Happy One Year Anniversary! I got nine left to make this happen...;-)
#95) "Spaghetti Western" by The Brains - Another shot of adrenaline for long driving stretches - maybe that stretch of I-70 that goes on for 1,000 barren light years through Utah without a single place to stop and pee - Spaghetti Western bursts out of the gate, hits the ground running, rises in intensity, and stands its ground until the last note. It is a well-timed musical engine puttering along on the power of singer Rene D La Muerte's aggressive vocals.
And Spaghetti Western sounds like more than a few relationships I've had in my life, engines that were not so well-timed. Nothing like bringing all the untenable situations of my life along with me on a 14,000 mile road trip. ;-)
"There's only room one of us, is that what we should be...?"
#96) "Suspicious Minds' by Elvis Presley - Once a while back, Suspicious Minds played at work, and a kid who worked for me listened a moment, then remarked, "This song reminds me of the movie Lilo and Stitch."
Several months later, it happened again, different kid, but the same song and same movie reference.
Apparently Suspicious Minds, along with several other Elvis songs, can be found on the soundtrack of the 2002 movie. This is not the first time something like this has happened, nor is it all that unusual, nor do I mean to pick on Lilo and Stitch. But in recent years I have noticed that many of the Millennial generation - those born after 1984, and especially post-1990 - recognize music - even some of their own music - only through the vast store of movies and cartoon videos they grew up with, and that is a new phenomenon.
As a Gen X'er who was a kid in the 70s and early 80s, I got a little taste of this. Videos were certainly around, but there weren't nearly as many, and they were not readily for sale. Video stores were the only place to acquire one, primarily by renting, and it was a special thing, a big deal. There were no extensive collections of movies displayed on living room shelves at the time, at least not in my house. For that matter, there were no 180 cable channels or satellite television (that didn't require a six-figure income and 5 acres of land just for the dish). Among the channels that existed, there were none (outside of pay channels like HBO) devoted solely to cartoons or movies, and the 24-hour all-access the Internet provides nowadays was completely unheard of. Cartoons were still a Saturday morning thing. Feature length movies of any kind were still a 'Special Television Presentation' on Friday, Saturday or Sunday night. And while it was possible to record something off TV, programming a VCR really was no simple process, certainly not a matter of 'point and click' like a DVR today.
All of it meant that music was almost entirely heard on the radio, and of course MTV (back when the 'M' still meant something...), and therefore, I theorize, still being absorbed organically.
These days, so many songs are co-opted for other uses, and perhaps more to the point there are so many other uses (we are all being 'entertained' into oblivion), many have become associated primarily with a movie, or a video game, or in some cases on YouTube by some random user not observing copyrights.
I think this phenomenon leaves young people shortchanged, especially in a world too often determined to find a category for all music - a nice sensible - and totally limiting - mold to stuff each and every song into.
Suspicious Minds is not the greatest song in the world, but it's unique to Elvis post '68 comeback special / pre-physical and mental decline that led to his untimely death in 1977, at the age of 42. It is his lovely but ultimately futile push toward restoring his career in a world and an industry that had passed him by. It reached number one in 1969, and was the last of his music to do so in the U.S. during his lifetime.
I think that's important to know. Or at least have some awareness of.
As music shouldn't be whored out to sell sneakers, cell phones, beer, potato chips or diapers, it probably shouldn't be folded freely into the saccharine story line of a kiddie movie...or any movie.
It should be left alone to comprise the soundtrack of our lives.
"Let's don't let a good thing die, with suspicious minds..."
#97) "I've Got Dreams to Remember" by Otis Redding - The best pop songs usually end up defining something. That could be the times we live in (the times the song was released into), or a certain type of music (genre), or, for certain artists, perhaps their career, or their artistic direction at a certain moment in that career.
I've Got Dreams to Remember is one of those songs that doesn't necessarily define anything. It's not the song Redding is remembered for, nor is it a stamp of final approval on the 'soul' genre. But for this - and more, I think, than others in Redding's musical library (any one of which could be considered a 'final stamp') - it achieves a timelessness that defines everything, and endures.
Definitely on my - and I'd wager a lot of people's - 'soundtrack'.
"Nobody knows what I feel inside..."
Friday, March 28, 2014
Friday, March 21, 2014
The Top 100 (or so) Songs I Absolutely Must Have With Me on 1/48/50 (cont...)
#91) "Sad" by Elton John vs Pnau - Listen to this and try not to be mesmerized - by the lush melody, the breezy club mix beat that seems to smell as good as it sounds, by Elton John's vocals sounding nothing less than custom fit to the arrangement.
The album from which it comes, Good Morning to the Night, is considered a 'remix' album, with elements of past Elton John songs folded into a new interpretation. I would be quick to predict a recipe for failure here (think 1981's Stars on 45 or 1989's even more cringe-inducing Jive Bunny and the Mastermixers), but in this case, it just works, giving Sir Elton's career a new lease on life (the album reached No. 1 on the UK charts in 2012) and revealing the members of Pnau (Nick Littlemore and Peter Hayes) to have a truly deep-seeded understanding of what sounds good.
Seriously, I'm not usually a fan of remixing, sampling or cover versions. In my opinion, music is like Chinese food...you can reheat it, but why would you? It'll never be as good the second time around. But Good Morning to the Night is more a collaboration than merely someone's remix, and it's seamless. Sad, along with any one of the songs from the album for that matter, could stand on its own.
"I used to know this old scarecrow / my joy and sorrow..."
#92) "Rainy Days and Mondays" by The Carpenters - At the risk of sounding like the kid in the movie About a Boy (who I am not like, by any means...), I've always been fairly open and honest about listening to The Carpenters. Is it road music? Certainly not. Music to party to? Naw. Make love to? I'd definitely have to say no.
But there is a reason why their music endures, a reason they have carved out a legacy in spite of being as 'stuck in the 70s' as any musical act could possibly be, a state that was only exacerbated by Karen Carpenter's untimely and tragic death in 1983. Indeed, there is a reason why the 1994 tribute album If I Were a Carpenter saw contributions from as varied a crew as Sheryl Crow, the Cranberries, Sonic Youth and Cracker.
There's just something about much of The Carpenters' music, at least the well-known hits that peppered the AM landscape in the early 70s, an overpowering melancholy that turns out to be captivating, often without the listener realizing.
Nowhere is this more true than in 1971's Rainy Days and Mondays. It's in Karen's voice I think; the comforting, everybody's mother quality that drizzles gelatinously from the speakers, or diffuses in the air like flower petals. It's also in the arrangement, and melody, and the sentiment of the lyrics, which...if you take away the overbearing 70s vibe, remain a powerful message nobody can't relate to.
I'm really not like the kid from About a Boy, but rainy days and Monday do get me down...sometimes.
I admit that part of the Carpenters' allure for me might be because this is what I remember from my earliest days. This kind of music, this 'AM Gold', was the soundtrack of my young life, for better or worse. I'm talking my very young life, the days before kindergarten. The first day of kindergarten is, for most of us, the first big precipitous step we take in our lives, tantamount to leaving the womb. Before that, for me, Carpenters music was like a womb. How could I not take them along on 1/48/50? Cruising through a town in Idaho in my mid or late 40s, it will be nice, soothing, and kind of trippy, to hear a song that reminds me so vividly (still) of being four.
"Hanging around, nothing to do but frown..."
#93) "White Stripes" by The Mexican Institute of Sound - This is one of those songs I might not otherwise know about, were I not in the habit of clicking my way through Rhapsody to seek out new tunes. Periodically, I like to conduct a kind of musical straw poll, where I give any random unknown song 15 seconds of my time - 15 seconds to keep me from moving on to something else.
I do this just to keep things fresh, so as never to get too comfortable with the status quo, never allow my playlists to get too stale. Most of what I find doesn't hold my attention, but every once in a while...
Even then, however, there's been little that deserves to wind up on this list. One would think this list by its very definition - or purpose - cannot help but be stale, populated mostly by those old standards that have stood the test of time in my life, and it has been true to some extent.
But not entirely. I love White Stripes. I love the structure of the song, the harmonies, the humor, the whistling. The creative force behind MIS is a Mexico City deejay and producer by the name of Camilo Lara. And while once again, I'm not a huge fan of sampling or remixes, sometimes someone comes along who's just undeniably good at it, who has figured out that elusive recipe that creates a whole new dish from last night's leftovers.
"It's hard to understand when there's trouble all around, that my love for you is gone..."
#94) "Me and Bobby McGee" by Janis Joplin - If you remove all other (great) considerations from this song - Kris Kristofferson's poetic lyrics and the late afternoon/late 1960s angst they create, the lightly funked out instrumentation that goes a long way toward balancing out the angst - you are left with everything.
Listen to how Janis sings this song, her method of attack, and tell me that beyond the obvious great chops, this is not the perfect vocal representation of the female psyche: all the love, the loyalty, all the irrationality and vulnerability, the whole of what men can't resist, yet will never understand, all of it swirling up into a frenzy of piano.
Seminal to - and for - the fairer sex.
"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose..."
The album from which it comes, Good Morning to the Night, is considered a 'remix' album, with elements of past Elton John songs folded into a new interpretation. I would be quick to predict a recipe for failure here (think 1981's Stars on 45 or 1989's even more cringe-inducing Jive Bunny and the Mastermixers), but in this case, it just works, giving Sir Elton's career a new lease on life (the album reached No. 1 on the UK charts in 2012) and revealing the members of Pnau (Nick Littlemore and Peter Hayes) to have a truly deep-seeded understanding of what sounds good.
Seriously, I'm not usually a fan of remixing, sampling or cover versions. In my opinion, music is like Chinese food...you can reheat it, but why would you? It'll never be as good the second time around. But Good Morning to the Night is more a collaboration than merely someone's remix, and it's seamless. Sad, along with any one of the songs from the album for that matter, could stand on its own.
"I used to know this old scarecrow / my joy and sorrow..."
#92) "Rainy Days and Mondays" by The Carpenters - At the risk of sounding like the kid in the movie About a Boy (who I am not like, by any means...), I've always been fairly open and honest about listening to The Carpenters. Is it road music? Certainly not. Music to party to? Naw. Make love to? I'd definitely have to say no.
But there is a reason why their music endures, a reason they have carved out a legacy in spite of being as 'stuck in the 70s' as any musical act could possibly be, a state that was only exacerbated by Karen Carpenter's untimely and tragic death in 1983. Indeed, there is a reason why the 1994 tribute album If I Were a Carpenter saw contributions from as varied a crew as Sheryl Crow, the Cranberries, Sonic Youth and Cracker.
There's just something about much of The Carpenters' music, at least the well-known hits that peppered the AM landscape in the early 70s, an overpowering melancholy that turns out to be captivating, often without the listener realizing.
Nowhere is this more true than in 1971's Rainy Days and Mondays. It's in Karen's voice I think; the comforting, everybody's mother quality that drizzles gelatinously from the speakers, or diffuses in the air like flower petals. It's also in the arrangement, and melody, and the sentiment of the lyrics, which...if you take away the overbearing 70s vibe, remain a powerful message nobody can't relate to.
I'm really not like the kid from About a Boy, but rainy days and Monday do get me down...sometimes.
I admit that part of the Carpenters' allure for me might be because this is what I remember from my earliest days. This kind of music, this 'AM Gold', was the soundtrack of my young life, for better or worse. I'm talking my very young life, the days before kindergarten. The first day of kindergarten is, for most of us, the first big precipitous step we take in our lives, tantamount to leaving the womb. Before that, for me, Carpenters music was like a womb. How could I not take them along on 1/48/50? Cruising through a town in Idaho in my mid or late 40s, it will be nice, soothing, and kind of trippy, to hear a song that reminds me so vividly (still) of being four.
"Hanging around, nothing to do but frown..."
#93) "White Stripes" by The Mexican Institute of Sound - This is one of those songs I might not otherwise know about, were I not in the habit of clicking my way through Rhapsody to seek out new tunes. Periodically, I like to conduct a kind of musical straw poll, where I give any random unknown song 15 seconds of my time - 15 seconds to keep me from moving on to something else.
I do this just to keep things fresh, so as never to get too comfortable with the status quo, never allow my playlists to get too stale. Most of what I find doesn't hold my attention, but every once in a while...
Even then, however, there's been little that deserves to wind up on this list. One would think this list by its very definition - or purpose - cannot help but be stale, populated mostly by those old standards that have stood the test of time in my life, and it has been true to some extent.
But not entirely. I love White Stripes. I love the structure of the song, the harmonies, the humor, the whistling. The creative force behind MIS is a Mexico City deejay and producer by the name of Camilo Lara. And while once again, I'm not a huge fan of sampling or remixes, sometimes someone comes along who's just undeniably good at it, who has figured out that elusive recipe that creates a whole new dish from last night's leftovers.
"It's hard to understand when there's trouble all around, that my love for you is gone..."
#94) "Me and Bobby McGee" by Janis Joplin - If you remove all other (great) considerations from this song - Kris Kristofferson's poetic lyrics and the late afternoon/late 1960s angst they create, the lightly funked out instrumentation that goes a long way toward balancing out the angst - you are left with everything.
Listen to how Janis sings this song, her method of attack, and tell me that beyond the obvious great chops, this is not the perfect vocal representation of the female psyche: all the love, the loyalty, all the irrationality and vulnerability, the whole of what men can't resist, yet will never understand, all of it swirling up into a frenzy of piano.
Seminal to - and for - the fairer sex.
"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose..."
Friday, March 14, 2014
One year in, and starting to wonder what this big road trip - now known as 1/48/50 - will really be all about...
Re-reading Steinbeck's Travels with Charley lately has me thinking about 1/48/50 from a writer's point of view. I will, of course, write about this trip when it happens. Certainly I plan to keep a travelogue on this page as I go, but afterward, I hope to write about it in a more indulgent voice, something similar to Road Trip 2011. Whether the resulting manuscript ever sees the light of day in a publishing sense will remain to be seen, but won't really affect the decision to do it. I will write about it, even if nobody ever reads what I've written.
The 'big road trip' I've been fantasizing about since I was thirteen has taken many forms over the years, but it's always remained mostly an abstraction: brought sharply into focus in my mind in certain moments of restlessness or desire, but rarely allowed to become more than a fleeting thought, all too easily extinguished by one of the many sobering realities that prowl the everyday world.
Now though, approaching the one-year anniversary of this blog, essentially the one-year anniversary of establishing '1/48/50' as a thing - a specific goal - I've begun to think about what that goal will entail. In other words, what do I expect to happen on this trip?
What will I have to write about when it's over?
Naturally there are some obvious answers, a few things that any good extended road trip can't help but be.
First and foremost, 1/48/50 will be about seeing new places. There is no small amount of locations in this country worthy of a look, especially out west. There are national parks to be taken in, ghost towns galore to seek out, small town main streets to walk up and down, city skylines to skim the surface of, plenty of bodies of water, a veritable potpourri of world's tallest, shortest, biggest, smallest, highest and deepest dotting the landscape...not to mention endless varieties of local festivals celebrating everything from watermelons to blueberries to apples, pumpkins to honeybees to hydrangeas to BBQ.
I'm actually really looking forward to seeking out festivals (another good reason to go in summer, when they abound); I love the thought of an otherwise garden variety community rallying behind one specific thing that makes it unique and turning that thing into a couple days' event.
There are also certain points along my planned route (as it stands right now...) that may be of interest only to me: historical spots I might want to check out, birth places of writers I've admired, maybe towns where something I like - some product I use or enjoy - was invented, and/or manufactured. Seriously, the headquarters of a certain type of coffee, or a microbrewery where a really good beer is made, or a certain candle gets dipped, is worth going out of my way to check out. Bridges are always cool; I'd also go out of my way to drive over one (as random as that sounds), and I'm a huge fan of water towers, though not sure why.
The point is, no doubt I will easily find somewhere to go and something to do on 1/48/50. But all of it will be a subtext to the trip, rather than the main text. The main text, a burgeoning narrative, will spell out on a personal level; I have a feeling I will be in search of something on this journey, or perhaps in pursuit of something.
In the fall of 1960, Steinbeck was 'In Search of America', but that won't be the case with me. I don't feel disconnected from my home country, quite the opposite in fact. And to be honest, America has been 'found' time and time again. Everyone since Steinbeck has been writing about it. It's an old, horse-beaten concept. I'm sure there will be things I observe that are uniquely, fascinatingly, movingly American, but probably nothing that somebody else hasn't already written about.
Likewise, I don't think I'll be spending a lot of time searching for myself on this trip. Part of its allure is being the right age, and the right frame of mind, to go on it. I know who I am at this point in my life, in a way I didn't when I was 20, and I think that will make for a much more satisfying journey. In general, I've always had a pretty healthy sense of self, never considered any part of my personality, my identity, to be missing.
That is, with one notable exception:
If there is any part of me I would hope to work on, improve or 'discover' over the course of the 14,000 miles and five months I plan to travel, it will be the manner with which I engage people I meet along the way. This would seem to run the opposite of 'living nebulously', but I don't want to merely drive around and look at monuments; I want to talk to people, strike up some personal - if temporary - friendships with strangers.
Truth is, I've never been too skilled at that.
Because I've always been okay with myself, my own company, I've never been especially sociable with people I don't know. I'm never unfriendly, exactly (unless I'm in pissy mood), never rude, but the polite smile I proffer has always been an unequivocal sign that in the end, like a lot of people, I just want to be left the hell alone. I do not want to make small talk.
Unfortunately, that same smile usually gets read by the well-meaning but completely filter-less John Candy types of the world as a green light to pop open a fresh can (of small talk), and this phenomenon (and with some, it really is a phenomenon) has always made me bristle.
I can't say why. The easy answer would be that 'people' - that is, strangers - are roundly annoying, and contrary to movies like Planes, Trains and Automobiles, or television shows like Cheers, there isn't really anything amusing or charming about someone like Del Griffith, or Cliff Clavin. Too often, people like that do not want to have a conversation; too often, they don't give a shit what you have to say, are interested solely in hearing themselves talk. This is not a lovable quirk, as far as I'm concerned, it is a bonafide personality flaw, and not only is it not funny, it's insulting, this lack of acknowledgment that my time is precious too.
But I have shied away from organically grown conversations with strangers too, conversations that arose from a shared interest or mutual benefit. Indeed, I have avoided feeling obliged to say something to someone I don't know, needlessly clamming up at the slightest overture on their part, as though it were some kind of assault. I have avoided check-out lanes in supermarkets if they are manned by a cashier I know to be a talker...I have even avoided getting to know extended family, not for any specific reason, certainly nothing to do with them, just my own weird compunction letting friendliness risk opening the floodgate to commitment.
I'm not meaning to paint myself as an anti-social creep; I'm not the guy standing on his porch in a stinking bathrobe, clutching his mangy cat and screaming at the neighbor kids to get off his lawn...I just don't want to risk becoming that in my later years, set in my ways, actively practicing evasion as a (needless) protective measure and alienating myself into oblivion. I've already drifted away from more friends than I thought I would, or probably should have. It was easy to do (without realizing it) when I was younger. I've always fancied myself a loner; but the older one gets, the less healthy that is, and at some point, it's just not cute anymore. We humans are social animals; we're not meant to be alone entirely. Sometimes, maybe, it's good to be alone, and important to know how to handle it in case you have to be...but 'alone' as a lifestyle? Hell no. That, more than anything, is what I learned in my first forty years.
Moreover (and more to the point of 1/48/50), I wonder what I have missed out on - denied myself - by avoiding potential friendships with strangers. I'm a writer, after all, and though I've always nurtured a theory that the best writers aren't reclusive, but are instead outgoing, Type A personalities, I have certainly not lived by that credo absolute. Sometimes not at all.
A good writer must always be willing to listen, ready to engage, never too quick to draw a conclusion.
A good writer knows that without human interaction, without dialogue, there really isn't anything to write about.
Maybe on 1/48/50, I will be in search of a new me - a worthy stage presence for the third act.
The 'big road trip' I've been fantasizing about since I was thirteen has taken many forms over the years, but it's always remained mostly an abstraction: brought sharply into focus in my mind in certain moments of restlessness or desire, but rarely allowed to become more than a fleeting thought, all too easily extinguished by one of the many sobering realities that prowl the everyday world.
Now though, approaching the one-year anniversary of this blog, essentially the one-year anniversary of establishing '1/48/50' as a thing - a specific goal - I've begun to think about what that goal will entail. In other words, what do I expect to happen on this trip?
What will I have to write about when it's over?
Naturally there are some obvious answers, a few things that any good extended road trip can't help but be.
First and foremost, 1/48/50 will be about seeing new places. There is no small amount of locations in this country worthy of a look, especially out west. There are national parks to be taken in, ghost towns galore to seek out, small town main streets to walk up and down, city skylines to skim the surface of, plenty of bodies of water, a veritable potpourri of world's tallest, shortest, biggest, smallest, highest and deepest dotting the landscape...not to mention endless varieties of local festivals celebrating everything from watermelons to blueberries to apples, pumpkins to honeybees to hydrangeas to BBQ.
I'm actually really looking forward to seeking out festivals (another good reason to go in summer, when they abound); I love the thought of an otherwise garden variety community rallying behind one specific thing that makes it unique and turning that thing into a couple days' event.
There are also certain points along my planned route (as it stands right now...) that may be of interest only to me: historical spots I might want to check out, birth places of writers I've admired, maybe towns where something I like - some product I use or enjoy - was invented, and/or manufactured. Seriously, the headquarters of a certain type of coffee, or a microbrewery where a really good beer is made, or a certain candle gets dipped, is worth going out of my way to check out. Bridges are always cool; I'd also go out of my way to drive over one (as random as that sounds), and I'm a huge fan of water towers, though not sure why.
The point is, no doubt I will easily find somewhere to go and something to do on 1/48/50. But all of it will be a subtext to the trip, rather than the main text. The main text, a burgeoning narrative, will spell out on a personal level; I have a feeling I will be in search of something on this journey, or perhaps in pursuit of something.
In the fall of 1960, Steinbeck was 'In Search of America', but that won't be the case with me. I don't feel disconnected from my home country, quite the opposite in fact. And to be honest, America has been 'found' time and time again. Everyone since Steinbeck has been writing about it. It's an old, horse-beaten concept. I'm sure there will be things I observe that are uniquely, fascinatingly, movingly American, but probably nothing that somebody else hasn't already written about.
Likewise, I don't think I'll be spending a lot of time searching for myself on this trip. Part of its allure is being the right age, and the right frame of mind, to go on it. I know who I am at this point in my life, in a way I didn't when I was 20, and I think that will make for a much more satisfying journey. In general, I've always had a pretty healthy sense of self, never considered any part of my personality, my identity, to be missing.
That is, with one notable exception:
If there is any part of me I would hope to work on, improve or 'discover' over the course of the 14,000 miles and five months I plan to travel, it will be the manner with which I engage people I meet along the way. This would seem to run the opposite of 'living nebulously', but I don't want to merely drive around and look at monuments; I want to talk to people, strike up some personal - if temporary - friendships with strangers.
Truth is, I've never been too skilled at that.
Because I've always been okay with myself, my own company, I've never been especially sociable with people I don't know. I'm never unfriendly, exactly (unless I'm in pissy mood), never rude, but the polite smile I proffer has always been an unequivocal sign that in the end, like a lot of people, I just want to be left the hell alone. I do not want to make small talk.
Unfortunately, that same smile usually gets read by the well-meaning but completely filter-less John Candy types of the world as a green light to pop open a fresh can (of small talk), and this phenomenon (and with some, it really is a phenomenon) has always made me bristle.
I can't say why. The easy answer would be that 'people' - that is, strangers - are roundly annoying, and contrary to movies like Planes, Trains and Automobiles, or television shows like Cheers, there isn't really anything amusing or charming about someone like Del Griffith, or Cliff Clavin. Too often, people like that do not want to have a conversation; too often, they don't give a shit what you have to say, are interested solely in hearing themselves talk. This is not a lovable quirk, as far as I'm concerned, it is a bonafide personality flaw, and not only is it not funny, it's insulting, this lack of acknowledgment that my time is precious too.
But I have shied away from organically grown conversations with strangers too, conversations that arose from a shared interest or mutual benefit. Indeed, I have avoided feeling obliged to say something to someone I don't know, needlessly clamming up at the slightest overture on their part, as though it were some kind of assault. I have avoided check-out lanes in supermarkets if they are manned by a cashier I know to be a talker...I have even avoided getting to know extended family, not for any specific reason, certainly nothing to do with them, just my own weird compunction letting friendliness risk opening the floodgate to commitment.
I'm not meaning to paint myself as an anti-social creep; I'm not the guy standing on his porch in a stinking bathrobe, clutching his mangy cat and screaming at the neighbor kids to get off his lawn...I just don't want to risk becoming that in my later years, set in my ways, actively practicing evasion as a (needless) protective measure and alienating myself into oblivion. I've already drifted away from more friends than I thought I would, or probably should have. It was easy to do (without realizing it) when I was younger. I've always fancied myself a loner; but the older one gets, the less healthy that is, and at some point, it's just not cute anymore. We humans are social animals; we're not meant to be alone entirely. Sometimes, maybe, it's good to be alone, and important to know how to handle it in case you have to be...but 'alone' as a lifestyle? Hell no. That, more than anything, is what I learned in my first forty years.
Moreover (and more to the point of 1/48/50), I wonder what I have missed out on - denied myself - by avoiding potential friendships with strangers. I'm a writer, after all, and though I've always nurtured a theory that the best writers aren't reclusive, but are instead outgoing, Type A personalities, I have certainly not lived by that credo absolute. Sometimes not at all.
A good writer must always be willing to listen, ready to engage, never too quick to draw a conclusion.
A good writer knows that without human interaction, without dialogue, there really isn't anything to write about.
Maybe on 1/48/50, I will be in search of a new me - a worthy stage presence for the third act.
Friday, March 7, 2014
The Top 100 (or so) Songs I Absolutely Must Have With Me on 1/48/50 (cont...)
#87) "Dust in the Wind" by Kansas - The most amazing thing about Kansas' biggest charting single might be that it peaked at #6 in the spring of '78 on the Billboard Top 100, essentially the same countdown that now hosts the likes of Kesha, Kanye and Katy.
In pointing this out, I'm not intending to draw a 'better or worse' comparison so much as illustrate the mind-boggling disparity between where popular music once was, and where it finds itself today. Imagine an authentically heady song like Dust in the Wind (as opposed to just another power ballad) getting so much as a whiff of airplay today! Imagine Top 40 radio deejays announcing it as new or 'hot' music on an all-request Friday night, imagine it getting requested by teenagers the way Lorde, or John Legend, or Adele, are today. Imagine Kansas playing this song in concert back in the day, buzz killing the lot of post-groovy 70s kids who showed up expecting to rock out to "Carry On Wayward Son" (another song that will likely show up on this list) and instead had their minds sent off shore by long, long thoughts most people don't start having until at least age 30.
And yet, greatness has a way of enduring through time. According to Wikipedia (and take this for what it's worth, of course..), Dust in the Wind is among the most digitally downloaded songs these days, certified Gold in 2008, which means there might still be an appetite for the kind of far-reaching understanding this song sets down.
I like to think so. The song really is awesome; sends my mind off shore, without question. When all is said and done, when all our stories are told, and told again, and told too many times (and make no mistake, they will be), there might be no more unsettling and at the same time comforting truth.
We are all, and everything is, dust in the wind.
"All my dreams pass before my eyes a curiosity..."
#88) "Cowboy" by Kid Rock - I wonder a lot when I listen to this song.
I wonder about the recklessness it speaks of, and the type of person who might want to emulate it. I wonder if he might really believe there is a chance in hell that he'll someday do the same thing - pack up his game and head out west, pimp, mack and ball, brother - and moreover if he believes such an endeavor will turn out just like in the song, or that it ever turns out that way for anyone.
I guess it did turn out like that for Kid Rock...
I usually have to identify with something in a song in order to take notice. Not always, but most of the time, the songs that have moved me are those that could easily be placed on a soundtrack of my life. On that score, I don't think I'm all that unusual.
Cowboy is overwhelmingly a dude's anthem, a bucket of testosterone splashed over the listener's head, or chilled until it hardens, then carved into deep blue bars of Fight Club-style soap, which sponsors every episode of 1000 Ways to Die on Spike TV...
That means that on the surface, within the razor-thin string of impulse and/or instinct I largely have no control over, I get this song. But its reckless machismo quickly escapes me. Most men are never going to actually do this, and if someone does, somehow, find his way to Cali-for-ny-ay, the bitter truth is he would probably find this realm of the Golden State completely inaccessible. He would find himself far less likely to give a toast to the sun and drink with the stars, far more likely to wind up in over his head and out of options. He would inevitably fuck up in some way, the chaos he's caused turning against him on a dime, culminating with his being dragged shirtless out from under a trailer by the cops, in front of his girlfriend (who now fears she may not have loved him enough...), his kids, his neighbors...
This is not intended to malign any particular person or lifestyle, rather, to expose the notion of inviting this brand of chaos into one's life as ultimately a futile and destructive endeavor. I contend that Cowboy is simply not very realistic for any guy - anybody - over the age of 22 with an IQ over 100, but maybe it isn't supposed to be; maybe it's just a hardcore fantasy. Maybe I'm over thinking it. Wouldn't be the first time.
While I'm at it, though, I wonder about Kid Rock's politics of late, as Cowboy thumps defiantly from my car stereo (terrifying little old ladies crossing in front of me at a red light...;-), I wonder about his appearances on Fox News, support for Mitt Romney in 2012. Does that alienate certain fans? I'm not saying it should, necessarily...just that it must. It must. There would seem to be no way around it.
What is it about Cowboy that I took notice of? I can't honestly say...it's just a great song. Great jam. There's no denying that. Maybe that's all that needs to be said.
Maybe it makes me wonder about myself. I've always been more comfortable with the concept of being the law, rather than the cowboy.
And yet...and yet...there are times...
"They told us to leave, but bet they can't make us..."
#89) "Rocky Mountain High" by John Denver - Like Dust in the Wind, Rocky Mountain High's ascent to #9 on the US singles chart in 1973 would not likely happen today, not so much for the folksy-dolksy musical style, but what it's about, the earnest consciousness intrinsic in its lyrics. And Rocky Mountain High went a step further in the 'impossible to believe' category, becoming a wellspring of some controversy in its time, as it was believed - by some - to contain - *GASP!* - drug references.
Folksy-dolksy though it may be, Rocky Mountain High isn't innocuous. I think it's not only a rousing clarion call to the importance of connecting to nature, but also a lyrical ode to the joy found in doing so. And not that it matters at this point (or ever did...), but I completely believe Denver's explanation that the song was misinterpreted by people who have obviously never been to the Rocky Mountains. Seriously, if you heard this song in 1973 and jumped straight past Denver's obvious revelry to the conclusion that the word 'high' is drug related - around the campfire or otherwise - perhaps you were high.
I drove through the Rocky Mountains in January, in the middle of the night, in blizzard conditions forcing big rigs to pull over and put chains on their tires, and I was still blown away by their presence; I can't wait to get back there in summer, in early mornings and lingering twilights.
On 1/48/50, or before. And after.
"Talk to God and listen to the casual reply..."
#90) "Carefree Highway" by Gordon Lightfoot - As I've written before, to a northerner like myself, Gordon Lightfoot is like a comfortable pair of shoes...something that is familiar, and beautiful, if not always pleasant. It's in his voice, in his melodies; it's in what he sings about and how he sings about it.
When I dreamt of traveling in days gone by, Carefree Highway was largely how I pictured it playing out. I was younger then, of course...saw myself immersed in things to a greater extent, my life and the road melded as one...a true drifter. I will be not be a true drifter on 1/48/50; I will always have someone, and something to come back to, an anchor, and that's okay. 'The morning after blues from my head down to my shoes' would probably make the highway a lot less carefree.
"Her name was Ann and I'll be damned if I recall her face..."
In pointing this out, I'm not intending to draw a 'better or worse' comparison so much as illustrate the mind-boggling disparity between where popular music once was, and where it finds itself today. Imagine an authentically heady song like Dust in the Wind (as opposed to just another power ballad) getting so much as a whiff of airplay today! Imagine Top 40 radio deejays announcing it as new or 'hot' music on an all-request Friday night, imagine it getting requested by teenagers the way Lorde, or John Legend, or Adele, are today. Imagine Kansas playing this song in concert back in the day, buzz killing the lot of post-groovy 70s kids who showed up expecting to rock out to "Carry On Wayward Son" (another song that will likely show up on this list) and instead had their minds sent off shore by long, long thoughts most people don't start having until at least age 30.
And yet, greatness has a way of enduring through time. According to Wikipedia (and take this for what it's worth, of course..), Dust in the Wind is among the most digitally downloaded songs these days, certified Gold in 2008, which means there might still be an appetite for the kind of far-reaching understanding this song sets down.
I like to think so. The song really is awesome; sends my mind off shore, without question. When all is said and done, when all our stories are told, and told again, and told too many times (and make no mistake, they will be), there might be no more unsettling and at the same time comforting truth.
We are all, and everything is, dust in the wind.
"All my dreams pass before my eyes a curiosity..."
#88) "Cowboy" by Kid Rock - I wonder a lot when I listen to this song.
I wonder about the recklessness it speaks of, and the type of person who might want to emulate it. I wonder if he might really believe there is a chance in hell that he'll someday do the same thing - pack up his game and head out west, pimp, mack and ball, brother - and moreover if he believes such an endeavor will turn out just like in the song, or that it ever turns out that way for anyone.
I guess it did turn out like that for Kid Rock...
I usually have to identify with something in a song in order to take notice. Not always, but most of the time, the songs that have moved me are those that could easily be placed on a soundtrack of my life. On that score, I don't think I'm all that unusual.
Cowboy is overwhelmingly a dude's anthem, a bucket of testosterone splashed over the listener's head, or chilled until it hardens, then carved into deep blue bars of Fight Club-style soap, which sponsors every episode of 1000 Ways to Die on Spike TV...
That means that on the surface, within the razor-thin string of impulse and/or instinct I largely have no control over, I get this song. But its reckless machismo quickly escapes me. Most men are never going to actually do this, and if someone does, somehow, find his way to Cali-for-ny-ay, the bitter truth is he would probably find this realm of the Golden State completely inaccessible. He would find himself far less likely to give a toast to the sun and drink with the stars, far more likely to wind up in over his head and out of options. He would inevitably fuck up in some way, the chaos he's caused turning against him on a dime, culminating with his being dragged shirtless out from under a trailer by the cops, in front of his girlfriend (who now fears she may not have loved him enough...), his kids, his neighbors...
This is not intended to malign any particular person or lifestyle, rather, to expose the notion of inviting this brand of chaos into one's life as ultimately a futile and destructive endeavor. I contend that Cowboy is simply not very realistic for any guy - anybody - over the age of 22 with an IQ over 100, but maybe it isn't supposed to be; maybe it's just a hardcore fantasy. Maybe I'm over thinking it. Wouldn't be the first time.
While I'm at it, though, I wonder about Kid Rock's politics of late, as Cowboy thumps defiantly from my car stereo (terrifying little old ladies crossing in front of me at a red light...;-), I wonder about his appearances on Fox News, support for Mitt Romney in 2012. Does that alienate certain fans? I'm not saying it should, necessarily...just that it must. It must. There would seem to be no way around it.
What is it about Cowboy that I took notice of? I can't honestly say...it's just a great song. Great jam. There's no denying that. Maybe that's all that needs to be said.
Maybe it makes me wonder about myself. I've always been more comfortable with the concept of being the law, rather than the cowboy.
And yet...and yet...there are times...
"They told us to leave, but bet they can't make us..."
#89) "Rocky Mountain High" by John Denver - Like Dust in the Wind, Rocky Mountain High's ascent to #9 on the US singles chart in 1973 would not likely happen today, not so much for the folksy-dolksy musical style, but what it's about, the earnest consciousness intrinsic in its lyrics. And Rocky Mountain High went a step further in the 'impossible to believe' category, becoming a wellspring of some controversy in its time, as it was believed - by some - to contain - *GASP!* - drug references.
Folksy-dolksy though it may be, Rocky Mountain High isn't innocuous. I think it's not only a rousing clarion call to the importance of connecting to nature, but also a lyrical ode to the joy found in doing so. And not that it matters at this point (or ever did...), but I completely believe Denver's explanation that the song was misinterpreted by people who have obviously never been to the Rocky Mountains. Seriously, if you heard this song in 1973 and jumped straight past Denver's obvious revelry to the conclusion that the word 'high' is drug related - around the campfire or otherwise - perhaps you were high.
I drove through the Rocky Mountains in January, in the middle of the night, in blizzard conditions forcing big rigs to pull over and put chains on their tires, and I was still blown away by their presence; I can't wait to get back there in summer, in early mornings and lingering twilights.
On 1/48/50, or before. And after.
"Talk to God and listen to the casual reply..."
#90) "Carefree Highway" by Gordon Lightfoot - As I've written before, to a northerner like myself, Gordon Lightfoot is like a comfortable pair of shoes...something that is familiar, and beautiful, if not always pleasant. It's in his voice, in his melodies; it's in what he sings about and how he sings about it.
When I dreamt of traveling in days gone by, Carefree Highway was largely how I pictured it playing out. I was younger then, of course...saw myself immersed in things to a greater extent, my life and the road melded as one...a true drifter. I will be not be a true drifter on 1/48/50; I will always have someone, and something to come back to, an anchor, and that's okay. 'The morning after blues from my head down to my shoes' would probably make the highway a lot less carefree.
"Her name was Ann and I'll be damned if I recall her face..."
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