Keith Moon was 31. Janis Joplin was 27. So was The Lizard King. As was Jimi. Syd Barrett sank into his drug-exacerbated depression and schizophrenia at age 22. His Pink Floyd bandmates finally chose to move on without him. I realize that Syd did not die at a young age, as the others did. He was 60 when he died but had not really lived in the interim.
They all left their mark on the world. They won't soon be forgotten. If you're on this blog, you're probably a fan of their music. You think of them from time to time. You get that mental picture whenever you hear one of their songs. My impetus for writing this blog was a special on VH1 Classic on the life of Jim Morrison. A quick aside. Did you know that the name of the band The Doors was taken from Aldous Huxley's book :The Doors of Perception? Huxley wrote his book to detail his experiences while tripping on mescaline. He wrote the book in 1954. And my generation thought we had "discovered" mescaline and peyote. I was only six years old when Huxley wrote the book! My first hallucinogenic experience was still 13 years away.
All the previously-named performers were examples of the James Dean quote: "Dream as if you'll live forever. Live as if you'll die today." I guess he's a good one to emulate; he was 24 when his life ended in a car crash.
They all had fame and fortune. As long as there is a way to play recorded material, their images and voices will be remembered. But I can't help but ask myself: Would they rather be alive?
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
What Makes A Great Album?
Music, being very, VERY subjective, is, well...kinda subjective. Anyway, one criteria I use to judge a really great album/CD/mp3/whatever is whether or not the entire album is listenable. You know, not one with four or five good cuts and then some crap thrown in as filler. I was reminded of this while watching a VH1 Classic show about Fleetwood Mac made Rumors - one of my favorite albums of all time.
Rumors falls within the definition I provided. I suppose that "Oh, Daddy" is the song I like the least, but even it has some definite listenosity. The band's troubles throughout the one-year period during which Rumors was recorded are well-documented. I have a particular afinity for the album because it came out just after I finished my Air Force enlistment and moved from the Gulf Coast to Kosciusko, MS. My own marriage was deteriorating in early 1977 when the album was released and, being into the lyrics even back then, I could relate. All five members were going through hell - and they still managed to make one of the better albums ever cut.
Shortly before Rumors, Bob Seger released "Night Moves". This is another album with not one bad cut or filler. No matter how often I listen to it, it never gets old.
A few others that come to mind are Sgt. Pepper and Led Zeppelin IV. But, don't let me run on and on; Post some of your ideas for great albums.
Rumors falls within the definition I provided. I suppose that "Oh, Daddy" is the song I like the least, but even it has some definite listenosity. The band's troubles throughout the one-year period during which Rumors was recorded are well-documented. I have a particular afinity for the album because it came out just after I finished my Air Force enlistment and moved from the Gulf Coast to Kosciusko, MS. My own marriage was deteriorating in early 1977 when the album was released and, being into the lyrics even back then, I could relate. All five members were going through hell - and they still managed to make one of the better albums ever cut.
Shortly before Rumors, Bob Seger released "Night Moves". This is another album with not one bad cut or filler. No matter how often I listen to it, it never gets old.
A few others that come to mind are Sgt. Pepper and Led Zeppelin IV. But, don't let me run on and on; Post some of your ideas for great albums.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
A song with lyrics you may like...
This is by Blitzen Trapper. The song is off their newer album, Furr, and it's the title track to boot. Once again, I'm not going to post lyrics, as this should be easy to follow. Check it out, if you like it great, if it prompts discussion, even better.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Story telling...
I figured I'd take a slightly different approach and go with a song telling a story. I can't say I'm big on lyrics, but they often stick in my head, and maybe I take a little meaning from them. This song, however, has caused me to watch shows on this, drink beer in honor of the men who lost their lives (courtesy of Great Lakes Brewing Co.), and just generally read up on it. Anyway, I don't know if I need to paste the lyrics in here as Gordon delivers them in a way that reading along seems pointless. Since he's playing here in South Bend soon, and the lake is close enough, this is what brought this to mind. Anyway, great song. Here's a video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q0DqPSF2fyo
Men at Work - Overkill
I caught an episode of Scrubs the other day in which Colin Hay appeared throughout the episode singing this song. It's always been my favorite Men at Work tune, and although the lyrics aren't necessarily elaborate, they are nonetheless very powerful...
I cant get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications
Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know will be alright
Perahaps its just my imagination
Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat, shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away
A look between the sheets
Only brings exasperation
Its time to walk the streets
Smell the desperation
But at least theres pretty lights
Although theres little variation
It nullifies the night
From overkill
Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat, shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away
Come back another day
I cant get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications
Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know will be alright
Its just overkill
Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat, shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away
Ghosts appear and fade away
Ghosts appear and fade away
I cant get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications
Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know will be alright
Perahaps its just my imagination
Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat, shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away
A look between the sheets
Only brings exasperation
Its time to walk the streets
Smell the desperation
But at least theres pretty lights
Although theres little variation
It nullifies the night
From overkill
Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat, shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away
Come back another day
I cant get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications
Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know will be alright
Its just overkill
Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat, shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away
Ghosts appear and fade away
Ghosts appear and fade away
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Widen that area of discussion
OK. Seems like me and Numbatoo Son are the only ones who appreciate really good lyrics. So...let's broaden the scope of the blog. Lets talk about songs, rifs, great guitarists, supergroups, little known music, soundtrack music from TV or films. Hell...ANYTHING to do with music!!
I have spent the entire morning, and the afternoon to present (2:23PM) listening to one of my jukebox CDs. It contains music from the mid 60's to the mid 70's. Over 200 songs. I started it about 8:30 and it's still playing.
In the past few songs, I have listened to The Four Tops, Bob Dylan, The Beach Boys, Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac (with Peter Green) and Quicksilver Messenger Service.
I could get by without my left nut or kidney, but I don't think I could without music. It truly does soothe the savage breast. (NOT Beast!!)
Contrary to what you may believe, I do like most of the music put forth by Numbatoo Son and The Peavy Kid. I'm going to link my Facebook and MySpace sites to the blog. Maybe that will create interest. If not, c'est la vie!
I have spent the entire morning, and the afternoon to present (2:23PM) listening to one of my jukebox CDs. It contains music from the mid 60's to the mid 70's. Over 200 songs. I started it about 8:30 and it's still playing.
In the past few songs, I have listened to The Four Tops, Bob Dylan, The Beach Boys, Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac (with Peter Green) and Quicksilver Messenger Service.
I could get by without my left nut or kidney, but I don't think I could without music. It truly does soothe the savage breast. (NOT Beast!!)
Contrary to what you may believe, I do like most of the music put forth by Numbatoo Son and The Peavy Kid. I'm going to link my Facebook and MySpace sites to the blog. Maybe that will create interest. If not, c'est la vie!
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Sunday Mornin' Coming Down
A little bonus. The linked YouTube performance was recorded at a Johnny Cash tribute. Johnny recorded the song and started Kris' mainstream road to fame. Some of us had already embraced his wisdom and lyrics as we listened to his first album in 1970.
The performance is by Kris and The Foo Fighters.
Kris Kristofferson. One hell of a songwriter. A Dylanesque voice that you either embrace or hate. In this one he captures that Sunday morning feeling that all of us have experienced. Maybe in college. Or when you were single. Divorced and between marriages. The morning after you passed out at a friend's apartment. The hangover-induced headache. The self pity. The lonesome desperation. "It echoed through the canyons like the disappearing dreams of yesterday."
The pitiful deal with God that you would never do it again.
"There ain't nothin' short of dying half as lonesome as the sound on the sleeping city sidewalks - Sunday morning coming down."
Sunday Morning Coming Down
Well I woke up Sunday morning,
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes,
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
An' I shaved my face and combed my hair,
An' stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.
I'd smoked my brain the night before,
On cigarettes and songs I'd been pickin'.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid,
Cussin' at a can that he was kicking.
Then I crossed the empty street,
'n caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken.
And it took me back to somethin',
That I'd lost somehow, somewhere along the way.
On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cos there's something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin',
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin' city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin' comin' down.
In the park I saw a daddy,
With a laughin' little girl who he was swingin'.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school,
And listened to the song they were singin'.
Then I headed back for home,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'.
And it echoed through the canyons,
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.
On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cos there's something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin',
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin' city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin' comin' down.
The performance is by Kris and The Foo Fighters.
Kris Kristofferson. One hell of a songwriter. A Dylanesque voice that you either embrace or hate. In this one he captures that Sunday morning feeling that all of us have experienced. Maybe in college. Or when you were single. Divorced and between marriages. The morning after you passed out at a friend's apartment. The hangover-induced headache. The self pity. The lonesome desperation. "It echoed through the canyons like the disappearing dreams of yesterday."
The pitiful deal with God that you would never do it again.
"There ain't nothin' short of dying half as lonesome as the sound on the sleeping city sidewalks - Sunday morning coming down."
Sunday Morning Coming Down
Well I woke up Sunday morning,
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes,
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
An' I shaved my face and combed my hair,
An' stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.
I'd smoked my brain the night before,
On cigarettes and songs I'd been pickin'.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid,
Cussin' at a can that he was kicking.
Then I crossed the empty street,
'n caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken.
And it took me back to somethin',
That I'd lost somehow, somewhere along the way.
On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cos there's something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin',
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin' city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin' comin' down.
In the park I saw a daddy,
With a laughin' little girl who he was swingin'.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school,
And listened to the song they were singin'.
Then I headed back for home,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'.
And it echoed through the canyons,
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.
On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cos there's something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin',
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin' city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin' comin' down.
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