Yourself was their most successful track and it's not hard to see why. It's
full throttle fun from the first drum roll to the last trumpet note. Couple
that dancey goodness with the message that you are the only thing that can set
yourself free and you have a track right up my alley. Apparently the band
appeared in a bunch of movies including being a scooter gang in Repo Man which
makes me want to rewatch that right now. But that would inevitably lead to
falling down a hole of early 80s punk and sadly I have responsibilities and no
time for that. 80s me would be very disappointed in 2010's me. (80s me was also
a Republican so his judgement is completely suspect.)
Kathy Seiler
Keyon Harrold – Wayfaring Traveler
I heard this song this past summer as I allowed Spotify to play
me some new music. It’s jazzy, with some funk thrown in the lyrics. Harrold is
a jazz trumpeter and this song is of the album called “The Mugician.” He’s
performed as trumpet for many hip-hop artists on their songs as well. You can
see him backing up Common at a White House Tiny Desk Concert during Obama’s
last months in office (https://www.npr.org/2016/10/03/496433228/common-tiny-desk-concert-at-the-white-house).
Those were the days when the White House was a good place… but I digress. I
really like the vibe of the song, and seeing as two people I adore are shortly
heading to Jordan with a bunch of college students, I thought the title was
particularly relevant this week.
Alice Neiley
Fasten your seat belts, everyone. Since last week, my rabbit
hole has grown immeasurably larger, and immeasurably more dated…by which I
mean…it betrays my actual age. This is somewhat unusual for me (musically
speaking, because yes, I know I look 16), as much of my favorite music was
popular long before I was born – save for the singer songwriter genre. I blame
my father. There’s one exception to that ‘rule’, though: the 90s.
During the pool game at the Four Sport Triathlon last weekend, I unsurprisingly tanked $15 on yet another jukebox, and given the late hour (really late, oh my god), I found myself cranking 90s hip hop. This got me thinking about 90s music in general, and the discography, and how if the 90s was to be represented on this blog (at least from a “I grew up with this music’ perspective), I was the only one with the appropriate credentials. Mike Kelly might be next in line for this generationally determined role, but when some of these tunes were ACTUALLY popular, he was likely just that much older, cooler, and thus too ‘alternative’ in taste to truly enjoy them/have all the lyrics, trying-to-be-badass guitar solos, and hip hop ‘breakdowns” memorized. So here I am to save the day, your resident 32-year-old, born in 1985, most susceptible to musical influence in the 90s, during my middle/high school years (according to an article on Slate http://www.slate.com/articles/health_and_science/science/2014/08/musical_nostalgia_the_psychology_and_neuroscience_for_song_preference_and.html)).
I’m so far down this rabbit hole already that I’ve begun a Spotify playlist called “I’m Lovin’ It: Songs You Can’t Resist”, implying that songs of the 90s occasionally have the same effect as McDonalds fries or nuggets – not exactly good, but…so good.
But first, partially in the spirit of the BLM walkout at Champlain, let’s start with the exactly good. After all, everyone knows hip-hop’s golden age was mid-90s. Here are the four top hip hop tunes in my book, from most hip-hop à r&b infused. (The runners up, as well as a few others, will be included on the upcoming Spotify playlist).
1. Changes – Tupac (2pac): 1998
You can’t get through the 90s as a teenager without falling in love with at least one 2pac song, even as a white, blonde girl from the Midwest…or perhaps especially as? “Changes” is my fave, and played at parties I was never invited to, but also occasionally on random radio stations…which of course I recorded onto mix cassette tapes. The most interesting thing about this tune is the juxtaposition of the lines ‘things will never be the same’ and ‘some things will never change’. I have my own thoughts about the space between those ideas…but I’ll leave you to yours. I also LOVE the piano riff.
2. Mo money Mo problems – Notorious B.I.G.: 1997
There’s such a great pull between the instrumentation indicative of 80s pop hits (in this case an actual pop hit) and solid, classic hip-hop verse – you can hardly imagine something like this even happening anymore. I mean, who would take a pop style from the 90s or early 2000s and layer hip hop on top in with such balance these days? I can’t think of anyone, partly because the sharp simplicity of hip hop beats has largely gone by the wayside, regardless of what the instrumental backing happens to be.
3. Ready or Not – The Fugees: 1996
The world is officially introduced to the goddess that is Lauryn Hill. More on her later. Just enjoy. The 11 / 12 year old Alice fell in love immediately. (Can’t-help-myself-sidenote: can you BEAT Hill’s harmony with herself?!? The answer is no. No, you can’t beat that).
4. Shoop – Salt N Pepa: 1994
I know every word to this song. Every. Word. And even after not hearing it for years and years, the words still come back without effort. This tune, in my opinion, truly begins the crossover from hiphop into r&b and pop – the beat is hip hop rooted, but the background melody is so catchy, complete with both vocal harmonies and unison, you almost don’t realize how much these girl-rappers are KILLIN’ it. I mean, seriously. The rhymes are crazy awesome. This isn’t even the ‘sickest’ rhyme, but it was my favorite way back when: “Gimme some of that yum yum chocolate chip /honey dip/ lemme get a scoop/ baby take a ride in my coop / you make me wanna shoop.”
Runners up:
Don’t Wanna Be a Playa: Big Pun 1998
California Love:2Pac/Dr. Dre 1996
Used to Love Her: Common 1994
Hard Knock Life: Jay Z 1998
The Rain: Missy Elliott 1997
During the pool game at the Four Sport Triathlon last weekend, I unsurprisingly tanked $15 on yet another jukebox, and given the late hour (really late, oh my god), I found myself cranking 90s hip hop. This got me thinking about 90s music in general, and the discography, and how if the 90s was to be represented on this blog (at least from a “I grew up with this music’ perspective), I was the only one with the appropriate credentials. Mike Kelly might be next in line for this generationally determined role, but when some of these tunes were ACTUALLY popular, he was likely just that much older, cooler, and thus too ‘alternative’ in taste to truly enjoy them/have all the lyrics, trying-to-be-badass guitar solos, and hip hop ‘breakdowns” memorized. So here I am to save the day, your resident 32-year-old, born in 1985, most susceptible to musical influence in the 90s, during my middle/high school years (according to an article on Slate http://www.slate.com/articles/health_and_science/science/2014/08/musical_nostalgia_the_psychology_and_neuroscience_for_song_preference_and.html)).
I’m so far down this rabbit hole already that I’ve begun a Spotify playlist called “I’m Lovin’ It: Songs You Can’t Resist”, implying that songs of the 90s occasionally have the same effect as McDonalds fries or nuggets – not exactly good, but…so good.
But first, partially in the spirit of the BLM walkout at Champlain, let’s start with the exactly good. After all, everyone knows hip-hop’s golden age was mid-90s. Here are the four top hip hop tunes in my book, from most hip-hop à r&b infused. (The runners up, as well as a few others, will be included on the upcoming Spotify playlist).
1. Changes – Tupac (2pac): 1998
You can’t get through the 90s as a teenager without falling in love with at least one 2pac song, even as a white, blonde girl from the Midwest…or perhaps especially as? “Changes” is my fave, and played at parties I was never invited to, but also occasionally on random radio stations…which of course I recorded onto mix cassette tapes. The most interesting thing about this tune is the juxtaposition of the lines ‘things will never be the same’ and ‘some things will never change’. I have my own thoughts about the space between those ideas…but I’ll leave you to yours. I also LOVE the piano riff.
2. Mo money Mo problems – Notorious B.I.G.: 1997
There’s such a great pull between the instrumentation indicative of 80s pop hits (in this case an actual pop hit) and solid, classic hip-hop verse – you can hardly imagine something like this even happening anymore. I mean, who would take a pop style from the 90s or early 2000s and layer hip hop on top in with such balance these days? I can’t think of anyone, partly because the sharp simplicity of hip hop beats has largely gone by the wayside, regardless of what the instrumental backing happens to be.
3. Ready or Not – The Fugees: 1996
The world is officially introduced to the goddess that is Lauryn Hill. More on her later. Just enjoy. The 11 / 12 year old Alice fell in love immediately. (Can’t-help-myself-sidenote: can you BEAT Hill’s harmony with herself?!? The answer is no. No, you can’t beat that).
4. Shoop – Salt N Pepa: 1994
I know every word to this song. Every. Word. And even after not hearing it for years and years, the words still come back without effort. This tune, in my opinion, truly begins the crossover from hiphop into r&b and pop – the beat is hip hop rooted, but the background melody is so catchy, complete with both vocal harmonies and unison, you almost don’t realize how much these girl-rappers are KILLIN’ it. I mean, seriously. The rhymes are crazy awesome. This isn’t even the ‘sickest’ rhyme, but it was my favorite way back when: “Gimme some of that yum yum chocolate chip /honey dip/ lemme get a scoop/ baby take a ride in my coop / you make me wanna shoop.”
Runners up:
Don’t Wanna Be a Playa: Big Pun 1998
California Love:2Pac/Dr. Dre 1996
Used to Love Her: Common 1994
Hard Knock Life: Jay Z 1998
The Rain: Missy Elliott 1997
Can't
Resist: Missy Elliott 1997
Dave Kelley
I careen back and forth between choosing songs that allow me to
vent my spleen about all of the meanness and stupidity taking place in our
country and ones that reflect whatever random thoughts have gathered in my
small smooth brain over the preceding week. Today's post is one of
the latter.
"Lowdown" Boz Scaggs
I made a huge mistake while visiting Florida last week. I
did not start a land war in Asia, nor did I get into a battle to the death with
a Sicilian. My error was far worse. I tried to keep up with our
mostly silent esteemed musicologist Jack when it came to drinking
bourbon. Specifically Knob Creek Bourbon. My only defense is
that I had already consumed far too many beers when I dove head first into Knob
Creek without a life preserver. I have never been up on Cripple Creek,
but I have sure as shit been down in Knob Creek.
The context is that I went to Florida to visit my friend
from 1st grade Alan who moved there a few years ago. We spent
the weekend in Ft. Lauderdale with his most excellent girlfriend Clare who by
happenstance lives less than ten minutes away from Jack and his better half
Julie. Claire's mother is from Thailand, and Claire threw a dinner
party with mounds and mounds of amazing Thai food. She was gracious
enough to include Jack and Julie on the guest list. Eventually all of this
resulted in rivers of Knob Creek Bourbon being consumed.
At this point, a reasonable person might ask, "what
in the flying fuck does this have to do with Boz Scaggs or
"Lowdown". Only if you drink enough bourbon will this mystery
of life be revealed to you oh grasshoppers. 
I have no idea what Boz is singing about in this song and could
not possibly care less. I have never made an effort to learn or
understand the lyrics and have no plans on doing so. What matters is that
it sounds great and makes you feel happy. Especially when you are surrounded
by great friends old and new, stupefying amounts of Thai food, and every
type of alcohol known to mankind. When "Lowdown" came on the
stereo that evening literally everyone in the room started swaying along with
the killer bass line. The night was just perfect in so many ways, and for
the four or five minutes that "Lowdown" was blasting, it became
something even more perfect. Music can do many things on so many
levels. On that night it took me higher to paraphrase Sly Stone.
Perfection is rare and never sustainable so of course it must be
treasured. It was so awesome to see dear friends, Alan, Jack, and
Julie. I was really happy to meet Clare and her friends and
neighbors. I am always as happy as a butcher's dog to eat and drink
copious amounts. Despite the bourbon , I will long remember last
Saturday and one of my memories was having "Lowdown" show up on the
play list.
Thanks Boz and whoever the hell played bass.
Gary Scudder
Uncle Tupelo, Chickamauga
Years and years ago during a debate about whether or not Uncle Tupelo or the Drive-By Truckers were/are the greatest American band (every right thinking individual knows that these are the only two choices) Mike Kelly pointed out that that vast majority of Uncle Tupelo songs I love are Jay Farrar songs. This was so long ago that Mike, in his general and unquestioned excellence, made me a Jay Farrar mix CD before I went to live in Abu Dhabi. As I've pointed out before, a pox on both the Farrar and Tweedy houses for being assholes and destroying what was essentially a perfect band. I like some Farrar stuff since the breakup - and have never warmed to Wilco at all - but I think even the best stuff pales in comparison to what they produced when the band was together (no matter how much they hated each other). I say this by way of explaining why I chose Chickamauga, which is usually seen as presaging the end of the band. It's from Anodyne, their swan song, and truly a great album. Referencing Chickamauga, one of the bloodiest battles of the Civil War, is an apt and powerful metaphor. At the same time, I suppose you do reach a point where you're tired of fighting battles. Over dinner the other night my friend Alfonso Capone (and, yes, Champlain folks will testify that this is a real person) opined that I'm a nicer person now (I think he actually said that I've softened, which I guess I could have used since we're not doing phrasing any more). It's hard to say whether this is wisdom or faith or just plain exhaustion, but AC's observation is probably accurate. In my Yemen class this week we were talking about the classic designations inside the Islamic world: Dar al-Islam (the Abode of Islam, where you have a majority Muslim population), the Dar al-Harb (the Abode of War, where you can't practice your faith) and the Dar al-Sulh (the Abode of Peace, where it is not majority Muslim but where you can still practice your faith - despite the complicated relationship between the US and Islam, the US would fall into this category). As a Muslim you're instructed to follow the laws of the country where you live, but if you can't reconcile those laws and practice your own faith then you're directed to leave and go someplace where you can. I think this works on the macro level, but it's also true on the micro level. One of the biggest block to our own serenity is the environment in which we, usually quite willingly, live, and sometimes we need to leave. In the end maybe it's enough that we've found our personal Dar al-Sulh; even if it's not everything it could be, isn't peace enough? I mean, life is too short, or as Uncle Tupelo opined, "I don''t want to ever taste these tears again." So, in the end, maybe I should give Farrar and Tweedy some slack.
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