And The Light Shines

Just a post script to the last post...

Earlier I wrote that it's a bit sad to watch an aging rocker, that it's a young person's game.

I sometimes thought that we went to see people like The Stones to see if they might die onstage, kind of like going to a NASCAR race to see the crashes.

No longer.

There's a segment in Shine A Light where someone is interviewing a young Mick Jagger and asks him if he can see himself doing this when he's sixty.

"Absolutely!" says Mick.

And he proved himself right.

They're doing it because they love doing it.  The joy is just as fresh as when they were kids.  Our morbid reactions are our own problem.

Rock on, boys.

The Light Bulb Goes On

I watched the Scorsese Stones video a while back - not for the first time - and finally got it.

The Rolling Stones are not (were not?) the world's greatest rock and roll band, they are (were?) the world's greatest jam band.  While other performers strive for Las Vegas type precision - and predictability - they just get up there and play.

While other artists let their minds go numb with the same set list every performance, the Stones change theirs every night. 

And they don't stop there.  They keep changing the songs, finding new ways to keep things fresh and interesting for them - which of course keeps it interesting for us.  When the concert started, it took me a few seconds to realize I was listening to Jumping Jack Flash.  Even though it still retained one of the most recognizable hooks in the history of rock, it sounded completely different.

Sure, they've got a lot of tricks, gimmicks and effects to put on a competitive show - but the real magic emanates from the indisputable fact that these guys love what they're doing.

I've always been a fan, but I always found the sound a bit chaotic, haphazard, even sloppy.  At various times, I'd convinced myself drugs, poor musicianship and bad taste were to blame.

But there is no blame.  It's deliberate.  They just like jamming.  They get off on the ever-present danger of "where am I?" and "what chord is that?"

Keith was bang on when he said of himself and Ronnie Wood, "we're both lousy, but together we're better than ten others."  The years of jamming allow them to effortlessly and seemlessly work themselves back and forth as they trade who is playing lead and who is playing rhythm - sometimes within the same bar.  They give no thought and show no fear as they both wander off into a solo, lose themselves momentarily, then snap back to a driving beat.

Chaotic?  You bet.  Unpredictable?  Yep.  Haphazard?  By definition.

And magical.

Make Me Smile

Song writing was easy for John Lennon, who famously said, "Just say what it is, simple English, make it rhyme, and put a backbeat on it."

He might have also added, "A bit of a sense of humour always helps too."

It's not universally so, but I find many of my favourite songs don't take themselves too seriously, even when they are expressing anger, pain and fear.

One of the masters of this was Warren Zevon.  Just a few random samples:

Put me through some changes, Lord
Sort of like a Waring Blender

Send lawyers, guns and money
Dad, get me out of this

Accidently like a martyr
The hurt gets worse and the heart gets harder

Zevon must have studied Shakespeare, because he was a master at comic relief.  Dark situations all, but he gives you an out.  He's not taking it seriously, so you don't have to either.

On the other hand, if you identify with the pain, go ahead and feel lousy.

Your call:  rock on or crap out.  Backbeats, rhymes - and user choice.  Cool.

Let's Make Nice

Are there any nice lyrics out there?  Anyone not angry, depressed or who-gives-a-damn selfish?

Music is an art and art, should make you feel so any emotion is valid, but do you have to tune in country station to hear something positive or uplifting?

Or does "let's party" pass for positive these days?

Take Rude Boy by Rihanna, for example:
Come on rude boy, boy
can you get it up
Come here rude boy, boy
Is you big enough

Well, it's not negative.  And I guess its main virtue is that it's direct.  Not every song has to be deep poetry filled with metaphor, but is there any emotion involved here?  I suppose it serves for some fun gesturing on the dance floor, but then what?

In contrast, take Happiness Runs by Donovan:
Happiness runs in a circular motion
Thought is like a little boat upon the sea
Everybody is a part of everything anyway
You can have everything if you let yourself be

Now, I haven't got a clue what it means, but it makes me feel positive, optimistic, nice.

Nice is good for a change, isn't it?

Turn it down ... and listen!

Are we trying to make ourselves deaf?

I was at a wedding a while back and the noise level was just stupid.  It rivalled a rock concert.  It beat a construction site.  It dwarfed an airport.  What are we doing to ourselves?

It was a large wedding, so amplification was definitely necessary.  But the emcee shrieked into a microphone connected to an amplifier set to 11.  Every time he spoke, people literally cringed and curled up into the foetal position.  I'm not exaggerating.

The music during dinner rendered conversation impossible.  After dinner it got worse.  Not only was the volume jacked even higher, a live (and mic'd) drummer thumped along with the music - just in case your internal organs weren't following the beat already.  I didn't need to dance.  Most of me was already bouncing around.

Throughout the evening, as we progressed through the various little rituals, the emcee continually exhorted us to MAKE SOME NOISE.  Applause was apparently insufficient; we were expected to whoop and bark like we were at a sporting event.

Speaking of sports events, I'm about ready to give up on baseball and hockey because of the relentless, painful assault through the PA system.  I suppose if I want to talk to my friends I could text them, but then I might as well stay home where I don't have to drink my beer out of a plastic cup - and where the food is better.

Speaking of food, the decibel level is not much better in restaurants.  They seem to be mistaking themselves for nightclubs these days.  Even grocery stores are playing loud rock music for goodness sake.  In my neighbourhood, that one's a complete mystery, since most of the shoppers are of an age where they are likely to prefer Tony Bennett over Nickelback.

Listen:  I like rock music.  I play rock music.  I like my music loud.  But I want to hear it.  I want to get inside it with my brain and feel it with my heart, not feel it with my insides as the vibrations pass through me.

I want to listen to music.  Turn it down so I can hear it!

Focus (no hocus pocus)

In his book Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell explains that people who reach the top of their game - be they hockey players, musicians or scientists - spend about 10,000 hours getting there.

10,000 hours.  That's a lot.

So, the other day, I was explaining my own background to someone, and something like this came out:  "Well, in 1975 I was studying classical guitar at the Royal Conservatory of Music, playing folk stuff for enjoyment, but listening to prog rock." 

Yikes.  Not much focus there.  I'm studying Bach, playing Cat Stevens, and listening to Jethro Tull.

Oh, and I'm finishing my degree at night and trying to get kick-start my career in a large multi-national.

I mean, 10 out of 10 for energy, and 9 out of 10 for variety, but minus 20 out of 10 for the obsessive focus that actually gets you somewhere.

Sheesh, Gladwell!  Why didn't you write this book in 1972, when I thought it was all about magic, and had nothing to do with hard work?

Hmmm ...  maybe that's why I keeping trying to pretend I'm only 18.

Cover ... Tribute ... Exploit?

A while ago I went to see one of those Classic Albums Live shows.  You know, the ones that are advertised as "note for note, cut for cut".

The schtick for these shows is that they are not a tribute band.  No lookalikes.  No dress up.  No picture show.  Just a collection of good musicians recreating an album in its entirety.  Quite a challenge when you're trying to recreate the work of studio wizards like Pink Floyd (which is what I saw).

Anyway, it was well done.  They did a good job, and it was interesting to watch as you're thinking, "How are they going to do this?" and so on.

I have to say I enjoyed it, but the whole experience was more than a little unsettling.  It was like I was watching a tribute band.  Like I was cheating.  I felt a little guilty somehow, and couldn't feel fully satisfied.  This is the way I feel when I see a tribute band.

Don't get me wrong, I admire the musicians who can do this sort of thing.  I mean, I have the tab, and I've played Hideaway about three million times, and I'll never get it to sound like Eric Clapton.  So it's impressive.  But it just feels wrong, somehow.

It's all rather creepy.

Like, what is going on exactly?  You know you're not getting the real deal, but somehow you're supposed to behave like you are, or pretend that you are?  Are we exploiting the band's ability to copy, or are they exploiting our need to feel/remember/simulate/fantasize about the real thing?

A credible cover of a great song?  Absolutely!

A recreation or simulation of an experience or memory?  Feels weird.  Enjoyable, but ...

And don't even think about the new breed of lame "musicals" that string together a bunch of pop/rock songs with a feeble excuse for a plot.  That's a whole other level of sickness.

Favourite Albums - Part 2

Here's the rest of the list:

Jimi Hendrix - Are You Experienced?  Easy and tough at the same time.

John Lee Hooker - The Best of Friends.  See B.B. King.

The Kinks - Misfits.  Another tough call.

Led Zeppelin - Physical Graffiti.  I can explain: it has one of everything.  OK then, Led Zeppelin I.

Linda Ronstadt - Simple Dreams.  No, it's not the cover.  Really.

Metallica - Metallica.  Nothing else matters.

Neil Young - Rust Never Sleeps.  Sorry Goldrush fans.  Anyway, you didn't expect Trans, did you?

Oasis - (What's the Story) Morning Glory.  Or any other one.

The Police - yes.

Queen - Flash Gordon.  Just kidding.

Rod Stewart - Every Picture tells A Story.  I wish he'd stopped there.

The Rolling Stones - who knows?  Not Satanic Majesty, anyway.

Steve Miller - Fly Like An Eagle.  Not as easy as I thought.

The Tea Party - Splendor Solis.  Another tough one.

Tom Petty - impossible.

Tragically Hip - Road Apples.  'Little Bones' carries that one.

ZZ Top - Tres Hombres.  Natch.

Anyone else?  Guess it's Greatest Hits.

Favourite Albums - Part 1

I stumbled across a Beatles forum a while ago,and the burning question under discussion was, "What's your favourite Beatles album?"  Like it's possible to decide, or consensus could be achieved.  So I typed "the last one I heard" and moved on.

But like a bad TV commercial, the idea wouldn't go out of my head.  So, against my better judgement, here is my list of favourite albums (excluding the Greatest Hits, since that would be cheating).

AC/DC - Back In Black.  Easy.

The Band - Music From Big Pink.  They could have stopped there.

The Beatles - yes.

Bonnie Raitt - Luck of the Draw.  Tough call.

B.B. King - Deuces Wild.  I know it's cheating, but you get his greatest hits repackaged with some great guest artists.

The Cars - A tie.  The Cars and Candy O.

Cat Stevens - Another tie.  Tea for the Tillerman and Teaser and the Firecat.

Colin James - National Steel.  More acoustic and less big band, please.

Cream - Wheels of Fire.  'cause it has two discs.

The Cult - Electric.  In case you care.

Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here.  Maybe it's the cover.

Deep Purple - Another tie.  Shades of ...  and Fireball.  Not Machine Head, not that I don't like that.

Dire Straits - yes.

Elvis Costello - My Aim Is True.  It was.

Eric Clapton - Crossroads.  OK, that's cheating.  So From the Cradle.  No wait!  Me and Mr. Johnson.  Wait!  ...

The Guess Who - Share the Land.  Just to be contrary.

James Taylor - Sweet Baby James.  Unsurpassable.

Jeff Beck - nope

Jethro Tull - Mood dependent, but let's say Stand Up.

More later.

Pretty ... Raunchy

Every so often, I re-discover Linda Ronstadt.  She's one of those artists/bands that you forget about, and then say to yourself, "I forgot!  I should listen to this more often."

And then you don't, but I wish I did.

What a voice.  Heart-piercingly pretty, eye-wateringly beautiful, kick-ass raunchy.

And what range.  She was part of the countrified folk-rock movement that shifted American music's centre of gravity from San Francisco to Los Angeles in the late 60's and early 70's.  Then she rode the punk/new wave thing with a string of great records.  Then broadway, and operetta of all things.  Then easy listening, mariachi, lullabies  ... it doesn't stop.  I guess she figured out how to grow older gracefully.

But it's those late 70's rockers that I really love.  Fabulous singing, terrific production from Peter Asher, tasty guitar playing from Waddy Wachtel  ...  perfect.

And an awesome collection of covers:  Buddy Holly, Chuck Berry, Roy Orbison, The Stones, Neil Young, Mowtown, Elvis Costello, Warren Zevon.  Each one true.  Each one fresh.

I don't know who else is in the band, but when I go to that bar my first Saturday night in Heaven, I expect Linda Ronstadt to be the singer.