Blog Post
My First Love? Love On The Rocks
by John J. Madonna
I don’t know if I would like Neil Diamond nearly as much as I do were it not for Will Ferrell’s unique interpretation of the man, but needless to say he does not get enough credit from rock circles as he should. His music, though oft disregarded as bubblegum, has contributed as much as Carole King and , Burt Bacharach and Hal David, and all of the other authors from the sixties-era Tin Pan Alley.
Of course, at that point, rock snobs will then acknowledge his songwriting contributions to other musicians such as The Monkees, but continue to snub his own music: they hate the rhinestones, the voice, and everyone always complains, “Why was Neil Diamond at The Last Waltz?” But, you know, personally, I like the songs; I like his voice… the rhinestones I could do without.
Neil's arrangements, certainly in keeping with early seventies’ productions, exemplify the good aspects of the era rather than the bad, such as when the string sections, ubiquitous with singer/songwriters at the times, become mushy, heavy-handed and take over the music instead of complementing the tune. While his lyrics might not be the heaviest out there, he never promotes them as such; rather he keeps his music in keeping with straightforward fun rock music. His music also felt like early nostalgia pieces, harkening back to sixties’ music albeit with a seventies’ feel.
And, let’s face it: baseball at Fenway wouldn’t be the same without Neil Diamond.
Blog Post
Why I Listen…
by John J. Madonna
To Music
I heard R.E.M.’s “ Man on the Moon” on the radio this morning. As I sang along the “Yeah, yeah, yeah”s, my mind was transported back to October 2004. I climbed the stairs in Cobo Hall to those seats even the nosebleeders scoffed at to see The Boss, wsg R.E.M., John Fogerty, and Bright Eyes in tow. I never heard R.E.M. before, but they were so bright and jangly, so the next few weeks, I dove into their music. But listening to R.E.M. today didn’t just remind of the concert or October/November of ‘04, it reminded me of who I was at nineteen.
Music documents my life. The summer of ‘05: I grew out my hair and listened to George Harrison, CSNY, The Mamas and The Papas, and Donovan. Summer of 2004: I worked graveyards at Target, listening to Born In The U.S.A. and Peter Gabriel. In 1989, my family drove to Estes Park, and I listened to Woody Guthrie’s “This Land Is Your Land” (a rebel was born, I guess.) Throughout the different changes in my life, music was playing. Today when I heard “ Man On The Moon,” the song hadn’t changed since I last heard it years ago. But I’ve changed. I love it, you know, because once a song is waxed, it is unchanging. Yet we’ve all heard songs we’ve hated, only to rehear later and love. We’ve all loved songs and grown tired of them until months later, years later, we hear it again and suddenly we go back in time and appreciate how much we’ve changed (or how little.) I don’t watch home movies, I don’t take pictures, I listen to music.
To LPs
Starting with my dad’s copy of The Game, I collected LPs. As analog technology, in an age where digital has gone crazy, I can’t stress enough, the uncompressed full LPs sound better; they have much richer album art and lower prices. And, hey, LPs are way cooler. Anyone wanting to enter the realm of music snobbery, a turntable is certainly a necessity. But most importantly, LPs add a physical connection to music listening: pushing play on an iPod is in no way similar to placing a needle on an LP.
The first LP I bought after moving to Ann Arbor was Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs. As Layla become a chapter of my life (my first weeks at college,) it occurred to me that this was somebody’s. I imagined someone coming home from the record store thirty years ago with a brand new LP playing it while getting over a break-up, or entertaining guests, or learning the riff from “Layla” on guitar. LPs are very much pieces of the past, and the pops and noise, remnants of each play, and integral parts of the LP aesthetic, transform the art of the music into a product of the listener. Mp3’s, collections of ones and naughts, can never be destroyed, but LPs wear out, turning music almost into an auto destructive art form. An LP is like if everyone who visited the statue of David in Florence took a small chip of marble home with them. Granted, those non-breakable LPs are more fragile, but that just puts more importance on every spin.
Blog Post
Why do people give to public radio?
by remnil
Ah, October! With the tenth month of the year comes not only the onset of fall, but also Guilt Week, aka the fall membership drive for National Public Radio.
Public radio is an interesting beast because its finances are unlike not only for-profit businesses, but also other 501(c)(3)s. Through some magical combination of guilt and altruism, public radio stations manage to get lots of people to willingly donate money to something they could get for free. Not only that, but listeners pay based on how much they value the station. Businesses would kill to be able to charge customers like that.
So I propose a discussion topic in honor of Guilt Week: why are so many public radio listeners willing to donate often considerable amounts without coercion? Is it out of the goodness of their hearts? Because they fear their fabulous local station will disappear if they don't? Other reasons? What say those of you who donate to public radio? Why do you give?
Blog Post
The impending death of the used bookseller
by remnil
provocative article on Entrepreneur.com recently profiled several industries on the verge of extinction. Among the condemned: record stores, newspapers, and used bookstores.
As the article notes, newspapers aren't really going to die; they're just going to change. But what about those book and record stores? It would perhaps be more accurate to say that and record stores are under threat. Sure, a few widely successful independents will remain. But even iconic independents are finding it harder to stay open.
What do you think? Are independent book and record stores disappearing? Should we even care, in the age of the long tail thrift and accessibility of Amazon and Barnes & Noble? Or will such stores simply adapt like their allegedly-doomed newspaper brethren?
Blog Post
What is a Slan?
by RiponGood
A Slan is a highly evolved human, discovered by Samuel Lann. The legend says Lann exposed his wife to a mutation machine, producing three mutated offspring, two girls and a boy. Over a period of 1500 years, more Slans appeared. During that time, mankind and Slans fought a bitter war, in which the humans triumphed. It is not the human policy to hunt down and kill any Slan. So goes Slan by A. E. van Vogt, written in 1946. We also have an audio version.
Blog Post
Why Is The World In Love Again
by John J. Madonna
They Might Be Giants may only be two guys named John, a guitarist and an accordioner, but the music that they produce is something else. The lyrics—funny, tragic, weird, poetic, meaningless—are backdropped by consciously bizarre, irresistibly catchy, and off the wall rocking music. After twenty years, they have but two gold albums to their names, a few minor hit singles. They’ve made serious records, kids records, TV themes (Malcolm In The Middle, The Daily Show,) and unique music videos. And I am happy to say (now that I have my ticket) that They Might Be Giants are coming here to the Michigan Theatre, November 14th.
TMBG’s first records from the late 80’s, their eponymous record and Lincoln, epitomize the quirky musicianship with which TMBG has made their name, featuring prominent, rocking accordion, computer effects care of Apple IIe’s, tongue-in-cheek drum machines, and the oddly charming vocals of the two Johns. After minor success with their first records, Elektra signed them and released Flood. Not their best work, but it became their most popular, featuring a cover of “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” and “Birdhouse In Your Soul,” which may be the greatest song ever made.
Everything thing was turning up roses for TMBG. They played on Carson, Flood went gold… but along came grunge. Grunge destroyed hair metal, synth pop, and everything bad about the 80s. Unfortunately, it destroyed everything good about the 80s, too, like the diverse alternative scene including TMBG. Flood’s follow-up, Apollo 18 did not sell nearly as well. So they expanded their sound by adding a band of Dans, going for a more straight ahead rock motif. While records like John Henry and Factory Showroom don’t get the praises of the earlier records, they still contain the unmistakable sound.
They Might Be Giants made the gigantic documentary Gigantic, highlighting their meteoric rise to… kind of fame. In it, we see a pair of guys excited about their fiercely devoted cult following. I have had the privilege of seeing TMBG twice in my life. Once during their tour of Borders Book Stores across the nation to promote Here Come The ABCs, and I saw them again at the Majestic in Detroit, when they did probably the best show I’ve ever seen (maybe a close second to Dylan.) They closed with “Fingertips.” That knocked me out.
Blog Post
Too busy for a book club?
by Nicole R
Even for book lovers, it can be hard to fit that book club meeting into your busy schedule.
Mid-morning commuters and others who like to listen-while-you-work can tune into NPR’s The Diane Rehm Show for a monthly on-air book discussion, Reader’s Review.
There’s still time to read this month’s selection, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, or listen to the audio version, before the October 24th Reader’s Review.
Those who miss the show (or just need more time to finish that last chapter) can listen online after the show airs.
Blog Post
Yes, It Is Really As Good As They Say
by John J. Madonna
Looking at a quite expensive double LP reissue of The Beach Boys' Pet Sounds in PJ’s Records, I scoffed at the storeowner’s claim I was holding the greatest album ever made. How could the band responsible for “Kokomo” and… that song Uncle Jesse sang with the Rippers on “Full House” make the greatest record ever? Regardless, I figured I’d try it and ran to the Downtown library (this happened in those dark days before my employ at AADL) to check it out. The new version has the original mono as well as a stereo remix—a surprise coming from deaf-in-on-ear Brian Wilson. I elected to go stereo. I didn’t much care for it. Mono elicited the same reaction. But after the tenth time, I loved it.
I grew up on The Beach Boys. Maybe that gave me a bias, as I first band I ever liked, I dismissed them as “kid’s music.” Not to mention, I was listening to Pet Sounds forty years out of context. When someone says Pet Sounds was revolutionary, it means so little, because I’ve already heard all the music it’s influenced, making it much harder for original to impress a newer generation. But all it took was a few repeat listenings to start appreciating it.
While it owes a debt to Phil Spector and his teenage symphonies, Pet Sounds made a bold statement, creating, in a time when a British accent alone equaled top ten hit, a distinctly American record full of folk traditions and the sunny, California music synonymous with The Beach Boys. Furthermore, Phil Spector called albums “Two hits and ten pieces of junk.” Brian Wilson, took the challenge of crafting a cohesive, artsy, beautiful record from start to finish. Pet Sounds raised the bar of what an album should—nay, could be, and before everyone tried to release the next Sgt. Pepper’s, they wanted to make the next Pet Sounds.
Pet Sounds stands as The Beach Boys’ crowning achievement. I have since, through listening to their box set, rekindled my appreciation for their earlier work, but after Pet Sounds and Good Vibrations hit, they tanked. Smile, the follow-up to Pet Sounds (as if there could be such a thing,) never happened once Brian Wilson left the band (he actually finished it in 2004,) and slowly, the artistic competition The Beach Boys had with The Beatles deteriorated from neck and neck to a landslide.
For the record, while “Kokomo” and “Forever” (the John Stamos "Forever," mind you) are technically The Beach Boys, it wasn’t at all the same band that released Pet Sounds.
Blog Post
Solos, Soli, Flat Picking, Shredding, Mind Blowing, And Cetera
by John J. Madonna
While explaining to me the merits of John Mayer, my friend, who has not similar but overlapping tastes, said he was first drawn into the sordid world of Try! and Continuum when he heard a John Mayer song on the radio, and it had an actual guitar solo. Music for the past ten years has focused on vocalists and not bands, so a guitar solo in a song on the radio can be cause for jubilation, but a solo good does not a song make.
Driving down the highway yesterday, I tuned into 94.7 as Jackson Browne came on (I think “Running On Empty,” if not, definitely one of his hits,) and his song had a guitar solo. An absolutely lifeless, tepid guitar solo. After that, the station played “Let It Be,” the 1970 album version—important because The Beatles released three distinct versions with three distinct solos—and it was great. Typical George Harrison, carefully choosing his notes, his tone, his contribution fit the emotion of the already moving song. The two solos had one key difference, and it wasn’t the quality of the guitarist. A session musician played the solo for Jackson Browne; a Beatle played the solo for The Beatles.
For the third anecdote composting this thought process, I was recently exposed to the musical wrecking ball that is youtube. I saw videos for chart toppers, cheesy eighties music, a rather terrible band performing “The Final Countdown” (people, a cheap Casio is not the same as the fat synths of Europe,) and an onslaught of guitar clips of shredding solos, fret board gymnastics, blues riffs, finger picking, the works… so many people can play guitar so amazingly, and that is why Jackson Browne’s guitarist failed to impress. Browne, a singer/songwriter, wanted a guitar solo on his song, so he hired a session musician. Once the session man finished, he took his check and went to his next gig with no investment in the final product other than to do a merely good job. At the end the day, he doesn’t do anything he couldn’t already do, as no one would commission a session musician who can’t already play at the audition what he is expected to wax.
In contrast, a guitarist in a band, when it comes time to solo, needs not only to play well, but stretch his own ability, work for a better sound, and strive to be an artist, not an artisan because no one else can do it for him. I don’t mean to rag session musicians (I’ve sung my praises for The Funk Brothers,) rather I’m saying a guitar solo might as well be lyrics to the song. The truly great solos, the ones that make us wave our lighters or pick up our air Les Pauls, have never been about how technical proficiency of the solo, but how the guitarist uses his guitar as his own voice. Just as it makes no sense to hire someone to write a verse for an already finished song, it similarly makes no sense to hire someone to record a solo for your song. Unless you like flaccid solos.
Blog Post
Happy Birthday, Jane
by Maxine
The dark romance, Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte was published on October 6, 1847 under the title, Jane Eyre: An Autobiography by Currer Bell, a pseudonym created by Bronte. Thought to be one of the most famous of British novels, the book has all the elements of compelling Gothic romance: a brooding man, a woman madly in love with him and to top it off, a mad wife. The novel has spawned others with the same appeal including Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier, The Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys and a futuristic parody, The Eyre Affair: A Thursday Next Novel by Jasper Fforde. Jane has transmogrified to screen and just recently, the musical stage.
Oh, and don't forget Charlotte's sister, Emily and her equally brooding Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights.