Discography Archives - Miranda Tavares

This week we are once again dipping into the Discography Archives to celebrate the musings of one noted musicologist, in this case the peerless Miranda Tavares (her only rival would be her highly significant other Nate Bell, who we'll be celebrating next month).  She had a Sandy Koufax-esque first season on the Discography, dominatingly brilliant but cut short by injury (happily she's on the mend and ready to wreak havoc in season two).  What do we know about Miranda?: she has a highly successful career; she clearly loves dogs; she has great taste in men; she has wonderful friends who adore her; she thinks my son is handsome; she hates wimpy voices and whiny lyrics; she and Nate went off the rails when discussing best songs in movies; she combines an extensive knowledge of music with a subtle but fierce analysis; essentially, she's some kind of wonderful.

Week 1

Frank Turner, Love, Ire & Song

I had my first installment pretty much written in my head, a nice, solid, classic song with a nice, solid, classic theme.  But then I binge-watched 2 weeks worth of The Daily Show and had to call an audible. My pick of the week is Frank Turner's "Love, Ire & Song." It depicts the conflict between the pull of idealism and the pull of cynicism, each of which is not just a philosophical idea but has become, I would argue, a thought process necessary to survival. Frank writes about being older and looking back on younger days. He insinuates the young are stupid in their black and white thinking, labeling everything right or wrong, good or evil, being unwilling to compromise. Not only that, but the young believe (also stupidly) that they can change the world, right the wrongs and rid the evil. As one gets older, experiences teach that this is impossible. But he realizes that losing the hope that one has as a young idealist takes quite a bit of joy out of life. His chorus sums it up:

Oh, but once we were young, and we were crass enough to care
But I guess you live and learn, we won't make that mistake again, no
Oh, but surely just for one day, we could fight and we could win
And if only for a little while, we could insist on the impossible

It's hard to be an activist today. Change is hard to come by, and in fighting for change you lose more than you win. And when you do win, you are inevitable greeted by hate. The "smart", practical people take a good look at the odds and give up. But against all odds there remain people who never grew up, never lost that idealism, and truly believe, despite all evidence to the contrary, that change is possible. I give heartfelt thanks to those people. And I give heartfelt thanks to Frank Turner for writing this song that helps keep my mind open and my hope alive.

Week 2

Grand Funk Railroad, (She's) Some Kind of Wonderful

There are so many reasons to love this song. It's classic. It's catchy. It has horns. But I'm picking it because it is my favorite love song. Love songs often tend toward sappy and saccharine or mournful and maudlin. I get the sad ones; love lost is a complex, infinite topic, a bottomless muse. The sappy ones, well, if you've heard maybe five, you've heard them all. But this song captures the real reason we're all, as a species, obsessed with love: when we have it, when it's going right, it brings us pure, wholly uncomplicated joy. This song isn't about planning overly grand romantic gestures, or comparing your significant other to a summer's day. It's just about being very, very happy.

I picked this version over the original version because Grand Funk Railroad did what you're supposed to do when you cover a song: take it to the next level, and make it your own. The original is a little slower, nowhere near as jaunty, and misses some of the happiness. And GFR added the horns. 

Week 3

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

Week 4

Melissa Etheridge, No Souvenirs

A couple weeks ago I wrote about Grand Funk Railroad because I loved the way they captured the simplicity of happiness. But we human beings are complex, regularly experiencing multiple distinct, often conflicting emotions. And that's No Souvenirs. On it's face it's a song about a break-up.  However, the raw vulnerability of the lyrics and Etheridge's simple but powerful vocals and guitar are a striking contrast. The lyrics say "I know we're over, but I'm here if you change your mind." But instead of voicing this in the whiny, plaintive voice of much of today's indie rock (just the derivative stuff, of course; nothing that gets mentioned on here ), she belts it out boldly. The lyrics mention shame, but the guitar is unabashed. 

And even in the lyrics alone, there are layers to this song. This was written before Etheridge was open about being a lesbian, and so, to be honest to herself but to avoid alienating any listeners, she refers to the subject of the song as "you" as opposed to "him" or "her."  We've all loved and lost, and at this point in our lives we've probably been both the one running and the one discarded. Etheridge's use of "you," plus her easy, off-handed way of conveying both the rage and desperation of the runner and the grief and longing of the discarded make it easy to identify with either. Maybe I'm the one escaping, and, in my eagerness to erase all evidence of our time together, I surge, tornado-like out the door, my wake engulfing our photos, our memories, our entire music collection, your self-respect, and the last can of who-hash. "Burn the pictures, break the records, run far away to a northern town." Or maybe I'm the one watching the cyclone whirl out of sight, feeling so exposed it's as though it took my skin with it. "But if you want me, you can call me." 

And I can't mention this song without ensuring the meaning of the buffalo is clear. That first verse. It refers to a charm on a charm bracelet. 

Week 6

Social Distortion, Story of My Life 

As most of you are aware, I am the youngest member of this most amazing ongoing discussion. I say that to put this pick in perspective. Social D is the equivalent of The Clash for me. Yes, I understand The Clash was first, and was a major influence for Social D. But I was born in 1980, and I believe people are generally influenced by what they experienced first, not what occurred first chronologically. As criminal as it may seem, I was obsessing over Mike Ness before I knew there was a Joe Strummer. I knew all the words to Ball and Chain before I even heard Train in Vain. Social D defined my sense of self during my formative years. 

This pick is more about the band than the particular song. I was raised on Springsteen and The Beatles, exposed to the one hit wonder-type top 40 music of the '80s, then bombarded with the crap that was early '90's (Wilson Phillips, Milli Vanilli, New Kids on the Block) and I was starving for something meaningful, and something mine. I was a white, suburban, northern female brainwashed by MTV coming of age in the 1990's. Social D was my destiny.

In my view, the 1990's offered two options for a vaguely angst-filled teen bucking the mainstream: punk and grunge. Nirvana was integral. It captured the anger and confusion of growing up, questioning the reality presented to us, throwing away the norms. All of those feelings were inside me, but...I was a suburban kid. I had an ok life. Things were only as dramatic as I made them. Nirvana expressed things with a strength that I really did not feel. Social Distortion filled the void. They embodied the mundane sadness, dissatisfaction and banality that was the epitome of teenage life in middle america at that time. 

I picked Story of my Life because it is representative of what Social D means to me. It's catchy. Pop-py. Simple. But... there's an edge. In Ness's matter-of-fact vocals, in the meandering rhythm guitar, in the drum beat that is somehow a touch faster than the laid-back tone of the song would seem to warrant, there's an undercurrent of someone who might break. It's not imminent or anything, but it's there. And, really, when you cut it all dawn to the quick, that's the story of anyone's life.

Week 8

The Delta Saints,  A Bird Called Angola

The Delta Saints is a band of recently graduated suburban college kids from Nashville, as all soul-searing, bone marrow-resonating rock/blues bands are. We first saw them during Cincinnati’s Midpoint Music Festival. It was a tiny, unassuming bar, and we had read about them, but we had never heard them before and had no idea what to expect. Even if we had, we would not have believed it.  These guys were fire and ice.

They have since changed quite a bit, replacing their harmonica player with a keyboardist. We tried to educate them on the fact that these instruments are not the same, not even similar in the audile sense, but to no avail. I am no longer the diehard fan that I once was, but I remain fiercely loyal to their first 2 EPs and first full-length album.

A Bird Called Angola is not my favorite song of theirs, although, in fairness, I would be hard-pressed to say what is. I can say with certainty that their full length album Death Letter Jubilee is well worth 17 or so repeated listens, and I probably like 90% of that album more than A Bird Called Angola. But this song is one I first heard live, the first time I heard this band, and it is the embodiment of the style of The Delta Saints. These little white boys are absolutely steeped in a gritty Delta-Blues sound, and not only do they get it, they supercharge it.  The powerful, brain-clenching vocals, the complex, invigorating harmonica, the kick-ass guitar (yeah, I ran out of adjectives) - these all define The Delta Saints and why I will always love them, despite their ignorance of the fatality adding a keyboard to their sound in this decade.

Week 9

[editor's note - thematic week: covers better than the original]

Counting Crows, Friend of the Devil 

Pretty sure I am committing blasphemy here, but I’ve never been a Grateful Dead fan. Yes, there’s good music there, but  I don’t really dig the jam band sound for which they’re known, and I totally can’t get passed Jerry’s high, reedy vocals (which is also why I’ve never liked Neil Young; hey, if I’m going to get kicked off the blog, might as well do it in one fell swoop ;) ).  Friend of the Devil, as originally recorded by the Dead, is pretty fast-paced and up-beat, with some admittedly good guitar picking. The Dead started slowing the song down in live performances, but none that I’ve listened to comes close to the entirely new face Counting Crows put on the song. The mournful vocals (to be fair, Adam Durtiz pretty much only does mournful) are absolutely perfect for the loneliness inherent in the lyrics. The richness of the guitar and piano adds some depth and feeling sorely missing from the original version. 

I was torn between choosing the Counting Crows version or the Lyle Lovett version. Lovett’s version is much more stripped down, a couple guitars and a cello, which really highlights the loneliness (the backing vocals in the Counting Crows version detracts from that, I think). But Lovett lacks the intensity Durtiz displays. In Lovett’s version I hear too little feeling, too much acceptance of his lot in life, as though he has come out through the other side already and is stripped bare. In the Dead version I hear…jauntiness, I guess, which causes a disconcerting, overly-contrasting discord in relation to the lyrics. In the Counting Crows version, in each word, I can hear the both the wild-eyed desperation and impending resignation  that a man on the run must be feeling.

Week 10

Bottle Rockets, Smokin’ 100’s Alone

This was the first Bottle Rockets song I ever heard, and it caused an immediate obsession. This song is not really representative of their sound, and I truly love their sound, but this song is still my favorite. Is it because it is about a girl bereft, and I, too, have felt the pain of a girl bereft? Possibly, but that doesn’t feel right. Is it because the subject of the song is regretting making a hard, healthy decision, and is debating doing the easy, self-destructive thing by taking it back, and come on, who can’t relate to that? No, still not resonating. Is it, as my husband says, because I am from Cleveland, and a lyric contains the Cleveland-esque unnecessary preposition at the end of a sentence (“where’s he at?”)? No. 

It’s the guitar. That easy strum, followed by the rolling, melodic plucking after each line that makes you look up from whatever you’re doing in piqued interest and vague recognition, similar to a dog’s head tilting at the sound of his master’s voice. That guitar that feels like a stroke of your hair followed by an absent-minded, affectionate drumming of fingers by your spouse on the tender part of your neck. The guitar that’s akin to settling into bed, taking a deep breath, and letting out all of the frustrations of the day on exhale. 

The lyrics are good, but forget them. The vocals are solid, but who cares. If you need some chill time, you have two choices: fold yourself into the lotus position while trying to look at the tip of your nose, or throw on this song and let the guitar heal you from the inside out.

Week 11

American Aquarium, Casualties

As a kid, I loved the hair band type rock songs about partying and living the idyllic rock star lifestyle. Kiss, with Rock and Roll All Night, Poison having Nothin' But a Good Time, Bon Jovi and 2/3 of the Slippery When Wet album. Being a rock star was The Dream, and, like winning the lottery, it was unfathomable that there was a downside, and these songs were the soundtrack for that wished-for life. 20 years later, life is a bit more complicated. I am too tired to rock and roll all night (unless night ends at midnight), and on the rare times I manage to come close, I sorely regret it the next day. My good times come at a cost. I can let it rock, but only for short periods, and whenever I get wild in the streets I find myself feeling as though I got hit by a truck. 

And it's not just about getting old and tired. On a more existential level, getting older means discovering the old adage of "be careful what you wish for" actually has some merit. You work hard year after year to realize your dreams, then discover that maybe they weren't your true dreams after all. Or they stopped being your dreams at some point, but you were too goal-oriented to notice, and now here you are, in this life that you wanted ten years ago but maybe isn't so ideal now. But not to worry! There's a soundtrack for this life, too. 

Numerous bands have addressed the notion that rockstardom is not as glamorous as those hair bands would have you believe. There's Turn the Page, one of the more well-known "poor me, I'm a rockstar" song. But seeing as how it was written by an actual rock star and then famously covered by other rock stars makes me want to move my fingers to the tune of the world's saddest song being played on the world's smallest violin. Because, come on. Bob Seger, Metallica, you guys have money, and roadies, and tour buses and planes, and fancy hotel rooms. It ain't that bad.

The Trucker's really pull it off with The Living Bubba, and The Bottle Rockets with Indianapolis, and The Old 97's with both Niteclub and Longer Than You've Been Alive. The last one is probably my favorite because it strikes me as most realistic: it captures the dreariness, the dullness, the grinding of life on the road, but also the fun, and the reason why a band would keep doing it all those years. I like balance. I find it comforting.

All of the above preamble is to say that I am aware that this pick is perhaps not the best embodiment of the contrast between dreams and reality that I am in the mood to discuss right now. But I'm picking it anyway, because it strikes me as the most heartfelt. It opens forlornly, slow and sad and just flat-out worn down from life on the road. "Breaking points and broken guitar strings." Then it gets angry. But it rocks when it gets angry. The band is mad that rock and roll has let them down...but they can't help but to rock out while they complain about it. There's the lamenting about how they give and never get, but they can't help but keep giving. "Gave my heart to the highway, she returned it full of holes; I'm a casualty of rock and roll." At then end, you just feel like some things are destiny. And it's all ok, because you didn't have a choice in the matter, anyway. It might not make sense, you might wind up with the short end of the stick, but you do what you're called to do. 

My favorite line in the song is, "I should have been a doctor or a lawyer, or a policeman on patrol, but instead I'm a casualty of rock and roll." I went the lawyer route. It's ok. It pays the bills. But it's not exciting or fulfilling, and I think back to my younger self rocking out and picturing myself onstage, and sometimes I wonder where I went wrong. It's nice to know my idols are wondering the same thing.

Week 12

Nate and Miranda, joint post due to laziness and exhaustion

The Kids in the Hall, The Daves I Know

No, The Kids in the Hall aren't musicians, exactly, but they are artists and they are talented and we have been saving this one for a busy week when we need a quick post and we do know an awful lot of Daves. Some of our favorites are reading this right now. It's funny, it's weird, but it's also surprisingly good, musically. I mean, you known, considering. That drum beat is pretty infectious. We dare you to listen to this song without getting it stuck in your head for 5 hours.  You can't do it. It's just impossible.  Also, as you watch the video, enjoy the finest in 80's fashions and haircuts!  An added bonus! You're welcome.

Week 13

ZZ Top, Sure Got Cold After the Rain Fell

I am not a ZZ Top fan, but this song is pretty incredible. It's a fairly typical blues song as far as lyrics go: his baby left him for another man. Read the lyrics and it sounds as though the singer is mourning his loss. And this song is mournful, don't get me wrong. But the slow and deliberate guitar, the gentle drum beat, the murmuring bass - those come together in this song like a gentle, cleansing rain. I never feel sad listening to this song; I feel...tranquil. There is a lot of movement inherent in the melody, as though you are on a river flowing away from the source of your heartbreak, your loss, whatever ails you. Despite the title, despite the lyrics, the music feels like this song is about being at peace with the past, and allowing yourself to move on.

Week 14

Robbie Fulks, Fountains of Wayne Hotline

This song is hilarious! It envisions a formulaic band similar to Fountains of Wayne having the musical equivalent of writer's block, and calling a hotline to get some help. There are some choice terms in here: "radical dynamic shift," "slightly distorted melodic solo," "semi-ironic Beach Boys vocal pad," and "oh, thatGerald." Clearly, it's making fun of the bands who get radio play. And I can totally get on board with that. I rarely listen to the radio anymore. And when I tune in for that 20 minutes every three months, I am always amazed to find that somehow I still have heard all the songs before. Seems like every Top 40 artist has utilized the Fountains of Wayne Hotline.

But this song has another layer. Clearly there is some frustration on Fulks's part with having to follow a formula to get fans. "No fans, no singles, ten years laterI'm tired." So the artist has a choice: maintain artistic integrity and be heard by no one, or sell out, make your songs sound like all the others, and have your "art" appreciated. People are creatures of habit, and even the open minded like us esteemed musicologists can identify with the concept of a song "growing on us," meaning by the time we get around to liking it it's no longer new or innovative. Which is fine. The whole idea of music is to enjoy it. If you have to force yourself to listen to it, the purpose is defeated. 

Which brings me back to...this song is hilarious! The artist didn't lash out at listeners or mainstream media for failing to appreciate him. He didn't insult anyone's taste. There was no laying blame. He just poked a bit of fun. Thank you Robbie Fulks for expressing your real but unavoidable frustration with humor, creativity, and affectionate sarcasm. 99.8% of the human race could use a lesson in that.

Week 15

Van Morrison, Cleaning Windows

So, we're all Truckers fans here. You know that Jason Isbell song Something More Than Free? Beautiful song (although I'd be hard-pressed to find an Isbell song you couldn't call beautiful) about how work is killing a man, but he still thanks God for it every day, partly because he needs money, partly because he needs to feel useful and worthwhile, mostly because it's just how he was raised and he doesn't know any other way to be. Or that Chris Knight song Enough Rope that Bob did a few weeks ago, where the man is so stuck in his daily grind he can't even see death as a way out? Yeah...this is not those. 

Morrison sings about carrying ladders and cleaning the fan light, reading his Kerouac and listening to his blues, playing his saxophone and smoking his smokes. He doesn't try to make these things any more or less important than they are; they are simply his life, at least for that moment. He is incredibly self- aware...and he is happy.

I was raised on Sesame Street. I was taught "chase after your dreams!" and "you can do anything you want!" and "just work hard and nothing can stop you!" The most obvious problem of all of those sentiments, of course, is that none of them are really true. But even as a kid I understood the idea behind a sentiment, understood that it wasn't strictly literal, so I wasn't too damaged by that piece of the lies the muppets told me. What caused me angst throughout childhood, into my 20's, hell, up to about 5 years ago, if I am being honest (and why would I not be; we are all baring souls here, in one way or another) was that these sentiments presupposed that I had dreams, and specific goals in mind, and a plan to work hard at. I didn't.  I don't. I never have. I don't want to change the world. I don't care if I leave a mark. I just want to read my Stephen King (he may not be Kerouac but he's a goddamn genius), listen to my blues, and smoke my smokes. And, I suppose, collect the paycheck that allows me to enjoy those aforementioned things. I will never cure cancer, I will never run for office, I will never win the Pulitzer or a Nobel prize in anything. And it took me over 30 years to realize that that's ok. I'm happy cleaning windows.

Week 16

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.

Week 17

[editor's note - thematic week: guilty pleasures]

REO Speedwagon, Roll with the Changes

First off, I'd like to point out that this is not a terrible song. The guitar has some good licks, the piano is actually quite nice, and the vocals, while not really adding anything, don't detract either (see the inevitable Rush post). The lyrics are trite, but they make sense, and they resonate a bit with everyone. This song is perfectly representative of it's era. It is solidly mediocre. So why am I embarrassed by liking it?

Because I looooove it. I love it so much I would marry it (still waiting for SCOTUS to weigh in on that one).  I play it frequently, and, outwardly, in deference to my poor husband, I merely nod along. Inwardly, though, I am doing some quality air guitar, absolutely crushing the air piano, just full on jamming out with my clam out. In my sick and twisted imagination, my vocals are far more passionate than Kevin Cronin's, and... perhaps I am a bit teary, because I love the trite lyrics the most. I find them powerful. Yes they are simple. Yes they are cliched. But they need to be said. If you are not happy with your life, yourself, you situation, change something. People can help you, but only if you want to be helped. In the song it's about choosing one romantic partner over another, but life is full of choices, and this song is song is an excellent soundtrack for all of them. No one should have such strong feelings for such a generic piece of music. I feel like there should be a support group for me; "Hi my name is Miranda, and Roll with the Changes is my fight song." 

Week 19

500 Miles to Memphis, Cows to the Slaughter

So, not for the first, and I'm sure not for the last, time on this blog, I had a post all written in my head and then real life had to go and intervene. Cincinnati has made the national news for its heroin problem. In a 48 hour period, we had 70 heroin overdoses. Most of them were able to be brought back via Narcan. For some, all hope is lost. Literally. I am a child of the '80's, who came of age in the '90's, and I am no stranger to the idea and effects of heroin. I lost many an idol to heroin. But most of my musical interests created songs influenced by heroin as users. Nirvana is a screaming example, but there have been so many on this blog who have posted songs representative of the struggle of addiction, and the initial hopelessness that drives a person to experiment with such a drug in the first place. And all of that is poignant, and heartbreaking...and also makes for some amazing music. But there is a whole group of people who is underrepresented in the heroin-influenced group of music: those left behind. 

I am fortunate to have never lost a loved one to heroin. I have lost acquaintances, and, although I feel terrible for them, the reality is that they are gone. I feel most for the family, the friends, the ones who are left wondering what happened, what went wrong, what they could have fixed. They are the ones who continue to feel the pain the heroins users escaped. I cannot imagine the guilt, the anger, and above all, the utter confusion and disbelief that must haunt them throughout even the happiest moments of their lives following such a tragedy. 

I had in mind that I would use this blog to learn about new musicians, and in turn introduce people to musicians that they would not have otherwise heard, and therefore I had a personal covenant that I would not post about a band that someone else has already posted about. Nate has already introduced everyone to 500 Miles to  Memphis, and they are a great band, and I hope everyone listens to literally every song available online. However, today, right now, this song deserves special mention. And I have no indication that this song that I have selected is about heroin. However, I saw them live tonight, following the recent events that have plagued the news, and I was moved to tears when they played this song.

" What did this world do, to you that made you, turn out the way you did? You and the others, like cows to the slaughter, lined up and marched away." 

Show me a parent, a spouse, a relative, a friend, of an overdose who hasn't felt this exact sentiment, and I will show you a person with no soul. 

"You were like a picture, of everything that life could be." 

Isn't this all of us? We are all born with such potential. Even if we don't realize it to its full extent, none of us here have thrown it all away. My heart aches for those who have, and aches even more for those left behind to make sense of the senselessness. 

Week 20

Miranda's Pick, a three-fer: Reverend Peyton and His Big Damn Band, Raise a Little Hell and Clap Your Hands (yes, all kinds of cheating, two bands, and even two songs from one band); The O's, Outlaw

Dave Kelly posted about Darrell Scott a couple of weeks ago. I was at that show, and I absolutely second everything he said. However, he left out the thing that struck me the most about that show. Scott spoke to the crowd quite a bit, in a very natural, totally anti -"you make me want to shout 'shut up and play music'" way, and one of the things he spoke about was his guitar. He had several, but the one that riveted me was his baritone acoustic. I am not a musician, and literally all of my knowledge of playing music comes from seasoned (and un-seasoned, I guess) musicians enlightening me for the 17 seconds in between songs during shows. He said his guitar was cobbled together from various other guitars by a guy in L. A. who was a genius who taught other geniuses who just happened to also be misspent youths to cobble together guitars for a living. The result was...physics-breaking? I am not up on my science terminology, having left all that behind during my years pursuing various degrees of the soft sciences, but I have no other word for it. Simply put, it seemed as though there was no earthly way all that rich, complex sound could have come from one man, let alone one instrument. Let's pause a moment here and all hail the baritone acoustic built by L.A. juvenile delinquents. Seriously. Please do it. Dave and I would be less complete without those yutes.

So that whole experience led to my realization that I appreciate a big sound from a small appearance, which led to this week's post. Reverend Peyton and His Big Damn Band is comprised of Rev Peyton on guitar, his wife Breezy on the washboard, and his brother on the drums. The sound, though, is twice as big. Apparently Rev Payton has gotten some flack for his big sound to the tune of accusations that he has a recorded bass line going during live performances, and as a result during shows he makes it a point to show how he plays the bass line with just his pinky and the guitar with the rest of his hand. Heartfelt confession here: I can't play guitar. Or bass. The idea of playing both at once...mind blown. That may be juvenile, ignorant, basic, whatever, but it's true. I am in awe of this guy. And this band. So much sound, so few people. However, at least they have three...

The O's are a duo out of Texas who unfortunately don't travel much further than Oklahoma. So, sorry guys, no live shows pending within reach. But by some stroke of luck we got to see them in Newport, KY (as a hand-picked opener for our beloved 500 Miles to Memphis). They are a duo. Two guys. With an acoustic, a banjo, a kick-drum, a dobro, a tambourine, and a harmonica. And both do vocals. Here's a big sound for a different reason - these guys are continually killing themselves. I told them they should change their name to Two One-Legged Men in an Ass-kicking Contest, but apparently they jettisoned their sense of humor in favor of more instruments. 

This post is really about these bands, and how much sound they can accomplish with so little, albeit in so many different ways. I chose the two Rev Peyton songs because their sound is so hard to conceptualize, and even harder over youtube, and I thought between these two picks everyone would have a good idea whether this was something they were into. I chose The O's' song (where does the apostrophe go????) because it is representative of their sound, and catchy, and I hope someone can definitively tell me the chorus lyrics. "We hope, we shape, we loathe"? "Revoke, reshape reload"? The difference seems crucial.

Week 21

Cake, Short Skirt/Long Jacket

Cake has a unique sound, but it is a specific sound, sometimes stopping just short of formulaic, and this song is no exception. So why pick it? Well, the timing is pretty cool, even by Cake standards. And the patented Cake awkwardness is minimized, which I prefer (except in Sad Songs and Waltzes, which is kind of the point of the song). But mostly, this is a man singing about wanting a strong woman. It is a song about a woman who is a force to be reckoned with. This chick is freaking amazing. She is a worthy role model for all women. Fellow females (of which there is exactly one on this blog - Gary B., can you PLEASE convince Marjie to join in now and then) let's don our short skirts and long jackets and forego the sexist pantyhose. I will aim for having a mind like a diamond; I have always wanted to be fast, and thorough, and sharp as a tack; I would love to wield a machete to cut through red tape; and who doesn't want fingernails that shine like justice?! But...this song is a dude's list about his requirements. It is a shopping list for a woman. Essentially, he is creating his own version of a Stepford wife...who just happens to be powerful instead of yielding. Does the latter cancel out the former? Does it make it all politically correct? I am not entirely sure. But I do know that, right or wrong, I still want to be that girl. 

Week 22

Andrew Duhon, Gonna Take a Little Rain and Sidestep Your Grave

Yes, another two-fer, but it's worth it, I promise. I am not an Andrew Duhon fan, exactly, but I like his stuff and I love these two songs. And I can't talk about one without the other, because one is yin and one is yang. One is soft and soothing, and one is grinding and, perhaps not quite galvanizing, but close. One is a hard night of knocking back whiskey and hustling pool, and the other is a glass of wine on your porch on a pleasant evening. But a life without either one of these things is a life I'm not particularly interested in (ok, the hustling pool is just a fantasy), and taken together these songs, in both music and lyrics, do a pretty good job of summing up what if feels like to be alive. And in the end, stripped down, they both have the same message: good things can turn bad, and bad things can turn good. Just keep on going until you find what fits.

Week 23

As foretold, this was inspired by the recent discussion about your most awesome venue 

Against Me!, Sink Florida Sink

Nate and I first went to see Against Me! (the exclamation point is both telegraphed and gratuitous) because I was obsessed with exactly one of their songs: the most recent single release that I heard on the radio. Yup, I was that girl. The song was Thrash Unreal, and it was about the life of an addict. Don't worry, I won't subject everyone to that kind of post again. Its a decent song, though, and you guys should check it out. Anyway, we almost didn't go, because the show started at10 p.m. on a school night, and although this was years ago and we were younger and stupider than we are now, we still had jobs, and responsibilities, and a propensity toward hangovers. But this was way early on in our relationship, and neither wanted to admit to the other that we couldn't hang, so we went. Freaking amazing show. It was quickly apparent to us that (and this is, of course, not unusual) the song getting all the radio play was far from their best. Our favorite was my pick for this week, Sink Florida Sink. We rushed home to download the album version and it left us wanting. We found a live version and felt fulfilled. The lyrics are open to interpretation, obviously about a relationship ending, but I wont pretend to understand the specifics. The chorus contains...not quite a Millennial whoop (thank you Cyndi, for that amazing phrase!), but more of a...Gen Xer lament? We Gen Xers are not as into the drama as the Millennials, much more "...woe is me..." than "OMG!!!!!" Also, I love the lines:

you will see what is wrong with everything
what is wrong with you and me
they make all the right reasons to fuck it up
you're gonna fuck it up

I am such a sucker for well-placed profanity. Beyond that, my insight is lacking, but it's catchy and fun and has a bit of an edge.

Week 24

Langhorne Slim, "Yup, a whole artist." (Tavares, Miranda, email to Scudder, Gary 30/09/2016)

I'm writing this on my phone, which, when using email, contains no spell check or predictive text to compensate for my ignorance and fat fingers. I like to live dangerously.

This week's pick is Langhorne Slim, with or without the Law. Yup, a whole artist. Not two or three songs, but all the songs. I've always been one to test limits, just ask my poor mother.  It seems to me that Langhorne Slim is so unknown and vastly underrated, so I'll attempt to gain him a fan or two.

His vocals are the main draw for me. In a time when indie rock tends toward plaintive, often whiny, Langhorne Slim kicks it up a notch or ten to wild desperation. On his slower songs he lowers it a bit to quiet agony. He sounds ragged, haggard and soulful, and it's so damn hard to resist. He also uses a piano. I love a good piano as much as i love horns. Not quite sure the Law member who plays piano (yes, I'm writing about a band i know nothing about, other than I've seen them twice and listen to their entire catalogue weekly) counts as good piano, but mediocre piano is better than no piano at all. Pretty sure that's in the Bible, sounds like something Mary Magdalene would say.

Although I wish I could literally write about all the songs (his lack of filler is astounding), I suppose I'll just highlight a couple so you all don't skip over this whole damn post. The Way We Move is my favorite. It's just so damn catchy. I'm not sure about the meaning, exactly, but the lyrics are pretty one size fits all. I like to think it's about being yourself, through good times and bad. The best lyric is, "All my friends have crooked tails/but that's the way i like it, that's the company I keep." All my friends do have crooked tails. Tails that have been slammed in doors, run over by cars, struck by lightening. Some were just born crooked. Can't be close friends with someone without appreciating their hardships. LoveCrimes also deserves mention. It's best lyric: "You know my name, girl/You've moaned it before." The woo-hoos are pleasant and catchy, as well. And if you are depressed and regressing while reconsidering a relationship, put down the razor blade and put Coffee Cups on repeat. Slim's voice will do your cutting for you. Want to be saved? Throw on "The Spirit Moves." It's salvation with horns, as the Bible intended. At a crossroads? "Changes" is for you. Need a break from reading this ridiculously long post? Try "Fire."

Week 25

[editor's note - thematic week: best use of song in a movie or TV series]

Dirty Dancing, Cry to Me

I was embarrassingly young when this movie was released, but not too young to appreciate the wonder that was a shirtless Patrick Swayze. I now find the movie trite and outdated, but at the time the soundtrack influenced me tremendously. I credit my love of oldies to this movie. 

Compared to nowadays, when you can see all kinds of stuff on prime time, and cable leaves little to the imagination, the scenes in Dirty Dancing are not so much "dirty" and more "vaguely in need of a wipe-down". But as a pre-teen, the sex scenes in the movie were powerfully erotic. To this day, nothing gets my motor running like a shapely pair of arms and shoulders, and I am certain this scene is the cause of it. Cry to Me is the perfect accompaniment. The song is not at all dirty (but oh that beat, that is a little dirty, it just hits you in all the right places), but it is emotional, and longing, and intense, and when combined with a vulnerable, naive girl and a boy from the wrong side of the tracks and some nice skin on both sides, it creates a raw, sensual, impassioned moment that anyone can identify with. Well, I would hope, for your sake. If not, you just keep watching on repeat while I go take a cold shower.

Miranda and Nate Running Amuck

Songs from movies that we couldn’t bear not to talk about (these are ranked in no particular order, and certainly this is not an exhaustive list, I.e., yes, we had more)

After the Sunset, “Pineapple Wine” - yeah, this has been done before, but it’s still worth another mention. It’s the equivalent of Salma Hayek in a gold bikini

EuroTrip,  “Scottie Doesn’t Know” - Matt Damon does a fantastic cameo in a fun but mediocre movie with an embarrassingly catchy song

Airheads, “Born to Raise Hell” - an homage to all the mindless hair metal songs in a movie about mindless hair metal musicians. And it’s Lemmy, for God’s sake.  Let him put some boogie in your ear.

American Psycho, “Hip to be Square” - The main character’s rant is genius, and the use of this song about conforming to societal norms while being an actual axe murderer is a disgusting yet delicious use of irony.American Werewolf in London - The whole goddamn soundtrack (no youtube link available due to content). All the songs were cleverly worked, and have a wolf or moon theme. Moondance was especially well-played for the sex scene. The whole soundtrack gave the movie a lighter, jaunty, comedic feel. 

Say Anything,  “In Your Eyes” - This song needs no discussion (but I‘ll do it anyway). It is the epitome of romance in the ‘80’s, Lloyd Dobler in the rain holding a boom box. Dedication, devotion, turning all the night time into the day. Oh wait, that’s Dire Straits lyrics. Still, they apply. I will wait, I will wait for you. Oh, that’s Mumford and Sons. See, it’s timeless!  A man waiting on a woman, or, to be more current, a lover waiting on a lover, never gets old. Please play this scene for your grandkids (the link is a montage, so for your grandkids' sake you can skip to the 2:30 minute mark). 

Thomas Crown Affair, “Sinner man” - So, there is a chance this song might have been written for the scene. It certainly sounds like it. And we didn’t research it. So if it was, throw it right out. But if not, holy f*@k, what an amazing fit. Cued perfectly for the main heist scene, it captures the frantic confusion of the scene on screen in a way that draws you in and makes you a player. 

Color of Money, “It’s in the Way that You Use It” - This is another song that needs little commentary. The big guy (Clapton/Newman) schooling the little guy on how it’s done. I (and this is Miranda speaking here) was young but I thought it was abundantly clear that the old guy was the one to fawn over. To this day I still can’t run a table without this song playing. (I can’t run a table with this song playing, either, but I enjoy the brief delusion it provides) 

Cradle to the Grave , DMX  - Not a great movie, not great acting, but X Go’n Give it to Ya expertly captures the violence and the fighting scenes (So much that Deadpool stole it for parody effect)

Idle wild - With “PJ and Rooster”, Outkast flawlessly reinvents a Prohibition era juke-joint sound with a hip hop edge.  Just excellent.

Justified  - Nothing captures the grit, dirt and twang of the series like Ganstagrass’ “Long Hard Time to Come”--it effortlessly conveys the mix of rural crime mixed with the grime of urban streets.  I have written about the commonality between the rural country poor and the ‘hood poor before, but both the show and this theme song blend them seamlessly.

Last of the Mohicans, “The Gael” - The final fight scene in Last of the Mohicans is set to this traditional instrumental.  It evokes the desperation of the chase as well as the raw dance-like beauty of the final, skillful, deadly confrontations

Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels - This entire movie and soundtrack was expertly composed.  Each song is clearly hand-picked to provide character depth, narration, and/or function as a tonal overview or segue/scene change.  Just truly well done.

Lost Boys - For children of the late 80’s “I Still Believe and “Cry Little Sister” appeal to the growing trend at that time of a pseudo-goth, semi-emo, self-involved emotionality that thrums in these 2 tunes.  Young pre-teens belted their hearts out singing to these tunes while imagining themselves to be as cool as Jason Patrick, young Keifer Sutherland, or Jami Gertz

Reservoir Dogs, “Stuck in the Middle with You” - The ear-cutting scene would not be the same without the artful, playful, sociopathy set to this song.  We cannot hear the song without cringing to the thought of Michael Madsen carving up a doomed bound cop.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith, “Mondo Bongo” - If you follow the tabloids, this movie, and this scene in particular, is when these two actors fell in love. Current news notwithstanding, this is still an incredibly erotic song in a movie about two spouses literally fighting each other the whole way out. Play this in your head on those special nights. 

Office Space, “Damn it Feels Good to be a Gangsta” - Shows the fantasy and reality of every short-sleeved , buttoned-down office worker. Because Goddamn it feels good to be an gangsta. And fuck that printer. 

Reality Bites , “All I Want is You”  - Miranda here, and this one’s all mine. Almost wrote my post on this one. Have you seen this movie?! It’s only ok, in the long run, but there are some amazing parts. Most awesome of which is when The Girl realizes she is in love with The Guy and chases after him, only to find he only left her because his father was dying (seriously, it’s at least ok, not too predictable or trite despite the above summation) and they reunite, after mutual hardships, over this song.  If my husband had proposed to me (and he didn’t, because we are tragically practical) this is what would have been playing in the background. (And yes, in the linked clip, that is Eddie Vedder in the band in the bar scene).

O Brother Where Art Thou, “Man of Constant Sorrow“- The entire journey of the movie is encompassed by the tribulations of the man of constant sorrow--never mind that most of the sorrow is self-inflicted.  The song was custom designed to capture the morose feel of the ne’er do well hero.

The Punisher, “In Time”--This selection was written to be the theme song---however, it both adds and transcends the comic book subject material.  It brings home the idea that Frank Castle has truly “come back from the dead” to pursue his nihilistic vendetta no matter the cost to his body, or to his moral center.  The song is great in its own right, BTW, give it a listen.

Firefly, “You can’t take the sky from me” - Again, a theme song, but it still makes the list. Joss Whedon Himself wrote this for Firefly.  “Take my love, take my land, take me where I cannot stand, I don’t care, I’m still free--you can’t take the sky from me”.  Impeccable C/W influenced styling for the story of a man who has lost everything, and takes refuge, literally, by taking to the sky (to be a space pirate).  Great song for a great show.  BEST EVER

Stranger Than Fiction, “Whole Wide World“ --One of the best example’s of character development. Ferrell’s character is boring and predictable, following rules for rule’s sake, but as his life edges closer to possible end he loosens up in an amazing but still believable way. This song, this scene, symbolizes the whole movie. I would have never guessed that, if you have to learn to play a single song on the guitar, this is the one to pick, but it’s obviously true. 

Cold Mountain--Jack White interprets folks songs correct for the time period with passion and grace.  “Wayfaring Stranger” and “Sittin’ on Top of the World” are especially well done.  Jack plays in the movie himself as a character and pulls off the music and the role with aplomb

Labyrinth, “Dance Magic, Dance“ - Here we see David Bowie as never before, fully engaged yet playful, endearing and lightearted--with muppets and an honest-to-god baby.  It is fun, light, and rife with caprice.  Despite the Wardrobe department’s unfortunate choice in Mr. Bowie’s trousers, it makes him accessible, cuddly and a good fit in a children’s movie.

Donnie Darko, “Mad World“ - the sorrowful, plaintive tune captures the essence of the theme effortlessly.  A young man who does not understand much happening in the world around him, only that it demands that he depart from it, for the sake of others, sad, profound and depressing.  Excellent fit.

Light of Day, “Light of Day” - Not sure I’m qualified to comment too much on this. It has been years since I have seen the movie, and any memories I might have had have been overwritten by The Boss lighting up the crowd and everyone belting this out together. But I remember liking the movie, and liking the song because of the movie. 

Eyes Wide Shut, “Baby Did a Bad, Bad Thing” - Creepy, painful, disturbing.  Chris Isaac plays the song that underpins the central idea of the movie, a bad act that fragments and rots a relationship.  Paranoia, obsession over misdeeds unseen, and the longing over a relationship lost beyond repair.  This uncomfortable squirm of a movie would not be the same without this song.

Hamlet 2, “Rock Me Sexy Jesus” and “Someone Saved My Life Tonight” - “Rock Me Sexy Jesus” was written for the movie, of course, but it’s pretty amazing. And the choir’s affirming version of “Someone Saved My Life Tonight” gives me chills, despite the satire and surrealness of the whole movie. 

Forrest Gump, “Fortunate Son” - yeah, a song about Vietnam used in a scene about Vietnam, doesn‘t exactly require a high IQ to figure out that‘s a good fit. But it’s part of the reason the movie won a billion awards. The timing in the movie is just perfect, the strong guitar with the strong scene change. I knew and loved the song before the movie, but now, 20 years later, I can’t hear the opening chords without seeing the Vietnam countryscape from a helicopter. They just go together like peas and carrots. 

The Full Monty, “You Can Leave Your Hat On” - I like the Hot Chocolate song they used in the movie better, but I will give credit where credit is due. This one is a better fit. And I love a good horn, with or without a hat.

Top Gun, “Danger zone “ - like it or not, this song is iconic. Raringly ‘80’s, you can feel your testosterone levels rise and your hands search around for a pair of aviator sunglasses. Despite its recent recurrence in Archer, it will always first conjure up images of Goose and Maverick kicking ass while inverted. 

Wayne’s World, “Bohemian Rhapsody” - there is a reason it is totally culturally acceptable to sing the…bridge? What is the musical name for this part of the song? in public. And why, if you do, you will not be surprised when others join in. And why you knew exactly what part I was referring to even if bridge is the wrong term. We’re not worthy, but this scene is. 


Young Einstein , “Rock ‘n’ Roll Music” - Einstein invents rock n roll and then uses it to save the world. Cheesy and cheap, but it resonates. Frank Turner says it best  - “who’d’ve thought, after all, something as simple as rock and roll would save us all” - but Young Einstein, through the father of rock and roll himself, said it first. Never has a near-miss nuclear blast sounded so good. 

Closer, “The Blower’s Daughter” - Heard throughout the movie, specific lines picked depending on the scene, slowed down or sped up to indicate agonizing loss or mere resignation, the movie would have been totally different without this song. And I would have never listened twice to this song without the movie. Heaven, of a certain variety. 

Scrooged, “Put a Little Love in Your Heart” - the end scene, after his heart has grown three sizes and the USPS has proved there is a Santa Claus and Clark figures out how electricity works. I’m mixing up my classics, but this scene moves me more than all of those put together. Been watching it every year since it came out and I still get teary eyed. God bless us, everyone. 

An Officer and a Gentleman, “Up Where We Belong” - not a fan of the song or the movie, but even we recognize its significance. 

Rocky, “Eye of the Tiger” - Do we really need to say anything here? Pretty sure Rocky runs the steps in time to this song. Yes it was written for the movie, but not as a score or for a particular scene, just in the same way the theme songs for the Bond movies are written. Except way, way better. 

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, “Oh Yeah” -  So culturally significant that one of our favorite beers is named Chickow, after the only other vocals in this song. Brilliantly used slow motion as Ferris runs through the yards mirrors the song’s relaxed yet dramatic tone. 

Beverly Hills Cop, “Axel F” - this may be the original ear worm.  The instrumental musical was the overlay for the gritty urban detective’s moves--cagey, hip (For the time period) and street-wise.  I’ll bet you can hear it now and see Eddie Murphy back when he could pull off being a badass

7, “Heart’s Filthy Lesson“ - the discordant, jarring tones of this theme mirror the twisted mindscape of the 7 deadly sins killer.  Give it a listen and you can almost feel yourself spiraling into insanity yourself.

Almost Famous, “Tiny Dancer” - that scene on the bus, where they’re all mad at each other but can’t help singing along and then everything’s ok. Music heals, people. Music heals people. 

Silence of the Lambs, “Goodbye Horses” - you can’t have one without the other, and some lotion. (This was the only clip we could get without signing in to prove our age, so you are all spared the image of Buffalo Bill tucking it back. You're welcome)

Week 26

Battlestar America, Out There Laughing

I'm not gonna beat around the bush. Pun intended. The pun, of course, relates to our presidential candidate joking about sexually assaulting women. I'm not upset about his use of the word "pussy," because it's just a word, but sexual assault is never funny, and I'm pretty much in a rage about Trump's lightheartedness in speaking about violating someone like that. And I was in a rage about his supporters. I know Hillary got some flack about calling them a basket of deplorables, but certainly half of their comments about the admitted sexual assaults proved Hillary correct. To quote one such eloquent, sensitive soul, "Hell, so what? I want to grab some pussy!" 

I am horrified at my fellow American citizens. I don't understand how we have become so divided. Some people I thought I knew are now strangers. I see ugliness in so many familiar, even loved, faces. I am at a loss as to how a decent human being can support such a large, steaming pile of regurgitated cheetos. So I have taken the past couple of days to chill, to listen to more music and less news media, and I discovered solace in Chris Knight (yes, I know I didn't pick Chris Knight; I'll get there eventually, I promise). 

Chris Knight paints pictures of the part of America that I have kind of skipped over. I live in an urban area, and I see poverty all around me, but most of that poverty is related to race. Not that it's all about race by any means, but it's a pretty obvious factor. I have traveled to more rural areas, and my former job had me visiting these rural residents in their homes, but I have not lived there (for years and years, anyway), and I am not a part of their culture. There are certain things I take for granted that they have never been exposed to, and of course the reverse is also true. And although the Trump supporters are not limited to these areas, they are certainly concentrated there, and now I think I finally get it. These are people who struggle like anyone else. They just want to feed their families. They are making it, but every day is a close call, and one extra hardship could destroy the whole precarious card house. They are scared, and desperate, and vulnerable. And they look out for number one. Not because they are selfish and uncaring, but because there's only so much looking out they can do, and family comes first, and once they've got the family all set there's just nothing left. They've seen family farms get foreclosed, factories and mines where 2, 3, 4 generations have worked close down, historic local businesses go under. They've learned to live for today, and not to trust in the future. And they've damn sure learned not to trust the politicians. The politicians who bailed out the banks that foreclosed on the farms, the people who made the tax laws and trade deals to allow the factories go away, who made the environmental laws to make the mines close - these politicians, regardless of their good intentions for the future, took food out of families' mouths today. They know the politicians suck. Just like a bunch of dum dum lolipops, they may be different colors, they may claim different flavors, but they all taste the same. So, obviously, anyone but them. Because at least ferret-wearing, daughter-lusting, openly bigoted, poorly-tossed word salad is a flavor they haven't tried before. 

Out There Laughing is actually a pretty communist song, and the people I have just spend the last 18 pages discussing would boo me and throw PBR for saying this, but the similarities are pretty amazing. "Someone sent our jobs to kids in Singapore, and bought control of the guys you voted for." The basic message is, whoever you are, you're probably getting screwed. (Of course, it proposes to fix this by ending the free market, but we'll stick a pin in that for now). I feel like this song is unifying in it's rejection of the current state of affairs. Because the one thing we can all agree on is we're not happy with the way things are.

Week 28

I had thought I'd take another week off because A) Cleveland is in the World Series and B) I feel like I have been tending toward dark. But, A) It is an hour before 8:08 p.m. and I have completed my woefully small list of goals for the day,  and B) Looks like I'll fit right it. 

Tracy Chapman, Fast Car

As a kid I loved this song. I liked the idea of riding in a fast car and feeling liked I belonged. I paid little attention to the verses, despite knowing all of the words and singing along. The music is simple yet rich, and it resonates. It is a great song, musically - catchy and moving at the same time. You don't have to study it to enjoy it. 

As I got older and paid more attention to the lyrics, it bothered me a bit. I certainly could understand feeling stuck, and I had seen people who could not scrape ten dollars together no matter how hard they tried. I have a father who lives in the pipe, that's the way it is, and his body is too old for working, and while I have never seriously considered dropping out of my life to care for him, I know others who would think differently. The verses all rang true. However, I took issue with the  ultimatum in the chorus: "We either leave tonight or live and die this way." 

Life is rarely as dramatic as art. In movies and novels and songs there is often a distinct turning point, a discernible moment when a person comes to a fork in the road, one way leading toward selfishness, destruction, evil, sadness, hopelessness, etc., and one way leading toward happiness, or at least contentment. But in life those moments rarely happen. We are often faced with a multitude of choices, and the black/white/good/bad nature of them is often murky. Also, the paths join and diverge at multiple points, and the paths are not one way, so we have the ability to correct any wrong turns. Choosing the correct path at a given moment may make things easier than attempting to choose it further on down the road, but we have the ability to fix our mistakes. We may choose not to fix them, we may decide fixing them is too much work for too little pay off, but we do have that choice. Most decisions in life are not now or never. 

As I got even older, I was, thankfully, able to quit being so damn smug. Perhaps the decision that Chapman's describing in the song is not truly now or never, but it certainly feels that way to her. And choices are an individual kind of thing. It doesn't matter if there are two paths to choose from if you can only see one. It doesn't matter if the paths rejoin at some point down the road if you can't see the future. An individual's reality is based on her perception, and if she is not permitted to see her options, if she is blinded by her family, culture, media, society, physical location, the existence of extra road blocks due to poverty, gender, skin color, age, those options simply do not exist in her mind. 

Reality is a tricky thing. It's not the same for everyone. But part of living in a society is helping shine a light on those realities that are darker than yours. If someone believes they have no options, or only two options, and I can see six or seven available paths for them to follow, it is my duty to help them realize their choices. If a desirable path has a roadblock, it is my duty to help them realize the roadblock is not as big as it seems. If I can help move the roadblock, I should. This is why I am happy to pay taxes, to vote for levys, to donate to charity - I don't want someone to make a poor choice and wind up miserable simply because they could not see the other paths before them. 

I am now in that boat. I see only two paths, and one is swampy and brambly and threatens quick sand, and the other leads off a cliff. I wish someone would light my way. Show me the options, show me the other choices.  Otherwise I fear I may get a fast car and keep on driving.

Week 29

Taking a page out of Cyndi's book and keeping it light this week :) 

George Michael, Freedom

I was watching It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, which, in case you haven't seen it, is a show about terrible people doing terrible things...terribly. So the gang does a terrible dance routine for confusing "reasons," and the routine is to George Michael's Freedom, which I haven't heard in some years. And it struck me, juxtaposed against the sad, desperate and misguided characters in the show: this is a pretty great song. Due to its performing artist the tune has kind of a bad rep, because, Wham!, but it really is a solid piece of work. It may not have a guitar lick or drum beat that reaches out and grabs you, but I've always thought that's what distinguishes pop from other genres (and why I've never been a huge fan of the genre): nothing is distinguishable, everything melds, and you meld with the song, too. Unlike many pop songs, Freedom doesn't have an overpowering snare or tinnitus-inducing synthesizer, and it's before autotune came along and jacked everything up. I'm not going to pretend the lyrics are incredibly insightful or meaningful ("Because you don't belong to me/and I don't belong to you;" yes, that is pretty much the definition of the word that is the song's title) but it has a good beat and you can dance to it. Or at least nod your head to it. 

Week 30

I had the unfortunate luck to read Nate's post before I wrote mine, and, sadly, but not uncommonly, I cannot compete. But I have had this song making a frequent appearance in my head the past few days, and I feel compelled to share my thoughts with friends. 

Live - The Beauty of Gray

On it's face, this song is about race. I mean, it's obvious, right? There's an explicit reference to color. But it's not. It's about the difference between you and anyone that shares the opposite belief or ideology. 

We have certainly come face to face with those that share our opposite viewpoint. I have struggled these last few days with how my fellow human beings could sign up for such an abominable future. I have read, I have soul-searched, I have cried, I have ruminated, I have contacted relatives in Canada about moving in with them. None of this is hyperbole, and most of this is not about how I expect my way of life to suffer as a result of recent developments (although I think it will). My issue, the one that leaves me curled up in a ball on the couch, nauseous, unshowered, both hungering for and fearing socialization (both real and virtual), is feeling completely disconnected from half of the people surrounding me. 

I do not understand why so many voted for what, to me, is clearly a bigoted, misogynistic, power-hungry, irresponsible liar. I may never understand that. To me, the choice was crystal clear. However, as right as I am sure I am, the people with the opposing viewpoint are just as sure they are right. They don't understand my position anymore than I understand theirs. And, sure, some of the votes came from straight-up racists, bigots, and misogynists. There's no doubting that. But there's just no way that all of those in favor are like that. We could not have made the progressive strides forward in this country if that were so. Also, I just straight-up refuse to believe that. 

So where does that leave us? I am sure I am right; nothing will change my mind. Those opposite are sure they are right; nothing will change their minds. Who is actually right? What is the truth? Well, I have been a lawyer for some time now, and, having spent hundreds of mind-numbing hours listening to opposing testimony, one of the most important and elemental things I have learned from said miserable experience is this: the truth is somewhere in the middle. 

I hate this idea. It grinds against every bone in my body. But it does seem more feasible than the idea that half the country has gone batshit crazy. So, I am black. Those opposite are white. The truth, the right choice, the correct path, is...gray.

Week 31

Bruce Springsteen, Better Days

I had thought, at the inception of this blog, that I would never write about a Springsteen song. I thought (and still do think!) that I could do none of his songs justice, and this feeling was bolstered by DK's fantastic Bruce post a couple months ago. However, things have changed, and this song has been on my mind recently, and, as usual, I feel compelled to share. Thank you all for listening. Or at least pretending to. 

I have always felt this is one of Bruce's most underrated songs. There are plenty better, don't get me wrong, but this one captures the feeling Bruce is always seeking: the average person, trying to make his way, screwing it up and then trying it again. The first verse is amazing:

Well my soul checked out missing as I sat listening
To the hours and minutes tickin' away
Yeah just sittin' around waitin' for my life to begin
While it was all just slippin' away
I'm tired of waitin' for tomorrow to come
Or that train to come roarin' 'round the bend
I got a new suit of clothes a pretty red rose
And a woman I can call my friend

And I hate to be melodramatic, and to beat a dead horse, but let's tie this in to recent events. There is a giant world out there, and no one should ignore it. But no one should ignore the life right in front of her, either. No reason to wait around for tomorrow to come, no reason to sit around waiting for the world to end. Regardless of other events, I have myself, and my home, and a man I can call my friend. There are so, so many who have it far worse. In fact, I was one of those people less than a decade ago. In spite of recent events, compared to points in the past, these are better days. 

And let's not ignore the last verse, either:

Now a life of leisure and a pirate's treasure
Don't make much for tragedy
But it's a sad man my friend who's livin' in his own skin
And can't stand the company
Every fool's got a reason for feelin' sorry for himself
And turning his heart to stone
Tonight this fool's halfway to heaven and just a mile outta hell
And I feel like I'm comin' home

I included the first four lines because, goddamn, those are great lines. Even a rich man gets the blues...perhaps more than some. But let's focus on the end of the verse. I love this. If I could make my own religion, it's entire premise would be in the last two lines of this verse. The distance between heaven and hell is shockingly small. And I don't mean in one's soul, although that's true, too. I mean in one's feeling about life on earth. One day you are on top of the world, the next day you are crying at commercials and eating peanuts off your living room floor...and you haven't even bought peanuts for a year or so. But that means the reverse is true. One day you realize you haven't changed your underwear for a week, the next day you're freshly showered and out engaging in actual socialization. The reality is, most of our time, regardless of amazing or horrifying circumstances, is spent somewhere between heaven and hell. Strive for heaven. Please. Our future as a species depends on it. But don't fear hell, either. It's a part of life. You will head toward it, you will get uncomfortably near it. But have no fear, and have faith that you will reverse your course. Your future as a person depends on it. 

Week 32

Man, I'm tapped. Not much left to say at this point. But this one jumps out...

Geto Boys, Damn it feels good to be a gangsta

So, Nate and I included this on our masturbatorily ginormous songs-in-a-movie post. But I'm including it again...

Because it got unnecessarily lost in a post of 40 songs;

Because the meaning is so much more than beating up that motherfucking, cocksucking printer;

Because it has a good beat and you can dance to it;

Because it's nice to feel in control;

Because some of these lyrics are, or should be, gospel ("A real gangsta-ass nigga never runs his fucking mouth/Cause real gangsta-ass niggas don't start fights");

Because some of these lyrics are true, but shouldn't be("Real gangsta-ass niggas don't talk much/All ya hear is the black from the gun blast")

Because that last verse, holy shit, it's either prophetic or we've made no progress ("Other leaders better not upset me/Or I'll send a million troops to die at war")

Because...when the shit jumps off what the fuck you gonna do. 

Week 33

[editor's note - thematic week: best holiday songs]

Happy Music Blog Day, everyone, and welcome back, Mike and Gary! I admit to scanning today's post to know ahead of time whether I was duplicating someone's pick, but I have not actually read anything yet, so I will sing praises (and complete the additional assignment) later today. 

-MT

Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, Merry Christmas Baby

I've known what song I was going to do this week even before I knew the theme. Although I am a fan of most of Jesus's teachings and try to adhere to them, I am a confirmed agnostic. Therefore I do not celebrate the birth of the son of God. But I love Christmas. Love it. It is truly my favorite time of year. I cannot come up with any words that explain it better than those of the immortal Frank Cross: It's the time of the year when we all act a little nicer, we smile a little easier. We cheer a little more.  For a couple of hours out of the whole year, we are the people that we always hoped we would be. 

Christmas is often referred to as the Season of Giving, and I find that description pretty apt. Life gets in the way, and often we focus on the day-to-day aspects of living: what to make for dinner, how to handle a problem at work, whether to broach a concern with a friend or family member. Even after factoring in our regular charitable donations and random acts of kindness, our focus is largely on ourselves. Christmas reminds us to focus on others' needs for a while. Maybe we don't quite put others' needs above our own, but we at least raise them up to be even. And we love it! It feels fulfilling! It gives us purpose, and satisfaction, and we walk around afterwards smiling and patting ourselves on our backs. Christmas reminds us that helping others feel good makes us feel good. We're built for it. When times get bleak, the one thing that keeps my hope afloat for the human race is that we are hard wired to get off on helping each other. As much as being a total dick can feel good (and oh, it can feel so good. Phrasing?), helping someone feels even better, and that feeling lasts longer. All the bad things that happen in the world can be attributed to people forgetting that simple, integral fact. Christmas is an annual reminder: Be excellent to each other, for you, in turn, will feel excellent. 

So why pick this song, which touches not at all on everything I've just rambled on about? Because this song is the above-described pat on the back. This song encompasses why so many people are fans of this Season of Giving. Baby was nice, Baby took good care of him, and now he is elated. And he's sharing it with the world. And I have no doubt that, as a result, Baby is grinning from ear to ear, heart swollen larger than the Grinch's in the last act. 

I like this version out of the oh so many for a litany of reasons. It's Bruce, it features Clarence as the music on the radio. But mostly because it's the first version of this song that I ever heard, and even as a kid, vaguely believing in Santa and wholly oblivious to the darker side of what life could offer, the happiness in this song struck a chord in me. I've listened to about ten other versions, but none come close to blaring true bliss like the E Street Band.

Merry Christmas, all. You elate me every Saturday morning. You are the music on my radio. 

Week 35

Christmas in the room, Sufjan Stevens

I love this song. It's not at all my normal taste, but, as I have previously stated, I love all kinds of Christmas music (I love Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas time, remember?). At first, I thought this was just a simple song about two people enjoying Christmas together without all the accoutrements. I rushed home to tell Nate (we have a giant, 6 gig Christmas list that I listen to largely at work, so I hear more of it than he does) how I found this great song that summed up how I felt about Christmas. Then one day I was feeling a bit more melancholy, and I went home and told Nate, "Hey remember that great Christmas song I told you about? Well, now I'm pretty sure it's one partner singing it to the other partner on that partner's deathbed." So it took some of the enjoyment out of it for me (after all, I had such positive, heartwarming, simplistic, "all we need is us" feelings about it), but I still really liked it. I had to google the lyrics for it to post about it, and it turns out...it's whatever you want it to be. Sure, maybe it's one partner singing to another in a hospital room on what is sure to be their last Christmas together as mortal beings. Or maybe both of them lost the rest of their family, and they didn't have the heart to do the traditional Christmas festivities, but they still find a way to celebrate. Or maybe they are just eschewing the commercial trappings of the season and focusing on each other. It doesn't matter. Christmas is whatever you want it to be. Find what you love, what makes you happy, what you live for, and focus on that. Christmas is there with you, in your room. What you choose to put in that room is up to you. 

Week 37

Flogging Molly, Whistles the Wind

Well, it's the end of the year, and we're all looking back before we look forward. This song has so many layers it can mean anything you want (pretty sure it's about David King's virtual exile from Ireland after he had some issues with his VISA, but he was nice enough to put things in soft focus so that it could still strike a chord with some of us less worldly, more...well, boring folk). I love the lyrics, and there are particular lines that jump out at me depending on my mood, but what I really love is the music. 

Flogging Molly generally rocks a little (or a lot) harder than this, which I usually prefer, but this song is just beautiful. I can't even begin to pick out how many and what types of instruments are involved in weaving this tapestry (hey, I do humor and sarcasm; when it comes to describing beauty, I'm forced to rely on cliches). I fully admit that my utter lack of musical talent extends to being unable to recognize basic instruments (I can pick out the drums! And the vocals!), but, in this case, I'm fairly certain I'm not the only one struggling. All of the melodies in this song meld so seamlessly into each other that the finished product feels solid, almost three dimensional. I do know that I hear an accordion, and, no disrespect to Weird Al or Tim Brennan, but I would never have expected to describe accordion music as beautiful. So, fist bump for that. 

The song stops short of haunting, and I like that, too. It feels more accessible that way, more like a sturdy friend's arm around your shoulder than a hazy spectre's finger beckoning you from afar. It doesn't feel depressing, either, despite the lyrics. The richness of the music keeps the whole from sounding lonely and abandoned. Whether you take the lyrics as mourning the loss of your love, or your country, or yourself (it is the end of the year, after all; are you who you want to be?) you are assured that you are not the only one feeling these things. You have a veritable symphony letting you know that we've all been there. 

Week 38

Jason Isbell, Hurricanes and Hand Grenades

I know we've probably beaten Jason Isbell into the ground on this blog, but I'm taking a page out of Scudder's book and writing what I'm currently listening to. And I am currently obsessed with this song. That slow, jazzy/bluesy combo, the lyrics sung in a vocal style that's too lazy and languid to be actually depressing, the lounge piano in the background with that kick ass blues guitar lick giving you the shivers for a moment...before you take another sip of whiskey and go back to staring at the embers of the fire you don't care enough about to stoke. I get that this song is basically romanticizing alcoholism, but it does it really, really convincingly. However, I would give up a beer for hearing that piano any day.