#187) "The Heart of the Matter" by Don Henley - A candidate for the "They Don't Write 'Em Like This Anymore" Hall of Fame (at least not with any hope of scoring a Top 40 hit), "The Heart of the Matter" might in some ways be considered the swan song to Henley's career (at least the commercially successful portion of it). But in my opinion, outside of perhaps "The Boys of Summer" (which it could be said is in a class by itself), it's also the most shining example of his contribution to pop music overall, a deserving paradigm for the whole Eagles/Don Henley/California rock vibe.
Inasmuch as any of us bother to cobble together music on playlists in hopes of creating the soundtrack of our lives, to whatever extent we assign certain songs a vaunted status and believe we very well could have written them ourselves, the message of this song is the universally held last word for all people everywhere. When the dust has settled from our trials and tribulations, our grand gestures and bitter disappointments, our hey days and hurt feelings, our back stabbing and stabs at glory, it is forgiveness - rather than love - that holds, and will hold, the universe together.
"I've been trying to get down to the heart of the matter / Because the flesh will get weak, and the ashes will scatter..."
#188) "Tush" by ZZ Top - On the other hand, there is a certain "last word" evident in this song too. In the end, each and every one of us is searching for, and/or craving, the profound emotional and psychological depths made accessible by physical contact with others, which, make no mistake, are present - the driving force - in even the seediest one night stand. In other words, every sexual encounter, even the dirty ones, and whether we realize it, is as much a matter of psychological gratification as it is physical.
In any case, I MUCH prefer this version of ZZ Top (from 1975) to the half-baked ZZ Top I grew up with in the early days of MTV. "Legs" (for instance) is for my money among the lamest rock songs (and dumbest videos) ever.
Whereas "Tush" still tears it up, all these years later. Not a lot of this on Top 40 radio anymore either, and that's too bad.
"I've been bad, I've been good / Dallas, Texas, Hollywood / I ain't asking for much..."
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Seriously, "Legs" might one day kick off the list of Top 100 songs I absolutely will NOT be taking with me on 1/48/50...;-)
Showing posts with label don henley. Show all posts
Showing posts with label don henley. Show all posts
Friday, April 1, 2016
Friday, March 18, 2016
The NEXT Top 100 (or so) Songs I Absolutely Must Have With Me on 1/48/50 (cont...)
#183) "When October Goes" by Barry Manilow - Once again, Barry Manilow proves that he is capable of being soulful, performing something that engenders looking the audience in the eye as he sings, rather than gazing vapidly out at the exit signs while cheesy-love-lines-set-to-music dribble out of his mouth.
Manilow had a hand in writing this one too. So the story goes, he was given lyrics written by Johnny Mercer shortly before Mercer's death. He put those lyrics to a solemn melody well-suited to the subject matter, and aptly created a potent musical cocktail. For my money, "When October Goes" is Manilow's most durable - if not memorable - song.
Of course, the first time you hear it, it immediately becomes memorable...far more memorable, in my opinion, than any of the songs that made him famous. It's not music to party to (or drive to, really), but haunting and insightful, it is, for better or worse, where you find yourself going as the years pass and there's less partying, more time for thinking about things, after you start to realize (and have to accept) that you're not going to live forever.
"It doesn't matter much, how old I grow / I hate to see October go..."
#184) "The End of the Innocence" by Don Henley - An inconvenient truth, but undeniable: rarely do artists, of any genre of music, improve with age. The lucky and/or talented ones start out strong, drawing from the vitality of their own youthfulness, and tapping into something coursing through the collective vein of the times they were born to. But time passes and times change, passions cool, and the luminosity of nearly all star power - even the greats, even the game changers - transforms with age. It doesn't flash out, necessarily, but it changes hue, and surely dims.
There have been exceptions: the Beatles just kept getting better and better throughout their short span of years (of course, they were pretty killer from day one); Johnny Cash did the best work of his career right around the time he reached retirement age. Tom Waits has changed course musically over the years in the interest of staying innovative, and in doing so, also created his most notable work in the back nine. Aerosmith were rock gods in the 70s, fell apart, then were completely revitalized by Run DMC in 1986, after which they carried out a second act of stardom some would say eclipsed their first. Sometimes an untimely death makes a difference: Elvis was a bonafide has-been in the years leading up to his passing in 1977 at age 42. Post-mortem was when he became truly larger than life, the "ELVIS!" we know today.
But those are exceptions. Popular music is driven primarily by youth and vitality. It's about having the energy to anticipate and seek out the best and beautiful in life, and eventually we all cross a point at which much of that energy is behind us. When you're a celebrity, you not only have to deal with your own changes, but changes in your audience as well. So you really have just two choices, to paraphrase Neil Young: burn out early, or just fade away.
Don Henley is on the short list of artists who forged an impressive second act. He was a major player in a major band in the 1970s, and then in the 80s established himself, for a while, as a valid and relevant solo artist.
That impressive second act culminated with 1989's The End of the Innocence, an album in which he brought all of it home, all of his stuff (so to speak), as an artist, a man, and a baby boomer.
This is not hip or stylish music...even way back then, standing on that precipice between hair metal and grunge, "The End of the Innocence" seemed "old" to this 17-year-old. It was "adult" music, and lacked the energy to get me keyed up. But now, I get it...I sooo get it...potently nostalgic without ever becoming overly-sentimental, and with help from Bruce Hornsby's stalwart piano riff and a chilling horn solo, "The End of the Innocence" is just plain gorgeous, not a song, so much, as a type of warm musical bathwater to be slipped into, in moments when we take stock of our lives.
"I need to remember this, so baby give me just one kiss / And let me take a long last look, before we say goodbye..."
Manilow had a hand in writing this one too. So the story goes, he was given lyrics written by Johnny Mercer shortly before Mercer's death. He put those lyrics to a solemn melody well-suited to the subject matter, and aptly created a potent musical cocktail. For my money, "When October Goes" is Manilow's most durable - if not memorable - song.
Of course, the first time you hear it, it immediately becomes memorable...far more memorable, in my opinion, than any of the songs that made him famous. It's not music to party to (or drive to, really), but haunting and insightful, it is, for better or worse, where you find yourself going as the years pass and there's less partying, more time for thinking about things, after you start to realize (and have to accept) that you're not going to live forever.
"It doesn't matter much, how old I grow / I hate to see October go..."
#184) "The End of the Innocence" by Don Henley - An inconvenient truth, but undeniable: rarely do artists, of any genre of music, improve with age. The lucky and/or talented ones start out strong, drawing from the vitality of their own youthfulness, and tapping into something coursing through the collective vein of the times they were born to. But time passes and times change, passions cool, and the luminosity of nearly all star power - even the greats, even the game changers - transforms with age. It doesn't flash out, necessarily, but it changes hue, and surely dims.
There have been exceptions: the Beatles just kept getting better and better throughout their short span of years (of course, they were pretty killer from day one); Johnny Cash did the best work of his career right around the time he reached retirement age. Tom Waits has changed course musically over the years in the interest of staying innovative, and in doing so, also created his most notable work in the back nine. Aerosmith were rock gods in the 70s, fell apart, then were completely revitalized by Run DMC in 1986, after which they carried out a second act of stardom some would say eclipsed their first. Sometimes an untimely death makes a difference: Elvis was a bonafide has-been in the years leading up to his passing in 1977 at age 42. Post-mortem was when he became truly larger than life, the "ELVIS!" we know today.
But those are exceptions. Popular music is driven primarily by youth and vitality. It's about having the energy to anticipate and seek out the best and beautiful in life, and eventually we all cross a point at which much of that energy is behind us. When you're a celebrity, you not only have to deal with your own changes, but changes in your audience as well. So you really have just two choices, to paraphrase Neil Young: burn out early, or just fade away.
Don Henley is on the short list of artists who forged an impressive second act. He was a major player in a major band in the 1970s, and then in the 80s established himself, for a while, as a valid and relevant solo artist.
That impressive second act culminated with 1989's The End of the Innocence, an album in which he brought all of it home, all of his stuff (so to speak), as an artist, a man, and a baby boomer.
This is not hip or stylish music...even way back then, standing on that precipice between hair metal and grunge, "The End of the Innocence" seemed "old" to this 17-year-old. It was "adult" music, and lacked the energy to get me keyed up. But now, I get it...I sooo get it...potently nostalgic without ever becoming overly-sentimental, and with help from Bruce Hornsby's stalwart piano riff and a chilling horn solo, "The End of the Innocence" is just plain gorgeous, not a song, so much, as a type of warm musical bathwater to be slipped into, in moments when we take stock of our lives.
"I need to remember this, so baby give me just one kiss / And let me take a long last look, before we say goodbye..."
Friday, February 21, 2014
The Top 100 (or so) Songs I Absolutely Must Have With Me on 1/48/50 (cont...)
#84) "Amarillo by Morning" by George Strait - I'm not a fan of horses, somewhat wary of an animal so large and so aware of what's going on around it, and the one and only time I went riding resulted in my face and eyes swelling up like tomatoes...from an allergic reaction to horse hair, or hay, or something. Nevertheless, I'm a sucker for a good 'cowboy' song (the late Chris Ledoux has some douxzies...;-). They often exist in that singular emotional moment I speak of, which the best songs of any genre capture handily by looking neither too far ahead, nor too far behind.
1983's Amarillo by Morning is a good example of the difference between capturing a moment in the life of someone who just happens to be a cowboy - story-telling in its most basic sense - and perpetuating a stereotype, which is what country music seems to do best nowadays. George Strait's pared down delivery coupled with an equally austere instrumentation complement the story of someone who is actually pretty nebulous, between towns and between lives.
This particular cowboy's thoughts do not travel much past later that day, bucking at the county fair, though it's clear it's a long way to fall from where he once was. The melody is haunting, but never becomes mawkish, and at the end, the fiddle keeps going after everything else has stopped, until it too fades away like the night, leaving me with the impression that the song is still playing somewhere, for someone.
And what fuels a road trip, what sparks wanderlust with greater fidelity, than the maddeningly delicious thought of everything that's going on at any given moment in all the places you aren't?
"I ain't rich, but Lord I'm free..."
#85) "The Secret of Life" by Faith Hill - Penned by one of the best songwriters in country music (Gretchen Peters), Faith Hill brings to life this reflection on priorities and simple pleasures, makes it 'ready for prime time' with her voice and star power. Once more, I generally don't go for songs bent on teaching me a lesson, but Peters' philosophy and wit temper the preachy-ness here, and the song turns into a potent cautionary tale for one powerful line, at just the right moment.
"Ad on TV says 'just do it' / hell if I know what that means..."
#86) "The Boys of Summer" by Don Henley - To me, The Boys of Summer isn't so much a song as an experience.
It's what it sounds like when rain starts to drench a sidewalk that's been baking in the sun all afternoon, and it is the feeling that comes when that storm has passed, when all that remains are flooded streets to splash through, and you realize that you are at a crossroads in your life, that it might very well be the end of an era, and the wind that follows the storm, which comes from the southwest and is warm in the manner of slowly drawn butter, means more than it ever has before, and might ever again.
"Out on the road today, I saw a deadhead sticker on a Cadillac..."
1983's Amarillo by Morning is a good example of the difference between capturing a moment in the life of someone who just happens to be a cowboy - story-telling in its most basic sense - and perpetuating a stereotype, which is what country music seems to do best nowadays. George Strait's pared down delivery coupled with an equally austere instrumentation complement the story of someone who is actually pretty nebulous, between towns and between lives.
This particular cowboy's thoughts do not travel much past later that day, bucking at the county fair, though it's clear it's a long way to fall from where he once was. The melody is haunting, but never becomes mawkish, and at the end, the fiddle keeps going after everything else has stopped, until it too fades away like the night, leaving me with the impression that the song is still playing somewhere, for someone.
And what fuels a road trip, what sparks wanderlust with greater fidelity, than the maddeningly delicious thought of everything that's going on at any given moment in all the places you aren't?
"I ain't rich, but Lord I'm free..."
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HORSE'S ASS - My one and only trail ride was spent sneezing and wheezing my way through an allergic fit, and culminated with two swollen, red eyes and congested lungs. I think my expression, as I gratefully guide 'Moose' back to his stable, says it all.
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#85) "The Secret of Life" by Faith Hill - Penned by one of the best songwriters in country music (Gretchen Peters), Faith Hill brings to life this reflection on priorities and simple pleasures, makes it 'ready for prime time' with her voice and star power. Once more, I generally don't go for songs bent on teaching me a lesson, but Peters' philosophy and wit temper the preachy-ness here, and the song turns into a potent cautionary tale for one powerful line, at just the right moment.
"Ad on TV says 'just do it' / hell if I know what that means..."
#86) "The Boys of Summer" by Don Henley - To me, The Boys of Summer isn't so much a song as an experience.
It's what it sounds like when rain starts to drench a sidewalk that's been baking in the sun all afternoon, and it is the feeling that comes when that storm has passed, when all that remains are flooded streets to splash through, and you realize that you are at a crossroads in your life, that it might very well be the end of an era, and the wind that follows the storm, which comes from the southwest and is warm in the manner of slowly drawn butter, means more than it ever has before, and might ever again.
"Out on the road today, I saw a deadhead sticker on a Cadillac..."
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