OK, first's thing first: just a quick reminder that next week, Week 17, is our second thematic week, which will focus on Guilty Pleasures. This week is the usual tomfoolery, with alternating highs of profound societal analysis and lows of, well, mainly just my posts. I think the unofficial theme this week may be self-medication in its many forms.
Well I am off to brunch. I have never tried cocaine or heroin, but bacon and breakfast potatoes certainly do kill my pain. :)
Gillian Welch, Barroom Girls
I know I've championed this song before back in the days of our monthly Facebook chats, but I can't help myself. As I proposed before, I just think this is akin to a perfect song, and by that I mean that it's hard to imagine that you could do anything to improve it. Barroom Girls starts with one of the great first lines, "Well the night came undone/ like a party dress/ that fell at her feet/ in a beautiful mess." I'd hate to think how many of my nights have come undone, although not as beautifully.
Dave Kelley
Steve Earle, Cocaine Cannot Kill My Pain
Lyrically this song has two major qualities which are always favorites of mine. Most importantly, Earle is being honest in a naked and unflinching way here. I greatly admire artists in general, and songwriters in particular, who lay it all out there without any bullshit or artifice. Coy and clever have their place, but are not what I am looking for in great art. Earle is clearly talking about something he has lived through personally in a brutally frank way. Earle did not call the Fountains of Wayne hotline when he wrote the song. The second aspect of the lyrics that gets me is the way that he fools the listener into thinking he is going in one direction until the song's true message is brutally delivered in the fourth verse.
In the first three verses Earle appears to be singing about defeating his addictions to cocaine, booze, and sex. The tone of his voice does not suggest triumph, but he is very clear that cocaine cannot kill his pain, whiskey's lost it's hold on me, and even sex don't work no more. Any hope that the song is about overcoming addiction is destroyed in the fourth verse:
"Cause heroin's the only thing
Heroin's the only thing
Heroin's the only thing
The only gift that darkness brings
Heroin's the only thing."
Earle has struggled with cocaine and alcoholism. He has been married seven times and has talked about spending twenty years following his dick wherever it led him. He is also a recovering heroin addict and spent time in prison for possession of heroin. We all see the carnage being caused by heroin. Working in the court system has given me some frightening insight into what a powerful and lethal addiction it is. From Earle's experience, it is so powerful that it made him lose interest in all of his other addictions. The pain in his voice throughout the song is now explained.
The great Townes Van Zant was Earle's mentor. Earle has recorded with and produced Lucinda Williams and worked extensively with Guy Clark, John Prine, Darrell Scott, and Buddy Miller. Among the many artists who have covered his songs are Johnny Cash and Tom Petty. All of these performers have either already been included in our lists or certainly will be in the next nine months. Talent recognizes talent.
Gary Beatrice
The Gourds, Gin and Juice
Ok, I admit that Gin and Juice is offensive in every way. I generally do not care for songs that reference bitches and hos, nor do I love the genre of bluegrass versions of rock songs. But damn this song rocks, and I do not view it as a parody of the original as much as a tribute (although the Gourds surely knew this was funny, especially since they maintained the references to Snoop Dogg, Dr. Dre and Compton). And these two points constitute my entire justification for including it in this blog. Actually point three: I love the line "Got my mind on my money and my money on my mind."
Ok, I admit that Gin and Juice is offensive in every way. I generally do not care for songs that reference bitches and hos, nor do I love the genre of bluegrass versions of rock songs. But damn this song rocks, and I do not view it as a parody of the original as much as a tribute (although the Gourds surely knew this was funny, especially since they maintained the references to Snoop Dogg, Dr. Dre and Compton). And these two points constitute my entire justification for including it in this blog. Actually point three: I love the line "Got my mind on my money and my money on my mind."
Dave Wallace
Car
Seat Headrest, Drunk Drivers/Killer Whales
Is
Car Seat Headrest the next great rock band? Is that even a meaningful
distinction anymore? I don't know the answers to those questions, but I
do know that I've been totally digging their new album, Teens of Denial.
This song is my favorite thing on the album, a a somber rumination on
post-party melancholia. I can't get the "It doesn't have to be like
this/Killer Whales" chorus out of my head (although I'm not sure what
killer whales have to do with the theme of the song), and his wordless
vocalizing at the end of the song is awesome.
Dave Mills
Steve Earle, Jerusalem
This is the title track from Steve Earle's 2002 album,
which, for any longtime listeners to his work, isn't really anything new. But I
like a good dose of his music every now and then, as he creates a kind of
protest music that is far too difficult to find in today's musical landscape.
Maybe this album gets a bit too preachy at times, and it definitely doesn't
break any ground stylistically, but it still feels gutsy, given that it was
released about 1 year after 9/11. You may remember the national spirit at the
time, and the soundtrack that accompanied it -- Toby Keith's "Courtesy of
the Red, White and Blue" for example (notice the lack of an oxford
comma in his title -- a clear sign of an inferior musician). Earle's album
included tracks like "John Walker's Blues," at attempt to explore the
human psychology of "The American Taliban" and Amerika v 6.0, a
critique of the lack of critical activism in contemporary America. Most tracks
on the album are direct or allegorical critiques of what America has become, a
collective challenge to imagine a better response to the 9/11 attacks than Toby
Keith's version. Again, this feels gutsy for that time. The title song is
actually the final song of the album. "Jerusalem" is a simple,
classic folk song, complete with gritty blues harp opening and bridge, and
chugging percussion. (Back in the day when some friends and I would get
together to play music, this was always one of our favorites to play, as it is
simple, straightforward, energetic, and fun). Lyrically, after an album full of
songs focused on the problems of the world, Earle takes up the tradition
of John Lennon's "Imagine", and invites us to hope for a day in
which religion is no longer a cause for war, a world in which rather than
building walls ("for every wall you build around your fear/a thousand
darker things are born in here" -- from "Truth," on the
same album), "there'll be no barricades then/there'll be no wire or
walls/and we can wash all this blood from our hands /and all this hatred from
our souls." It will, no doubt, strike many as naïve, and perhaps it
ultimately is. But if we can't imagine a better world, then we have nothing to
strive for, and no reason not to follow Toby Keith in "putting a boot up
the ass" of those we regard as enemies.
Tool's "Opiate" is the perfect choice for
hating the cult of personality we currently see flaunting itself in the news
every day lately.
Miranda Tavares
Greenland is Melting, No More Sorry Songs
About 6 years ago, Nate and I went to see a random show.
We had never heard of any of the bands, but tickets were $5, there were 4
bands, and we liked those odds. It was at the upstairs of the old Southgate
House, a small venue, and drew about 30-40 people, a respectable number for
that room. For some reason, every band would come off the stage and come up to
us, ask us how we liked the show, how we heard about it, etc. As the last band
took the stage, we realized that the audience was made up solely of band
members and their guests, and we were literally the only two unfamiliar faces
in the crowd. That was when it really hit me what it means to be a musician:
the highs, the lows; playing for an empty room, playing for an enthusiastic
crowd; playing for free to a bunch of your buddies and two random strangers
that you might have made $3.50 off of after the venue took its share. And these
guys didn't have to come talk to us. They drew attention to the fact that we
were the only people in the room they didn't know. We would have left feeling
like we saw some great music with some really enthusiastic people. We would
have been impressed with the fan base. But these guys were not rock stars, and
they didn't try to act like it, and it impressed me that they seemed to want us
to like them as much as we clearly liked their music.
Greenland is Melting is the third band we saw that night,
and remains a staple on out playlist despite them throwing in the towel last
year. I highly recommend everyone check out their version of Wayfaring
Stranger. The harmony is killer. But No More Sorry Songs is my favorite. The
lyrics have some cool phrasing - "I've been losing sleep and drugs and
thoughts and time and tiny pieces of my mind that you borrowed without asking
me" and "this is hope in the form of a song that no one should ever
hear"- , the cadence is gently infectious, and, again, that harmony. A
jaunty little stand up bass line, too.
This band also told me one of my favorite jokes: A
chicken and an egg are lying in bed. The chicken lights a cigarette, sighs, and
says, "Well, that answers that question."
Nate Bell
Tool, Opiate
I first thought of submitting this song based on the
current political cycle, and for that, the lyrics couldn't be more fitting.
"Choices always were a problem for you.
What you need is someone strong to guide you.
Deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow,
what you need is someone strong to guide you..
like me, like me, like me, like me"
Tool has always had great lyrics along with a very solid
industrial sound, not as mechanical as many, but with amazing bass lines and
very solid guitar work. They excel in the lyrical content however.
Like I had said, the political context made me think of
this song. However, on the plane ride down to NC this Thursday, we were treated
to an hour long monologue from across the aisle by a 19-20 year old who rambled
loudly about his Faith nonstop. I don't begrudge a person real faith, but in
this entire hour I heard not a single mention of the content of his belief, nor
what purpose his mission trips achieved, but rather just a droning recitation
of how his faith was stronger and truer than various family members, how his
peers didn't adhere completely to "full christian values" (undefined
and not explicated), and how he had to "minister" to various people.
His self centered narcissism parading as Faith made me think the original
content referring to Marx's favorite line, still holds true out there in the
wider world with those who wield the word faith as a weapon.
"If you want to get your soul to heaven, trust in
me.
Now don't judge or question.
You are broken now, but faith can heal you.
Just do everything I tell you to do."
Cyndi Brandenburg
10000 Maniacs, PeaceTrain
I am trying to remain apolitical on this blog, but the political heat
generated by the current firestorm is getting harder and harder to
keep at bay. This version of the song, which was one of my favorites
when it was first released in 1987 on the 10000 Maniacs' In My Tribe
album, has a pretty simple message whose continued relevance is hard
to deny. Listening to its upbeat optimistic rhythm makes me feel
happy in spite of myself. And considered in its historical context,
it represents the curious and circuitous nature of stormy differences,
divisiveness, and reconciliation.
For those of you who don't know the backstory, the song was originally
written by Cat Stevens in 1971 at the height of the Vietnam War. (A
time I remember well, despite being so young, because of my privileged
liberal upbringing and a father who at the time was an administrator
at a big state university, putting out trash can fires, keeping the
police off campus grounds, bailing his faculty members out of jail,
and the like.) A few years later, Stevens converted to Islam and
changed his name to Yusef. In 1989, after he made some controversial
comments related to the fatwa against Salman Rushdie, Natalie
Merchant had her version of the song removed from subsequent editions
of the album. The 10000 Maniacs' version wasn't re-released until
2004 on their compilation album Campfire Songs: The Popular, Obscure,
and Unknown Recordings.
I find the lessons embedded here to be strangely hopeful. I guess
when it comes right down to it, pendulums can always be counted on to
swing back the other way. So let's head down to the river, hop on the
peace train, and figure out how to get our individual and collective
shit together. Come on people. We've got this.
I am trying to remain apolitical on this blog, but the political heat
generated by the current firestorm is getting harder and harder to
keep at bay. This version of the song, which was one of my favorites
when it was first released in 1987 on the 10000 Maniacs' In My Tribe
album, has a pretty simple message whose continued relevance is hard
to deny. Listening to its upbeat optimistic rhythm makes me feel
happy in spite of myself. And considered in its historical context,
it represents the curious and circuitous nature of stormy differences,
divisiveness, and reconciliation.
For those of you who don't know the backstory, the song was originally
written by Cat Stevens in 1971 at the height of the Vietnam War. (A
time I remember well, despite being so young, because of my privileged
liberal upbringing and a father who at the time was an administrator
at a big state university, putting out trash can fires, keeping the
police off campus grounds, bailing his faculty members out of jail,
and the like.) A few years later, Stevens converted to Islam and
changed his name to Yusef. In 1989, after he made some controversial
comments related to the fatwa against Salman Rushdie, Natalie
Merchant had her version of the song removed from subsequent editions
of the album. The 10000 Maniacs' version wasn't re-released until
2004 on their compilation album Campfire Songs: The Popular, Obscure,
and Unknown Recordings.
I find the lessons embedded here to be strangely hopeful. I guess
when it comes right down to it, pendulums can always be counted on to
swing back the other way. So let's head down to the river, hop on the
peace train, and figure out how to get our individual and collective
shit together. Come on people. We've got this.
Gary Scudder
Gillian Welch, Barroom Girls
I know I've championed this song before back in the days of our monthly Facebook chats, but I can't help myself. As I proposed before, I just think this is akin to a perfect song, and by that I mean that it's hard to imagine that you could do anything to improve it. Barroom Girls starts with one of the great first lines, "Well the night came undone/ like a party dress/ that fell at her feet/ in a beautiful mess." I'd hate to think how many of my nights have come undone, although not as beautifully.
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