If I Were A Carpenter

On Facebook, I was recently challenged to name 10 albums that have influenced my musical taste and upbringing over the past 44+ years. You have all seen the posts: One record per day. No explanations, no reviews, just the cover art.  Not my desert island discs, not my top 10 albums of all time, but the 10 albums that are core memories.

For those that know me, seeing my first two listings, "Check Your Head" by the Beastie Boys and "Southern Harmony & Musical Companion" by The Black Crowes were probably not surprising, but then I started to dig deep.  In fact, it was Corey Glover's voice from Living Colour that started to ring in my head, when he sings, "Everything is quiet / Everyone's gone to sleep / I'm wide awake / But these memories / These memories can't wait".  It caused me to think of the early 1980s in Westfield, NJ when it was The Carpenters' "Close to You" that was being pumped out of my parents' faux-end-table size speakers.  I cannot even remember the last time before today when I listened to "We've Only Just Begun".  But it was at this point that the challenge really started to make sense. 

It also made me think that I can relate to my friend Jess who has been spending the quarantine in Moreton-in-Marsh, UK.  She recently wrote,  that she is "Nostalgic in normal times and fairly connected and social, I wondered if this overwhelming longing to hear from people I’m perfectly capable of not talking to with any regularity in other times was just me. Turns out it’s not. It even has a name, a good one. It’s called a memory avalanche, this feeling of nostalgic desire for connection with people from our past . . ."  

This comment made me think of the Disney Pixar film "Inside Out" when Riley, a happy, 11-year-old Midwestern girl gets her world turns upside-down when she and her parents move to San Francisco.  Riley's emotions do their best to try and guide her through this life-changing event in only a way that a clever Pixar film can.  Outside of entertainment, scientific studies find that our identities are defined by specific emotions, which shape how we perceive the world, how we express ourselves and the responses we evoke in others.  "Inside Out” similar to these times of quarantine is a film about loss and what people gain when guided by feelings of sadness.

So for me, it is not the loss of people, but over these weeks and now months, I have been taking the time to reconnect with music.  There have been some recent deaths of musical legends that have hit me right in the gut, leading me to reflect on what music has always meant to me.  I do not own any Bill Withers or John Prine albums, but when I heard the respective news of their deaths, I could not help but remind myself how much I like listening to classic songs like "Use Me Up" and "Lean on Me".  And for Mr. Prine, the memories of hearing  'Dear Abby' and 'Grandpa was a Carpenter' jumped to the forefront of my mind.

Don't ask me how I remember these types of things, but spending all of this time inside has allowed me to dust off some albums that I have held onto and it feels good to connect with these records from my past.  It has even allowed me to hear how I got from polished singer-songwriters who used the Wrecking Crew as their house band to hip-hop pioneers that played their own instruments.

Thanks for reading.

"Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?"

"When things get back to normal . . .".   "When was the last time you went out to eat in a restaurant?" These are becoming all too common questions/phrases that we are currently hearing regularly in conversation.  In fact, I initiated an email thread a couple of weeks ago asking my long-time concert companion Jamie what were his first and LAST shows.  For those keeping score at home, for me it was August 28, 1991:  George Thorogood and the Delaware Destroyers with Johnny Winter at Waterloo (Stanhope, NJ), while for Jamie it was July 27, 1986:  Mr. Mister with The Bangles at  Saratoga Performing Arts Center (Saratoga Springs, NY).  And to keep us in the way-back machine, the first show that we ever attended together was November 23, 1994: G Love & Special Sauce at Maxwell's (Hoboken, NJ).  We have come a long from those days, but obviously not too far geographically since we were both spotted together most recently February 15, 2020:  The Play Trains reunion show at Crossroads (Garwood, NJ).

However, I have decided that I want to stop thinking about things from a perspective of first and last, but instead first and what’s next.   Is it the auto disco, The Micrashell (according to Robby, I can just wear the green blazer over the suit), drive-in shows, streaming concerts?  

The auto disco just doesn't do it for me, I would rather take a road trip and sing and dance in the car all the way to New Orleans instead of parked in one place.  The Micrashell is wild, an extremely futuristic idea and you will always be Halloween ready, but I can only see myself donning it for a Daft Punk show.

Drive-in concerts intrigue me, but similar to the fact that most amphitheaters were built outside of cities, so were drive-ins and not that I have never traveled for a show, but what happens if you don't call "Shotgun"?  Being relegated to the backseat for a show at the Riverside Drive In Theater in Vandergrift, PA makes me think that my friends will treat me like Morgan from 'Good Will Hunting' and that I just ordered a 'double burger'.

As for streaming concerts, I went old-school and watched the Rush in Rio live DVD in the Hickey’s basement with some fanatic fans, I also took the time to connect my laptop to my TV to watch Phish from my own living room as they closed out their 2014 tour at the Verizon Amphitheatre in Alpharetta, GA, but not surprisingly, neither experience captured the feeling of actually being there.

I realize that artists are going to continue to release new music and that they are going to want to present their songs.  In fact, I just read the New York Times '25 Songs that Matter' and I am definitively intrigued by Richard Dawson (the British singer songwriter, not the kissing bandit TV game show host) as well as the band Red Hearse and the idea of seeing these artists perform live.  So what do I think is next?

Well after watching SpaceX launch, I believe we are over-thinking all of this.  In my humble opinion, the same venues re-open, but at smaller capacities.  Concerts adopt the definition of social distancing and take-on the feel as if you are seeing the Avett Brothers at Club Cafe in 2006.  And when that happens you can once again say, "Remember when we saw G. Love & Special Sauce with 50 other people on the night before Thanksgiving."

Thanks for reading.

Rinse, Wash, Repeat

During this unprecedented time, a lot of people might feel that all of their days are blurring together.  Is it Monday?  Is it Friday?  Has the idea of wearing morning sweatpants versus evening sweatpants really become a thing?  I am doing my best to mix up my routine.  I am dipping into my vast collection of t-shirts accumulated over the years and wearing a different one each day.  But there are instances when I seem to be having a battle with the same ol’, same ol’.  I have not gotten to Pittsburgh meteorologist Phil Connors’ level of repetitive, but I find myself asking if I have seen and heard this before?

Most recently, I was stopped in my tracks after hearing the Primitive Radio Gods’ 1996 song, "Standing Outside A Broken Phone Booth" on Pittsburgh's WYEP 91.3 FM in my car on the way to the grocery store and then having it be the first full song I heard in my destination - Giant Eagle-East Liberty.  I am assuming that Giant Eagle was playing some well curated playlist from their streaming music for retail stores partnership, not consulting with the independent radio gods.  Why would they want to mess with one of the few remaining people that still regularly listens to the radio?

I am not sleepwalking through these endless days and weeks.  And I am sure the songwriters: Chris O'Connor and Leonard Feather were not trying to stir the pot, but the lyrics carry weight during COVID-19: “Am I alive or thoughts that drift away? / Does summer come for everyone? / Can humans do as prophets say? / And if I die before I learn to speak / Can money pay for all the days I lived awake / But half asleep?”.

At a different time in my life, I can also think of a handful of times that I sat in my apartment in Washington DC and played a handful of songs on repeat.  Not sure about the songs being penned in 1992, but the jam, “Taking Us Home” by The Samples from their album, ‘No Room’ as well as Jeffrey Gaines’ single “Headmasters of Mine” that included the B-Side cover of Peter Gabriel’s classic “In Your Eyes” were in heavy rotation on my Aiwa stereo.  There was also the 1996 release by the band Satchel (featuring the late vocalist Shawn Smith) which included the song, “Without Love”.

I could listen to these songs, over and over and I found comfort in their familiarity.  These days, I have found myself repeatedly listening to songs both old and new.  My “last” concert before seeing live music in person took a hiatus was Dermot Kennedy.  His song, “Rome”, speaks to me with the line, “All these memories run my mind in slow motion” or Billy Joel’s Miami 2017 (Seen The Lights Go OutOn Broadway) which written in 1976 still has an eerie relevance today:  “I've seen the lights go out on Broadway / I saw the mighty skyline fall / The boats were waiting at the battery / The union went on strike / They never sailed at all…”

Soon these days will be memories and hopefully they won’t repeat this winter.  Thanks for reading.

And You Can Tell Everybody This is Your Song

I have a lot of memories of my most recent family trip to Israel to celebrate my older son's Bar Mitzvah. However, there is one that repeatedly jumps out at me: playing the "telephone game" with 18 family members at Roza Restaurant in Gush Etzion Junction.  Even if the phrase was something simple like "Shawarma on a Spit", it was guaranteed, that this phrase would not get around the table intact.

The world has changed a lot since that December 2019 trip to the Middle East and these days, with social distancing, my family and I find ourselves on a lot of walks and runs throughout our neighborhood.  During these walks, the topics range from politics to starting your own business to what songs you are listening to when exercising.  At the same time, we also look to keep things light, and what makes me laugh during these unprecedented times is flubbing the lyrics to songs that you really thought you knew the words.  

Recently my younger son has thrown himself into the spotlight.  At the top of the chart this week is Bon Jovi's 'Livin' on a Prayer', which has been affectionately turned into 'Living on a Prairie'.  It reminded me of a Wayne’s World skit that I think would also work with the new Saturday Night Live (At Home) format in which Wayne & Garth highlight the 'Top 5 Misheard Lyrics' from their basement.  I have never forgotten #5 Peter Gabriel's "Shock the Monkey" being sung as "Jacques the Monkey".  

When the topic of this post came up, my wife also recalled a childhood friend that used to sing Rusted Root's hit "Send Me On My Way" as "Simmi & the Whale" and this woman would impressively go on to study at the University of Pennsylvania and Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health.  Speaking of colleges, while I was an undergraduate student at George Washington University, the team had numerous players with unique names:  Omo Moses, Kwame Evans and Vaughn Jones to name a few (shout out to Nimbo Hammons and Adama Kah as well).  And cleverly, the GW band changed the lyrics to Tito Puente's song, "Oye Como Va" with "Omo, Kwame, Vaughn".  I am sure there are some Colonials’ fans who never knew the origins of the 1962 Latin jazz and mambo Billboard hit.

The bottom line is that people are listening to a lot of individual playlists these days, but they are not alone in making up lyrics to their favorite songs.  I realize that I too have a couple of errors on the score sheet.  There is the time that I thought that Rush's lyrics to "Tom Sawyer" were tied to a 1980s video game that I played regularly at Warinanco Park in Roselle, "Today's Tom Sawyer, He gets high on you, With Space Invaders, He gets by on you'.  Or The Clash's "Rock the Casbah", in which I thought Joe Strummer was singing, "Kareem don't like it.".  As if #33 needed to be in another song other than Kurtis Blow's "Basketball"?

Good luck with Google Translate.  Thanks for reading.

Brothers don't shake hands, brothers hug

“Yes, no, maybe / I don't know / Can you repeat the question? / You're not the boss of me now / You're not the boss of me now / You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big”.  As They Might Be Giants faze out of the speakers, the way I remember things is that if my older brother wanted to go to an arena-sized concert, my parents would give him the greenlight if, and only if, I was allowed to tag along.   U2’s ZOO TV Tour lands in East Rutherford, NJ at Brendan Byrne Arena and there I am in the parking lot drinking 16 oz. cans of Budweiser.  While I went to the show assuming that the highlight of my night would be “Mysterious Ways”, "Angel of Harlem" was the one that blew me away.  This song was my gateway to The Memphis Horns who appeared on the studio version of this song and nearly every recording for Stax Records that included a horn section, which if you connect the dots, leads to much of my present day taste of music.

I can certainly attribute some of my tastes in music to the fact that I grew up a younger brother.  My older brother’s interest in music and his vast  collection allowed me to spend hours upon hours (when I was not sorting Jason’s collection in Mountainside) to just sift through his records, which he then replaced with cassettes and then eventually CDs (thank you Columbia House mail-order music clubs!).  In one of the few non-physical confrontational efforts to get me out of his room and to stop poking around his stuff, he would make cassette copies of the music that I expressed interest in.  I remember my copy of The Replacements “Stink” and the closing song “Gimme Noise” which could not have been any more appropriate: “I give you my jacket / You give me your glamor / Gimme that record / Gimme that hammer / Are you sleeping / Are you sleeping /Brother John”.

All of these moments have led to my musical preferences in 2020.  A harmonious stew that even cookbook author Adeena Sussman would envy.  I learned to read the liner notes, lyrics and who played what on each track.  And learning the names of the players and the instruments took me further down the path of discovering what I seek out and listen to now: a lot of New Orleans brass, rhythmic vocals and the occasional piano or organ solo.  So even though my brother will be the first to testify that the majority of the music I listen to now is questionable, music is not just beautiful in the eye of the beholder, but who sits in the shotgun seat of the ’82 Pontiac.

My brother turns 48 tomorrow and we do not see each other nearly as often as we did when we were both on the East Coast. However, when we do connect, it is not strange for the conversation to focus on what we have been listening to or what live show we have seen recently.   And although I do not know the next time I will see my brother, let alone attend a concert together, I will continue to listen to music with a set of younger brother ears and look forward to the next time we can have a beer before heading to see live music.

Thanks for reading.

Like a bridge over troubled water

According to the web site Mental Health Connecticut, “Social isolation has been linked to higher blood pressure and cardiovascular disease, vulnerability to infection. . . .  Loneliness can affect your mental and emotional health as well as your physical well-being.”  Musicians have also weighed in on this same subject. Fiona Apple once stated that, “When you're surrounded by all these people, it can be lonelier than when you're by yourself. You can be in a huge crowd, but if you don't feel like you can trust anyone or talk to anybody, you feel like you're really alone.”  And even though I am lovingly surrounded by my wife and two sons, we are all battling the effects that this global pandemic is having on our daily lives – online learning and working from home. To cope with this stress, my wife turns to running on the treadmill, my boys like their video games and playing outdoor basketball, and for me it always seems to in one-way or another lean towards music.

Music is my happy space.  However, I have recently learned that, “Musicians are three times more likely to experience depression” (study completed by University of Westminster, London, UK).  The research surveyed 2,211 musicians, and over 68% stated they had struggled with depression.   This led me to ask myself, do all performers need to experience some sort of heartbreaking event to be able to create the songs that become the soundtrack of our lives?  My dear friend (and cousin) Jason and I have now been going back and forth for the past 48 hours with what seems like endless song titles (a lot of them with lyrics to match) that could be ripped from today’s headlines. 

Who knew that the Guns N' Roses song “Out ta Get Me” from their groundbreaking 1987 album “Appetite for Destruction” would carry so much weight in today’s unprecedented times:  “Been hidin' out / And layin' low / It's nothing new ta me / Well you can always find a place to go / If you can keep your sanity”.  Of course, there is more:  “Isolation” from Joy Division, "Armageddon's Back In Town" by the Drive-By-Truckers or "Don't Come Around Here No More" by Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers: “Don't come around here no more / Whatever you're looking for / Hey! Don't come around here no more / I've given up, stop”.

It is surreal to think that this is where we find ourselves in March 2020.  Nathaniel Rateliff at the Byham Theater – postponed, my trip to New Orleans for French Quarter Fest – postponed, The Rolling Stones NO FILTER tour – postponed.  There are now a lot of red question marks and Xs on my calendar where live music once occupied a spot.  Despite its absence, I still find myself relying on music in this extraordinary era and to a certain extent leaning on a band that encompasses popular music mythology. Although the Beatles can seem larger than life, sometimes it is their grounded lyrics that can bring us to safety: “And when the broken hearted people / Living in the world agree / There will be an answer, let it be. / For though they may be parted there is / Still a chance that they will see / There will be an answer, let it be / Let it be, let it be. Yeah / There will be an answer, let it be.”

Thanks for reading!

CONNECT 4

In my new job, I have taken to signing off emails with the line, “Looking forward to connecting soon.”  I don't write this line in vain because in fact, one of my main responsibilities on a daily basis at work is connecting with people.

Recently, I met with one of the premier special events rental companies in the greater Pittsburgh market late on a Friday afternoon.  At the end of our meeting we exchanged pleasantries and asked what each other was doing that weekend.  The gentleman, being my senior, mentioned that he and his wife would be going to a concert, and when I eagerly asked which one, he politely said that it was an artist before my time.  When I pressed him, he said “Arlo Guthrie” which I quickly responded that “It’s not Thanksgiving until you hear ‘Alice’s Restaurant’.  We then shared a quick laugh, but what really blew me away was that days later, I received a copy of “Alice's Restaurant 50th Anniversary Massacree” in the mail.

Music continues to be a constant in my life that connects me to my friends.  Both songs and bands often times link to me to people from various different points in my life. One of those bands is Phish.  And it is fitting that they are the group that sings a song called “The Connection”, "When I see the connection / Though I see, I don't stare”.  As I look into the figurative mirror of my life, they are the band that ties me to my childhood friends from New Jersey.   They were a constant in my college years in Washington DC and during my years of booking/traveling with bands.  They link me to my brother-in-law who lives on another continent and after seeing the band perform for the first time in a couple of years, I realized that even though I do not own any of their albums, they are a band that acts as a social glue for me.

  

I have yet to introduce my boys to Phish, but the song about connections that they have heard is Kermit the Frog’s “Rainbow Connection”:  “Why are there so many / Songs about rainbows/ And what's on the other side / Rainbows are visions / They're only illusions / And rainbows have nothing to hide.”  My intent of this blog is to share some of my ideas about music and how it plays a part in my life and I understand that by sharing those thoughts, I have put myself out there.  Hopefully in a way that you the reader can connect with . . .

As always, thanks for reading and enjoy my nominees/winners for what has become an obligatory year in review.  Happy New Decade!

Song of the Year:

Better Oblivion Community Center – “Dylan Thomas”

Black Pumas - "Colors"

Citizen Cope – “Justice”

Hozier - "Almost (Sweet Music)"

Daniel Norgen - "Let Love Rule the Game"

Concert of the Year:

J Roddy Walston & The Business at Point State Park - June 11

Cautious Clay at Schenley Plaza - June 29 

Grand Masters of Guitar at THIS IS RED - July 11 

Pink Talking Fish at Hamilton Live – October 12

Phish at Petersen Events Center – December 4

Album of the Year 

Bon Iver “I, I”

City and Colour – “A Pill for Loneliness”

Sam Fender – “Hypersonic Missiles”

Bruce Hornsby - “Absolute Zero”

Dermot Kennedy – “Without Fear”