Archive for category Music

We’re beaten and blown by the wind

We're beaten and blown by the wind

I think the happiest moment for a photographer is the moment they KNOW they got the shot that they imagined before they hit the shutter … when the creative and the actual snap together and become one.

This composition has been rattling around in my head since I first saw the arched bridges in photos a friend took at the Chicago show. The way the lean in The Edge’s legs line up with the curve in the railing, the way the body kicks back almost perpendicular to the arc, the highlights from the spotlight … I will swear to the deity of your choice that this is exactly what I wanted.

(OK, the green hue in the background … I’ll credit THAT to serendipity.)

This was one of those perfect moments as a photographer. Everything went into slow motion as the camera locked focus and my trigger finger mashed the shutter button. BAM. Before it came up on the viewfinder I knew I had it.

When I pulled the images up on my computer I didn’t even want to bother processing or uploading any of the other photos. I feel almost like they detract from this one. (But here they are anyway.)

And sweet merciful crap what a stellar show it was … and please play the acoustic version of Stuck in a Moment You Can’t Get Out Of at my funeral.

Austin City Limits Festival 2009

Them Crooked Vultures

It’s been a couple years since I was able to attend the Austin City Limits Festival. This year was a fantastic time to finally get back into the groove. The weather didn’t exactly cooperate (sorry, no photos from Saturday!), but it didn’t ruin the experience, either. (At least, not for me.) The torrential rains seemed to suit Flogging Molly just fine. The subsequent Sunday mudfest … gross, but really nothing more than a stinky, slimy distraction.

Overall, I had a blast. Our crew was up close for Them Crooked Vultures, The Dead Weather and Pearl Jam. It’s hard to complain about that.

To see the slideshow of the pics I got, click here.

I’ve missed you, Austin. I hope to see you again soon.

The Dead Weather - Dean Fertita and Jack White

Heritage

We fought for justice and not for gain

This was my grandmother’s guitar. When she was a teenager she saved her earnings from an entire summer serving lunches and drinks to workers in the fields around her family’s farm to buy it from the Sears catalog.

It originally had a tortoise shell celluloid pick guard that has long since crumbled into innumerable tiny pieces. I suspect the bridge may have been replaced several decades ago. When I first received it I researched old Sears guitars hoping to learn more of the history of this model. Unfortunately the guitar bears virtually no distinguishing markings or characteristics unique to any particular brand.

It is also entirely possible that the family folklore surrounding its acquisition is factually flawed.

Quite honestly, though, this guitar could have been hand crafted by demons in the fiery pits of Hell and handed straight to Robert Johnson by the devil himself and it would not alter its value to me one scintilla. This guitar has a soul — a wicked, yet redemptive soul that is priceless in my eyes.

This guitar is untameable. Due to the odd bridge the strings sit unfathomably high above the fretboard. The player must possess strong hands to keep even the lightest gauge strings pressed against the frets. The frets, made of rough, cheap steel, chew away at your callouses as you play. The tuning pegs may as well be windmills — maintaining consistent pitch is either a quixotic endeavor or a complete waste of time.

Playing this guitar for an hour is like going fifteen rounds with James Braddock while being enticed by the curves of Rita Hayworth. It’s a brutal and exhausting effort — and unquestionably worth it.

Just six strings away from that same ol’ plow

Just six strings away from that same ol' plow

View On Black

My personal Top 20 albums (11-20)

In my previous post I gave you the first 10 of the 20 most influential albums in my life. Here’s the second half. (Remember, these aren’t in any particular order… it was hard enough narrowing it down, much less ranking them.)

11. Neil Young and Crazy Horse – Weld
As a musician, one of the best things about Neil Young is that he can’t decide who the hell he is. One minute he’s giving you Harvest (which almost made this list) and the next you’re getting Zuma or Rust Never Sleeps. When you’re just starting out on guitar and really suck, Needle and the Damage Done is an unreasonable goal. But sweet jeebus, Weld was like finding the freaking Rosetta Stone. Given a guitar that’s even halfway in tune, ANYBODY can sound good playing along with this live album. It was the 1991 equivalent of Guitar Hero. There’s so much noise and feedback and distortion that anybody can hide their suckage in the sonic flotsam and jetsam floating around their ears. (It comes as no surprise that Neil claims he ruined his hearing mixing this album.) So yes, it’s a lot of noise. But it’s sweet, beautiful noise. There’s a difference between this and the heap piles of crap turned out by Sonic Youth (his opening act on the tour during which this album was recorded) — it’s that there’s still an underlying melody to the noise.

Given this album, a dirty distorted guitar, three chords and the truth, any kid can be a rock god in his bedroom for the two hours between when he gets home from school and when his parents come home and make him “turn that racket down.”

We got a thousand points of light
For the homeless man
We got a kinder, gentler, machine gun hand

We got department stores and toilet paper
Got styrofoam boxes for the ozone layer
Got a man of the people sayin’ keep hope alive
Got fuel to burn, got roads to drive.

Keep on rockin’ in the free world.

12. Pearl Jam – TEN
To me, this is the perfect grunge era album. I know others would say Nirvana’s Nevermind should belong here, but quite frankly that’s a “Coke vs. Pepsi” argument — and while in the world of soft drinks the clear answer is Coke (unless you’re a pinko commie Jeff Gordon loving yankee dimwit), in the case of those two albums it comes down to personal preference. My circle of friends much preferred Pearl Jam. You know those memories of your youth that are just like snapshots of your life, rather than full stories? Several of those moments in my life are punctuated by songs from this album. Evenflow will always remind me of sitting in the front of Greg’s dad’s boat, skipping across the choppy water of Joe Pool Lake trying to get a former offensive lineman from Auburn up on skis. (That memory is made more vivid by the fact that it was one of the first times we were ever accompanied by actual girls in actual bathing suits.) Jeremy will always remind me of a car full of teenagers awkwardly self-censoring the lyrics as “gnashed his teeth and bit the recess lady’s … NOSE!” in an attempt to escape the wrath of a disapproving parent. Alive will always remind me of sitting in my friend Lee’s backyard and our duo doing a semi-impromtu “unplugged” gig to impress a couple cute girls from school … and their boyfriends, if I recall correctly. Anyway, the point is that it wouldn’t matter what Kurt Cobain did or didn’t do, in my mind he’ll always be playing second fiddle to Eddie and the boys.

Clearly I remember
Pickin’ on the boy
Seemed a harmless little FREAK
But we unleashed a lion
Gnashed his teeth
And bit the recess lady’s NOSE

13. The Beach Boys – Endless Summer
Yes, it’s another compilation. And yes, it only contains pre-Pet Sounds
material. However, my appreciation for good melodies and close harmonies can be traced back in no small part to this album. I don’t really remember listening to much "children’s music" when I was a kid. I’m sure I probably did to some extent, but I don’t remember much Sesame Street or Raffi or anything like that. I know I wore out my Snoopy vs. The Red Baron single (check out the video on YouTube) on my Fisher-Price record player, but for the most part I remember a lot more "kid-safe" adult music. Driving around town in the back seat of Mom’s Monte Carlo we were usually pacified by the sounds of the Beach Boys or Neil Sedaka or motown hits. And the Beach Boys were my favorite. In fact, the earliest concert I remember attending was a post-game Beach Boys concert at Arlington Stadium. Even late into the elementary school years Greg Stone and I spent more than a few endless summer afternoons laying on the bedroom floor playing with Legos and singing along with the Wilsons, et al. We got to where we had specific parts. I’d usually go high and Greg would go low. If you ever hear new music that has Brian Wilson style harmonies, send it my way. Chances are good I’ll probably love it.

Well I’m not braggin’ babe so don’t put me down
But I’ve got the fastest set of wheels in town
When something comes up to me he don’t even try
Cause if I had a set of wings man I know she could fly
She’s my little deuce coupe
You don’t know what I got

14. Alabama – The Closer You Get and Mountain Music and My Home’s in Alabama

Oh I’ll speak my Southern English just as natural as I please
I’m in the heart of Dixie, Dixie’s in the heart of me

I can’t separate these three albums. They might as well be one triple album to me. My sister and I must have listened to these records a hundred thousand times growing up. The needle would hit the groove on the first side and we’d sing along and run around the living room in circles until we fell over or got sick. (Whichever came first.) But this isn’t just a nice piece of nostalgia to me. This may be overproduced pop country, but it’s still damn fine music.

I think if this "work" thing doesn’t pan out I’m just going to start an Alabama cover band and hit the road.

Whitetail buck deer munchin on clover, redtail hawk settin on a limb
Chubby old groundhog, croakin bullfrog, free as the feelin in the wind
Home grown country girl
Gonna give me a whirl
On a tennessee saturday night
Lucky as a seven
Livin’ in heaven
With my dixieland delight

15. Johnny Cash – At Folsom Prison

I can’t imagine the stones it must’ve taken to make this concert happen. And I’ll never forget the chills I got the first time listened to the line “I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.” Nor the second dose of chills I got a few listens later when I realized the cheers that line got from the inmates.

Now I’m gonna shut up on this one and let other people speak.

I bet there’s rich folk eatin’ in a fancy dining car.
They’re prob’ly drinkin’ coffee and smokin’ big cigars,
But I know I had it comin’, I know I can’t be free,
But those people keep a movin’, and that’s what tortures me.

16. Weezer – “The Blue Album”
My write-up for this album o’ geek anthems took me longer to write than most of the others on this list because I am listening to each of these albums as I write. Despite the fact that this is probably the shortest album on the list, it was hard to actually do the writing since every time I started to type I’d get the undeniable urge to pick up the guitar and strum along. This was one of about 4 CDs I copied to tape and ALWAYS had in the glove box of my little blue truck just in case the urge struck. Weezer sounded especially good on that sound system. Most of my high school garage bands could play this album — Say It Ain’t So was a signature song for one of them.

Thanks to My Name is Jonas this album took on a new life for me my freshman year of college. An organization I was involved in had coffeehouse-style performances at their retreats and pretty much anybody who could play anything would get up on stage and do something. After a bit of pushing and prodding by friends I got up there and did a pretty killer solo acoustic version of the song. (Thanks in no small part to a high degree of audience participation.) That led into a Polyphonic Spree-eque performance of The Violent Femmes’ Blister in the Sun wherein half the audience — 30-odd people (or 30 odd people, take your pick) rushed the stage and grabbed various instruments and “things to bang on” and played along. But a bunch of us bonded over Weezer. In high school a handful of us liked Weezer. Here I had found a crowd. Bless you, TmfH.

I’ve got an electric guitar
I play my stupid songs
I write these stupid words
And I love every one
Waiting there for me
Yes I do, I do

In the garage
I feel safe
No one cares about my ways
In the garage
Where I belong
No one hears me sing this song
In the garage
In the garage


17. Sloan – Navy Blues
If you listened to most of your music on the radio I’m sure that this is probably the first band on my list that you had to stop and ask yourself if you’d even heard of them before. Well, if you’re a radio person, no, you probably haven’t. (They’re Canadian and they’re not Sarah McLachlan or Rush.)

My parents were one of the first people in the neighborhood to ditch cable, and in 1998ish you could get this fantastic Canadian version of MTV that actually played music videos all the time. And these videos weren’t the garbage you’d see on TRL. Greg (once again) and I were playing cards or something late one night with that channel on the tv in the background and the following video came on the tube:

Unfortunately, we missed the tag at the very beginning of the intro that said the name of the band — and I NEEDED this album more than I had ever needed anything in my life up to that point. This was new and different. This was a full year before anyone had heard of the White Stripes. (And at least three years before White Blood Cells.) This was a full five years before Jet debuted with Get Born. Nobody had made shit like this since Bullitt was still in theaters.

And we had no clue who we had just seen. We just knew it was incredible. And all we had to go off of was the name on the drum kit: Andy Sabola.

This was before Google could answer any question in the known universe. We had SOME ability to search the interwebs, but that name drew a complete blank everywhere we looked. You couldn’t find it at Blockbuster Music. You couldn’t find it at Forever Young. You couldn’t find it anywhere.

As it turns out, Andy Sabola is the guy that Sloan’s drummer bought his used drum kit off of and he thought it would be funny to leave the name on there.

It took us several months to track down this band. I eventually lucked into finding the CD at a store while looking for something else and thinking the album art looked kind of like the video I remembered.

You may have noticed from the video (and if you haven’t watched it yet you should be ashamed of yourself), this band has a real knack for those elusive little buggers music critics like to call “pop hooks.” The whole album’s like that. It’s one hook after another, and they’re all just SO. DAMN. GOOD. Click through on the album or the link above to listen to a few of the other clips from the album. You’ll be glad you did.

We’re still the same
After all these years
It’s funny how you get a feel for it
When you finally lose your sense of fear

When Iggy said it’s loose down on the street
Living in the city
And everything went black ’cause it’s in my eyes
Everything denied

Well, Kurt’s still cool and Angus rules
I’m gonna plug it in again


18. Barenaked Ladies – Rock Spectacle
Speaking of Canadians, I picked up this album because a girl I had a crush on in college said that if I liked Ben Folds I would probably like Barenaked Ladies. I do pretty much anything that smart, attractive women tell me to do, so of course I had to check them out. I had heard about them long before this, but never had the proper motivation to think of them as anything but a band that played fun, gimmicky songs like If I Had a Million Dollars. So I popped in this CD and liked what I heard. Brian Wilson hit most of the right chords with me: solidly crafted song, pop culture trivia, etc. But then the player got to track 5 — When I Fall — and I was completely mesmerized.

I was nearly driven to the loony bin trying to figure out the guitar intro. I immediately went straight to the internet, to utilize it for its originally intended purpose: looking up homemade guitar tabs. Unfortunately, nobody had cracked this one yet. The best I could find was some guy who basically just said, “It’s sorta in the key of E. Good luck.” Again, this is before the days of Google or YouTube, or artists doing anything like THIS on the internet:

Had videos like this existed in 1997 I’m sure that I would have found it in short order and had the song aced in no time flat.

Then I stumbled on what I thought was yet another “unofficial internet fan site” for the band that actually listed an email address at the record label for Ed Robertson — the guy in the video above. He’s the bandmember who wrote and performs most of the “magic” in this song.

Figuring I had nothing to lose, I shot off an email to the address that opened with an apology in the likely event I was accidentally writing the Ed Robertson who is a dentist in Saskatoon instead of the Ed Robertson who is the member of a rock band. Then I told him how enamored I was with the song, and how much it inspired me, and asked if there was any way he could point me in a direction on how to figure the song out — something simple like just let me know if it’s capoed and how the first chord is fingered … you know, if he didn’t mind.

The next morning I got a response. From the man himself. He not only told me where to start and gave me a few pointers, he also went to the trouble to scan the sheet music and attach it! He then told me where I could get the book with the music for the entire album and thanked me.

I was stunned. What gold-selling artist (the next album went platinum) takes the time to have that sort of personal interaction with a random fan? Nicest freaking guy in music. And this was back in the days before Napster taught everyone how to steal music and artists HAD to start appreciating their fans.

But seriously, by this time I had been working for over a year on concert promotion at A&M and I had brushed elbows with quite a few famous musicians. Really only a few are assholes. Most are actually pretty nice people, and they got into music because they love it. Most people who do what they love for a living are generally pretty happy. But few musicians of that level have the time, much less the inclination, to do something like what he did, and I was very grateful.

A year or two later I saw BNL at the Horde Festival. As luck would have it, the band had an autograph signing session. This was after Stunt came out and so the line was a total zoo. But I waited in it not so I could get anything signed (though I did anyway), but just so I could thank Ed for that bit of kindness he showed me. He actually remembered the exchange, “Oh yeah! I had the book there, and the scanner, and so I just figured, ‘Why not?’” We ended up chatting about it for a couple of minutes until their tour manager scolded us for holding up the line.

As a lesson for all of you budding musicians out there (or aging musicians suing your fans), though Ed gave away the secret to that song for free, it was repaid to him at least 30 fold later on. After that I bought their entire back catalogue, every CD since then, and hundreds of dollars of concert tickets. Being a supremely nice guy wins you fans for life.

She wrote me a letter as big as a phonebook
I’ve never been big on mail
I sent her a postcard from somewhere near Lethbridge
And wondered if it still went by rail
I’ve never been frightened of being enlightened
But some things can go too far
Though sometimes I stammer and mix up my grammar,
You get what my meanings are

These apples are delicious!
As a matter of fact they are, she said
Can all this fruit be free?

19. The Band – Music From Big Pink
“Back in 1967 or ‘68 I had a record called Music From Big Pink and it changed my life. It changed the course of American music.”
– Eric Clapton

That endorsement was good enough for me.

Big Pink has such a laid-back rootsy sound that it’s hard not to love it. The Weight is the classic that everyone points to on this album, but to me the greatest gem is on side two. You’ll not hear a better version of Long Black Veil than the one you’ll find here.

The remastered disc issued in 2000 includes a bunch of outtakes that are just as good as the rest of the originally released material. I especially love Orange Juice Blues, which I listened to nearly every morning for three months when my job (and a few other things) were completely beating me down five or six years ago. The vocal inflections on that recording are therapeutic.

This album also reminds me of my dear friend Sophie, who was one of the first people I knew who had the same sort appreciation for it that I did.

There was a time in my life, back in my snobbier days, when I would sometimes weed out potential dates based on whether or not they were familiar with this album. It probably wasn’t the smartest policy, but it never failed me. Any gal who loves this album is worth knowing.


20. Fleetwood Mac – The Dance
I know, I know. This should be Rumours, right?

Well, not in my case. This album has the meat of Rumours on it, so that aspect is pretty much covered, but most importantly, the version of Big Love on this album is one of the most wonderful things ever recorded. The rest of the album is so freaking good, too; It’s one of the best live albums ever made, period. From the time that this CD was released until the iPod became my primary music machine in the car, this disc pretty much never came out of slot 6 in the changer.

But back to Big Love.

I knew of Fleetwood Mac. I knew of Lindsey Buckingham. I liked it all. I sang along with it in the car. Then in 1997 I’m sitting in a friend’s dorm room with a guitar in my lap and MTV is on the tube. It’s a pretty typically boring spring semester night. And then the made for MTV concert special for “The Dance” came on the tube. So we’re watching that. And it’s pretty good. We comment about how we hadn’t realized how much we kinda missed this band.

Then Lindsey Buckingham goes out on stage by himself and does this:
http://www.kewego.fr/video/iLyROoaftTas.html

Once I picked my jaw up off the floor I put the guitar down and I don’t think I touched it for a two weeks.

It was one of those, “I’ll never be able to do that, so why I should I even bother?” moments.

A couple years later my fingerpicking had improved pretty dramatically (thanks in no small part to my attempts at the aforementioned BNL song) and I decided I was going to give Big Love a shot. After a year or so of playing it every time I picked up the guitar as my “warm up” song I actually got it pretty well nailed down. Of all of the little personal achievements in my life, this is one of the ones I’m most proud of.

I wish I had recorded it. You HAVE to practice this song frequently to stay good at it. Now I kind of sloppily fumble through it.


So there you go. That’s my top 20. Maybe someday if I’m motivated I’ll put up a few honorable mentions I thought of while making this list.

My personal top 20 albums (1-10)

There’s been this thing floating around the last week or so where people list their personal favorite or most influential 10, 15, 20 albums. Here (more or less) is my attempt at compiling that list, and some commentary on each. These aren’t in any order, because I would probably have an easier time choosing my favorite child (if I had any) than my favorite album.

1. Bob Dylan The 30th Anniversary Concert Celebration
Okay, I think I’ve already lied. This is my favorite album. In most list-making circumstances, picking this would be cheating, though. It’s sort of a compilation. It has nearly every music legend prior to 1993 on it. My Back Pages alone has The Traveling Wilburys plus Eric Clapton, Roger McGuinn and Neil Young. In the last few years my guitar playing skills have started to slide (not enough practice), but I still think I could nail every note of Clapton and Young’s solos in that song. When this album came out I was just the right age to start thinking I really “got” Bob Dylan, and listening to the performances from this concert I could tell that his music meant something incredibly special to a lot of other people, too. I had always appreciated cover songs, but this album turned that appreciation into a fascination. You can learn a lot about someone by seeing how they interpret someone else’s art. Clapton’s take on Don’t Think Twice It’s Alright turns a bittersweet sentimental ballad into heartachingly forceful electric blues. I wish I could have seen a Johnny Winter concert back when he was as sharp as he was when he covered Highway 61 Revisited here. Richie Havens will leave your jaw on the floor with his cover of Just Like A Woman. The Clancy Brothers’ version of When The Ship Comes In may be the best drinking song ever. Lou Freaking Reed. This two disc CD was the best $27.99 I ever spent in my entire life. (Yes, that’s what it cost at Musicland back then.)

I was so much older then. I’m younger than that now.

2. U2 – Joshua Tree
Since 1987 this album has been consistently within the top 5 of my “all time desert island favorites” list, and has never wavered. To be honest, it’s never been below #3. I don’t expect it ever will be. Where the Streets Have No Name may be the greatest opening track to ever grace a pop album. With or Without You is … is … There really aren’t words. That’s a song that stands alone in the pantheon of great rock songs. It’s inimitable. You know every band would love to rip off the feel of that song, but can’t. And despite not really being a “concept album” this whole disc flows like it could be. This is one album I refuse to listen to in shuffle play. It goes in sequence.

You take the staircase to the first floor
Turn the key and slowly unlock the door
As a man breathes into a saxophone
And through the walls you hear the city groan
Outside is America
Outside is America

3. U2 – Achtung Baby
My friend Jason and I have had a nearly 15-year-long running debate as to whether Joshua Tree or Achtung Baby is the superior album. I truly believe in my heart that Joshua Tree is #1. I think part of it is that to me, Joshua Tree seems more like The Edge’s album, whereas Achtung Baby is much more Bono. (And I’ve always felt a bit of a kinship with The Edge for some reason.) Joshua Tree is more sparse, intentional and layered. Achtung Baby is more dynamic, diverse and dramatic. It’s reflected even in the album covers. Joshua Tree is a black and white photo of the band in the nearly alien landscape of the Mojave desert and framed with a field of black, while Achtung Baby is, well, all over the fucking place. Each of these two albums has their place. But Joshua Tree is more my style. With all that said, one of my all time greatest musical regrets is that I wasn’t able to see U2 on the Zoo TV tour. I’ve seen them on EVERY tour since, but don’t think that any of those experiences will trump what this tour has been built up to be in my mind.

Nothin much to say I guess
Just the same as all the rest
Been trying to throw your arms around the world
A woman needs a man
Like a fish needs a bicycle
When you’re trying to throw your arms around the world

4. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers Greatest Hits
Again, I think it’s usually considered cheating when you put a greatest hits compilation on any sort of “top anything” list. (Not that I won’t do it a couple more times in this one.) But this album holds a special place in my heart. There was quite a long period in high school where this disc never came out of the CD player. Nearly every one of my shitty garage bands had (at least) one of the songs from this album as a set list mainstay. I think my Telecaster was MADE to play Mary Jane’s Last Dance. If I’m having a bad day I’ll lock myself in my studio and play American Girl until my fingers give out. Apparently, the version of this album that I have is out-of-print now. The album art on mine had a picture of the band in the studio lighting what we can only assume are cigarettes, and it had a cover of Thunderclap Newman’s Something In The Air instead of the Stevie Nicks collaboration.

Baby, even the losers get lucky sometimes
Even the losers keep a little bit of pride
They get lucky sometimes

5. Led Zeppelin IV aka Zoso aka Runes aka untitled aka Man With Sticks
I first heard this album at Greg Stone’s house. I think his dad owned like seven copies of it. (And at least two copies of Sticky Fingers with the working zipper!) Despite the fact that I REFUSED to learn Stairway because I thought it was cliche to do so (and not because of the joke in Wayne’s World), that didn’t stop me from attempting to learn every other song on the album. And I remember THE DAY that I got my first computer with a sound card Greg and I stayed up all night ripping Stairway onto the hard drive in 20 second chunks, reversing them and listening for secret messages. After all of that effort I think that if Led Zepp WAS trying to hide satanic verses in the song they did a really shitty job of it. But played FORWARD this album is still totally epic.

Why don’t you take a good look at yourself and describe what you see,
and baby, baby, baby, do you like it?
There you sit, sitting spare like a book on a shelf rustin’,
ah, not trying to fight it.
You really don’t care if they’re comin’
I know that it’s all a state of mind.

6. Queen – A Kind of Magic
When my friend John turned 14 he took the whole gang to see Wayne’s World for his birthday. When it got to the Bohemian Rhapsody scene I busted out laughing the second I saw the tape. You see, I was one of the few nerdy teens I knew who was already well-versed in the greatness that was Queen. I first picked them up many years prior thanks to what was my favorite movie when I was 10: Iron Eagle. (Trust me, that movie doesn’t hold up today.) That movie led to my love of this album (and all things Queen) — despite the fact that A Kind of Magic is essentially the soundtrack for the movie Highlander.

Queen is an odd case. This band is simultaneously universally acclaimed and severely underrated. No band short of the Beatles or the Stones has had as much influence on the music you hear today, but they rarely get as much credit for their influence, which was far-reaching both musically and technologically. Metal to power pop to country, you name a genre — Queen’s left their mark.

Gimme one light
Gimme one hope
Just gimme
One man one man
One bar one night
One day hey hey
Just gimme gimme gimme gimme
Fried chicken

7. Ben Folds Five – Ben Folds Five
In the summer of 1995 Greg Stone and I were at a music store that had “listening stations” amongst the racks of CDs. I was standing somewhere in the C’s and Greg motioned me over to the listening station a few feet to my left, handed me the gigantic, crappy, oil-smudged KOSS headphones and said, “You need to hear this.”

That moment changed my life.

That album was so remarkably different from anything else I had ever heard up to that point in my life. There we were in the days of grunge — wearing flannel in August — and this melody-driven piano music hits me from out of nowhere. I felt something in my gut that I hadn’t felt since listening to Queen 5 years before, or The Beach Boys a decade earlier. Melody! Harmony! Lyrics that weren’t a bunch of random nonsense! MUSIC!

This album is #1 on my “all time desert island top 5″ list, and always will be.

I feel like a quote out of context, withholding the rest
So I can be for you what you want to see
I got the gestures and sounds, got the timing down
It’s uncanny, yeah, you’d think it was me

Do you think I should take a class
To lose my southern accent?
Did I make me up
Or make the face ’til it stuck?
I do the best imitation of myself.

8. Eric Clapton – The Cream of Clapton

CLAPTON IS GOD.

Also, this is the album (yes, another Greatest Hits compilation) that is most responsible for me picking up the guitar. In the 8th or 9th grade Greg and I started trying to play music ourselves. He got a frankenguitar that was mostly a Fender Squier Bullet. (Yes, that spelling is correct.) I picked up a cheap Ibanez bass soon thereafter. A funny thing happened when we got together, though. We each found it more fun to play the other’s instrument. (The grass is always greener, right?) And this Clapton album got me completely hooked on guitar. I got it so I could try to figure out how to play Badge. (Still one of the best bass songs around.) Then I figured out how to play a crude version of the guitar part to Layla on my bass and soon tried to convert it over to its proper instrument. Sunshine of Your Love was next. Then Crossroads. Then White Room. It was all downhill from there.

Clapton was a gateway drug. He introduced me to Buddy Guy, JJ Cale, Freddie King, Albert King, every other bluesman named King except B.B. (my uncle gets credit for that one), Bob Marley, Pink Floyd, Zappa … the list could go on and on.

Now I know the secret; there is nothing that I lack.
If I give my love to you, you’ll surely give it back.
Let it rain, let it rain,
Let your love rain down on me.

9. Jimi Hendrix – Electric Ladyland
Like I said, Clapton was a gateway drug. And Clapton naturally led to Jimi. And to a 14 year old guitar player Jimi is a mind-expanding acid trip and a speedball rocket trip to the moon at the same time. And here’s where the cover song fascination comes back in, as well. I think if you’re from my generation you had probably heard All Along the Watchtower umpteen billion times before some Baby Boomer set you straight and told you that it was a cover of a Bob Dylan song. And that’s perfectly understandable. It’s like learning that diamonds and coal are the same element. Or that Soylent Green is people. If you didn’t have reason to know, why would you?

Add to that Crosstown Traffic, Voodoo Child and Gypsy Eyes and you have a recipe for magic.

I was recently given an original vinyl of this album (the one with the nekkid ladies on it) and it is one of my most cherished possessions.

I’m not the only soul who’s accused of hit and run
Tire tracks all across your back
I can see you had your fun
But darlin’ can’t you see?
My signals turn from green to red
And with you I can see a traffic jam straight up ahead

10. Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble – Couldn’t Stand the Weather
Jimi naturally leads to Stevie. (Especially if you grew up in Dallas.) Of all his albums, this one is my favorite. And it’s no coincidence that it includes a cover of Voodoo Child (Slight Return). But it’s totally different thing than Jimi’s cover of Dylan. Jimi transformed All Along the Watchtower into something completely different. What Stevie did with Voodoo Child was take the original (a perfect 10 by all accounts) and kick it up a notch (to a Nigel Tufnel approved 11). It’s so incredibly faithful to the original, yet takes each note and lovingly pushes it just a bit further. I know some purists get upset with this kind of assertion, but I think SRV’s version is better. With that said, my favorite SRV song is Couldn’t Stand the Weather. I just love the riffs in that sucker.

I really meant I was sorry
For ever causing you pain
You showed your appreciation
By walking out anyway

And that’s a cold shot, baby
Yeah that’s a drag



Continue to 11-20.

Black Keys, Black Cojones

My friend Brad drove up from Houston on Friday and while the rest of you suckers were watching the debate, the two of us went to see the Black Keys. They played at the Granada Theater, and it was freaking PACKED. Not quite Robert Randolph at Trees packed, but still possibly beyond fire code. The people on the floor were squeezed in tight. Brad and I stood at the back of the balcony under the ginormous fans, and we were happy. (And could see.)

The opening act, Jessica Mayfield, was a horrible match for this show. Maybe if I were in a different mood I would have enjoyed it, but she was like an Emo Emmy Lou Harris and Gramm Parsons minus Gramm Parsons and plus a gram of heroin. It was twangy slow ethereal music and it made me want to just lie down in the back and take a nap until Dan and Pat hit the stage or until I died, whichever came first.

Thank goodness they eventually did hit the stage. The Keys were EXCELLENT. It was probably their 2nd best show since ACL a couple years ago when my friend Sophie (thankfully) made us camp out in front of the stage. They sounded fantastic (good sound man, for sure) and they played almost the entire Rubber Factory and Thickfreakness albums. It was so, so, so damn good.

The only bummer of the whole thing was that I was pretty sore, and standing that long kinda hurt, so I would occasionally squat down or lean on the railing in front of me and watch more over my shoulder than straight ahead.

But wait…

Why was I sore you ask? Did I leave out an essential part of the story?

Yes. Yes I did.

Friday afternoon I cleaned up the guest room where Brad was going to sleep. I’ve got a queen sized bed in there on which I had been piling all sorts of stuff the last couple of weeks, because it was a convenient place to pile things that was out of the way. I’m sure you all have similarly convenient piling places and can sympathize. Anyway, I got the bed cleaned off, and put on fresh sheets.

Then I called Brad to see how close he was so I could determine if I had enough time to take a shower before he got here or if I was gonna have to put a “come on in” note on the door.

He was in Hillsboro, so I had like 45-60-minutes before he showed. COOL. So I figured, hey, I’ve got a little extra time, I’ll use this opportunity to put a couple of mousetraps up in the attic. (I don’t think I have mice in my attic, but I just wanted to be extra sure. I’ve heard scratching up above my bed a couple mornings in a row, but I think it’s actually a squirrel in the rain gutter … But just to be sure…) SO ANYWAY, I get my couple of traps and a flashlight and I climb up in the attic and very cautiously begin tiptoeing my way from beam to beam towards my bedroom in the back corner of the house.

Then, I bumped my head on a roof joist and lost my balance. My right foot slipped off the beam and onto the sheetrock.

The world.
                 went.
                                  into.
                                                                    slow.
                                                                                                      motion.

It was like in the old Road Runner cartoons when Wile E. Coyote runs out across the canyon and there’s a delay of a couple of seconds before he looks down and THEN falls.

In this like 5 seconds (which was in reality like .005 seconds) my brain calculated that this sheetrock could not support my weight. It also then calculated that I was essentially screwed anyway, because there was no way I’d be able to LIFT that foot without “pushing off” to lift it.

So the ceiling DID in fact give way, and in a grand and dramatic fashion my right leg led the rest of the right half of my body in a mad dash for the floor 10 feet below.

Unfortunately, the right half of my body was (and still is) attached to the LEFT half of my body. And the left half of my body was trying to compensate for the sudden balance shift that had just occurred and my left leg slipped to the LEFT side of the beam I had been (partially) standing on. The left leg immediately punched through the sheetrock and essentially decided that this must be a race for the floor.

The middle half (yes, I wouldn’t have thought I had three halves before this moment either) sadly did not get the memo. It decided it was not having anything to do with this race and SUDDENLY STOPPED on the beam on which I had been standing.

The Three Stooges made crotch injuries seem so glamorously funny.

I probably hung there for five minutes wondering if I was going to die from internal bleeding and this was how my body would be found.

Once the blinding pain subsided to a mere severely throbbing death wish and my vision began to return, I pulled myself up, looked down into the gaping maw which had tried to swallow me, and screamed what very well may have been the loudest obscenities in the history of mankind. It’s quite possible you heard them.

I climbed back down out of the attic, still cussing like a sailor (who also happened to have searing pain in his crotchular area) and slammed every damned ladder and door in my path. I walked into the house to survey the damage.

This is what I saw:

hole in the ceiling

Yes. That’s the newly cleaned guest bed.

Yes, the one with the freshly washed and changed sheets.

Yes, that’s about 50 gallons of fiberglass insulation.

Yes, Brad laughed non-stop for about 15 minutes when he got here.

So.

The good news is, my testicles are fine.

But before Friday if I had heard anyone utter the phrase “Bruised Taint” I would have assumed it was the name of a crappy punk band.

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Monday Music Break

Enjoy this fantastic cover of one of the greatest guitar songs ever recorded.

Because sometimes you just have one of those “Lebowski Moments”

One of my top 5 favorite movies of all time is The Big Lebowski.

I’m sure that my loyal readers, both of you, are shocked to hear this.

I absolutely love the scene which generates the following dialogue, resulting in the dude indeed getting kicked out of the cab he had hired:

The Dude: Jesus, man, could you change the channel?
Cab Driver: Fuck you man. If you don’t like my fuckin’ music get your own fuckin’ cab!
The Dude: I had a rough…
Cab Driver: I pull over and kick your ass out!
The Dude: Come on, man. I had a rough night and I hate the fuckin’ Eagles, man!

Personally, I love the Eagles. But I can totally relate to the way The Dude is feeling here.

You see, deep within every music lover resides a deep hatred for one or two acts that everyone else might seem to believe are the quintessential examples of rock and roll perfection. Usually you tolerate them on the radio, or in social settings. You may even know all the words to their songs, after all, as well-loved as they are you may have heard them with enough frequency to commit them to memory.

Then, one day, when you’ve had a particularly rough go of things, you’ll find yourself in a mood where you’re just NOT GOING TO PUT UP WITH IT TODAY.

Today Merlin Mann posted something on Twitter that unleashed my inner Dudeness.

This.

Seriously. Click through on that link. I promise it’s not a Rickroll. I’ll be here when you get back.

OK, did we all make it back? Good.

SWEET JUMPING JEHOSEPHUCK, WHO THE HELL GETS A BOB FUCKING SEGER TATTOO?!?!

Did they know this was Bob Seger and not Bob Saget?

Bob Seger
Bob Seger is at the top of my list of “get kicked out of the cab” artists. I’m not sure exactly what it is about his music that particularly irritates me. It’s OK. I just don’t find it particularly good. And maybe that’s it — that he has squandered his fame with dizzying volumes of mediocrity.

(I’ve always found that song title to be a bit ironic, since you could probably name any song on any of his albums “Still the Same” … every one of them feels like it’s the same as the one before to me.)

I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who think that not liking Bob Seger probably makes me a communist or something. Just to reassure those people, let me state for the record that I prefer Coke over Pepsi (and will take RC if you’ve got it), I pull for Dale Earnhardt Jr., and I drive a bigass American pick’em up truck.

Are we cool? Good.

So who else is on my list? Who else might you be wise to avoid putting on the iPod if I’m carpooling with you? I’ll give you two:

1 – Eddie Money
To be perfectly honest, I find Eddie Money more objectionable than Bob Seger. He may be the nicest guy in the music business for all I know, but I just find every song I’ve ever heard of his to be absolutely dreadful. I think it’s no coincidence that “Two Tickets to Paradise” is the theme song for the most retarded show in the reality TV genre: Paradise Hotel.

2 – Jackson Browne
I know I’m supposed to like Jackson Browne. I just don’t. And he’s a good songwriter. I can objectively admit this. In fact, I love “Take It Easy,” which he co-wrote with Glenn Frey for The Eagles. And I understand he had a hand in making America’s “Sister Golden Hair,” which is a total hit with me as well. Both of those songs get very high marks from me.

I don’t know what it is, but there’s just something about Jackson Browne that seems to irritate me personally. It’s like he’s that guy everybody knew in high school who was overly friendly with everybody. So much so that it was kinda creepy. Then you find out at your high school reunion that the guy grew up to be an anesthesiologist and lost his license for taking pictures of his patients’ naughty parts after he’d knocked them out. I dunno. There’s just this vibe about him that weirds me out.

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Prince + Creep = Sticky Meat (in the bad way)

A couple of friends have forwarded me this video (which I’m sure will be taken down from YouTube by the IP police shortly) of Prince covering Radiohead’s “Creep” at Coachella. It’s been making the rounds on the internets this evening with comments like “EPIC!” and “OMFGTHISISTHEBESTCOVEREVERNOSERIOUSLYEVER!”

I respectfully disagree. It has some fantastic elements, no doubt. (I do absolutely love the guitar solo.) But the rest of it kinda makes me want to shove a screwdriver in my ears.

  1. Jesus Christ, GET TO THE POINT Mr. Nelson! This song should not be seven minutes long. And this is coming from a guy who just saw RUSH and loved it, for chrissake. The arc of the original song truly WAS epic. This stretches it to the point it feels belabored.
  2. I love Prince. I love Creep. But this is not a case of “two great tastes that taste great together.” This is like combining filet mignon and vanilla ice cream. They’re both wonderful things, but are not meant to be eaten together. (Come to think of it, that wouldn’t be kosher, anyway.) The ice cream will melt, and then you’re just left with sticky meat.
  3. This song was not meant to be sung sans the F-word. Seriously. It ruins one of the most poetic uses of the word in modern pop music. (On a similar note I liked Prince better back when he was a little – or a lot – naughty. The mischief is gone, and with it, some of the magic.)
  4. The original song has some of the best dynamics in modern pop music. This doesn’t crescendo in nearly the same way. The way the original builds up, the chorus hits you like a ten pound sledgehammer to the chest. But then it lets you down softly and you “float like a feather” back to the ground. Prince’s version seems almost binary in comparison.

I dunno. Maybe I’m being overly critical or a little harsh. Maybe it will grow on me. (I’ll listen to it again for the guitar work.) But this just rubs me the wrong way.

And now may all of my friends who believe that neither Prince nor Radiohead are capable of doing any wrong let loose with all of the “You just don’t get it! This is absolutely brilliant!” comments.

Like I said, I love them both, but this just ain’t right.

UPDATE: Found another video of the performance (Which is also sure to disappear from the interwebs.)

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