As seen on my Twitter feed yesterday, I got the Steely Dan jones thing goin' on and decided that I was going to listen to all of the first wave (1972-1980) of their output. Decided to go alphabetical for a change-up; a little jarring - I've listened to them for a good 6 months out of the year every year since 1987, so at the end of a track, I'm thinking of the next album track. I know, I should have real problems, right?
But anyway, what invariably happens when I set myself a reading/watching/listening project is that something else comes up as a memory sync. This is why I pull my DVDs in 3s (more on that next week.)
So, about halfway through the listen, I start thinking of Pavement, that awesome alt-rock band from the 1990s. Why? At first blush, you'd think that they have nothing in common, right? Well, how about an idiosyncratic lead singer and inscrutable lyrics?
But another way that they chime each other for me is that both acts get a bad rap for being elitist or snobby.
And I just don't get that, especially in the case of Steely Dan. Despite the jazz inflection, the aforementioned lyrical bent, the aversion to feeding the pop machine, everything these guys did was to serve the song.
But the thrust of this post is to ask, what movies/songs/books/comics/etc. chime each other in your mind?
Here's two of mine - let me know yours:
When I watch Soderbergh's sex, lies and videotape, after Peter Gallagher beats up James Spader, throws him out of his own house and starts to watch the tape of Andie MacDowell, watching him stand there, about to have truth revealed to him, I automatically think of Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey, when Dave Bowman unplugs HAL and the pre-recorded message kicks in, revealing the true nature of their mission.
Also, at the beginning of Ridley Scott's Blade Runner, there is an image of flame reflected in someone's eye. That connects to Tony (Ridley's brother, as it turns out) Scott's Revenge when Anthony Quinn burns down Kevin Costner's cabin and the flames are reflected in his sunglasses.
What have you?
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Sequencing is the trick
(Don't ask where I've been for the last 3 months. I'm back and you're in for a good summer's worth of posts...)
It's been said that editing and score are post-production procedures that can make or break a movie. I'd like to think that good acting, direction by a storyteller rather than a moneymaker and hey, what about a great script to kick the project off all rank in there somewhere as well.
When comes to albums (collections of songs, folks), sequencing really helps as well. Most people who like The Smiths huzzah The Queen is Dead over the other studio albums, but the pacing doesn't work for me as well as let's say, Meat is Murder. But that's just me.
As I was rummaging through some old albums and box sets, I stumbled upon Paul Simon's 1964-1993 that was put out right around the time he was doing some career retrospective shows at the Paramount Theater in NYC.
The box is a good collection - although, quite sacrilegiously, they offer a live "Still Crazy After All These Years" vastly inferior to the original. But there is a sequence of tracks on Disc One that is simply breathtaking. It's so well done that it can't help but call attenttion to itself and you think on it and say, "Wow - there's the hand of something stronger at work here." And like all good things should, it demands that you review your thoughts on the subject and pay more attention the next time around. If anyone wants me to, I can "get" the tracks to you so you can decide on your own.
"Bridge Over Troubled Water" (demo) - Paul sings this demo - it's got different lyrics. And as the case is when we hear demos retroactively, we can simultaneously see where the official version came from and marvel at the changes production can wring.
"Bridge Over Troubled Water" - the masterwork, from their 1970 swansong album. I believe it's the most covered song from the latter half of the 1960s, though I need citations, please. Garfunkel's voice is angelic, for sure, but Paul coming in to share the final verse puts this one right over the top. The song of healing the 1960s needed after Woodstock begat Altamont.
"The Breakup" - a humorous little piece of studiosity from 1973, this finds Garfunkel (with recording room punch-ins from Simon) attempting to explain the necessity of their dissolved partnership.
"Hey Little Schoolgirl" - and then, we're slammed back to 1957 for the earliest recorded track of their career, when they were known only as 'Tom and Jerry'.
"My Little Town" - hard jump 20 years to the 'comeback' single from 1975, a lyrically dissonant ode to hating the town you come from. Oddly (or maybe not so oddly) not about Queens... Interesting to note how the entire song is sung by the two in unison.
And there you have it, a time-hopping abbreviated history of the duo.
It's been said that editing and score are post-production procedures that can make or break a movie. I'd like to think that good acting, direction by a storyteller rather than a moneymaker and hey, what about a great script to kick the project off all rank in there somewhere as well.
When comes to albums (collections of songs, folks), sequencing really helps as well. Most people who like The Smiths huzzah The Queen is Dead over the other studio albums, but the pacing doesn't work for me as well as let's say, Meat is Murder. But that's just me.
As I was rummaging through some old albums and box sets, I stumbled upon Paul Simon's 1964-1993 that was put out right around the time he was doing some career retrospective shows at the Paramount Theater in NYC.
The box is a good collection - although, quite sacrilegiously, they offer a live "Still Crazy After All These Years" vastly inferior to the original. But there is a sequence of tracks on Disc One that is simply breathtaking. It's so well done that it can't help but call attenttion to itself and you think on it and say, "Wow - there's the hand of something stronger at work here." And like all good things should, it demands that you review your thoughts on the subject and pay more attention the next time around. If anyone wants me to, I can "get" the tracks to you so you can decide on your own.
"Bridge Over Troubled Water" (demo) - Paul sings this demo - it's got different lyrics. And as the case is when we hear demos retroactively, we can simultaneously see where the official version came from and marvel at the changes production can wring.
"Bridge Over Troubled Water" - the masterwork, from their 1970 swansong album. I believe it's the most covered song from the latter half of the 1960s, though I need citations, please. Garfunkel's voice is angelic, for sure, but Paul coming in to share the final verse puts this one right over the top. The song of healing the 1960s needed after Woodstock begat Altamont.
"The Breakup" - a humorous little piece of studiosity from 1973, this finds Garfunkel (with recording room punch-ins from Simon) attempting to explain the necessity of their dissolved partnership.
"Hey Little Schoolgirl" - and then, we're slammed back to 1957 for the earliest recorded track of their career, when they were known only as 'Tom and Jerry'.
"My Little Town" - hard jump 20 years to the 'comeback' single from 1975, a lyrically dissonant ode to hating the town you come from. Oddly (or maybe not so oddly) not about Queens... Interesting to note how the entire song is sung by the two in unison.
And there you have it, a time-hopping abbreviated history of the duo.
Friday, April 17, 2009
"The Boys of Summer" and that line
Once again, I'd like to take the opportunity to mention that this is the 25th anniversary of 1984, the greatest year for music ever.
One of the many, many great releases from that year was Don Henley's "The Boys of Summer" from Building the Perfect Beast. The album has plenty of high points besides this single, although it's not as good as his 1982 debut, I Can't Stand Still. Henley was one of my two first musical heroes (along with Lindsey Buckingham), years before I discovered Springsteen, Prince and the fact that heroes eventually suck almost as much as having heroes (a lesson brought on by most of Henley's post-1984 material among other things)
The linchpin of the single is, of course, the line "Out on the road today, I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac", a line so indelibly brilliant, it even eclipses the fact that he needed to explain it in the following line. I invite any of you reading this to produce a line as good or better than that.
Now, in 2003, a band called The Ataris covered the song, changing the key line to "...a Black Flag sticker on a Cadillac", which doesn't work the same for me. But what it does achieve is this and follow me 'round the horn here:
One of the many, many great releases from that year was Don Henley's "The Boys of Summer" from Building the Perfect Beast. The album has plenty of high points besides this single, although it's not as good as his 1982 debut, I Can't Stand Still. Henley was one of my two first musical heroes (along with Lindsey Buckingham), years before I discovered Springsteen, Prince and the fact that heroes eventually suck almost as much as having heroes (a lesson brought on by most of Henley's post-1984 material among other things)
The linchpin of the single is, of course, the line "Out on the road today, I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac", a line so indelibly brilliant, it even eclipses the fact that he needed to explain it in the following line. I invite any of you reading this to produce a line as good or better than that.
Now, in 2003, a band called The Ataris covered the song, changing the key line to "...a Black Flag sticker on a Cadillac", which doesn't work the same for me. But what it does achieve is this and follow me 'round the horn here:
- Don Henley rises to fame in a band called the Eagles. Said band comes to represent for many the corporatization of rock music, leading those many to become...
- ...punk rockers! Punk goes through many phases and guises over 15 years until Nirvana breaks through, paving the way for the recombinant bastard called (by me, at least) "corporate punk", epitomized by bands like, well, The Ataris, who pay homage to Don Henley, instead of, I don't know, maybe Joe Strummer, Joey Ramone or even John Lydon.
- Kurt Cobain wonders if he should have pulled the trigger instead of continuing on in the path he opened with Unplugged in New York, which was in 1994 as "punk as fuck" as "punk as fuck" got.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Marc spends over a month away from his blog, and when he returns it's for a stupid joke
There's a playlist on my iPod (which is called "Marc's iPod") called "Marc's Songs", filled with songs that don't fit into other lists. Every once in a while, I'll just think of a whole bunch of songs and load 'em on.
The other day I threw on Snow's "Informer" from 1992 and it's still a great track. But of course, it got me thinking.
The album it came from was called 12 Inches of Snow. That title works on a number of levels - a play on a weather report, a reference to the fact that vinyl albums were 12" in diameter and of course, a brag about the size of his...wedding favors?
That's cool, being that Snow's a hip-hop act and they're usually known for their sexual braggadocio. BUT, the album came out WELL into the CD era...
I guess 5 Inches of Snow wouldn't have helped his street cred.
The other day I threw on Snow's "Informer" from 1992 and it's still a great track. But of course, it got me thinking.
The album it came from was called 12 Inches of Snow. That title works on a number of levels - a play on a weather report, a reference to the fact that vinyl albums were 12" in diameter and of course, a brag about the size of his...wedding favors?
That's cool, being that Snow's a hip-hop act and they're usually known for their sexual braggadocio. BUT, the album came out WELL into the CD era...
I guess 5 Inches of Snow wouldn't have helped his street cred.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
A different look at 2008 in music
(Been looking through the 'Draft' pile on my blog for stuff that I abandoned. This one's a little overdue, but, as always, I'm looking to get all of you out of your staid 'whatever's-on-the-radio-that's-what-I'll-listen-to'. Remember, the people want what the people get. That's not good - that's not how greatness is revealed to us.
Damnit.)
I've decided that I'm not going to do a traditional "Best of 2008" in music for a simple reason - I didn't buy Dear Science by TV on the Radio and therefore won't have a number one pick.
What I am going to do instead is do a "Top Albums, Acts or Styles" that I became aware of this year, regardless of date of issue. Also, I'm going to do a "Top Albums, Acts or Styles" that I re-acquainted myself with this year.
Things I discovered a love for the first time this year
Damnit.)
I've decided that I'm not going to do a traditional "Best of 2008" in music for a simple reason - I didn't buy Dear Science by TV on the Radio and therefore won't have a number one pick.
What I am going to do instead is do a "Top Albums, Acts or Styles" that I became aware of this year, regardless of date of issue. Also, I'm going to do a "Top Albums, Acts or Styles" that I re-acquainted myself with this year.
Things I discovered a love for the first time this year
- Bishop Allen
- African music
- Le mystere des voix bulgares
- Ornette Coleman
- Sonny Rollins
- Off the Coast of Me and Fresh Fruit in Foreign Places- Kid Creole and the Coconuts
- The Style Council
- Mario Biondi and the High Five Quintet
- Forever Breathes the Lonely Word - Felt
- Tommy: The Wedding Present 1985-1987 - The Wedding Present
- Off the Wall - Michael Jackson - kicks Thriller's ass any day of the week and twice on Sunday.
- The Rolling Stones' 1980s studio work - OK, forget "Start Me Up" (wait, we can't - it's encoded on our DNA) - but the rest of these 4 albums make a case for working waaay past what society might think are your "valid" years.
- Radio KAOS - Roger Waters - Waters got the conceptual stuff in the Pink Floyd divorce of the 1980s and Gilmour got the musicality. But this one has a good deal of interesting melodies to go along with the story. If you jumped off (a building) after hearing The Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking, dust it off and try this overlooked album from 1987, the year closest to the awesomeness that is 1984.
- Gold, Volume One - The Bee Gees - my very first vinyl album. Dad got it for me. Dad would go on every year to Jimmy's Music World, then The Wiz and finally Tower Records (4th and Broadway - we miss you, stah!) to bravely ask for the increasingly outlandish shit I would ask for. I owe him huge for 1983, when he had to get me The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway and Abacab. Hope 2 grandkids are enough.
- Mid-period Genesis (as well as Phil Collins' output from that time) - 1976-1982 for the band (stop before 1983's Genesis, please) and the first three solo Phil joints.
- Brighten the Corners - Pavement. Along with Yo La Tengo's I Can Feel the Heart Beating as One, the album that brought me back to music with a vengeance in 1997. I will personally guarantee your money on these two.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Thoughts on Music
The wife and I were driving the other day and I'm playing Prince's 1999, for a piece I'm doing. As the songs are going by, I'm throwing out little tidbits of trivia and working out bits for the piece, and wife turns to me and says, "Can't you just enjoy music?"
wow.
But, to me, talking about things is enjoying them. I mean, it's not like I haven't listened to 1999 for well over 25 years, haven't sung the songs, watched the videos, etc. I've enjoyed this album; I've also bought the living hell out of it as well - vinyl, then CD, then on cassette thanks to a garage sale and I would get it on iTunes (lost the CD), but I think they have a botched version. Hey, I've enjoyed this album.
So, we have the age old saw - "Writing about music is like dancing about architecture" - which has been the basis for quite a bit of discussion as to who first said it - see here or this site, by an all-round good guy, Rob Brookman. Hey, here's a thought - what if the 'about' isn't 'of; concerning; in regard to', but actually 'on every side of; around'? That'd put a new twist on it, wouldn't it?
Anyway, I reject the notion that to respond to artistic expression is somehow wrong. Not everyone can create a song, a film, a comic book; all of us, however, can experience it and react to it. Some of us even feel inspired to write about it. Doesn't that constitute art in and of itself? Especially when art or Art or "Art" can be seen as a person's voluntary response to his surroundings. When you get right down to it, it's almost scientific - pure input/output.
Another thing I've been grappling with the nature of is lyrics. How important are they? Do you like lyrics that are literal or somewhat more obscure, esoteric, evocative? Gun to my head, I have to fall down on the latter side. Lyrics that are literal tend to, after a while, just lie there. Either they're topical, and become anachronistic, or they just say the same thing over and over. On the other hand, lyrics that are less obvious as to their meaning(s) have a longer life with me, as they involve me in the song as much as the guitar or rhythm. Also, depending on the state/situation I'm in, certain lyrics will change as surely I am changing. (I also find that there are two types of people when it comes to horoscopes - those who read them early in the day and then take every event as it comes and bend it to the horoscope and those who reflect upon their days at the end of them and say, "Oh, that's what that meant...")
Nothing's ever in stone, though. Whereas over the last decade I've favored bands like Pavement and Interpol, whose lyrics are inscrutable to the point of frustration, I'll then hear a song like the Mountain Goats' "Woke Up New". As the narrator finds himself without his lover for the first time, he catalogs the world around him and finds he's reacting differently to mundane things. This is nowhere near anything new in the world of pop music, but John Darnielle takes care to bring a new twist to old themes.
Thoughts, anyone?
Addendum: Just iTuned 1999 - it's fine, not an edited version at all. Look for the piece this week
wow.
But, to me, talking about things is enjoying them. I mean, it's not like I haven't listened to 1999 for well over 25 years, haven't sung the songs, watched the videos, etc. I've enjoyed this album; I've also bought the living hell out of it as well - vinyl, then CD, then on cassette thanks to a garage sale and I would get it on iTunes (lost the CD), but I think they have a botched version. Hey, I've enjoyed this album.
So, we have the age old saw - "Writing about music is like dancing about architecture" - which has been the basis for quite a bit of discussion as to who first said it - see here or this site, by an all-round good guy, Rob Brookman. Hey, here's a thought - what if the 'about' isn't 'of; concerning; in regard to', but actually 'on every side of; around'? That'd put a new twist on it, wouldn't it?
Anyway, I reject the notion that to respond to artistic expression is somehow wrong. Not everyone can create a song, a film, a comic book; all of us, however, can experience it and react to it. Some of us even feel inspired to write about it. Doesn't that constitute art in and of itself? Especially when art or Art or "Art" can be seen as a person's voluntary response to his surroundings. When you get right down to it, it's almost scientific - pure input/output.
Another thing I've been grappling with the nature of is lyrics. How important are they? Do you like lyrics that are literal or somewhat more obscure, esoteric, evocative? Gun to my head, I have to fall down on the latter side. Lyrics that are literal tend to, after a while, just lie there. Either they're topical, and become anachronistic, or they just say the same thing over and over. On the other hand, lyrics that are less obvious as to their meaning(s) have a longer life with me, as they involve me in the song as much as the guitar or rhythm. Also, depending on the state/situation I'm in, certain lyrics will change as surely I am changing. (I also find that there are two types of people when it comes to horoscopes - those who read them early in the day and then take every event as it comes and bend it to the horoscope and those who reflect upon their days at the end of them and say, "Oh, that's what that meant...")
Nothing's ever in stone, though. Whereas over the last decade I've favored bands like Pavement and Interpol, whose lyrics are inscrutable to the point of frustration, I'll then hear a song like the Mountain Goats' "Woke Up New". As the narrator finds himself without his lover for the first time, he catalogs the world around him and finds he's reacting differently to mundane things. This is nowhere near anything new in the world of pop music, but John Darnielle takes care to bring a new twist to old themes.
Thoughts, anyone?
Addendum: Just iTuned 1999 - it's fine, not an edited version at all. Look for the piece this week
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Made-to-Order Playlists - 11/23/2008
(Here's another playlist from my project to gain good karma so I can continue to mentally slay the bus cretins. More to follow - I need all the help I can get; there's sooo many bus cretins.)
"5 David Bowie songs that Lou Reed should do covers of", submitted by Chad Nevett
"This is Not America"
"Fashion" (and Lou, please phrase 'the' better than "thuh-uh")
"Blue Jean"
"Breaking Glass"
"Dancing in the Street" (duet with wife Laurie Anderson)
"This is Not America"
"Fashion" (and Lou, please phrase 'the' better than "thuh-uh")
"Blue Jean"
"Breaking Glass"
"Dancing in the Street" (duet with wife Laurie Anderson)
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Made-to-Order Playlists - 11/18/2008
(Here's the first playlist of my project to gain good karma so I can continue to mentally slay the bus cretins. More to follow - I need all the help I can get; there's sooo many bus cretins.)
"Top 10 songs sung by a female that you would want to cover at a Karaoke session with a real band behind you." submitted by Paul Caputo
"You Only Live Twice", Nancy Sinatra
"Love Song for a Vampire", Annie Lennox
"Come Away With Me", Norah Jones
"The World Spins", Julee Cruise
"Tired Eyes", Containe
"Love is Here Where I Live", Everything But the Girl
"Saints", The Breeders
"Time the Avenger", The Pretenders
"Shame", Low
"Up the Neck", The Pretenders
"Protection", Massive Attack (sung by Tracey Thorn)
"Tom's Diner", DNA (sung by Suzanne Vega)
"Misguided Angel", The Cowboy Junkies
"Bad Connection", Yaz
O.K., that's 14. Sue me.
"You Only Live Twice", Nancy Sinatra
"Love Song for a Vampire", Annie Lennox
"Come Away With Me", Norah Jones
"The World Spins", Julee Cruise
"Tired Eyes", Containe
"Love is Here Where I Live", Everything But the Girl
"Saints", The Breeders
"Time the Avenger", The Pretenders
"Shame", Low
"Up the Neck", The Pretenders
"Protection", Massive Attack (sung by Tracey Thorn)
"Tom's Diner", DNA (sung by Suzanne Vega)
"Misguided Angel", The Cowboy Junkies
"Bad Connection", Yaz
O.K., that's 14. Sue me.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
How I Learned to Stop Hating and Love the Lads from Manchester
This year marks the 25th anniversary of the first singles by The Smiths, who I've come to declare the greatest English band of the 1980s (R.E.M. and Talking Heads would tie for the American award) and with Steely Dan, my 2 favorite acts of all time.
It also marks the 20th year of my discovery of the band. Now, do the math here: the band only existed for 5 years, at the outside. That's right, I never listened to them while they were current, a mistake I've made up for by listening to them exclusively for weeks at a time over the last 15 years. Which causes the wife grief to no end.
It's not that I didn't try to like them while they were "alive". OK, I spent the first two years hating on them, calling them and their ilk the "aaaahhh" bands - buncha morose mother(crockers) if I'd ever heard any.
But, in 1986, I came across "There is a Light That Never Goes Out" on WLIR, or WDRE (it was both, more than once, I think) and liked it. Now, there were two girls that worked at the same Dunkin' Donuts that I did and I'm gonna etch them into history right here: Anne Marie Tynan and Alicia Montero. They loved, or should I say, lived, what was in the 1980s called "college rock": Echo and the Bunnymen, the Cure, U2 (yes, Virginia, there was a time when Pope Bono wasn't in every issue of Time and Newsweek), Psychedelic Furs, the Jesus and Mary Chain and our lads from Manchester, the Smiths. At this point, the Smiths had eclipsed U2 in their minds because, to them, U2 had gotten away from them - they weren't theirs and theirs alone anymore.
In Almost Famous, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, playing rock critic Lester Bangs, nails the love for music with one line: "The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you're uncool." And that was these two, who I think fondly of from time to time. They are the older sistrrs to the girl in that Pixies doc.
Knowing that, I asked them, "Hey, what's that song about the double-decker bus and the 10-ton truck?" As God is my witness, they looked at me with the straightest face and said they had no idea.
But, they had to know. How couldn't they know? Of course they knew. But they weren't going to let Joe Springsteen Fan with his cracked, faded Asia shirt in to their little world. No way is this guy, who's a little older, with a little more money going to get our ticket to the show. Not when we've put our lunch money together for two weeks to buy an import 12" of "That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore", with its four live tracks from the Oxford Apollo, 3/18/85. Fuck him; let him work harder.
And I let it slide.
Until 1988, when I went over to my friend Joey's house. His younger sister had had a party the night before, and when I came downstairs, he says to me, almost incredulously, "You gotta hear this; someone left this in the cassette player last night." And out of the speakers came the chiming opening chords to "Ask".
Who is this, I asked. Cassette cover in my hand - "Louder than Bombs", a stateside singles/B-side compilation designed to catch us stupid Americans up on what we could have been listening to instead of Baltimora, Corey Hart and the Power Station for the last 3 years.
And we listened. And we got it. And we realized that maybe, just maybe there was a little too much Journey, a few Kenny Loggins songs too many in our lives.
So Anne Marie and Alicia, if you're out there, I figured it out for myself. If all worked out well, your kids are listening to A Place to Bury Strangers and looking crosseyed at the squares who think the Strokes are still cutting edge.
Hang the DJ, hang the DJ, hang the DJ, indeed.
It also marks the 20th year of my discovery of the band. Now, do the math here: the band only existed for 5 years, at the outside. That's right, I never listened to them while they were current, a mistake I've made up for by listening to them exclusively for weeks at a time over the last 15 years. Which causes the wife grief to no end.
It's not that I didn't try to like them while they were "alive". OK, I spent the first two years hating on them, calling them and their ilk the "aaaahhh" bands - buncha morose mother(crockers) if I'd ever heard any.
But, in 1986, I came across "There is a Light That Never Goes Out" on WLIR, or WDRE (it was both, more than once, I think) and liked it. Now, there were two girls that worked at the same Dunkin' Donuts that I did and I'm gonna etch them into history right here: Anne Marie Tynan and Alicia Montero. They loved, or should I say, lived, what was in the 1980s called "college rock": Echo and the Bunnymen, the Cure, U2 (yes, Virginia, there was a time when Pope Bono wasn't in every issue of Time and Newsweek), Psychedelic Furs, the Jesus and Mary Chain and our lads from Manchester, the Smiths. At this point, the Smiths had eclipsed U2 in their minds because, to them, U2 had gotten away from them - they weren't theirs and theirs alone anymore.
In Almost Famous, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, playing rock critic Lester Bangs, nails the love for music with one line: "The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you're uncool." And that was these two, who I think fondly of from time to time. They are the older sistrrs to the girl in that Pixies doc.
Knowing that, I asked them, "Hey, what's that song about the double-decker bus and the 10-ton truck?" As God is my witness, they looked at me with the straightest face and said they had no idea.
But, they had to know. How couldn't they know? Of course they knew. But they weren't going to let Joe Springsteen Fan with his cracked, faded Asia shirt in to their little world. No way is this guy, who's a little older, with a little more money going to get our ticket to the show. Not when we've put our lunch money together for two weeks to buy an import 12" of "That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore", with its four live tracks from the Oxford Apollo, 3/18/85. Fuck him; let him work harder.
And I let it slide.
Until 1988, when I went over to my friend Joey's house. His younger sister had had a party the night before, and when I came downstairs, he says to me, almost incredulously, "You gotta hear this; someone left this in the cassette player last night." And out of the speakers came the chiming opening chords to "Ask".
Who is this, I asked. Cassette cover in my hand - "Louder than Bombs", a stateside singles/B-side compilation designed to catch us stupid Americans up on what we could have been listening to instead of Baltimora, Corey Hart and the Power Station for the last 3 years.
And we listened. And we got it. And we realized that maybe, just maybe there was a little too much Journey, a few Kenny Loggins songs too many in our lives.
So Anne Marie and Alicia, if you're out there, I figured it out for myself. If all worked out well, your kids are listening to A Place to Bury Strangers and looking crosseyed at the squares who think the Strokes are still cutting edge.
Hang the DJ, hang the DJ, hang the DJ, indeed.
A Quick One While I'm Here
As I was on the bus, feeling very...uncharitable towards my fellow man, I took solace, as I always do, in my beloved iPod. And to combat the feelings of misanthropy toward the cretins, um, people, I decided to give back to you, dear reader, in the following way.
You make the playlist. That's right, you title a list - themed, of course (we're literary here!) - and I'll create it from my library.
It could be - "10 Great Guitar Rave-Ups from the 1980s", "12 Songs the Beatles Couldn't Do on Their Best Day" or "15 Terrible Songs from Otherwise Great Albums".
Tell your friends. List early and list often.
Have fun!!
You make the playlist. That's right, you title a list - themed, of course (we're literary here!) - and I'll create it from my library.
It could be - "10 Great Guitar Rave-Ups from the 1980s", "12 Songs the Beatles Couldn't Do on Their Best Day" or "15 Terrible Songs from Otherwise Great Albums".
Tell your friends. List early and list often.
Have fun!!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
loudQUIETloud: A Film About the Pixies
loudQUIETloud (2006, Cantor and Galkin) is a documentary chronicling the 2004 reunion tour of the Pixies. It's nicely paced, with some great character arcs like bassist Kim Deal's dependency on her sister Kelley's presence, as they support each other through sobriety and guitarist Joey Santiago's anchoring himself to the world outside the band by working on a documentary score and webcamming with his family. Actually, all four members rely on something outside the band to get them through this period of time; there's little to no interaction with each other. It's as if they see this as a job, something to get through. That's not to say that they don't do their job well; the performances start off wobbly, but become inspired as the tour moves on.
There's a great sequence in the film, though, that truly makes it worth watching. The filmmakers find a pair of girls, no more than 15 or 16 years old, making them born just as the Pixies were hitting their peak. One of them happened upon a book called Brave New Girl which has a character who's heavily into the Pixies. From this, she got all the Pixies' music and is now in a Pixies cover band. The scene when she gets to meet the band is such an intimate moment for her, I actually felt like a voyeur watching it.
If they left it at that, it would stand as a great film moment. But we get two more beats that play out beautifully. After she meets the band, she slips Kim Deal her highlighted, read-to-death copy of the book. Cut to: back on the bus, Deal flips through it ever so gently, totally aware of the talisman-like power it had on this young girl.
Finally, as the credits start to roll, the filmmakers give us a glimpse of the girl's cover band, reverently playing "Monkey Gone to Heaven" and then splice it seamlessly into the actual band's version. I can't count how many people I've heard say were influenced by the Beatles but I do know I've gagged nearly every time, barely able to get out, "Yeah, who the fuck wasn't?". (Sometimes it's, "I find I stay alive by breathing." but that doesn't get the desired response.) Here, we see how a band takes hold of one's imagination, passion, thoughts - hell, every damned waking moment - without a single cliche. When kids (mostly girls) are 8, 9, 10 they eat, sleep, drink and breathe acts like the Jonas Brothers and Hannah Montana. I've got zero problem with that; quite the contrary, it's a shame how far fewer people develop that kind of passion for bands as they get older. Maybe it's just nature weeding out the true believers.
I hope for two things after watching this doc: that girl never loses the passion and that I get to hear her play someday.
There's a great sequence in the film, though, that truly makes it worth watching. The filmmakers find a pair of girls, no more than 15 or 16 years old, making them born just as the Pixies were hitting their peak. One of them happened upon a book called Brave New Girl which has a character who's heavily into the Pixies. From this, she got all the Pixies' music and is now in a Pixies cover band. The scene when she gets to meet the band is such an intimate moment for her, I actually felt like a voyeur watching it.If they left it at that, it would stand as a great film moment. But we get two more beats that play out beautifully. After she meets the band, she slips Kim Deal her highlighted, read-to-death copy of the book. Cut to: back on the bus, Deal flips through it ever so gently, totally aware of the talisman-like power it had on this young girl.
Finally, as the credits start to roll, the filmmakers give us a glimpse of the girl's cover band, reverently playing "Monkey Gone to Heaven" and then splice it seamlessly into the actual band's version. I can't count how many people I've heard say were influenced by the Beatles but I do know I've gagged nearly every time, barely able to get out, "Yeah, who the fuck wasn't?". (Sometimes it's, "I find I stay alive by breathing." but that doesn't get the desired response.) Here, we see how a band takes hold of one's imagination, passion, thoughts - hell, every damned waking moment - without a single cliche. When kids (mostly girls) are 8, 9, 10 they eat, sleep, drink and breathe acts like the Jonas Brothers and Hannah Montana. I've got zero problem with that; quite the contrary, it's a shame how far fewer people develop that kind of passion for bands as they get older. Maybe it's just nature weeding out the true believers.
I hope for two things after watching this doc: that girl never loses the passion and that I get to hear her play someday.
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