Pete Lit

Elliott Smith

I listened to a lot of Elliott Smith over the weekend, including burning an retrospective disk for a friend. The brilliance of Smith's music and the tragedy of his life make such a compelling mixture that I can't help being drawn in, again and again. I didn't start listening to Smith until after his death, the shocking suddenness of which dove me back into the one song of his I owned, "Rose Parade", from an old CMJ Music Monthly sampler disc. I had never listened closely to the song before that, but after revisiting its near-perfect combination of melodicism, gritty street-level lyrics and pensive sadness, I was hooked.

After that I dabbled in a few free mp3s at the Paste magazine site, then bought either/or (with the proceeds of a check from, fittingly enough, a class-action lawsuit against the major record labels for price fixing), then got a burned copy of XO from a friend at my previous job, and finally received the posthumous collection From a Basement on the Hill and the utterly excellent Figure 8 as gifts. (I still haven't picked up the first two albums or the from-the-vaults collection New Moon, and I'm not sure if I ever will. The four albums that I own are so richly fulfilling that I don't feel much need to be a completist.)

For several years now I've had my eye on Matthew LeMay's XO, his short study of that album from Continuum's endlessly fascinating 33 1/3 series. I've never seen the book in person, but have had it on both my Powell's and Amazon wishlists, hoping someone would gift it to me. (I'm impossible to shop for, so when anyone asks I just point them to my wishlists.) But no luck there. So this afternoon, being a beautiful day in the city, I took a stroll over to Reckless Records on Madison to browse the short shelf of 33 1/3 books they stock. I didn't remember seeing XO during my previous visit, but this time, there it was. After paging through, it looked really good, and so I parted with some of my mad money (a small fund reserved for just such a small occasion) and bought it. The combination couldn't be more perfect: Reckless (whose Lakeview store I used to haunt for endless hours during my first city stint), literature and Elliott Smith. I almost couldn't not buy the book.

XO is probably my favorite Elliott Smith album. For me it perfectly bridges the gap between the indie-troubador strumming of either/or and the glorious power-pop of Figure 8, and beautifully encapsulates Smith's formidable artistic talent. I'm really looking forward to reading LeMay's book, preferably with the album playing on my iPod. And possibly a handkerchief to cry into.

Seam

At The L Magazine, Tobias Carroll's list of top (but unlikely) candidates for the deluxe reissue treatment is topped by one of my old favorites, Seam:

Hey, with Bitch Magnet, Temporary Residence has already reissued one of Sooyoung Park’s bands’ bodies of work. And Seam are a fantastically underrated band — over the course of three albums for Touch & Go, they did the anguished loud/quiet/loud thing better than almost anyone. But there’s also a host of music from them that’s now out of print: from their debut album Headsparks to their final single "Sukiyaki," also featuring a fine cover of David Bowie’s "Heroes."

The Problem With Me and Are You Driving Me Crazy? are both excellent, and highly recommended.

Chris Mars and drummer jokes

Replacements drummer (and later solo musician, now visual artist) Chris Mars is, somewhat perversely, an avid collector of "drummer jokes." His Bar/None bio includes some of them, including this favorite of mine:

Q: What is the last thing a drummer ever says to his band?
A: "Hey guys...how 'bout we try one of my songs?

His solo debut, Horseshoes and Hand Grenades, will always have a special place in my heart.

Stumbling over the Mats in downtown Joliet

Last Friday, while driving home from the train station, I was stopped in traffic waiting for a river drawbridge to reopen. It was a warm day and I had the window rolled down, as did the twentysomething guy in the next car. He was cranking his stereo, rocking out to a song that I had never heard, though the band sounded vaguely familiar. The singer reminded me of Paul Westerberg of the Replacements, but the song rocked harder and more raggedy than any of his solo work that I'm familiar with. I finally turned off my radio, trying to hear the song more clearly. The only words I could discern was the phrase "temptation eyes", which was repeated enough times to be, I hoped, its title.

So when I got home I googled "temptation eyes", with the top results being the 60s folk-rock band The Grass Roots, who apparently did the original. But I figured the raucous version I heard couldn't have been by that band, so I then scrolled down further in the results and found that the song had, indeed, been covered by the Replacements. It was a previously unreleased outtake from the Let It Be era, and was recently released as a bonus track on the reissued edition of that great album, which to my mind was the Replacements' best. Over the weekend I streamed the song several times on Grooveshark, and love it. Since I already own the original album, I'll probably download just the bonus tracks soon.

This discovery pleased me on two levels: one, to stumble on unknown songs from the heyday of one of my old favorite bands; and two, the fact that there's actually a young guy out there (probably not unlike myself at that same age) who rocks out to Mats outakes that are almost thirty years old. So there's still hope for today's youth. Thank you, Cass Street Bridge.

Irish March revisited

This month I'm once again reading nothing but Irish fiction, starting with William Trevor's Felicia's Journey. (I got a late start, not diving in until I finished my previous book. I might extend Irish March a week into April.) Though I love Trevor's prose, at forty pages into the book there's still mostly been backstory - I'm really ready for the narrative to finally move forward. After Trevor, I'll read either Anne Enright's The Gathering or Kevin Barry's City of Bohane.

And of course I've been listening heavily to my Pogues albums this week. Though I own their first four albums, only If I Should Fall From Grace With God has earned full-album-download status on my iPod, with just selected tracks from Peace and Love, Rum, Sodomy and the Lash and Red Roses for Me. Corned beef and cabbage is also on the menu at home tomorrow night, though I might skip the Guinness for some Two Brothers or Bell's that I already have in the fridge.

Greg Norton

Too weird: Former Hüsker Dü bassist Greg Norton celebrated his 53rd birthday last weekend in Chicago, at a show by local Hüsker Dü tribute band Hüsker Düdes. He's still rocking the curlicue moustache, isn't fond of Bob Mould's memoir ("Bob's book is a work of historical fiction.") and, to my surprise, is back in music - though hopefully with more congenial bandmates. Rock on, Greg.

February 15

Post-Valentine's blues? None for me, but if you have them, then commiserate with my favorite Valentine-aftermath songs: Billy Bragg's "Valentine's Day Is Over" (from The Peel Sessions) and the Crabs' "February 15th" (from What Were Flames Now Smolder).

You never forget your first.

It recently occurred to me how, with bands and musicians that I've discovered in their mid-career and later, it's the first album of theirs I hear that remains my long-term favorite. No matter how great their other albums are, it's the first that stays with me. The most prominent examples are R.E.M.'s "Reckoning", Sebadoh's "Bakesale", Lou Reed's "New York", Dumptruck's "Positively", the Replacements' "Pleased to Meet Me", Hüsker Dü's "Flip Your Wig", Built to Spill's "There's Nothing Wrong With Love", and the Mekons' "Rock and Roll." There must be some sort of mental imprinting going on. At mid-career or later, despite there already being a broad body of work to experience, it's the first-heard one that really sticks. When I've been listening to a band from the very beginning (like the Vulgar Boatmen, Uncle Tupelo and Vehicle Flips), it's more understandable that I would glom onto that first album and love it to death, especially with the band not yet having a second album to distract my attention.

The only major exceptions to this first-heard rule are the Pogues ("Peace and Love" was the first, "If I Should Fall From Grace With God" is the favorite), the Feelies ("Only Life" the first, "The Good Earth" the favorite) and Pavement ("Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain" the first, "Slanted and Enchanted" the favorite). Obviously not a hard-and-fast rule, but there still seems to be something to it, at least for me.

The Clean

I finally updated my Listening section over in the sidebar, with "In the Dreamlife You Need a Rubber Soul" by New Zealand legends The Clean. Not sure whether or not the title is a Beatles reference, though probably not, since the song isn't particularly Beatlesque. Regardless, good stuff. Enjoy.

Sometimes my iPod is a genius

Usually my iPod is an idiot. The shuffle mode is often baffling - from nearly 1,600 songs, it seems to get into ruts where it repeatedly serves up songs from an artist for which I only have one album. For months it was on a Little Walter kick, picking one of his songs from Confessin' the Blues every day or two while much better-represented artists would go weeks without being heard. And lately it seems fixated on the Finnish composer Jean Sibelius, again from just one album.

But on rare occasions the iPod's selections seem almost sublime. This morning it played, in order, Television's "Guiding Light", Galaxie 500's "Way Up High" and Yo La Tengo's "Pablo and Andrea." Television to Galaxie 500 to Yo La Tengo - such a wonderfully natural progression, almost perfect. Okay, so the Velvet Underground would have been a better fit than Television, but still, this is a dumb machine we're talking about here. I remain impressed with the choice of that troika of bands, even though I'm sure the iPod will be baffling me again soon.

"Halloween Parade"

Yesterday I finished the second draft of my new story collection, Where Once the Marshland Came to Flower. Though the title is a nod to a line to Nelson Algren's Chicago: City on the Make (each story is set in a different Chicago neighborhood), the impetus to my collection was a single line ("and some crack team from Washington Heights") from Lou Reed's "Halloween Parade." That line came to mind one morning five years ago as my train approached the Washington Heights station on Chicago's South Side, and as it stuck with me I began to imagine a collection of Chicago stories, with each inspired by a song from Reed's New York album. The book would never have existed without Lou, and particularly that great album, and even more particularly that memorable song. So in Lou's honor, here's the song:

Lou Reed, "Halloween Parade"

Southern boys just like you and me

By now the word has gotten around that R.E.M. is breaking up, after 31 long and mostly fruitful years together. I'll readily admit that the band hasn't been a constant in my life, as my tastes and theirs have shifted here and there, and that they haven't made an album that's meant much to me since Automatic for the People, which came out in 1992. Still, they were a big part of my college years, though only intermittently since then. But I'm still staggered by the shimmering brilliance of the first three albums (Chronic Town, Murmur and Reckoning), and if no album of theirs has totally floored me after that, each had several songs that lodged in my brain and wouldn't budge, even now. I'm very glad that the band is going out on its own terms, and has the good sense to realize that it's the right time. I'll be forever grateful to them, and many of their songs, from "You Are the Everything" to "Gardening at Night" to "King of Birds" to "Perfect Circle", will always be with me.

So farewell, gentlemen. Rest, reflect, and take your time figuring out what comes next. Because there will certainly be a next for each of you, if not all together. But meanwhile, stroll through your garden, smell the roses, and count every one of those hundred million birds.

"Lights"

This is simply lovely: Mark Olson and Gary Louris (of the Jayhawks) and Victoria Williams performing "Lights."

Hornby and Springsteen

At my friend Tim Hall's webzine Undie Press, Mark Cashion discusses putting together a chapbook that weds the lyrics of Bruce Springsteen's "Thunder Road" and Nick Hornby's essay (from his Songbook) about the song. This installment is Part 1 of 2 (with the conclusion coming next month) and though it ends on a downer, a quick look back at the opening sentence implies that everything turned out just fine. Hurray. And Hornby sounds even cooler than I had imagined.

(Spoiler Alert: Here's the full story. Double Spoiler Alert: Apparently copies may still be available. But as much as I love Nick Hornby and that song, $60 is just too rich for my blood.)

Phil Alvin, Unsung Stories

July 4th always gets me thinking about American music, which yesterday had me delving into old Blasters videos on YouTube (including, of course, "American Music"). Which then lead me to looking on iTunes, just for the hell of it and expecting to find nothing, for Phil Alvin's first solo album, Unsung Stories. The album has never been released on CD - it came out in 1986, or just before the era when all new releases automatically came out on CD. (My guess is that the album probably didn't sell particularly well, and Warner Brothers simply cut its losses and didn't bother with a CD release.) I've owned the vinyl LP since around 1988 and have always loved it, enough to seriously consider digitizing it in recent years since I figured the record company would never do so.

Imagine my thrill, then, to actually find Unsung Stories on iTunes yesterday! Within seconds I was bopping along to "Someone Stole Gabriel's Horn", singing all the lyrics by heart despite not having listened to the LP in years. The album is a terrific slice of Americana, with Alvin reinterpreting a great bunch of old standards with backing by the Dirty Dozen Brass Band (on "Someone Stole Gabriel's Horn"), Sun Ra and the Arkestra (on several tunes, including the fantastic "Old Man of the Mountain"), various members of the Blasters, as well as several solo-guitar tunes and an acapella version of "Death in the Morning" with gospel singer backup. The joy and energy that Alvin brings to these dusty old songs makes this album an absolute delight, and one which I can't recommend any more highly. Do check it out.

"Hitler reacts to Metallica recording with Lou Reed"

Beauty. Favorite line: "And I own White Light/White Heat."

(Via Boing Boing.)

The Mountain Goats

As much as I love that Elliott Smith cover of George Harrison's "Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth)" that was over in the sidebar, it was there for over a year and needed to be replaced. So now it's the mysterious, haunting "Your Belgian Things" by the Mountain Goats, from a 2004 radio session on KEXP.

I just read a pretty wonderful piece at The Atlantic by tMG's John Darnielle about the genesis of the song "Dance Music" that I highly recommend. "So this is what the volume knob's for" - wow.

Dubious record reviews from Archive.org

Following on my lost stories discovery yesterday at Internet Archive, I made three more unexpected finds. During the late 1990s I wrote three record reviews for Green Mountain Music Review, a one-man shop operated by the mysterious J. Laramie. Sometime this century the site disappeared, and even the Google webpage cache brought nothing, and I feared the reviews were lost - I didn't even have a hard copy, having written them on an office computer from two employers ago. Have no fear, Internet Archive to the rescue:

The Outnumbered, Surveying the Damage
Various Artists, Suburbia (soundtrack)
Various Artists, The Lounge Ax Defense and Relocation Compact Disc

I had a lot of fun writing record reviews back in the day, and even toyed with launching my own music site (dubbed Hearing Voices, after the Galaxie 500 song), which I created a beta version of but never launched. Seeing the reviews is a pleasant glimpse back at the person I used to be. And still am, to some extent - after reading that review again, I might even burn some Suburbia tunes on to my iPod, where Outnumbered and Lounge Ax tunes already reside.

Lyric

The only thing I want that shines
Is to be king, there in your eyes
To be your only shiny thing

- Tom Waits, "Shiny Things"

John Darnielle, the once and future author

John Darnielle of The Mountain Goats (one of my favorite songwriters, and whose best songs are perfect little fictions in themselves) talks about his not-so-forthcoming debut novel.

The other main difference between making Mountain Goats albums and writing a book for Darnielle seems to be the pace. An astoundingly sharp and prolific songwriter, Darnielle is finding it far more difficult to wrap up his second literary production.

"I'm working on it really slowly, and at this point, I expect to finish it when I'm 80 or something because I'm being really meticulous about revising it and am really ambitious about it," he explains.

I've already marked this down on my to-read list...for 2147. I'll be 82 then, and hope I'll still be coherent enough to read it. His 33 1/3 book Master Of Reality remains on my wishlist, despite my ignorance of almost all things Sabbath.

(Via Largehearted Boy.)

What I listened to on my way to work today

The iPod shuffle-played the following for my walk from train to office...

Giant Sand, "Fields of Green"
Terrific song (admired recently here) that has me seriously considering getting reacquainted with Howe Gelb's eccentric genius. In other words, I'm thinking of buying my first Giant Sand album since 1994.

Yo La Tengo, "(Straight Down To) The Bitter End"
Second-best song on Electr-O-Pura, after the gorgeous "Pablo and Andrea."

Scruffy the Cat, "Bus Named Desire"
From the band's final album, Moons of Jupiter, which in retrospect seems like a stab at commercial success for the band (produced by Jim Dickinson, it's significantly smoother than Tiny Days, my favorite of theirs). Sadly, that success eluded them, and they broke up shortly afterward.

Tom Waits, "2:19"
Waits gutbucket blues at its finest, from Orphans. Fortunately the title refers only to a train, and not to the song's running time - two minutes and nineteen seconds would be cruelly brief for a song this rich.

"So I’ve kind of pulled a John Lennon house-husband thing."

Magnet Magazine has an interesting interview with lo-fi icon F.M. Cornog, who performs under the nom de band East River Pipe. Sounds like he's my kind of guy.

How is fatherhood treating you?
It's good. But this is why it's taken so, so long to put out a record. When you have a kid, you can’t do whatever you used to do. I don't want to feel guilty or have her harbor any resentment against me. Like, "Dad was always doing music up there in his room with his stupid mini studio. That was always more important than I was." So I've kind of pulled a John Lennon house-husband thing. Although I'm still working at Home Depot, it's turned the music thing into kinda like a guerilla-war operation. I kinda peck, peck, and then I run away. Then I come back and peck, peck, peck again. Plant a few explosives on the railway, blow 'em up, then retreat into the woods.

Well, at least the Nazis haven't found you yet.
I used to have hours and hours and hours of uninterrupted time when I was in Queens and in the early years when I came out here, around the time of Gasoline Age. But ever since then I haven't had those long, long periods of time. You know, I like to be present for my family, my wife and my daughter, and spend time with them. I still love doing the music, but it really comes, I would say, second or third now. Maybe when she gets older and gets sick of me and doesn't want me around I can get back into it again.

My writing comes second or third, too, for the same reason.

Brrrrrr

During weather like this, I always think of these lines from the Pogues' "Fairytale of New York":

They've got cars big as bars
They've got rivers of gold
But the wind blows right through you
It's no place for the old

Walking north from my train wasn't too bad this morning, but when I briefly turned west, the wind all but "blew right through me." I could swear I felt my forehead start to freeze solid. Thank goodness I could turn north again after only one block. In this weather, Chicago's no place for the old. Or the young either.

Five Eight

Recently I was quite pleased to see The Angriest Man, the 1993 album from Athens, Georgia band Five Eight, finally turn up on iTunes. Fifteen years ago I taped the excellent leadoff track, "My Sister Is So Strange", from a radio broadcast and have enjoyed it ever since. I downloaded the song to have a digital copy (I was never able to find the album on CD) and now realize I'll probably download the rest of the album too. The band has a new album, Your God Is Dead to Me Now, coming out on March 29, and the title track is quite good (including what is certainly the best whistling on a rock song since Peter Bjorn and John's "Young Folks") and suggests that the band hasn't lost a thing since I first stumbled across them.

Hallelujah!

New Feelies album coming April 12! MP3 of "Should Be Gone" already available! Aging non-hipster swoons over band he didn't fully appreciate the first time around!

Richard Thompson, "1952 Vincent Black Lightning"

To me, the very best song lyrics are both poetic and tell a story. And one of the finest examples of this is Richard Thompson's "1952 Vincent Black Lightning". While Thompson's guitar work here is typically wonderful, what really makes the song great are the lyrics:

Says Red Molly to James, That's a fine motorbike
A girl could feel special on any such a like
Says James to Red Molly, My hat's off to you
That's a Vincent Black Lightning 1952
And I've seen you at the corners and cafes, it seems
Red hair and black leather, my favorite color scheme
And he pulled around behind
And down to Box Hill they'd ride

Says James to Red Molly, Here's a ring for your right hand
But I tell you in earnest, I'm a dangerous man
For I've fought with the law since I was seventeen
I robbed many a man to get my Vincent machine
Now I'm twenty-one years, I might make twenty-two
And I don't mind dying but for the love of you
And if fate should break my stride
Then I'll give you my Vincent to ride

Come down, come down Red Molly, called Sargeant McRae
For we've taken young James Agee for armed robbery
Shotgun blast in his chest left nothing inside
Come down, Red Molly, to his dying bedside
When she came to the hospital there wasn't much left
He was running out of road, he was running out of breath
But he smiled to see her cry
He says, I'll give you my Vincent to ride

Says James, In my opinion there's nothing in this world
Beats a '52 Vincent and a red-headed girl
Now, Nortons and Indians and Grieveses won't do
They don't have a soul like Vincent '52
He reached for her hand and he slipped her the keys
Said, I've no further use for these
I see angels and ariels in leather and chrome
Swooping down from heaven to carry me home
And he gave her one last kiss and died
And he gave her his Vincent to ride

Song of the Day

Yesterday in the car, Maddie was whistling what I think was this very song. Obviously it's one that's commonly associated with the circus, but it occurred to me that I had no idea of either the title or composer. Then this morning, not even 30 seconds of websearch revealed it's "Entry of the Gladiators" by Julius Fučík. I love you, Internet. (Or, as Julie and I like to joke, "Thank you, Al Gore!")

Dumptruck, "Walk Into Mirrors"

Live 1986 recording, from the band's basement rehearsal space. Interesting to hear this great song stripped down, without the Don Dixon studio production sheen. Mind you, I've always loved that sheen, but this is a refreshing alternative.

Listening: Giant Sand

Giant Sand: "Fields of Green"

Terrific return to form from Howe Gelb's Giant Sand, from the forthcoming Blurry Blue Mountain on Fire Records. Gelb ponders aging and losing one's heroes to shuffling, subdued instrumentation. Giant Sand was one of my favorite bands during the early 1990s, when I was mesmerized by the albums Giant Sandwich, Long Stem Rant and Swerve, but though I loved loved loved the first three songs on 1994's Glum, I was sorely disappointed that the rest of the album deteriorated into aimless self-indulgence. Then after Joey Burns and John Convertino - one of the best rhythm sections around - left the band to make Calexico their full-time gig, I mostly lost track of Giant Sand. But "Fields of Green" has suddenly revived my interest, and I'll probably be reacquainting myself with Gelb's eccentric vision very soon.

Tony and the Nevilles

I first knew Tony Fitzpatrick as a poet, specifically for Bum Town, his book-length ode to his beloved hometown of Chicago. It wasn't until after I read (and loved) that book that I realized Fitzpatrick is even better known as a visual artist, specializing in collage pieces that draw heavily on Chicago history and also incorporate his own vast collection of matchbook covers and other ephemera.

I follow Tony on Facebook and noticed his recent status update in which he mentioned that he happened to be working (that is, creating an artwork) while cranking the Neville Brothers at high volume. I slowly began to consider how much Tony's work reminded me of New Orleans folk art and then, prompted by that status update, I fetched from my shelf the Nevilles' Yellow Moon, a terrific album that I hadn't listened to in quite a while. As I glanced at the lovely cover art (shown above), I was struck by how much it resembled Tony's work. So I checked the liner notes, and there it was: "Cover Illustration: Tony Fitzpatrick." One of my favorite artists, and a favorite album, intimately and unexpectedly linked. Quite the serendipitous moment.

Just what the world needs, another...

Over at the Two Dollar Radio blog, Grace Krilanovich has some kind thoughts on bass players, both in general (" Guileless, a little bit mysterious, endearingly dorky; if they know what’s best for them they’ll be lurking in the shadows next to the drummer.") and the dual-bass band Dos of Mike Watt and Kira Roessler ("It’s a small music, origins stained with grief, and maybe a kind of romance too.")

If I was in a band (a big stretch, since I don't play any musical instruments) I'd definitely be the bass player. I don't have the pipes to be the singer or the charisma to be guitarist, and the coordination required to have three or four limbs operating independently yet still in sync that's required of a drummer is far beyond me. But I could probably (eventually) master playing the same bass chords over and over again, though I'd never be more than competent, nowhere near the league of Watt, Flea or Entwistle.

That subject line comes from a college-era memory that always gives me a chuckle. One of the record stores in Champaign, Record Swap, had a stairwell that was always plastered with flyers, primarily of musicians looking for bands, or vice versa. The one flyer that I remember best was from a bass player looking for a band, which had "BASS PLAYER" in bold letters and a picture of Jimi Hendrix. But the guy also added, in a wonderful bit of self-deprecation, several other words and a dialogue balloon, so that it looked like Hendrix was saying "Just what the world needs, another...BASS PLAYER." Priceless. If I had a band back then, I would have hired that guy on the spot.

Epitonic returns!

This is wonderful news. When we went suburban in 2000 and I inevitably drifted away from my earlier indie rock mania, Epitonic helped keep me at least marginally current in my listening. Most of the music that I first discovered during the Aughts - especially Ted Leo, M. Ward and Death Cab For Cutie - was via Epitonic. I'm not sure I'll embrace the site quite like before - it was basically my soundtrack while I worked from home for a few years, and I can't stream audio or download at my current job - but it will still be nice to have it back when I need a fix.

Ted Leo goes Broadway

Ted Leo And The Pharmacists -
"Bottled In Cork" (Official Video)
from Ted Leo and the Pharmacists

Beauty. Favorite line: "He died because he didn't believe in the power of punk."

Howlin' Wolf, "Smokestack Lightnin'"

Howlin' Wolf, 1965. This man was the absolute epitome of cool. I just found out that I missed the centenary of his birth - June 10, 1910, so sharing this vintage video is my way of rectifying my oversight. This song is a bit strange - Wolf identifies it as "Smokestack Lightning" and the instrumentation and melody are definitely that song, but the lyrics are different, sounding more akin to "Mystery Train."

David Masciotra

David Masciotra is a local guy (grew up in Lansing, went to college in Joliet and is now a grad student at Valparaiso) who has written the intriguing Working On a Dream: The Progressive Political Vision of Bruce Springsteen. Right now he's doing a blog tour to promote the book, with his first stop at Big Other this past Monday and upcoming stops here at Pete Lit (probably next week), What To Wear During an Orange Alert? and Mel Bosworth's blog, among others. He's also doing a reading tomorrow at Revolution Books (1103 N. Ashland Ave. in Chicago) at 7 p.m.

I haven't read the book yet but have heard nothing but good things about it, so it's definitely on my list. I've long been an admirer of Springsteen (I even owned his Nebraska LP in high school) if not an actual fan - I might have become one were it not for my freshman year roommate in college, who was not only a Springsteen fanatic but also a grade-A prick whom I genuinely hated. Every time I think of Springsteen I can't help also thinking of my roommate, whose memory will forever taint my impressions of the artist. I know that's not a rational reason to not embrace Springsteen during the past 25 years, but that's just how I am. Maybe Masciotra's book will draw me back into the fold.

Elliott Smith, "Independence Day"

One last July 4th reference here, from one of my favorite musicians. His voice is a bit ragged and he struggles to hit the higher notes, but still a great song.

That sound you hear is my jaw hitting the floor

Sure, I realize it's spread over three days, but dear gawd what a lineup.

Tournament of Tunes: Yo La Tengo vs. Lou Reed

Yo La Tengo, "Sudden Organ"
vs.
Lou Reed, "Last Great American Whale"

Interesting that these two bands would face each other, given what an obvious musical debt Yo La Tengo owes to Reed's Velvet Underground. Yes, of course dozen of bands owe that debt, but Yo La Tengo (especially in its earlier days) owes more than most.

"Sudden Organ" is somewhat of a musical departure for Yo La Tengo. James McNew forgoes his bass guitar completely, switching over to keyboards where he creates an eerie, droning figure that underpins the melody (like a bass does) and even gives the song its title. But the band's other distinctive elements - Ira Kaplan's moody tenor vocals and sharp guitar, Georgia Hubley's tom-tomming, Moe Tucker-ish drumming - are all here. The song doesn't really jump out at you, but is somehow still very effective. A solid song from what remains my favorite Yo La Tengo album.

What I love most about Lou Reed's New York is its directness - the bluntness of the lyrics ("I'll take Manhattan in a garbage bag with Latin written on it that says 'It's hard to give a shit these days'", "the Statue of Bigotry", etc.) and the in-your-face instrumentation. Unfortunately, "Last Great American Whale" is the least direct song on the album, both lyrically and instrumentally. The lyrics are highly metaphorical, telling a story that despite countless listenings I've never really been able to follow. Reed's vocals are subdued, with little of the emotional fire that marks his best work. And the instrumentation is barely even there - mostly a single guitar line and basic drumbeat. Narrative 2

While it has its intriguing moments, "Last Great American Whale" is just too much of a departure - lyrically, vocally, instrumentally - from Reed's greatest work. Though it's hard for me to knock out any song from New York, this one is probably my least favorite on the album. So I'm going with "Sudden Organ."

Winner: Yo La Tengo, "Sudden Organ"

Tournament of Tunes: A Plea for Forgiveness

I've been sorely remiss in keeping current with my latest Tournament of Tunes. Even in its abbreviated 16-song format I've totally let it slide, not posting any results for the past six weeks. I'm now vowing to not only resume the competition but to speed things up considerably, posting two or three of the remaining matches each week. So the tournament hereby resumes today, with Yo La Tengo taking on Lou Reed.

Roger Waters' Dick Move

Roger Waters once created a concept album called The Wall. Fine - it was a good album in its day. But its day was over thirty years ago, and yet Waters continues to flog it instead of creating something new and vital. Fine - this is a capitalist and democratic society, so Waters is free to bleed dry the unfortunate millions of fans who still care about Pink Floyd.

But now, in hyping the album yet again, his minions have defaced a beloved memorial to the infinitely greater Elliott Smith. Which would be bad enough, but in "apologizing", he has the audacity to claim that Smith - who Waters admits knowing almost nothing about - would have supported the idea. The Chicago Reader's Miles Raymer nails it:

This is, I think it's fair to say, a dick move: making assumptions about how a dead man you've never met and are only vaguely aware even existed might feel about having a memorial to his untimely death defaced by an ad campaign, and even implying that he would have given a thumbs-up to the campaign itself.

It's truly an unfair world when an underappreciated genius like Elliott Smith leaves us, while an over-the-hill, multi-millionaire, karaoke-machine d-bag like Roger Waters lives on.

Ben Folds

Julie and I used to regularly go to concerts back in our city-resident, pre-parenthood days: Bad Religion, Matthew Sweet, Archers of Loaf and Built to Spill (the best double bill I've ever seen), Seam and Versus, Yo La Tengo. But moving to the suburbs and becoming parents has made us more domesticated, and we hadn't seen a show for over ten years. But last night, in a belated celebration of her birthday (which was in February), we rectified that by seeing Ben Folds at the Vic Theatre. Ben is a longtime favorite of ours (in fact, we once saw him during his Ben Folds Five era, at Park West) who is one of the few artists that either of us has kept up with over the years.

Last night he delivered a great show, totally solo, which I enjoyed more than the Ben Folds Five show with full band. The latter was more bombastic and theatrical (albeit tongue-in-cheek, as he mocked numerous arena rock cliches) whereas solo he seemed more intimate (with charmingly funny banter between songs) and more focused on the music. He played songs from throughout his career, including many I hadn't heard before. (He admirably refrained from doing "Brick" which is still his best-known song and one that I love, but is probably one he's grown tired of performing.) Two highlights for me were "Philosophy" (still beloved after all these years) and "Still Fighting It" (as a dad, the line "you're so much like me...I'm sorry" has particular relevance for me) but pretty much every song was great. He's also really into the whole acapella thing too, concluding the show by stepping away from the piano and directing the audience in a three- or four-part harmony. Terrific music, terrific showmanship. Check out Ben Folds when you get the chance.

Two other highlights from our evening: an unexpected detour to our favorite restaurant, Rose Angelis, for dinner, where I throughly enjoyed my old standby rotini alla puttanseca and Julie had a marvelous special of pear-stuffed ravioli; and the discovery of another used bookstore, Gallery Bookstore, which I'm sure we'll be returning to soon.

All in all, a great evening.

Tournament of Tunes: The Minutemen vs. Tom Waits

The Minutemen, "Corona"
vs.
Tom Waits, "Never Let Go"

I love what "Corona" says about the Minutemen. Despite generally being known as a hardcore punk band, they were much more than that, moving effortlessly into other realms, including funk, free jazz and straightforward rock, and with "Corona" they showed how far they were willing to push the envelope. As I mentioned earlier, the song is cowboy hoedown music (or, as Allmusic.com suggests, "neo-Norteña polka"), and I enjoy imagining the reaction (likely, offended) of the L.A. hardcore crowd to the song back in the band's heyday. Sure, the band's more open-minded fans would have loved it, but the zealots probably resented the departure from the party line. (I'd also love to know what the zealots thought of the Van Halen and Steely Dan covers alongside "Corona" on Double Nickels on the Dime.) This song is a statement of artistic freedom, and quite a fun one at that.

"Never Let Go" shows the softer side of Tom Waits. For most of his career he's adopted the persona of a ragged boho troubador, sometimes slightly deranged, other times wistful and melancholy. The instrumentation here is quite lovely, starting with a simple piano figure that is joined by subdued strings and a mournful accordian, all underpinned by a moderate martial drumbeat and of course Waits' marvelously evocative growl of a voice. The tune is nothing short of majestic, and one of my very favorites of my admittedly limited knowledge of Waits' oeuvre.

"Corona" is great, but "Never Let Go" is greater. In what is very much a battle of the titans, Waits ekes out a decision and moves ahead to the semi-finals.

Winner: Tom Waits, "Never Let Go"

Tournament of Tunes: Sebadoh vs. R.E.M.

Sebadoh, "Got It"
vs.
R.E.M., "West of the Fields"

I think Bakesale is the album on which Jason Loewenstein first hit his artistic stride. On the previous Sebadoh album, Bubble and Scrape (a wonder in its own right), he seemed like the new kid on the block, cautiously occupying the middle ground between Lou Barlow's sensitive lyricism and Eric Gaffney's sonic anarchy. On that album, Loewenstein sometimes sounds like Barlow, sometimes like Gaffney. But by the time of Bakesale, Gaffney had left and Loewenstein stepped to the forefront (admittedly a secondary forefront, as Sebadoh was always Barlow's band), and "Got It" is a prime example of what he's musically capable of.

Musically - that is, instruments and vocals - I love "West of the Fields." There's Stipe's lonely wail of a voice, of course, but also the brisk, driving rythym, Peter Buck's guitar work and the backing vocals of Mike Mills in the chorus. But though the title has a nice evocative quality - what, exactly, is to be found west of the fields? - the rest of the lyrics are either too undiscernable or vague to convincingly back up the title. And it's not just a case of early-period R.E.M. and its penchant for lyrical obscurity. Many other songs on the great Murmur, especially "Shaking Through" and "Sitting Still", are equally as inscrutable and yet have some sort of emotive quality that never fails to imbed the songs deep into my soul. In short, I don't really connect with "West of the Fields" as much as I do to most of the rest of the album.

Hard to believe that tunes from neither Slanted & Enchanted nor Murmur will go no further than this round, but that's precisely what's happening here. "Got It" advances.

Winner: Sebadoh, "Got It"

Tournament of Tunes: Dumptruck vs. Pavement

Dumptruck, "Autumn Light"
vs.
Pavement, "Perfume-V"

The narrator of "Autumn Light" is paralyzed by stasis. He lives a dissolute and likely meaningless life, and though well-meaning friends urge him to "get out of here" and try to change for the better, still he sits and does nothing. While he realizes that doing nothing and simply waiting around for change will lead nowhere, still he sits, questioning his (ex-?) lover for her abandoning of everything she's started - as if he's some sort of beacon of perserverance - and wondering where he would go and what he would do next in the unlikely event that he attempted a move. Some unsettling questions indeed.

Narrative is very hard to follow in Pavement songs, that is, if there's any narrative there in the first place. Part of that is due to the lo-fi production, which mostly buries the vocals and gives them no more sonic prominence than, say, the bass, and part of it is Steve Malkmus' lazy vocal delivery. But like early R.E.M., it's likely that even if Pavement's lyrics could be discerned they still might not be comprehensible. Malkmus, like Michael Stipe, might just be willfully vague.

Though it's impossible to deny the sonic thrill of "Perfume-V", its lyrics are just vague enough to keep me from fully engaging with the song. But the lyrics of "Autumn Light" draw me into the narrator's plight, and even if I don't particularly admire what I see there I still find the experience compelling. And because of that, Dumptruck moves on to the semifinals.

Winner: Dumptruck, "Autumn Light"

Tournament of Tunes: First Round Update

The first round of the 2010 Tournament of Tunes has now ended, with Dumptruck, Pavement, Sebadoh, R.E.M., The Minutemen, Tom Waits, Yo La Tengo and Lou Reed all advancing. Interesting how many big names are there (with the exception of the comparatively unknown Dumptruck) which I suppose is due to the smaller 16-song field. With 64 songs there would have been more entries, a greater variety of artists and potential for major upsets, though there would have also been strong potential for my abandoning the entire contest only halfway through.

To whet your appetite for the next round, I considered handicapping the field, but given that I'm the sole arbiter, that might prematurely reveal who I'm leaning toward and thus eliminate much of the reader's suspense. So instead I'll simply list which year each artist first entered my record collection in full-album form, which you're welcome to interpret any way you like.

R.E.M.: 1986
Dumptruck: 1989
Lou Reed: 1989
Yo La Tengo: 1992
Pavement: 1994
Sebadoh: 1994
Tom Waits: 1996
The Minutemen: 2007

I'm taking the rest of this week off to recharge my judicial batteries, and will resume with the Dumptruck-Pavement contest on Monday. Stay tuned.

Tournament of Tunes: Joel R.L. Phelps and the Downer Trio vs. Lou Reed

Joel R.L. Phelps and the Downer Trio, "From Up Here"
vs.
Lou Reed, "Last Great American Whale"

Joel R.L. Phelps is one of my favorite musicians - a sharp guitarist, skilled songwriter and idiosyncratic singer. He first got my attention as part of Silkworm, the band which he co-founded before leaving in the mid-nineties for a solo career. His solo work is considerably lower-key than the more raucous Silkworm, but he rocks out as much as he needs to, though he generally sticks to slower, quieter, more moody material. "From Up Here" is from the most recent Downer Trio release, Customs, which came and went without much public notice. A shame, given what a memorable record it is. The song is minimalist, with drums sticking to a metronomic 1-2-3-4 beat, bass and acoustic guitar playing straight chords with occasional lead guitar flourishes, and lyrics told from the perspective of a soldier. (An interesting narrative turn, as the album's theme is anti-war.) But though I admire the song, I would have liked a little more fire here. The song simmers without ever boiling over; Phelps restrains his caterwaul of a voice. The emotion and passion of Phelps' best work is still there, though mostly held in check.

It's hard for me to speak objectively about Lou Reed. And even harder for me to say anything about his long, high-profile, iconic career that hasn't been said hundreds of times already. I'm a longtime admirer, of both the Velvet Underground but especially his solo work (interesting as it is, the VU was just a bit too avant-garde for me to fully embrace) and this song comes from my favorite album of his, New York. The 1989 album is a manifesto, screed and selective survey of his home city which combines sympathy for the downtrodden with righteous scorn for the indifferent figures who hold power - all of it set to muscular musical backing of two guitars, bass and drums, and of course Reed's timeless sing-speak vocals. "Last Great American Whale" is one of the quieter songs, with lyrics which are an odd blend of plainspoken rant (about environmental degradation) and abstract metaphor (about an Indian chief, a whale, a racist kid, an errant-shooting NRA member - all of which might also be about the environment, though I can't say for sure).

I'd love to advance Joel Phelps to the next round - if just to give him a small sliver of the public recognition he deserves but has mostly been denied - but his song just doesn't completely light my fire. And all of New York has been burning in my head, out of control, for more than twenty years.

Winner: Lou Reed, "Last Great American Whale"

Tournament of Tunes: Yo La Tengo vs. Kevin Salem

Yo La Tengo, "Sudden Organ"
vs.
Kevin Salem, "Will"

Yo La Tengo was probably my favorite band during the 1990s, after discovering them in 1992. But for whatever reason they lost me around the time of their 2000 release, And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out, an atmospheric, almost ambient departure from their previous, more guitar-based work which I loved at first before drifting away from. And as I drifted from the album, I drifted from the band as well. Which is a shame, because they put out some really great tunes during the nineties that I still greatly enjoy, "Sudden Organ" (from Painful) being one of them. The song has such a great vibe - insistent guitar, droning keyboards instead of bass, low-tuned tomtom drums - that makes it easy to love. 

Kevin Salem has garnered some accolades as a producer (of albums by Giant Sand, Freedy Johnston, Madder Rose and many others), side musician (he replaced Kirk Swan as guitarist in Dumptruck) and occasional solo artist. "Will" is from his debut album Soma City and is the best song to be found there. A pounding drumline and loud guitars (louder than most of the other songs on this fairly subdued record) make for a very vigorous sound that mostly covers up Salem's limited vocals. The lyrical message is terrific - a man pledging his eternal friendship and even love to a woman who seems to have spurned him for someone else.

"Will" is a real rouser, but I have to give the nod to Yo La Tengo.

Winner: Yo La Tengo, "Sudden Organ"

Tournament of Tunes: Tom Waits vs. Morphine

Tom Waits, "Never Let Go"
vs.
Morphine, "You Look Like Rain"

Despite the length of his career - pushing 40 years now - Tom Waits isn't well-represented in my collection - just Orphans, Swordfishtrombones and a handful of mp3s from later albums. But, wow, is Orphans a great collection, which more than makes up for the lack of quantity I own of his work. Sure, an artist of Waits' immense talents will inevitably have some absolute gems spread over the course of a three-disc set like this, but the quality level here is astounding, especially on the the ballad-heavy first disc (referred to as "Bawlers"). "Never Let Go" is simply gorgeous, much more stately and majestic than you might otherwise expect from this often-ragged troubador. A great song.

"You Look Like Rain" was just the second Morphine song I ever heard, on the great community radio station WEFT in Champaign, Illinois during the early 1990s. Although I enjoyed the song's sultry, low-key vibe from the start, it's telling that I never saved it to one of the mixtapes I was so fond of compiling back then. (Which I did do with the first Morphine tune I ever heard, "The Other Side", also from WEFT.) In fact, though I was already a fan then of Mark Sandman from his Treat Her Right days, those two songs didn't compel me to seek out Morphine's debut album, Good, on which they appeared, with the band not knocking me over and winning my heart forever until their second release, Cure For Pain. So my initial hesitation foreshadows my current muted reaction to "You Look Like Rain." Sure I like the song - there's only a few Morphine songs that I don't like - but it's just a bit too subdued to completely win me over. Sandman sings barely above a whisper, and Dana Colley's sax isn't much louder.

I own every Morphine studio album, and the band is one of my absolute favorites. (I'm even writing a novel about an obsessive, overly-empathetic Morphine fan.) But I have to admit that "You Look Like Rain" just doesn't have the kick of the band's very best material, and certainly can't touch this Tom Waits tune.

Winner: Tom Waits, "Never Let Go"

Tournament of Tunes: The Minutemen vs. Red Red Meat

The Minutemen, "Corona"
vs.
Red Red Meat, "Gauze"

Though often referred to as a hardcore band, the Minutemen were musically so much more than that, throwing funk, classic rock and even folk into the mix. "Corona" is a great example, as it's practically hoedown music, with a brisk backbeat that I could easily imagine cowboys two-stepping to - and, yes, it's about that brand of beer. For the band the song is very straightforward, with none of the stop-and-start that so many of their other songs have. If you're never heard the Minutemen but the song sounds vaguely familiar, that's because it was used as the theme song for the old MTV show Jackass. A loveable gem (the song, that is, not Jackass).

After the major label feeding frenzy had mostly devoured Seattle after the Nirvana breakthrough, the music industry gazed longingly at other cities across the country, wondering which would be the next big "scene." In 1993 one of those cities was thought to be Chicago, which had plenty of buzz thanks to Smashing Pumpkins (Siamese Dream), Liz Phair (Exile in Guyville) and Urge Overkill (Saturation). After that inital surge began to wane, many held hope for a so-called "second wave" of Chicago bands to pick up the slack, one of which was this band, Red Red Meat. Ultimately, however, Chicago did not prove to be the next big thing (the Pumpkins stayed big, of course, but Phair and UO couldn't sustain their promise, and in retrospect probably too much was expected commercially of the second wave) and the industry's focus moved elsewhere. Which is a shame, because Red Red Meat put out some pretty solid (albeit not commercial) stuff back then. "Gauze" is languid and richly-textured, over five minutes long, with weary vocals that are evocative but mostly unintelligble (the only word I can pick out in the entire song is the first one, "medicated"), and impressive overall.

I like both songs quite a bit, but I'm going with the snappier "Corona."

Winner: The Minutemen, "Corona"

Tournament of Tunes: Teenage Fanclub vs. R.E.M.

Teenage Fanclub, "Catholic Education"
vs.
R.E.M., "West of the Fields"

Any doubts about how random the iPod's shuffle play is can now be put to rest. Though I have only five Teenage Fanclub songs on there (out of more than a thousand), up comes this one. I've always admired this song for its propulsive, shambling, crisply-strummed instrumentation, though on further inspection the song is actually pretty slight, particularly the lyrics which consist entirely of "You wanna turn your back on everything/you wanna turn your back on everyone/well I try." The song predates the harmony-laden power pop that the band would become best known for, and which I strongly prefer to this song. (Also, it's curious that the iPod served up this song on the same day that Alex Chilton died, as his band Big Star was a huge influence on Teenage Fanclub.)

"West of the Fields" is the closer to R.E.M.'s full-length debut Murmur. Hearing it right after the sonic bluster of "Catholic Education" makes "West" seem pretty subdued, but it's actually rousing compared to the exquisite but fairly low-key songs that precede it on the album. Michael Stipe's lead vocals are in typical early-career form, imparting more emotion than actual discernable words, and I particularly love how he and Mike Mills alternate phrases in the chorus. A solid effort, though admittedly not among my favorites on this great album.

Had the Teenage Fanclub song been "Star Sign" this would have been much closer, but I can't go against R.E.M.

Winner: R.E.M. "West of the Fields"