It's been too hard living, but I'm afraid to die

Sunday mornings, in my family, were conducted to the accompaniment of "Sunday Soundstage."

The traditional sound my own children are assimilating on the Sabbath is from NPR's "American Routes."

This Sam Cooke song was the closing number of today's show, and damned if it didn't bring tears to my eyes, as I stood there making the pancakes.

***
--> A Change Is Gonna Come, Sam Cooke

I appreciate the herb you brought for me

I have not been able to guess. Do they like Kraft dinner?

***
--> Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? Black Uhuru

It's just my job five days a week

At my daughter's preschool, all of the teachers have mini-biographies of themselves posted on the hallway walls.

They're little games of 20 Questions — favorite season, hobbies, family interests, etc.

And my daughter's teacher says she is "best described" by this song: "Rocket Man" by Elton John.

I haven't thought about this much all school year. But today I asked myself, what is best described by "Rocket Man?" And do we really want it teaching five-year-olds?

***
--> Rocket Man, Elton John
--> Rocket Man, Fastbacks
--> Rocket Man, My Morning Jacket
--> Rocket Man, William Shatner

They lay there apart in another world at the dawn of creation

Many, many years ago, there was a Comet that knew the Earth. The Comet flew past every 17 years or so — that's a short-enough interval as comets go, but it seemed like a plenty long time to the Earth, always so green and stolid, but infused with a sense of yearning and wonder each time the Comet whooshed past, draping Earth's atmosphere in shimmering cosmic dust collected from the far depths of space.

"Comet," the Earth said each time the Comet started to head away, "will I see you again?"

"You will, Earth," the Comet seemed to say. "You will."

"Satisfied" is the song Tom used to play for us at 6 a.m. every Friday morning. It was a song that told me, "you'd better hurry the hell up, son." I'm not sure what it's telling me now. I can't see it clearly through all of the cosmic dust.

***
--> Satisfied, Squeeze
--> I Am My Own Grandpa, Asylum Street Spankers

To lose all my senses was just so typically me

Call it pandering, but hey -- you visit my blog, you comment on my blog, you can be pretty sure you will see something you like the very next time you visit. If I get around to it, I mean.

Richard Thompson. One. Thousand. Years. Of. Popular. Music. How can I describe it any better than Mark Deming of allmusic.dot.com?

As the year 2000 loomed on the horizon, Playboy Magazine took it upon itself to ask a number of leading musicians to name the greatest songs of the soon-to-be-completed millennium. One of the musos queried was Richard Thompson, and while many of his comrades couldn't be bothered to go further back than 1940 in their overview of musical history, the scholarly Thompson took the notion seriously enough to extend his own list of notable songs as far back as 1068 A.D.

While Playboy never ended up printing Thompson's list, the notion made enough of an impression on him that he put together a special show in which he guided his audience through his own version of the greatest hits of the past ten centuries. 1000 Years of Popular Music is culled from recordings of Thompson's concert series of the same name, and beyond the novelty value of the set list (from the oldest round in the English language to Britney Spears in a mere 76 minutes!), it also offers a rare look at Thompson the interpretive musician, as well as lends a fascinating perspective on his musical influences.

As one might expect, the early innings are dominated by the British folk tradition, with "King Henry V's Conquest of France" and "Blackleg Miner" suggesting where Thompson's melodic sense first took root, and other tunes demonstrating how operetta and the British music halls absorbed and refined similar themes. Thompson also indulges his passion for classic jazz of the 1930s and '40s on some Nat King Cole and Louis Armstrong chestnuts, and wraps up by following rock & roll through Jerry Lee Lewis, the Who, and the Beatles to Prince and Britney Spears ("Oops! I Did It Again," of which Thompson writes, "Taken out of context, this is a pretty nice song").

Considering that precious few of these songs were meant to be performed by a solo acoustic guitar, Thompson's arrangements are inventive and effective; whether he's going for laughs or drama, he gets the most from his material. (He's also fortunate to be joined in the proceedings by vocalist Judith Owen and percussionist Michael Jerome).

1000 Years of Popular Music is entertaining, informative, and a lot more enlightening than the average lecture on musical history. Perhaps Thompson should consider writing a text on the subject should his remarkable fingers ever fail him.

***
--> I Live In Trafalgar Square, Richard Thompson
--> Oops...I Did It Again, Richard Thompson

Turn your ears into a medicinal jelly

I'm somewhere beyond the right margin of the photo. Stephen Malkmus played a pretty note-perfect rendering of his new album at First Avenue on Wednesday, but what got the most spirited treatment, to my ears, was "Jo-Jo's Jacket," off the 2001 album. It would be great to find a bootleg of the show to be able to compare the live and studio versions. The concert version was definitely more heavy and dynamic.

Second track is actually just some drunken jackass who left a message on my phone complaining about a story reporting the National Weather Service declaring a Winter Storm Watch. Funny thing is, all I contributed was a paragraph. But I want to be fully responsible for this delectable tongue-lashing. Dear sir: Will you be my surrogate grandpa?

***
--> Jo Jo's Jacket, Stephen Malkmus
-->"I don't know where your head is, but wherever it is, I wish you'd get it out of there," Anonymous

You might think you've found my replacement

Back in the fabled "Day," I had some sort of indefinable thing for Willie Wisely. I trucked great distances for concerts (99-cent gas, kids!), got schnookered in the smoky noise (there were cigarettes there, kids!), and after the show came and accosted the man with belligerent praise as he tried to peddle a couple of CDs from the foot of the stage.

I bought one once. He signed it. It says:

Jeff,

No cheese!

Willie

The "W" in Willie is made to look like a little Pac-Man ghost.

So I've always had this uncomfortable sort of thing with Willie.

Driving today, I heard a voice on the radio that sounded sort of familiar. I came home, checked it out, and wouldn'tchaknow...

Here is that track. Here, also, is a video that, well, ran me through the gamut of interested, more interested, then depressed, before finally sending me off with a sort of "Fight Club"-ish "Huh."

Also some early Willie. You can see how the artist has advanced. Kids.

***
--> Erase Me, Wisely
--> M'Druthers, Willie Wisely Trio

Richard Avedon would surely approve

This here ought to be the feel-good single of the summer. It's practically impossible not to start toe-tapping and feeling very communal to it. (Very similar to last year's FGSOTS. Remember that one?)

All of the cool kids will be blasting it from the speakers on the roofs of their jeeps at the beach. Mark my words.

***
--> Gardenia, Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks

My feet and ears could only take so much

Here's a song that kept coming to my mind last week. I dunno, maybe you heard it once or twice on a TV news network (I can only suppose they used it — I mean, how fitting it would be) and it was on your mind, too.

And, uh, maybe a song for Elliott Spitzer, now that his political career is over. The man with the five-figure female appetite.

***
--> Texas to Ohio, Damien Jurado
--> You Want the Candy, The Raveonettes

This is the record of the time

No, it is not my birthday. Just a couple of songs tonight that speak to the birthday experience.

Alejandro Escovedo's track is on a CD the kids and I have been listening to, called "The Bottle Let Me Down: Songs for Bumpy Wagon Rides." The song, in which a 10-year-old is experiencing something akin to a mid-life crisis, calls to mind the Laurie Anderson song, which endows its characters, presumably adults, with almost unseemly quantities of childlike wonder.

One is catchier than the other, and one is funnier, and I'll leave it to you to guess which is which.

***
--> So Happy Birthday, Laurie Anderson
--> Sad and Dreamy (The Big 1-0), Alejandro Escovedo

Good at being alone

This week finds me in an interesting state of mind — able to take all of the roiling emotions of the past year or so, and not exactly boil them down per se, but essentially taste each discrete element and not let any one of them overpower the rest. I've got the sadness with the hopefulness, the self-loathing with the recovering esteem, the loneliness with the placidity and a growing sense of self-confidence. I wonder if this is what they call "acceptance." Whatever it is, I got here by myself. I wonder if I, or it, will stay.

"There will be no miracles here." And that can be a howl, an exhortation or just a flat observation. It's up to you. (Or me.)

So tonight's playlist calls for some instrumental-y tracks, all the better to non-judge you by. (Or iron shirts by. That's what I listened to them while doing the other night.)

First, in other news, I found a book, or author, I just love. It was pointed out to me not long ago by a female fellow-reader that, despite our voluminous reading lists, there was remarkably little intersection between the two. I took it to mean few female authors on my part, so I picked up Ellen Gilchrist's "The Courts of Love" at the thrift book store. I hadn't heard of Gilchrist before — despite her National Book Award — but by golly, the Washington Post calls her "a national treasure" right there on the cover. I could not resist. Anyway, at a buck the price was right.

I would, lacking any probably better comparisons in my reader's C.V., compare her to John Barth. But there is something distinctly humane I sensed about Gilchrist that Barthy-boy seems to lack. I can't put my finger on it; anyway, despite some quirky po-mo kind of silliness that usually puts me off, I found myself, for better or worse, caring deeply about these characters; so much so, I read the last few pages through moist eyes. (What can I say — my life has made me a softy. These days, I'm practically liable to weep at a well-produced toilet tissue commercial.) I'm through the novella, and into the short stories now. That Nora Jane. Kid reminds me of my son. Awww.

***
--> Archangel, Burial
--> A Paw in My Face, The Field

Oh, mama, can this really be the end?

I have been on an unstoppable Dylan kick lately. It started when I saw I'm Not There around Christmas, then Don't Look Back on a library loan about a month later. Events in my life lately have lent themselves to repeated listenings of "Blood on the Tracks," a purely phenomenal recording, and from that I was inspired to track my way through the back catalogue, which I know mostly through the lens of classic-rock radio and college parties.

"Freewheelin'" is a revelation. What a cool, timeless album. "Blonde on Blonde," the next one I approached, hasn't aged so well. I was surprised. It's so venerated. But it sounds a lot like a product of its times, and I don't mean that in a good way.

"Stuck Inside of Memphis," though, has a fresh sound — you can just about feel your hair being blown back, riding in the convertible, cantcha? — but my lord, it refuses to die. I felt sorry for the lead guitarist — one runs out of licks, you know? Dylan might have been the poet of his generation, but I think the poet could have used an editor sometimes. I think it hit me during the 37th verse. "Can this really be the end?" indeed...

For another taste of an act overstaying its welcome — and the humor is intentional this time, methinks — check out the Richman track. Three minutes of song, five minutes of curtain-call. For all I know, they are playing it still.

***
--> Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again, Bob Dylan
--> Ice-Cream Man (live), Jonathan Richman

I hear you sayin' I am just one kid

If, somehow, I woke up one morning and found myself the host of an afternoon talk-radio show, I'd have no idea what to talk about, but I would know exactly the song to lay under my intros and outros. Take this, Rush and O'Reilly!

***
--> Original Spies, Karate

Don't need no jewels in my crown

These songs are a bit like Mexican cooking. From the same few ingredients — ragged beat, lolling Fender, shimmering Wurlitzer, maybe a gospel choir or two — you get results as predictable as they are tasty. In this case, a sort of lazy transcendence, giving even the coldest January day a flavor of August afternoon on the stilled porch, fingertips dangling to a sweaty bottle that leaves its signature ring on the worn-bare floorboards. What happens when you polish chrome with your oldest, softest denim.

***
--> Aretha, Sing One For Me, Cat Power
--> Tumbling Dice, Rolling Stones

A waste without a dream

Here's an old song that drifted through my head the other day.

And here -- first time on the Interweb, folks --- is a song that drifted through my fingers and vocal cords. Two songs, in fact. Enjoy them while you can, these products of my lowered inhibitions and compromised judgment, before I come to my senses and pull 'em. And if you do listen, by god, use headphones. For some reason -- and I think part of the reason is that I haven't got preamps and powered microphones and other 'fancy' recording equipment -- it doesn't sound good any other way, if, in fact, it sounds good any way.

Update 2-1-08: Too late!

***
--> Lookin' For Me Somewhere, BoDeans
--> Jill Can Drive (Trip Shakespeare), Me, intoxicated 1-29-08
--> Midwestern Arms (Dead Hot Workshop), Me, intoxicated 1-29-08

I know you're gone, you were never mine

A chance tonight to catch up on some of the music of the last week. I love the songs that have this enveloping quality. Practically cinematic.

***
--> Dumb Blood, The Luyas
--> Love's Not Yours, Mike Bones

Shut the fuck up. Get a fucking life bitch

It's not musically related, but this is sure one of the funnier mouth-breathing segments of Internet dialogue I think I have seen. Look on as everyone (well, almost everyone) tries to get this saddened Boston sports fan back on track. He's not an easy subject, though, as you will, "haha," see.

Yawkeeway2: Yes, I know this has nothing to do with football, but I am down in the dumps right now and I know all your fabulous posters out there on these boards can say something that will cheer me up!

Yawkeeway2: Unfortunetly saying the Patriots will win the Superbowl is not going to cheer me up right now! though I am hoping they do win it!

Govt0: Yo man I got you.

Yawkeeway2: Maybe just saying Bump over and over again will cheer me up....

Yawkeeway2: Nope!

Govt0: The Yanks paid all that money and still in da dumps.

Yawkeeway2: Yeah, having the Yankees do that is entertaining, good try though, not working! Appreciate the effort!

Govt0: No, problem man. I'm playing a role as part of a bet. Everyones giving me crap but I'm OK with it. Just try to keep it secret.

Yawkeeway2: Ok, I shall try and keep it a secret! haha, though I think it might have slipped out if people read this thread, :)

RDH2850: Patriots 18-0 going to the Super Bowl, again?
Boston Red Sox World Champions?
No, nothing??????

Yawkeeway2: it does work somewhat, but not as much as I need right now. Nice effort though! Thanks for trying!

Yadda, yadda. And so on. What an asshole. It picks up, though, after a while.

IrishEagle34: Do you know that flexible hose that screws onto the back of your oven... if you screw that off and put it in your mouth for about ten minutes I hear that helps.

Yawkeyway2: SOrry to hear that Y, but it does help a little bit! It sucks and to make it worse, I just found out that my roomate it going to aruba, man the hits keep on coming!

Jim Hellwig: Shut the fuck up. Get a fucking life bitch

Yawkeeway2: Wow, that was insane! if you dont like it, don't post on it! Moron!

Yawkeeway2: It's people like you who piss me off evenmore!

PUH-LEEZE, people! Stop pissing off this downtrodden fellow evenmore! Can you not see that his roommate is going to Aruba?! Man, the hits keep on coming!!!

Leave....(sniff)....Yawkeeway2....alone!!!!

DR. LIONS: So are you cheered up yet or what?you gotta let us know!

Yawkeeway2: I'm getting there Dr. Lions!

DR. LIONS: The moment of truth,is a show on FOX check it out.the questions are crazy!

Yawkeeway2: very true, I NEVER would go on that show, UNLESS i wasnt the one answering the questions!

Yawkeeway2: Thanks everyone!

Yawkeeway2: still unhappy though, haha!

The depths of shallow unhappiness are explored further in the pdfs. And I must say, it is a journey worth taking. As one subsequent contributor posts, "If it makes you feel better I just farted and sh-- my pants all at the same time. Now who's in the dumps?"

***
--> Part 1
--> Part 2
--> Part 3
--> Part 4 (so far)

Tell me do you miss me

Here are two more songs that go together like noisy little salt and pepper shakers.

Same trebley, piercing guitars, same smoky rhythm that you could sway to for, like, a week or so. You dig?

***
--> At Last, The Dø
--> 23 Minutes in Brussels, Luna (Live radio performance)

Breaks my heart and leaves me sad

Bummer. Well, you have to hand it to the winners.

I was trying to think of a gracious song to post, and here's the first and only one that came to mind. And it's sung by the great screaming id of rock n' roll, too — fancy that.

It's been a hell of an awful last 12 months. What's the outcome of a football game to me, really?

***
--> Anna (Go to Him), The Beatles

The hours would never match

Silence is never more eloquent than in this Julie Doiron song, one of my all-time favorites.

Another first-ballot HOFer is Brendan Benson, for this more-exquisite-than-actual-Britpop slice of Britpop.

***
--> Oh These Walls, Julie Doiron
--> Metarie, Brendan Benson

How the choice is made with a fresh resolve

Today's weather presents the Hobson's choice of stay-in-and-go-crazy or go-out-and-perish. It was minus-15 degrees earlier this morning, and minus-8 last I checked. Yikes.

I'm into presenting similar-sounding tracks lately, and here are two more. A good soundtrack to get the dance team suited up and rehearsing.

***
--> My Spine Is the Bassline, Shriekback
--> In One Ear and Out the Other, Fujiya & Miyagi

The whole world began to ring

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..........

It's almost scary how similar — how almost *purposefully* similar — this Throw Me the Statue song sounds to Neutral Milk Hotel.

(NMH's "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea" album being unquestionably one of my "desert island" picks — one of those small handful of records that from the moment I heard them I wondered how life existed before them.)

That said, I could groove to this new tune pretty much all day.

***
--> About to Walk, Throw Me the Statue
--> Song Against Sex, Neutral Milk Hotel

Look, here's another bruise I didn't see

Give it up a little extra for these bands today. They're risking hand injuries for your enjoyment.

Now, go dance jerkily around the room or something.

***
--> Shatner, The Wedding Present
--> Bomb. Repeat. Bomb., Ted Leo and the Pharmacists
--> Everybody's Got Something to Hide (Except for Me and My Monkey), The Feelies
--> Magic Toy Missing, Meat Puppets
--> Big Soft Punch, The Clean

Nothing worse than an educated fool

Feeling self-critical and annoyed lately, so these fit the bill.

***
--> Funkier Than a Mosquito's Tweeter, Nina Simone
--> 99 Problems (Danger Mouse), Jay-Z
--> Inspiration, D.R.I.

Wandering down the back streets of the world

It's possible I'll be in a crummy mood later -- depends how the football game turns out, I guess -- so I thought I'd post something quick now.

A day alone, no kids, means a day for a haircut, a day of laying in provisions. Some wine and beer, a few comic books, dish detergent and some sponges, a new wine glass (because last night, sitting at the desk, I set down on the floor an empty beer bottle....right through the top of an empty wine glass that was there first).

Came home to find my new t-shirt had come. Grin. I'm so easily pleased with such small, cheap things.

David Berman's Silver Jews aren't small and cheap, but they're shambling and rambling. I'm looking forward to the new album coming out later this year, as I am Stephen Malkmus', which has had glittering reviews, so here they are singing together this song that I'm not sure quite how to identify with.

"Advice to the Graduate" -- it's a back-and-forth, with Berman as the mentor, offering instructions on everything from the mundane ("sleep on your back and ash in your shoe") to the anachronistic ("always use the old sense of the word") to the actually useful ("the third drink will lead you astray") to faux-mystic hipster wisecracks ("on the last day of your life, don't forget to die"). Malkmus chimes in as the naif: "I know you've got a lot of hope for a new man."

So, which one am I? I've had cause recently to feel like both.

***
--> Advice to the Graduate, Silver Jews

I am still filled with feeling

These songs are too cool to care what you think.

***
--> The Song Is The Single, BARR
--> Run, Run, Run, Warsawpact