As hard to believe as it is, we've reached that 44th week of the second year of the Discography music discussion which means that we only have two months left. At the very least this will get us through the summer and into glorious Vermont fall (one of the few redeeming qualities of living in the #YankeeHellHole). Another highlight, of course, is going to Lake Monsters games, and I should give a shout out to KA for inspiring us to face the 97 degree temperature to watch the Monsters in a required Event of Excellence. There are three 25 cent hot dog nights on the LM schedule and attending at least one is required for membership in the GOE. We also have the Summer Four Sport Triathlon to plan . . .
Oh, and we're coming up on to another theme week, probably our last one of year two (although it's hard to say, life is unpredictable for those living under the Scudderite junta). This is provided by the consistently excellent Phil Seiler, who is at this moment living the sweet - although also bittersweet - life in Hawaii:
So
that's my proposal. Do with it what ye may."
So,
Carry Me, Ohio is just a gorgeous composition full of longing, regret, and
love. "Sorry that, I could never love you back / I could never care enough
/ in these last days" So simple and so stunningly raw. Enjoy it for what
it is.
Buffalo Springfield, Out of My Mind
As the most musically illiterate member of the Discography family my choices week to week are the easiest to predict: Neil Young or jazz. Out Of My Mind is a song that I often forget about which is unfair because it really is a great song. It's also one of those songs which shows why NY eventually left Buffalo Springfield (and Crosby,Stills, Nash & Young - and Stills/Young - he was always coming from, and going to, another place from the rest of the band). Oh, and here's a nice stripped down solo version from the 1968 Live at the Canterbury House recording that was released as part of the first Archives compilation. On the most basic level it's another one of those songs where Young is struggling with the demands of celebrity; he's obviously talking less about insanity (although so much of the early NY publicity connected him to tortured artists like Van Gogh or Gauguin, you just need to look at the cover of his first solo album) but instead about how stardom was consistently taking him out of himself. The seeds of the Ditch Trilogy were sewn early. I guess this song came back to me as we passed another 4th of July and how utterly conflicted it left me. It seems that the crimes of the Trump junta, but also my own anger in response to it, is consistently driving me out of my mind in the sense of Young's song. Marcus Aurelius assured us that there is the peace of green fields, that quiet place, at our core which we can always reach if we understand what really matters. Lately I've found myself withdrawing from the world more and more and trying to find that evasive peace of green fields, and maybe that's what was behind my conversion a few years ago. Of course, I'm my own worst enemy because I perpetually create new challenges to keep me busy and out of trouble (think border collie), and then grouse about how my life is too complicated. I've talked before about righteous deeds and how I think they're actually just an endless series of times when you're trying to do the right thing in reaction to the wrong thing (the polar opposite of micro-aggressions). Truthfully, I need to devote more time to little projects like the Yemen blog or bringing computers to Zanzibar and less screaming into the vacuum of Twitter.
Oh, and we're coming up on to another theme week, probably our last one of year two (although it's hard to say, life is unpredictable for those living under the Scudderite junta). This is provided by the consistently excellent Phil Seiler, who is at this moment living the sweet - although also bittersweet - life in Hawaii:
"So
here is the link to the article that was kicking around last summer:
I
wish the list existed as one page rather than 15 pages of 10 each but welcome
to the monetized future where even with public resources we cannot have nice
things.
In
any case, the challenge of this theme week is to find a song from the album
that did not make this list that is a tragedy of epic proportions. As but one
example, (And I really should re-verify this list to confirm) but my
recollection is not a single album by Suzanne Vega made this list which
considering how pivotal she was to the neo-folk movement, is disappointing.
The esteemed PS has also compiled this into a pdf which I'll be sending around.
Dave Wallace
Fairport
Convention - Matty Groves
As
the song blog nears its end, another omission by me to date that needs to be
addressed is a song from the great British folk-rock band, Fairport
Convention. A band that included Richard Thompson and Sandy Denny, they
were tremendously influential on a generation of English musicians, but didn't
get a lot of traction in the US. Matty Groves, based on an
old English ballad, is one of their best.
Alice Neiley
I had fully planned on writing about Alison Krauss last week,
as I'd just attended her transcendent outdoor concert in Ottawa and frankly am
still walking on air from it. However, Karen and I decided to go completely
insane (as usual, of course) and drive two twelve hour drives in a row followed
by a 6 hour drive from Ottawa to Saskatchewan so we could get out to the
prairies for part of Karen's twin sister's vacation. So, I didn't post at all
last week, and as transcendent as Krauss was/is, I've now become obsessed with
something else.
Well,
I guess it's re-obsessed. Ages ago, in 2011, when the world was relatively sane
and seemingly compassionate, I made a 7-volume mix CD I entitled "Melt in
Your Mouth: Songs One Must Never Skip". It was inspired by a friend who
made an 8 volume mix called "Super Delicious"...but I digress. I've
been listening to Melt in Your Mouth recently with a substantial amount of
sadness and nostalgia for simpler times, but an even more substantial gratitude
for friends, music, drawing pencils, books, and lakes to swim in, especially in
this tropics-on-crack heatwave.
Thus,
this weeks song choice: "Dimming of the Day" performed by Bonnie
Raitt, track number 12 on Melt in Your Mouth Volume 6. Incidentally, track
number 13 is the same song performed by Emmylou Harris, because both are
equally good and completely different interpretations. It depends whether you
prefer a fuller instrumental and vocal background (harmonies and all, some of
which sung by Richard Thompson who wrote the song) as well as Raitt's deeper,
stronger female vocal timbre, or whether you prefer the angelic Harris with her
one guitar (later some simple vocal harmonies sung by Gram Parsons). Both
versions pull a person in, both versions melt everything around the soul and
leave a person completely exposed, without even sleeves on which to wear the
heart.
Phil Seiler
Sun
Kil Moon
I
post this song with some reluctance. It is a beautiful, haunting composition
sung with such earnest longing and regret that I tear up any time I indulge
myself in truly connecting to the lyrics and the melody. However, Mark Kozelek
is a problematic individual and I don't know what to do about that.
The
"separate the art from the artist" problem is real and complex and I
vacillate on where I fall. So many great artists (ok, MALE artists) produce(d)
amazing work while being absolutely despicable human beings. How do I relate so
closely to these pieces of work while being so repulsed by the artist's
worldview? In the age of Papaya Pinochet, this seems a first world problem to
wrestle with but some times we must take a break from the literal torture of
human children to indulge in our own realities.
Cyndi Brandenburg
I know I haven’t
posted in a while, so I thought I’d offer up this late entry for the week.
As some of you know, I have been away helping my parents after unexpected
surgery for my dad. And while there were challenges, there was also
something strangely comforting, reminiscent, good and grounding, about just the
three of us spending our days together (albeit in an independent living
retirement community).
On my last night, I stole away to my sister’s house, and we drank negronis and listened to NPRs Wine & Whine playlist (32 Sweaty Sticky Sings for Your Sweaty Sticky Life). The song In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel made me especially happy. There is beauty to be found everywhere in all this life if we look hard enough. And I’m happy to be back home.
On my last night, I stole away to my sister’s house, and we drank negronis and listened to NPRs Wine & Whine playlist (32 Sweaty Sticky Sings for Your Sweaty Sticky Life). The song In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel made me especially happy. There is beauty to be found everywhere in all this life if we look hard enough. And I’m happy to be back home.
Dave Kelley
Perhaps the
quintessential song about America is "This Land is Your Land" by the
great Woodie Guthrie. I have chosen a cover of the song Bruce was
doing live in the 1980's. I was not alive in the 1930's and was still a
child in 1968. However, I have never been more pessimistic about this
country's future than I am right now. I know the nation as a whole, and
certainly not this abhorrent administration, are anywhere close at the moment
to living up to the ideals expressed in this song.
Gary Scudder
Buffalo Springfield, Out of My Mind
As the most musically illiterate member of the Discography family my choices week to week are the easiest to predict: Neil Young or jazz. Out Of My Mind is a song that I often forget about which is unfair because it really is a great song. It's also one of those songs which shows why NY eventually left Buffalo Springfield (and Crosby,Stills, Nash & Young - and Stills/Young - he was always coming from, and going to, another place from the rest of the band). Oh, and here's a nice stripped down solo version from the 1968 Live at the Canterbury House recording that was released as part of the first Archives compilation. On the most basic level it's another one of those songs where Young is struggling with the demands of celebrity; he's obviously talking less about insanity (although so much of the early NY publicity connected him to tortured artists like Van Gogh or Gauguin, you just need to look at the cover of his first solo album) but instead about how stardom was consistently taking him out of himself. The seeds of the Ditch Trilogy were sewn early. I guess this song came back to me as we passed another 4th of July and how utterly conflicted it left me. It seems that the crimes of the Trump junta, but also my own anger in response to it, is consistently driving me out of my mind in the sense of Young's song. Marcus Aurelius assured us that there is the peace of green fields, that quiet place, at our core which we can always reach if we understand what really matters. Lately I've found myself withdrawing from the world more and more and trying to find that evasive peace of green fields, and maybe that's what was behind my conversion a few years ago. Of course, I'm my own worst enemy because I perpetually create new challenges to keep me busy and out of trouble (think border collie), and then grouse about how my life is too complicated. I've talked before about righteous deeds and how I think they're actually just an endless series of times when you're trying to do the right thing in reaction to the wrong thing (the polar opposite of micro-aggressions). Truthfully, I need to devote more time to little projects like the Yemen blog or bringing computers to Zanzibar and less screaming into the vacuum of Twitter.
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