The NEXT Top 100 (or so) Songs I Absolutely Must Have With Me on 1/48/50 (cont...)

#158) In Another World" by Joe Diffie - A left turn for country music, In Another World is not a typical break-up song, nor a typical Joe Diffie song.  Its melody has a kind of elastic, dreamy quality that suggests (just suggests, never actually says...) nothing is simple, never quite as it seems, even in supposedly quiet and 'sleepy' small towns.

It's especially remarkable, given a typical Joe Diffie song at the time ran more along the line of Third Rock From the Sun, John Deere Greene, and Good Brown Gravy. Here, he admirably steps out of his safety zone, even altering his singing style for the occasion - replacing what seemed to be an obligatory 'a-hyuck! a-hyuck!' defining his contribution to 1990s country (I don't necessarily mean that in a negative way...) with a more serious, monotone delivery, slightly anxious, but steady as a rock. It does the oddly compelling melody and arrangement of In Another World justice.

"There you are with your hair all down, and your feet are bare, and your cotton gown..."

#159) "Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)" by Bruce Springsteen - It's too bad that when people think back on Bruce and his career, they're most likely to remember Born in the USA first. Though he was already a virtual legend in the eyes of savvy rock and rollers by the time it was released in 1984, Born...(in the USA...not ...to Run) was the album that secured his place amongst Top 40 royalty, that poster of him in his jeans in front of the American flag becoming as iconic to the 1980s as anything. All of it much to the chagrin of Bruce purists who had been digging his musical vibe since the early 70s, and may not have liked having to acknowledge his artistic growth, since his artistic infancy was so solid. Imagine being fortunate enough to have caught him playing somewhere along the Jersey shore when he was still unknown, in days when the Jersey shore meant something other than the place where Snooki puked up tequila and corn chips on the boardwalk. (er, you know...)

I don't think Bruce's mainstream success in the 80s is quite the lame selling out that some do, but it's certainly not the entire story. The Boss's lasting greatness is simply not to be found in the tired, middle age resignation permeating Born in the USA, but instead the wild-eyed certainty in the face of uncertainty that marked his early stuff - the boundless and earnest energy and enthusiasm that powered four-hour concerts back in the day - music for kids that weren't bad, weren't rebels, exactly...just restless, and uncompromising.

That's the interesting thing about Bruce's early music. As poetic and romantic as it was, as uniquely 'Bruce' as it came across, there was no posturing to speak of, no carefully calculated style evident. It was completely organic and effortless, encompassing the collective 'style' of all young people everywhere - young people restless and uncompromising, and blessed with an entire summer before them.  And knowing it.

And really, what better accompaniment to such a fantastic state of affairs as the start of summer than Rosalita? Bruce's lyrics, Weinberg's drumming, Bittan's piano, the Big Man's sax...There's nothing else I can say about any part of this song that doesn't pretty much speak for itself.  

And for everyone, at some point or another.  If they're lucky.

"And my machine she's a dud, out stuck in the mud, somewhere in the swamps of Jersey..."

On 1/48/50, knowing when to turn a wrench might prove more useful than HOW to turn a wrench

Maybe because it's not quite real in my mind yet, still years out, still in its infancy stage...in other words, maybe because mostly what I've done on this page up to this point is talk about music...but I still take a sort of 'no big deal' approach to thinking about 1/48/50. At this point, I still think only of the good stuff - the sense of freedom, the sublime weightlessness of travel, of being nebulous, of what I might discover on the road, about my country, my countrymen, and myself. It would be difficult to imagine those kinds of thoughts provoking anything other than excitement and anticipation.

It's only when I really sit down and give it some extensive thought, really ponder the logistics, and the time in which I'm expecting to carry it out, that 1/48/50 is revealed to be, in actuality, a major, major undertaking, something way beyond a road trip, which I will at some point have to really start preparing for in earnest, not just fantasize about.

It's going to involve six months away from my home, away from anyone's home, an extended period of time having none of the things I'm used to having at my disposal, the types of things that are so embedded in our daily lives we hardly notice them, until they're gone. My entire day-to-day routine will have to be demolished and a new one built nearby, like a pro sports stadium, with all sorts of new and improved features to accommodate my drastic change in circumstances. Circumstances that aren't going to return to normal after a week...or two weeks, or three weeks, or even a month. Or TWO months. That's the strange, and yes, even a little intimidating, part: the nebulous life will have a degree of permanence. For a little while.

There will surely be moments when I'll have to improvise, in a thousand unforeseen ways. In Travels with Charley, John Steinbeck describes the unique idea of placing his dirty clothes in a garbage can with water and soap and letting the constant jostling of a day's worth of driving wash them cleaner than he'd ever seen. Doubtless there will moments like that, and to that end, hopefully more happy accidents than sad ones.

But it begs the question; where will I be washing my clothes? I guess I'll be living in laundromats. Or maybe I'll try Steinbeck's trick...but the point is, I'll have to come up with something. And the actual answer to that question (and others: where will I buy laundry soap?, where will I sit and drink coffee?, where will I pick up some groceries?) is going to change from day to day.

And I hope this is not the case, but there may well come moments when I need to draw from whatever stores of mechanical know-how I possess. This is a 14,000 mile drive after all. And that could be where I run into trouble....or hassle, at the very least.

What if  my vehicle broke down 2,000 miles from home? What if it broke down 65 miles from anywhere? In a worst-case scenario, I'd be thumbing my way into town, talking to an unfamiliar individual about the options and probably paying a painfully outrageous towing fee. And it could be said that - when it comes to being stranded in the middle of nowhere - maybe that's the best case.

The best way to avoid a mechanical calamity is to carry out proper maintenance. An ounce of prevention. To that end, I do have the knowledge required to perform basic engine maintenance. I can check all the fluids and replace as needed, accurately check/fill tire pressure, have changed oil myself in the past (certainly understand the importance of having someone do it regularly)...could probably figure out spark plugs if I were tested.  But more to the point, I have some fairly adequate (I think) troubleshooting skills. I know what certain sounds and noises mean, or could mean - the cumulative effect of having until recently in my life driven mostly junkers, and have a reasonable know-how as to what to do next when I hear them.

The ability to troubleshoot, more than the ability to actually fix something, will probably be my greatest tool. If the plan is to take an RV, it's almost certainly going to be a used one. And a used RV is like any other used vehicle - pretty much the acquisition of someone else's headache. A certain amount of rigging will be necessary at some point. After all, it's not just the engine to consider, but other working elements as well - holding tanks and hook ups, plugs and outlets, AC unit, generator, propane, etc...an RV is more of a vessel than a vehicle, and for six months, one will be central to the construction of my new daily routine. Staying on top of these things, however odious I find chores like that to be, will be in my best interest.

I've said many times I don't want to work too hard to have a good time. This has always fueled my aversion to ocean sailing. I love to watch videos of people's adventures across the Pacific, but can't see myself being responsible for so much. And yet, if I really sit and think about it, follow all my thoughts through to conclusion, I'm excited, not intimidated, by the challenges I may face on my road trip. A certain amount of uncertainty will be the underwriter of 1/48/50, and the way I respond will be crucial in deciding whether I spend most of it riding the highways and byways of my soul, or sitting in a waiting area at a mechanic's garage in Bumblebutt, Wherever, sipping bad coffee and awaiting bad(der) news.

I will in any case probably be spending a fair amount of time in laundromats, rocking the Pole Position game, waiting for my garbage can-washed clothes to dry.

The NEXT Top 100 (or so) Songs I Absolutely Must Have With Me on 1/48/50 (cont...)

#156) "Old Man" by Neil Young - Maybe I'm speaking out of turn, but I always thought there was something about Neil Young to suggest he might kick your ass if you didn't pay attention. He seemed to walk that fine line between 'hippie' and 'cowboy' in days when it was still possible to do so, when we weren't so polarized we couldn't or wouldn't listen to or care about the other side - political, emotional or otherwise. When common ground, rather than civil war, was the goal.

Old Man is Neil Young at his best - haunting yet moving melody, introspective yet universally felt lyrics, deceptively bare bones arrangement, and his voice - sorrowful, vulnerable, but possessing an unmistakable tint of rage toward a largely indiscernible enemy.

The song is iconic to the times, in the sense that they just don't write 'em like this much anymore...or they don't chart on Billboard's Hot 100 anyway, as Old Man did in the spring of 1972. This video, from a BBC performance, is visually iconic as well, I'd say. For my money, it was the best time in popular music. Not the only time, mind you, but the best. Before image became everything: when it was okay to look like this, as long as you could sing like this. Nowadays, if you don't have a face worthy of product endorsement, and for that matter if your music isn't all that worthy of product endorsement, your options in the industry are going to be limited.




"Old man take a look at my life, I'm a lot like you / I need someone to love me the whole day through..."

#157) "Please Come to Boston" by Dave Loggins - One of those songs that people shouldn't be too quick to lump in with other easy listening ditties, Please Come to Boston digs a little deeper and warrants a little more attention. It was good enough for David Allan Coe (who just MIGHT kick your ass if you don't pay attention...;-) to cover. It speaks in a soft but potent voice of the restless and ultimately helpless spirit of the artist, the creative soul, but also, I'd say, to the restlessness (and helplessness) most people (creative or otherwise) feel as time passes, the nagging impulse to accomplish something, before they give up and settle down, before they cross some threshold (perhaps the indiscernible enemy Neil Young sings of...?) and put their dreams away.

Also a song that wouldn't get a lot of airplay today, Please Come to Boston is an especially moving narrative to me, as I get older and the resignation of 'Tennessee' becomes not only more unavoidable, but more alluring than I ever imagined.

"Please come to L.A. to live forever..."

Three Things That Always Stir Restlesness

1) Garden centers opening

2) Nights softening

3) Days lengthening

The NEXT Top 100 (or so) Songs I Absolutely Must Have With Me on 1/48/50 (cont...)

#154) "If You Could Read My Mind" by Gordon Lightfoot - In art class my junior year in high school, the teacher presented an interesting challenge: choose a song you like, and paint whatever comes to mind while listening to it.

It was a school assignment I could get on board with, and at 17, newly embedded in a pretty thick singer-songwriter phase, I had any number of quiet, contemplative, 'sitting cross-legged on the floor in the sunlight' ditties to choose from, but I didn't have to think about it for too long. If You Could Read My Mind sprang to mind almost immediately. We were allowed to bring a Walkman to school and listen while we painted, and so I brought my little cassette mix tape to school, sat down, turned it up (but not so loud anyone could tell what I was listening to...;-) and dove in.

With ol' Gordy ringing gently in my ear, I went heavy with the blues and purples and created a harbor scene in acrylic. It was a view from the top of a hill, a kind of little town in the distance thing going on - cloud-strewn sky drizzling into the horizon, boats on the water, gulls in flight, a boat house, a tavern with a light out front, an empty slip or two, and one hilariously disproportionate lighthouse exploding up out of the center. Seriously, from the painting's point of view, relative to the other components, that sucker would have been about 2000 feet tall, and 500 feet in diameter.

Oh well. I'm pretty sure the cloud-strewn sky looked good (even with the odd 15-pound seagull), and I'd give anything to have kept the painting.

I still love the song. If You Could Read My Mind is a fine break-up song - subtly venomous, befitting Gordon Lightfoot's organic approach to song writing. It seems sweet and melancholy....his voice gentle, indeed...but it's not. Without overstatement or rancor, it actually cuts a thin but deep trench lengthwise along the soul of a failed relationship, from which bitterness seeps slowly.

Maybe that's why I wish I'd kept the painting. It wasn't any good...no good at all. But I wonder what about this song inspired something so bucolic as a harbor scene. And further, why that still feels like the right interpretation...?

"I don't know where we went wrong, but the feeling's gone and I just can't get it back..."

#155) "Hurt" by Johnny Cash - Testament to greatness being possible at any age, Johnny Cash's version of the Nine Inch Nails song has become his swan song, and rightfully so. This is one cover version that almost completely reinvents the original, but in a good way, scrapping the marginalizing (and often over-the-top) angst with which Trent Reznor made his name, and turning it radio friendly, ready for prime time, as it were, but without relinquishing any of the emotion...making it more potent, if anything. What's more, it's accompanied by a moving video depicting the Man in Black in the last days of his life....

And most potent of all, seeming to know he's in the last days of his life.

"And you can have it all, my empire of dirt..."