Wow, little more than a month left in our year-long Discography music discussion. Yes, I know, I make a similar point every week, but I guess I've been having way too much fun taking part in this dialogue and it pains me that we're soon be drawing to a close. However, I'm really happy that we've recorded it on the blog for future revisits.
Van Morrison, Into the Mystic
By the time you read this week's post the esteemed Cyndi Brandenburg and I will be, inshallah, in India on the first leg of our adventure - but through the magic of the nano-overlords at Blogger we'll all be together, at least musically. So, what better choice could I have this week than Morrison's Into the Mystic from his wonderful album Moondance. Although, I suppose, the song Moondance is what most casual listeners remember about the album, truthfully, while I really like that song, it might be the weakest song on the album. When I'm promoting music discussions I will sometimes ask the questions: what are the two best songs back to back on an original album? While I have argued several possible combinations over the years, I've often suggested Caravan and Into the Mystic. While that may or may not be Correct Answer (another crazy discussion forum I used to run) I do know this: it is physically impossible to listen to those songs back to back and still be unhappy. Over the years I've often set my alarm clock to play Into the Mystic, which always seemed like a fitting way to start the day. It's certainly a great way to kick off a trip to India. This is my sixth or seventh trip to India, but I'm really excited to see it again for the first time through the eyes of my most excellent friend and titular sister Cyndi. I always associate India with my transformation into being a traveler (I still have to remind myself that I didn't even have a passport until I was forty-two, but that in the fifteen years since I've spent at least two of those years overseas). The first place I ever visited was Dubai in the UAE and then, shortly thereafter, India, both times because Champlain College actually had branch campuses in Dubai and Mumbai - and because nobody else wanted to go. That said, on my first visits to the UAE and India our administrative overlords kept a very close rein on us and we never had much time to explore, which increasingly frustrated me. On our second visit to India a manic Hindu religious festival was going on outside the walls of the school and I just walked out of the gates and disappeared, like Larry Darrell in Somerset Maugham's The Razor's Edge, into the chaos. The festival celebrated Krishna's birthday, and teams competed in the streets to build human pyramids to smash clay pots suspended fifty or sixty feet or more in the air. One of the teams adopted me as a mascot and I sat in the street with them and ate their preparatory meal. I don't think I was ever the same person again. Oh, and with all that in mind, the Indian festival of Holi will be taking place in India when Cyndi and I are there; into the mystic indeed.
Gary Beatrice
Elton
John, Madman Across the Water
At his peak in the early and mid seventies Elton John was a very good pop artist. We tend to forget that because of the crap he's made since and because that time period was dominated by some rock artists who never made the AM radio, which was what most of us young folks listened to in the day. He didn't do much that qualified as "great" but his early music is no guilty pleasure either.
A few years ago he re-released my favorite of his albums, Tumbleweed Connection, and to my surprise it included an extended version of Madman Across the Water which is amazingly powerful. John has a limited vocal range but he and the guitar and base drive a sinister feel that was only hinted at in the second version, which was the only one known for forty years.
Invest nine minutes in this and you may have a higher opinion of Elton John.
At his peak in the early and mid seventies Elton John was a very good pop artist. We tend to forget that because of the crap he's made since and because that time period was dominated by some rock artists who never made the AM radio, which was what most of us young folks listened to in the day. He didn't do much that qualified as "great" but his early music is no guilty pleasure either.
A few years ago he re-released my favorite of his albums, Tumbleweed Connection, and to my surprise it included an extended version of Madman Across the Water which is amazingly powerful. John has a limited vocal range but he and the guitar and base drive a sinister feel that was only hinted at in the second version, which was the only one known for forty years.
Invest nine minutes in this and you may have a higher opinion of Elton John.
Dave Wallace
Spinners - Mighty Love
Continuing DW soul month, the
Spinners were a terrific Philly soul act from the 70's, who released a number
of fantastic songs, maybe the greatest of which was Mighty Love.
My favorite part of the song is Philippé Wynne's ad-lib vocalizing during its
last couple of minutes.
Kathy Seiler
Crosby & Nash, ImmigrationMan
This is in light of Muslim Ban
2.0. There's really nothing more to say.
Phillip Seiler
Kirsty Maccoll's Us Amazonians
The two great tragedies of Kirsty MacColl's life are
that she is not better known and that she was taken from us just as she was
exploring the reaches of her music. Her last full studio album had her
embracing South American rhythms while maintaining her sardonic wit. The album,
Tropical Brainstorm, is a feast of great songs from Treachery (a song about a
singer stalking her former fan for buying someone else's music), Autumngirlsoup
(cooking metaphors put to their best use), England 2, Columbia 0 (a lament to
an almost terrible hookup). But Us Amazonians is a standout for me with the
infectious carnival drumming, a melody that hums in your brain long after the
notes have stopped but mostly for the unabashed celebration of womanhood and
female sexuality. Kirsty was always cheeky and brash in her lyrics (notably at
odds with major stage fright she felt, apparently.) But this song above all
celebrates her fullness and love of being a women.
"Us Amazonians know where we stand
We got kids, we got jobs
Why do we need a man
Us Amazonians make out all right
But we want something to hold in the forest at
night."
Killed by a boat while swimming not long after, she
left with many songs unwritten. We are poorer for it.
Dave Kelley
Refugee - Tom Petty and
The Heartbreakers
While this song is really not
about actual immigrants or refugees, it certainly seems topical right now with
all of the nonsense coming out of the White House. Tom Petty is one
of the great American rock songwriters of the last three plus decades and also
has one of my favorite voices. Petty is also backed by one of the
great bands outside of E Street, and all of the musicians live up to their
billing on this classic song. Mike Campbell is just an amazing guitarist
who always elevates the songs that Petty writes. Benmont Tench's organ
also perfefctly complements the music here. One of my favorite sounds is
a surging organ dueling for space with an electric guitar. See also
"Independent Thief" by Kathleen Edwards or any number of classic
Springsteen songs. Not much to add other than to suggest listening to
this at the highest volume possible.
Mike Kelly
Last Goodbye -- Jeff Buckley
When Neko Case
taught us to hold out "for that teenage feeling" that was probably
just code for "remember to go listen to Jeff Buckley after you break up
with someone." What's so great about Last Goodbye as a breakup song is its
unapologetic willingness to feel something more nuanced than whiskey bottle-bad
after the split. When he asks her to kiss him "out of desire, babe,
not consolation" he's simultaneously sad, confident and open to the
possibility that torches that actually matter are tough to extinguish.
In the end though, he's not delusional enough to realize it's for the best that
it's all over. He can point to the little things adding up to a series of clues
that it's just not going to work out. While Hallelujah gets all the
credit, this song is the better representative of what Jeff Buckley was able to
do. Don't go rushing out to buy the whole record (as I'm writing this
post, I'm realizing how crappy lots of the songs are) again but remember that
confident breakup songs are the best breakup songs.
Gary Scudder
Van Morrison, Into the Mystic
By the time you read this week's post the esteemed Cyndi Brandenburg and I will be, inshallah, in India on the first leg of our adventure - but through the magic of the nano-overlords at Blogger we'll all be together, at least musically. So, what better choice could I have this week than Morrison's Into the Mystic from his wonderful album Moondance. Although, I suppose, the song Moondance is what most casual listeners remember about the album, truthfully, while I really like that song, it might be the weakest song on the album. When I'm promoting music discussions I will sometimes ask the questions: what are the two best songs back to back on an original album? While I have argued several possible combinations over the years, I've often suggested Caravan and Into the Mystic. While that may or may not be Correct Answer (another crazy discussion forum I used to run) I do know this: it is physically impossible to listen to those songs back to back and still be unhappy. Over the years I've often set my alarm clock to play Into the Mystic, which always seemed like a fitting way to start the day. It's certainly a great way to kick off a trip to India. This is my sixth or seventh trip to India, but I'm really excited to see it again for the first time through the eyes of my most excellent friend and titular sister Cyndi. I always associate India with my transformation into being a traveler (I still have to remind myself that I didn't even have a passport until I was forty-two, but that in the fifteen years since I've spent at least two of those years overseas). The first place I ever visited was Dubai in the UAE and then, shortly thereafter, India, both times because Champlain College actually had branch campuses in Dubai and Mumbai - and because nobody else wanted to go. That said, on my first visits to the UAE and India our administrative overlords kept a very close rein on us and we never had much time to explore, which increasingly frustrated me. On our second visit to India a manic Hindu religious festival was going on outside the walls of the school and I just walked out of the gates and disappeared, like Larry Darrell in Somerset Maugham's The Razor's Edge, into the chaos. The festival celebrated Krishna's birthday, and teams competed in the streets to build human pyramids to smash clay pots suspended fifty or sixty feet or more in the air. One of the teams adopted me as a mascot and I sat in the street with them and ate their preparatory meal. I don't think I was ever the same person again. Oh, and with all that in mind, the Indian festival of Holi will be taking place in India when Cyndi and I are there; into the mystic indeed.
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