I absolutely love this song. It's one of my favorites that Sammy Cahn wrote, but Bugs Bunny ruined it for me. I can never listen to it without hearing him singing...
Given that Memorial Day started after the Civil War (or War of Northern Aggression if you live in the South), this seemed like an appropriate song to post. Of course, these days Memorial Day is more about grilling out and kicking off summer than remembering fallen soilders. I'd love write a long post bemoaning this fact, but I've got to be at a BBQ in an hour.
Jack Frost - "Civil War Lament" (mp3) from Jack Frost
photo of the McGavock Confederate Cemetery at Carnton by Tennessee Wanderer
Today we're going to enter into one of those total music geek discussions. The kind of thing that someone who doesn't have a total passion for music would read and go "jeebus, get a life you wanker." But this is the kind of thing that keeps me up at night... OK, that's an exaggeration, but this is seriously something that I've wondered about for years, so I figured I'd put the question out there and get opinions on it. So at the risk of going totally Rob Fleming on you (Rob Gordon if you suffer from bibliophobia), I have an ethical question about mixtapes...
If you're making a mix for a potential paramour, or current soulmate, or unrequited crush, or whatever, is it bad form to reuse a song? In other words, once you've put a song on a mix for someone special, should it be off limits for any future mixes?
I've always been of the mind that when making a mix for courting, songs are subject to a "one and done" rule. Once it's been gifted to an object of your affections, it's off limits for any similar use. It just seems like using the same song over and over is the musical equivalent of a pickup line, and no one wants to be that guy.
But to play devil's advocate, unless you're dating from a very small pool, no one is ever going to know you're dishing out reruns. And if it's a really good song, it seems like a waste to not use it just because you've been to that well once before. I mean, you wouldn't hesitate taking a date to your favorite bar just because you'd been there with someone else, right?
Matthew Ryan writes the kind of songs that seem like they were destined to be used on movie soundtracks. He tells stories of small people and big ideas, set to music that is cinematic in its scope. If there were such a thing as aural widescreen, his albums would come in that format. He's often been cast as a young Bruce Springsteen, so often that he's probably sick of it (although it doesn't stop him from working a sly reference to The Boss' most iconic song into "It Could Have Been Worse"). With his raspy voice, narrative lyrics, and northeastern roots, it's easy to see how that comparison came about. It's even easier listening to songs like "American Dirt," which conjures up images of Springsteen fronting U2. With touches of piano and violin, the album manages to be both driving and atmospheric over the course of it's 11 songs. It touches on punk and country and folk, yet it still feels like a cohesive whole. In a recording career that spans eleven years and as many albums, Matthew Ryan Vs. The Silver State is the highlight of what was already an impressive catalog.
Ten years ago I was woken up in the middle of the night by the phone ringing. I rolled over, looked at the clock, and silently cussed out whatever idiot was calling a wrong number at three in the morning. I wasn't in the practice of answering at that hour of the day, and I wasn't about to start. A minute later the phone rang again. This time my cussing wasn't so silent, but I still didn't answer. It took two more calls before I finally decided that maybe it wasn't a wrong number, and I stumbled downstairs to find out what was so important that it necessitated calling when most rational people were sleeping. It was my best friend calling from the west coast to tell me that Frank Sinatra had died two hours prior. He figured I'd rather hear it from someone I know than be caught off guard finding out at work that morning. I thanked him for calling, hung up the phone, and as weird as it sounds, I cried.
I've been obsessed with music since I was old enough to walk. I started making weekly trips to the local record store to buy 45s when I was eight. I probably owned more albums by the end of high school than most adults own at age 40. Of all the artists in all the genres that I've been a huge fan of in my life, I've never connected with anyone's music the way I connected with Francis Albert Sinatra. I'm definitely not an overly emotional person. It takes a lot to get me to tear up. But Frank's death really did feel like losing a friend.
I've often wondered if I'd have become such a huge Sinatra fan if the timing had been different. As I've mentioned before, the first thing of his I owned was a Christmas album. After listening to that for a year or two, I decided in 1994 that I dug it so much that I'd pick up a couple of the other albums he did with arranger Gordon Jenkins. Those ended up being No One Cares and Where Are You, two albums of torch songs recording during his golden age in 1950s. At the time I was recovering from a fairly devastating breakup, and hearing these albums was either just what the doctor ordered, or the worst thing that could have happened at the time. Inspired by Sinatra's doomed relationship with Ava Gardner, the songs were chalk full of heartbreak and despair. Finding solace in those, I moved onto harder stuff... the "suicide songs" of Only The Lonely. Frank Sinatra Jr. once described that album as being so bleak and emotionally draining that it should be sold by prescription only. It's an apt description. After a couple of months of wallowing in self pity, I decided it was time to cheer up, so I broke from the ballads and bought Come Dance With Me, an album upbeat swing under the baton of Billy May. From that point on I was hooked. Every time Tower Records had a catalog sale, I picked a couple more Sinatra CDs. Within five years, I owned every album Sinatra had ever commercially released. And considering the guy's career stretched over seven decades, that's a lot of CDs (I quit counting several years ago after I passed 250).
What made me love the guy so much? He had a lot of nicknames over the years. Ol' Blue Eyes. The Chairman of the Board. Dago Wop. But I think the one that describes him the best was the one he had first... The Voice. The guy had a way with words like no other singer in recorded history. Most of my favorite artists are songwriters as well as singers. Sinatra only had a handful of songwriting credits in his career, and his actual contributions to those songs is debatable. But his performances could get to the essence of song like no one else. Somebody else may have written most of his material, but I wouldn't even say he made the songs his own. They were his songs. He lived them. From the moment the words fell out of his mouth, he owned them.
So here are my second and third favorite Sinatra songs of all time (the number one spot is occupied by a Christmas song). In both of these cases, I think it's one specific moment in the song that makes me love it so much. For the downer, it's the last line, which even after hearing it roughly a thousand times still sends shivers down my spine. For the upbeat one, it's the pause before the first chorus. There's just something about that break that makes me smile every time.
I am the worst music blogger ever. I'm supposed to have my ear to the ground. I'm supposed to know about things before the general public. So how in the hell did I miss the announcement on Friday that Spiritualized is coming to Nashville in July to play City Hall??? Apparently there is some confusion as to whether it will be July 21 or 22 (I've seen both dates reported on various websites), but regardless, this is the best Nashville concert news... well, ever.
UPDATE: Tuesday, July 22 it is. Tickets go on sale Friday, May 30 at 10 am.
After a weekend of deliberations, and several of cups of coffee and Kahlua, we're happy to announce the winners of our Black Angels giveaway.
First off, thank you to everyone who got their creative juices flowing and submitted a story. We had a lot of good entries, but unfortunately only three people can win the grand prize. We will be sending a consolation prize to everyone who participated however. The format of the contest inspired a lot of what might be called horror haikus, and considering how I described the album in my original review, it's interesting that two of the three winners come from the southwest. There must be something in the dry desert air.
The winning entries...
From Nik in Glendale, AZ
They hit the road. He saw him at dusk, she pulled over. Quiet conversation. SUDDENLY AN AXE, BLOOD ON THE DASHBOARD!!!...the hitchhiker is waiting.
From Jeff in Las Vegas, NV
I dreamed I saw Elvis' ghost at a Las Vegas buffet.
"What's up E?"
He burped.
I woke up dead but with a full tummy.
From Andrew in Somerville, MA
Sudden darkness. At the other end of the phone, heavy breathing. A thump. Knock at the window. Hand to the throat. The end.
And honorable mention goes to Dom in Blackburn, Lancashire. If I had four grand prizes to giveaway, he would have got one.
The spook community lampooned Phil the Spectre because he was bald. So he frightened the coif off a music producer and fashioned some fuzz. FIN.
The Black Angels new album, Directions To See A Ghost, hits stores tomorrow, May 13.
Before last night, if I was going to make a list of my all time least favorite musicians, John Mayer definitely would have made the top five... probably third, after Kenny G and Barbra Streisand. Sure the guy's song are terrible, and despite being a massive tool, he seems to bag every hottie in Hollywood as if he were checking them off a list. But the biggest reason I can't stand the douchebag dates back his very first column in Esquire, when he responded to a query about The Beatles by saying "I've missed too many episodes to follow the plot." Even after he started showing off his funny bone on Chappelle's Show, and a hilarious 2 Girls 1 Cup parody, my dislike for the guy stood resolute. But after seeing this, I think the walls on my tower of hate are starting to crumble a little bit. (WARNING - Audio NSFW)
British Sea Power, with The Rosebuds Mercy Lounge, Nashville, TN Saturday May 3, 2008
First things first. As someone who resides on the bottom end of the average height range, there is nothing worse than standing behind some six foot five guy at a concert. Except maybe standing behind a six foot five guy in a Gumby costume. But at the same time, it's hard to be mad at Gumby dammit (sorry, had to). His jumping and dancing and dragging people up to the front of the stage added a certain joviality that was the perfect accompaniment to The Rosebuds' opening set. The North Carolina based trio played a set of ebullient pop that was a great way to kick things off on a Saturday night.
Seeing British Sea Power at a club like the Mercy Lounge somehow felt like cheating. Everything about the band is big... big songs, big sound, big gestures. It seemed like they should have been playing in a bigger venue to a bigger crowd. Their huge hooks and anthemic choruses almost felt trapped in the Mercy's relatively intimate confines, not that the audience seemed to mind. The Brighton band's music occupies the perfect middle ground between the pub rock of Oasis and the textured experimentalism of Radiohead. The crowd rightfully ate it up, and the band paid them back by taking audience participation to the absolute extreme. During the last song, guitarist Noble jumped into the crowd and took off his guitar, where it was then handed from audience member to audience member for the most drawn out "rock" ending to to a concert I've ever seen. You'd think drawing out the end of a song for ten minutes would get old, but for some reason it never did.
- New Wedding Present!!! I'm giddy like a 13 year old girl who's parents scored her tickets for a Hannah Montana concert. The Steve Albini produced El Rey comes out on May 20, and two new songs are currently streaming on the band's myspace profile (Burning World has a third). Not surprisingly, they are awesome. Especially this one...
- Friday night I was walking down Elliston and saw Walk The West on the marquee at Exit/In, and a flyer for F.U.C.T. on the wall at The End. It was like stepping into a time machine back to 1989, only now I'm old enough to get into clubs. Apparently this Spat Records compilation Return To Elliston Square is inspiring all the old Nashville bands to relive their glory days.
- Richard Ashcroft looks weird with short hair, but it's fantastic to see him onstage with Nick McCabe again, even though I didn't actually see it, just the pictures. My biggest wish for 2008 (or early 2009) is a Verve tour date close enough to drive to. Although this is one tour that might be worth a plane ticket, if that's what it took.
- Some free advice to opening bands... don't take down your stuff from the merch table until AFTER the headliner has played. Some people (like me) don't like holding things, so we wait until the end of the night to buy stuff. But if your CD isn't there, we can't give you our money and take it home with us. Which makes us sad, because we really liked you.
- The last three shows I saw last week all involved Merge Records artists. Weird.
Destroyer, with Andre Ethier Mercy Lounge, Nashville, TN Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Shortly after I bought my first New Pornographers CD, my stepsister turned me on to Destroyer, Dan Bejar's other band. I fell hard for the whole Bob Dylan does glam rock vibe of Streethawk: A Seduction, so I was pretty jazzed a couple of years ago when the Pornographers came to town with Destroyer as the opening act. But as great as that concert was, I found Destroyer's set to be kinda lackluster. I figured maybe it was because he didn't have his own band (he brought a guitarist and borrowed the New Pornographer's rhythm section), or perhaps it was just an off night. But after Tuesday night's set at the Mercy Lounge, I've come to the conclusion that as great a songwriter as Bejar is, and as fantastic as his albums are, he's just not a very compelling frontman. It's not that I expect every lead singer to be like Mick Jagger live, but you need to do something to engage the audience. It seemed like he spent half his time with his back to the crowd, and the time he did spend facing forward was almost entirely with his eyes closed. It's not that is was bad, but when he announced the "last song" after less than an hour, I felt like I wouldn't have been that broken up if they hadn't come back for an encore.
Fellow Canadian folk troubadour Andre Ethier opened the show with a set that sounded like Crazy Horse playing sea shanties. His songs were great, and he's got a fantastically rich, soulful voice, but the real star of the show was his guitarist. His sound shimmered and shined throughout, and he had the most masterful use of tremolo that I've ever heard. I'd love to tell you his name, but I've spent five minutes googling and came up with nothing. Anyone?
Because I'm cheap frugal, I only have basic cable, which means I don't get BBC America. So it's only been in the last couple of weeks that I've started watching the UK version of The Office on Netflix. Last week I watched the "Training" episode, where David treats the office to some old songs from his band days. I just about pissed my pants laughing during this scene...
You can also watch the full length, uncut version of "Free Love Freeway" featuring an extra verse here. And if that's not enough, there's a studio version that is absolutely awesome in it's ridiculousness.
If you're a regular reader of this blog, you already know how much I love the new Black Angels album. Directions To See A Ghost is a dark, droning masterpiece. It's been in everyday rotation around here for the past three weeks, and my love for it is showing no signs of waning whatsoever. It has already become the album to beat as my favorite of the year, and it's not even in stores yet (though it will be on May 13, and it's available on iTunes right now). You can find out what all the fuss is about for yourself on the band's imeem profile, where the album is currently streaming in it's entirety. If you haven't heard it already, you seriously need to check it out.
Thanks to our friends at Light In The Attic Records, we are giving away three copies of the new CD, along with the four song bonus EP that is otherwise available exclusively through the digital prerelease promotion that is going on now. How can you win one of these sweet ass prize packages? Simply get your inner Steven King on and tell us a ghost story... in 25 words or less. Shoot us an email with the subject line "BOO!" with your story, and make sure you include your name and address (they don't have to be part of the story, although I guess it could be your house that's haunted). You've got until midnight next Thursday, May 8 to enter. On Friday morning our panel of experts (uh, me... and several cups of coffee) will pick the three best entries, and your CDs will be on their way to your mailbox. So be creative. Be scary. Be goofy. But most of all, be brief.
