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

 #380) "Don't Go Breaking my Heart" by Elton John and Kiki Dee - Yep, I know, not a ton going on musically here, not much to sink your teeth into. The melody doesn't lead anywhere, the lyrics don't lead anywhere. It's just a watery (if pleasant) little poof of 1970s pop pap. Moreover, I have no particular childhood memories associated with this song, nor do I really remember much about 1970s-era Elton John, or anything about Kiki Dee, and most damning to the warrant for placing it on this list, I don't even remember this song playing in my parents' bookstore all that much, if at all. I cannot recall it burbling from that beloved and accursed AM radio that sat on the sun-soaked south-facing windowsill behind the front counter, that little black and gray plastic fountain of music with the retractable antenna that introduced me to - and indoctrinated me with - so much Seventies gold bathed in so much golden Seventies late-morning / early afternoon sunlight.

And yet, "this song" did in fact play in my dad's bookstore, I'm sure of it. "This song", in a composite sense, was always playing, burbling continuously from that musical fountain picking up whatever local station was brushing the airwaves in its best precursor-to-"Lite Hits"-and-"Adult Contemporary"-radio fashion. I have no doubt "this song" dribbled out of that radio's tiny tweeters as my dad price-marked leftover Bicentennial merchandise half-off and cleverly placed last month's unsold, cover-stripped men's mags in brown paper bags and rebranded them "Slick Packs" (a masterful marketing maneuver if ever there were one), as I snuck penny candy out of the top shelf of the candy bar, my mom counted store inventory, and my brother fought a neighbor kid who was always waiting for him on the next block when he and I walked, ironically enough, to karate lessons at the youth center.

It's the specific time in my life that "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" represents that makes me want it along on 1/48/50, evident in the song's very structure: the watery, disco-ish beat, the stringy string accompaniment, the feel-good sentiment from that cramped space in American history - post-Vietnam, pre-Reagan 80s - the time represented hilariously and brilliantly in the movie "Dazed and Confused" (which gave us Ben Affleck's most terrifying role: Fred O'Bannion). 

I was a young kid then, already on the lookout for Fred O'Bannions in my daycare / pre-school /  kindergarten midst, but still safe in the knowledge that nothing would ever change as I accompanied my dad to his bookstore on so many sunny Saturday mornings, spent long stretches of summer days in and out of it. While it's possible I never actually heard "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" prior to many years later when the 70s became an historic era to look back on, I have no doubt it was there.

"Honey if I get restless / Baby you're not that kind ..."  

#381) "I'm Still Standing" by Elton John - "I'm Still Standing" was actually my first exposure to Elton John, as well as one of the first videos I can remember watching on MTV, back in those crazy early days when the "M" still stood for "Music". In the great annals of Reginald Dwight musical history, I think this one holds up, although it probably gets dismissed by music snobs for what they might consider  its throwaway pop sensibilities.  

It could be said it's not unlike "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" in this respect, but I think "I'm Still Standing" is much more durable, possesses much more gravitas, both musically and lyrically. It's just more interesting all around, and catchy as all get-out. In fact, I would venture it's a prime example of Elton John and Bernie Taupin at their pop songwriting best. 

"Your blood like winter freezes just like ice / And there's a cold lonely light that shines from you ... " 

 

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

#378) "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" by The Hollies - I'm thinking I might have to declare this the greatest song ever recorded. Well, okay, I don't have to, but I guess I really want to. Every time I listen to it, it makes me want to. 

I've been blabbing in this space for years now. A lot of good music has been blabbed about, a lot of similar declarations about musical magnificence made, but when it comes to urgent, excitable ballads, songs with a message, and in terms of overall musicality, there's nothing about this 1969 single I would do any different.

From the first squealing (and evocatively off-tune) harmonica wail, to the melted drizzle of the chords, to singer Allan Clarke's vocals (seeming to match the harmonica), the blue sky harmonies and that cirrus cloud-style orchestration I love so much (very much a musical memento that makes a lot of soft music from the 1960s and early 70s great in my opinion), right down to the message of the song itself (the lovely story of its inspiration dating back to a young Scottish girl in the nineteenth century), "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" performs like lace curtains; it covers the window, obscures sight of the ugliness outside just enough to bring relief, without ever preventing sunlight from streaming in. This is one of those rare songs that simultaneously fills my heart with joy and sorrow.

"The road is long, with many a winding turn / That leads us to who knows where, who knows where ..."

 #379) "Got You (Where I Want You)" by The Flys - Not the greatest song ever recorded, necessarily, but a sturdy jam cut from a very specific time in my life (and doubtless the lives of many Gen X'ers ... a crossroads, for sure), this weirdly ideal driving song (perfect for 1/48/50) has aged well, never sounds dated, which might be why it's a good driving song, especially if you're driving somewhere new.

And if you're driving alone, come on, try, try, try not to sing along with the chorus. ;)

"Well, I think you're smart, you sweet thing / Tell me your sign, I'm dying here ... "

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

#376 -  "Arrow Through Me" by Paul McCartney and Wings - Seems every time Sir Paul winds up on this 1/48/50 list, I have the same glowing things to say, primarily about his range as an artist. There's a lot of good music out there, fine songwriters, musicians and performers, but a very short list of artists who have been able to swing so effortlessly between styles, with no awkward (read: unconvincing) overlap, and all music that they wrote themselves. 

Just within the short six years The Beatles were in America, he gave us, "Helter Skelter', and "Yesterday", "Oh Darling!" and "Let It Be", "Why Don't We Do It in the Road?" and "Mother Nature's Son".  "Penny Lane", and "And I Love Her". Yes, I know they're all credited as "Lennon-McCartney", but any Beatles fan worth his/her salt knows that they mostly wrote their own music. To that end, Lennon certainly contributed mightily to that which made the Beatles The Beatles, but was he as far-ranging as McCartney, musically speaking? As seamlessly adept at the execution? Nah, I don't think so.

And McCartney kept up this unique musical range throughout the 1970s, with Wings: "Maybe I'm Amazed" and "Let Em In".  "Silly Love Songs" and "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey".  "Jet" and "Listen to What the Man Said".  "Live and Let Die" and "My Love". 

And then there's "Arrow Through Me" (like Maude!), from 1979.  Just when you think there isn't anywhere else for the man to go musically, or perhaps more accurately, nowhere else you think he will go, along comes something almost experimental-sounding, with an undulating melody and crisp, funk-inspired rhythmic and bass hooks, a kind of a musical mélange, to which McCartney adds some sassy brass and clavinet chords being turned inside out repeatedly, like someone working a stress ball, as he alternately (and handily) shrieks and croons in his inimitable Macca style.  

It's completely different, and yet unmistakably McCartney. A perennial joy to listen to. Far and away my favorite from the Wings era, and I'd venture one of his best of all time, although when it comes to McCartney, perhaps that notion is more open to debate than your average artist.

"You wouldn't have found a more down hero ... "

#377 - "Sunday Will Never be the Same" by Spanky and Our Gang - I was lucky, I think. This and so many other songs like it from the 60s and 70s formed nothing less than the architecture of my emotional state when I was kid. My parents owned a bookstore and there was a little AM radio on the window sill behind the cash register, and whatever station they were tuned into always played "sunshine pop" and "AM gold", all of the music that to this day people are quick to scorn and/or mock, yet secretly love at the same time. I wouldn't want to be my age and only ever listening to The Carpenters, but it's not a bad serenade to being anywhere from four to ten years old. 

Some insist on dismissing this kind of music as bubblegum schlock, and maybe that's what it was at the time. Maybe it could be argued that in 1967, songs like "Sunday Will Never be the Same" paled in comparison to what innovative and ground-breaking stuff the Beatles or the Stones or the Who were putting out, and might also be argued that even today the two camps don't compare.

But perhaps they don't compare because it's apples to oranges. If you want to go apples to apples, a fair, direct comparison, you have to compare the "schlock" (the one hit wonders, fast buck feel good ditties and cheesy love songs) of the 60s and 70s to the "schlock" of 80s, 90s and beyond, and by that yardstick, I maintain that post-1980 schlock does not age as well as pre-1980. 

I think much of this has to do with the fact that songs of this type were once built upon melody, rather than rhythm, and more so the fact that the whole process of writing popular music and either performing it yourself or finding someone else to perform it, did not take a pre-fab concept of "celebrity" into consideration so readily.  Nowadays, some form of a slick, glittery celebrity aesthetic is never too far removed from popular music of any kind or quality.  Artists need to look a certain way, comport themselves just so, say the right things at the right time (and lately, take caution never to say the wrong thing, while praying nobody discovers the "wrong" things they may have said 15 years ago). It's all slick and polished, carefully prescribed, produced, and more importantly, presented to a painstakingly scrutinizing audience who know nothing else other than the brightly but artificially colored, hi def world they grew up in, in which image isn't everything, it's the only thing. And that's not even to say that the music is better or worse, necessarily, just different. There are talented artists now, and good music being made, but it is roundly less organic, less accessible, less viscerally felt, I'd say, because the emphasis, the driving force, is always on the artist before the listener. 

"Sunday Will Never be the Same" wasn't about Spanky and our Gang as a group, as entertainers, so much as simply about the Sunday it speaks of, the park, the dying embers of love as clouds roll in. The listener could relate without any need to see Spanky and Our Gang, or care whether they were cool enough to be celebrities. This is a tricky and subtle point I'm making, open to debate surely, but definitely worthy of debate. 

Er, right? 😉

"Nobody waiting for me / Sunday's just another day..."

Road Rage

The other day I was waiting in the drive-thru at the bank, and in a fairly pissy mood. The weather had been shit all day, I'd been stuck in the line for over twenty minutes, and when the vehicle ahead of me didn't move on quick enough so that I could finally get up to the window, make my deposit, and go home, I blew my horn as a means of nudging it along. I didn't lay on the horn, but didn't merely tap it either. It was about a one-second yawp in the Key of F to express my impatience with this driver, and yes, also my general aggravation with an entirely unconcerned world.

The gentlemen driving the vehicle had just started to pull away, but when I blew my horn he braked, put it back in park, and climbed out. He took two steps toward me, spread his hands out and said, "Is there something wrong with me?"

Yes, there is, I thought. You sat there diddling on your phone with your foot holding the brake for a full 45 seconds before moving forward, demonstrating a gross lack of courtesy, a total disregard for the preciousness of anyone's time other than your own.

I didn't say that though. Instead, I passively swiped my hand in front of me, shook my head, and said, "Naw, we're good."

He was not a physically imposing individual; that wasn't the issue. He was short, and thin, and in his early 60s, if not older. Whether I could "take" him in a physical fight didn't matter, just as whether he should have immediately moved his ass after the bank teller completed his transaction didn't ultimately matter, no matter how much I thought it should in the moment. I'd inadvertently baited him, he was outraged, and it was incumbent upon me to suck up my pride and keep the situation from escalating. I had no way of knowing how pissed off he was (read: what he might have been capable of), and no way of telling if he might have had a gun in his vehicle, or on his person, in this state, which allows permitted concealed carry, so I "squashed it" (to borrow a line from Beverly Hills 90210 a hundred years ago), and it was the right call. I cooled my own jets, and he cooled his, got back in his car and drove off.

But the near-incident illustrated how low the flashpoint of people's rage is. It really doesn't take much to get someone flying off the handle, and that's got me reconsidering my own behavior when I'm driving around, especially on any extended trip. I'm not a hot head, exactly, I don't freak out over every little slight that comes my way (in a reversed situation, my response to him blowing his horn would have been to mutter, "yeah, okay, calm down, asshole..." to myself, before moving on...), but I can't say I've never laid on the horn, can't say I've never flipped anyone the bird, although it's almost always been in response to the other person doing it first. What can I say? I'm human. I fuck up sometimes, don't always have the right answer. But I will say that the older I get, the less often it happens. Thank God for that.

Road rage isn't really a new phenomenon. There were TV news stories about it when I was growing up in the 80s. Back then it was presented as a new, burgeoning phenomenon, and largely centered around urban areas, where traffic congestion tweaked the nerves of drivers on a daily basis. I seem to recall a kind of, "What's happening to our nation's urban freeways...?" theme. 

That, of course, is no longer true, if it ever really was. Road rage happens everywhere now, on all types of roads, in all types of places, involving all types of people of all ages, and YouTube provides a harrowing glimpse into how frequently it happens, how easily it can escalate, and indeed, just what people are capable of when it does. You watch enough of those videos depicting intersection screaming matches, angry tapping on driver-side glass or punching of hoods, the aggressive, multi-lane maneuvers, the occasional brandishing of firearms, it's hard to keep faith that anyone "squashes" anything anymore, hard to believe that we're not going (or gone) off the rails as a society.

I have a couple of completely unscientific theories as to why road rage happens (that is, frequently enough to qualify as a phenomenon):  

1) We're in motion when we're in a car, but we're not in control of that motion really, or at least always on the precipice of losing it. Instinctively, we know that something catastrophic could happen in a split second to wrest it from our grasp, and even if it's not something we consciously think about all the time, we're not at all okay with that notion. It makes us anxious ... puts us on guard.

2) Our feet aren't touching the ground, which further makes us feel vulnerable, and we're sitting down to boot, so when someone gets too close, or almost sideswipes us, or cuts us off, our kneejerk response is amplified.

I don't know if there's any warrant to either of those points, but they make sense, don't they?

Road rage is, in any case, a pretty horrible part of modern American life, and something to consider when I take this long road trip. On one hand, 1/48/50 will be an epically restorative experience. There will be something grand about having nowhere to be for an extended period of time, just tooling around here and there, wherever the wind (or the road) takes me, going places I've never been and will be unlikely to ever visit again.

But there will be a lot of driving, a lot of time stuck in my vehicle - that is, sitting down with my feet off the ground - and I wouldn't want a situation like what began to boil at my bank the other day to escalate when I'm in an unfamiliar town, or a thousand miles from nowhere (or anywhere ever, actually).  I can't really control how anyone else responds or reacts, but I can do my part, by keeping off the horn and keeping my middle finger in its holster. 

Also just by keeping my own anger in check, and the best way to do this is by keeping perspective: about how insignificant I am in the great cosmic all, and how unconcerned the world really is whether I get angry or not. It's not worth the elevated blood pressure, much less (God forbid) facing what may lie in wait at the end of an escalation. 

Just shake it off, reset, and drive on.

"Squash it!" ;-) 

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

 #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..."

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

 #351) "Wide Open Spaces" by The Dixie Chicks - How fresh this song. 

Even two decades after being abandoned (as everything is) by a society that moves forward ceaselessly with precious little time or inclination for looking back, and a musical industry and fanbase that within a few years of this song's release, decided it'd had enough of singer Natalie Maines' right to free speech, "Wide Open Spaces" still spritzes finely, freshly, a sun-dappled rumination, two parts hope, one half part melancholy. It was popular when I worked in "hot country" radio - as were The Dixie Chicks - and will always have a place - in my eyes - among the gold standards of 90s country music - a softer, more reasonable, less blustery (and less manic) approach to all things "country".

Some might say too soft, too "pop"...and come to think of it, I might have been one of those during the many weeks in late 1998 when this song dominated all-request Friday nights. But 20 years is a long time, plenty of time to realize your big mistakes. The message of the song has outlasted the generations. There are lots of country songs about the redneck lifestyle and patriotism and trucks and bars and zippity doo da, but precious few in the genre, from any decade, that touch on such a specific, but intimately important, and grandly timeless, theme, whether you're a city mouse or a county mouse: setting out on your own for the first time, and all the anticipation and anxiety, all the joy, surprise and sometimes sorrow found there.

"But now she won't be coming back with the rest..."

#352) "Hello It's Me" by Todd Rundgren - Todd Rundgren is on my short list of musical geniuses, those individuals who make innovation and real step-outside-the-box creativity part of their brand, who are successful at creating a musical signature that simply could not be anyone else.  Rundgren has had a hand producing some monumental albums for other artists over the years, among them Meat Loaf's "Bat Out of Hell" and XTC's "Skylarking", but his own music is just....I don't know...perhaps it's most accurate to say it's difficult to describe, but impossible to ignore. 

Nowhere is this more true than with "Hello It's Me", one of his radio hits from 1972's Something/Anything?   All of the bizarrely charming elements that make a Todd Rundgren song are at play here - odd chord progressions, a masterful command of harmony and self-effacing humor, a flat vocal style that - again - you can't really stop listening to. 

Difficult to describe. Impossible to ignore.

"'Cause I never want to make you change for me..." 

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

#345) "Rattlesnake" by Live - They've been around for a long time, but I barely noticed Live back in the day. In no way is that meant as a dig at them, more an acknowledgement of their surprisingly long carrer spent flying just under the radar, never taking their place among the more prominent bands of the 90s, even though their body of work is pretty rock solid. They are that band, where you hear a song, you remember it, remember loving it even at some point in your past, but you're not sure whose song it is.

In fact, were it not for a buddy, I'd never have heard "Rattlesnake", from 1997s Secret Samadhi, though when I did, it quickly became, and has remained, a seminal song for me, a dark and cryptic but completely accurate portrayal of my existence when I was in my twenties, I guess everyone's existence in their twenties - that lull in the action, when you're no longer a kid, but not doing anything particularly interesting or dynamic, when, without fail, the party starts becoming a little lamer with each passing week, month and year.

"The rack is full, and so are we, of laughing gas, and ennui..."

But it's more than that. "Rattlesnake" has always made me think of the tenuous grasp we have over what we know as reality, how fleeting our sense of place in that reality actually is. I think a lot about that these days, as I've aged, faced mortality in a steadily dwindling sphere of time, but even twenty years ago, when it was still all before me and I couldn't see the top, bottom or sides of the sphere, this song inspired those thoughts. There but for the gentle breath of a butterfly's wings go I...as I think I know myself.

"In another place, in another time, I'd be driving trucks my dear / I'd be skinning hunted deer..."

#346) "Wrack my Brain" by Ringo Starr - Far and away, my favorite post-Beatles Beatle song, "Wrack my Brain" was written by George Harrison, and if you know anything about such things, you won't be surprised by this. The album, 1981's Stop and Smell the Roses, is further evidence that in a way, the Beatles never really broke up, or at least almost certainly would have reunited at some point, were it not for Lennon's assassination. Each of the other three lads either contributed to, played on or produced at least one song for Ringo, and that was the case with many of their solo albums throughout the 70s, and 80s. Each was a lingering presence in the others' solo careers, sporadically, over time.

"Wrack my Brain" is great, if for no other reason than being unmistakably a George Harrison song. Not quite as spell-binding as "Something" or "Here Comes the Sun", it nevertheless sports that light breath of transcendentalism paired with equally gentle humor that so often found its way into Harrison's lyrics, wrapped in a winsome melody constructed on the bedrock of exquisitely anguished-sounding chord progressions, which were also hallmarks of the "quiet Beatle". Almost makes me wish George Harrison had recorded it, rather than Ringo. Although at the same time, Ringo's "aw shucks" persona lends something to the song, so I guess everything happens for a reason.

"With a will, there's a way, but there's no way I can see, coming up with something you'd enjoy as much as TV..."

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

#341) "One Night in Bangkok" by Murray Head - I can't say this song holds up for me, exactly, any more than the stage musical it's from holds up. Although, I can't say I know much about Chess, other than the fact that the guys from Abba, Benny Andersson and Bjorn Ulvaeus, were among the creative force behind it, along with Tim Rice, and "One Night in Bangkok" is the only song on the soundtrack that doesn't have that overly mushy, "theater" sound.

"One Night..." was released as a pop single, doubtless to drum up interest in the musical itself, and I must say, there was a time when it was all pretty electrifying to me, when its sound, its chorus, the lines, "I can feel the devil walking next to me", and "not much between despair and ecstasy", all struck an evocative chord. There was a time, just before I discovered Run DMC, and the Breakin' and Beat Street soundtracks, and took to "break dancing" (well, gesticulating spastically) across the grass in a buddy's front yard, when to my ears, "One Night in Bangkok" was "rapping" in its coolest form, and performing it for the playground set, getting through it without missing a word or beat, was a pretty big deal. This, for about 21.5 seconds sometime in late summer of '85.

Nowadays, for whatever reason - maturity, burgeoning immaturity as I age, who knows... - I just don't buy into whatever Chess or "One Night in Bangkok" presents.  It's not Benny, Bjorn, or Tim's fault really, I've simply lost my taste for theater in general. Whether Oklahoma, South Pacific, West Side Story, Jesus Christ Superstar, or Hamilton....ugh, it's just not my cup of tea anymore, and that's significant only in that it wasn't always the case. I grew up more or less a "drama kid", appreciating and taking part in local musical theater on a regular basis, actually used to jam out to the L'il Abner soundtrack in my bedroom when I was eleven (always thought it'd be fun to play the part of Marryin' Sam!), but time can be a mysteriously corrosive agent, and when it comes to musical theater, I just can't get there like I used to.

But "One Night in Bangkok" is still listenable, and unique in its way, it might be said, for being a (sort of) "white guy rap", if nothing else.  And I still think the lines "I can feel the devil walking next to me" and "not much between despair and ecstasy" are evocative, which perhaps means I haven't become completely jaded, I guess.

"Can't be too careful with your company..."


#342) "Bette Davis Eyes" by Kim Carnes - This is definitely from the "shit your parents listened to" vault, a song I never noticed or appreciated as a kid, but have come to love as an adult. The elements I might once have thought were cheesy, the heavily synthesized drum beat and electronic chords, are a big part of its charm now.  The lyrics are fairly poetic, and although nothing can really ever replace Eddie Murphy's performance of it on Saturday Night Live back in the 1980s (Buckwheat sings all your favorites!), there could not have been a better choice of vocals than Kim Carnes' raspy pipes, which blend with the music so seamlessly, her voice seems almost electronically generated itself. (But isn't, of course, as this was long before Auto-Tune.)

And no question, Bette Davis' eyes deserve their own song, so it's win-win-win, all around!

"Her hair is Harlow gold / Her lips sweet surprise..."

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

#337) "Key Largo" Bertie Higgins - Man, when I was a kid, about ten or eleven, and this song came on the radio, I had a hell of a raucous time singing out loud what I thought were the actual lyrics. Having no knowledge whatsoever of Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall or the movie being referenced, I thought the line was, "We had it all, just like boogie in the corn", and thought that was the funniest thing I'd ever heard.

For the most part, the song didn't do much for me, even though it could be said I was plugged into sappy ditties - the "shit your parents listened to" - more than other kids. All I ever felt moved to do was make fun of this one, and I totally did (while not knowing what the hell I was talking about). But "Key Largo" is one of those songs that gets better with age, the passage of time, and perhaps requires a next level of maturity to appreciate. If you park your snark for five minutes (and maybe don't watch the video), you'll likely come to realize that there is an oddly dim beauty to the musicality of this song. Although it still doesn't move me to want to fall in love or fuck, its soft edges are hard not to get caught on, and swept away by...just a little.

"Starring in our own late, late show / Sailing away to Key Largo..."

#338) "Sailing" by Christopher Cross - Now this is a song I could get on board with when I was ten, and it remains so to this day.  So subtly rendered, without ever becoming overwrought or too sappy, it's the music of a soft, bright day dream, any pleasant afternoon-turned-evening, of, indeed, the very azure sky and calm blue-green seas it speaks of. It's the progenitor of that subgenre known as yacht rock, but I think it works if you're just sailing through the rich blue waters of your mind, and I would say it qualifies for "they just don't right 'em like this anymore" designation. Surely, it would not wind up on pop radio these days, as it did, reaching No. 1 in August 1980.

"Oh, the canvas can do miracles, just you wait and see..."

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

#335) "Sad Eyes" by Robert John - For the longest time, I thought (assumed) this song was a Bee Gees song; it would seem to fit perfectly in their wheelhouse, right down to the high vocals. But it was released in 1979, around the height of the Bee Gees' fame, and by then the brothers Gibb had long forsaken the likes of "How Can You Mend a Broken Heart" and "I Started a Joke" for trendier, and radio friendlier, hits like "Tragedy" and "Stayin' Alive".

I also thought for a long time that Robert John was British, doubtless a Bee Gees-related assumption, but he's American, Brooklyn born, and also, with "Sad Eyes", as much a one-hit wonder as there has ever been.

"Sad Eyes" was his only song to hit #1, and this comes as no surprise to me because it's pretty lovely, as ballads go. It drapes over everything, in a good way. I like that it's not an anguished break-up song, at least not for the guy. He's been having an affair with someone, and now his girlfriend or wife is coming back and he's looking for as clean an "out" as is possible. I'm not saying he's not a cad, but I enjoy the emotional timbre of the song, its note of hope for the future, the suggestion that every exit is also an entrance to someplace else, and you can never really go wrong with that slow, horse-trot beat. I like the guitar solo as well; it's simple, but sometimes simple sings the best.

"I never used you, you knew I really cared..."

#336) "'65 Love Affair" by Paul Davis - I was 11 when this song was released. I remember vividly it spilling out of tiny radios and mini-boom boxes all over the neighborhood for a few months, along with Eddie Rabbit and Alabama and Juice Newton, and I remember feeling its melancholy, its longing for days past, even though I didn't have a lot of my own "days past" at the time. I felt it not because I was a super sensitive sage at 11 (I wasn't), but because the song so vividly captures what it's looking to capture in its lyrics and melody: being young and being in love for the first time, in a world that will one day be looked back on as much smaller than it felt at the time, in the days when "rock and roll was simple and free."

Moreover, "'65 Love Affair" always struck me as historically accurate. 1965, maybe '66, might very well have been the last time rock and roll could be considered simple and free, right before the Sixties, as we remember them, exploded.  To that end, no joke: I think, "Doo wop, diddy wop, diddy wop, doo", as it's presented in "'65 Love Affair", is one of the greatest lines in any pop song ever.

"Well I acted like a dumb-dumb / you were bad with your pom-poms..."

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

#331) "Have You Ever Seen the Rain?" by Creedence Clearwater Revival - From a musical standpoint, there's nothing not to like about CCR. At the height of the tumultuous 1960s, the Fogerty brothers, Tom and John, along with Stu Cook and Doug Clifford, came onto the scene with a homespun sound that was no less agitated, no less emotionally chaotic and intense, than anything from the time that might now be called acid rock. They weren't exactly the downhome bayou brothers their music suggested, they hailed from the San Francisco area, but they weren't "hippies" either, though they were aware of what was going on around them and certainly had something to say about it, which they did, quite powerfully, through their music.

Music's a funny, wonderful thing, isn't it?  Songs have a way of becoming personal property in the listener's mind, and playlists like this one, whether designed for a road trip or just sitting at home chilling, have a way of reading as nothing less than a soundtrack of the listener's life.

But tastes, and therefore influences, change over time. If I'd started a list like this when I was 22, I don't think it would have been nearly as diverse or interesting, as I would have been far more inclined to include only music I felt told my story, as I believed it to be.

That's still somewhat true now, of course, but far less so than once would have been the case.  As I've aged, I think I've broadened my musical scope. I appreciate songs simply for their musicality now, appreciate the artist's moment rendering that music in whatever way they have. In other words, it no longer has to be something I can relate to on a personal level in order to get my attention, and yet (and here's the "funny and wonderful" part), I still do feel it personally, just in a broader - and frankly, more satisfying - way.  I appreciate live music more than ever before as well, perhaps because I dabble a little myself, and while I can play, I never feel like I could get up in front of people and play with a bunch of other musicians, with precise timing, or engage in some epic guitar or keyboard solo without fucking up, having (or wanting) to start over. I know it's about practice, practice, practice, but it also involves a certain God-given gift bestowed upon the Billy Joels, Les Claypools, Princes and Walter Becketts of the world (among others), which I just don't have. Most people just don't have.

"Have You Ever Seen the Rain?" gets interpreted different ways by different people, probably because it was recorded at such a crazy time in history, and there's definitely a heaviness present to reflect that fact, a sense that it's saying something, has an important message. It's not entirely clear what that message is, you just know its heavy, and you feel compelled to find it.

John Fogerty has said the song isn't really about the Sixties, or Vietnam, or any one momentously bad thing that happened at the time, but actually about the band's unhappiness being superstars. At first glance, that might seem to cheapen it, but I don't think it does. It makes the song greater, turns it into a broad collector of all the sadness, frustration and heartache and melancholy Life can dish out, a universal anthem, with one size fitting all.

The straightforward notion that it's just about a sun shower is valid too, because I've truly always thought, musically, it sounds like rain falling on a sunny day.

Doesn't it...?! It sounds like a sun shower.  Which, at the end of the day, is all it needs to sound like.

"And forever on it goes, through the circle, fast and slow..."


#332) "Fortunate Son" by Creedance Clearwater Revival - Here, CCR doesn't fuck around with metaphor, no need to interpret what this song is about. Although, in keeping with the band's offbeat vibe, it's a slightly different take on the antiwar message: not about the horror or futility of war, as such, but the class warfare that went on in the time of something so crazy as a national military draft. 'Twas ever thus: the poor, furthest away from ever being able to enjoy the American dream as it was presented, were the ones expected to fight for it....and then totally shit on by the American public if they were lucky enough to come marching home.  Liberal, conservative...there is a lot of blame to go around for what happened back then.

But none of it ever sullied (or sullies) the unique splendor of John Fogerty's voice.


"Some folks are born silver spoon in hand / Lord, don't they help themselves..."

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

#327) "Foolin'" by Def Leppard - Simply put, one of the best hair metal songs ever, although Def Leppard frontman Joe Elliot would likely not appreciate any further association with hair metal than has already taken place over the years. And I guess it really isn't a fair categorization, if calling anything they did "hair metal" places it anywhere within the vicinity of White Lion, or Winger. And "Foolin'" pre-dates the height of "hair metal" by a couple of years, was howling away when "the kids" were still digging Michael Jackson, the Police and Culture Club...and USA for Africa. ;-)

But whether you call it hair metal or whatever, "Foolin'" is, decades later, still kind of awesome (and this might be a reason not to call it hair metal): aggressive and anxious in equal measure, the authentically haunting melody pairs seamlessly with growling guitars, pounding drums and Elliot's formidably squealing vocals.

Let's just agree to call it a great song...from the hair metal era.

"Is anybody out there, anybody there / Does anybody wonder, anybody care..."

#328) "No Excuses" by Alice in Chains - Alice in Chains is another band that doesn't deserve to be chained (sorry...) to its association with a specific era of music, in their case "grunge".  That being said, Alice in Chains was the best of the grunge bands in my opinion, tasking one of the greatest rock voices of all time in Layne Staley with the job of being the perfect vehicle with which to carry Jerry Cantrell's sinister harmonies.

"No Excuses", from the 1994 EP Jar of Flies, is one of those rare things I was into as it was happening.  Usually, I display a sort of automatic skepticism when it comes to anything current, anything too cool, too of the moment, and then reliably come around years after the fact, flashing a "what was I (not) thinking...??" shrug and going on and on about everything I missed. Many of the songs on this very list, which I've been churning out for almost six years now, are songs I came late to.

But the grinding sense of alienation, the false hopes and empty promises, the fatalistic sense of departure, perhaps to something you can't come back from, so effortlessly forged in "No Excuses" by Staley's compelling vocals, was something I was absorbing fully like ointment when I was 21 and this music - and music like it - was slow-crawling up the charts.

"You my friend, I will defend, and if we change well I'll love you anyway..."

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

#325) "Goodbye Stranger" by Supertramp - I was introduced to this song on the television show WKRP in Cincinnati when I was a kid (it started playing during a dramatic scene...or at least as dramatic as can be achieved on a sit-com), and like Bob Seger's "Roll Me Away" at the end of the movie Mask, it sparked a powerful stirring - an electrical charge of restlessness that bordered on titillation. In my mind, the elegantly simple electric piano riff that starts the song and pulses its way reliably throughout has forever remained on that short list of musical sounds sure to get the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention. But there is something else about this song that I love, and it has nothing to do with musicality. Musical styles and stylizations come and go, and at the end of the day, what's good and what's bad, what's moving and what's not, are never more than subjective at best.

It's the sentiment of the song: the notion of moving on or hoping to move on to something new, something better, or maybe feeling the need to keep on moving on in order to keep yourself right, making travel plans for a completely uninspiring and uncertain future as a means of coping.

Concepts like that don't seem to be much of a thing in popular music anymore, certainly not the way they were for the likes of Bob Seger, Jackson Browne and Lynard Skynard back in the day. Nobody rambles and roams anymore, or even thinks they might want to, or need to. Maybe they never did; maybe it was always a bit of a smoke and mirrors illusion. But a lot of the music from the late 70s, when "Goodbye Stranger" was released, seemed to suggest the notion that personal peace-of-mind was directly linked to physical freedom, the ability to come and go at will, with no chains, no one to answer to, nothing holding you back, holding you down.

No longer. Music is all about staying put these days - or at least being perfectly content with how things are, how you are - and that's not really surprising, I guess, with the Internet being a virtual means of escape. Nobody's stuck staring at the same four walls, even if they're surrounded by the same four walls. They can essentially travel the world without ever leaving the house, see things, talk to people, choose to talk to no one if they so desire. This leaves - that I've noticed - young people, who don't know a world any different, with little or no inclination to go anywhere, ever. They're living with their parents well into their twenties, or thirties, barely bothering to get driver's licenses unless it becomes absolutely necessary.  This is weird to me.

Yes, the whole "freedom" think is dangerously idealistic, and a bit of a tread-worn trope, and yes, it can certainly be argued that it was a uniquely Baby Boomer thing to put such a premium on unmitigated freedom. Millennials and Gen Y might be self-absorbed, but it's no secret the "Me" generation was selfish.  The frosty farewell evident in "Goodbye Stranger"...literally the lyrics, "goodbye stranger" and "I have to have things my own way to keep me in my youth"... were doubtless spoken to wives, husbands and children all too often back in the aftermath of 1960s, when it might be argued that too many doors were left wide open.

But that it doesn't turn up in songs at all these days is something lost, as far as I'm concerned. Once in a great while, "freedom" - in terms of hitting the road not merely to get from point A to point B, but to disappear into the sunshine - pops up in the odd country song, but not often. Usually in country music these days, you get a lot of thick, pasty patriotism and/or a completely cartoonish portrayal of redneckism that reveals no inclination to leave whatsoever, would even appear to suggest rambling and roaming is the coward's way out.  This is my land, the modern country artist is far more inclined to croon smugly, my country, my family, my roots are here, I'm not going anywhere! I got everything I need right here, and every right to be here! I'm staying put. I'm blessed. So fuck you.

In her lovely 1971 ballad "So Far Away", Carole King sang (negatively): "...one more song about moving along the highway / can't say much of anything that's new..."

I feel that way now, but for the opposite reason.  Nobody seems to want to hit the highway anymore, they don't want a sprawling leap into an unknown creating soul-feeding distance and perspective. They really do just want to sit at home and play on their computer in whatever capacity they prefer, let the world come to them in RGB. And make no mistake, I fall victim to that impulse (or lack of impulse) all the time, and I am by no means a Millennial.

But am I right in the assertion that it's more than a little too bad?

"It was early morning yesterday, I was up before the dawn..."


#326) "Awoo" by Sofi Tukker - Since their debut in 2016, Sofi Tukker, a New York based duo consisting of Sophie Hawley-Weld, Tucker Halpern and an extensive list of collaborative and/or contributing guests, have proven themselves to be a force to be reckoned with, existing and thriving on the funky and just a little kooky fringe of pop music, where they can blend equal portions of ultra cool and ultra ridiculous, do both very well, and appeal to everyone. I hear a little Prince in their sound, a little Lady Gaga, a lot of the B-52s, even a little Steely Dan, yet they've created their own vibe that is unflinchingly unique to their time, their generation.

Pop music, rock and roll, whatever you want to call it, is first and foremost all about being interesting.  Being boring - basic  - is the only real offense, and Sofi Tukker are anything but that. "Awoo" is sexy and playful, never taking itself too seriously, yet coming across entirely legit.

"I was there and then I quit..."

SUMMER PROJECT: Songs That Will Definitely NOT Be Coming Along on 1/48/50

Music, like all things creative, is subjective. I know the list of "road songs" I've been cobbling together on this page for quite a while is not the last word. I'm fully aware everyone has a vastly different list of songs to place on something so heady as a road trip mix.  I like to think I have fairly eclectic taste, fed by an open mind. If something moves me, it moves me. I don't get bogged down by age, image, genre or coolness factor and looking back, I'm proud of the fact that my list has been all over the road, so to speak.

But there are some songs I simply cannot get on board with, for any number of reasons. Sometimes they try too hard. Sometimes they don't try hard enough.  Sometimes it's a song from a band or an artist I otherwise like, just an odd left turn into a musically bad neighborhood that rubs me the wrong way.   Sometimes there's no reason for a certain song to be rubbing me the wrong way, it just does. I can't explain it. Sometimes there's not really anything wrong with a song, as such, it just reminds me of a time in my life I don't wish to remember (don't wish to bring along on a 14,000 mile road trip).  

And yes, sometimes it is true that a certain song is just horrible, so lame or poorly or lazily rendered, so insulting to its genre, the artist performing it, and the LISTENER, it makes my skin crawl, even pisses me off a little.

Here are a few of the musical lemons that will not be coming along for the ride on 1/48/50.  I won't comment beyond the listing.  Readers can take them for what they will, or not take them at all. They may decide I don't know what I'm talking about (if they haven't already), or they may cry out 'Hallelujah!'  Either way is fine with me.  ;-)

❌  "Ice Ice Baby" by Vanilla Ice

❌  "Thong Song" by Cisqo

❌  "Rico Suave" by Gerardo

SUMMER PROJECT: Songs That Will Definitely NOT Be Coming Along on 1/48/50

Music, like all things creative, is subjective. I know the list of "road songs" I've been cobbling together on this page for quite a while is not the last word. I'm fully aware everyone has a vastly different list of songs to place on something so heady as a road trip mix.  I like to think I have fairly eclectic taste, fed by an open mind. If something moves me, it moves me. I don't get bogged down by age, image, genre or coolness factor and looking back, I'm proud of the fact that my list has been all over the road, so to speak.

But there are some songs I simply cannot get on board with, for any number of reasons. Sometimes they try too hard. Sometimes they don't try hard enough.  Sometimes it's a song from a band or an artist I otherwise like, just an odd left turn into a musically bad neighborhood that rubs me the wrong way.   Sometimes there's no reason for a certain song to be rubbing me the wrong way, it just does. I can't explain it. Sometimes there's not really anything wrong with a song, as such, it just reminds me of a time in my life I don't wish to remember (don't wish to bring along on a 14,000 mile road trip).  

And yes, sometimes it is true that a certain song is just horrible, so lame or poorly or lazily rendered, so insulting to its genre, the artist performing it, and the LISTENER, it makes my skin crawl, even pisses me off a little.

Here are a few of the musical lemons that will not be coming along for the ride on 1/48/50.  I won't comment beyond the listing.  Readers can take them for what they will, or not take them at all. They may decide I don't know what I'm talking about (if they haven't already), or they may cry out 'Hallelujah!'  Either way is fine with me.  ;-)

❌  "Good Girls Go Bad" by Cobra Starship ft. Leighton Meester

❌  "Boom Boom Pow" by Black Eyed Peas

❌  "Single Ladies (Put a Ring On It)" by Beyonce