Stay of Execution

Don't Go Back To Rockville

I woke up this morning with that old REM song, "Talk About The Passion" in my head.  In response, I borrowed Eponymous from a friend, and I've been listening to it.  It's the end of the world as we know It.  Take a break, Driver 8.  Don't fall on me.  This one goes out to the one I left behind.  Not everyone can carry the weight of the world. 

Images from high school arrive unbidden in my head.   

How The iPod Is Changing My Life, Part 1

One thing about the iPod that I like is that I can listen to my music library alphabetically.  This is more interesting than 'shuffle' to me, somehow, although it's mostly the same effect.  One difference is that I can hear originals and covers of a song back to back, which I find makes me notice each version more than I otherwise might.  But because that happens pretty rarely, it's not gimmicky. 

The alphabetical and shuffle feature highlight some selections that I rarely listen to.  One unintended consequence: a number of teachings by Pema Chodron are somehow not labeled as an audiobook, but rather are intermingled with my music.  So I'll be grooving along and then all the sudden there's Pema, talking to me, reminding me to open my tender heart, not to harden myself against the pain of the world.  She is gentle and humble and funny and sincere for about three minutes, which is probably not enough but enough for this beginner mind, and then the iPod serves up James Brown or Johnny Cash or ABBA and I'm in another place, with maybe just maybe a softer heart. 

What I'm Listening To

I've had Raycharles LaMontagne's Trouble in the CD player in my car.  He's a local boy, and I kept meaning to go see him, but didn't do it and now he's hit it big and I may have missed my chance.  In any case, he deserves the attention he's getting.  I like the CD.  It's familiar, and evocative of the Whiskeytown/Ryan Adams sound that I like.  He's like Ryan Adams with a sore throat, a Ryan Adams who's less likely to get drunk and get into a fight, and more likely to get a little tipsy and write you a gentle, melancholy love poem.  One song, "Hannah," sounds like a cover of something I've heard, although the song that it feels like it duplicates is flickering there on the edge of my memory, and I can't recover it.  It's a good song, as are many of the others. 

What's interesting is that I recognize Ray as a big talent, and his sound hits right in my sweet spot, and I'm enjoying this CD a lot.  But I'm not reacting as strongly as when I discovered Whiskeytown and Ryan Adams and that crowd.  It's not the kind of delight and fascination as when I got to know the Old 97s.  I can't tell if I'm just less inclined to get excited about music right now or if there's some kind of novelty missing.  This guy belongs in my music collection, and will get a lot of play.  But it's like he's always been there. 

Save It For A Rainy Day

I tried to go to a chick flick last night, but got the times wrong and drove to the wrong theater.  So instead I went to the record store and bought myself a Jayhawks album that I hadn't known existed, and the Ray Lamontagne album my friend R has been raving about.   

I strolled upstairs to the bookstore and got a long look and a smile from the guy who I see there from time to time, who I've smiled at but never spoken to.  I wonder what his deal is.  He brings his computer there.  Is he writing?  Doing work?  Sometimes he's just there reading.  He always looks up, though, from whatever he's doing, so we've smiled at one another a dozen times or so.  I smiled back, and wandered around the bookshelves.  I found a book of new Ray Carver stories and essays.  I remember in college when I finished all the Ray Carver stories that had been published and felt dejected that there was nothing still to read.  I bought it and a hot chocolate and drifted over to examine the flyers on the bulletin board. 

The other bookstore guy, the cute young one, came over to me and complimented my pants.  "They're cool," he told me.  This bookstore is a gathering place for hipsters; I've never felt even remotely cool there.  "Oh.  Thanks.  You think so?"  I looked down at them, under my very uncool green raincoat, and over my very uncool shoes. "They're pink," I said.  He nodded.  He pointed to the book and told me there was a really good essay in there, "On Writing."  We talked about books for a few minutes, how neither of us had read Melville.   I said, 'You're a writer, aren't you?'  He said, "Kind of, I guess."  I told him, "You don't need to say it that way.  Just say 'yes.' "  He gave me a big smile, and I left. 

I got into the car and pushed the Jayhawks CD in.  I sipped my hot chocolate and took a long rainy drive around the backroads of my childhood, singing along with the Jayhawks and watching the landscape go by.  I thought about how good sweet sad wistful music can make me feel.  I sang and drove for almost an hour, down dark country roads, past apple orchards and over rivers, past shopping centers that I remember as empty fields.  The wet pavement was sprinkled with fallen leaves.  I got home and curled into bed with Ray Carver, an old friend indeed.   

I Feel Like Dancing

My bride friend is trying to come up with a playlist for the wedding, and asked for suggestions of dance music.  I made a list of the songs that in my experience will get most people out on the dance floor. Here's what I sent her (in no particular order, except as they occured to me):

Question for Listeners

I am interested in expanding my knowledge about classical music.  I grew up listening to some Mozart (including some opera), Vivaldi, Dvorak, a little Greig and Handel.  My music collection contains a CD of each of these, plus Sibelius' Karelia Suite, Beethoven's piano sonatas and Yo Yo Ma playing Bach.   Oh yes, and of course Rimsky-Korsakov.   I am essentially ignorant. 

I am particularly curious about Chopin and Bach, but haven't a clue where to begin, or who else should have my attention.  Where should I start? 

Request Day: Summer Songs

Amy asks me to post about my favorite summer song, and why.  It's a funny question, as I'd never thought about songs as summer or not. 

I choose the following two songs: Wayside/Back In Time by Gillian Welch, from the album Soul Journey.  That one I choose because of the pacing.  It sounds like summer to me: languid, but upbeat.  There's a line too about "peaches in the summertime / apples in the fall" that is evocative of summer to me.  The lyrics are depressing but the pace of the song doesn't make it feel that way. 

And because I felt like that was a bad answer, here's a song with summer lyrics: CSN's Southern Cross.  I love the starlight and the water and the eighty feet of waterline, nicely making way.  I have my ship, and all her flags are a-flyin'.  She is all that I have left and music is her name....

What I'm Listening To

I've been listening to The Old Ceremony, a band headed by my college classmate Django Haskins.  I didn't know Django as an undergraduate, but talked to him a bit at my reunion.  He struck me as smart, and interesting, and so I had pretty high expectations of the CD. 

It's very good.  I've been thinking about how to describe it and wishing I had a vocabulary for talking about music that is much better than what I actually have.  It's swingy and lounge-y music, making good use of a whole lot of instruments -- horns, fiddle, piano, accordion .  It's cool, both in the generic "I approve of this" sense and in the "cool as a cucumber" sense.  On their website I see the adjectives "pop noir" and "cabaret" and "chamber pop" used by various reviewers to describe their sound.  Those aren't terribly evocative to me, but maybe they are to you.   "Moody" and "eclectic" and "a card-shark's finesse" are even better. 

The 'card shark's finesse' captures the kind of cool I am struck by the most.  It's the smooth perfection of an Ocean's 11 heist.  Supertight musicians who are worldly and unruffled.  Although the music doesn't have the same sound, there's something about this that reminds me of Steely Dan: a kind of dispassionate skill, a precision crafting of complex and interesting songs.   Any emotion is tightly contained.  Lyrics have a detached edge to them.  Soundwise, the songs are more closely related to Andrew Bird's Bowl of Fire, or perhaps Neko Case, than to anything else in my library. 

And I like the CD very much.  I keep getting the tunes stuck in my head, keep changing my mind about which one I like best, keep noticing new things to like in each song.  But the composure and the precision cause me to keep a little something back from my admiration.  I realize that I respond to a ragged edge in music, a touch of looseness, maybe even the slightest bit of unraveling.  The catch in the singer's voice, a blurring around the edges of the notes, a hint of recklessness.  I'd give up a little bit in the musical perfection department to get a little bit more of something -- vulnerability, maybe?  That's not what these guys are about.  The comparison to Ocean's Eleven feels good.  It's about precision, and keeping cool. 

In any event, I still rate the CD a strong buy.  You can download some of the songs at the band's website to give them a try....

He's Always Right

Well, maybe he's not always right.  But he's often right.  And Outer Life is right on the money about listening to music, and maybe some other things too.   

Cheating At An Unscored Game

Tom Mighell passed along the music meme to me.  I don't usually take on these Internet propagated question games, but he caught me in an accomodating mood.  I will, however, be cheating a bit, because I don't know some of the answers, and I don't like some of the questions. 

The questions are:
1) What is the total volume of music you own?
2) What's the last CD you bought?
3) What song is playing right now?
4) What 5 songs do I listen to a lot?
5) What 5 people will I pose these questions to?

The answers (or revisions to the questions) are: