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R.E.M. At The Mann
These Days
Living Well Is The Best Revenge
What’s The Frequency, Kenneth
Wolves, Lower
Man-Sized Wreath
Turn You Inside Out
Imitation Of Life
Looking Down The Barrell
Ignoreland
Bad Day
Hollowman
Great Beyond
Houston
Electrolyte
Walk Unafraid
The One I Love
Find The River
Let Me In
Departure
Life and How To Live It
Orange Crush
I’m Gonna DJ
ENCORE
Supernatural Superserious
Losing My Religion
Begin The Begin (with Eddie Vedder)
Fall On Me
Man On The Moon
I saw my 6th R.E.M. concert Wednesday night. It was at the Mann and was the best R.E.M. show I’ve seen. Jumping to the encore… Eddie Vedder came out (Pearl Jam was in town for a concert later in the week) and sang Begin The Begin… and he rocked. Being the dork I am, I checked out his history with R.E.M. and he’s performed that song with them before. He looked like he was having a blast.
They played almost everything I would have requested… and a couple of times I caught myself sighing like a teenage girl.
Modest Mouse and The National opened. The National was good… it was fun to see them play with strings and a brass section. Modest Mouse was not as much fun… sort of felt like they were going through the motions. And they didn’t play the one song everyone knows: Float On.
On a June evening in 1984, I was listening to my favorite radio station in this city. It was back when radio stations, the good ones, were locally managed, and the DJs had lots of leeway in what they played. The good stations knew their local audiences, the local bands, and they had the flavor of their cities.
On that night the DJ announced he had the latest single by Bruce Springsteen. He gave the impression that he himself hadn’t even heard it.
And then he played Dancing In The Dark.
For the next 3:59, I rocked out with the single that grabbed me instantly like few songs ever had.
And then when it was over the DJ came on and announced that the song was so good he was going to play it again. It was the only time I have ever heard the same song, twice in a row on mainstream radio. That song at that time was worth it.
The next day riding to school with friends I told them about the song and made the bold prediction that the whole album might be one we’d all like.
That album was, of course, Born In The U.S.A.
I was no musical genius, the album was that good.
Rarely do I fall for one song on one listening, but last night I downloaded Bruce’s new single Radio Nowhere. It rocks, it’s catchy, it’s Bruce and it appears to be about the decline of American radio.
I hope there’s a station out there somewhere that will play it twice in a row. It’s worth it.
—————-
Now playing: Bruce Springsteen – Radio Nowhere
via FoxyTunes
A few weeks ago I was taking a long drive and threw my Violent Femmes greatest hits disk into the CD player. It’s one of those CDs that I’ve had for a while but hadn’t listened to in ages.
The song Gone Daddy Gone came on and I rocked out. It’s a great tune. For the love of Pete… it has a xylophone (or one of those things that sounds and looks like a xylophone but is called something else that I can’t remember from 3rd grade music). Whatever, you can’t go wrong with a punk song with a xylophone solo in it.
So as I listened over and over I thought, “damn… what a shame that a great song like this is long forgotten. Too bad no one has ever remade it.”
Then this week I saw an ad for Chris Rock’s new movie, and immediately recognized the song in it as Gone Daddy Gone.
Ha Ha!
I know good music. I thought it and someone listened to my brain and they did it! I’m a genius.
Tonight I looked it up on ITunes. I didn’t expect to find it, it’s a new release, of course, and I’m so forward thinking, so ahead of the curve, I knew I’d probably have to wait a few weeks.
But, lo and behold, it came up…
And then I realized the truth of my genius. It isn’t really so genius.
Gnarls Barkley did it…
On their St. Elsewhere CD…
That came out last year.
OK, that’s not so dumb.
Except I have that CD.
And I’ve listened to it several times.
And that means I’ve listened to the new version of the song…
Several times.
So, not only has it been redone… but I’ve had the redone version myself for 8 months.
I pretend I know a lot about music. I don’t know sh*t… even about the stuff I have.
That’s alright… I have another big idea… and no one has thought of this: What if Sting got together with his old band mates and did a Police reunion tour?
If only people could read my brilliant musical mind!
In 1987 my parents got their first CD player. I already had lots of cassettes and LP’s, but my first CD purchase had to be something I’d remember.
I ended up buying Squeeze’s 45s and Under, their greatest hits disk, and for the next few weeks I played it over and over and over again. If it had been a cassette or an LP, it would have worn out.
Tempted. Black Coffee In Bed. Up The Junction.
I loved every song on the disk.
I never got a chance to see the band live though, until this weekend, when I got to see a close alternative.
Chris Difford was half of the duo that essentially led the band, the other half being Glenn Tilbrook. Once in the 80s I read that they had the potential to be the greatest writing team since Lennon and McCartney. Their relationship was also strained, like Lennon and McCartney’s. And while it sounds like they are on much better terms these days, Difford is still out on a solo tour.
The place where he played was one of those intimate venues not even big enough to be called a hall or a club. And it’s one of the best places to hear music in this city.
Instead of paying $150 and sitting a football field away, I bought the tickets with the cash in my pocket, and sat no father then 10 feet from him.
He chatted with the crowd, we sang along, it was great.
Tempted. Black Coffee In Bed, Up The Junction…
Just like in Squeeze, though, Difford didn’t go at it alone. He had two stage-mates with him.
Melvin Duffy played pedal steel and made it sing. He also looked like he was having a blast.
And then there was Dorie Jackson.
Holy Moly… I have such a crush!
I wish I could say I’d heard her sing before. For the last two days I’ve been trying to think of the best words to describe her voice.
You know how you feel when you’re chilly and you get that mouthful of sweet, hot cocoa at the perfect temperature? First your mouth feels great, then your body is filled with warmth and happiness. Well, that’s what her voice did (except for my ears not my mouth…)
She was also the perfect complement to Difford and his Squeeze songs. Depth, emotion… blah blah blah… it was all there in her voice.
After the set, they mingled with the crowd. I got to shake Difford’s hand, yet it was more exciting to tap Dorie on the shoulder and tell her how beautiful her voice is. She must hear it all the time, yet she was charming and gave me the delightful British response of “Cheers.”
Like I said, total schoolboy crush…
She has a solo CD coming out sometime this year. I don’t know what her solo style is, but with her voice it doesn’t matter.
There is apparently much more to Lily Allen than I realized.
A co-worker of mine just forwarded me this link to a recent article on how the singer likes to spend her time while she’s on the road.
I guess it’s one way of learning local culture.
A few days ago I wrote that there is no bad music.
I may have overstated it.
Several months ago, on a flight from Egypt to the U.S. I had a layover in Frankfurt. The plane sat on the runway for about an hour and a half, for whatever reason that planes just sit there. It was hot and we were tired and sitting on coach on Lufthansa isn’t all that comfortable.
While we waited, the airline pumped the same song through the speakers, over and over again. It wasn’t very loud, just enough volume to hear what sounded like an off key European singer repeating the same annoying melody over and over again. We couldn’t hear the words, just the tune. Just the annoying tune.
Again.
And again.
For the entire time we sat on the runway.
That was back in October.
The song has made its way stateside.
Last night’s musical guest on SNL was a woman named Lily Allen. I’d never heard of her so I turned down the volume, I couldn’t hear the words, just the tune.
All of a sudden this sense of tension built up inside of me. I couldn’t help but wonder when we were going to takeoff, why the air was so stagnant, why I was so uncomfortable! Odd thoughts for someone sitting on a comfy couch in his own living room.
I slowly turned to the screen and turned up the volume.
It was the song. It’s called Smile, and just thinking about it is filling me with a sense of rage.
Maybe it’s not the song itself, (although I think it is) maybe it’s the environment in which I first heard it. But it’s stuck in my head again and I’m not at all happy about it.
The more I think about it, the less guilty I feel about any of the music on my IPod.
That’s because one of my lifelong credos has been “There Is No Bad Music.”
There is rock and roll that makes your body shake. There is blues that makes you feel pain. There is classical music that creates vivid visual images. There is pop that makes you giddy.
I have been to rock concerts that were religious experiences.
I have been to orchestral performances that brought tears to my eyes.
I have been to churches where the choirs had stronger messages than the ministers.
I have danced to polka.
I have sung along to barbershop quartets.
I have belted out show tunes in my shower.
Music reminds me of the best times in my life. It also reminds me of the worst times in my life. There are songs I won’t listen to ever again, because of how I’m afraid they’ll make me feel. There are songs I listen to often because I know how they’ll make me feel.
There are few things that can bring thousands of people together as one.
I have heard 100,000 people sing along to one song. I have sung at the top of my lungs with 99,999 people I didn’t know.
My high school class of 90 people never was closer than when we all sang hymn 576 in the Episcopal Hymnal.
If REO Speedwagon reminds me of one of the most favorite summers of my life, if Duran Duran conjures up an image of a girl I saw but never met, if Salt ‘n’ Pepa take me back to the prom… well… I accept it.
I hold my head high… and the volume too.
When I was a kid, I used to spend part of my summers up at my grandparent’s cottage on a lake in Ontario. It was an 8 hour drive to get there… 8 hours in the big green American sedan, just my grandparents and me. 8 hours of listening to my grandfather’s radio stations.
If nothing else, he was very consistent with his musical tastes.
For the first hour, we would listen to this city’s easy listening station, EZ101. For those of you too young to remember, EZ listening was elevator music. Popular tunes, played Lawrence Welk style. For a teenager, EZ listening was similar to having a bug gnawing through your brain.
After an hour in the car, the station’s signal would begin to fade. That was not a problem for my well organized grandfather. He would just hit the next button on his radio and we’d be tuned into the next region’s EZ station.
So it continued for 8 hours. Once one station was out of range, he’d tune in the next.
Then, when we got to the lake, he would tune, no, lock the house radio to CFMO Radio “The Songs of Our Times.”
Most kids were rockin’ out during the summer. I was listening to Ray Conniff, The Hollyridge Strings, Sergio Mendes… and of course, Mantovani.
My first Walkman was the greatest gift of my life. For the first time, I could listen to what I wanted.
Of course, the Walkman is gone. Instead I have my 60 gig Ipod, with 5000 songs on it.
When my friend Lemon Gloria asked today whether readers have embarrassing selections on their MP3 players, I had a confession.
I have an EZ Listening playlist.
Paul Mauriat’s Love Is Blue; Frank Mills’ Music Box Dancer; Hot Butter’s Popcorn; and a sitar version of The Who’s I Can See For Miles.
Individually, each song is, well, perhaps wretched. As a group, the music reminds me of the smell of the cabin, the sound of the wind, and summers where my biggest stress was what kind of music to listen to.
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