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!