Bowie, at Long Last

It's been over three years since my last post on this blog.  This is partially the fault of my on-again, off-again relationship with social media.  Another reason is the birth of Ramona and the work of being a new parent.  To say a lot has happened is a bit of an understatement.  I regret not being able to blog about music, especially in the context of 2016, a year in which we lost so many people.

Losing Lemmy Kilmister in December 2015 was like a prequel.  I watched the live streaming of his funeral (something I would never ordinarily do) because he was a fascinating, complex person, and just about everything he did was over the top in some extraordinary way, including his death.  Losing a musician is like losing a member of the family, especially if you've grown up with that person's art around you.

When Bowie's "The Next Day" came out back in 2013, I didn't pay much attention until Henry Rollins mentioned how great it was in an amusing article that was mostly about how shitty music has become.  I picked it up and, after listening to it, my heart dropped.  Something was seriously dark about the tone, and I knew something really wrong was going on with Bowie.

The cover should have been a dead giveaway.  Not only is '"Heroes"' in strikethrough (something he did with other albums, such as "Heathen"), but he gives us the entire album '"Heroes"' with a big white square over his face.  It tells us he is not just reflecting on the past, but the next day is upon us, and maybe things aren't going to go in the direction we'd like them to go (more on '"Heroes"' later).  Songs such as "Valentine's Day" and "I'd Rather Be High" are deeply political and topically relevant, but when I heard "If You Can See Me," I knew there was some clever wordplay going on...is he going to meet a lover, or his oncologist?  Maybe a bit of both.  Everything he did, as it turns out, had so many more layers to it, even when we were already looking at layers.

Like probably most people, I found much of Bowie's work to be hit-or-miss.  Amy obsessed over "The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars," but to me it was a bit all over the place (I love "Lady Stardust" but I still can't understand what "Suffragette City" is really supposed to be all about).  Still, "Ziggy" is probably Bowie's most familiar and essential.  It was also the first Bowie vinyl I looked for, oddly rare and also stood up to multiple listens.

It was Rachel that really introduced me to "Low," almost categorically opposite to all things I knew about Bowie.  After a few listens, I realized that maybe Bowie was a musical genius masquerading way too much as a pop star (no make-up here, just long, brooding notes).  "Low" is that dystopian future only hinted at in "Five Years" in Ziggy.  The distance between Frank Zappa and David Bowie, musically, was nowhere near as great as I would have thought ("Fuck you, Captain Tom!" Zappa famously shouted at Bowie for poaching drummer Aynsley Dunbar from him in the early 70's).

Of course, "Low" was a collaboration with Brian Eno, like the follow-up albums '"Heroes'" and "Lodger."

'"Heroes"' was the inspiration for this post.  Shortly after Bowie's death, his albums on vinyl became even more scarce.  It wasn't until last month that '"Heroes"' was reissued, more than two years after his death.  I had been looking for it for a while, but gave up.  When I found out about the reissue, I pounced on it as soon as I could.

It was well worth the wait.  Think you know the song '"Heroes"'?  You don't.  Like so many people, I was well familiar with the 3+ minute single version of the song.  I didn't really get the whole bit about dolphins swimming or why Bowie suddenly gets emotional and shouting (sounding cheesy).  A catchy tune, probably familiar to most folks.  One of his most familiar songs of all time.

The album version of '"Heroes"' is entirely different.  At over 6 minutes, it opens with "I, I will be king / And you, you will be queen / Though nothing will drive them away / We can beat them / Just for one day."  The entire context for the song is completely missing in the single version.  And it gets deeper.  "And you, you can be mean / And I, I'll drink all the time / 'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact / Yes we're lovers / And that is that."  The long build-up to the emotional part with Bowie shouting is like a gut-punch.  This is a song about two star-crossed lovers on opposite sides of the Berlin Wall, finding a short refuge in each other's arms.  It's a tale about what walls do not just to lovers, but to families.  An all-too-familiar message, as relevant today as it was back in 1977.

Let's not make light of the fact that the song (and album) are called '"Heroes"' and not "Heroes" (the scare quotes are intentional, and yes, used correctly.  The rest of the album is musically brilliant, filled with the same energy and minimalism of "Low."  The Eno-effect on Bowie was transcendent.

When Bowie passed in 2016, he gave us "Blackstar" as a parting gift.  The five stars on the bottom spell out either "David" or "Bowie," depending on how you look.  There probably isn't any way to critique it, except to say it carries some of the same warning messages as "The Next Day."  The only black stars in the universe pull everything towards them and eliminate all of existence, only to transmit everything out as information in the form of gamma rays.  If someone were to tell me that Bowie was really an angel, and that his death was a message that we all had only five years left on earth, it would be a hard thing to counter.

Albums of 2014

Perhaps I was spoiled by 2013's selections, which included The National's most excellent "Trouble Will Find Me," David Bowie's "The Next Day", and Arcade Fire's "Reflektor."  There was enough fine music in 2013 to put together a full CD of favorite songs and have plenty of room left over.

Not so, in 2014.  Even pop music experienced a dearth and a regression, both in musical tastes as well as social attitudes.  Eminem is rapping about rape, while the latest one hit wonders are talking about "booties" and skinny-shaming.  Ugh.  Have we come so far that I'm embarrassed to look back on the year with a shudder?

Still, there are some standouts, most under the radar.

5. Jack White, "Lazaretto."  I have some mixed feelings about this album.  It's great to hear someone who actually plays real instruments and plays them well.  Still, it's a step behind his previous album, "Blunderbuss."  When Jack White is singing about privilege it's hard to tell whether he's being serious or sarcastic.  I give him the benefit of the doubt, at least he's singing the blues.

4. TV On the Radio, "Seeds."  One step forward, one step back.  The songs are quite good, but there are very few chances being taken musically anymore.  This is probably their most accessible album, which most people will enjoy.  For me, I miss the blaring horns, squawks, fuzz bass, and craziness that made their first two albums stand out so much.  Not a masterpiece, but good music nonetheless.

3. The Black Keys, "Turn Blue."  Most people will remember certain songs of the Black Keys rather than much else about the Black Keys themselves.  This album is musically rich--but, of course, entirely devoid of pop sensibility.  In the first track alone, I hear echoes of David Gilmour, Carlos Santana, and Jimmy Page.  If you are into rock guitar albums, this is a must-listen for 2014.  If that isn't your bag, or if you have ADHD, you are probably going to be immensely bored.  Personally I liked it from the start, and I'm not much of a Black Keys anything.

2. Mariachi El Bronx, "Mariachi El Bronx (III)."  Apparently this is the year for optical illusion album covers!  Of the above, this is my personal favorite.  Mariachi music played by an L.A. punk band named after the Bronx might seem like a one trick pony, but this album is by far their best work to date, proving that it might not be such a one trick pony after all.  The discarded bonus track "Loteria" is my own favorite, and, for whatever reason, didn't make the cut.  Well worth seeking out, even without the superb track.

1. "Weird Al" Yankovic, "Mandatory Fun."  I suppose it's only inevitable that, in a year where there are so many crappy, generic pop songs, "Weird Al" puts out his best album in decades.  I know he isn't for everyone, but I've thought about it long and hard: this is the album of the year.  Sure, there are some cheap shots, but he never lets a gag go on too long ("Foil" ends a verse or two short, just enough for you to get it and move on).  Meanwhile, he shows us how musically dedicated he is by giving us "Mission Statement" and "First World Problems," wonderful homages to CSNY and the Pixies.  The weak point of the album is "Sports Song," which the likes of Tom Lehrer and George Carlin have already worked to better effect--but Al would probably be the first to admit it when he's standing on the shoulders of giants.

Pono Music: What It Is, and Why We Should All Be Excited

At this year's Dreamforce, Neil Young was on hand to talk about his latest venture, Pono Music.  The idea is very simple: since the invention of digital sound, we've had to make compromises all along the way, from the master (whether recorded in digital or analog) to the listening device.  But now that memory and storage are relatively inexpensive, there's little to no reason to be listening to MP3s anymore.

Neil Young's venture aims at achieving the following goals:

• Pulling the sound straight from the master recording, into a lossless format (FLAC) and making it available.  Some recording artists already offer FLAC downloads, and Apple also has a lossless format (ALAC) that is not widely used.  Pono has set up deals with all of the record companies as a distribution channel--the library is currently at 600,000 tracks and is steadily growing.  The cost of a FLAC is slightly higher than a CD, but is on par with vinyl (I saw retail around $21, but I think it varies widely).
• Offering a digital player that is capable of handling all of that data and streaming it into good, quality sound.  The preorder price for one is $400, they're only available in yellow, and won't be out until early 2015.  Such sadness, but I know what I want for Yule this year.
• Putting together a community for audiophiles.  So far, this is where they've been the most successful, having started as a kickstarter campaign, raising way more than their initial investment.  Now Pono uses Salesforce to support its online community, so...now part of my day job is to keep Neil Young's audiophile community going (among other things).

Until I have one of those devices in my hands, I'm still listening to vinyl.  I will probably be digitizing a lot of it, and possibly converting some CDs to lossless (just what I need, another hobby!).  Hopefully Pono will transform music back to how it was originally envisioned.

Meaning of Life

I honestly believe in the best music you can find the meaning of life.  Maybe that's a bit of a stretch?  But I think it's there.

Take, for example, Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon, an artifact of my birth year, a great year for music.  I've probably listened to this album hundreds of times and still get something new from it even still.  This album has birth, death, capitalism, war, and impenetrable soul, not to mention the nature of sanity and the human condition.  Recently I got to listen to it with Megan, and we both felt the full intensity.  This is undoubtedly Pink Floyd's best, and, at least to me, the best album of all time, period.  I can remember listening to this in high school, in college, and just about every phase of my life thereafter.

Next we listened to this little gem, while Kelly was getting a massage and needed something relaxing:

Grant Green's Idle Moments is probably the definition of laid back, but not in a boring way.  In a word, it is perfect.  Joe Henderson's smooth sax is not so in a "Kenny G" sense, but in a way that you can hear the intensity of his ideas and his breathing--he's stating the theme, meditating, chewing it, and spitting it out.  This is also probably one of the best guitar jazz albums of all time (possibly Wes Montgomery's Incredible Jazz Guitar as a one-better).  It is a long favorite of Kelly's, Amy's, and mine.

Dave Brubeck's Time Out is undoubtedly the first jazz vinyl I ever listened to.  I happen to own the exact copy that I first heard, thanks to my dad.  Kelly requested to hear it tonight, so I was happy to oblige.  This album was a lot of things, long before my time.  For me it opened my ears to different time signatures, and, of all things, that white people could play good music.

Perhaps by subconscious contrast, or just because I was in the mood, I put on James Brown's Live at the Apollo.  Listening to it this time made me realize that the best instrument James Brown ever played was the audience.  This is a short album and almost feels rushed, but the band is the definition of TIGHT.  I can't think of anything tighter except perhaps Basie or Ellington, and they had to work harder.

Finally, I put on the Clash's Combat Rock, what Amy used to call "their sellout album."  But this is really the only Clash album for which I knew multiple songs, and the only one I really grew up with.  Nowhere near as listenable perhaps as London Calling, but there are some truly amazing tracks on it, including "Straight to Hell" and "Rock the Casbah."  It also has their most repetitive and well-known song, "Should I Stay or Should I Go."  After all these years, I still like this album.  And perhaps the best part is that it is cheap and easy to come by.  I think this one cost less than $10, and you can probably find it for $5.  One of the best bang for your buck albums.

We Are the Vinyl Kinks Appreciation Society...

Tonight's treat is The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society.

This is truly one of the greatest albums, and sadly, currently difficult to find in the U.S.  The Kinks were at their most innovative, best musical form, and lyrically best.  While the rest of the world was pondering how awful Vietnam was, the Kinks in 1968 were singing songs about strawberry jam, fading friendships, and overweight felines.  They are probably one of the most understated groups in rock and roll history--perhaps victims of their own success with singles such as "You Really Got Me" and "Lola."  Not that these were bad songs, mind you, just that they were hardly representative of the depth and breadth of the group--no mean feat considering that "You Really Got Me" practically shaped every song to come thereafter.  The Village Green Preservation Society has a certain symmetry to it, songs that could easily get confused ("Picture Book" vs. "People Take Pictures of Each Other"; "The Village Green Preservation Society" vs. "Village Green"), except that these variations are so profoundly different in structure and attitude.  The vinyl listen (mono) is notable in that the bass pops so clearly in each song, and the woodwinds and strings don't crowd the vocals.

One last note about the Kinks.  I especially love how they play happy songs in minor keys and sad songs in major keys--they don't just play with your heartstrings, they manipulate them.  That merry-sounding song you've been jangling and dancing to turns out to be about everything crumbling apart once you listen to the lyrics ("Come Dancing", "Death of a Clown", etc.).

Meanwhile, across the Atlantic Ocean, The Velvet Underground and Nico reveals what was going on in the streets of New York in 1967--drugs, kinky sex, and a profound disregard for any rules about melody, pitch, or time.  Music was a "scene," something that was going on while you were getting your rocks off.  Poor Lou Reed--given shock treatment as a youth to "cure" him of bisexuality, then turned to heroin.  It's kind of remarkable that anything he did ever went heard and recognized.  There's a cliche that this album didn't sell many copies, but everyone who bought one formed a band.  Perhaps there is some truth to that, but more importantly, this album is a testament to some truly dark and real stuff.  "Heroin" says about as much as Naked Lunch.  Lou's death hit me kind of hard last year, and it's weird.  Maybe he and I were more kindred spirits than I would have thought.  Or maybe he just had that effect on everyone.

Also: it's worth mentioning that without Rachel, I probably wouldn't have considered getting or listening to this album.  Thank you!

First Picks of the Evening

Tonight Kelly and I are listening to the greatest record on the planet.  By that I mean a 6 eye mono (scratches and all) of the original Kind of Blue.  That's right, I own a collectible from 1959.

There are very few albums I feel worth listening to in a variety of formats.  In this case, I can see why the original mono is still noteworthy--you can hear the intake of breath of Cannonball and Trane as they get ready for the melody.  Paul Chambers' bass really fills the entire room.  Many a PhD. has been written about this record.  To me, this record is the "bread and butter" of jazz music.  In order to understand or appreciate jazz, this album lays out the foundation.  Kelly remembers more than half the tunes, even if she can't remember the names, not just because she's heard the record but because I've played them on the sax at home, or whistled them here and there.  I tell myself, even if I could sound half as good as those guys, I will have accomplished something in life.

The next record I reached for tonight is this gem from 1964.

It's easy to overlook Crescent because it often gets overshadowed by A Love Supreme from the following year.  I once overheard someone mention this as their favorite John Coltrane album, and I can see why.  It doesn't have the "ship lost in a storm" feeling of A Love Supreme's frantic desperation.  Instead, what we have here is John Coltrane at his melodic best just before he hit that one hard.  Mind you, the title track has its build up and break down, but there is something subdued and hauntingly beautiful.  Kelly and I recently saw Pharoah Sanders play at Yoshi's, and he opened with "Crescent," something I've heard him play so many times.  I can see why he returns to his Coltrane roots so often, before breaking out just a notch or two on his own.

The John Coltrane Quartet is pretty much my vision of the perfect band.  There really isn't any better way to put it than that.  Apparently even Henry Rollins agrees with me.

The National

It's probably premature to say this (Arcade Fire's Reflektor just released this week and I have yet to hear it), but my favorite album of 2013 so far is Trouble Will Find Me by The National.

I'm going to say it's Kelly's fault (again) that I even listened to this band in the first place.  A few years ago, she bought their album Alligator on CD (note: don't have it as of yet on vinyl, will be remedied soon).

It was the kind of thing that I put on iTunes, listened to every once in a blue moon, then mostly forgot about.  We saw them perform this summer at the Outside Lands Festival, and it was exciting that they played with Kronos Quartet and Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead.  It was enough of an experience that, with very little to do in South Carolina, I picked up Trouble Will Find Me, with only modest expectations.  As I listened to their album during car trips, I was immediately blown away by the deep melancholy power and...well, there is no other way to say this except that Bryan Devendorf is probably the greatest drummer to come around in the past 30 years, and I mean that without any hyperbole.  I don't know how many times I listed to "Demons" before realizing the song was in 7:4, it was so subdued and unobtrusive.

It forced me to have another listen to Alligator.  Their lyrics are quite subversive and off the wall, in only the best possible way.  Lead singer Matt Berninger isn't the kind of person who tries to be a big rock star, and in interviews he is nerdy and reserved, just the kind of person who propels them into genius.

Hunting down from their back catalog, Boxer is a fan favorite and critically acclaimed.  If there is any question about Bryan Devendorf's talent (or if you are just a fan of drums in general), check out "Squalor Victoria."

Considered by fans on Amazon to be one of their best, High Violet is nothing short of a masterpiece (though I'm liking Trouble Will Find Me even more), opening up with the line "It's a terrible love..." and only getting all the more intense from there ("...'cause I'm evil...").

I can listen to these albums over and over again and not get bored, finding something new in every single layer--possibly to the dismay of my loved ones.