Music has been a part of my life longer than I can remember. The story around my house is that the first song I ever learned was "She's Always a Woman" by Billy Joel from the '77 record The Stranger. I don't recall my parents owning this record, but I learned it somehow--radio most likely--and would wander around the house, two years old and already crooning, the word 'woman' over an over again. As in, 'woman woman woman.' Even then, I knew what I was going to grow to be.
For a while this year, I've had a hard time listening to music. So much of it inspires such bone deep reactions--from tears to melancholy to the unbridled wildness inspired by Heart's Barracuda. Seriously, if I'm ever pulled over for speeding it will probably be because I was listening to this song and singing at top volume. There are moments in life when my own emotions are so close to my skin that I simply cannot hear a song that will push me over the edge. But, I'm not having any of those moments right now.
In fact, I can't get enough of my music. I was wandering through old cds last night and realized how much good music I own that I never listen to simply because I get caught up in whatever's current in my ipod or cd player. Today, grayish cold and windy, I am going to wallow in my music collection, cassette tapes, vinyl, and all nearly 1000 cds will get a peak, what to keep, what to retire. I haven't been this excited about a long indulgent Saturday in a while. Here's the gem from the morning--if you haven't heard this in a while, you--like me--are long overdue for a listen:
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
05 November 2011
02 October 2011
I Won't Let You Go
James Morrison. Amen.
when it’s black
take a little time to hold yourself
take a little time to feel around
before it’s gone
you won’t let go
but still keep on falling down
remember how you save me now
from all of my wrongs, yeah
if there’s love, just feel it
if there’s life, we’ll see it
this is no time to be alone, alone, yeah
i won’t let you go
say those words
say those words like there’s nothing else
close your eyes and you might believe
there is some way out
open up
open up your heart to me now
let it all come pouring out
there’s nothing i can’t take
if there’s love just feel it
if there’s life we see it
this is no time to be alone, alone, yeah
i won’t let you go
(won’t let you go)
(won’t let you go)
if your sky is falling
just take my hand and hold you
you don’t have to be alone, alone, yeah
i won’t let you go
(won’t let you go)
(won’t let you go)
and if you feel the fading of the light
and you’re too weak to carry on the fight
and all your friends that you cared for have disappeared
i’ll be here not gone forever holding on
if there’s love just feel it
if there’s life we see it
this is no time to be alone, alone, yeah
i won’t let you go
(won’t let you go)
(won’t let you go)
if there’s love just feel it
if there’s life we see it
this is no time to be alone, alone, yeah
i won’t let you go
(won’t let you go)
(won’t let you go)
i won’t let you go
i won’t let
i won’t let you go
i won’t let
i won’t let you go
i won’t let you go
when it’s black
take a little time to hold yourself
take a little time to feel around
before it’s gone
you won’t let go
but still keep on falling down
remember how you save me now
from all of my wrongs, yeah
if there’s love, just feel it
if there’s life, we’ll see it
this is no time to be alone, alone, yeah
i won’t let you go
say those words
say those words like there’s nothing else
close your eyes and you might believe
there is some way out
open up
open up your heart to me now
let it all come pouring out
there’s nothing i can’t take
if there’s love just feel it
if there’s life we see it
this is no time to be alone, alone, yeah
i won’t let you go
(won’t let you go)
(won’t let you go)
if your sky is falling
just take my hand and hold you
you don’t have to be alone, alone, yeah
i won’t let you go
(won’t let you go)
(won’t let you go)
and if you feel the fading of the light
and you’re too weak to carry on the fight
and all your friends that you cared for have disappeared
i’ll be here not gone forever holding on
if there’s love just feel it
if there’s life we see it
this is no time to be alone, alone, yeah
i won’t let you go
(won’t let you go)
(won’t let you go)
if there’s love just feel it
if there’s life we see it
this is no time to be alone, alone, yeah
i won’t let you go
(won’t let you go)
(won’t let you go)
i won’t let you go
i won’t let
i won’t let you go
i won’t let
i won’t let you go
i won’t let you go
30 September 2011
When the Music's Not Forgotten
Some days, when hope comes winging into your heart despite your best efforts at bird proofing, the best you can do is open your voice and sing, try to match the song as best you can, harmonies lifting until there is no difference between who you want to be and who you are.
This, today, is my song: When the Music's Not Forgotten, Deadman
Please come close, for I long for you to hear
Hear the sound
That will rid you of your fears
In a land, where no water can be found
In a place, where there is no fertile ground
Longing for, yearning not to be forgotten
In an age, when the music is forgotten
In an age, when the music is forgotten
In the truth (in the truth)
Speaks of great and mighty things
Teaching us (teaching us)
What the peace of heaven brings
We must give (we must give)
We must give to all the others to those in need (those in need)
Who we fear to call our brothers
Reaching out (reaching out)
So that we are not forgotten
In a time (in a time)
When the music is forgotten
In a time (in a time)
When the music is forgotten
If we stand on a hill and do not touch
How can we do good?
If we wash our hands with all our friends
Where change can really come
If we hide our fears and don't draw near
Have we really lived?
Or are we all just standing here
Hoping there is grace?
In a dream (in a dream)
That I had not long ago
Visions of (visions of)
In a city made of gold
And a sound (and a sound)
That I never heard before
Such a sound (such a sound)
Saturating to the core
Such a sound (such a sound)
One that cannot be forgotten
[x4]
In a time (in a time)
When the music's not forgotten
This, today, is my song: When the Music's Not Forgotten, Deadman
Please come close, for I long for you to hear
Hear the sound
That will rid you of your fears
In a land, where no water can be found
In a place, where there is no fertile ground
Longing for, yearning not to be forgotten
In an age, when the music is forgotten
In an age, when the music is forgotten
In the truth (in the truth)
Speaks of great and mighty things
Teaching us (teaching us)
What the peace of heaven brings
We must give (we must give)
We must give to all the others to those in need (those in need)
Who we fear to call our brothers
Reaching out (reaching out)
So that we are not forgotten
In a time (in a time)
When the music is forgotten
In a time (in a time)
When the music is forgotten
If we stand on a hill and do not touch
How can we do good?
If we wash our hands with all our friends
Where change can really come
If we hide our fears and don't draw near
Have we really lived?
Or are we all just standing here
Hoping there is grace?
In a dream (in a dream)
That I had not long ago
Visions of (visions of)
In a city made of gold
And a sound (and a sound)
That I never heard before
Such a sound (such a sound)
Saturating to the core
Such a sound (such a sound)
One that cannot be forgotten
[x4]
In a time (in a time)
When the music's not forgotten
19 February 2011
someday...
These are ten that stand out. I don't know if they are the top ten, there are a lot of great shows that aren't on here--including tonight's--but these are the ten that stand out right now.
10. REM & Sonic Youth @ Sandstone, 1995
Sure, it was the Monster Tour which meant it wasn't their best stuff, and Sonic Youth's insistence that feedback and music are the same thing makes me want to puke, but it's REM. Come on.
9. Duran Duran somewhere in Tampa, FL, 1997
I sold cd's to have the money to go to this show. I was dying to see them, I was 21, my boyfriend at the time was 28, and I bought the tickets as a birthday gift. He flipped out. The show was in support of that weird record they released in 97 or 98. They looked and sounded great, but the 30+ crowd sitting through View to a Kill while I stood and rocked out left a little to be desired.
8. Regina Spektor @ The Uptown Theatre in KC, 2008
I hadn't heard a lot of her music when a friend took me to see her. She blew me away. I thought she might be some sort of kitschy pop tart, but her talent was evident the minute she stepped on stage--mesmerizing, quiet, funny, stunning.
7. The Avett Brothers & The Low Anthem @ The Missouri Theatre in Columbia, 2010
Both bands gave incredible performances. I'd only heard 'Oh My God Charlie Darwin,' TLA's second (?) record, but it did not prepare me for the beauty of seeing them live. And, if you've ever seen TAB, you know they can't be missed.
6. Juliana Hatfield @ The Bottleneck, 1995
I was 19, a sophomore in college only in the sense that I was enrolled at KU for the second year, and I love love loved her. I went with some friends from high school--one of whom's older boyfriend snuck us Rolling Rocks all through the show--and at one point Juliana started to sing "Make It Home," a song that still haunts me. Her male bandmates walked up to the other mic and one by one said, "I love my vagina." She got so pissed she stormed off stage and had to be coaxed into returning thirty odd minutes later.
5. Counting Crows, Live, Galactica, & Blonde Redhead @ Sandstone, 2000
This was a weird tour. Galactica always opened--and they were awesome--Live and CC traded off who did the first hour or so and who did the second. I am not really a Live fan, but they were pretty good. The reason this song makes the list however--besides the Ed Kowalczyk/Adam Duritz cover of TLC's "No Scrubs"--is the nearly ten minute breakdown in the middle of "Round Here" during which Adam came down to the front of the stage and launched into part of "Private Archipelago." Un. Real.
4. Ani DiFranco @ the Lied Center, 1998
4th row tickets, it rained so much that night that my car almost flooded out in the parking lot. I lived up the street from the Lied at the time, so we didn't really have far to go, but it took us forever, and we were soaked when we got inside. The show was a benefit for the Free Leonard Peltier Foundation, and at one point Ani walked over and yelled at these four girls who were being totally obnoxious--talking through her set. I loved her in that moment, not afraid to stop playing and call people out for being rude. And when she played "Pulse" I was transfixed. Which, incidentally, contains one of my favorite lyrics ever,
"i realized that night that the hall light
which seemed so bright when you turned it on is nothing
compared to the dawn
which is nothing, compared to the light
which seeps from me while you're sleeping")
3. Tori Amos @ the Lied Center, 1994
This was the first concert I ever went to by myself, and it was totally worth it. I remember what I was wearing, I remember walking across the bridge from Hashinger Hall to the Lied, ticket in hand, looking up at the September sky and thinking I was really doing something grown up--seeing a show alone, unafraid to do that. It made me feel powerful. And when she played "Me & a Gun" the whole room went silent. I haven't been to a show since when the crowd has been so totally mesmerized. It was like a spell had fallen over the room.
2. Lyle Lovett @ The Steifel Theatre, 2009
I went to this show with my mom and we had a ball. She bought the tickets for my birthday, we got dressed up, had dinner before. It's not something mom and I do often. We talk all the time and laugh and shop and love each other like crazy, but we don't have mother daughter dates like this much. Time and opportunity get in our way, but this night was amazing. The show was fabulous--you simply cannot ever go wrong with Lyle Lovett. Ever. But it was so hot in the theatre that at one point mom and I looked at each other and started laughing about which articles of clothing we could legally remove. Afterwards we went to Dairy Queen and got blizzards--a favorite family past time--and circled back to watch the band load in. We saw Francine, a backup singer who has been with Lyle for years, standing out by the buses in her nice stage shirt, a button up denim shirt over it, shorts and flip flops. And she was smoking. As my mother would say, "we like to died!"
1. Mumford & Sons, the Mynabirds, & Albatross @ the Record Bar, KC 2010
The two opening acts really surprised me, I knew nothing about them and found them both to be engaging and energetic. The Mynabirds, a sort of throwback folk/soul act out of Omaha had this really strange dynamic happening with the lead singer--a thin knockout blonde--and the only other girl in the band, a dark haired, heavier backup singer. It was stated several times that she'd written the songs, but her voice wasn't particularly compelling and she and the blonde kept shooting 'you know you're only here because you have to be' looks at each other all through their set.
And then there was Mumford. Ah, Mumford. I owe my love of them to the guys I work with. True music hounds, that lot, and they introduced to a band that I have recommended often enough to be making residuals. They were sweet and silly and surprised at how small the venue was, it was the last night of their first North American tour and it was the smallest place they played in, which means we got the most intimate and best show of the whole tour. No one who was there will argue that it was anything less than spectacular. The friend I went with--who actually attended 6 of these 10 concerts with me--has said several times that he could see that show every single night for the rest of his life and never be disappointed. I couldn't agree more.
08 February 2011
17 January 2011
Stars
Somewhere in my father's studio, in an old wooden cabinet filled with audio cassettes, there is a tape of my brother and I singing and making music. I am maybe five and he is two and half. We sing about rock and roll in our tiny, tinny childrens' voices, we laugh, we sound like we are having the time of our lives.
Brandon knew early on that being a drummer, a performer, a professional musician was the only thing that was going to make him happy and, to that end, he is living the life he dreamt of when we were kids. He is not famous, his is not a household name, but the shows he plays with the various groups he's in are always packed, and they are always worth the price of admission. His press clippings have called him "a show unto himself," and "the best drummer you've never heard of." When he is on stage, no matter who he's playing with, Brandon is the one you watch. His passion and energy are electric, and he's the guy you want to know in the room at any party, too. He's quick with a joke or a great conversation about the influence of ancient African rhythms on the evolving state of contemporary hip hop, but being a drummer is just the beginning of who he is as a musician.
I remember one Christmas, he somehow got a hold of an old trombone and proceeded to play--or attempt to play--that thing all over our house. He had to have been twenty and he was ridiculous, puffed out cheeks and breathless, but blowing all day trying to get the hang of it. Eventually he did. He's not going to join any brass quintets, mind you, but he could add a few notes to a record if he had to, and that was always his intention. He's taught himself to get by on almost every instrument--bass, guitar, piano, winds, brass, strings--I've heard him play them all, and of course he can sing.
But, and this is the part that I think I am most proud and in awe of, Brandon also writes songs. Not just hooky pop pablum that any of us could spew out in the car given the right beat and topic, but real thoughtful music that warms the soul and soothes the spirit. When he sings, you hear his sincerity, his passion, and sheer love of creating something lasting. This is his latest track, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do--but that might be hard seeing as how I'm a pretty biased big sister.
STARS
Brandon knew early on that being a drummer, a performer, a professional musician was the only thing that was going to make him happy and, to that end, he is living the life he dreamt of when we were kids. He is not famous, his is not a household name, but the shows he plays with the various groups he's in are always packed, and they are always worth the price of admission. His press clippings have called him "a show unto himself," and "the best drummer you've never heard of." When he is on stage, no matter who he's playing with, Brandon is the one you watch. His passion and energy are electric, and he's the guy you want to know in the room at any party, too. He's quick with a joke or a great conversation about the influence of ancient African rhythms on the evolving state of contemporary hip hop, but being a drummer is just the beginning of who he is as a musician.
I remember one Christmas, he somehow got a hold of an old trombone and proceeded to play--or attempt to play--that thing all over our house. He had to have been twenty and he was ridiculous, puffed out cheeks and breathless, but blowing all day trying to get the hang of it. Eventually he did. He's not going to join any brass quintets, mind you, but he could add a few notes to a record if he had to, and that was always his intention. He's taught himself to get by on almost every instrument--bass, guitar, piano, winds, brass, strings--I've heard him play them all, and of course he can sing.
But, and this is the part that I think I am most proud and in awe of, Brandon also writes songs. Not just hooky pop pablum that any of us could spew out in the car given the right beat and topic, but real thoughtful music that warms the soul and soothes the spirit. When he sings, you hear his sincerity, his passion, and sheer love of creating something lasting. This is his latest track, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do--but that might be hard seeing as how I'm a pretty biased big sister.
STARS
10 January 2011
Snow Day
No matter how beautiful the snow, how magical the world, today was a day I needed to be at school. The musical I'm directing needs to be rehearsed--we open a week from Thursday--and I'm teaching Their Eyes Were Watching God, which I love, so I hate not getting to talk about it.
If you need something to do today, this is my pick for the most perfect short story ever written. I cry every time I read it: In the Cemetery Where Al Jolson is Buried, Amy Hempel.
Since this is the hand dealt to me, this is the soundtrack for the day:
If you need something to do today, this is my pick for the most perfect short story ever written. I cry every time I read it: In the Cemetery Where Al Jolson is Buried, Amy Hempel.
Since this is the hand dealt to me, this is the soundtrack for the day:
12 December 2010
Home is Wherever I'm Alone With You
His tank top makes me cold, but everything else about this makes me warms and fuzzy.
04 December 2010
Just Another Day in Dublin...
Outside some stores last Christmas Eve in Dublin, Glen Hansard, Bono, and Damie Rice decided to do a little busking--brilliant:
30 November 2010
24 November 2010
I Believe
I awoke with a cold on my day off. The universe, I think, is suggesting that maybe this year, I need to be alone for the holidays. Unless this nastiness goes away, I'll be giving thanks in my bed strewn with Emily Dickinson poems and biographies. Because, when you're sick, there's nothing more appropriate than the life story of a reclusive woman who may never have known real love.
Even if she didn't experience it, Emily seems to have believed in it which I greatly appreciate. I believe in it, too, especially given the incredible way my dissolve turned out. I dislike the word divorce, it is cold and clinical and angry and that's not what happened to me. The man I was married to is kind, funny, smart, and a wonderful friend, but our hopes and dreams turned out to be incompatible. That doesn't mean there isn't love there any longer, we are trying to be and stay friends. There may be more love here than most people would realize: we loved each other enough to say, "go be happy," knowing that that happiness would, eventually, be with someone else.
Some of my adorable students have started suggesting they could 'hook [me] up' with their single fathers, uncles, older brothers, etc. One offer even came with the incentive that the young lady's father had 'just got his new teeth.' Be still my beating heart. Seriously, though, I believe real love exists. I believe in it as I believe in the sun coming up each day, the pull of the moon on the sea, the perfect joy in a child's surprised laughter. I've seen it when my brother looks at his beautiful wife and when my father, after 25 years of marriage, tells my mother how much he loves her.
This Thanksgiving, I'm praying we all get to find that same peace, joy, and happiness someday, and I'm praying we all have the patience to wait for it.
To that end, this is the song that woke me on my shuffling ipod alarm clock this morning. Enjoy.
Even if she didn't experience it, Emily seems to have believed in it which I greatly appreciate. I believe in it, too, especially given the incredible way my dissolve turned out. I dislike the word divorce, it is cold and clinical and angry and that's not what happened to me. The man I was married to is kind, funny, smart, and a wonderful friend, but our hopes and dreams turned out to be incompatible. That doesn't mean there isn't love there any longer, we are trying to be and stay friends. There may be more love here than most people would realize: we loved each other enough to say, "go be happy," knowing that that happiness would, eventually, be with someone else.
Some of my adorable students have started suggesting they could 'hook [me] up' with their single fathers, uncles, older brothers, etc. One offer even came with the incentive that the young lady's father had 'just got his new teeth.' Be still my beating heart. Seriously, though, I believe real love exists. I believe in it as I believe in the sun coming up each day, the pull of the moon on the sea, the perfect joy in a child's surprised laughter. I've seen it when my brother looks at his beautiful wife and when my father, after 25 years of marriage, tells my mother how much he loves her.
This Thanksgiving, I'm praying we all get to find that same peace, joy, and happiness someday, and I'm praying we all have the patience to wait for it.
To that end, this is the song that woke me on my shuffling ipod alarm clock this morning. Enjoy.
19 November 2010
29 October 2010
Frontier Ruckus
Last spring, this band rolled through Lawrence and, on the recommendation of some pretty fantastic people, I went to see them. Their music has been in pretty steady rotation ever since.
Tomorrow night they're playing at the Bottleneck, and you can bet your sweet bippy I'll be there. Here's the biography the band provided for the Bottleneck event page.
FRONTIER RUCKUS
We’ve memorized so thoroughly the worlds from which we come. With a lifelong obsession, we’ve catalogued and internalized the apparently permanent fixtures of a cherished locality until our bodies have in fact become either physical extensions or microcosmic containers of these landscapes: arms kinking in unbroken strip-mall chains, gaping mouths mimicking the enormous vacancy of an evacuated sports dome. The chief business of Frontier Ruckus is the collection and organization of these solid, unmoving markers. We spool the vast confusion and depth of existence around fast-food restaurants in anchoring tethers; we use the vacuous space of the abandoned 90s mall, now dead and tomb-like, as leaky reservoirs of overflowing memory. We turn to these devices to render memory and its innumerable landmarks somehow less crippling in their abundance—to seek some agency, some proprietorship over a world as heavy and unwieldy with contents of the past as a backyard filling with nightfall.
In the 1990s my mother worked at Summit Place Mall, on the borderline between Pontiac and Waterford, Michigan. So much met at that nexus. Day met dusk and a drive home. Now it is where memory meets the present tense and struggles to recognize it. My grandfather taught me how to stand a quarter on its side in the food court there. I studied the quarter intently. I noticed the thin black line, the feeble definition separating one thing from all other objects in the world. From that perception on, I broke free from those borders and blended my body into the entire landscape of my experience. A large part of me has lived in a world of its own rearrangements and lovely eternities ever since. What I’ve found in this expansive nighttime of blurred place, age, and pure memory is hopefully some of what Deadmalls and Nightfalls reflects.
Tomorrow night they're playing at the Bottleneck, and you can bet your sweet bippy I'll be there. Here's the biography the band provided for the Bottleneck event page.
FRONTIER RUCKUS
We’ve memorized so thoroughly the worlds from which we come. With a lifelong obsession, we’ve catalogued and internalized the apparently permanent fixtures of a cherished locality until our bodies have in fact become either physical extensions or microcosmic containers of these landscapes: arms kinking in unbroken strip-mall chains, gaping mouths mimicking the enormous vacancy of an evacuated sports dome. The chief business of Frontier Ruckus is the collection and organization of these solid, unmoving markers. We spool the vast confusion and depth of existence around fast-food restaurants in anchoring tethers; we use the vacuous space of the abandoned 90s mall, now dead and tomb-like, as leaky reservoirs of overflowing memory. We turn to these devices to render memory and its innumerable landmarks somehow less crippling in their abundance—to seek some agency, some proprietorship over a world as heavy and unwieldy with contents of the past as a backyard filling with nightfall.
In the 1990s my mother worked at Summit Place Mall, on the borderline between Pontiac and Waterford, Michigan. So much met at that nexus. Day met dusk and a drive home. Now it is where memory meets the present tense and struggles to recognize it. My grandfather taught me how to stand a quarter on its side in the food court there. I studied the quarter intently. I noticed the thin black line, the feeble definition separating one thing from all other objects in the world. From that perception on, I broke free from those borders and blended my body into the entire landscape of my experience. A large part of me has lived in a world of its own rearrangements and lovely eternities ever since. What I’ve found in this expansive nighttime of blurred place, age, and pure memory is hopefully some of what Deadmalls and Nightfalls reflects.
10 September 2010
I Have Never Been Cool
I have never been cool—at least, not outwardly so. From the outside, I’ve been performative, loud, opinionated, but never cool. I always had something to say and, as a kid, I had no tact so being the girl with the world in her mouth tended to make me, if not exactly an outcast, definitely not someone who flew in the cool blue circles of awesomeness.
On the inside, however, I have always felt like there was a cool little secret no one knew about: I have excellent taste in music. I know, I know, some people say this about themselves and it is totally false. They tout the transformative powers of Milli Vanilli and the subtle strains of Celine Dion all while celebrating Michael Bolton’s entire catalog. I’m not going to say I haven’t rocked out to “Girl You Know It’s True” or sung along—way too loudly—to “I’m Your Lady” when they’ve come on the radio, and like every red-blooded American girl my age, I did in fact at one time own a Michael Bolton tape, but none of those artists speaks to my taste level.
Like the designers on Project Runway, I have been influenced by many things, but my taste is most defined by what I loved as a kid—a young kid. In my house, there was always music. Dad plays the keyboard (not exactly right to say piano when the instrument in question is a behemoth Hammond B3), and my brother is a drummer so there was always music. I sang for years, and we were as likely to be listening to one of Dad’s many bands rehearsing (country acts Caught in the Act and Richwood, blues Rebel Miles, classic rock Lix—yeah, Lix) as we were to Mom’s records. I remember The Allman Brothers, The Beatles, and Van Morrison from a young age. I learned really early on that you can’t just have a good beat, you have to have something to say, and sometimes the best thing you can say is “Let It Be.”
Anyway, I set the Ipod to Shufflin’ last night and discovered that, if someone were to pick it up and scroll through the last hundred songs, I would finally look—outwardly—cool. Well, I think so anyway…aren’t we always at the mercy of our own definitions of things like that? (That’s probably another blog post) I can’t believe how many little mini-narratives there are running through this—my life is nothing if not metaphorical, even when it comes to my music.And yeah, I get that there’s a lot of Ani & Ryan Adams—I make no apologies for that.
For now, here’s the hundred (with a few links in case you're interested).
1. Love Is All I Am, Dawes
2. Dear Sara, Anders Parker
3. If I Needed You, Lyle Lovett (Townes VZ cover)
4. Coming Up, Ani DiFranco
5. Fade Into You, Mazzy Star
6. Pulse, Ani
7. Waiting for Superman, Iron & Wine
8. Closer, Joshua Radin
9. Flowers in December, Mazzy Star
10. Gordon’s Message, Gordon Gano (Violent Femmes)
11. Self-Evident, Ani
12. Honey, Stay Awhile, The Rosewood Thieves
13. Lisztomania, Phoenix
14. Amy, Ryan Adams
15. Because the Night, Patti Smith
16. Gossip In the Grain, Ray La Montagne
17. Banjolin Song (live on Balcony TV), Mumford & Sons
18. If You Let Me eb Your anchor, Dawes on Daytrotter
19. Right Place, The Mynabirds
20. Medicine Ball, Rogue Wave
21. Faithless Street, Whiskeytown
22. Never Forget You, Noisettes
23. Nobody Girl, Ryan Adams
24. Avenues, Whiskeytown
25. Bodyguard, Dawn Landes
26. Oh Quiet Night, Will Stratton
27. Diner, Ani
28. Ten Thousand Words, The Avett Brothers
29. Speed of Sound, Chris Bell
30. No One Can Hold a Candle to You, Morrissey
31. Incomplete & Insecure, The Avett Brothers
32. The Devil Had a Hold of Me, Gillian Welch
33. Worthy, Ani
34. Find the River, Pickin’ Series-Pickin’ on REM
35. War on Machines, Blitzen Trapper
36. Face Up & Sing, Ani
37. Gratitude, Ani
38. Friendly Beasts, Sufjan Stevens
39. Comes a Time, Neil Young
40. Starting Now, Ingrid Michaelson
41. Rome, Phoenix
42. I Would Be Sad, The Avett Brothers
43. Banjolin Song, Mumford & Sons
44. Ground Beneath My Feet, Sherwood
45. Stormy Weather, Echo & the Bunnymen
46. I Don’t Know Why, Colin Hay
47. Jacksonville, Sufjan Stevens
48. Suffragette City, David Bowie
49. Hazards of Love Pt. 1, The Decemberists
50. Restless, Langhorne Slim
51. Moon Song, Patty Griffin
52. Tired of This Life, Dawn Landes
53. What Light, Wilco
54. Letter to Elise, The Cure
55. 10:1, Rogue Wave
56. Ruination Day Pt. 2, Gillian Welch
57. I Made a Resolution, Sea Wolf on Daytrotter
58. Just Like Honey, Jesus and the Mary Chain
59. By the Time the Sun Goes Down, Langhorne Slim
60. The Last One, Cary Brothers
61. Little Lovin’, Lissie
62. Never Enough, The Cure
63. Spirit, The Caesars
64. When the President Talks to God, Bright Eyes
65. My Heart is Broken, Ryan Adams & the Cardinals
66. Not Where You’re At (But Where You Will Be), The Rave-Ups
67. Little Lion Man, Mumford & Sons
68. Dance Me Around the Room, The Steel Wheels
69. Living in the Promiseland, Willie Nelson
70. Orion Town 2, Frontier Ruckus
71. Love Is All I Am, Dawes
72. Fields of Gold, Eva Cassidy
73. Napoleon (2007), Ani
74. Train Ride, Lyle Lovett
75. Father & Son, Cat Stevens
76. Filipino Box Spring Hog, Tom Waits
77. We’ll Sweep Out the Ashes In the Morning, Emmylou Harris & Gram Parsons
78. Hard Headed Woman, Wanda Jackson
79. 40 Day Dream, Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeroes
80. Time Will Do the Talking, Patty Griffin
81. House Where Nobody Lives, Tom Waits
82. One Flight Down, Norah Jones
83. Vodka, Victoria Hart
84. Garden of Simple, Ani
85. Next Big Thing, Ani
86. Mutiny, I Promise You, The New Pornographers
87. Old, Old Song, Ani
88. The Wind, Cat Stevens
89. In My Own Eyes, Brandi Carlile
90. Knuckle Down, Ani
91. If I Were the Man You Wanted, Lyle Lovett
92. The High Road, Broken Bells
93. Blue Light, Mazzy Star
94. Big Time In the Jungle, Old Crow Medicine Show
95. I’m Coming Over, Ryan Adams
96. Don’t Be Sad, Whiskeytown
97. Baby Boomer, Monsters of Folk
98. Strawberry Wine, Ryan Adams
99. Bird On a Wire, Leonard Cohen
100. Sister, I’m a Poet, Morrissey
On the inside, however, I have always felt like there was a cool little secret no one knew about: I have excellent taste in music. I know, I know, some people say this about themselves and it is totally false. They tout the transformative powers of Milli Vanilli and the subtle strains of Celine Dion all while celebrating Michael Bolton’s entire catalog. I’m not going to say I haven’t rocked out to “Girl You Know It’s True” or sung along—way too loudly—to “I’m Your Lady” when they’ve come on the radio, and like every red-blooded American girl my age, I did in fact at one time own a Michael Bolton tape, but none of those artists speaks to my taste level.
Like the designers on Project Runway, I have been influenced by many things, but my taste is most defined by what I loved as a kid—a young kid. In my house, there was always music. Dad plays the keyboard (not exactly right to say piano when the instrument in question is a behemoth Hammond B3), and my brother is a drummer so there was always music. I sang for years, and we were as likely to be listening to one of Dad’s many bands rehearsing (country acts Caught in the Act and Richwood, blues Rebel Miles, classic rock Lix—yeah, Lix) as we were to Mom’s records. I remember The Allman Brothers, The Beatles, and Van Morrison from a young age. I learned really early on that you can’t just have a good beat, you have to have something to say, and sometimes the best thing you can say is “Let It Be.”
Anyway, I set the Ipod to Shufflin’ last night and discovered that, if someone were to pick it up and scroll through the last hundred songs, I would finally look—outwardly—cool. Well, I think so anyway…aren’t we always at the mercy of our own definitions of things like that? (That’s probably another blog post) I can’t believe how many little mini-narratives there are running through this—my life is nothing if not metaphorical, even when it comes to my music.And yeah, I get that there’s a lot of Ani & Ryan Adams—I make no apologies for that.
For now, here’s the hundred (with a few links in case you're interested).
1. Love Is All I Am, Dawes
2. Dear Sara, Anders Parker
3. If I Needed You, Lyle Lovett (Townes VZ cover)
4. Coming Up, Ani DiFranco
5. Fade Into You, Mazzy Star
6. Pulse, Ani
7. Waiting for Superman, Iron & Wine
8. Closer, Joshua Radin
9. Flowers in December, Mazzy Star
10. Gordon’s Message, Gordon Gano (Violent Femmes)
11. Self-Evident, Ani
12. Honey, Stay Awhile, The Rosewood Thieves
13. Lisztomania, Phoenix
14. Amy, Ryan Adams
15. Because the Night, Patti Smith
16. Gossip In the Grain, Ray La Montagne
17. Banjolin Song (live on Balcony TV), Mumford & Sons
18. If You Let Me eb Your anchor, Dawes on Daytrotter
19. Right Place, The Mynabirds
20. Medicine Ball, Rogue Wave
21. Faithless Street, Whiskeytown
22. Never Forget You, Noisettes
23. Nobody Girl, Ryan Adams
24. Avenues, Whiskeytown
25. Bodyguard, Dawn Landes
26. Oh Quiet Night, Will Stratton
27. Diner, Ani
28. Ten Thousand Words, The Avett Brothers
29. Speed of Sound, Chris Bell
30. No One Can Hold a Candle to You, Morrissey
31. Incomplete & Insecure, The Avett Brothers
32. The Devil Had a Hold of Me, Gillian Welch
33. Worthy, Ani
34. Find the River, Pickin’ Series-Pickin’ on REM
35. War on Machines, Blitzen Trapper
36. Face Up & Sing, Ani
37. Gratitude, Ani
38. Friendly Beasts, Sufjan Stevens
39. Comes a Time, Neil Young
40. Starting Now, Ingrid Michaelson
41. Rome, Phoenix
42. I Would Be Sad, The Avett Brothers
43. Banjolin Song, Mumford & Sons
44. Ground Beneath My Feet, Sherwood
45. Stormy Weather, Echo & the Bunnymen
46. I Don’t Know Why, Colin Hay
47. Jacksonville, Sufjan Stevens
48. Suffragette City, David Bowie
49. Hazards of Love Pt. 1, The Decemberists
50. Restless, Langhorne Slim
51. Moon Song, Patty Griffin
52. Tired of This Life, Dawn Landes
53. What Light, Wilco
54. Letter to Elise, The Cure
55. 10:1, Rogue Wave
56. Ruination Day Pt. 2, Gillian Welch
57. I Made a Resolution, Sea Wolf on Daytrotter
58. Just Like Honey, Jesus and the Mary Chain
59. By the Time the Sun Goes Down, Langhorne Slim
60. The Last One, Cary Brothers
61. Little Lovin’, Lissie
62. Never Enough, The Cure
63. Spirit, The Caesars
64. When the President Talks to God, Bright Eyes
65. My Heart is Broken, Ryan Adams & the Cardinals
66. Not Where You’re At (But Where You Will Be), The Rave-Ups
67. Little Lion Man, Mumford & Sons
68. Dance Me Around the Room, The Steel Wheels
69. Living in the Promiseland, Willie Nelson
70. Orion Town 2, Frontier Ruckus
71. Love Is All I Am, Dawes
72. Fields of Gold, Eva Cassidy
73. Napoleon (2007), Ani
74. Train Ride, Lyle Lovett
75. Father & Son, Cat Stevens
76. Filipino Box Spring Hog, Tom Waits
77. We’ll Sweep Out the Ashes In the Morning, Emmylou Harris & Gram Parsons
78. Hard Headed Woman, Wanda Jackson
79. 40 Day Dream, Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeroes
80. Time Will Do the Talking, Patty Griffin
81. House Where Nobody Lives, Tom Waits
82. One Flight Down, Norah Jones
83. Vodka, Victoria Hart
84. Garden of Simple, Ani
85. Next Big Thing, Ani
86. Mutiny, I Promise You, The New Pornographers
87. Old, Old Song, Ani
88. The Wind, Cat Stevens
89. In My Own Eyes, Brandi Carlile
90. Knuckle Down, Ani
91. If I Were the Man You Wanted, Lyle Lovett
92. The High Road, Broken Bells
93. Blue Light, Mazzy Star
94. Big Time In the Jungle, Old Crow Medicine Show
95. I’m Coming Over, Ryan Adams
96. Don’t Be Sad, Whiskeytown
97. Baby Boomer, Monsters of Folk
98. Strawberry Wine, Ryan Adams
99. Bird On a Wire, Leonard Cohen
100. Sister, I’m a Poet, Morrissey
10 August 2010
A Cover to End All Covers
I love Old Crow Medicine Show's song 'Wagon Wheel' a little too much. It's been on every cd I've made in the last three months, it's in constant rotation on my ipod, and it can put me in a good mood no matter how low I've been. I really didn't think the song could get better.
And then a friend sent me a link to Mumford & Sons covering the aforementioned song.
It blew my mind.
Judge for yourself.
And then a friend sent me a link to Mumford & Sons covering the aforementioned song.
It blew my mind.
Judge for yourself.
03 August 2010
Anne Lamott Defines My Life
Yesterday I started reading Anne Lamott's "Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith." I've had it for awhile but didn't pick it up until I was headed off to sit pool side with friends and soak up the sun on my last few days of freedom before the school year begins.
This afternoon, after posting about Mumford this morning, I was in the sun again. On a lawn chair in my backyard, a sky empty of clouds above me, the same shade of blue as the rooftops in Santorini, I stumbled across a passage so perfect, I had to set the book down and remind myself to breathe. It is incredible the way--when we most need it--the right book, the right person, the right anything come along at the exact perfect time and reminds us that we aren't nearly as alone as we thought ourselves to be.
The passage I read: "...music is about as physical as it gets: your essential rhythm is your heartbeat; your essential sound, the breath. We're walking temples of noise, and when you add tender hearts to this mix, it somehow lets us meet in places we couldn't get to any other way."
My father is a musician, my brother is a musician, my mother has a lovely singing voice but never cared to perform and I, once, called myself a singer. The last few months, at church, I have rediscovered my voice and--over the last year thanks to good music from a dear friend--I have been reminded of how song unites both the singer and the listener. An intimate concert at a local venue, singing alone in the shower, finding the melody in the way an old woman speaks to her husband as they shuffle down the grocery store aisle, arms entwined, loving even these small mundane moments because it is in them that they are reminded all over again of how good it is to share a life with the person you love--their is music to be heard everywhere if we only open ourselves to the song.
Henry Miller wrote, "To sing, you must first open your mouth." I believe in this as much as I believe in a universe created to fill me with an awe that stops my breath, as much as I believe in a god that wants me to be happy, as much as I believe in the power of love to revive even the most closed and broken heart. And, because I believe Miller's words, I have been trying to open my mouth as often as I can, to speak for those who cannot, to praise those who feel unworthy, to love those who have forgotten how easy love should be.
In keeping with Lamott's words, with Miller's, and with my own commitment to making this life as beautiful for the people I love as possible--and yes, for the record I do include myself in that group--here is the song of the day.
This afternoon, after posting about Mumford this morning, I was in the sun again. On a lawn chair in my backyard, a sky empty of clouds above me, the same shade of blue as the rooftops in Santorini, I stumbled across a passage so perfect, I had to set the book down and remind myself to breathe. It is incredible the way--when we most need it--the right book, the right person, the right anything come along at the exact perfect time and reminds us that we aren't nearly as alone as we thought ourselves to be.
The passage I read: "...music is about as physical as it gets: your essential rhythm is your heartbeat; your essential sound, the breath. We're walking temples of noise, and when you add tender hearts to this mix, it somehow lets us meet in places we couldn't get to any other way."
My father is a musician, my brother is a musician, my mother has a lovely singing voice but never cared to perform and I, once, called myself a singer. The last few months, at church, I have rediscovered my voice and--over the last year thanks to good music from a dear friend--I have been reminded of how song unites both the singer and the listener. An intimate concert at a local venue, singing alone in the shower, finding the melody in the way an old woman speaks to her husband as they shuffle down the grocery store aisle, arms entwined, loving even these small mundane moments because it is in them that they are reminded all over again of how good it is to share a life with the person you love--their is music to be heard everywhere if we only open ourselves to the song.
Henry Miller wrote, "To sing, you must first open your mouth." I believe in this as much as I believe in a universe created to fill me with an awe that stops my breath, as much as I believe in a god that wants me to be happy, as much as I believe in the power of love to revive even the most closed and broken heart. And, because I believe Miller's words, I have been trying to open my mouth as often as I can, to speak for those who cannot, to praise those who feel unworthy, to love those who have forgotten how easy love should be.
In keeping with Lamott's words, with Miller's, and with my own commitment to making this life as beautiful for the people I love as possible--and yes, for the record I do include myself in that group--here is the song of the day.
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