So, you know how sometimes, you need a song to put on when you are feeling sorry for yourself? I love to announce when I’m feeling sorry for myself, as just saying that out loud is so ridiculous that I always feel at least a teeny bit better. King Floyd’s “Groove Me” is a go-to song for when I have the blues. It is so funky, so dance-inducing that by the end of the song, I typically feel about ready to take on the rest of the day. (I also love that his name is written on his hat.)
Easy Oldies
Like kissing a good kisser you have kissed before, we can never get enough of these songs.
King Floyd “Groove Me”
Bonnie Raitt “Not The Only One”
I have some confessions to make. Let’s start from the beginning:
Confession #1: When I was 11, I started stealing CDs from my parents.
Confession #2: When I was 12, I put grapefruit juice in my favorite teacher’s coffee.
Confession # 3: When I was 13, I started babysitting and I spent all my money at the record shop, and I still stole CDs from my parents.
Confession #4: When I was 14, my brothers took really long showers, so I routinely threw buckets of cold water over the top of the shower door.
Confession #5: When I was 15, I stole Electric Flag’s album Long Time Comin’ from my Dad. I am not sure if it is the guilt or the gut wrenching impact of the album that still haunts me.
Confession #6: When I was 16, I forged a doctors signature on my physical, so I could play on the girl’s high school soccer team.
Confession #7: When I was 26, I fully embraced the digital age, and I bought my own hard drive. The drive was soon complete, as I loaded it up with my purchased music library. I even learnt how to Amazon, iTunes, and Google, and I still stole CDs from my parents.
Confession #8: When I was 27, I wished with all my heart that Sarah Palin would just disappear. [It’s evil, I know, that’s why I am confessing].
Confession #9: When I was two weeks younger than I am today, I stole my Mum’s Best of Bonnie Raitt on Capitol CD; even though, software had advanced rapidly, and I learnt how to Pandora, Grooveshark, and Spotify, I still took the CD.
Confession #10: Now I have had Bonnie Raitt on loop in the car, non-stop for two weeks, and I’ve been in disbelief over how many beautifully badass songs she has in her catalog. Today “Not The Only One” was resonating in my core. The hipster meter in the car was pointing to “No-No-No” with the tree chimes just 0:01 seconds in, but I was captured by everything from the atmosphere to the broad soulfulness; and I confess, I was blown away.
Freddie Hubbard “Backlash”
Well, we are in the middle of the typical September, back-to-school heat wave. Rolling blackouts included. And just when things should be gearing up, the mind and body feels oppressingly slow under all the atmospheric pressure. I’m looking for something that’s cool, but it has to have a little spice to get me going. Forget lyrics, there’s not enough bandwidth available to process them. I’m closing in on Freddie Hubbard’s “Backlash” and it’s kickin’ the cold heat up in my brain. As the jazzers out there may already know, “Backlash” is the title track to Hubbard’s album Backlash, which debuted the famous and now-standard “Little Sunflower.” I’m sorry, in my book “Backlash” has so much more spank on it than “Little Sunflower” — it is not even comparable. In moments like this, I wish we could re-write music history: “Backlash” would be the standard enthusiasts requested, pianist Albert Dailey’s comping would be the backup bar, bassist Bob Cunningham’s and drummer Otis Ray Appleton’s pocket would be what every player emulated, and Hubbard’s first solo would be the one aspiring trumpeters always transcribed.
Ludwig van Beethoven “Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61”
I was running yesterday—well, really I was walking, but I was dressed like I was running ‘cause I am a poser like that—and Robert Gupta’s 2010 TED talk “Music is medicine, music is sanity” queued itself up on my iPod play list. I was making the turn from Salt Creek to Strands (see photo) during one of those beautiful, little, Late Summer swells (yes, Lillie, surfers are pretty cool) and amidst all this the TED lecture captured my attention. I’m going to paraphrase my favorite concept that Gupta drives home in his talk: When we make music, we take the emotions that exist within all of us and put them through the artistic lens and turn those emotions into reality. “And the reality of that expression reaches all of us, and moves us, inspires and unites us.”
In this lecture, Gupta tells the compelling story of Nathaniel Anthony Ayers who suffers from major schizophrenic episodes, but is a musical genius and when he is engaged in music he temporarily departs from his disorder. Side note: Nathaniel’s story is the inspiration for the movie The Soloist. PS. I have not seen it. In Gupta’s TED lecture he describes the first music lesson he gave Nathaniel: Nathaniel was calmed and brought into the present moment when Gupta played him part of Beethoven’s Violin Concerto. I can just imagine the intensity of that room when Nathaniel went from crazy to calmly spellbound.
In town a few nights back, I ran into my friend Justin and he asked me what I thought of classical music. The question took me by surprise. I was nowhere near in the headspace for a real conversation about classical music, largely because over Justin’s left shoulder I was watching two of my favorite buddies troll for girls. The two were entertaining, but lamely distracted I was from Justin’s earnest question. Check it, I get lamer: I was simultaneously suspect about where Justin was coming from with the question. Suspect? Justin is insanely smart. I thought it was a test or a loaded question, and that I was too slow to catch what it was loaded with. I know! It was one of those moments, not there, not dialed in, in my head, on another planet or something. Anyway, instead of answering him with a list of my favorite pieces or experiences like I should have, I regurgitated to him my most recent thought about classical music and it went like so: I have this weird feeling that the nameless-magical-unseen-minister-of-culture has been trying to save classical music with architecture by building glitzy concert halls all over the place, but (to me) it just seems cheaper, less elitist, and more effective to simply educate the kids. Justin looked at me blankly. He paused for a moment before he dialed me in, then he went on a beautiful 20-minute, highly-passionate monologue about how amazing it is that music written hundreds of years ago can truly move us today. Beethoven’s “Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61” was written in 1806! Justin did not stop talking once he finally had my attention. “Classical music can bring someone to desperate tears. It can give someone utter joy. It moves me in my gut. It takes me there. Forever ago. ”
Robert Gupta is right. Nathaniel Anthony Ayers is right. Justin is right. This stuff is powerful. I wonder why the majority of popular culture skips over it? I agree, the soundtrack to two of my friends out on the town and trolling for girls should be MGMT’s “Electric Feel.” But what about the morning drive, and cleaning the house, and blissfully picnicking in the grass at the park, and indulging in bottomless sorrow after a breakup? Why in those moments do most of us choose soundtracks that are rarely of the classical kind?
Average White Band “Work To Do”
It is 6:45 am and you are in bed, just basking in the afterglow of an unmentionable event. Your partner in crime is pestering you to blow the day off (well, at least until 11:30 when he has his first meeting of the day). But you have to get up. You have to go. You may want to stay with his lazy ass (conveniently for him, until he has somewhere he needs to be), but it’s just not part of your reality. He does not want to understand and is not supportive in any way when you make a move for the shower. In fact, he throws you creative roadblocks. You did not even know he could be that creative! For crying out loud, the staff meeting is at 8am. What is he trying to do? Get you fired? Well, next time he pulls this fast one on you, roll over and scroll through the play list menu till you get to the Average White Band’s “Work To Do”, press play, turn it up, laugh as hard as your body will let you, daydream for a moment about how psychologically twisted Funk’s crack at Punk’s angst is, and then head for the shower. Or, if you want to get really subtle and weird with it, play the newer instrumental version. Nah, go big, 1974 record cut only.
Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs “Wooly Bully”
When we were kids Mum and Dad would take us out on the road with Dad’s bands. All three of us, under the age of 8, neatly packed in the back of a tour van. Sometimes for months at a time! Yes, my parents could be filed in the Totally Crazy folder, but you can also put a Best Ever tag on them. A key fact here is that we were in Australia, where there are endless hours and mostly days between destination cities. So, when the only thing out the window is deserted desert, what do you do with three little kids on the road for days at a time? You record them singing on the van’s tape deck and play it back to them on fast-forward over and over and over again. Then you sit back and watch them giggle incessantly. This never got old and we knew we were way cooler than Alvin and the Chipmonks. Now, I always wonder if I project this memory when I hear the “Wooly Bully” count off — or if it is simply the inherent effect of the bouncing sax and the jamming organ that makes me so happy? Yeh, it’s on loop. So what? It’s Rock and Roll, biznatch.
Jucifer “Vulture Story”
I’m probably the last person you would ever expect to tout a metal band. I like pretty things. Hugh Grant movies, chintz sofas, toile wallpaper. But every now and then, you need some loud music to help get you through. Obama needs something seriously thumping in his Ipod right now. The debt crisis time frame calls for adrenaline producing music, not The Pearl by Brian Eno and Harold Budd. The hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life was preparing for my PhD oral exams. I had to read a book a day for several months and two a day for the last few weeks to prepare to be drilled by three incredibly smart Professors on any topic from any of those books. Maybe this doesn’t sound scary, but it was terrifying. I sprouted two gray hairs and barely slept for months. Even ambien couldn’t knock me out. So instead, I embraced the insomnia and Jucifer, self-described as a “two- person sonic destruction since 1993.” I lived on the Range (badass University of Virginia graduate housing) with walls so thick, I could blast music and no one could really hear. Three years later, I found myself about to go on a date for the first time since we had our baby five weeks ago. I needed some Jucifer to get me pumped up. It did the trick and got me out the door. And I only cried twice. (The picture is of me listening to Jucifer at 3 am the month I passed the exam and started dating my husband.)
Joni Mitchell “A Case of You”
True confession: the first time I ever heard ‘A Case of You’ was in the movie ‘Practical Magic.’ Nicole Kidman was driving down the interstate belting along with the song. Joni Mitchell‘s biggest fan, also known as my mother, would have a heart attack if she knew this. She would feel that she’d let me down as a parent. au contraire. I remember plenty of Joni, Bob and Kate from my childhood. I was thinking about this ‘Practical Magic’ scene when I saw the movie ‘The Kids Are Alright.’ The movie is alright except for this awful scene where Mark Ruffalo’s character is bonding with Annette Benning’s over Joni Mitchell. It was embarrassing and hard to watch. so cheesy and lame. Mostly because acting like it is miraculous that two people know and are moved by the lyrics to a joni mitchell song is ridiculous. Every single person who would pay to see a movie with those actors already thinks (rightly so) that Blue is the best joni album and know every word to all her songs. So, sad to say, ‘Practical Magic’ beat out ‘The Kids Are Alright’ for best Joni Mitchell song cameo in a movie.
Otis Redding & Carla Thomas “Tramp”
I think I have been getting off on this song since I was 11. “Well I tell you one dog-gone thing. It makes me feel good to know one thing. I know I’m a lover.” I have a good chuckle when I think about it’s super-good-vibe jabs, they just may put modern-day rousting to shame. Not to mention, the pocket is very deep on this one. If you are not laughing and wanting to side-step into the chorus by 1 minute and 49 seconds in, then you just might not be a lover.
Gordon Lightfoot “Sundown”
I thought about “Sundown” by Gordon Lightfoot today. I have not leaned on this song for ages, but I used to have it on loop most days of the week. In fact, my iTunes says it has 3,243 plays on my computer and I don’t think that counts the plays on my phone, or ipod, or the CD that used to be on repeat in the car. At three minutes, thirty-six seconds, that’s about 196 hours of Sundown on the computer alone. Maybe I was addicted? Mr. Mead had a little intervention with me about it way back and I decided to wean myself off of it. Well, anyway, today I went there and the love was still strong; like Gordon had never left, and like I had never broken his heart. It was really nice.