First Vinyl Purchases

I'm in the midst of writing about my first record player as an adult, and it made me think back to the first things I remember buying on vinyl after I got it.

How about you? What'd you get?

PS My first real record purchase (as a kid, mind you) was...[hidden at bottom]













...Amy Grant's Age to Age.
     :)

The Indefatigable "Bass Butt"

The bass guitar is a beautiful thing. It centers songs that would otherwise fall apart, provides a sturdy foundation for the most intricate or chaotic of songs, maintains a sense of urgency, and keeps things moving along. In some songs it even provides the melody.

And, bass just feels good to play; the strings are substantial (there's no needle-like E string digging into your flesh), the neck and body are smooth and solid, and when you're playing you can feel your whole body become part of the rhythm of the music.

Tragically, bass players have been making themselves look uncool for years due to a condition The Slow Music Movement refers to as "Bass Butt."

Bass Butt |bās bət|: The act of a bass player keeping rhythm with their posterior and simultaneously attempting a dance move.

 

Example: "Oh my gosh, Becky, you can totally tell that Adam is doing some serious bass-butting in this picture."  

A sad remnant of the bass-butting Clayton once participated in.

Though he has largely overcome Bass Butt, Adam Clayton of U2 struggled with this condition early in his career. In the video below, Clayton, as many other self-taught bass-butters, fails to recognize his coolness quotient diminishing at an exponential rate.



At this time the only cure available for Bass Butt seems to be shame...and in Clayton's case, getting clean.


What can YOU do about Bass Butt?

If you are a bass player, practice in the mirror. Even if you can't come up with something better than the Bass Butt, you will have taken the first step in developing moves.

If you are a friend or family member of a bass player who suffers from Bass Butt, take a deep breath. Bass Butt does not threaten the musical ability of bass players, nor does it keep them from being cool when they are not engaged in bass-butting. TSSM does suggest you limit your Bass Butt-er to audio recordings until they've wiped the floor with their Bass Butt habit.

Together, we can eliminate the coolness-harming Bass Butt!


Next edition of Bassists Lacking Awesome Moves (BLAM): the Neck Swing

PS I love Adam Clayton

Year in Music - 2010

For the last four or five years I've documented the prior year of music listening on a mix CD, created every January. The rules I impose on myself:

-One song max. from each album, and one song max. from each artist. If I didn't follow the second part of that rule I would have an album full of New Order this year!
-Has to fit on one CD.
-Must mix well. I often end up with less than a CD's worth of material because of this rule.

There's no limitation on the year it was created; the song does not have to be from 2010.


2010 Brought the Goods! 15 Tracks o' Awesome

1. Converter- Helio Sequence B-side
This is a fantastic song. Thank you Record Store day 2010! It's a shame the world doesn't know more about Converter; this song motivates me to keep trying to make a difference. Take a listen.





2. With a Shout- U2 October
When I was gone for a month with YCEW high schoolers in Aguascalientes, Mexico, all I had was my 2GB iPod shuffle. It was filled with early U2 songs. Angela E. I get why October was (is?) your favorite U2 album. Took me a while, eh? :)





3. Stretch Out and Wait- The Smiths from The World Won't Listen

I've liked this song since I first attained Louder Than Bombs in high school. This is the version that has lyrics that start with

"All the lies that you make up/
What's at the back of your mind?/
Oh, your face I can see and it's desperately kind/
What's at the back of your mind ?"

Who can't relate to this song? And isn't Morrissey adorable in the picture below?

4. Suffer the Children- Tears for Fears, The Hurting
I know that everyone on the planet knows who this group is, but mostly for a couple of songs...and Tears for Fears deserve to be held up with all the best groups of the 80s. Also, as Ana Boyd can attest, they still got it! ;)

If you know/like them, listen to "Suffer the Children" again. Love the chorus of kids!





5. Kingdom- Working for a Nuclear Free City, Business Men & Ghosts
I found out about this Mancunian band listening to Pandora. Some great stuff on this two-disc collection. This was a song I found particularly appealing.





6. Many Moons- Janelle Monáe, Metropolis
A five foot, bundle of music GODDESS! Watch her live, that's all I've got to say. 





7. Appalachian Memories- Dolly Parton, Burlap and Satin
I have always liked Dolly, but 2010 marked the year of making a point to start buying her early music. Anything before 1977 is consistently great. Sadly, a lot of the songs she performed from then on were not so good...to put it mildly. Go listen to "Potential New Boyfriend" if you don't believe me. What I can deduce is that the songs others wrote for her were dreck, while her own songs (like this one and "A Gamble Either Way" from Burlap and Satin) were gems in the commercial garbage her music drowned in during the 80s.





8. Seal it With a Kiss (demo)- Grant Lee Phillips, Little Mono
Little Mono is a collection of demos for the album Little Moon. Only Grant would sing a line like "Now you know my loving is/ deadly serious." If you ever get the chance to see him live, you should. He's a great live performer with funny and endearing dialogue between songs. (Oh, and I SHOOK HIS HAND ONCE!)





9. Waka Waka (This Time for Africa)- Shakira, 2010 FIFA World Cup Theme
I sang this song in Mexico with wonderful Esther...I didn't know the Spanish version, she didn't know the English version, but BOY you should have heard us on the chorus!

10. 10 Mile Stereo- Beach House, Teen Dream
I really enjoyed this album, and it was hard to narrow it down to one song to include in my mix. A warm album with catchy melodies and a great singer. The Beach Boys have grand children, folks! (yeah!)





11. Take Me Over- Cut Copy first song released from Zonoscope
I pretty much live for Cut Copy. I'll be writing a whole entry about In Ghost Colours one of these days, and I'm loving Zonoscope. These guys have such charisma, love, and joie de vivre (French! Watch out multilinguists- what now!?)...and it's catching. Hands down, Cut Copy are the best live show I've ever seen...and that's saying a lot.  This song doesn't disappoint, it's just as catchy and warm and full of heart as any of their songs.

"Do you hear the voice inside your head/

Whispering to live your dreams instead?/

Some people cling to what they know/

But I woke up and now it's time to go"

PS I love Dan Whitford. Ryan knows and accepts this. :) 

PSPS Cut Copy are more grandchildren of the Beach Boys...but not related to Mike Love, thank you very much.

12. Tyrant Destroyed- Twin Shadow, Forget
Now here's an incredible find (thanks to Tutt and Ian for spreading the love to Ryan, and therefore me)! George Lewis, Jr. played every instrument on this album when he recorded it...the guy is amazing, especially considering that there's a lot going on in the songs, much of it pretty subtle. The whole album is great. The songs are catchy, moving, warm. Very 80s inspired, very now. HIGHLY recommended- the best album of 2010!





13. Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)- Arcade Fire, The Suburbs
I'm turning 30 this year. I'm at an age where I've seen a lot of people give up their dreams and ideals, give up on themselves. It's important to acknowledge the places we're not listening to ourselves, to nurture ourselves and stop listening to the people who tell us it's all over. Go you!

"They heard me singing and they told me to stop/

Quit these pretentious things and just punch the clock/

These days my life, I feel it has no purpose/

But late at night the feelings swim to the surface."

14. Heaven is 10 Zillion Light Years Away- Stevie Wonder, Fulfillingness' First Finale 
When I was making a mix for Ryan's birthday, I knew I had to add some Stevie Wonder. As I was listening to this album, "Heaven..." especially struck me. A beautiful song full of yearning and faith.

"Tell me people
Why can't they say that hate is 10 zillion light years away
Why can't the light of good shine God's love in every soul
Why must my color black make me a lesser man
I thought this world was made for every man
He loves us all, that's what my God tells me
And I say it's taken Him so long
'Cause we've got so far to come..."

And we are still traveling to that destination...





15. Face Up- New Order, Low-Life
Last year was the year of New Order re-issue listening. Low-Life might be my favorite...but I would hate to be forced into a decision. New Order is a band that can explore all shades, from dark to light, and sometimes the darkest and lightest at the same time. Need I mention "Ceremony"? How can that song make me feel so good when the lyrics are so horribly depressing? Also, Hooky is one of my favorite bassists of all time...nobody plays bass like he does. Melody bass, I tell you! Fantastic!

Face Up appeals to me because it makes me dance, it makes me happy, and it tells the world off with a swagger despite some prior, nebulous hurt or loss. This is perfect for where I work. Nothing is going to get me down! 

Grace

Just before the days when Napster's glory lit up the fiber-optics, BMG and Columbia House CD clubs were in full swing. I watched and waited for all the special deals, squeezing as many CDs as I could out of my summer job taking care of grade schoolers at Emerald Park. When a nine year-old kid stabbed me in the eye with his index finger as he spun on the merry-go-round, I could say to myself that the money I was earning would go directly into feeding my ravenous music appetite.

What those music clubs afforded me was discovery and experimentation in a time when there were no other options. MTV wasn't playing The Smiths and New Order, there wasn't an iTunes, and there was no way to hear a sample of a song online. If I heard a tune I liked in Some Kind of Wonderful or Pretty in Pink, I'd turn to the BMG catalog and figure out how to get it into my discman!

I found out about Jeff Buckley in a rather benign way. I read about Grace in the CD World insert in the Eugene Weekly, was intrigued by the review and the story of his death, but hearing nothing else dismissed him. The summer of 2000, the year of my high school graduation, was the summer I got a job working at Fred Meyer Photo Electronics. Most of you know this is significant because it's where I met Ryan. Yes, Mr. Crush was working there. In fact, it was in a conversation with Ryan that I was reminded again of Jeff Buckley and finally decided to get his album.

I think that conversation went something like this:

*     *     *

Photo-electronics, fluorescent lighting, black counter-tops, one-hour machine humming, the smell of chemicals.

I'm standing next to Register 1. "So Ryan, you're into music. What kind of music do you like?"

Ryan walks a few steps down towards the one-hour machine, files a film envelope in the correct drawer. I see him beginning to get a smirk on his face, and I can now identify that look as "I'm gonna lay a really good one on ya".  He says, "Good music."

*     *     *

I'm smiling right now as I read that last paragraph. Silly Ryan. Needless to say...

...Disintegration, Head on the Door, and Grace came in a cardboard mailer soon after. I walked back from the mailbox with a skip in my step, and a neighbor I'd played with since we were kid shappened to walk over to check out the cds I'd gotten. It was hard to know what to make of a song called Mojo Pin, and he and I laughed as we stood by my dad's beat up F-150.

The summer before leaving home, the summer of having my first customer-service job and meeting Ryan, was a summer of both withdrawing from and trying to connect with my family in our small house. On one hand, I'd lock myself in my bedroom-- plastered from floor to ceiling with pictures of musicians I loved-- to read, watch late night comedians and movies, and stay up as long as I could. On the other hand, I'd throw a new cd on in the living/dining room (the place to hang out in the house) to try to share the experience with everyone.

I remember throwing Grace on while I was sitting at the dining table. The most intimate, seductive voice rose up out of the stereo-- I could brush that off as not being too awkward-- but that voice wrapped my attention around itself like I was a scarf it could throw around its neck. "Mojo Pin" familiars will realize I was in for some serious noise and crescendo in a few seconds. I popped the cd out of the player, pushed my wooden chair back in to the table, and walked down the hall to my room. I'd just save that cd for later.

Much playing of Grace ensued. I didn't really understand the album immediately, or even necessarily love it...but I felt like I should keep listening til I got it. Pretty soon I couldn't bear to go a day without listening.

Before I left for college at Lewis & Clark, I sent the remote-controlled stereo I'd gotten when I had mono ahead of me via the mail. I did a week of service projects in Portland (through Lewis & Clark) before starting school in early September, and arrived to campus with the friends I'd made while doing a wide range of things from feeding the homeless to clearing invasive species from underbrush in a park. We'd slept in an old church in North Portland, snuck around in the pitch-dark playing sardines, and showered at the YMCA down the street. I remember stepping inside the entrance to my dorm complex with the whole group, wandering through the maze of halls to find my room. They cheered me on as I unlocked the door and found awaiting me the shipping box holding my stereo...I was home.

Of course the Grace cd came with me to Portland...but the music was accompanying me in every aspect of my life. One of the first friends I made was because I had cranked up Grace to an only-a-college-kid-in-a-dorm pitch; he came running into my room, eyes wide, exclaiming, "Are you playing Jeff Buckley??!!" and gave me a giant hug.

I found myself singing the opening to "Mojo Pin" while doing laundry in the pleasant acoustics of the basement. My journeys into record store land are marked by Jeff Buckley singles, my foray into vinyl by the purchase of a new copy of Mystery White Boy. When we had to do a project for my Blues class incorporating music we loved, it was Jeff without hesitation. Everyone knew I was the freshman that was obsessed with music. I was always so, but Jeff pushed me to another level.

This album occupied my poetry, my thoughts. What was so alluring?

Amidst the exhilaration of wandering downtown Portland every weekend in search of music, staying up all hours talking with new and wonderful people, learning what I wanted to learn, taking a poetry class, the freedom to do what I wanted when I wanted...I was sad.

My first roommate was never around, my best friend and eventual second roommate (after the first one moved out) was clinically depressed and dependent, I missed my family and pets and worried about my dog passing away while I was gone, and I was stupidly, inescapably missing Ryan. I felt like I wasn't connecting to anyone satisfactorily enough. Strangely, I didn't even realize that I was depressed at the time. 

Jeff Buckley's open arms welcomed me, I had (and even now) every nuance and note of that album memorized. Perhaps I was hearing some of the things that I couldn't articulate, some of the things I didn't know were inside my own head. He could sing with ferocity, with absolute honesty, about tenderness, partings, desperation, and somehow transcend it with hopefulness. His optimism seems so obvious to me. Here was a man who loved living but had no illusions about his own imperfection, the inevitability of parting, death.

With his music I could admit to feeling things nobody around me seemed to understand:

"But tonight you're on my mind so
(You'll never know)

I'm broken down and hungry for your love
With no way to feed it
Where are you tonight?"

-Lover, You Should've Come Over

And any time when the jaunty swagger was required, when I felt free and ready to take on the world, there were lines like this to be had:

"All I want to do is love everyone... 

There's no time for hatred, only questions...

And I've get a message for you and your twisted hell
You better turn around
And blow your kiss goodbye to life eternal, angel..."

-Eternal Life

This album has been cited by innumerable artists as influencing them, and deservedly so. It's not a perfect album, but perhaps the growing pains of Grace are like the growing pains so many of us know? Striving, reaching out, filled with yearning for what is lost, afraid of having our hearts crushed, and yet offering our hearts again and again. I want to keep living like this, to keep offering my heart.

What we must do is sing the songs of our loss, sing our fear and imperfection, and keep on loving.
"...Be the kind of person who is naturally powerful, positive, ingenious, open, to the highest degree, but with no interest in coersion or pressure or power over other people..."- JB

The Joshua Tree

I first heard a U2 song on the radio in 6th grade. I remember this very clearly: it was about midnight, I was cuddled in my blankets on my twin bed, and I had my brand new black Sony cassette stereo tuned to 104.7. I was waiting for something good to happen. On comes a little number-- I later discovered to be called Pride (In the Name of Love)-- with lyrics that are startlingly spiritual and vocal that's sincere and passionate. I have no idea who it is. At a sleepover later that year I mention the mysterious song to a friend, she crinkles her brow and dips her head, "That's U2." Was it ever cool to like them? I'll never know...I mean this was 1994 for goodness sakes.

1994-5 (7th grade) passes in the arms of The Cranberries, Erasure, and the Pet Shop Boys. I spend a lot of time appreciating dance music from the early 90s. I avoid Marilyn Manson. I try to find Christan music that doesn't stink (Plankeye was cool).

1996 rolls in, and my brother tapes me a copy of The Joshua Tree. If you pour through my tapes of music recorded off the radio, you'll see this isn't totally out of the blue-- I taped nearly all the singles from The Joshua Tree and Achtung, Baby (right alongside such lasting gems as "What is Love?" and "One Headlight").

It was very exciting to have an older brother out of the house and living in a co-op; I remember sitting in a bean-bag chair in Brendan's room, listening to The Joshua Tree, pouring over the lyrics booklet from the CD, and feeling like I was really onto something big, like I was stepping outside of time. I don't think it makes sense for a fall in Oregon, but I remember the sun shining through the window, casting light across the carpeted floor and onto my feet.

Nobody needs me to declare this album a classic. These songs light up the sky like the North Star for innumerable people. And yet...The Joshua Tree, familiar to millions, is stored in safe-keeping in my heart.

Some songs wrapped themselves around me like the green jacket I just couldn't stop wearing in 7th grade.

Some songs helped me understand what was going on inside my body, inside my heart.

"Where the Streets Have No Name" encouraged me to be fearless in my desire to know and be known.

"I want to tear down the walls
That hold me inside
I want to reach out
And touch the flame"

"Running to Stand Still" and "Bullet the Blue Sky" moved me beyond my limits of knowledge and understanding, forced me to ask questions, do research, think meta-cognitively.

"Exit" filled me to the brim with the love of poetry, the intensity of simplicity.

"He went deeper into black
Deeper into white
Could see the stars shining
Like nails in the night"

"Mothers of the Disappeared," born of compassion, was fittingly played during the aftermath of the Columbine shooting and entwined itself with my peers stolen from life.

"In the wind we hear their laughter
In the rain we see their tears
Hear their heartbeat
We hear their heartbeat"

Some songs greet me with their meaning in my adulthood, open new doors of understanding and welcome me in. "In God's Country" is a prime example of this. It has always been a particular favorite, one I felt I identified with but never understood why. I sensed eternity and mortality warring with each other inside that song, and the older I get the more I understand what that war means in each of our lives, the daily struggle of faith, hope, idealism, and the easy death that awaits them. I am sure I will revisit this song for further discussion.

"Set me alight
We'll punch a hole right through the night
Everyday the dreamers die
See what's on the other side"

Songs like "Bullet the Blue Sky", "One Tree Hill," and "In God's Country" challenge me to be more than I am now...to fight la lucha against injustice everywhere, to fight against the injustice here in America...

"Across the field you see the sky ripped open
See the rain through a gaping wound
Pounding on the women and children
Who run
Into the arms
Of America"

-Bullet the Blue Sky

 ...and my own human heart.

"I have spoke with the tongue of angels
I have held the hand of a devil
It was warm in the night
I was cold as a stone"

-I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

The passion of teenage-dom is a beautiful and intense thing, and I don't think it really ever goes away. Many adults find it naive to care about something with every fiber of being, honestly and truly, without irony.

"Love...slowly stripped away
Love...has seen its better day." 

- Red Hill Mining Town

The thing is, we adults tend to retain all of the pettiness of youth, and add bitterness-- sometimes mistakenly called pragmatism or realism-- to the mix. U2, and this album in particular, remind me of the vast landscape of pain, violence, desire, forgiveness...the aching of the earth to be perfected in a wash of love. The Joshua Tree started my journey into the great music of the 20th century, and I am thankful to return to it now as a touchstone in my adulthood; teenage Colleen would be pleased I remain resolute in my passion.

Put "With or Without" on the player and I'll still feel all the feelings of the teenage heart that beats on inside my chest. 

My Four Big Albums

Many songs and albums have grabbed me, changed me, made me want to live life better or differently. These songs have marked my life, retained emotional imprints of who I was when I heard them the first time, the hundreth time; they bring parts of me back to myself, push me beyond constructed limitations.

Four albums stand out from the beloved crowd that share space in my heart.

In chronological order of discovery:
The Joshua Tree- U2
Grace- Jeff Buckley
Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea- PJ Harvey
In Ghost Colours- Cut // Copy

I will be writing about each individually in the coming week.

Ode to Brian Wilson

This is a poem I worked on for quite a while...it fell apart about 2/3 of the way through the poem and I couldn't finish it...gah!


Old Soul

           

I can see you

the darkness curving around your child-body like a globe,

your transistor radio like a moon,

all those notes encircling you like stars.

As in some bedside fable about the sea

you swallowed the gigantic moon

and it sunk into the core of your being,

waiting for its service to the sun.

Your axis tilted to pearl notes and then you shone.

When your father saw you shining like a jewel

he was at your ear

and put you to work chipping at the glow,

throwing his mantle over you to cover up the truth.

Every eye was on you in the studio,

each day longer,

each day hotter.

One day the dry L.A. hills bore up smoke like testimony,

and you were sure you’d lit the hills like tinder

with sparks of sound from your teenage symphony.

You closed your hands around the reels

and ash dropped from your fists like sand.

 

***Here's where the poem gets bumpy and I couldn't quite work it out...so my latest, way cut back version is below***

The fire wasn’t your fault.

It consumed you

until your moon blazed

your fingers hollowed with the emptiness of aborted songs.

You still feel the gape where it used to reside,

I know.  But Brian, I still see the moon inside you,

and all that bright beauty of your starry seashore transistor notes.

fin

***Okay, here's my tortuous crap-that's-left-over version ***

How long could you keep your sun reflector from (searing/burning) a hole (right) through you?

The sounds began to rain from your fingers,

the piano drenched in a quintessence of light,

the sounds of re-creation.

The more you (bled/poured/showered) song, the more mirrors you became.

The fire wasn’t your fault.

It consumed you

until your moon burst into char and ash,

the specks and granules like a broken artery,

your fingers hollowed, the empty (spaces/wombs) of aborted songs.

You still feel the gape where it used to reside,

I know.  But Brian, I still see the moon inside you,

and all that bright beauty of your starry seashore transistor notes.

Louie (inspired by a blues class)

Louie

Poverty set the table with the blues,

what else was there to eat?

Worryin’ about the next meal,

every meal,

and mama whorrin’ herself out.

Couldn’t learn schoolin’,

Couldn’t waste time complainin’,

Couldn’t believe

Jelly Roll’s skeel-deetlin doo-wa-tee-doin ivories.

Pawnshop trumpet and lips that fit the mouth.

scat / deet / doo-da

that Heebie-Jeebie jazz tinglin’ voice flirtin’ with the air.

This man’s a cornet inside!

When he was in Chicago every breeze was a tune,

the lift and settle, breath and sigh, solo.

The trash on the flurries was that holy Dixie band

couldn’t find no place to live.

No gig too small! No gig too far! No gig where we won’t play!

if ya pay us ‘nuf to live on, this here horn ‘n me,

an maybe if ya don’t.

Music.

New York, Chicago, Harlem, New Orleans.

Ain’t gonna be Gabriel blowin’ that horn

A Sample of My Freshman Year in College

Why “Up” is the best REM record

 

         “Up,” while being the most mature sounding REM record to date, is also the most mature recording they’ve made lyrically.  While all the REM records have been socially and politically challenging—albums such as “Monster” explored sexuality as well as the distance between people while “Automatic for the People” explored the universal and emotional connections between people—“Up” probes a transcending spiritual freedom in spite of the mistakes and limitations of human character and reason.  It is a record that recognizes the physical, relational, and material boundaries of being human.  REM distinguishes, perhaps as a result of losing a band member, that though not all is right with the world, or even their world, there is more.  There is a freedom that despite what happens, despite what people do to you or what you may even do to yourself, you can be separate from it.  You can “walk unafraid,” free from internal pressure to conform, free from a need to impress others, or even to be recognized by them in a clear light.  There is more, there is something further up.
          Perhaps REM leaned into “Up,” hinted at with “Everybody Hurts,” a song that portrays the sadness that takes over individuals in the wake of failure or pain, whether that be relationally or otherwise.  “Up” follows in its footsteps in terms of the innate compassion of the record.  The characteristic irony still remains with lines like “the concrete broke your fall” from the song “Why Not Smile,” but there is an exposure of the soul of REM in way new to the group.  When Michael Stipe sings “I’ll trip, fall, pick myself up and/ walk unafraid/ I’ll be clumsy instead/ hold my love me or leave me/ high,” you know that he’s singing the song as much for himself as for those who will hear it.

         REM takes the listener on a journey from the guilty to the defiant to the peaceful and fulfilled ending.  While the world fires “into [its] own ranks,” Stipe sings “my actions make me beautiful/ and dignify the flesh,”  ending appropriately with the long, glorious notes “I am free/ free.”