11 posts tagged “music”

It's not often that I look forward to an album release so much that I intend to rush out on its release date and buy it. However, being of the opinion that Jack White can do little to no wrong, the upcoming release of his latest faction--"Horehound" by The Dead Weather--this Tuesday has had me all atwitter for over a month now.

Friday, I made one of my tri-yearly pilgrimages to the mall (which I abhor). Our local music store allows CD trades for store credit, and as music has become more and more digitally oriented, I find this to be rather brilliant--I can buy those few albums that I can't find for download (I'm anti-iTunes, but that's another rant for another time), rip them, and then trade them. While I may only end up with $20 worth of store credit for five CDs, hey--that's 20 bucks off some new tunage.

But I digress. I wandered around this FYE for a good 30 minutes, unable to find anything I wanted. I wasn't all that jazzed about seeing a new live Nightwish release since I haven't listened to any track samples, I have damn near every Tom Waits album ever recorded, they didn't have the frapping Easy Rider soundtrack (which I have on vinyl, but seriously, WTF?), they only had one Kamelot album that I already own, they didn't have the one Dwight Yoakam album I give a damn about owning, they did have Volume II of the Duane Allman anthology--for about $15 more than it was on Amazon.com...I mean, I was just screwed.

The manager who works there--who never remembers my name, which doesn't bother me because I don't remember his, either--looked a few things up for me with the same response, "Well, we can order it." Dude, no offense, but I can order it my damn self. So I just happened to say, "And The Dead Weather album is released on Tuesday, right?"

His response literally made me do a happy dance: "Yeah, but I'll sell it to you now."

Thank you, Karma, for allowing me to rock out all weekend to a not-yet-released album. :)

So...where to begin. Music has long been and will always be the driving force behind my soul, behind who I am. When I'm happy, when I'm sad, when I'm hurting, when I'm confused, when I don't know which way to turn...music is always there, and it never fails me.

I found out tonight that a dude I went to high school (or maybe jr. high?) with won a Grammy for some songwriting stuff. As a person with music in her soul, as a writer of songs, as a writer in general, I was thrilled beyond words for him, and I've spoken to this guy maybe twice in ten years. It was just proof that following your dreams will never lead you astray, and it was something I needed to be reminded of right now.

Watching the Grammys for me is a mix of disgust and hope...the fact that the Alison Krauss/Robert Plant album "Raising Sand" keeps winning gives me hope...some of the pop stuff, not so much. But dude, if it moves you...if it makes you feel...if it brings your life into perspective, if it feels like someone has reached inside of you and stirred your viscera around and left you feeling affected, changed, amazed, validated...that's what it's all about.

I've written songs about my pain, about my experiences, about my joy, about my confusion, and while every one is precious to me in its own way, I understand that not everyone will relate to every one of them. Some of the greatest highs of my life have been in bars around my hometown, on stage, singing my own songs...and I can't even begin to imagine how it feels to have that recognized on a national level. I don't know if I'm meant to one day get there, but that will never stop me from writing, from singing, from feeling music, from being affected...

...from being who I am. That's what it's all about, baby. It's good for the soul.

I've been telling my hairstylist, Jason, that I'd make him a mixtape. Well...I did...but I have so much music that I had to narrow the focus down to wailing women A through I. And a couple of them are more "warbling" than "wailing" women...but they're cool nonetheless.

I ended up with Beth Hart, Bonnie Raitt, The Be Good Tanyas, Mary Gauthier, Gillian Welch, Brennen Leigh, Hope Waits, Brandi Carlile, and Ida Cox...which technically isn't A through I but iTunes alphebetizes based on first letters. Well...Mary Gauthier is an exception. But whatever.

Good thing I don't have to hunt for medical charts on that basis. I'd go batshit crazy.

The Dreaded Question: "What is Hotel California about?"

I was not prepared for my mother, of all people, to ask me this question yesterday evening. I wanted to scream and run away.

Having been forced through private religious schooling, I grew up hearing everyone insist that it was about hell, satan, devil-worship, witchcraft, and all manner of similarly "evil" things. If you want to know the truth I just think all that was made up by some extremist preacher more concerned with scrutiny than teaching.

I haven't listened to the song in years...haven't looked up the lyrics, but all I could tell her was I'd always interpreted it as being about addiction.

We are all just prisoners here--of our own device...

You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave...

Those two lines, along with the line used for the title of this blog, were the ones that came to mind.

I much prefer contemplating symbols in films and literature, which is strange considering what a music fanatic I am. But as we all know, anything and everything can be used as fodder for blogging.

I've posted this before...but I have to do it again. I love Bonnie Raitt covering this song...and I'm not saying Beth is better, just different. I guess if I had to be specific, Bonnie Raitt's cover is soulful and blue and it just kinda makes you sit back and nod slowly.

Beth's cover, on the other hand...well it kinda sounds like the feeling of being so stuck, so powerless, and in so much pain that it would actually feel good to rip open one's flesh for the sake of showing someone else what's really inside.

It's visceral.

Note: Please add "in my opinion" or a similar disclaimer to the end of every sentence. :)

How can it be bullshit to state a preference? --High Fidelity

At what point does an objective critic cross the line into snobbery, and at what point does one make the leap from snob to asshole?

I had a friend who was an excellent musician, but I often felt that his talent contributed to snobbery which precluded his ability to appreciate anything below a certain intellectual level. I've also known people who were incapable of appreciating anything that was not to their taste.

I don't deny being a snob when it comes to music; however, I like to think I'm objective enough to recognize that something is good even if it isn't particularly suited to my taste. For instance, Eddie Van Halen is one hell of a guitarist. And I enjoy some of what he does. But there are times when I listen to him and want to give him some ritalin and tell him that all those notes aren't contributing to the betterment of his music. Not because I'm a killer guitarist, but because as a listener all those notes create a jumble of sound that isn't quite worth the sum of its parts.

Conversely, there are things I enjoy despite the fact that I'm well aware there isn't a lot of merit behind them. I believe the appropriate phrase for this particular phenomenon is "guilty pleasure." Everyone has those when it comes to music...for instance, lots of music from the 80's (I myself enjoy Tears for Fears and INXS). With cases like this, I find I can't pinpoint exactly what it is I like about them...I only know that I dig it. However, I'm not going to run through the streets naked proclaiming them to be the best bands to ever grace the stage.

So what exactly am I saying here about the line between being a snob and being an asshole? Just that one cannot be constantly told that this or that isn't good without evenutally getting the impression that they're being told they simply don't know any better...that they have no standpoint from which to appreciate or recognize something is good.

And that, my friends, is some bullshit to which I do not subscribe. In the past I've been guilty of eliminating tunes from my music library because someone was telling me that they weren't worth listening to or being impressed by.

I don't do that anymore. Take your snobbery and your snide comments and shove 'em up your ass. I have enough talent and intelligence to determine what has merit and sounds good to me, and what does not.

I need to go shopping. While the prospect of the mall makes me want to vomit...or maybe just dry heave...there are tunes I must have.

I need Raising Sand--the album Alison Krauss and Robert Plant just released. I was listening to samples the other day and diggin' it, but when I heard the cover of Townes Van Zandt's "Nothin'" I damn near fell out. When Townes sang it, it came through in his fashion--honest, real, simple and true. When I heard Lucinda Williams cover it on the album Poet: A Tribute to Townes Van Zandt, it came through raw, lost, and painful. Plant's cover, however, accompanied by Alison's fiddle and combined with balls-out guitar...it's gut wrenching. And awesome. It blew my mind...and I'm particularly judgemental towards Townes covers.

I need some other stuff, too...some Black Keys and some Steve Goodman (if I can find the album I want). I'll have to check my Amazon wishlist and recommendations for further ideas.

For nigh on ten years I've had the privilege of being acquainted with a lady who recently answered the question, "What is the sound of one hand clapping?"

When I think of Zen, I simply think of the concept of being without consciousness of worry. Many more technical definitions of the word exist, of course...but above all, it's always struck me as the state of peace one attains when engaged in an activity that causes the daily stresses and hardships of the world to gently fall away--they melt into oblivion as one achieves a state of being devoid of worry, of stress, and of all the various nagging difficulties that we encounter in our day-to-day lives that tend to bog us down in stress and strain.

A dark-haired, dark-eyed gal steeped in Old Tyme tradition and music by the name of Valley showed me what this amazing phenomenon looks like. In fact, in reflecting on the times I've seen her in years past, she's always been an example of Southern hospitality and how tranquil life can be when one takes the time to enjoy the simple pleasures life has to offer.

Although I can't recall the first time I met her, the first memory of her that comes to mind was on a cold winter night in Belhaven on someone's screened-in front porch. In fact, it seems this might have been the first porch-pickin' I'd ever attended. I don't remember her having an instrument back then, though that never stopped her from being involved in the music. I seem to recall Valley sitting on a couch out on that old front porch swaddled in a heavy coat and blankets, hands protected by soft-looking gloves, and resting in those hands was a considerably depleted bottle of Jim Beam whiskey. What stands out in my memory, however, has nothing to do with her drinking the liquor; rather, she took that bottle and blew across the top of it, creating a makeshift jug to add to the cacophony of guitars, banjos, mandolins, fiddles, voices, and upright bass.  

It just so happened that when I moved to Asheville, Valley had arrived there ahead of me. When I was there searching for a job and a place to live not long before the move, Valley graciously offered up her guest room and made certain to involve me in the pickin' festivities--a tradition that she's always carried with her wherever she kicks off her boots in the evening. I remember her house as being warm and inviting; I remember old, dark wood and the smell of freshly brewed coffee and juevos rancheros cooking early in the morning.

I wonder, though, if the most welcoming aspect of the house was simply her presence there. Upon arrival in her front yard, she walked out to meet me and I received her trademark welcome: a smile, a hug, and a peck on the cheek. No matter where that greeting takes place, it's always apt to make one feel as though they're being welcomed home, no matter how far away the place one calls "home" may be.

Not long ago I heard on the wind that she and her friends had put together a bluegrass band and were playing in a restaurant I've been a patron of for quite some time--back in the place we both originally called home. I eagerly went out to see them, though I didn't quite know what to expect, as through the years I've heard Valley with a song, a guitar, a fiddle and a banjo. To see her with an upright bass--something near and dear to my heart for some time now--brought about the answer to my earlier question: "What is the sound of one hand clapping?"

That, my friends, is simple. It's the sound and look of a lady free of troubles from the outside world playing an upright bass. The look of peace and contentment on her face that night as she stood with her husband and friends and swayed with the music they made was unlike anything I can recall seeing in years--if not in my entire life.

Music has long been the one force that can truly soothe my soul. Whether I'm making it or taking it in, it engulfs everything that could possibly be bothering me and sweeps it away, replacing it with a feeling of well-being unlike anything ever has. Through troubles and tribulations, it's the one tried and true spell that can be cast over me to bring me back to a place of peace and harmony--pun most definitely intended. But as much as it soothes me, I count myself fortunate to be among the crowds who have seen Valley take in that music and simply be in that place where no darkness can reach.

What's your musical horoscope?  (Put your player on shuffle and write down the first 10 songs that come up.) 

1. "I'll Stay With You"--Beth Hart
2. "Four Winds"--Bright Eyes
3. "Recovering the Satellites"--Counting Crows
4. "Breathless"--Better Than Ezra
5. "Mixtape"--Butch Walker
6. "Stand Back"--Stevie Nicks
7. "Lift (With Love We Can Survive"--Flickerstick
8. "Don't Move"--Buch Walker
9. "Innocent"--Our Lady Peace
10. "Chasing Cars"--Snow Patrol

Audio/Video: Share a great use of a song in a commercial.

How about a rockstar instead of a song?