Discography - Week #3

We said from the beginning that, beyond the occasional yet to be planned theme weeks, that we'd just let it flow and see where we ended up.  I haven't picked up a theme so far, which is a great theme.

Dave Wallace

Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes, This Time It's for Real

The first three Southside Johnny albums are under-appreciated classics.  While the third album, Hearts of Stone, is the best of the bunch, this title track from his second album is my favorite song.  From the kick-ass opening, the song barrels along, powered by the Jukes horns. The whole thing threatens to spiral out of control at the end, but manages to hold together until the fade-out.  Kudos to Steve Van Zandt for writing, producing, playing guitar, and singing back-up.  These albums set the template for his classic first album, Men Without Women.

Miranda Tavares

John Fulbright, Moving

Like any good yuppie, I first heard this song on NPR. Fullbright was doing an interview, and he gave a short synopsis of the song prior to NPR playing it. He said (and I'm paraphrasing here) that no matter where our lives take us, no matter what war is going on, no matter whether we sleep in a bed or a doorway, the earth is moving around the sun at 66,000 miles per hour. Here's the chorus:

Don’t worry about gasoline
We’re moving
Don’t worry about the tv screen
We’re moving
Don’t worry about the bombs that fall
We’re moving
Don’t worry about nothing at all

People are different, and I know some get terrified at the idea of our own insignificance, but I have always found this song incredibly soothing. When I'm worried about whether I'm making the right decisions, or stressed about the potential impact of other people's wrong decisions, I listen to this to remind myself that none of it matters. We are all on the same spherical boat traveling the same 66,000 mile an hour journey, and nothing anyone does is going to change that. You make your way the best you can for your own sake, but in reality, on a cosmic level, there are no wrong decisions. In fact, there aren't any decisions at all. And on that note:

There’s times the lines get hard to see
And there’s days the haze takes over me
But in the end you’re gonna grit your teeth
And keep moving

Gary Scudder

Bill Evans, Young and Foolish

This week's selection is not what it started out to be, which usually means that it is a better choice than the original.  It's like when I'm riding up the hill at Champlain on my to an 8:00 a.m. class and I have a mad inspiration that I throw together in fifteen minutes, and it ends up being much more successful than the class I planned for two weeks.  Initially I began to write an homage to the brilliant Bill Evans composition Peace Piece, which is essentially an improvisation on his extraordinary album Everybody Digs Bill Evans.  The album, which also features Sam Jones on bass and Philly Joe Jones on drums is essential.  I'll revisit Peace Piece later in the year, but at this moment I'm consumed by Young and Foolish.  I just think it's achingly beautiful and it makes me cry every time I hear it.  It's hard to imagine having anything else to add, other than maybe at this moment in my life I need beauty even more than peace.

Gary Beatrice

Ray Wylie Hubbard, Mother Blues

Ray Wylie Hubbard is a swampy styled blues guitarist from Texas who wrote "Up Against The Wall Redneck Mother" for Jerry Jeff Walker decades ago, a fun, but insubstantial hit which doesn't come close to capturing his style or his wry, witty observations, but still pays his bills. Those interested could better scratch the surface of his substantial body of work checking out songs like "Loose", "Rabbit", "Snake Farm" and "Screw You, We're From Texas". My personal favorite is "Mother Blues" an autobiographical tune which is a bit more restrained than his typical song, but every bit as brilliant.
While "Mother Blues" is thoroughly entertaining in its twists, turns and surprises, what makes it so unique to my ears is how in its final moment it clearly and without any irony celebrates a theme that is rare in popular music, especially in blues: his gratitude for the wonders of his life.
   When I keep my gratitude higher then my expectations
   Well, I have very good days.

Mike Kelly

Prince, Raspberry Beret

I know you’re thinking that the last thing the world needs is another thinkpiece about what Prince’s music meant but I’d like to highlight the time he wrote a top-10 single about having sex in a barn. 

To summarize Raspberry Beret:  Slack-ass narrator thinks back on a time when he worked a shitty job with a racist boss and a hot girl came in the store.  The brazen girl in the weird hat initiates a suggestive conversation so the narrator does the obvious thing which is take her on a motorcycle riding date. When things get heated they decide to pull over and screw with a series of farm animals watching them as the rain pours down. Those were the days, says Prince. 

What distinguishes this song from other instances of teenage boy fantasy come to life in a song (I’m thinking of you, Warren G https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lMZmzEpmiuA) is the idea that Prince was actually capable of pulling off the narrator’s actions and pull them off in a way that gave a certain spirituality to the quickie.

“Something about the clouds and her mixed” and “Thunder drowns out what the lightning sees/and you feel like a movie star” give a particular urgency and eloquence to what normally devolves into boring tall tales about youthful virility.   

A couple of days after Prince died, this meme http://weheartit.com/entry/group/96422827 came out and after I saw it, I knew that I’d eventually write about this song for the blog. This amazingly glorious spring day seemed like the right time.  

Dave Mills

Bear Hands, 2 A.M.

Keeping it light this week, I've chosen a track from the newest Bear Hands album. It's a good example of the kind of post-punk indie rock coming out of Brooklyn these days, for better or for worse. This particular track captures my feeling after perusing last week's offerings in the discography. After scrolling through a playlist consisting primarily of tracks by bands that no longer exist and singers who have passed, the pre-chorus from 2AM came to mind:

All your friends are sober
Yeah, we're getting older
Going out's a drag now
All my spots have closed
And we can fantasize
Without much of a mess
And making love is fine
But all I want is to forget
How old I am.

That these lyrics are sung by a 27-year-old is quite depressing; the sentiment applies even moreso to those of us a few years (or more) ahead of him. In last week's discography, with the exception of Nate Bell's excellent contribution and Dave Kelley's timely Clash cut, the rest of us spent the week looking backwards. Perhaps a project like this naturally elicits such reflection, and perhaps such reflections naturally slow us down. Mike Kelly and I, who, without collusion or collaboration, each contributed a Nirvana track, couldn't even manage unfiltered Cobain, opting instead for the gentle buffers of alt-country and post-bop jazz. Yeah, we're getting older. So enjoy Bear Hands' homage to our collective dotage. I should also note that the music video looks like it was shot on scene at one of Scudder's Philosophaster parties at Bleak House, or on the second floor of Aiken Hall on a Fridayafternoon. And lastly, I should note that, contrary to the song's claim that "nothing good happens past 2am," Kountry Kart Deli in Burlington stays open until 3am. 

Dave Kelley

Bruce Springsteen, The River

Now those memories come back to haunt me
they haunt me like a curse
is a dream a lie if it don't  come true
or is it something worse
that sends me........

Recently Dave and I saw Bruce play the entirety of The River in sequence.  It was a very powerful and emotional experience.  A record that had a huge impact on me in my twenties had a very different  kind of impact on the 53 year old version of myself.

This song was based on the real experiences of his sister and her husband.  Not only does the lyric capture a life in a simple and beautiful way, but it deeply resonates on issues of loss and regret.  The music is beautiful and features great work on the bass and of course Roy Bittman and his usual stellar piano awesomeness.  In classic Bruce fashion, the singer may be sad and haunted, but the mother fucker is still going down to that river.
In the darkness of the concert venue, I am not ashamed to admit I had tears in my eyes during much of this song.