It's been a pretty brutal couple weeks for our dear friends and Discography veterans Kathy and Phil Seiler so they're sitting out this week and I suspect the next few. I often cringe when someone says thoughts and prayers because in today's world it often reeks of insincerity, but in this case I know that we all sincerely pass along our best wishes to them. We're a tight knit crew here and if KS and PS need anything at all we'll be there.
On a lighter note I was thinking about our collective friendship last night when the esteemed Kevin Andrews and I went to the They Might Be Giants show here in Burlington. I made the mistake once of admitting in Kevin's presence (before I knew that TMBG is his favorite band) that I had never warmed to them. Since that moment when they're in town a ticket with my name on it magically appears; Kevin is not the first person, and hopefully won't be the last, to try and broaden my myopic music sense. It was a really tight and fun show, and it's hard to not like a band who so clearly still loves playing together. The show was also one of those where you can't quite figure out the demographics. There was a core of folks our age (read: dilapidated) but also a big crew of young folks, including one of my nineteen year old students who came bounding over to say hi. It was a fun night, and made me even more appreciative for a tremendous circle of friends which can not be logically explained by my virtues.
Miles Davis, Joshua
Here is more proof, as if (to quote the excellent Sanford Zale) we needed more proof, that Miles Davis was the greatest American genius of the 20th century: his version of Joshua off of Seven Steps to Heaven. Truthfully, Davis produced so many extraordinary albums that I sometimes overlook this one, which is both a pity and foolish because it is an extraordinary record. As he so often tended to be, Davis was in a moment of transition as so many members of his previous quintet had either officially gone solo or were out on the road on their own. On Seven Steps to Heaven he was in the process of putting together a new quintet featuring Davis on trumpet, George Coleman on tenor saxophone, Herbie Hancock on piano, Ron Carter on bass and Tony Williams, who was seventeen at the time, on drums. You would never know that they hadn't been playing together for years. Every song on the album is fantastic, but my favorite, at least today, is Joshua. Pure joy, and can't we all use more joy?
On a lighter note I was thinking about our collective friendship last night when the esteemed Kevin Andrews and I went to the They Might Be Giants show here in Burlington. I made the mistake once of admitting in Kevin's presence (before I knew that TMBG is his favorite band) that I had never warmed to them. Since that moment when they're in town a ticket with my name on it magically appears; Kevin is not the first person, and hopefully won't be the last, to try and broaden my myopic music sense. It was a really tight and fun show, and it's hard to not like a band who so clearly still loves playing together. The show was also one of those where you can't quite figure out the demographics. There was a core of folks our age (read: dilapidated) but also a big crew of young folks, including one of my nineteen year old students who came bounding over to say hi. It was a fun night, and made me even more appreciative for a tremendous circle of friends which can not be logically explained by my virtues.
Dave Wallace
Staples
Singers - I'll Take You There
I'm
going to a Mavis Staples concert tonight, who I've never seen before, and I'm
super-excited. She's a legend, and one of the most important voices in
the history of popular music. The Staples Singers were an incredibly
influential gospel and soul group, and Mavis was their lead singer. Plus,
Bob Dylan wanted to marry her; that would have been quite a match! She's
also had a great late-career resurgence; largely thanks to Jeff Tweedy.
In honor of tonight's show, I've selected the Staples Singers' most popular
song for the blog.
Kevin Andrews
For
me, few things are more Exciting, Engaging and Empowering™ than a They Might Be
Giants show. When this is published that will have happened last night. These
things only happen about every two years so I try to get to more than one show
on the tour. Next week it’s Northampton, MA with the excellent and fellow
obsessive fan, Craig Pepin.
Their
latest “album”, if I haven’t mentioned it before, is excellent. It closes with
the song Last Wave. I’m
guessing it’s a song that’s difficult to perform live given all of its studio
trickery. According to This Might Be A Wiki (TMBW.net) it has never
been performed live. In place of a performance, they’re opening their second
set with a video of the demo version that
is synced to a video with Aerosmith and Run DMC singing Walk This Way.
Last
Wave is lyrically dark, nonsensical, and surreal (go figure). TMBW suggests
that the song was written while watching the demo. If you've ever seen a literal video you’ll get the idea. Listen
for the lyric “buy me some antlers” and it will make sense. Sort of.
Dave Kelley
"Slobberbone",
or as Miranda referred to them, "Cock Gobbler" are now defunct,
but they made some great music back in the day. "Placemat
Blues" is one of my favorites and always reminds me of a mixture of Old
97's and Uncle Tupelo. Turn it up!
Alice Neiley
My
post today is no doubt impacted by my complete immersion in Reckless
Daughter, a biography of Joni Mitchell by David Yaffe, but also by the
fact that I recognize Scudder's emotional and physical exhaustion with exact
accuracy within myself, and especially given how the Seilers are in the throws
of more than anyone should have to handle, this year has felt pretty heavy, to
say the least.
It's true, I've written about Joni already on this blog (extensively, some might say), but the only other artist I can think to turn toward at times like these is Patty Griffin, and I'm not reading her biography at the moment, so...
It's true, I've written about Joni already on this blog (extensively, some might say), but the only other artist I can think to turn toward at times like these is Patty Griffin, and I'm not reading her biography at the moment, so...
The song for this week, "That Song About the Midway" isn't usually talked about or listened to with the same voracity
that other Joni tunes are -- perhaps because it doesn't have a chorus? Perhaps
because its melody wanders a bit? Which are a few of the many things that make
it special, as it turns out. At first glance/hear, it's about a woman suffering
the aftershocks of romance with a mysterious, magical rogue, thus the wandering
nature, the feeling lost. The changes in meter actually mirror the shifts from
direct narrative to metaphor in the lyrics, but I would argue that the whole
thing could be a metaphor for life, as so many of Joni's songs could be, which
is why there's no chorus: that's too concrete, not enough grey area to mirror
reality.
First
of all, in general, there are so many parts of a day or a year that can leave
one in the throws of aftershock, I feel it's too narrow to pin it to the
'rogue', also, Joni always has more than one thing going on in a song. She's a
poet. Duh.
Second of all, the fact that the tune is set on the midway, at a fairground, is as much a metaphor for that lost feeling as any, the sudden empty spaces revealed inside us by exhaustion or grief or shock, and how sometimes beauty ("You looked so grand wearing wings / Do you tape them to your shoulders just to sing") can rise from those spaces (memories, for example).
Second of all, the fact that the tune is set on the midway, at a fairground, is as much a metaphor for that lost feeling as any, the sudden empty spaces revealed inside us by exhaustion or grief or shock, and how sometimes beauty ("You looked so grand wearing wings / Do you tape them to your shoulders just to sing") can rise from those spaces (memories, for example).
Third
of all, though I've done weekly the commute to Canada from VT for 3 years now,
I've noticed geese (white and black) erupting from the fields 5 times as often
since my grandmother passed away, and 5 times as many in the sky. They fill my
entire field of vision sometimes. This may be because I talk to my grandmother
while I'm driving, so perhaps I unintentionally glance upward a bit more.
Either way, when I listened to this song on my way out of town today, there
were the geese, and this was the lyric at that moment: "Can you
fly / I heard you can! Can you fly / Like an eagle doin' your hunting
from the sky."
Make
of it what you will, but it's a gorgeous tune you can dive into and emerge from
feeling like something has been washed clean.
Gary Scudder
Miles Davis, Joshua
Here is more proof, as if (to quote the excellent Sanford Zale) we needed more proof, that Miles Davis was the greatest American genius of the 20th century: his version of Joshua off of Seven Steps to Heaven. Truthfully, Davis produced so many extraordinary albums that I sometimes overlook this one, which is both a pity and foolish because it is an extraordinary record. As he so often tended to be, Davis was in a moment of transition as so many members of his previous quintet had either officially gone solo or were out on the road on their own. On Seven Steps to Heaven he was in the process of putting together a new quintet featuring Davis on trumpet, George Coleman on tenor saxophone, Herbie Hancock on piano, Ron Carter on bass and Tony Williams, who was seventeen at the time, on drums. You would never know that they hadn't been playing together for years. Every song on the album is fantastic, but my favorite, at least today, is Joshua. Pure joy, and can't we all use more joy?
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