The Sisterhood of the Travelling Students and Delicious Coconuts

I'm still getting caught up - and apparently will be for years - on travel blog posts.  I think I can hundreds of posts waiting to be completed, which I guess, honestly, is representative of a life lived well (or irresponsibly). Here are some pictures of our students from the last trip to Zanzibar enjoying their first taste of fresh coconut. Steve and I were always pushing them on the students because, beyond being delicious, they're a great source of electrolytes.  You can buy them on the street for a pittance, although we went straight to the source.

Well, if you're going to enjoy some fresh coconuts, then you first need to get some fresh coconuts, which means climbing to the top of a nearby tree.  Our job was not to climb the tree, but mainly to avoid the incoming coconut missiles coming to earth.

There is some preparation, which we usually just requires a very sharp knife (which we also kept away from the students).  Per usual, Steven was front and center for any activity.

The coconuts were a tremendous success.  Left to right: Emily, Claire, Caitlin, Genevieve, Montse.

Even Max, who only grudgingly agreed to try the coconuts, ended up hungrily drinking three of them.

And so the Sisterhood of the Travelling Students and Delicious Coconuts was born.

An Afternoon at Dobra

Yesterday another graduation came and went here at Champlain as the years continue to add up.  I found myself the second faculty member in the queue behind the administrators, which is a testament to how long I've been here (which hardly seems possible).  In my division, the Core, we don't have majors, which means that we don't normally forge the same bonds with our students that our colleagues in the professional divisions do simply because we don't spend four years with them.  Often we only have a student for one class, although I do have an odd little cadre of students who take me three or four (and soon to be five) times.  Generally, however, we just don't have as close a relationship, which you really see at graduation.  The big exception to that rule for me is the students who I lead on travel courses.  Nothing bonds you like spending a week or two in Zanzibar or Jordan or India.  Michael was graduating and it was important to him that he got some of us together to talk about our experiences and to share one last moment as family. 

Michael and Ines, both of whom went with us on the Jordan trip in March.  It was Michael's last Scudder trip, which also included Zanzibar in 2016 and India/Sri Lanka in 2017.

John and Hattie, who both went on the 2017 India/Sri Lanka trip.  Next spring John will be taking his fifth class with me (which will be a new record) and he's planning on returning to India again as part of a travel version of my new Dar al Islam: India course. Hattie just returned from spending her entire junior year abroad.  I envy these students who get the opportunity to travel so early.

The crew, minus Michael who was snapping the picture, at Dobra.  Ines was amazed that I was reading, in this case the book Thomas Jefferson's Qur'an, while I waited for them to show up, so she had to celebrate this fact by holding up the book.

I'm very cognizant of the fact that I'm very lucky.  I figured that by now I would have moved on to some other line of work or lost myself in administrative hell because the students would have long since stopped listening to me - and that I would have stopped caring about them - but, instead, and happily, I we still get along quite well.

Bellows Falls

One of the great blessings, and there have been many, of the last several years has been having my son living here in Vermont.  For over a year he lived about two miles away, which meant that we got together a couple times of week, even if it was only for late night dessert at Denny's.  Last year he moved to the other side of the state, so I don't see him as much but still quite a bit. I'm going to head over to his place for a longer stay this summer (I can unsuccessfully write at his desk as unsuccessfully as I can at mine) but normally I just drive over for Saturday stays.  A couple of weeks ago on a visit we did normal dad and son (at least this dad and son things) like go catch a movie (we both really liked A Quiet Place) and discussed philosophy and religion - and he took me over to Bellows Falls, which actually has a pretty vibrant little downtown. He's a wonderful man, which I mainly assign to his mother.

I love this picture, standing in front of the Bellows Falls sign.

And here he is walking me through the complexities of the Bellows Falls Diner menu.  We clearly have a thing for diners, as his Dutch Mill sweatshirt shows.

Montage

I made reference to this impending post weeks ago, but, as with so much of my life lately, I failed to follow up in a timely fashion. Routinely I keep making vows to simplify my life and therefore get more productive, and then inevitably set about creating new challenges for myself.  On the recent trip to Jordan my excellent friend Cyndi and I brought the students to Rainbow Street and spent several hours at Books@Cafe, which they dearly loved.  My student Ashley and I, however, mainly because I think we were both exhausted by the noise inside the bar, ended up going for a walk.  I volunteered to buy her a cup of coffee of what appeared to be a coffeeshop down the street, but which proved to be so much more.  Montage has a coffeeshop,  but a coffeeshop attached to a film school, which we didn't know until we stumbled into it. We settled down with a couple lattes, and then quickly figured out that they were setting up for a shoot.  We sat there and tried to look photogenic, hoping that they'd ask us to serve as extras, but no such luck.  To be fair, shooting a scene wherein you had what appears to be an American college student and her grandfather having a couple of coffee in the background is probably not the best approach to keeping the focus on the four young Jordanians discussing life at the center of the scene.

Ashley was a bit too excited when she realized that they were setting up for a film. It is only a testament to my great love for Jordan that kept me from stealing a Montage coffee mug.

And, of course, the requisite Champlain College shirt.  You can get a sense of how the coffeeshop slid effortlessly into becoming a set.

Having acted (poorly) in several student films - and generally being an unrepentant film whore - I found the entire process fascinating. 

I love those tracks that allow you to run cameras back and forth during a scene.

I did manage to find the bathroom, which was over near the film library.  Obviously, I almost didn't come back.

And I don't think we even need to discuss the importance of this shot.

Discography Year Two - Week 36

It's very rare that we've ever, completely independently, had two noted musicologists pick the same artist in the same week.  This week, however, both MK and I chose Frightened Rabbit songs, which I guess is not surprising since we woke up hearing about the band's lead singer Scott Hutchison's suicide at age 36. Truthfully, I knew precious little about the band, but, as MK referenced, and said much more eloquently than I could have, I think I was taken by the juxtaposition of the event and the words of the artist.  It's been such a wretched long year with more death than any of us needed, and I think I've reached the point where I'm impacted by the deaths of people I don't even know.

On happier note, I love the songs this week.  The selection is typically eclectic, and there's a definite energy boost since the end of the semester.  I also love the symmetry of KA's selection, because I know that album was one of GB's favorites.

Dave Wallace

The Pretenders - The Wait

I recently finished Chrissie Hynde's autobiography, which has caused me to revisit much of the Pretenders' catalogue.  They made several fantastic albums, and their first album is one of the greatest debuts ever.  I remember listening to it when it first came out (yes, I'm old) and being blown away.  It's punk, but more melodic than usual, with attitude to spare.  Every song on the album is terrific, and The Wait may be the best, as well as most representative of their sound.  With Hynde spitting out the lyrics, James Honeyman-Scott providing brillant guitar work, and the rhythm section pushing it along, it's essential rock from the '80s.

Dave Mills

With grades submitted and the end-of-semester pile gradually dwindling (for now), I have a minute and a brain cell or two to spare for the beloved discography.

This track is one that's been an earworm for me since it came out in March. Called "Moped," it's by the Richard Koch Quartett. Yes, with two t's, cuz they're German. Koch himself is actually an Austrian trumpeter, but his jazz quartet is based in Berlin. Anyway, not only is this track just fun to listen to, I also think it's perfectly named. The music buzzes along on a wave of rickety kinetic energy akin to that of a moped weaving through traffic. We're not talking about smooth Italian "Vespa" sophistication here. We're talking 1978 Honda Hobbit. With that in mind, I wish they'd made this their album cover:

Mike Kelly

Frightened Rabbit -- Floating in the Forth 

Just this everyone.  

I'll steer myself
Through drunken waves
These manic gulls
Scream it's okay
Take your life
Give it a shake
Gather up
All your loose change
I think I'll save suicide for another year.

And this:  

"Be so good to everyone you love. It's not a given. I'm so annoyed that it’s not. I didn't live by that standard and it kills me. Please, hug your loved ones"

What's so simultaneously amazing and horrifying are the extremes that take it takes to understand what life is capable of making you feel.  It's a plus.  -- MK 

Kathy Seiler

It’s been 10 weeks since I posted and for that I am sorry, but the last couple of months have also been so overwhelming that I just couldn’t manage enough to post. The past 6 weeks or so have been particularly bad, with the death of two family members, selling our house and moving to an apartment, and the loss of our beloved greyhound Popy. Add drama at work, end of the semester, and everything else that might go wrong happening (the washer decided to leak the day before we moved out and the garage door broke the day before closing), and it felt like life was not only full of sorrow but literally kicking us hard in the ribs while we were down.

Today’s song is for all of my friends (many on this blog) who were there for me/us during all of this. The song Block of Wood is from Carbon Leaf’s album Love, Loss, Hope, Repeat. That’s about the best description of the past couple of months I’ve ever seen. The version I’ve included has expanded lyrics and is performed live outside, but below are the first few stanzas from the original that made me think of all of the wonderful people in my life who never tried to take my pain away but were there so I could cry. Thank you. You have LITERALLY made all the difference in my life these past couple of months. I have more love for you all than I will ever be able to express in words.

Grab your heart
We need to leave
There's no time to cry or grieve
For the fallen family tree

Rise above the flooding plain
Crouching low to dark the flame
Generations against the grain
Up in smoke, down the drain

If the fire, if the flood
Burns the tree and thins the blood
If your tears don't want to dry
I can help you cry

Through the night
Through the night and day
I can't take your pain away
But I can help you cry

Dave Kelley

To paraphrase the great philosopher Cartman, I am so fucking pissed off I can't stand it.  I just fucking despise our administration from top to bottom and most of the Republican leadership to boot.  Might as well throw in most of the folks who approve of this shit show.  I am sure by next week, I will be back to the slow simmering boil of the last two years.  Not this week though.

"I'm waiting for the last to be first and the first to be last

In a cardboard box 'neath the underpass."

"The Ghost of Tom Joad"  Bruce Springsteen

Originally recorded acoustically, the live performances are loud and raucous.  Combining my favorite musician with arguably my favorite American novelist make me a sucker for this one.  Plus it is a really angry song which suits my current mood

This live version features the great Tom Morello joining E Street.  Playing some jaw dropping solos with his guitar with the words "Arm the homeless" written across it, Morello really puts this over the top.  Bruce contributes strong guitar work and an impassioned intro.  This one does a body good.  Take your Spinal Tap speakers up to 11 on this one.

P.S.  Fuck these fascist bastards into the ground and pour some concrete on top.

Kevin Andrews

In 1954 the long playing record, the LP, was still in its infancy. Artists were no longer restricted to a 3 ½ minute recording. The musical palate was now 22.5 minutes per side. Around this time Frank Sinatra was beginning to piece his career back together. His television show was cancelled and his record company dropped him. He was no longer the teen age heart throb. 

His wife Ava Gardner helped him land a role in in From Here to Eternity for which he won and Oscar and Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actor. With a new contract from Capitol Records he was entering his most productive musical period. 

Unfortunately, his marriage to Ava was ending and he was heart broken. She was the love of his live and he of hers though their actions didn’t reflect this since they were both serial adulterers. Several times Lana expressed her anger that women were treated differently than men in this regard. Men could have as many women as they liked but she was labeled a home wrecker or worse. Their exploits were legendary.

From this grief Frank created waht would come to be known as the first concept album, In The Wee Small Hours. This is the entire album, pick any song that you’d like. It’s beautiful and haunting, it gets the message across, he’s totally bummed out.

In episode 8 of Soundbreaking: Stories from the Cutting Edge of Recorded Music there’s a great section on this I’d highly recommend.

Phillip Seiler

As Gary has alluded to, our family has experienced a string of losses the last few weeks: two expected but still painful and one extremely sudden, random, and tragic. It has left both of us very weary and having to neglect some things that bring us joy such as music and hosting gatherings for friends. However, the exceptional kindness of our friends has helped us navigate and emerge from the other side. Bruised but not beaten. And I will say that while the book of face is a garbage platform that would harvest your most secret dreams and hopes and sell them, for pennies, to some asshole who believes bitcoins are really the future, our lives are controlled by chemtrails, and that gamergate was really about ethics in game journalism, I took some joy in the condolences from across my life: from the girl I was in a high school musical with who introduced me to Bauhaus to new friends to people I have only ever met on various message boards discussing music.

And that oddly segues into my choice for this week. I have been part of a 20+ year conversation about the music of Todd Rundgren that started on an AOL message board. It has waxed and waned as new releases have come and gone but there was a community around him that was always happy to discuss and share music. Recently, we all got a major gift as Todd and the members of his band Utopia were offered a chance to re-form and tour, something they had not done since 1992. The tour would consist of Todd, Kasim Sulton, bassist, Willie Wilcox, drummer, and Ralph Shuckett on keyboards. Roger Powell, who is the most recognized keyboardist for the band can no longer tour for medical reasons. I believe I heard that it was joint and tendon issues in his hands. Ralph was a keyboardist for the earlier, prog-rock version of the band. Sadly, he too developed medical issues and had to pull out. So with only weeks to go before opening night, the band had no keyboardist. They actually put out a call on the fan boards for anyone who might know the bands' catalog. The tour was envisioned to cover the band's entire career from their prog rock anthems to their later power pop so this was ambitious. Thankfully, Todd's son alerted him to a Gil Assayas who joined and learned all his bits in just a few short weeks. He is insanely talented and fit right in, it seems. (He records as GLASYS and well, here is bonus song for this week: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OSeYAhzWvrQ)

So last Sunday, I left my family for the night and drove to Boston to see a show I never thought I would get a chance to. It was both glorious and terrible. Todd had a cold (write some songs that don't rely on your upper range, Todd!), Kasim seemed like he might be next, the theater's seats were literally worse than sitting on broken glass and everyone there was too old to stand for the whole show. But, oh, was the music and musicianship amazing. Willie was the highlight for me as he agreed to take a hiatus from his day job composing music for gaming machines in Vegas but you would never know as he was tight and drove the show all night. Thankfully, Utopia had a long career so they had a large catalog to choose from and for two one hour sets they featured great song after song and many I thought I would never see live. I was happy for a few hours and it was good. 

  

So for this week I give you two songs I needed through this time. First, the hit they never had, Utopia's Love is The Answer

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1uCaIuPg-Fk

And the band's closing anthem, Just One Victory

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aygw3Q2dM8s

Some how, some way

We need just one victory

and we're on our way

Cyndi Brandenburg

As we celebrate the end of the semester and move into post-semester/pre-summer May mode, the storms of April work deadlines yield to the promise of sunshine and May flowers.  And of course, the time and space opens up for us to fully appreciate the magnitude of Gary Scudder's playful irreverence.  Welcome to American Horror Story: May Collaborative.  There is much in the way of spooky intensity and inexplicable phenomena lurking either just below the surface or beyond our peripheral vision in the halls of Aiken.  Lucky for us, we have the ability to appreciate the beauty of it all even as we battle persistent ghosts and demons and the occasional dead bat. This week, my selection is part tongue-in-cheek nod to the series that inspired this year's theme, and part recognition of the fact that some people have real staying power.  From Season 3, Coven, Stevie Nicks, Seven Wonders.  

Gary Scudder

Frightened Rabbit, Holy

As is all too often the case, this was not my first choice for the week.  Doubtless Hutchison's suicide inspired the post, but the song itself fits in brilliantly with the start of Ramadan in a few days.  I think we're all both too forgiving and too critical of our own faiths, even if the faith is atheism.  Certainly my own religion, as with all others, has more than it's fair share of self-righteous pricks. Beginning Wednesday morning I'll be fasting for a month straight from dawn to dusk (and, as last year's popular t-shirt reminds us, "No, not even water."). Technically, I should be fasting from fajr prayer, around 3:15 in the morning, but I don't start that early.  Instead, I'll set my alarm at 4:30, get up and drink four large glasses of water, two cups of coffee, and toss down enough eggs and toast and corned beef hash and bananas by 5:00 a.m. to, inshallah, last me until 8:30 p.m. This is a half-hour earlier than last year.  At one of the Iftar dinners last year one of the other guys at the mosque, in response to me admitting that I didn't start before fajr prayer, said, something akin to, "that's OK, brother, you tried," but not in the good way, but rather in the sanctimonious fashion.  My response was, "No, brother, that's enough, that's more than enough."  By that I didn't mean that he needed to shut up, but rather that fasting fifteen and a half hour a day for a month straight was actually more than enough.  If we were on a similar latitude in the southern hemisphere right now I'd be fasting about nine hours a day, and, if I live into my seventies, I guess I'll get to play that game because Ramadan moves about a week and a half earlier every year.  We fast during Ramadan to teach ourselves patience and self-control and to remind us of the people who in the world who are involuntarily not eating. Every religion has a contest between the greater internal truth and the external side of the faith, which all too often ends up being all people, both on the inside and the outside, see of the faith. Too many people turn the road signs that are supposed to help gently direct humans to the divine (even if it's inside them) into stop signs, and judge people harshly on their rolling stops. To be fair, I'm usually in a pretty dreadful mood leading up to Ramadan and during the first week.  A couple weeks ago during our monthly potluck our new Imam started an equally new tradition of having members introduce themselves and talk about their own personal journeys, and for some unfathomable reason he started with me (probably to set a very low bar so that others will feel better about themselves).  He mainly wanted me to talk about the challenges of being a convert, and I focused on Ramadan - which, for new converts, tends to be pretty lonely time of the year. I shared my memories of the first Friday prayer during my first Ramadan and how the previous Imam started waxing philosophically about how Ramadan was the most magical time of the year, and I wanted to jump up at the time and say, "Seriously?  Do you see anybody here having fun?"  Happily, everyone in the audience thought that was quite funny. So, check back in a couple weeks and I'll hopefully have more positive songs.  At this moment I'll stick with Frightened Rabbit's Holy, which is a pretty solid dig at those who are quite full of themselves and more than willing to tell you about it (I think it also goes further afield than that).

I really need a copy of this shirt for our Champlain recognition lunch for this coming Wednesday.  Our college went from a big blowout end of the year party with unlimited eats and drinks - to a party with two drink tickets - to a noonday lunch because of the demand for a midday event (no one can remember this demand, naturally) - and they then managed to witlessly schedule it for the first day of Ramadan so that the school's Muslim employees have to attend and watch all their colleagues have lunch (although, at least not drink the two drink tickets of distant memory).

Lunch at Kidike

Even though I finished Proust several months ago I still find myself desperately far behind in posting.  It's been a dreadful, long, exhausting year, and I don't think I ever finished a semester more tired or less enthused.  Good time to jump into Ramadan, and I'm actually sincere on that front.  The month is both exhausting and invigorating.

Nevertheless, let me at least make an effort at getting some posts up, although I may be revisiting them and adding more detail later. With every trip we try new things, most of which turn out to be good ideas. On our last trip to Zanzibar in January our great friend Kombo Bakar suggested that we include a cooking class.  Truthfully, Steve and I figured this would be very low key, with the students divided up among different families to maybe go to the market and then maybe cook one dish together.  Instead, we took over Kombo's house, and it seemed that most of the folks from the village of Kidike helped us cook.  It turned out to be one of the students' favorite activities, and we'll definitely be doing it again

As any cook knows, you have to stop and taste along the way.  Grace seems a little hesitant, but she loved it.

It wasn't all just eating sweets - there was work to be done!  Here's Claire harvesting cassava. On trips like this there are always students who are front and center to try everything, and Claire was definitely one of them.

Yes, not every task was as glamorous as digging up cassava. There was chicken plucking, which was completely dominated by Shelsea.

Shelsea holding up her freshly plucked chicken, which clearly never stood a chance.

And then there were the chicken pluckers, like Steve, who fought bravely . . .

Here's a picture of Wes chopping up fish for lunch.

Steven was also front and center for most challenges.

Nothing says a great meal in Zanzibar like octopus.

The colors of Pemba.

And, finally, the students were able to sit down in Kombo's living room and tackle the delicious lunch that they had prepared.

Discography Year Two - Week 35

It's already the thirty-fifth week of the second year of our Discography, and, as the great Canadian philosopher reminds us, time fades away. By midnight tomorrow night I will have recorded my grades for another semester, and the numbers are starting to get surreal.  In the fall of 1982, as a twenty-two year old first year graduate student I gave my first lecture, fulfilling one of my duties as a TA for a professor who was out of town.  The lecture was on Sparta, a subject I knew nothing about, but I can remember the experience vividly, and only partially because I was terrified (as my friends and colleagues know, I hate public speaking - and it was a class of over a hundred students, and, well, they were my age).  I also remember it because I had this flash about half-way through where it suddenly hit me - damn, this is fun. Until that moment I was simply killing time trying to figure out what I should do with myself after graduation from college, and the University of Cincinnati had provided the best option (which you can also read as: the only option) by giving me a full-ride TA-ship. I've never been off a college campus since (truthfully, I guess you can stretch this back to the fall of 1978 when I first stepped onto the campus of Franklin College).  Anyway, I taught my first course in the summer of 1984 as I was finishing my MA, which I guess means that I'll soon be entering into my thirty-fifth year of teaching college students (which soon, soon, all too soon, if it hasn't happened already, I will have been teaching college students longer than some of my colleagues have been alive).  Damn, dude.  Anyway, I guess this is by way of saying that the end of each passing semester hits me a little harder.  As I've proposed before, in our line of work the end of December tends to mean nothing, but the beginning of May has a tremendous end of the year weight to it.  I guess each passing week of the Discography also carries a greater weight, especially since GB's passing.  Having said all that, rest assured that this won't be our last year.

Oh, and on a less somber note, the esteemed Dave Kelley has sent along his choice for a theme which, which I vouchsafe as One of Excellence.  I'm thinking that I'll release it next week, which will give us a couple weeks to reflect.

Dave Wallace

The Decemberists - Once in My Life

I think that I tend to take the Decemberists for granted, which I shouldn't do.  All of their albums have been good-to-great, with a couple of them near-classics.  They're really one of the best rock bands over the last couple of decades.   Although they're not as prolific as they use to be, every few years they put out a new album, which is always worth a listen and usually terrific.  Their recent album, I'll Be Your Girl, is no exception.  Stylistically, it's a little different from what they've done in the past, and it has a bunch of terrific songs.  For today's blog, I've selected the lead track, Once in My Life.

Kevin Andrews

This past week a few of us saw Nichole Atkins at Higher Ground. She’s a very talented veteran singer and songwriter with some unexpected influences. Her sound is kind of Brill Building meets Broadway with some Roy Orbison sprinkled on top. (Yes, the Brill Building is on Broadway. That’s not what I mean)

She reminded me of another similar artist I saw in Burlington years ago at a free Battery Park show, Tracy Bonham. This was in 2005 after the release of Blink the Brightest, her fourth release. It remains one of my favorite shows, she was great but she also opened for Glen Phillips of Big Head Todd fame. Both of them in the park with a guitar, no back up bands. 

Tracy is best known for her 1996 song Mother Mother which got a lot of Alternative Rock airplay and was nominated for a Grammy. When Mother Jones reviewed Blink they said Bonham could be Sheryl Crow’s moodier, less sociable sister. I love that. Blink is an excellent album and it’s not easy to pick a stand out track, so I’ll pick this since it recalls the theme (to me) of this blog, Something Beautiful.

While poking around the interwebs at Tracy Bonham songs, I found her latest album which has a song called, no doubt – tongue-in-cheek, One Hit Wonder. Also another song coincidentally featuring Nichole Atkins. I’d love to see them tour together.

Dave Kelley

"All of our words are written down in chalk

Out in the rain, on the sidewalk."

Buddy Miller. "Chalk"

Buddy is one of my favorite under the radar musicians.  Gary Beatrice was a big fan and turned me onto him.  Miller has released solo albums, records with his wife Julie, and played guitar for Steve Earle, Robert Plant, and Emmylou Harris.  

This has been a year that has already seen too many people I care about die.  A little melancholia and heightened sense of mortality is natural I think.  Perhaps that is what brought this song to mind.  I heartily encourage any if you not familiar with Buddy Miller to check him out.

"Water When The Well Is Dry"  Buddy Miller

I found I could not limit myself to one Buddy Miller song.  This is from my favorite album of his "Midnight and Lonesome."

Alice Neiley

It seems like this group talks about friendship a fair bit, which I so appreciate, as it's always been a huge part of my life, and too few people actually discuss or muse its particular bonds and big-love-qualities. 

All that to say, I do a lot of driving, and was thinking about friendship today while on my way home to Canada, how I'm so lucky to have wonderful friends (you all) in Vermont, as well as in Ottawa. But part of that luck, that embarrassment of riches, is the pang in my chest whenever I leave one place for the other. 

Truthfully, there's something pleasurable about such a tangible reminder of love, of why I want to be in two places at once. 

These songs reflect that pang, for both friends and home, or home with friends, or friendship that feels like home, or partners who are home and friendship -- the house with the red door, the little kids ringing our doorbell to ask if they can borrow my basketball, and daffodils sprouting up everywhere, the writing--and, of course, the teaching, and you all, so inspiring, perfect (to me, at least), and (don't take this the wrong way) ridiculous :). 

Brandi Carlile: Dying Day 

Wailin' Jennys: Driving 

Alison Krauss: Longest Highway

Gary Scudder

Neil Young, Four Strong Winds

Typically, this week's selection was not my first choice, or even my second, but, following my personal directive, it's the one I'm thinking about right now.  The other night the truly excellent Kevin Andrews, Mike Kelly and I (the truly excellent description affixes to  KA and MK) went to a really good Nicole Atkins concert at Higher Ground so rest assured you'll be hearing much more from her soon.  However, when I was writing up my post for her song Kill the Headlights I was also listening to other music, and by random chance started listening to Young's album Comes a Time.  It's not a great album (truthfully, I don't think there's a uniformly great NY album after the ditch trilogy) but it's really solid and better than I always remember, and, appropriately enough for this discussion, I tend to forget about it.  It was released in the middle of an extraordinary decade for Young featuring a lot of dark, brilliant music, so the more gentle and even sweet Comes a Time is a definite outlier. By far my favorite song on the album is Four Strong Winds, which features some lovely accompanying vocals from the late Nicolette Larson.  It may not be the ultimate Breakup Song, it may be the ultimate Inevitable Breakup Song.  What I didn't know at the time was that it's a cover (which is pretty rare in Young's long career, at least until that bizarre album he recorded in a phone booth in Jack White's studio).  The song itself was written by the Canadian songwriter Ian Tyson, which I guess further explains the very Canadian nature; apparently at times Canadians have voted it the best Canadian song (which sort of sounds like my category of Best American Band, meaning that the band had to be from America and also wrote songs about America). It first appeared in its original very folk version in the early 60s from Ian & Sylvia. It's been covered many times since, including by Bob Dylan.  And, of course, you can't find the Dylan version.  I think Dylan is much more proprietary than most artists because it's hard to find many of his songs on YouTube, which I guess I understand.  By comparison, I don't know if there's any NY songs that are not on YouTube, which either says something good or bad about him.  Johnny Cash also did a brutally brilliant cover in the years before he died (apparently Tyson's favorite cover) and it's impossible to listen to it without viewing it as a metaphor for Cash's fragile and failing tie to his own mortality. Having said all that, in the end I think the Young version will remain my favorite simply because it's so tied in with my own history.