Category Archives: Music

Wednesday Nostalgia

You know that when a song starts out with the lyric, Well I had just got out from the county prison, doin’ 90 days for non-support — it’s blues. Fo sho. But it’s blues with a sly grin, done best by the immortal Jim Croce.

I’ll never forget the afternoon I came home from school on one sunny, warm 1974 spring day, and found that I’d left my Croce album lying on a shelf near the window sill, out of its cover. The sun had warped it beyond repair. I was devastated, haha.

Anyway, here’s an awesome memory for some of us, remastered from his BBC appearance with his sidekick and fabulous guitarist, Maury Muehleisen. So tragic they were both killed in that plane crash. Ugh, life can be horribly cruel.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tLKhUnl_yhc

Halfway to the end of the week — that’s some good news for your Wednesday. It’s May Day!

Robert who…? II

I’m doing a unit on the blues for my 5th grade music class. They’re enjoying it, and so am I, actually. This week, they’re writing their own verses, some of which I get behind the keyboard and sing for them. It makes them laugh.

My raison d’etre: amusing a group of 10-year-olds. Go ahead. Mock.  :P

Yesterday, I showed one class two photos of Robert Johnson. (Who is Robert Johnson? No worries; got ya covered, fiend.) While I talked to them about Johnson’s life and mysterious death, I passed the pictures around. I said, “Check out the length of his fingers.” The kids were blown away, which made me laugh. They couldn’t get over it, or stop talking about it.

“They look like alien fingers!”
“He has E.T. hands!”

Hahaha. Anyway, I told them that the photos they were looking at were the only two existing pictures of Johnson. Turns out I was wrong. I have since learned that a third photograph was authenticated just this year. I’ll have to bring that one in to show them.

My mentioning this blues unit at dinner with Lars last night sparked a lively conversation about blues altogether, and we talked at length about one of our all-time favorite players, Stevie Ray Vaughan. Gone way, way too soon. But that’s a subject deserving of its own post on its own day — maybe come the 3rd of October, his birthday.

And now I fly. More 5th grade craziness this afternoon. Are you having a good day?

Review: History of the Eagles

After three hours, I was wrung out. Crying, smiling, remembering…if you were “there” (1970-1980), and even if you weren’t, this is necessary watching for you.

History of the Eagles is so full of stories, the editors alone deserve an Emmy. With priceless 60s and 70s archival footage, honest — really honest — interview segments, and enlightening peeks into how a Band becomes a Brand, this documentary is as close to an anthology as you can get.

That doesn’t mean, however, that it was without discomfort. I thought about those bits all evening last night, and I woke up thinking about them this morning. But more on that later.

L-R Randy Meisner, Glenn Frey, Don Henley, Joe Walsh, Don Felder

It’s a true historical account: it starts when Glenn Frey and Don Henley were in junior high school in Detroit, Michigan and Linden, Texas, respectively, and ends with footage from their tour following the release of their last album in 2007. Watching what all happened in between those times will wear you out.

Of course, you can’t talk about the Eagles without bringing up their stunning, sigh-inducing harmonies, which are shown on several occasions in a rehearsal-type atmosphere, or with the five of them just sitting in a hotel room, singing for the heck of it. Oh, the memories of that sound. Almost every song featured took me back to a specific memory, and I am certain that those recollections cloud this review. So be it. Still, that they even survived all those years on the road is a testament to their steely commitment to, as both Henley and Frey say in interviews, “just getting better.”

Throughout their close scrapes with the law, constant control-freakism (mostly between Frey and others, like sidemen and producers) and basic struggles when you live with the same people for years on end in a marriage-like situation, the boys always came out on top. Almost always. They lost bass player Randy Meisner to his debilitating insecurity about singing the high notes on crowd favorites like “Take it to the Limit.” He couldn’t take the pressure, and was replaced by the drop-dead-beautiful voice and bass playing talents of Timothy B. Schmit (singer of “Love Will Keep Us Alive”).

Don Felder on his Gibson SG Doubleneck, circa 1978

Don Felder on his Gibson SG Doubleneck, circa 1978

But the segment on lead guitarist Don Felder’s untimely and crushingly sad departure from the group is what I can’t stop thinking about. All those years, all those songs, all the experiences, all the success…and the Eagles and Felder (sadly known as “The Other Don” because of the larger-than-life presence of Henley) just couldn’t agree to let bygones be bygones. Watching the final Felder interview was heartbreaking. To me, it’s not the Eagles anymore without him.

Felder constantly recorded random riffs onto a tape deck, and we can thank him for sending Frey and Henley a copy of something he couldn’t get out of his head. It went on to become the chord progression by which the band would be forever identified:

Bm|F#|A|E|G|D|Em|F#

But it couldn’t save him from being dismissed from the band of brothers he’d lived and worked with for two decades. He left shattered and hurt and bitter (and not without fault himself, to be fair to Frey). So sad. It sticks in my craw. That, and out of all the Eagles, he was — and still is — the best looking. Yes, I’m that shallow. :P

L-R Walsh, Henley, Frey and Schmit

L-R Walsh, Henley, Frey and Schmit

Seriously though, if you want to see how they became who they were, from the way they found their band name to who wrote the tunes and how they recorded, to the irreversible damage caused by the recording sessions for their last album (The Long Run), you must watch this documentary. In the annals of rock history, it is time-capsule worthy. It’s that good.

If you’re looking for insight into their family lives, however, you will be disappointed. Wives and children were mentioned only in passing, and not by name. I’m assuming that was by design. They wanted to keep it “business only.” I don’t mind that; I was never interested in their wives anyway. ;-)

Informative, deep, sad, riveting, funny, entertaining, tragic and lovely. All the superlatives fit. This is required watching for anyone who remembers — and in my case, treasures a great deal about — their wasted youth in the 1970s.

On the Rat-O-Meter scale of five cheeses, I give History of the Eagles RtB’s first-ever:

 

Vieil ami

Old friend indeed.

In 1970, my sister Mavis gave me an awesome gift — the Yamaha FG 180 “flat top” acoustic guitar that our parents bought and she no longer wanted. (I think her interests were redirecting to bigger and better areas, like, oh…boys :-D )

I immediately buried myself in my bedroom with it, along with a Mel Bay chord chart book and my record player. From that point until around high school graduation, those three items got an awful lot of use.

Over the last 42 years, it’s seen some interesting treatment: it was dropped on its head many times, spent a couple of years buried in a closet, survived several moves, played countless parties, school concerts, coffee house gigs and church services, and even went missing for a couple of months. We’ve seen some times together, this old thing and I.

Unbeknownst to my parents at the time, they purchased a fine instrument, which now, four decades later, is in considerably high demand. According to my research, the sound is likened to the Martin D18 — no slouch comparison. The FG 180 was Yamaha’s attempt in the late 60s to enter the “Western guitar” market in the US — a time when record numbers of young people were learning to play acoustic guitar, inspired by the many country-and-western artists making it big.

As you can see by the photos, it’s been through several mills over the years. And true to the conduct of a rebellious pre-teenager of the time, it even has my initials carved in it. Ha.

When Daddy visited in September, he did some work on the neck, which made a huge difference. Last night, son Lars came over and restrung it and polished it up for his mama. It’s still an old soul, just like me. I guess that’s why I’ll never give it up.

I’ll just pass it down.

Hope you’re relaxing this weekend, fiends. I think I’ll play me some git-tar.

A Subjective List

While stumbling around on the web at 3 a.m. today, I came across Rolling Stone‘s 100 Greatest Singers of All Time list. (“A panel of 179 experts ranked the vocalists.”) Now before I get all snarked up, I will say that I agree with many of the selections. I’d even go so far as to say I totally see the reasoning behind the #1 choice.

But a list that includes Stevie Nicks, Willie Nelson and Janis Joplin gives me pause. Great pause. Rating Roy Orbison above Freddie Mercury? More pausing. Then I realized, it’s really not about basic vocal beauty, is it? I mean, would you want Little Richard singing the Lord’s Prayer at your wedding? (Don’t answer that.)

Singers are great, in my opinion, not so much for their vocal prowess as for how they make us feel. Now don’t get me wrong; I appreciate super-human voices with technique up to there. I really like them — so much, in fact, that I wonder which of the “experts” at Rolling Stone decided that Bono should get the #32 slot, but Bobby McFerrin shouldn’t make the list at all. *scratching head*  Still, you have to go back to the overall effect.  Case in point:

There is no question, hesitation or waffling with regard to who is my #1 pick of all time. Don’t even have to think about it. From the moment I heard him sing the opening line of “Girl” (Is there anybody going to listen to my story…?), the space at the top was locked up forever. And I can’t really tell you why he’s my all-time #1. I don’t think I could find sufficient words. But if I were to give it a go, I’d tell you that his voice is so different, so expressive, so intimate…you feel like every lyric he sings is from a song you wrote and hold very dear and personal. His style is both plaintive and declaratory; tender and merciless; ragged and delicate.  Almost everyone I know can hear a recording of his voice and identify it within seconds. Add to that the fact that in 45 years of listening to him over and over and over, I have yet to hear one note sung out of tune.

In my mind, he’s just the entire package. And this from a “trained” singer in classical and jazz music. Just goes to show it’s more about what’s in your heart than anything. It is for me, anyway.

It’s an oft-mentioned adage in singer lore:  you’d much rather hear a singer who’s not necessarily technically perfect, but who can sell a song, lock and stock. The names on that list are few.

So how about you? If you had to choose one voice as your “Greatest Singer of All Time,” who would it be, and why? I covet your articulate and compendious opinions.

Aaaaaand it’s 5 a.m. Time to git bizzy. Have a dandy day, fiends. I highly recommend some Rubber Soul on your way to work this morning.