Lb4Lb#11 - The Trouble With Hippies

I was not a "child of the '60's" by any stretch of the imagination.

My exposure to the 1960s was solely through the filter of my very straight-laced parents and their record collection: Dean Martin, The Monkees, Glen Campbell, Cher, Peter, Paul and Mary, and... Leonard Nimoy. Yes. THAT Leonard Nimoy. The Way I Feel (you should find the LP some time and check it out). We had a couple of Beatles records, but as I later discovered, they fell out of favor after John Lennon's remark about being "bigger than Jesus" - and that copy of Rubber Soul was as close as I got to "counter-culture" until high school.
Thinking positivity
If you wanna be with me
I'll take you to the promised land
Come on baby take my hand
Stop Draggin AroundOf course, I did grow up in the 1980s, and nostalgia for "flower power" was all the rage. I missed a lot of that because our family lived out in the sticks, and we didn't have a VCR until 1989 - so while my friends were into the Vietnam-era war pics and Cheech & Chong, I was mostly sitting home, not a part of the whole scene.

Not that I wanted any part of it - that silly hippy-dippy drug culture stuff was for sinners. I was deep into my church and considered myself above all of that nonsense. I saw myself as above it all, and I resisted "temptation" like a good boy.
I've been lost in the name of love
And we kill our brothers daily in the name of god
We'd better chill before we take on some tribulation
And if we realized
Then we'd make a little love
now sing
What The Fuck Are We SayingPuberty changes things. That is an intentional understatement.

It was easy to dismiss the New Age philosophy and all of the political talk of the 1960s with the benefit of hindsight (and lots of coaching from Grandpa and my church family), but hormones bring home a truth that is hard to ignore. Feeling my body take over my mind in so many ways made me understand that "control" is not simply a matter of following rules. I began to recognize that the things people feel are real to them - and unless you've felt what they feel, you can't judge them.
My mama said
That it's good to be fruitful
But my mama said
Don't take more than a mouthful
And my mama said
That it's good to be natural
And my mama said
That it's good to be factual
Always On The RunAfter I started questioning my principles, I was freed to explore things that I had always disdained. Music was the most exciting area to explore, because it felt both defiant and safe; I could try out crazy ideas without necessarily DOING crazy things. I could listen to stories and feelings and see places and pieces of history that had passed me by while I was trying to fit the world inside my Bible.

Some things are easier to get into than others, though, and a lot of the really revolutionary, underground, and radical stuff from the Summer of Love and the early 1970s still shocked my sensibilities. I couldn't get into Lennon's politically charged anthems, I couldn't grasp Jimi's wild guitar work, and I really had no idea what to make of Zeppelin. There were singles that I liked, but there was so much out there - and much of it was so FAR out there - that I couldn't figure out where to start.

And there was another wrinkle to this musical blockage.

A white Southern Baptist kid never feels comfortable with certain things. What it is they are uncomfortable with will vary, but for me, it is Soul music. It's not that I don't like it, but rather that I become self-conciously hyper-aware while I am listening to it that I am an awkward white kid, and that something deeply sexual is happening that I should probably not be exposed to. Much of the Sixties vibe revolves around an exploration of Soul. Sometimes it's more Blues, sometimes it's covered up by the bombast of Rock; but underneath it all is the sexually charged subtext of black people and their freedom from the Puritanical roots that my ancestors instilled in their descendants.
So many tears I've cried
So much pain inside
Baby it ain't over 'til it's over
So many years we've tried
And kept our love alive
'Cause Baby it ain't over 'til it's over
It Ain't Over Til It's OverAll of which brings me to my point: why Mama Said is such an important album to me. With all of these many paragraphs of prologue, you might be expecting something deep, but like the counter-culture, and hippies, and free love and drugs, there's really not much beneath the surface.

There is an important thing inside all of us that sets limits. For people like me, those limits can sometimes be deeply ingrained, almost like a moat, and it takes something special to bridge the gap to the other side. Lenny's sophomore album made these things safe for me.

That was all I needed.
You say you can't trust me
Have you tried?
You say you don't love me
That's a lie
There are so many so many rainbows
That we were to climb
But baby baby why can't we survive?
We've got to get our heads untangled
And free our state of mind
The Difference Is WhyLenny's music is not deep - the lyrics border on vapid, and the rhymes are sometimes forced to the point of ridiculousness. The music has been widely criticized as being derivative of Hendrix and Zeppelin, and there's no doubt that this is true.

But.

For a white suburban Southern Baptist kid intimidated by his sexuality and the wide world he was facing, Mama Said gave me a place to relate and unwind. It didn't matter that this guy was singing - in falsetto! - about sex, because it was relatively harmless. (At least compared to Prince.) And it didn't matter that the guitars were only a little loud (courtesy of Slash), because these songs rocked! It felt to me like what it was for Lenny: a celebration of a lot of really good things.

The trouble with hippies is that they tend to be shallow and frivolous. But somehow, the magic of this album was that it didn't have to be deep or important. It wanders through Fields of Joy, and if you learn to relax, you will find that the limits you set for yourself don't have to be shattered to be softened. You don't have to destroy yourself to grow. You can just take it as it comes.

And there's really nothing wrong with that at all.

Lb4Lb#10: Black & White City Blues

I have no doubt that the city of New York has changed considerably in the nearly 25 years since Lou Reed recorded his album of songs about it - but I would be willing to bet that these songs still describe it pretty well. It's hard to know how well without going, but I do live in Baltimore, and it isn't hard to imagine some of these dark snapshots being taken on the streets here.

Because even though they grow up, die off, move away, or find Jesus in the course of a quarter century, people don't really change.

The man if he marries will batter his child
and have endless excuses
The woman sadly will do much the same
thinking that it's right and it's proper
Better than their mommy or their daddy did
Better than the childhood they suffered
The truth is they're happier when they're in pain
In fact, that's why they got married.
- Endless CycleAt the top of the liner notes, it says "This album was recorded and mixed at Media Sound, Studio B, N.Y.C., in essentially the order you have here. It's meant to be listened to in on 58 minute (14 songs!) sitting as though it were a book or a movie." That's not a bad description at all.

The scenes alternate between angry rockers and bitter down-tempo scenes of life in the Big City. He kicks off with his starker, more realistic take on West Side Story, and then goes to a Halloween Parade - first retelling the Shakespeare story with hoods and thugs, then listing the colorful & wild characters he has watched drop dead of AIDS. As he alternates through each scene, Lou describes the familiar, banal, and frustrating humanity crammed together into any large urban environment - complete with the glimmers of hope.

But they're only glimmers.
Manhattan's sinking like a rock, into the filthy Hudson what a shock
They wrote a book about it, they said it was like ancient Rome
The perfume burned his eyes, holding tightly to her thighs
And something flickered for a minute and then it vanished and was gone.
-Romeo Had JuliettePeople don't change. The names do, the faces do, and sometimes their stories play out in a place that has been cleaned up, rebuilt, or improved. We tell ourselves that things can get better - and we try to make it better - but people don't change. They act selfishly, and almost universally put their short term pleasure ahead of any long term benefits they might get out of life. They sacrifice their health in favor of distraction, and they complain about the surroundings they create.
There's no such thing as human rights
When you walk the N.Y. streets
A cop was shot in the head by a 10 year old kid named Buddah in
Central Park last week
The fathers and daughters are lined up by
The coffins by the Statue of Bigotry
You better hold on something's happening here.
-Hold OnThat's not good news, in itself. But the idea is that as shocking and horrible, and full of irony as that song is, it still feels familiar and immediate. Things don't change much in 25 years because there really is only so far down you can go. I always hear people talking about how we going to hell in a handbasket as if these kinds of things are new. They aren't. They've always happened.
You can't depend on no miracle
You can't depend on the air
You can't depend on a wise man
You can't find them because they're not there
You can depend on cruelty
Crudity of thought and sound
You can depend on the worst always happening
You need a Busload of Faith to get by
-Busload of FaithBad things will always happen, because People don't change. But we keep trusting that someone will save us. We keep thinking it could get better if the right leader or the right team would come along and show all those bad guys a thing or two.

And while you may not get the references made in some of these songs to events and people from 1989 - Oliver North, Kurt Waldheim, Jesse Jackson and even Rudy Giuliani- Lou's name-checking still holds its weight as he describes the world they helped shape.

It's a world you live in.

Well Americans don't care for much of anything
Land and water the least
And animal life is low on the totem pole
With human life not worth more than infected yeast
Americans don't care too much for beauty
They'll shit in a river, dump battery acid in a stream
They'll watch dead rats wash up on the beach
And complain if they can't swim
-Last Great American WhaleThis is an ugly album, and an angry one - it's a photograph of each of us, living in a rundown world we inherited from people who wanted to think they were giving us something better. It's disappointment and disgust, a stark look at ourselves, whether we live in cities or not. But in the middle of it all there is a persistent, defiant hope. He never quite comes out and says it, but you can tell Lou thinks that he is better than this rat-infested garbage pit he sees all around him.

Maybe it wouldn't be so disappointing if we all weren't capable of better. Romeo Rodriquez and Juliette Bell didn't have to make the choices they made, after all, and neither do you.

It might be fun to have a kid I could pass something on to
Something better than rage, pain, anger and hurt
I hope it's true what my wife said to me
She says Lou, it's the Beginning of a Great Adventure
-Beginning of a Great AdventureThe truth is that's how we make it better. People don't change, so it's up to us to make them better from the Beginning.

Maybe following that glimmer will lead us out of the trash.

Lb4Lb#9: Yours, Mine, and the Truth

There's three sides to every story:
Yours
Mine
the Truth.
- Cupid's DeadSometimes we're just too clever for our own good.

Extreme is a band that has suffered from straddling a line between down-to-earth and over-the-top. They clearly had the chops and the musicianship needed to rule the earth, but they wanted something else. And what they wanted was something that you can't come right out and ask for: your fans have to figure it out on their own.

I'm a hapless romantic
St-t-tuttering p-poet
Just call me a Tragic Comic
'Cause I'm in love with you
- Tragic ComicI'm one of the many fans and critics who consider their best effort to have been the album entitled (somewhat ambiguously) III Sides To Every Story. It was their third, following up their breakout hits More Than Words and Hole Hearted. If the world was a fair place, then III Sides would have been the homerun the band needed to hit. It showcases one of the world's best guitarists without being a "guitar" album, and it blends thoughtfulness, spirituality, and humor in a wickedly funky metal confection.

The band tried to pull off something really difficult with their concept. After all these years, even a fan like me isn't entirely sure what the message was, or what it all really means. I know that there are parts that I really get, and others I don't. I'm never entirely sure I'm comfortable with what it says.

Mr. Goody Two
Do you really thing the world
Can be Black, White, and Jew?

...Mr. Music Man
Don't turn your back on me?
Cause I'm the one with the gun
- Peacemaker DieAt first glance, this bold and disturbing stance seems obvious. Clearly, since this is a concept album about politics and belief, and since the first "side" of the three - Yours - was not meant to reflect the band's own opinions and beliefs, you can't take this bravado and swagger at face value. For these songs, they ought to be painting a picture of the Other Guy - the one we're supposed to be against.

This world ain't big enough for two
And I've got my sights on you
- WarheadsOh, yeah - that guy is an aggressive jerk. That's YOUR side, alright. Not mine. I know people like him, so "Your" side is about him, right?

That works to a point. But then you see something of yourself in that Other guy:

"Make love/not war" sounds so absurd to me
We can't afford to take these words lightly
or else our world will truly Rest in Peace
- Rest In PeaceWait a minute - I hold to that sentiment myself. Even though the threat of Soviet-inflicted Armaggedon is even less likely now that it was in 1992, I know that we can't afford to neglect our own defense. Maybe these guys consider me to be that Other guy? And yet, I'm also far from the Warhead described in the opening track.

This second-guessing goes on throughout the whole album; what are these songs trying to tell me about the band? Or about myself?

Picture a world without any color
You couldn't tell one face from another
I can't understand why we fight with our brother
- Color Me BlindJust when you think you've got it figured out - which side is which - they throw in something that doesn't fit. Are they hippies? No, because why would hippies put Color Me Blind on "Your" side? Maybe they're trying to show that both "sides" have some balance? Maybe they're trying to show that there's common ground between the "sides"?

But then there are the chilling moments, where you see something horrific and alien in the Other side. I still get goosebumps from the sick feeling of being inside the mind of a violent extremist as the band plays a sample of Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech over the repeated leit-motif of "Peacemaker Die." I know exactly where the gunshot is, and I still jump when I hear it. If I identified with "Your" side up to this point, I would be suddenly forced to realize something horrible about the person that "Your" side describes.

All the world's
a masquerade
made up of fools
and philosophers
Were it to rain
on our charade,
all washes away,
except for our true colors
- Stop The WorldHow many listeners were put off by this inherent confusion, I wonder? And how many missed the larger point because they either took the lyric at face value as something the band really believes, or pushed away from what they took to be criticism of their own beliefs? Judging by the sales figures, a lot of people didn't get it.

Which is sad, because there is a lot of goodness here. I suspect the disappointment from the way this album was received led to the frustrating compromises the band made on their next release; a so-called "grunge" album that their more loyal fans saw as a "sell out" move. I'm just glad they had the courage to take this risk, and give us this album first. It must have been a real conflict to decide to do so.

And conflict is really what this whole thing is about. While the conflict on Your side is harsher and more threatening, Mine is more open and accessible. This side is the questioning, sentimental side.

If I had one wish
It wouldn't be hard to choose
Seven Sundays in a row
'cause that's the day that I spend with you
- Seven SundaysI think we can all recognize the hopefulness and futility that comes from trying to sort out our place in a world that seems downright crazy. We all think we're just good, average folks trying to make our way through; we all want to rely on someone stronger and smarter than us to pull us through; and we all want to escape from the glad-handing charlatans trying to take advantage of us.

But even here on what should be common ground we have a problem to sort out, because of all of this religious imagery and language. Seven Sundays could be a sweet song for your steady girl - or it could be about a relationship with God. And that duality gets more overt when you compare it to the aggressive R. Lee Ermey father that opened the album. Just what exactly are they trying to say about God?

Oh Daddy please
Take me with you, where you going
Oh Daddy please
Come find the time, come watch us growing
- Our FatherI used to only listen to the halfway point of this album - something which has changed, or I wouldn't rightly be able to call this a "pound for pound" album. I used to get mad or bored with the more religious and heavily orchestrated songs from Our Father on - but now I don't.

I would get mad because it sounded (in my younger days) as if the band were urging me toward some kind of religious answer. I would get bored (later on), just dismissing this section as an attempt to deal with Daddy issues. Now I see that, like the other sections, we have the same mix of conflicted points of view that we saw in the first half.

So I start off every day
Down on my knees I will pray
(for a change in any way)

But as the day goes by
I live through another lie
if it's any wonder why!

Am I ever gonna change?
If I say one thing then I do the other
It's the same old song that goes on forever
- Am I Ever Gonna Change?After years of listening, pondering, wondering, supposing, and rethinking, I still don't really have any answers. But I do think these guys were onto something 20 years ago. I think there is an important lesson here and that it still applies. I don't pray, but I recognize that prayer is an externalized form of meditation. We humans keep looking for answers outside of ourselves; we keep hoping to change others - whether their minds or just their behavior - as if that alone would make everything better.

But the world keeps spinning, and I keep getting sucked into the same arguments with the same kinds of people. Anger begets anger, frustration breeds contempt, and no one ever feels like their "side" is fairly represented.

Maybe the real solution to the puzzle is to let someone else have the last word.

Am I ever gonna change?
I'm the only one to blame
When I think I'm right, I wind up wrong
It's a futile fight that's gone on too long.

Lb4Lb#8: The Unauthorized Biography of Tadmaster

Well, I thought about the Army,
Dad said, "Son, you're fucking high..."
- ArmyMore than 10 years ago, I was a U.S. servicemember stationed in England. I stood a rotation of 12-hour shifts, and had a house full of small children and a pregnant wife. Our unit was remotely deployed, so we frequently had to drive 2 hours to get to our home base - where we had our medical appointments, Air Force admin stuff, shopping for U.S. foods (that we could afford), and what not. Life consisted of long, boring stretches interspersed with ennui and tension, depending on the whims of our leaders.

But we had friends, and we tried to keep each others' spirits up. One of them gave me a pirated cassette tape of a new album he had been digging. He knew I liked Ben Folds Five, and I was happy to give this new album a listen, even with the long, odd title: The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner.

I should warn you,
I go to sleep.
- NarcolepsyThat first line in that first song spoke volumes. God, I knew exactly what this guy was singing about - feeling disengaged from everyone and dropping out, while at the same time feeling turmoil and passion within that you couldn't get out - because it made you shut down.

I remember trips down to base where I put this increasingly battered cassette into the player, and sang at the top of my lungs, tears spurting out of my eyes, fist pounding the left hand piano part on the dashboard. "I know it seems that I don't care/But something in me does, I swear!" That catharsis kept me awake - and probably alive, since Narcoleptic adventures on the roads of England are not conducive to survival.

No, I don't believe in God,
So I can't be saved.
- MessEach track revealed a different piece of my own back story. I was still new to being a father and husband, and being a selfish college prick was still fresh in my mind. The wreckage of relationships, the bemusement of dealing with drama that others felt and I didn't, or the simple honest truths about myself that I was learning to come to terms with - like my skeptical non-theism - had now found a soundtrack.

Everyone knows that music can do this; it's not unusual to find songs that capture some vital thing about you and help you remember it or relive it. But it's rare that you find a whole album that does it. This is music that helps you understand and embrace the things about yourself that you were avoiding. The things that you would be embarrassed to admit were causing you pain, because that sounds like something one of those self-absorbed hipsters would say.

And no one wants to be seen as a self-absorbed hipster, right?

If you're afraid they might discover
Your redneck past
There are a hundred ways to cover your redneck past
They'll never send you home
- Your Redneck PastEveryone has something they think they need to hide. Isn't it wonderful to find that the best way to keep it all hidden is to put it out there where everyone can see it?

These songs were never about me, of course. They aren't necessarily about Ben Folds, either, but they are revealing. The appeal for me has always been the way he is so open, honest and deep in his writing. But at the same time, these songs were funny and self-deprecating. You don't write about what a fool you think you are unless you've accepted that about yourself, and learned to enjoy it.

And that's where this album took me. Through the agony and the irony, it gave me something to relate to, and then held up a mirror so I could laugh at the Mess I was in, and appreciate the good things I had.

And how we just made fun
Of those who had the guts to try and fail
- RegretsAt the end of the day, I realized I was trying. I wasn't doing a great job of avoiding failure, but I was trying. You can always do better - that's the point. You will always have failures, big and small.

And for me, having a biography in song helps get through all of that. That's why I've bought this album several times - making up for that pirated copy that sits in a box in my basement, now.

Sweet dreams, Reinhold Messner, whoever you are!

Just the three of us took flight that night
Uncle Richard, me and James Earl Jones

And the pilot he gave me a blanket
And the tall dark man sang to me in deep
Rich tones...

Goodnight, goodnight sweet baby
The world has more for you
Than it seems
Goodnight, goodnight
Let the moonlight take the lid off your dreams
-Lullaby

Lb4Lb#7: Wildflowers Are Petty Things

You probably don't think much about wildflowers. They're really just weeds, after all, and unless they're blooming, they don't have much to offer. But when they bloom...

In 1994, I already knew who Tom Petty was. The Traveling Wilburys and Full Moon Feverhad cemented him in a favored place near my tape deck, and even his Greatest Hitsalbum had impressed me. But I figured the Greatest Hits was an admission that he was done; Mr. Petty had decided to sit back on his laurels and take a well deserved basking.

Fast forward 15 years. I'm in the car with the iPod shuffling through my own greatest hits. I'm almost at the saturation point with most of the 600 or so songs on there. I've heard my recent favorites a million times, and the stuff I haven't heard before isn't making an impression as it floats by. I'm thinking, "It's time to wipe this thing and throw on something different."

Then I hear a simple strumming pattern. It's like the first drops of rain on a dusty windshield, when you're driving over to see your girlfriend at the end of a long week. It's like the first slug of beer after spending the day spreading gravel in Arizona. It's like seeing wildflowers blooming next to a field of scorched, brown grass.

You belong among the wildflowers
You belong in a boat out at sea
Sail away, kill off the hours
You belong somewhere you feel free
- WildflowersPetty has never been the strongest vocalist, or the deepest song-writer. He's not the "rockin-est" rocker, nor is he a very flashy guitarist. He's just that guy you know who breaks out the guitar at parties, and makes everyone feel good. He's that guy that girls don't think about dating because he's "just a good friend", but when they actually give him a chance, he turns out to be genuine and caring.

Wildflowers is built on that vibe. The title track is all about letting someone go where they want, while still hoping that means they'll want to go where you are. There's no pressure, but he lets you know what he wants out of the relationship. He wants to keep it simple, real, and easy.

Doing that, there's always the chance that she'll take you up on the offer and leave, but... why borrow trouble? Why worry that much? You only hurt yourself, after all.

I know your weakness, you've seen my dark side
The end of the rainbow is always a long ride
But don't be afraid anymore
It's only a broken heart
- Only a Broken HeartYeah, he knows the risks. And he's not immune to that urge to control, either. This could have been an album full of passive-aggressive manipulation. Tom certainly knows the temptation.

It's good to be king and have your own world
It helps to make friends, its good to meet girls
A sweet little queen, who can't run away
It's good to be king, whatever it pays
- It's Good to Be KingSo we'll sit back, break out the guitar, and sing together. We'll hang out, and make ourselves easy to be around. Sometimes, you can't be king enough to shape those things that are larger than you, so you have to give in. Be easy. And do what you have to do.

And hey, now baby, what can I do?
What am I goin' to do but trust you?
The rest of my nights, the rest of my days
What can I do but love you?
- House in the WoodsIn 1994, the music scene turned on its head. All of the over-the-top extremes of the 80's metal bands and the effete and introspective self-loathing of the bubbling "alternative" scene collided, and the resulting cloud of ash that we called grunge erupted. It was cathartic, it was redemptive, it was purgative... but it was harsh and unflinching. The music, like the lyrics, explored the dark corners we had all been ignoring, and it changed the way we wrote and heard music.

Everything was about how angry and hurt everyone was. Grunge gave depth to punk, and balls to alternative; it pissed on shallowness of metal, and gave advanced music theory lessons to folk. It was a force of its own, all about denying anyone the opportunity to get close to you, because you knew they just wanted to rip you off.

It affected everything; lyrics, song-writing, form, production, sales, advertising. The flames swept through the music business, and the ashes settled on every genre. No one could sell a record without something "grunge" related - a flannel shirt, a curled fist, an angry riff.

In the midst of all of that, one quiet album pushed something beautiful up through the ashes, and those of us who noticed felt a little lighter for the experience.

Its time to move on, time to get going
What lies ahead I have no way of knowing
But under my feet, baby, grass is growing
Its time to move on, it s time to get going
- Time To Move OnYou don't have to go home, but you can't stay here. Petty knows his limits, and he knows not to expect too much. This makes his album a masterpiece of understatement, as well as an achievement. Not many people can pull off both.

Not many people can craft songs that still bring a smile to your face and joy to your heart when you recognize that simple strumming pattern. Especially not after hearing them for 15 years.

Lb4Lb#6: Music for Recuperation

I've written before about the way my body reacts to over the counter cold remedies. People have told me, "People pay good money on the street to feel that way," but I'd rather keep my money and NOT have to deal with the "side effects". As amusing as it might be to have my bedroom furniture talk to me, or to sit and watch the ceiling fan turn rainbow colors while lofting little fairies into the air around me... I'd just as soon stay in control of my own imagination.

Cheer up, honey I hope you can
There is something wrong with me
Radio CureI've been told that certain albums are improved by having your mind artificially expanded.Radioheads keep telling me I'd "get" some of their more obscure stuff if I'd just take a little something to help out, but I like The Wall just fine when I'm cold sober, thank you very much. I think music should stand up on its own, in general.

I have to admit, though, that being wired on cold meds has given certain albums more impact that they would have otherwise had on my cynical brain. Sometimes I don't let them work on the dark, secret parts of my psyche that they are intended for.

So while I won't go seeking them out, my few brushes with the High Life - at perfectly legal and unmodified dosages of Dextromethorphan and Phenylephrine - have given me some appreciation for "pharmacologically enhanced listening experiences"... a "radio cure", if you will.
I wonder why we listen to poets
When nobody gives a fuck
Ashes of American FlagsExperiencing physical weaknesses, along with the usual emotional or spiritual crises, leaves one with time to think about the less obvious ailments. If art has to have a purpose, isn't that a good one?

I was down hard when Wilcocrossed my transom; life was demanding a lot of us, and on top of the long hours of work and commute, I got hit with a pretty serious sinus infection. So, out came the drugs.
I am an American aquarium drinker
I assassin down the avenue
I'm hiding out in the big city blinking
What was I thinking when I let go of you
I Am Trying to Break Your HeartIs there a better way to start an album when you have a fever of 102 degrees Fahrenheit, and are whacked out on decongestant? I swear I could taste the aquarium water, and the fever was causing flashes of light behind my lids anyway.

Yankee Hotel Foxtrot has an interesting story behind it, anyway, which you can track down elsewhere easily enough. For me, the first impression was of a man trying to battle down the dazed delirium of his life and seize the flashes of beauty and joy that he hoped were real before they evaporated into the dream. The teetering balance of breathless harmonies and pleasant pop with the odd and disturbing sound scape creates an effective picture of someone exasperated with his situation, but determined to fix it.

I could certainly relate to that.
Every place around the world it seemed the same
Can't hear the rhythm for the drums
Everybody wants to look the other way
When something wicked this way comes
Jeremiah BluesSometimes, even if you feel it coming and take precautions, sickness can carry you out to sea. Waves of nausea crash over, capsize you and leave you wishing for that blinking city. That's where I was when I ran across The Soul Cages near the end of my college career.

Introspective reflections on his father, and cerebral ocean metaphors were not what the critics wanted from Sting's second solo outing. A lot of Police fans considered this a sign that Sting had "lost it", or had gone soft.

It gave me something to float on while I was drowning, though, and helped me smooth the emotional seas I was navigating. (It didn't hurt that I was recovering from some kind of allergy attack with the help of some anti-histamines, of course.)
Men go crazy in congregations
But they only get better
One by one
All This TimeNothing is a panacea. There is no "one-stop shop", no "one size fits all". Every drug affects everyone differently. These are just two examples of good medicine, taken as needed.

Next time you're down, try these out, and call me in the morning.

Lb4Lb#5: But We're Okay, We're Fine

I wanna clear my head,
I wanna drink that sun,
I'm gonna love you good and strong
While our love is good and young.
- Get Out The MapNormally, this "lb4lb" thing is about an album (or two) that particularly moved me in some way. Nothing is as frustrating as buying an entire CD that only has one or two tracks that you really like on it; and few things are as satisfying as finding a collection of songs that flow together and keep you coming back for the whole set.

But THIS time, I want to talk about a "lb4lb" career.

The best thing you've ever done for me
Is to help me take my life less seriously
It's only life, after all.
- Closer to fineFolk music doesn't get paid the respect it deserves, partly because folk fans pay it FAR too much respect. It's an art form based on intimacy, and the fandom associated with other genres simply spoils the effect.

Nothing kills the joy of listening to Peter Paul and Mary like hearing someone blather on about the symbolism of Puff The Magic Dragon. (I know it's a work of subtle genius, man, you don't need to explain why!) Nothing makes a noble Woody Guthrie protest song more boring than hearing about how noble and historic it is.

(That's not to say covering folk isn't a great idea. Billy Bragg and Wilco paid a fine tribute to Woody with Mermaid Avenue and Mermaid Avenue Vol. 2; and Bruce Springsteen didPete Seeger proud with We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions.)

Folk is at its best when it is left alone; a troubadour with an instrument. A guitar, three chords, and the Truth. And a little bit of history.

All the shiny little trinkets of temptation
(make new friends)
Something new instead of something old
(but keep the old)
All you gotta do is scratch beneath the surface
(but remember what is gold)
And it's fools gold
- Power Of TwoThey've played with Michael Stipe of R.E.M. They toured with The B-52's bassist, Sara Lee. Stephen King set part of a novel around one of their concerts. They sell out tours around the world.

But, there is no reason on earth why the Indigo Girls should be so damned popular. They don't get airplay. They aren't "pretty". Their songs are arguably "all the same" (unless you're actually listening to them). If you're looking at surfaces, theirs is dusty, and someone has written, "Best Buy is that way" in the dust to help move you on.

Scratch beneath that surface, though... you see denim. You feel the calluses on your fingertips. You might smell some weed smoke. But you'll hear those voices. You'll look up to see two women with guitars, and you will swear they are angels giving you something that will change your life.

My friend tanner she says you know
Me and jesus were of the same heart
The only thing that keeps us distant
Is that I keep fuckin up
- Shame On YouI don't really know many facts about Amy Ray and Emily Saliers; I heard they were Christians, I heard they were lesbians. I heard they used to be a couple, and I heard...

I heard the music.

That's all that matters, in the end. There is nothing I can say as a fan that will matter, or make a difference to you. But if you listen to that music, those words.

It took a long time to
become the thing I am to you.
And you won't tear it apart
without a fight, without a heart.
- Become YouThey are tough, honest, beautiful. You won't care about every song on every album; at least, not at first. But they will speak to you, and you will feel something; and it will be like the realization that part of you was asleep. Something you didn't know was hurting will be soothed.

When we get a little distance some things get clearer
Give em the space our hearts grow nearer
I ran as hard as I could and still ended up here
but it's alright
- It's Alright

Lb4Lb#4: Where There's Smoke There's Fire and Trouble

Just got back from 2 weeks in Arizona, and I state for the record: I'll take 99.9 F° in Phoenix over 85 in Baltimore ANY time. When they say "it's a dry heat", they ain't kiddin'.

But now we're back, and the settling in process can begin: buying groceries, finishing chores that were left hanging (like blogging and posting music journals), and trying to absorb our fortnight of adventure. This includes, of course, scrobbling the 294 tracks played as we drove all over the Grand Canyon state, and ripping the CDs purchased and - so far - unscrobbled.

Great trip, full of music and family and food, and lots of driving. The lovely bride allowed me to pick up the new Weezer (Pork And Beans seemed to be the theme song of the trip), and the recent Lyle Lovett (It's Not Big It's Large), which impressed both my father and my 5-year-old daughter with both Up In Indiana and Up In Indiana (Acoustic Version).

To visit the Grand Canyon, we borrowed my aunt's cabin, which wasn't far from the famed Route 66, a road so famous it has a song ...which is also so famous that I can't link to all of the versions that I know and love in one journal. (I highly recommend comparing the Depeche Mode and John Mayer covers for a real kick in the head.)

But it was a small bit of serendipity that brought my favorite version up on the iPod as we drove along that stretch of road in Flagstaff, Arizona (don't forget Winona): Buckwheat Zydeco's cover on his album Where There's Smoke There's Fire.

Talk about an album made for the "lb4lb" tag; from the smokin' lead off question What You Gonna Do, to the gentle reminder that It's Getting Late, Buck doesn't let up. There's a healthy dose of rollicking blues, pure bayou madness (Pour Tout Quelque'un); Dwight Yoakum shows up to duet on Hey Good Lookin', and David Hidalgo of Los Lobos fame produces the whole shebang. It's simply 11 tracks of pure love & joy being squeezed out of a flaming accordion, and it is Good.

But it's short.

In fact, I'd feel like I was cheating you if I only gave you a taste of this stuff, so I'll mention Buck's more recent release, Trouble, which I'd dare say sounds even better (though none of the tracks are yet available yet on Last.fm).

Man... vacation rocks.

Lb4Lb#3: Kiko, the Pistol, and the Heart

La Bamba is one of those utterly ubiquitous songs; I've heard it played a million times in a million places by a million different bands. From Hawaiian dancers at the Arizona State Fair to a pair of Spanish guitarists in a cafe in St. Petersburg, Russia, it seems like everyone has taken a crack at it.

It's always a fun song to hear, but my favorite version of La Bamba has always been the version that Los Lobos played on the La Bamba film soundtrack (1987). Not only do they manage to capture the sound of Ritchie Valens, but the last few seconds of the song feature the band playing something that sounds more traditionally Mexican. It was this traditional sound that I loved more than anything else about the song.

I was fascinated enough to seek out the band's other albums; they came out with The Neighborhood, and then the awesome Kiko. Kiko was a mind-blowing breakthrough for a number of reasons. I loved the dark innocence of Kiko and the Lavendar Moon, and the wistfully mellow beauty of the Dream In Blue. Peace is still one of the tracks I give people when I want them to discover this band, because it showcases David Hidalgo's fantastic voice and intricate guitar skills so well.

But as much as I enjoyed these songs, I kept going back to the last few seconds of La Bamba, and wishing they'd do more songs with traditional instruments. It reminded me of the restaurant we used to go to with my grandparents on the occasional Sunday afternoon; it made my skin remember the feeling of the Phoenix sun, and I could recall that sensation of being full of exotic food, surrounded by people who loved me and the clean and nourishing smells of tortilla and dust hovering in the dry air.

This was in the days before I had internet, of course, or I would have found La Pistola y el Corazón a lot sooner than I did.

I was cruising through the stacks at the public library, and I was looking for something new. I'd heard about this new Buena Vista Social Club CD, and had wandered into the Spanish-language section to check it out, and there it was: this Los Lobos album full of traditional ballads, corridos, son, and... okay, I'll be honest: I don't know or care what you call them. These are just good songs, and a strong argument against ignoring music in other languages (how much sooner would I have found this gem if it had been sorted with the rest of Los Lobos' albums?)

The album only clocks in at 25 minutes, but it's 25 minutes of pure genius. This is a band that knows how to make beautiful sounds stick to a recording medium, and they are playing the songs that they loved when they were growing up. It's that love that comes through.

I ended up buying a copy - and that's saying something; I'm notoriously cheap. I took it with me to England when we were stationed there in 1998, and when the grey gloom got me down, I would put this album on in my E-reg Mini Cooper, and blast through the tiny villages, fields of rapeseed and rabbits, and across abandoned train tracks with golden sunshine in my heart and badly mispronounced Spanish pouring from my lips.

Needless to say, I've been happy with their more recent stuff; This Time was timeless, and I had a blast hearing favorites like Tom Waits, Elvis Costello, and Richard Thompson cover Los Lobos tracks on The Ride. Cesar Rosas's Soul Disguise was another favorite while I was in the UK.

All good stuff; but when I want to hear Los Lobos, it is La Pistola y el Corazon I reach for every time.

Peace.

Lb4Lb #2: The Rhythm of the Saints

Some stories are magical, meant to be sung
Song from the mouth of the river
When the world was young
And all of these spirit voices rule the night
-Spirit VoicesIt is hard for me to be moved by poetry. I'm just a little too cynical, and a little too leery of pretty words and images. I find beauty in the broken and the deformed things (see the first Lb4Lb review for proof of that), and tend not to be easily impressed by the flowery or the openly sentimental.

So when I tell you that an album is unapologetically beautiful, deeply moving, and still complex and fascinating after nearly twenty years on my "play often" list, you have to know it is full of powerful stuff.

Soon our fortunes will be made, my darling
And we will leave this loathsome little town
- ProofI discovered Paul Simon's world famous Graceland album near the end of my high school days, and literally wore my first cassette copy out in my car stereo before I graduated.

There was some controversy at the time about the U.S. embargo against apartheid, but it was Graceland that got me heavily into African music about then. I was so in love with the music on that album, I went and sought out every artist related to it I could find: Los Lobos, Ladysmith Black Mambazo, C.J. Chenier, Bakithi Kumalo (who played that wicked 2-measure bass solo on You Can Call Me Al), and eventually the classic compilation, The Indestructible Beat of Soweto - Volume One.

When I found out about the The Rhythm Of The Saints, I couldn't wait to hear it. I scoured the used record shops for a copy, because there was no way I could afford it new, and finally, about a year after it came out, I did hear it... and went back to Graceland.

She says ''Maybe these emotions are
As near to love as love will ever be''
So I agree...
- She Moves OnOkay, so it wasn't an immediate "hit" with me. I liked the rat-a-tat-tat of The Obvious Child and the frenetic guitar work of Proof enough to play it on occasion, and even got to know some of the words well enough to sing along. My best friend loved the soaring Portugese vocals Naná Vasconcelos provided on Spirit Voices enough to go root out his album, Rain Dance, but at the time, I only thought it was a pretty song.

I was immune to the poetry.

Who says: Hard times?
I'm used to them
The speeding planet burns
I'm used to that
My life's so common it disappears
And sometimes even music
Cannot substitute for tears
- The Cool, Cool RiverIt was only after a period of about ten years that I began to realize how often I was turning to this album when I had hard times. That line about my life being so common, and music substituting for tears... that captured me. Pretty words mean nothing, but THAT - that struck me to the core of my being.

We had a lot of fun
We had a lot of money
We had a little son and we thought we'd call him Sonny
Sonny gets married and moves away
Sonny has a baby and bills to pay
Sonny gets sunnier
Day by day by day by day
- The Obvious ChildThe ton-of-bricks moment, the moment I realized how deeply this album had hooked me, was when I found myself paging through my yearbook, telling my daughter about the people under the funny haircuts. My god, some of them have died! Some have fled from themselves... and I have certainly struggled from there to get here. And these songs somehow knew before I did, how my life would play out.

That is the work of genius.

These pretty songs, with the flowing rhythms, the lush arrangements, sweet vocals, and the slippery, dancing lyrics; they are not just beautiful: they are beauty. There is no "off note", no track that is not worth plumbing for every word and note. If you are caught singing along to this album while stopped at a traffic light, there is no line that will cause you to feel embarrassed; it is that good.

These stories are magical, indeed, and were meant to be sung again and again. Aloud. In front of strangers.

I know the reason I
Feel so blessed
My heart still splashes
Inside my chest...
- She Moves OnPretty words can betray you, mere skill amounts to cleverness, and cleverness wears thin. But these songs are a constant, brilliant reminder of the magical ingredient that keeps this heart splashing: joy. "The cross is in the ballpark", he sings, but it means nothing without that joy. And that really should be Obvious, child.

Lb4Lb #1: Swordfishtrombones & Rain Dogs

I started using the lb4lb tag a while back, and mentioned somewhere that it refers to whole albums that are, "pound for pound," the best possible investment of your time. Here's why I think these albums merit so much love:

The first song I ever heard by Tom Waits - at least, the first song I heard that I knew was by Tom waits - was Singapore. That was 18 years ago, and it still ranks as one of the most unusual songs I know. The words veer between nursery silliness and opium madness, coming out of a throat so whiskey-soaked and menthol-smoked, it's a wonder that the singer is still alive.

And he might not be:

We sail tonight for Singapore
We're all as mad as hatters here
I've fallen for tawny moor
Took off to the land of Nod
Drank with all the Chinamen
Walked the sewers of Paris
I danced along a colored wind
Dangled from a rope of sand
You must say goodbye to meThat song hooked something deep in my psyche; I couldn't say that I liked it, but I kept listening to it. I kept needing to hear it, the way you need to have that nightmare again just so you can prove to yourself that it really was a nightmare. And after a while, I knew every song on that album.

I could dance the Cemetery Polka, and I would Tango 'til I was sore. Time made me weep at an age where I didn't know enough to be weeping about time.

The album, Rain Dogs was named on Rolling Stone magazine's Top 100 albums of the 1980s, coming in at a respectable #21. I remember seeing that, and marvelling at such an unlikely entry on a list like that.

Turns out, it had an actual hit on it: Downtown Train, which was successfully covered byRod Stewart. G.E. Smith of Saturday Night Live fame played guitar on the Waits version. By the time you get that far in, though, you'll either be running for the hills, or you'll be deep in Blind Love.

Rain Dogs was the second album in a sort of trilogy, though. Waits followed it up withFrank's Wild Years, an "operetta in one act", which was actually produced for the stage. The first album of the trilogy, though, was Swordfishtrombones, and this was by far my favorite of the three.

This isn't a "concept album", but it is very much the story of a soldier, or sailor, far away from home, and both marvelling at and wallowing in the seedier corners of the world. This album is an old homeless man that just needs a buck so he can catch a bus to Des Moines, and if you follow him through the alley, he can get you something you'd really like...

It begins with the creepy shenanigans of Underground, where you can feel the hammer blows of dwarves tunneling their way out of the city; there's the false respite of Shore Leave (do you ever really get any rest on your vacation?), and an instrumental that makes you wonder just what Dave the Butcher has been up to.

Then you are treated to one of the most beautiful songs you can imagine: Johnsburg, Illinois - a minute and a half of sweetness before the bombast of 16 Shells From A 30.6 tries to "whittle you into kindlin'!"

The second half of the album is where it Tom really shines, though. A tall tale (Swordfishtrombone), a shaggy dog story (Frank's Wild Years) and a dance with the devil (Down, Down, Down) bundle you up and set you out on a blanket next to an old lady selling her Soldiers Things.

a tinker, a tailor
a soldier's things
his rifle, his boots full of rocks
and this one is for bravery
and this one is for me
and everything's a dollar
in this boxYou don't know if you should buy them or not, but you know whatever you choose, you'll regret it.

And you'll regret it if you don't give these albums at least one listen; it's like a trip on a Greyhound bus - no one wants to travel that way, but there's a mundane danger to it that you have to experience at least once in your life. If nothing else, just to see how far down you can go without actually meeting the Devil.