One More (?) Go Around: A Hundred Songs I Absolutely Must Have With Me on 1/48/50

#359) "A Country Boy Can Survive" by Hank Williams Jr. - Although I've always liked it, lately, I've started having mixed emotions about this song, and its message.  Don't get me wrong, it's not necessarily a bad message, at once a cautionary tale and affirmation of something seminal to our species which, while I can't relate to it entirely, I certainly acknowledge as truth. There's no denying that it's going to be "a country boy" who will survive when/if the shit hits the fan.  

But of course, this, like every other facet of American society, has become starkly politicized in recent years, thanks to our current president and those Americans who support him. "A country boy", and all that that implies and entails, has become this politically motivated (and painfully binary) red state v. blue state caricature in the 21st century. Less a matter of knowledge, vigilance and adaptability trumping (no pun intended) softness and entitlement, more something completely dumbed down, to the point of being silly and superficial: Toyota Prius drivers vs. Dodge Ram drivers. Wal-Mart shoppers vs. food co-op shoppers. Conservatives vs. 'libtards'. Recently, country music as a whole seems to have engaged and perpetuated this big time.

It shouldn't be this way. Nothing about our modern lives, nothing so serious in our lives, should be dumbed down to such depressingly one-dimensional terms, particularly in an age when we can't really trust what's being presented as unbiased facts - true hard news, devoid of spin - from any side.  But that's where we're at, and now, when I listen to this song, and for that matter, hear Williams' own public rhetoric over the years (which has become increasingly divisive...not for being conservative, but conspiratorial; real "Obama is a Kenyan-born Muslim extremist"-type horseshit, which I have no patience for), it reads a lot more self-righteous than it used to, and I just want to say, dude, simmer down, okay? Nobody wants to take away your Christmas tree.

And yet, again, there's no denying the song's truth.  I hope it doesn't come to this, pray the proverbial shit doesn't hit the proverbial fan, but if this big bloated technological house of cards, which keeps us fat and anything-but-happy on a gluttonous diet of wet-mashed glitter and sparkles ever collapses, really lurches straight down into its own footprint to the point where we've got a Walking Dead scenario on our hands (minus the zombies) ... a country boy will survive. And were that to happen, any individual with the ability to draw from the land and live without E! Hollywood True Story-style luxuries (or even Real Housewives of Canton, Ohio-style...) will simply have a better chance of surviving and adapting to long-term changes in our way of life, even the vanishing of our way of life. 

"A Country Boy Can Survive" has gone through some renovations over the years. Originally released in 1982 (making it a fairly prescient song, I'd say), it was covered by country artist Chad Brock in 1999 with altered lyrics to reflect the perceived threat of Y2K potentially rendering the entire world nothing but country boys, then again in 2001, by Hank Jr. himself in the aftermath of 9/11. Doubtless many fans (and Hank Jr.) would disagree, but I'm not down with that; not only because I've never been down with cover versions (even covers by the original artist), but also because the song stood on its own originally, answering something larger than mere politics and priorities of the moment, and should still stand, without having to be reconstituted.

"But he was killed by a man with a switchblade knife / For 43 dollars my friend lost his life..."

#360) "Turn to Stone" by Electric Light Orchestra - According to Jeff Lynne, the purpose of Electric Light Orchestra was to "pick up where the Beatles left off". A lofty goal, to say the least, but sometime before he was assassinated ten years after The Beatles left off, John Lennon completely validated this by calling ELO the "Sons of the Beatles", meaning, presumably, the heir apparent to the Fab Four's musical legacy. 

To be perfectly honest, I don't know that I would go that far. I think in their time they were innovative and harmony-rich enough to get Lennon's attention, however (and as always, it's just my opinion) whether a lot of ELO's music holds up 40 years later is open to debate.

And yet, "Turn to Stone" is one of those songs on this road trip list that seems to grab people's attention today just as it did in 1977. I've witnessed this first-hand, Millennials and Gen Y'ers at work responding to this song when it plays, asking me to turn it up. And I completely get why. With it's anxious-sounding harmonies, and subject matter, it's kind of timeless. 

"The dying embers of the night (a fire that slowly fades 'til dawn) / Still glow upon the wall so bright (turning, turning, turning)..."

One More (?) Go Around: A Hundred Songs I Absolutely Must Have With Me on 1/48/50

#357) "Hang Fire" by The Rolling Stones - Released in 1981, at the tail end of what might be considered the Stones' hey day, this is among the first songs I remember jamming out to, that is, jumping around my bedroom (or down in the living room if nobody was home), air-guitaring like nobody's business. I was both lead guitarist and singer in this imaginary band, electrified as much by the "doo doop doo-doo doo doop..." as anything. Still love it, still feel impelled to get the old band together in my mind when I listen to it, still think it's one of the Stones' best.

But what never occurred to me is what I read about the song as I prepared to write this post. According to Wikipedia anyway, "Hang Fire" is about the decline of the British economy throughout the 70s and the inability of politicians to do anything about it. Scanning the lyrics, that seems obvious now, but as often as I've jammed out to this song over the years, I never once made a connection between the lyrics and anything specific, at least nothing having to do with Britain...that is, until just now.  Maybe I was too distracted by the "doo doop doo-doo doo doop..."

And really, can you blame me?  ;-)

"You know marrying money is a full time job / I don't need the aggravation, I'm a lazy slob..."

#358) "Out of Tears" by The Rolling Stones - By 1994, the Rolling Stones had taken their place in the pantheon of rock legends. While that's doubtless a venerable spot to be, the place any artist would one day like to get to, it means you're not cool or current anymore.  It means styles and predilections have changed, the world has, collectively, passed you by, and while you might truly be great, "legendary", you are no longer what the kids are dancing to, and no matter how enthusiastically you try to spin it, that simply cannot feel like anything other than a downgrade.

I would imagine...

Since the early 80s, which for my money is when their "current" status started to wane, the Stones have never really had a comeback, but they've never really gone away either. "Strolling Bones" they may have become (such fate awaits us all), but the fact is, they are still strolling, still touring and packing in audiences. And the truth is, their music never gets stale. The phrase "moves like Jagger" can refer to more than just his behavior on stage...it can also refer to the sheer durability of the band's music, the fact that it should still interest new generations, in some measure (that I've observed) more so than the Beatles.

Known for their rock anthems, The Stones have never been slouches when it comes to writing ballads..."Angie", "Wild Horses"....both are suitable precursors to the drafty, lonesome resignation that colors "Out of Tears", a song that like the other two, engages a certain emotional nihilism in the face of the end, but also (befitting the fact that this song was released in 1994, not 1965...or 1973) a certain maturity.  Whatever that end may be, whatever the situation, such is all that's left when the dust settles: an inability to weep anymore being the only thing offering hope of moving on.   

Really a gorgeous song...and a gorgeous ending.

"I can drift, I can dream, 'til I float off your screen..."

One More (?) Go Around: A Hundred Songs I Absolutely Must Have With Me on 1/48/50

 #355) "Ain't Even Done With the Night" by John Mellencamp - John Mellencamp is kind of an enigma. He's an American small-towner, proponent and defender of the perceived sanctity of family farms and dirt roads and cornfields and small towns and general stores and bright afternoon sunlight glowing through frosted gymnasium windows just after school, as girls congregate in the bleachers checking their makeup and watching the boys down on the hardwood, who are running practice drills and pretending not to notice...and all that. 

Yet he's not a good old boy...not exactly...and if you look back at the height of his career in the 1980s, none of his work could be called bare bones anything. There was always something else going on, a certain artistic expression, a certain polish, that pushed him right to edge of legitimacy without ever pushing him too far. That's because John Mellencamp really is an artist, fully capable of bringing to bear a vision without ever letting it become overstated or obvious, or fake. He's kind of like the Billy Joel of the Heartland, except the argument has been made (by others, not me) that Billy Joel allowed his craft to push him a bit too far off the city streets and into schmaltz, whereas Mellencamp always seemed - to me anyway - legit. That is, always knowing completely that which he was singing about.

Just the name of the 1980 album on which "Ain't Even Done With the Night" appears suggests a certain expanded state of mind: Nothin' Matters, and What if it Did.  That's pretty heady, and any small towner who earnestly engages that kind of rhetoric is the one I want to sit and have a few beers with.

Sublimely tender without ever becoming too much so, "Ain't Even Done with the Night" sways, swings and bumps its way along with equal parts confidence and clumsiness, mirroring the vulnerable nature of the lyrics. It's fun, funny, sexy and pathetic all at once, not to mention compellingly pretty, and never allows whatever vulnerability might be afoot to quash a stellar sense of anticipation.

"Well I don't even know if I'm doin' this right..."

#356) "All Those Years Ago" by George Harrison -  My introduction to the Beatles came in two parts when I was eight years old: first the assassination of John Lennon in December 1980. When it happened, I was mostly just annoyed, because coverage of the tragedy interrupted my after-school TV viewing (a full week of The Brady Bunch, The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show and Battle of the Planets got pre-empted), but eventually I learned, through my parents, who John Lennon was, what the Beatles were, and how significant that impossible tragedy was.

Then, a few months later, George Harrison's musical tribute to his fallen friend was released and pretty much defined the year 1981 for me, turned me into a Beatlemaniac for life. 

This is more of a thing all around as I age, but man, when this song was new, I really considered "all those years ago" to be some mythical epoch long, long ago, covered in the dust of the ages and only detectable through the micro-lens of George Harrison's first-hand songwriting. But it was barely 15 years past that Harrison was singing about when he sang about it. Not even one generation. The Boomers were barely into their thirties at the time, and Gen X...well, we were all still kids. Nowadays, of course, fifteen years feels more like the amount of time it takes to lift a coffee mug to my lips, take a drink and set it back down. 

As to the song itself, it's one of Harrison's best, and the "quiet Beatle" had a lot of songs that placed him shoulder to shoulder with the "Lennon-McCartney" songwriting juggernaut. I think it's brilliantly suited to its subject matter, bonded seamlessly to melancholy and reminiscing, with Harrison's uniquely bittersweet musical signature - gentle humor, and winsome-sounding chords strained like juice from a citrus fruit.  Maybe that's a tortured metaphor, but I'm sticking with it. ;-)

"You were the one that they said was so weird..."

One More (?) Go Around: A Hundred Songs I Absolutely Must Have With Me on 1/48/50

 #353) "Walk on the Wild Side" by Lou Reed - One of those songs that's probably been stylish to say you like (even if you don't) since its release, I must state that until recently, I wasn't a fan. I appreciated it objectively, recognized how significant it was that a song like this, giving voice to something completely unknown or stubbornly unrecognized at the time, got recorded and released and made it all the way to #16 on the American charts in 1972, the year I was born. It was way ahead of its time, and pretty edgy, I'd imagine (in a year when The Brady Bunch was part of ABC's prime time lineup), without being repulsive.

And that's its greatest weapon, I'd say: the mysterious serum created with just a few musical ingredients: a spartan arrangement of alienated-sounding bass, horns and lightly brushed percussion paired with tired vocals that have trouble standing on their own (in critical need of help from the "colored girls", who totally step up). It just sounds like the streets, I think, sounds like everything it's talking about and everything going on around what it's talking about. I remember listening to this song years ago and hearing, but not really listening.  Now - I don't really know why - it's hypnotic, to the point of being a little unsettling. 

Doubtless, as intended. 

"Plucked her eyebrows on the way, shaved her legs and then he was a she..."

#354) "Against all Odds (Take a Look at Me Now)" by Phil Collins - It's not often that a song written specifically for a movie soundtrack is...well, any good at all, much less superb. Written (by Collins) and named for the 1984 flick starring Rachel Ward and Jeff Bridges, "Against All Odds" ebbs and flows seamlessly between tender ballad and blustery power ballad, with Collins' vocals seaming to tie it all together for his ability to sing tenderly then, on a dime, pour it all out.  Heavy and brooding from the outset, it explodes suddenly with a clap of Collins' thunderous drumming (which I often think is overstated in his music, but not here...), then snaps back.  It explodes again...then snaps back, leaving a sense of uncertainty, of questions waiting to be answered. It's a really unusual experience when I listen to this song. Definitely not a garden variety soft rock 80s hit, "Against All Odds" is musical craftsmanship.

"You're the only one who really knew me at all..."