Groundbreakers

Hey, Rolling Stone!  What’s with these lists delivered as advertisements?

You need to work at Rolling Stone’s 40 Most Groundbreaking Albums of All Time to get to the detail, but it’s more or less worth it.  Probably.

Well, Kanye West should pleased to be included on a list featuring Woody Guthrie and Frank Sinatra.

And Perrey and Kingsley – whoever they were - should be mighty proud to be on a list that includes Bob Dylan, Ray Charles and Dave Brubeck.

Are we surprised to see pioneers like Nirvana, The Ramones, The Allman Brothers, Paul Butterfield or James Brown on such a list?  Of course not.  Or masters such as Michael Jackson, Marvin Gaye or Carole King?  Nope.

Nor, though I’ll never understand it, can we be surprised to see The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds, The Velvet Underground’s Nico, The Mothers of Invention, or Sabbath.

This couldn’t have been an easy list to assemble.  It covers every major music genre over seven decades.  And I know I’m just a rabid fan, which in no way qualifies me as an expert, but I do wonder why there are so many entries on the list that I have never heard of.  I mean, I have been paying attention and all.  And while it’s nice to see The Beatles with two entries, how can such a list omit Elvis, Buddy Holly or Chuck Berry?  I’m just sayin’.

Zombie Apocalypse Music

Of all the musical genres out there, the one that scares me the most is the one they call singer-songwriter.  Some earnest cat with a guitar telling you about his sad luck, or complaining about what’s wrong with the world.  Downer stuff, man.  Run away and hide.  We’re all doomed.

Wait a minute!  Wikipedia says singer-songwriter just means musicians who write, compose and perform their own music – in the finest folk tradition.  Leadbellly, Woody, Dylan – guys like that.  That’s cool, right?

And anyway, Buzz, don’t you adore James Taylor and Cat Stevens, and didn’t you enjoy and respect some of those hippy-era guys like Tim Hardin and Bruce Cockburn?

And by the way, Buzz, what the heck do you think most of your music should be called?

OK!  Fine!  Then why do I associate the genre with the likes of Harry Chapin and Jim Croce and Dan Hill, guys whose songs – with all due respect – make me lose my will to live?

Maybe it was that bad voodoo going on in the early seventies, the force that codified, stereotyped and exaggerated everything, the thing that pushed metal into silliness and prog rock into pointlessness and soul into disco and goofy hair.  Maybe it’s just that little bit of singer-songwriter that turns me off.

Anyway, it ought to be the most respected genre, ‘cause it’s got to be the oldest.  Troubadours, bards, poets, Homer and all that.

By the way, I’d respectfully suggest the Wikipedia entry needs a major overhaul.  Maybe Frank Zappa did write, compose and play his own songs, but come on!  Is singer-songwriter really the genre that pops to mind when you hear his name?

Then again, as David Knopfler’s thoughtful article points out, it’s a genre that has defied categorization.

Three Chords and the Truth

All I’ve got is a red guitar, three chords and the truth

All I’ve got is a red guitar, the rest is up to you

The above lyric, inserted into U2’s rendition of Dylan’s All Along the Watchtower, got me thinking about the power of music and art to rise above simple entertainment and get us worked up about serious issues.

OK, I’m as guilty as the next person as far as not wanting to be lectured, and sometimes musicians, actors, etc. can get a bit too full of themselves.  But I’ve never subscribed to the notion that artists should just shut up and perform.  As Neil Young would say, “What?  Just because I’m a singer means I’m not entitled to an opinion?”

Anyway, if art is a reflection of life, how can art not be making a statement?

So here’s to Bono, and Dylan, and Lennon, and Springsteen, and Young, and Woody, and Marley, and all the other cats that have the courage to tell it like it is.

The rest is up to us.

Mission Impossible

Now here’s a list that nicely demonstrates how North American monoculture has shattered into a million fragments.  The Recording Industry Association of America actually compiled a list of the Songs of the Century (20^th).  So it’s gonna reflect a whole bunch of tastes and styles over an entire hundred years.

And be agreed to by … no one, not even the most broad-minded, culturally curious, historically informed I-love-everything kinda person.  Up until about 1970, which incorporates all but two of the songs, you would have got reasonable support for this list, but no more.

The top three are probably hard to argue:

1. Over the Rainbow, Judy Garland

2. White Christmas, Bing Crosby

3. This Land Is Your Land, Woodie Guthrie

After that, it’s hard to keep your personal biases at bay.  Mine kicked in big time.  For example:

- American Pie is #5.  Really?   Ahead of The Beatles, The Stones, Chuck Berry?

- Elvis is missing?

- Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?  Seriously?

I mean, I know they had to include big band, jazz, ragtime, tin pan alley, patriotic songs and all that.  I get it.  But only two country songs?  Only four songs from England?  Tina Turner beats Fats Waller and Hoagy Carmichael?

And, hey!  There is some cheating here:  The West Side Story and The Sound of Music full soundtracks are on a list of songs?

You’ll find your own issues, outrages and mysteries, I’m sure.  Brave people, the RIAA.

Songs From Kill Devil Hills

Have you ever read Old Weird America by Greil Marcus?  It’s ostensibly about Bob Dylan’s Basement Tapes, the sessions, the times, the world around and all that.

Ostensibly.

What it is, really, is the deepest exploration of American – and along with it – Western – culture I have ever read.

This book is deep.  Whole chapters interpreting the meaning of one song, entire groups of chapters explaining how the stories in those songs are universal, how they grew out of real-life experiences and events, and grew until they became legend, about how the legends actually matter more than the facts.

Large sections describing the beauty, the majesty, the viciousness and the shame of everyday life.  Deep insights questioning whether any of the history as we know it is real, at least real in comparison to the passions and follies of men and women – good and bad – sung about in the folk and blues of rural America.

And that music is what informs just about all the music you listen to, so whether or not you give a damn about Doc Boggs and Woody Guthrie and Leadbelly and Robert Johnson – or Bob Dylan or Led Zeppelin – that music is important.

I quickly lost count of the insights, epiphanies and “a-ha’s.”  Rock history, sociology, anthropology, musicology … this book is deep.

A Big Deal

This is not, repeat not a political statement:  FDR’s New Deal was the best thing that ever happened to music.

Stay with me.  Without the New Deal’s “make work” projects, Alan Lomax would not have been sent out to collect folk music.  If Alan Lomax hadn’t done that, we might never have heard of Son House, Robert Johnson, Lead Belly, Doc Boggs, Big Bill Broonzy and Skip James.  Woody Guthrie might be an interesting footnote.

If the folk music, white and black, of the south had not been captured and exposed to a broader audience, the Chicago Blues as we know it might never have come into being, “race music” and rhythm and blues might never have been noticed by white kids.  There might never have been a folk revival in the 50’s.

No delta blues?  Nothing in Chicago?  No folk revival?  No:

Beatles

Rolling Stones

Bob Dylan

Led Zeppelin

Cream

Animals

Shall I go on?

Elvis, Chuck Berry, Carl Perkins…  life, and culture, as we know it would simply not exist.

I can’t imagine a better use of government money.  Big Bird might just agree.

Trinities and Triangles

I started playing this game in my head:  name three guitarists, then start exploring how they defined your musical world.

Take Robert Johnson, Jimi Hendrix and Eric Clapton:

How did they define musical boundaries?  Well, how about roots (Johnson is the source), astonishment (as only Hendrix) and musicianship (Clapton exactly right)?

What about connections?  Let’s see: there’s a direct line from Johnson to Hendrix (how did he come up with that?), a link between Johnson and Clapton (that’s perfect for the song), and an eternal contention for supremacy between Hendrix and Clapton in the OMG department.

How about John Lennon, Keith Richards and Jimmy Page?  Boundaries set by genres (Rockabilly, Blues and Celtic-Indo-European-something-or-other Folk?).  Strong connections on riffs, riffs, riffs?

How about Woody Guthrie, Son House and James Taylor?

How do just three names sum up what appeals to you, where your boundaries are, what styles you dig, how you play, what you aspire to?  How do they differ?  How are they similar?

It’s a fun game.  Try it.

Last of the Brooklyn Cowboys

I saw Arlo Guthrie in concert a while back.  What a treat.

He is still a hippy.  Self-deprecating, but not apologetic.  Sincere, but not cynical.  Kind of like, “ya I guess we were kinda naïve, but we were on the right track, don’t you think?”

It can’t be easy being Arlo Guthrie.  A legendary father, a luminous host of friends and mentors.  A past he can’t walk away from, even as he moves steadily forward.

Well, he did a fine job.  Great tunes, funny stories, honesty and integrity all wrapped up in a real nice vibe.

Attaboy, Arlo.  Keep chasing that happy feeling all over the world.