Guided By Voices’ difficult yet well-executed 1994 album, Bee Thousand.
Summer school starts next week, and I’m teaching seventh and eighth grade math. I anticipate it’ll be a busy June.
With this week off between the end of the school year and the beginning of summer school, I’ve watched my son and listened to a ton of music. Fueled by our purchase of tickets to see Guided By Voices in September, making a mix CD of Pollard-related tunes and a friend finding a lot of 36 Guided By Voices-related CD’s for $60 on the internet, much of this listening has been to Guided By Voices, Robert Pollard and Boston Spaceships. I’m kind of a nerd, but Pollard can deliver a killer pop hook when he wants to. He’s also quite the wordsmith, when he puts his mind to it.
Anyway, I know you want the goods, so here goes.
“Something to Say” – The Action (Rolled Gold | Parasol | 2002)
“Brain” – The Action (Rolled Gold | Parasol | 2002)
“Somebody Made for Me” – Emitt Rhodes (Emitt Rhodes | Dunhill | 1970)
When I get in a musical rut, it sucks for everyone in my life. I’ve been listening to a Nick Drake album every night before bed for the past two weeks. (I think Pink Moon has narrowly beat out Bryter Layter, but that’s probably because it’s a quieter album, more suitable for bedtime listening.) I’ve also found Gary Murray’s music chill and perfect for Ian’s early morning feedings.
At any rate, I’ve been so busy. No time to write much of an introduction this week, so just enjoy the music.
“Horn” – Nick Drake (Pink Moon / Island / 1972)
“Things Behind the Sun” – Nick Drake (Pink Moon / Island / 1972)
“Could This Be True” – LN (Plum Brook / Velvet Blue Music / 1999)
“This is How I Feel” – Derri Daugherty (Clouds Echo in Blue / Galaxy 21 / 2012)
“Cure for This” – Golden Smog (Another Fine Day / Lost Highway / 2006)
“Origins” – Tennis (Young and Old / Fat Possum / 2012)
I can still remember the day I coerced Tim into buying his first Miles Davis album. We were visiting Earwaxx Records, and I showed him to a couple crates in the back filled with 60′s and 70′s jazz records. Most were marginal efforts by washed-up cats trying to make a go at the easy listening market, but I had found a few gems. One such gem was Bitches Brew, Miles’ head-first dive into fusion and tape edits and manipulation. The double album was only $12, and I knew my friend needed it.
Several records sit next to Tim’s turntable. It gives a peek into what he’s recently played or, like the radio stations of yore, his heavy rotation. While the stack always changes, one constant remains: Bitches Brew. He told me he has to listen to it once a week. (He listens to it so much, in fact, that he bought another copy!)
It probably didn’t take you 101 episodes to realize I’m excited to help others discover an artist. I’m especially happy when it’s a jazz artist. See, anxiety seems to mount when the discussion turns from post-punk (or whatever I’m blathering about at the time) to jazz. It’s almost as if jazz is a menu at an Ethiopian restaurant: no one knows what he’s ordering, and no one knows what to do with it once it arrives.
I certainly get people’s trepidation; jazz can be heady. In the 20 years after World War II, virtually all big bands went the way of the dinosaur. Small combos took their place, allowing artist-composers freedom to write more complex tunes. Eventually, jazz became polarized. Either the artists played free or they boasted in their ability to improve in a certain mode and in a time signature in opposition to the rhythm section. Either extreme scares off most of my friends.
But it doesn’t have to be this way, and I think Miles Davis’ work proves this. He could be, at once, complex and accessible. The problem with his vast catalog is knowing where to start. Hopefully I can give you a few starting points this week. Enjoy.
“Circle” – Miles Davis Quintet (Miles Smiles | Columbia | 1967)
“Milestones” – Miles Davis (Milestones | Columbia | 1958)
“Miles Runs the Voodoo Down” – Miles Davis (Bitches Brew | Columbia | 1970)
“Prelude (Part One)” – Miles Davis (Agharta | Columbia | 1975)
The city of Raytown is holding its annual clean up day on May 5 from 8:00am-3:00pm at Super Splash. Not only is this a great opportunity to get rid of your junk, but it’s also a great chance volunteer for a worthwhile cause. (As always, if you have unwanted psychedelic rock or jazz fusion records, do not take them to this clean-up day. Please set them on my patio.) The city has posted a flyer with the details here.
Also, Mid-Continent Public Library and Cintas are holding a shred event on April 27 from 1:00-5:00pm. I broke my friend’s shredder, so a box in my garage has been filling up with papers to shred. Oh yeah, this service is free. And yes, I’m going to post a link where you can find more information for this event, as well.
Cover image from Blue Trapeze's first album, Who Were You Then?
I love jangly college rock from the 1980′s. These bands usually invoke classic 1960′s psychedelia of The Byrds or The Velvet Underground, but with the immediacy of punk. These bands were also crucial to creative music’s development, as they helped carve out the college rock niche (which would later be called alternative or indie). While not necessarily a themed show, I play several songs in this episode that belong in the canon of eighties college rock.
The last song I play this week is from Chris M. Short’s compilation, On the 45: A Compilation of Obscure-to-Semi-Obscure Power Pop/Punk/New Wave. It’s a mind-blowing collection of songs he compiled from his personal collection of obscure 45s. It’s free, so download it now.
At any rate, enjoy the show.
“It’s Only Obvious” – The Orchids (Air Balloon Road | Sarah Records | 1990)
Last month, my co-workers voted me as the Support Staff Employee Of the Year (SSEOY) in our school. This has allowed me to throw my proverbial hat in the ring for the district-wide SSEOY award. It’s tempting to merely view the process as tooting my horn: collecting three letters of recommendation, writing an essay about my educational impact and then, next week, interviewing before a panel.
Working on my essay regarding my educational impact served as the impetus for much thought on the paradoxical topic of recognition. We all want to be recognized, but we don’t necessarily want the spotlight on us. When the principal announced that the staff had voted for me, it led me to a conversation about humility with my student. He’s in eighth grade, so I’m sure he’s never really given the topic much thought. The conversation found me paraphrasing C.S. Lewis: humility isn’t merely thinking of yourself a little bit, it’s not thinking of yourself at all.
I received some attention from friends and acquaintances when I posted my fiftieth episode, so I expect I may get notifications or mentions in social networks for my hundredth show this week. I’ve been trying to formulate a response besides an obligatory “thank you for listening,” but nothing sincere quite comes to mind. I guess it’s because this show is, in part, an exercise in narcissism. But this show is also about sharing my love of music with you all, my fellow discerning lovers of music.
I have a large collection and knowledge of music, but it’s no good if it doesn’t benefit others. I am always excited to hear that folks have learned about a band or genre through my show. It’s also been cool to get responses from some of the bands I play and discuss (solicited or not).
I don’t think it’s an exercise in false humility to step aside while the spotlight’s on me to draw your attention to the dude who encouraged me to start this blog. My friend, Ben Helt, has made trips to record stores with me, ridden in the car with me while I dissect albums and has relaxed in my living room while I play him some of my favorite chillout music. He wanted me to channel my penchant for proselytism into a podcast. Thank you, Ben, for pushing me to do this.
Knowing I was approaching number 100, I emailed some friends and asked them to choose a song to discuss on this episode. I put no parameters on their choices, and I didn’t berate them when I disagreed with their song choices. The ones who appear on this show were incredibly respectful of my time, usually preparing their stories ahead of time. I think their preparation paid off for the listener, as well, with choice stories and brevity. Thank you to Joel, Russ, Jeff, and Shane, and to my wife, Kate. You all are the best!
Enjoy.
“Buggin’” – The Flaming Lips (The Soft Bulletin | Warner | 1999)
“Upon 9th and Fairchild” – The Boo Radleys (Giant Steps | Creation | 1993)
It will probably be another week or so before I post my 100th episode. It will be a special show, with my friends discussing some of their favorite songs (as opposed to my usual monopolization of your time). These are dear friends who have influenced my own tastes, and they contribute some great conversation and enthusiasm.
And like any of the other 99 episodes that have preceded it, you can expect a rather eclectic mix.
Apart from a couple friends, I just don’t hear many people discussing important bands like Sonic Youth, Velvet Underground or Joy Division. Even folks who pride themselves on listening to stuff outside the mainstream (Fleet Foxes, Sufjan Stevens, Sam Bean, etc.) don’t seem to have or desire a sense of musical history. I’m not asking that everyone be a musical savant like me, but it would be nice to see folks do their research and not dismiss some music simply because it sounds old.
This point in probably best illustrated in discussing the work of Brian Eno. The dude is responsible for so much huge, mega-popular music, but folks don’t seem to pay attention to him. It’s difficult to overstate his influence on bands like U2, Talking Heads, Roxy Music, David Bowie and Devo. (If you’re reading this blog, I assume you already have an unhealthy amount these bands’ music on your harddrive.) Yet rarely do I ever hear anyone talk about Eno’s solo work.
I don’t think it takes particularly artsy person to appreciate (most of) his work. I just think it takes an inquisitive person who wants to discover the source for a favorite band’s inspiration. Alright, enough proselytizing.
Enjoy the show.
“Kurt’s Rejoinder” – Brian Eno (Before and After Science/Polydor/1977)
“Vamos Companeros” – Harmonia & Eno ’76 (Tracks and Traces/Gronland/2009)
Lately I’ve been researching Brian Eno’s 1970s side-projects and found the albums he recorded with Harmonia and Cluster. (If you’ll remember, I talked about Harmonia in my last episode.) They’re both great examples of ambient music, music intended to be enjoyed equally either in the foreground or in the background. I love this stuff. And not too far removed is some of Eno’s work with David Bowie…
So my brother-in-law lives less than a mile away. His frequent visits to our house provide many opportunities to discuss music with which he’s not familiar. He’s been reading through the February issue of Mojo on our coffee table and saw an article on David Bowie’s 1977 classic, Low. This provided fodder for a lengthy conversation, as well as getting me on a Bowie kick over the weekend that saw me rotating through eight of his albums.
Anyway, I haven’t posted a rotation in a while. Here’s what I’ve been jamming to this past week. I’ll let you play the which-of-these-is-not-like-the-other game.
Sowiesoso – Cluster (Sky | 1976)
Heroes – David Bowie (RCA | 1977)
The Whole Love – Wilco (dBpm | 2011)
Neu! 75 – Neu! (Brain | 1975)
Tracks and Traces – Harmonia & Eno ’76 (Gronland | 2009)
Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) – David Bowie (RCA | 1980)
Before and After Science – Brian Eno (Island | 1977)
Then Play On – Fleetwood Mac (Reprise | 1969)
Point of Departure – Andrew Hill (Blue Note | 1964)
