Alexandersmap

    Category: Music

    • George Harrison in Four Songs

      George Harrison passed away twenty years ago today, on the 29th of November, 2001. So soon after 9/11 it made the moment feel like the universe was piling on a bit, for George—the quiet Beatle—was the one I identified with the most. In these last twenty years I’ve come to appreciate his work even more. So on this anniversary of his passing, here are four of many extraordinary songs from George Harrison’s solo career:

      Give Me Love (Give Me Peace On Earth)
      Give me hope
      Help me cope, with this heavy load
      Trying to, touch and reach you with
      Heart and soul
      … My lord

      A regular on every upbeat, joyful playlist I create, this song makes you feel glad to be alive. And that’s not unusual with George Harrison songs, for he made the most of his time on this Earth. You can easily say he was the most spiritual Beatle, trying to find meaning in this crazy world we live in and turning that search into songs of celebration and fellowship. My Sweet Lord is another example of this spiritualism exploration, and the two often end up on the same playlists.

      Behind That Locked Door
      Why are you still crying?
      Your pain is now through
      Please forget those teardrops
      Let me take them for you
      The love you are blessed with
      This world’s waiting for
      So let out your heart please, please
      From behind that locked door

      I’ve heard that George Harrison had a collection of ukuleles and loved playing them. This is a beautiful song for that particular instrument, and you feel George drawing a smile out of you even on your darkest days. Such a quietly delightful invitation out of your protective shell and back into the world.

      What Is Life
      Tell me, what is my life without your love?
      Tell me, who am I without you by my side?

      Sure, you can interpret this song a couple of ways. Is the relationship between two people in love or between a person and God? You might even consider that this was the first album released after The Beatles broke up, and it can mean something else entirely for you. It’s whatever you want it to mean, and it sticks in your brain for the catchiness and clever lyrics.

      All Those Years Ago
      We’re living in a bad dream
      They’ve forgotten all about mankind
      And you were the one they backed up to the wall
      All those years ago
      You were the one who imagined it all
      All those years ago

      George’s song about John Lennon, written after he was murdered in New York, celebrates the bond between the two lifelong friends even as it pointedly dismisses those who profited by knocking them and others down. These lyrics still stand out as we deal with a rise in nationalism, racism, and profiteering as the world struggles to reverse climate change and bring about positive and inclusive social change. John would have been a loud voice in the conversation today, and I suspect George would have been right there shoulder-to-shoulder with him. As he was all those years ago.

    • Thoughts on Get Back

      You and I have memories
      Longer than the road that stretches out ahead
      – John Lennon/Paul McCartney, Two of Us

      Watching close to eight hours of the creative process as The Beatles hash through two album’s worth of material in the Disney+ series Get Back was fascinating and informative. Fascinating as a lifetime Beatles fan watching these four guys work through songs you know by heart from the first basic notes to the arrival at magical songs that became so essential to your own life’s soundtrack. Let It Be and Abbey Road songs developed before your eyes and ears. Informative as you see four guys on the edge of breaking up, still pushing through with the work.

      They knew who they were. The Beatles were the biggest band in the world, the biggest band that ever was, and they recognized that what they released mattered a great deal. That must in turn be both an enormous burden and a cattle prod to get to it already. But then you had this other dynamic at work, with each of them building their own lives, four egos growing increasingly independent of each other. Paul deeply involved and at his peak creatively, pushing for more contribution from the rest of the Beatles. John nonchalant and locked in on the ever-present Yoko. George rising to a higher level and chafing at John and especially Paul’s perceived dismissiveness. Ringo showing up early, ready to go, watching things falling apart and trying to be the glue that kept it together just long enough.

      And then they started playing music preparing for their live rooftop concert. Originally it was going to be an indoor affair, maybe even some exotic location, but they wouldn’t have anything to do with that. They were tired and weren’t going to leave the country for a show, nor were they going to do the same old thing they’d done before. There was a captured moment when they told Paul about the rooftop idea and his eyes lit up, “That’s it!” all over his face.

      Growing up with The Beatles larger than life, you tend to stick each of these four young men into a bucket, representing something in your mind. But each turned out to be much more than you thought they were. Get Back reminds you of this. They were just four guys with a special chemistry that became a force of nature. And you see that as they jam together, mastering the new songs and plucking old ones out to play. Playing music together is when they rose to be The Beatles again. And the room filled with joy.

      They had memories that were longer than the road that stretched out ahead. Together for over 14 years at that point, they were about to break up and go their separate ways, still competing and trying to one-up each other for years to come. But John would be dead in just less than 12 years. This was their famous final scene as a band, something the viewer knows all along. We find ourselves wishing they’d snap out of it and focus on the work a bit more. Squeeze just a little more brilliance out of their time together. But in the end celebrating what they did give us.

      And maybe turning a bit of the spotlight back on yourself, recognizing that you could be producing more too. For if there’s a lesson in Get Back, it’s that even the most brilliant magic starts off as an awkward tune in your head. Put yourself into the work and see what grows from it.

    • Getting to Deeper Work

      “In an age of network tools… knowledge workers increasingly replace deep work with the shallow alternative—constantly sending and receiving e-mail messages like human network routers, with frequent breaks for quick hits of distraction. Larger efforts that would be well served by deep thinking, such as forming a new business strategy or writing an important grant application, get fragmented into distracted dashes that produce muted quality…. Spend enough time in a state of frenetic shallowness and you permanently reduce your capacity to perform deep work.” – Cal Newport, Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World

      I think the reason I get up early is to think, uninterrupted. And when I am interrupted, by other early risers or by something as simple as the cat meowing for food my own deep thinking is disrupted, often to a point where I have to put away the work and find a way to reset myself. The beautiful thing about posting a blog every day is I’m forced to find a way through the shallow pool I find myself swimming in back to deeper waters, distractions be damned. But the work never feels the same.

      Noise-cancelling headphones help a lot. When I go deep I’ll play the same song on repeat until I’m done with whatever project I’m committed to finishing. For me, two songs work particularly well for this, Mark Knopfler’s Wild Theme (no surprise if you know what my favorite movie is) and Claude Debussy’s Clair de lune because they both quietly soar and have no lyrics to draw me out of my focused state. After years of this trick, playing one of these songs becomes Pavlovian in snapping my mind to attention.

      Long walks in nature help reset the mind when you find yourself in frenetic shallowness, and I have my go-to spots for this too. Walking helps you sort out the puzzle pieces in your subconscious mind, putting all the pieces on the table and shuffling them one step at a time. If the walk goes well you sort things out just enough. But sometimes I find myself dwelling on another puzzle altogether, and realize the distraction wasn’t swimming shallow at all but this elephant in the room that you’ve got to remove before you can properly focus on the original project. Long walks help sift the pieces enough for you to see what you’ve been staring at all along.

      Another trick of the trade that countless brilliant minds subscribe to is strict daily application of Julia Cameron’s Morning Pages. Write whatever comes out of your mind onto the page for three pages in a gushing stream of consciousness until you’ve gotten all the noise out of yourself, and then shift to creative output. I’ve tried this a few times but find myself frustrated by the time spent on Morning Pages that I could be spending on the work itself. The fault isn’t in the process but in my commitment to it. Enough people swear by it that it must work, and to go deeper I might have to recommit to this process myself.

      “The way to live is to create.
      Die Empty.
      Get every idea out of your head and into reality.”
      – Derek Sivers,       How to Live

      Whatever gets you there, deeper work is where we mine the very best of ourselves. Eliminate as many distractions as possible, retreat to your proverbial cabin in the woods and do the work. While there’s still time.

    • Whispers in the Woods

      Have you ever wandered lonely through the woods?
      And everything there feels just as it should
      You’re part of the life there
      You’re part of something good
      If you’ve ever wandered lonely through the woods
      – Brandi Carlile, Phillip and John Hanseroth, Have You Ever

      It’s hunting season in New England, and bright orange is the color of choice for those who dare wander into the woods. Admittedly I haven’t been wandering in the local woods all that much lately, for reasons both valid and delusional, but mostly because I got out of the habit of placing myself there. You know when you’ve been gone too long, you feel it in your bones. I’d been gone too long and finally did something about it.

      Walking through the bare trees of New England in late Autumn, smelling the fallen leaves in the cool, damp air, delivers a unique sense of place not achieved in a world of concrete and steel. Inevitably you think of those who wandered these woods before you, whether yesterday or a thousand years ago, the woods hold their hopes and dreams and secrets just as firmly as they’ll hold your own.

      There are whispers in the forest, easily heard in solitude. They’re reflections of our greatest hopes and fears. Yes, some fear the woods, hearing ghosts, fairies or dark spirits. I think we mostly hear our own inner voice, caught in the wind and reflected back to us as naked truth, as cold and bare as the tree trunks and branches.

      In his enduring gift Walden, Thoreau described the “indescribable innocence and beneficence of Nature”. Nature surely gives back far more than it receives from humanity. Shouldn’t we offer something good in return for the gift of nature?

      Readers of this blog know that I chafe at loud talkers, people who play music while hiking, motorized vehicles, and other such encroachments in the woods. It feels blasphemous, disrespectful, and the antithesis of all I go there for. But the trees themselves don’t care, they’ve seen it all before and will again. The intrusion is mine to bear, the trees will still be here, hopefully, long after the rest of us clear out.

      This too shall pass, the wind whispers through the bared forest. The leaves returning to earth underfoot voice their agreement. Here, you’re part of something good. One day we’ll all be ghosts, mere whispers in the wind. But not today. Today we were alive, and the woods felt just as they should.

    • Up to the Nostrils

      “I think you should always do shit that scares you. You just always have to do stuff that scares you. Just wander right off into the water right up to where just your nostrils are out of it. And then just try and live there.” – Brandi Carlile, on The Howard Stern Show

      How deep are you in the body of water you presently find yourself? How can you wade in deeper? How can you challenge yourself more than you are right now? Are you afraid of drowning? Or simply afraid of getting a little wet?

      Stern is a brilliant interviewer, and when he has someone as extraordinary as Brandi Carlile on his show, someone who rises to the occasion because she’s not afraid to wade in up to the nostrils, the conversation is compelling. Because there’s something drawn out of that conversation that transcends the people talking, they draw something out of you too. You find yourself questioning just how deeply you’ve been willing to wade into that water yourself. In that question is the answer for what you’ve got to do next, should you have the courage to do so.

      What comes next? Where do we go from here? What do you have to give up within yourself to get try to live in that place where you’re just on the edge of drowning? For that is the place where you transcend the ordinary.

      We forget, in our fear of wading in so deeply, that we don’t have to drown. We might just learn to swim in deeper waters. We might just thrive when we find that scary stuff isn’t all that scary after all. Go deeper.

    • Writing to Schubert

      How many hours
      do I sit here
      aching to do

      what I do not do
      when, suddenly,
      he throws a single note

      higher than the others
      so that I feel
      the green field of hope,

      and then, descending,
      all this world’s sorrow,
      so deadly, so beautiful.
      – Mary Oliver, Schubert

      Today is the anniversary of the death of Franz Schubert, who passed away at the shockingly young age of 31 on the 19th of November 1828. It’s shocking because of how much he accomplished in such a short span of time. Not so shocking when you consider the state of modern medicine at the time: he was treated with mercury to cure what was believed to be syphilis. I’m grateful for a lot of things in my life — being born at a time where medical treatment is a bit less hit or miss is right up there on my list. But having better treatment options guarantees nothing. We still must produce while we can.

      The inspiration with Schubert is in the mastery he had reached in his last few years. It’s something we can draw from in our own creative lives, as Mary Oliver clearly did, and I regret not leveraging his soundtrack more often myself. But then again it all comes to us at different times, doesn’t it? We all reach that point of creative inspiration when we wake up and finally see the truth. If Schubert offers any warning from his grave, it’s that we shouldn’t wait. Memento Mori.

      Schubert’s brief and brilliant life informs: we can do a lot in a relatively brief amount of time. And surely, there’s still time to do it today. But maybe not tomorrow. Carpe diem. Now get to work.

    • Carolina On My Mind

      Dark and silent, late last night
      I think I might have heard the highway call my name
      Geese in flight and dogs that bite
      Other signs that might be omens say, “I’m goin’, I’m goin’”
      I’m gone to Carolina in my mind
      – James Taylor, Carolina in My Mind

      There’s a sense of place that feels right when you’re in the Carolinas. Something about the land that feels like home. Something about the people that makes you feel welcome. I can feel it when I’m in the region, it’s a place I could live in. Judging from the list of best places to live in the USA put out by a couple of publications, I’m not the only one to feel this way.

      North and South Carolina are increasingly thought of as home for transplants from the north. Those looking to retire somewhere that feels like home without the extreme weather, those who are young and aspire to build a great life for themselves in an up and coming place. Those who just want to be where the air is clean and the people are friendly.

      There’s no doubt that Raleigh, North Carolina is a trendy city. It often hits the top five on those best places to live lists, and why not? Great job market, great college scene, easy access to the outdoors and city life alike. Raleigh is one of those places you step into and feel like you could live in forever, should you ever want to move away from all that you’ve built around yourself in the place you call home already.

      The Warehouse District is a distinctly cool place with great restaurants, art galleries, breweries and coffee shops in old brick buildings. If you love sushi try O-Ku for delicious nigiri and sashimi, if you love tapas get yourself to the restaurant Barcelona (of course, the city in Spain is great too!) for a great selection of small plates. These are just two restaurants jammed full of people celebrating life for awhile in a place built for it. Raleigh is just one great city in the Carolinas with great vibes reverberating with people in the know. Charlotte, Greenville, Charleston, Winston-Salem, Asheville also get a lot of attention.

      On the opposite end of the food spectrum, go to Biscuitville for a uniquely tasty biscuit with a Carolina twist. Don’t worry, there’s plenty of opportunities to burn off those epic biscuits with great hiking and mountain biking in the area. The Carolinas deserve the attention they’re getting as a wonderful place to move to. But let’s keep that to ourselves, we don’t want to ruin a good thing.

    • Into My Arms

      And I don’t believe in the existence of angels
      But looking at you I wonder if that’s true
      But if I did I would summon them together
      And ask them to watch over you
      To each burn a candle for you
      To make bright and clear your path
      And to walk, like Christ, in grace and love
      And guide you into my arms
      – Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Into My Arms

      Some songs you hear take time to enter your rotation as “favorites”, but others grab you the first time you hear them. Nick Cave’s Into My Arms is the latter kind of song for me. And it’s one of those songs you don’t exactly play at parties, so I have no idea how other people feel about it, but for me it’s on that playlist I play for myself. I know I’m not the only one, you just need to look at the number of views on YouTube for this song in the many performances he’s put out there over the years to see it hits a cord for a lot of people.

      I heard an interview with Bono recently where he mentioned that Nick Cave played this song at the memorial service for Michael Hutchence in a darkened room. Bono was so deeply moved by this that the song stays close to his heart to this day. Listen to the song and imagine that moment, and you might never think of it the same way again either. It’s changed how I think of it now, hearing Bono’s story. Elevating it to a new place than before. Maybe my sharing it will change how you think of it too.

      This is a love song, first and foremost, but you know it’s more than that. This is a song about questioning it all, these stories that we all tell ourselves. And maybe acknowledging that there’s something special in the universe to have put a kindred spirit in this world and pointed us towards each other at just the right moment. Serendipity? Or something more? To say you know the answer to that only means you’ve embraced one story over another. The only story I trust in the story of today, just you and me and this crazy world we live in for now.

      Just another song on my Memento Mori playlist, as I march through this one brief life. You might think that’s a morbid thing, remembering that we all must die. I think of it as a reminder to live with grace and love in these days of light. And to celebrate our time together while it’s here. To remember, really, that we all must love.

    • A Sparkplug for the Brain in Five Songs

      If someday my mind succumbs to the debilitating fog of dementia that robs my father and so many others of their familiarity and wit, put noise-cancelling headphones over my ears, turn up the volume and play the electric guitar anthems of my youth. I don’t know nearly enough about reversing the downward slide of dementia, but I do know that music seems to help. My Dad might not remember my name, but he knows the words to his favorite country music. There’s magic in music, and it seems to remain a gift for us to the end of our days.

      I don’t know what my own future will bring, but I eat my blueberries and leafy greens and stay hydrated in hopes of keeping the pipes clean. They say a heart-healthy diet and a brain-healthy diet are the same, which seems to offer a clear path for proactive nutrition. But we never know, do we?

      I do know that nothing drew me out of my awkward teenage shell like the guitar work of the late 1970’s and early 1980’s rock music. And, just maybe, that might work again should I someday need a sparkplug for the brain. May it never be needed but as a nice throwback jolt of energy and a reminder of a time when my dad knew my name and would yell it to have me turn down the music:

      Surrender – Cheap Trick
      I can still remember listening to this song in a friend’s basement, along with, funny enough, his Kiss records.

      Unchained – Van Halen
      This performance is big, brash Van Halen at their raunchiest, and rocking the house.

      Rock You Like a Hurricane – The Scorpions
      German rock and roll that must be turned up extra loud.

      Roll With The Changes – REO Speedwagon
      One of those songs you can’t help but turn up and speed up to.

      Gloria – U2
      The band, and the performance, that stirred my Celtic soul and changed my perspective on music forever. U2 became and remains to this day my virtual house band.

    • Look at That Sky, Life’s Begun

      Don’t let me hear you say life’s taking you nowhere
      Angel
      Come get up, my baby
      Look at that sky, life’s begun
      Nights are warm and the days are young
      Come get up, my baby
      — David Bowie, Golden Years

      Attitude is everything in life, and at some point you’ve got to shake yourself loose from whatever holds you back and get going already. Even during the pandemic, a dark time for modern humanity, we hear of plenty of people who got out in the world and did something amazing. So why not now?

      If you believe the stories, David Bowie wrote Golden Years for Elvis to sing. Admittedly, that would have been a fascinating take on the song. There’s an element of sadness in the lyrics, and I can see Bowie having someone like Elvis in mind when he wrote it. I think about the Elvis of 1975, only a couple of years before he died. He felt like old news and a bit used up in the world, but he was only 42 when he died. He was dragged down by drugs and distraction, not by age.

      There’s a lesson there. Don’t get bogged down in the muck life throws at you. Focus intensely on the things you want to do in your life. For all the celebration of those who rise up, this world would rather have you consume than produce. Consumption will be the death of us all. Instead, get up and produce something of consequence.

      Lean into your dreams. Look up at that sky. Life’s just begun, Angel.