Grace - Jeff Buckley

A piece I wrote on Jeff Buckley just got published yesterday in Open Letters Monthly, an arts and literature review.

Here's a few lines:

"The name Jeff Buckley conjures up grand ideas, stories of a rising star cut down in his prime, a cultural phenomenon revolving around a single groundbreaking release. Buckley has become to music what James Dean was to film - a man, larger than life, who was destined for greatness, only for fate to wrest him away too soon. The tale of a star with a famously absent father who also died too young, too soon, has become part of pop lore, projecting a portrait of anguish. Buckley’s life – and death – have created his image as a musician, surrounding him with an intricately woven cloak of wonder that he certainly never wished upon himself. The truth is that in making the legend bigger than the man we are losing one of modern music’s greatest legacies."

To read more, click here.

Memories in a bottle

Music has a remarkable way of holding on to tendrils of our subconscious selves, inextricably linking itself with experience and existence. It's funny how music becomes part of experience as well as part of the recollection of experience. I'm sure we all have particular experiences permanently associated with certain songs or artists or albums, and as an exercise in catharsis I thought I'd begin to share some of those experiences.

Now as a warning, neither the song I am about to discuss nor the experience it is linked to is particularly appreciable or even acknowledgeable, in the greater scheme of things. But to me it was a defining moment, and this song is forever marked with the events of a day back in high school.

Geek that I was (am?), I went on a little trip to Cleveland in 10th grade for a national medical competition. I had qualified for the spelling bee, and I have to say I was definitely looking forward to the trip and even more to the competition. All the qualifiers from the entire school district met up in the airport, and I discovered, to my great chagrin, that there were three girls and three guys. The inevitable pair-up was going to happen and I was definitely going to lose. And naturally that did happen, seeing as how one couple was already in existence, and I ended up being consistently left with the nerdy dungeons and dragons fellow who really didn't care to befriend me. I just wanted company, but ended up being left pretty much alone. In reality, that was okay with me, but it was high school, and that's just not how things work.

So here's getting to the point. The night after all the competitions were over, there was a dance. Chaperoned, of course, but a dance nonetheless. I begged for permission to stay in the hotel room and read a book, but permission was denied and I had to go to the dance. I had never been to any sort of dance before, thanks to my previously sheltered existence, and was therefore overwhelmed by the dim lights, loud music, and the crowd. I went and sat in a corner and was admonished by my teacher, told that I had to go and join the crowd or else. So there I was, thrown for a loop.

I joined the group that I knew and was promptly ignored, as was expected, and then came the song. 'Genie In a Bottle' by Christina Aguilera. One of the worst songs I know. Catchy, I know. But a work of art? Not by any stretch of the imagination. Well, that was the song that everyone enjoyed the most, and the one that proved to me, without a doubt, that there was just no place for me in this world of loud lights and flashy music. The other girls were on top of their game, slithering and slinking and being as genie-like and Christina-like as 16-year-olds could possibly be. I tried, for a few minutes, to be part of that, but just couldn't bring myself to it.

Now I've found my world, I've found my skin and I'm happy with it. But that song still fills me with a sense of inadequacy and - dare i say it? - shame and embarrassment. The reason I bring up this whole story is not to talk about Christina Aguilera or about high school drama. It is to show you how powerful music can be. I can't quite remember the faces of those girls that made me feel like I was so much less than them. I can't remember the names of the boys whose appreciation I also wanted. I can't remember the ballroom of the hotel very well, and I can't remember anything that happened in that trip except that I won that spelling bee and brought home a huge gold medal. But my mind hasn't forgotten that song and the power it has to make me feel all of those emotions again. Music is a powerful thing.

Series: Why "Anything but country music" is not an acceptable answer to "what kind of music do you like?": Vol.1

Growing up in Texas, I heard this phrase more than any other. You wouldn't think. But to be entirely honest, I did use it myself on occasion. I'm sure every single one of you has, as well.

"So... what kind of music do you listen to?"

It's probably the most important social question of our generation, the question that determines whether the conversation is going to go any further. So you certainly want to answer it with the best possible answer. You don't want to make any bad impressions. But you don't want to seem really close-minded. So what do you say?

"Oh, anything really. Except country. I don't listen to that. ~nervous snicker~ What about you?"

So after hearing it a couple million times, I started asking folks if they had actually heard any country music. Almost across the board, the answer was a resounding "no WAY!" Well, if that's the case, how do you know you don't like country? I think it's mostly that it's just not cool to like country, or even to listen to it long enough to actually make that decision in a valid manner.

I remember in eighth grade, I had to do a project for English class. We had to 'interview' a character from any of the short stories we had read and tape it. The catch was that the replies to the questions were supposed to be in the form of music, a clip from some song with relevant lyrics. Well, I didn't have any music to use. I didn't really listen to music. So I asked my dad what to do (I was in eighth grade, I really should have known better), and he found me some old country stuff that he used to listen to way back in the day. Well, I did my interview and I thought I did a great job, and I played it in class for everyone. Bad news. My teacher - not my classmates, my teacher - responded with "What the hell kind of music do you listen to?" Needless to say, I was mortified and started saying "Oh, I can't stand country music" if anyone ever asked.

The fact is, though, I actually liked that stuff. I know I'm not the only non-hillbilly who does. And I'm going to set people straight. It is cool to like country, as long as it's the cool kind of country. And I plan to show you people exactly what that is.

A short series of posts on great country, bluegrass and americana artists is coming up for your reading pleasure and of course for the edification of the general public. Hit me up with some recommendations and I promise I'll get on it. Keep your eyes peeled for the first of the series, on The Be Good Tanyas, coming up soon.

(Re)discovering Joni Mitchell

Writing a review about Joni Mitchell is like trying to rewrite Beauty and the Beast, but I just recently 'discovered' her. I figured there's no harm in sharing my opinion. Actually my first encounter with Mitchell's music was in the movie Love Actually, where Mitchell's music provides the 'emotional education' of one of the main characters. The song Both Sides Now provides the backdrop for a highly emotional sequence in the movie, lending an earthy touch to the otherwise sparse scene with Mitchell's round, space-filling voice.
Around the same time of my life, a friend told me that Blue was a must-hear album. I immediately got my hands on the album, excited for it, but - don't hate me for this - I couldn't really appreciate the album. Mitchell's voice was almost too heavy for me; I felt like I was being borne down under the weight of the music. But I gave her a chance again recently, after hearing a cover of Blue by Cat Power. I have to say, this time around she's managed to capture my fancy the way I expected her to the first time. Listening to her album, I'm realizing how many of her songs I've actually heard before, covered by other people. I had no idea. Of course there's Blue, But there are more. I've been listening to A Case of You sung by Cristina Branco for so long now, but never once realized that it was a cover of Mitchell's song. I heard Ritchie Havens' version of Woodstock, too, with no idea of where it came from. Now that I've 'discovered' Joni Mitchell, though, I haven't been able to change the album and listen to something else. Mitchell's voice, her lyrics, the instrumentation, the arrangement, everything has kind of captured my attention and entranced me.
I do have to say I'm not a huge fan of some of the more upbeat songs, like All I Want on Blue. I think Mitchell's style of singing as well as the timbre of her voice are better suited to the slow, melodic, pensive type of song. I do appreciate her versatility in singing, but I can't personally enjoy the more bouncy songs.
Both Sides Now and Blue are probably my favorite songs of Mitchell's right now. It might change, but the fullness of her voice and the depth of the emotion it convey are really worth listening to at least in recognition of the influence Mitchell's music has had on folk and pop music of today.
Mitchell also managed to deal with issues that women of her time could not really tackle on a general basis, like sexual freedoms. 'My Old Man' tells of the joys of cohabitation without marriage. 'We don't need no piece of paper from the City Hall,' she sings. She also deals openly with themes of solitude and loneliness. I think Mitchell's songs will definitely play a part in my own 'emotional education'.

A Good Man is Hard to Find - Sufjan Stevens - Seven Swans

i posted this a while back in another blog. i thought it might be nice to revisit and share it with this community of readers.

in an odd coincidental sequence of events, (i realize that's a bit of an oxymoron), I read a story by Flannery O'Connor called A Good Man is Hard to Find, and then heard a Sufjan Stevens song with the same title. I'm not quite sure if the song is based on the story, but i'm pretty sure it is. O'Connor's stories have a gruesomely realistic tone to them, where the worst that could happen happens, in the worst way it could have happened. Her language is dark, her themes are dark, her characters are self-righteously despicable. And yet, her stories are somehow appealing, gripping in an incomprehensible way. A Good Man is Hard to Find is a quintessential prototype of the blandly horrific stories O'Connor writes, a feeling-less story about a serial killer and his victims. When i read the story, it left me with a hollow feeling inside, neither pity nor sorrow. Just hollowness, emptiness. Revulsion of sorts, I suppose one could call it. But it seems that that is not what Stevens found in the story.
Stevens' song gives an impression of delicacy, a mellow retrospective fraught with pleasant nostalgia. He starts off with his usual harmonious guitar chords with a sweet rhythm. His breathy voice joins in, with not even a hint of murder or hatred or rancor. But on a closer listen, the phrase "when I killed them" rolls into the air, an insidious reminder of the repulsive, self-righteous amorality in the society O'Connor writes about.
This has been a sort of multi-dimensional experience of a story that made an impact on me through its complete lack of impact and its inability to produce emotion in me, turning into a song that moves me, a song about hell and remorse.
The experience is odd for me because I've heard the song many times before and never paid much mind to it. But now that I've read the story, the song has a new meaning, creates new images in my mind.
In the end, I suppose a good man is hard to find, but a good song - not so hard.

If you're interested, read the story and then hear the song.

Last Night I Dreamt of Mississippi - Nicolai Dunger - Late Nights with Turin Brakes

I came across Last Night I Dreamt of Mississippi by Nicolai Dunger on the compilation Late Nights with Turin Brakes. A pleasantly careworn song, sung with a nonchalant, sleepy attitude, it quickly ended up on my list of compulsively repeated songs. It starts off with a generally incomprehensible voice-over of an air hostess speaking right before takeoff, which actually has nothing to do with the rest of the song, it seems. The whole tone of the piece quickly changes with bluesy guitar chords and a catchy rhythm, which sound slightly hazy and drunk. Some unexpected notes here and there keep your attention until the fiddle starts up, with some lazy slides. The whole ensemble, even after the vocals start, has an almost trancelike cohesiveness, with very little countermelody or counterpoint. All the instrumentals follow almost the same trajectory, with Dunger's cigarette-and-Jack-Daniels-filled voice joining right in, making the whole thing sound smooth and round. Pictures of moonless nights in the rocking chair on the porch almost fill my head but then some vague sense of desperation kicks in. It could be a much more run-of-the-mill song but somehow manages to amaze with its transparency. I haven't heard anything else by Dunger, but I bet there's incredible stuff out there.

listen to the song here.

x-posted here and here.

and so it begins.

hi everyone-

this little project has been in the works for almost a year now - albeit only in my head. I think I was waiting for some sort of magnificent inspiration to strike, that was going to make me into a fabulous music blogger, an all-in-one last.fm/pitchfork/hype machine or something. I guess after waiting for so long, I've realized that this is more about my personal reflections on what a particular piece of music has been doing for me, rather than my ability to form a cult following or fan club, either for myself or for the music being discussed. So I'm going to dive straight into it, without careful consideration for whether or not I'm doing it the "right" way.

I think that talking about a particular artist or a particular album probably isn't the best way for me to express my thoughts about the music I enjoy. So I'll just talk about one song at a time, about what it says to me and how it makes me feel. I hope I'll be able to convey at least a little bit of the expanse of what goes inside my head when I hear a great piece of music.

I hope that you will all enjoy reading what I write, and I also hope that the music I love will find a few more fans. If I go delinquent on this at any point, feel free to harass me into writing again. And if anyone has any suggestions about music you've heard me rave about before, be sure to remind me that I have something good to write about.

Thanks and let's see where this goes!