Alexandersmap

    Category: Music

    • Rest In Peace, Happy Enchilada

      And then COVID-19 took John Prine…  I wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to him.  Surely losing Bill Withers to heart disease last week was tough enough, but now another voice from my private stock is gone too soon.  I share the Withers tunes with the world, and the world embraces them.  But honestly most of John Prine’s songs I listened to on my own.  It’s not that he didn’t speak for most of us in his charmingly self-effacing, folksy way, it’s that you don’t roll out Prine songs at parties.  It’s thinking music, sung in a gravely voice that warmed the soul.  His most famous song was Angel of Montgomery, which Bonnie Raitt covered and made it a hit.  Enough people know that one that I’ll leave it to fly on its own.  Here are a few of my favorites.

      All The Best
      “I wish you love – and happiness
      I guess I wish – you all the best
      I wish you don’t – do like I do
      And never fall in love with someone like you
      Cause if you fell – just like I did
      You’d probably walk around the block like a little kid
      But kids don’t know – they can only guess
      How hard it is – to wish you happiness”

      All the best John, you’ll be missed…

      Glory of True Love
      “No, the glory of true love
      Is it will last your whole life through
      Never will go out of fashion
      Always will look good on you”

      Jesus the Missing Years
      The video on this one isn’t great, but John Prine is, and that makes this version worth listening to.

      That’s The Way That The World Goes Round
      “That’s the way that the world goes ’round.
      You’re up one day and the next you’re down.
      It’s half an inch of water and you think you’re gonna drown.
      That’s the way that the world goes ’round.”

      I love the live version of this John sings where he talks about the woman who confused the lyrics “inch of water” as “happy enchilada” , but this version with Stephen Colbert is new to me and put a smile on my face when I watched it.  We all need to smile more nowadays, don’t we?  Rest in peace, Happy Enchilada.

       

    • We Are Stardust

      Serendipity lately seems to be taking me to the stars.  I dance with the stars often, as anyone who follows me can attest.  But the stars seem aligned (sorry) for me to write about them once again today.  It began with Ryan Holiday quoting the familiar phrase “we are stardust” in his exceptional book Stillness Is The Key.  That got me thinking about the Joni Mitchell song Woodstock (with apologies to Joni and CSNY, my favorite version is James Taylor singing it on the Howard Stern Show or if you prefer, in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony for Joni Mitchell)

      “We are stardust
      Billion year old carbon
      We are golden
      Caught in the devil’s bargain
      And we’ve got to get ourselves
      Back to the garden”
      – Joni Mitchell, Woodstock

      Heavy stuff when you think about it; we’re made up of stardust; billion year old carbon recycled into our present form.  Our bodies are made up of the timeless material of infinity.  And our thoughts are built on the timeless wisdom of the ages.  That makes us… timeless in a way, doesn’t it?  And one with the very universe around us.  Whoah.  But could this be true?  I believe so, but sought out validation with a Google search nonetheless (because isn’t that where the truth is?)  And I came across a Carl Sagan quote confirming that yes, we are indeed made up of star stuff:

      “We are a way for the universe to know itself. Some part of our being knows this is where we came from. We long to return. And we can, because the cosmos is also within us. We’re made of star stuff,” – Carl Sagan

      So this fascination with the stars is a longing to return? Maybe, but I think it’s more a feeling of solidarity with the infinite universe around me. A way for the universe to know itself… From the daffodils patiently biding their time in the sun to the stars I gaze up at light years away from that sun. To infinity and beyond, if you will. My reading finally brought me this morning to W.D. Auden (via Brain Pickings) and this stunning poem, included in its entirety because I just couldn’t help myself:

      “Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
      That, for all I care, I can go to hell,
      But on earth is the least
      We have to dread from man or beast.

      How should we like it were stars to burn
      With a passion for us, we could not return?
      If equal affection cannot be,
      Let the more loving one be me.

      Admirer as I think I am
      Of stars that do not give a damn,
      I cannot, now I see them, say
      I missed one terribly all day.

      Were all stars to disappear or die,
      I should learn to look at an empty sky
      And feel its total dark sublime,
      Though this may take me a little time.”
      – W.H. Auden, The More Loving One

      When the student is ready the teacher will appear.  I’m a ready student, looking up at the universe in wonder, and marveling at the bounty being returned to me by timeless teachers.  And isn’t that being truly alive, getting out of our own heads and dancing with this timeless wisdom?  We’re all stars dancing in the universe. Some brighter than others. Personally, I strive to be brighter still that I might offer more. If equal affection cannot be, Let the more loving one be me.

    • RIP Bill Withers

      As if things weren’t challenging enough already in 2020, I heard we just lost Bill Withers to heart complications.  He brought reassurance and joy to the world, and especially now in these times he’ll be missed.  How can you not hear Lovely Day and not feel good about being alive?  How can you not hear Lean On Me and not feel that this too shall pass?  And so I reflect on four songs that everyone knows, or should know, from the great Bill Withers:

      Lean On Me
      Who hasn’t needed this song at least once or twice in their lives?  Yeah, that’s what I thought.

      “Sometimes in our lives we all have pain
      We all have sorrow
      But if we are wise
      We know that there’s always tomorrow

      Lean on me, when you’re not strong
      And I’ll be your friend
      I’ll help you carry on
      For it won’t be long
      ‘Til I’m gonna need
      Somebody to lean on”

      Use Me
      Sure, she’s abusing you, but it’s way too fun to say goodbye.

      “My brother sit me right down and he talked to me
      He told me that I ought not to let you just walk on me
      And I’m sure he meant well yeah but when our talk was through
      I said brother if you only knew you’d wish that you were in my shoes
      You just keep on using me until you use me up
      Until you use me up”
      Ain’t No Sunshine
      That certain someone has gone away, and man I’m in a dark place now.

      “Wonder this time where she’s gone
      Wonder if she’s gone to stay
      Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone
      And this house just ain’t no home
      Anytime she goes away”

      Lovely Day
      Pure joy, and a regular on my playlists, especially as the weather gets a bit warmer.  This is an automatic mood booster.

      “When I wake up in the morning, love
      And the sunlight hurts my eyes
      And something without warning, love
      Bears heavy on my mind

      Then I look at you
      And the world’s alright with me
      Just one look at you
      And I know it’s gonna be
      A lovely day”

       

    • Words

      “Words are flowing out
      Like endless rain into a paper cup
      They slither while they pass
      They slip away across the universe”
      – The Beatles, Across The Universe

      I was listening to John Lennon sing this song early this morning, well before the light caught up with me, on the noise-cancelling headphones I’d normally wear on a plane traveling to drown out the roar and the chatter.  At home during the magic hour when nobody else is up but me there is no roar and chatter, making the headphones a bit of overkill, but they still have a way of bringing you into the room with the artist singing to you.  And this morning I hung out with Lennon for a bit.

      I suppose I was inspired to revisit The Beatles and John in particular after re-watching the movie Yesterday, well, yesterday. But it was inevitable that I’d come back to them. They always come back to me, or maybe I return to them. It doesn’t matter which, really, just that it happens.  And I came back to Across The Universe just as I’ve been thinking about something I said a few days ago about writing.  It’s not an original thought, mind you, but I always write with it in mind.  Writing this blog is a catch and release for me.  I catch the words that the muse offers me and release them to the universe the same day.  It’s my way of practicing the art of writing every day, on an admittedly eclectic and wide-ranging mix of topics, and publishing it soon thereafter.  And now a few of you are reading it, a few more will find it someday, and the words slip away across the universe.

      I’ve visited The Beatles Museum in Liverpool, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, and the Country Music Hall of Fame, Patsy Cline and Johnny Cash Museums in Nashville within the last six months.  Each offers their own bit of magic and nostalgia, but for me nothing resonates like seeing the handwritten lyrics on some old note paper that an artist jotted down while dancing with the muse.  What once were words coming to mind for the artist became a song the world knows by heart, and that paper forever marks the moment ink met paper and captured the words.

      I know the world isn’t going to know by heart some clever phrase I believe I may capture and release in this blog, but I capture the words and release them anyway.  Someday I’ll be gone – say a long, long time from now, and the blog puts a few words out there in the universe that came through me.  Well, as long as I pay the annual fee anyway. I believe I just bought my words another year. So universe; there’s still time.

    • Crazy for Lovin’ You

      In August of 1961, a couple of months after being thrown through a windshield after a car accident with her brother, Patsy Cline recorded a song that would become the most played song on juke boxes around the country for years to come.  And that’s where I fell in love with this song years ago, 25 years after it was recorded, hearing it over and over on a juke box in The Old Worthen in Lowell, Massachusetts.  With senses refined by pitchers of cheap beer, the pack of us would conspire to plug quarters into the juke box to play “My Way” and “Mercedes Benz” and “Tainted Love” and especially this Patsy Cline hit, the sultry and mournful “Crazy“.  This song has been playing on constant rotation in my brain ever since.

      In Nashville a couple of weeks ago, (which seems like a million years ago now) my daughter and I made our way upstairs from the Johnny Cash Museum to the Patsy Cline Museum for a visit with the timeless Patsy Cline.  We’re coming up on 59 years since she recorded this Willy Nelson song in Nashville, scarred and still on crutches from her car accident.  The magic in this song comes from Owen Bradley’s arrangement, bringing in a mix of musicians who gave it that special sound and propel the careers of many of those involved with the recording.  A-Team session players were brought in to bring the song it’s richness and soul.  Floyd Cramer’s “lonesome cowboy” piano style dominates, with Bob Moore’s acoustic bass driving the song.  Harold Bradley’s six-string guitar punches through and the rich harmonies of the Jordanaires lay the foundation for Patsy Cline to soar over the sonic landscape.   The song was recorded on 3-track, rare at the time, with Patsy nailing down her vocals after the rest of the musicians completed their work.

      As you work your way around the Patsy Cline Museum, you can hear Crazy playing on repeat from a juke box, which seems about right to me given my own beginnings with this classic.  Behind the song was a very driven, very talented young lady who would push aside her injuries from that car accident and create many of the songs that were staples of her catalog.  She would die way too young in a plane crash on March 3, 1963, less than two years after recording Crazy, at the age of 30.  People talk about the day the music died being when Buddy Holly died in a plane crash in 1959, the crash that killed Patsy Cline was just as devastating for Nashville.  Her music lives on, timeless in many ways.  Personally, I can’t hear Crazy and not think about it playing on a juke box in an old bar many years ago.  I suppose that’s just how it’s supposed to feel.

       

      Juke box at the Patsy Cline Museum. Guess which song was playing?

      Set list at the Patsy Cline Museum

    • RCA Studio B

      Elvis used to book his studio time from 6 PM until 7 AM Monday morning at RCA’s Studio B in Nashville and just crank out the songs. After one of these sessions he walked outside to a waiting Army Jeep to report for draft service. You walk into that studio today and it looks a lot like it did then. Same floor and walls, same light fixtures that Elvis requested (“mood lighting”), and same piano Elvis played. The room reverberates Elvis, and it’s fair to say he was the biggest of a long list of performers who have recorded in this studio for the last 6 decades since Roy Acuff built the studio in 1956. . When you walk in there’s a “Wall of Elvis” hits recorded in this studio. Young Elvis was prolific, working hard and building the legend. That wall shows some of his work.

      There’s a certain sound in this room that carries across everyone who’s recorded here. Its an echoing richness to the songs that is very distinctive in songs recorded in Studio B. That sound became known as the “Nashville Sound”. Listen to Jim Reeves (“Welcome To My World“), Dolly Patton’s “I Will Always Love You“, Floyd Cramer’s “Last Date“, The Everly Brothers’ “All I Have To Do Is Dream” and Roy Orbison’s “Only The Lonely (Know The Way I Feel)” are all examples of that sound, all recorded right there in that room.

      The best story I heard about the room was Elvis’ recording of “Are You Lonesome Tonight“. As with all recordings then, it was a single track – you either got it right or you didn’t. The song was recorded in the dark, with all the musicians playing and harmonizing by the glow of a single red light. Towards the very end of the recording Elvis bumped his head on the microphone stand. If you listen to the song you’ll hear the click right at the end of the song. They left it in then and it remains to this day.

      As a music lover it was a bit surreal to be in that room as they played a few of the songs recorded right in the very place. You feel like you’re in a time warp in a way, the walls embrace the sounds and you and in a way you are timeless with that song. Some of the instruments haven’t left that room since they were used in the recordings. I felt a bit like I did when I stood in The Cavern in Liverpool; this was where it all happened. I often write about the ghosts of history whispering in your ear when you visit a place of significance. RCA Studio B is surely a place of significance, but the whispers here are heard around the globe in that Nashville Sound, deep and rich with a little hiss from the recording tape. Magic.

      Elvis’s piano, still in Studio B and still being used today

    • It’s Only Rock & Roll (But I Like It)

      The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame is located in Cleveland, Ohio. As a music fan I’ve wanted to check this out for years, but I was rarely in Cleveland and when I was the HOF was inconveniently closed. It seems the HOF keeps banker’s hours, which is ironic given the lifestyles of the inductees. But there was hope: Wednesday’s they stay open until 9 PM, making it possible to visit for people who have day jobs!

      I stayed in a hotel downtown and walked down to the HOF. Cold wind off the lake reminded me of where I was and I zipped the last inch of collar up. As you walk closer rock music is playing on stacks of speakers that serve as sculpture while doubling as a magnet for something more. As you get closer the glass pyramid of the HOF rises up before you out of a sea of concrete. Big, bold red letters beg, Long Live Rock and I know I’ve arrived.

      Inside, you’re met by greeters who direct you down to the lowest level, the base of the pyramid, to purchase a ticket and dive right in. And suddenly you’re in it. The base is the foundation, and you see the blues and country artists who built rock & roll, but also the cities that played such a huge part in its spread and growth. Motown, Philadelphia, San Francisco, Liverpool… and yes, Cleveland. The museum is immersive, and you can spend a lot of time in each section or breeze through it. The experience is there for you if you want it.

      If you’ve been to a Hard Rock Café you’ve experienced a bit of the HOF’s vibe. Music plays as you look at a guitar that John Lennon played, or Eric Clapton played… or Jimi Hendrix played. There are plenty of musical instruments on display and I found them interesting, but the magic was in the outfits they wore, and the videos of the artists explaining how they created a song or rif while you’re looking at the instrument they created it on right in front of you. If most artists were smaller than you’d expect, Jimi Hendrix was a big dude. His outfits indicate his size, and you know he must have been even more powerful live onstage than the old videos show.

      As you climb the pyramid there are places to play instruments, places to reflect on the names of the inductees, and hidden surprises as you work your way up the pyramid. So what’s at the top? More rock & roll, more instruments and a surprising amount of elbow room. Sure, it was a Wednesday night in January, not a time you’d expect throngs of Rock & roll fans to pour into the Hall of Fame, but a lot more room to wander than I expected.

      One thing that didn’t surprise me; the exit leads you right through the gift shop. But what a gift shop! It was sprawling, featuring the usual assortment of clothing, collectibles and shot glasses, and something more, an actual record store where you could buy vinyl records or compact disks. And that’s where it all began for me back as a kid, sifting through records, looking at the covers and wondering what magic was inside. That’s the rock and roll experience that started it for me, and the experience that capped off my visit to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

    • Coffeehouse Self

      The commute started early this morning, with an early meeting conspiring with noise in my head about getting on the other side of the rush hour traffic that would surely build with every minute. Nothing stresses my commuter self more than being late for an appointment with miles of traffic ahead of me. I don’t like commuter self all that much, and avoid his company when I can.

      Traffic going into Boston is a wonder, but not wonderful; starting much earlier than you’d think possible, lingers past when you’d expect it to end, then reverses direction almost immediately to wreak havoc on your soul when you head home. You either skate your lane, distract yourself with music and podcasts or you let it get to you. I’ve gotten better at letting it go, but it’s a weakness in my character and I feel commuter self creep back into the car more than I’d like. So I play the active avoidance game when I can, and podcast the heck out of the worst of it. I once turned down a great job with a big promotion and raise because I didn’t want to crush my soul with the two hour 40 mile commute. I don’t regret the decision.

      This morning I time-travelled to Boston, found a café and sit writing this blog while others are stop-and-going on the highways I just left. Coffeehouse music is playing, counteracting the effect of the caffeine and the adrenaline of hundreds of cars and trucks I spent the last hour with. My coffee sits steaming on a distressed wood table and The Lumineers and Jason Mraz are playing just loud enough that I can barely hear the diesel engines and honking horns out there. The regulars talk amongst themselves but the place is still full of empty. There was no logical reason to leave as early as I did, with 90 minutes of time to spare. But I like the company of coffeehouse self more than commuter self, and that was enough for me.

    • A Decade Of Music

      The last ten years have flown by (as decades tend to do), and looking back on the music that made the biggest impact on me from 2010 to 2019 is certainly challenging.  If there was a theme to the last decade for me, it was travel to faraway places.  And  when you travel you need a great soundtrack.  Here are ten songs that made my decade of long drives, flights and walks a lot better:

      Dawes – When My Time Comes
      Wilco – You And I
      Head And The Heart – Down in the Valley
      Jason Mraz – 93 Million Miles
      The Avett Brothers – No Hard Feelings
      Bruce Springsteen – Land of Hope and Dreams
      U2 – The Little Things That Give You Away
      Arcade Fire – The Suburbs
      Lord Huron – Ends of the Earth
      Muse – Madness

      A nod to The Lumineers, Michael Kiwanuka, Adele, Half.Alive, Twenty One Pilots, Cold War Kids, Portugal, the Man, The Zac Brown Band, Ray Lamontagne and Blind Pilot.  In a different mood I might have chosen a song by any of you.  But that’s music for you.

    • Season’s Greetings

      “And so this is Christmas
      And what have we done
      Another year over
      A new one just begun”
      – John Lennon, Happy Xmas (War Is Over)

      Lennon always breaks through the crush of Christmas songs this time of year, challenging and reminding me that yes, another year is indeed over and what have you done?  And in 2019 it turns out I’ve done a lot, but we humans are never really satisfied are we?  So much left to do, and 2020 is just around the corner.  But today I’ll pause and reflect and be grateful.  Peace be with you.