#152) "Please Remember Me" by Tim McGraw - A woman I worked with in radio years ago was not impressed by this song when it came out. "Tim McGraw should not be accompanied by an orchestra!" she cried, insinuating (f I understood her correctly) that with its lush string section and long, dramatic notes, Please Remember Me was a corruption of the country music business model. I'm sure she wasn't the only one. I'm sure a lot of traditionalists agreed.
Fair enough. But McGraw's version of the song, written by Rodney Crowell and Will Jennings (who interestingly, yet I guess not surprisingly, had a hand in writing Celene Dion's My Heart Will Go On), was released in 1999, at the tail end of an experimental time in country music - when loftier, cinematic themes naturally led to loftier orchestrations, weightier arrangements, and more expected of vocals than just the snap of a Southern drawl. It was a trend that would continue until 2001. The best way to describe the difference between glittery 90s country and the gritty, post-9/11 movement might be to compare Gretchen Wilson 4-wheeling through the mud and doing Kid Rock's laundry in her underwear (er, you know...the video for 2004's Redneck Woman...) and Faith Hill writhing around in silk sheets in the video for Breathe (1999)...looking good to be sure, but not all that 'country'.
In fact, Wilson's refreshingly raw vibe seemed to incite Faith Hill to quickly strip down her own image, which had begun to wallow a bit in so much glitter and foof, and constructing herself anew with the 'down home' Mississippi Girl in 2005. I don't know if it landed in quite the same way. It didn't with me.
But I digress.
Another co-worker at the station, a dude, tried to insinuate (jokingly) that I was a drama queen when I announced I liked Please Remember Me. I'm not. But I do appreciate any song I feel captures the greater drama coursing through all of us. The human story going on day and night, which we all can relate to, even though the details may be different for each of us.
In other words, there's a difference between the self-indulgent personal drama getting deposited on Facebook and the universally shared epic story we're all a part of, that powerful play Whitman wrote of. Please Remember Me captures a little piece of that. We all want to be remembered; we all want to rest assured there will be some acknowledgement that we were once by this way, and that we had an impact on someone or something. And we all watch days come 'without fail'.
"When I can't hurt you anymore..."
#153) "Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground" by Willie Nelson - This just might have been what the lady at the radio station was talking about, what she expected of her country music, and felt Please Remember Me ran so afoul of.
And I can't say I disagree. For my money, Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground is among the greatest country songs of all time, a brilliant exercise in the old adage less is more. A splendidly sparse arrangement and instrumentation coupled with Nelson's equally sparse but always reliable vocals helps this simplified hurtin' song pack a potent emotional punch, every bit as deep and moving as Please Remember Me.
Without all the bellow and bluster...and begging.
"And I patched up your broken wing, and hung around a while / Trying to keep your spirit up, and your fever down..."
Friday, April 24, 2015
Friday, April 17, 2015
Reason #32 to Live Nebulously
Kim Kardashian's upcoming book of selfies, entitled - *sigh...* - Selfish...
Friday, April 10, 2015
Friday, April 3, 2015
For this kind of road trip, searching for the right RV really is searching for a 'home away from home'
When I started this blog two years ago, I pondered the vessel in which I would take the journey. Ruling out both a car and motorcycle (and the ridiculous biker jacket I wore when I was younger...thank God) as impractical, I realized (with some reluctance) that the smartest thing to do would be to take an RV.
Reluctant, because at the time I didn't see myself as an 'RV person'. I did not relish the thought of driving a 30 foot, 10-ton behemoth across America, not so much because they're obnoxious (as in embarrassingly conspicuous), but because, like ocean sailing, I don't want to work that hard to have a good time. I didn't like the thought of bringing along a host of household chores. That didn't seem nebulous to me at all.
But my thoughts on the matter have changed dramatically since then. Not only has the RV revealed itself to be the only possible option for pulling off the kind of extended road trip I have in mind, but I've come to learn there is a happy medium in the Class B motor home, the 'camper van'. It's shorter of stature than a traditional RV, not as long or as wide, mounted on a truck chassis, which means it's much easier to drive, to maneuver, to park, and gets roundly better gas mileage. I like the thought of being able to drive it anywhere and not worry that I'll clip the front bumper of another car as I'm executing a left turn through a tight intersection. It'll fit on city streets as well as Interstates, and I won't have to find an RV park if I don't want to (or can't); I can, conceivably, park discreetly in the far corner of a parking lot and get some hassle free sleep if need be. Not so discreet as a car or motorcycle, perhaps (as much as possible I'd like to remain incognito on this trip), it doesn't belch quite as loudly or offensively as its Class A cousin, which, as I posted two years ago, announces in no uncertain terms, "I'M TRAVELING!!!!"
To my delight, and surprise somewhat, I've found that there is no small amount of models and styles of Class B's available. When Steinbeck took his road trip in autumn 1960, he had to have Rocinante special ordered. Nowadays, numerous brands of camper vans exist, ready to be driven off the sales lot, and countless used models are available for a lot less money, with accouterments, amenities and performance features Steinbeck couldn't have imagined.
Of course, the new models range from high end to low end. The high ends sport gorgeous interiors - granite counter tops, wood cabinetry, LED lighting, private bath and shower, everything automatic. They're fun to look at, fun to fantasize about, but traveling in the lap of luxury is not necessary for me, and even if I could afford it (they range in price from $80,000 to 100,000), I don't know that I would go high end for 1/48/50. If I were traveling with someone, or with kids, I'd perhaps try to make it work, but not by myself. My list of basic requirements hasn't changed much in a couple of years. An AUX plug, a CD player and air conditioning pretty much round out the cockpit area (maybe cruise control, too). In the camper section, a basic bed, shower and stove, also air-conditioning. Then, as long as all the hook ups - black water, gray water, fresh water, etc... - are present and in working order, everything should be fine.
That means a used rig in good condition would be perfectly fine. Of course, like everything else in life, the less money you are able or willing to spend, the older - and more used - the rig becomes, and this is where whatever fussiness I have might come into play. I've already spent some time poking around Craigslist...just to see what's out there. There are deals to be had (in theory, anyone selling an RV is by definition a 'motivated seller'), but problem is, they're for rigs from the 1980s and 90s that unfortunately look like they're from the 80s and 90s - rust, ripped seat cushions, stained carpets, missing knobs, cracked windows and all.
I'm not particularly proud of this part of my personality, but I don't think I could live in something that looks, and feels, and smells too old, or comes equipped with remnants of the previous owner's presence - dog hair woven into the carpet or crumbs under the seat from some long gone individual's Doritos binge in the Summer of '95. Even the smells of someone's long past cooking would bother me; sometimes odors are hard to get out of fabric.
Sometimes there just isn't enough Febreze.
I'm not normally a fussbudget; I really don't need things to be perfect. But I have to keep in mind, this is not going to be a normal RV trip. This will not be a mere weekend up in the mountains, or a week long drive as far as I can go and still have enough time to get back because I have to work that next Monday. 1/48/50 will have a degree of (temporary) permanence to it, upwards of six months straight, during which whatever turtle shell I decide on will be my home, day in and day out, the only place I'll have to lay my head at night. That makes all the little details far more important than they would be if all I planned to do with this rig was get out of town for a few days, once or twice a year.
What's more, used models often have high miles, which invariably leads to mechanical failure, which, with regard to my ability (or lack thereof) to handle break downs, particularly one 2,500 miles from home, deserves its own post.
Reluctant, because at the time I didn't see myself as an 'RV person'. I did not relish the thought of driving a 30 foot, 10-ton behemoth across America, not so much because they're obnoxious (as in embarrassingly conspicuous), but because, like ocean sailing, I don't want to work that hard to have a good time. I didn't like the thought of bringing along a host of household chores. That didn't seem nebulous to me at all.
But my thoughts on the matter have changed dramatically since then. Not only has the RV revealed itself to be the only possible option for pulling off the kind of extended road trip I have in mind, but I've come to learn there is a happy medium in the Class B motor home, the 'camper van'. It's shorter of stature than a traditional RV, not as long or as wide, mounted on a truck chassis, which means it's much easier to drive, to maneuver, to park, and gets roundly better gas mileage. I like the thought of being able to drive it anywhere and not worry that I'll clip the front bumper of another car as I'm executing a left turn through a tight intersection. It'll fit on city streets as well as Interstates, and I won't have to find an RV park if I don't want to (or can't); I can, conceivably, park discreetly in the far corner of a parking lot and get some hassle free sleep if need be. Not so discreet as a car or motorcycle, perhaps (as much as possible I'd like to remain incognito on this trip), it doesn't belch quite as loudly or offensively as its Class A cousin, which, as I posted two years ago, announces in no uncertain terms, "I'M TRAVELING!!!!"
To my delight, and surprise somewhat, I've found that there is no small amount of models and styles of Class B's available. When Steinbeck took his road trip in autumn 1960, he had to have Rocinante special ordered. Nowadays, numerous brands of camper vans exist, ready to be driven off the sales lot, and countless used models are available for a lot less money, with accouterments, amenities and performance features Steinbeck couldn't have imagined.
Of course, the new models range from high end to low end. The high ends sport gorgeous interiors - granite counter tops, wood cabinetry, LED lighting, private bath and shower, everything automatic. They're fun to look at, fun to fantasize about, but traveling in the lap of luxury is not necessary for me, and even if I could afford it (they range in price from $80,000 to 100,000), I don't know that I would go high end for 1/48/50. If I were traveling with someone, or with kids, I'd perhaps try to make it work, but not by myself. My list of basic requirements hasn't changed much in a couple of years. An AUX plug, a CD player and air conditioning pretty much round out the cockpit area (maybe cruise control, too). In the camper section, a basic bed, shower and stove, also air-conditioning. Then, as long as all the hook ups - black water, gray water, fresh water, etc... - are present and in working order, everything should be fine.
That means a used rig in good condition would be perfectly fine. Of course, like everything else in life, the less money you are able or willing to spend, the older - and more used - the rig becomes, and this is where whatever fussiness I have might come into play. I've already spent some time poking around Craigslist...just to see what's out there. There are deals to be had (in theory, anyone selling an RV is by definition a 'motivated seller'), but problem is, they're for rigs from the 1980s and 90s that unfortunately look like they're from the 80s and 90s - rust, ripped seat cushions, stained carpets, missing knobs, cracked windows and all.
I'm not particularly proud of this part of my personality, but I don't think I could live in something that looks, and feels, and smells too old, or comes equipped with remnants of the previous owner's presence - dog hair woven into the carpet or crumbs under the seat from some long gone individual's Doritos binge in the Summer of '95. Even the smells of someone's long past cooking would bother me; sometimes odors are hard to get out of fabric.
Sometimes there just isn't enough Febreze.
I'm not normally a fussbudget; I really don't need things to be perfect. But I have to keep in mind, this is not going to be a normal RV trip. This will not be a mere weekend up in the mountains, or a week long drive as far as I can go and still have enough time to get back because I have to work that next Monday. 1/48/50 will have a degree of (temporary) permanence to it, upwards of six months straight, during which whatever turtle shell I decide on will be my home, day in and day out, the only place I'll have to lay my head at night. That makes all the little details far more important than they would be if all I planned to do with this rig was get out of town for a few days, once or twice a year.
What's more, used models often have high miles, which invariably leads to mechanical failure, which, with regard to my ability (or lack thereof) to handle break downs, particularly one 2,500 miles from home, deserves its own post.
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