[personal/blog] [music] 

I don't watch American Idol, but I've noticed (thanks to incessant local news items) that Southampton's Anthony Fedorov is the second Bucks County resident to make it deep into an American Idol competition; Clown-haired Doylestown native Justin Guarini was the first.

I wonder how many other suburban areas can boast such a meaningless reality show stat, and are we residents of Bucks really that talented, or is it just something in the water?

[personal/blog]  [music] 

Well, at least there appeared to be a lull. Here's the smedley update after not blogging for a few days:

On Saturday, I went to a Bill Mallonee show in West Orange N.J., sort of a one man thing, just Bill up on stage with his guitar, a harmonica and a few dozen friendly folks. It was definitely the most intimate setting I've seen him in. The next smallest crowd I saw him performing in front of was at the Chameleon Club in Lancaster, PA, about nine years ago, and that was at least three times more populated than this one was. But, as I alluded to earlier, this time was more intimate, and definitely enjoyable. As always (at least from my experience), Mr. Mallonee delivered a heartfelt, clean, acoustic performance, digging back into the ancient past of his Vigilantes days. He was even joined by his opening act, a soothing Irish female voice otherwise known as Vesper Stamper, to perform his five-year-old tune "Resplendent." Vesper filled in reasonably well, singing the part that originally went to Emmylou Harris.

After being bogged down ever since coming back from Jersey, I finally saw my schedule start to free up yesterday, upon which I promptly misplaced forty dollars I had just withdrawn from the bank, and then I proceeded to lock my keys in the car (it only took the AAA guy about 95 minutes to get there and help me break in to retrieve them).

In the hour and a half I waited for Triple-A, the crisp, cold air seemed to send my mind spinning, and I sensed a clarity I haven't had in months, but as soon as I got back into the car and fired up the heat, somehow the clarity all but disappeared. Oh well, I hadn't intended to write much until the weekend anyway.

[personal/blog]  [music] 

Some visitors may have noticed the links to the left under the heading "music that screams for a cult following." Among them is a link to a fellow named Jayy Mannon, a guy with whom I used to work.

Jayy has embarked on a solo music effort these past couple years, after spending his early music career in a couple different bands (well, mostly the same band, but the name changed when they signed a record deal with MCA a few years back). The earliest incarnation of music groups I saw him in was Bonehead, which if you're from Philadelphia and you followed the local music scene in the late nineties, you've probably heard of. They were one of the premier cover bands in the Philadelphia area during that period of time, until they started concentrating on their own original music and the subsequent record deal.

Some people, like me, never had much use for the local bar scene unless there was a decent band playing somewhere. Along with several friends, I spent many evenings during the late nineties in smoky urban, and suburban, bars watching relatively unknown local talents ply their trade. Bonehead was one of those bands that made the smoke-permeated air bearable.

I don't know if those days have exactly returned, but a Bonehead revival seems to be taking place over the past many months. They are making available some earlier, unreleased music tracks you might have heard them sing back in the day (and possibly these days too). I don't know how many of the hundreds of Philly-area Bonehead regulars from the last decade find themselves reading this site, but even the uninitiated might enjoy sampling some of the tracks at Boneheadlive.com.

And also a reminder that Jayy's site also has some yet-to-be-released music, some of which is bound to appear on his forthcoming CD Broken and Glued.

[personal/blog]  [music] [writing/literature] [sociopolitical] 

"When the flood calls
You have no home, you have no walls.
In the thunder crash
You're a thousand minds, within a flash.
Don't be afraid to cry at what you see..."
-Peter Gabriel

I've been a little numb on the writing side this week. It was supposed to be the ideal week to relax a little, start reading some new books, and maybe write something worth reading.

Then Sunday came. And I've been internally preoccupied ever since.

I did start in on some new reading material I received for Christmas, but I haven't gotten far with it. And the writing end of things has been stifled quite a bit by the oceanic events that have infiltrated the entire blogosphere, including this small corner of it. I don't mean to suggest that an event the magnitude of last Sunday's earthquake-induced tsunami belongs anywhere but on the front burner -- however, I seem to have been saturated to the point that I wish I could write intelligently about something, anything, else. And in the absence of a decent post without tsunami content, I wish I could have written something more profound about it, as Steve did in yesterday's post. At the very least, I'd like to publicly thank my brother-in-law for filling in a bit yesterday.

The quote at the head of this post is from a Peter Gabriel song called "Here Comes the Flood", which I've had in my CD collection for about ten years. It floats back into my head every time I hear news of any kind of water-related tragedy, from the flooding that seems to periodically trouble the Midwestern U.S. to hurricanes in the Caribbean to things like the tsunami that has led to the perpetually rising body count in Southeast Asia. The tone of the song is quiet, slow and sad. I've appreciated the song over the last decade or so, the way that a tragic song could only be appreciated by someone with no realistic frame of reference on the tragedy being described.

I sometimes wonder if there isn't something cheap about my vicarious experience through such a sad song. I have not even the most remote idea what it is to flee the crashing waves. Most of us have no idea of it, as most of us, even this short distance from lower Manhattan, have no clue what horror was experienced by those who died, or even those who narrowly escaped the falling towers.

But sympathy, even as it falls far short of true empathy, is better than callous disregard, is it not? That's the question I've held silently these past few days, as I notice how many people are literally oblivious to the worldwide news from this past weekend. Some of the same people no doubt would have thought of people in the middle east as callous or even hostile to not express sympathy for the U.S. in the wake September 11.

My point is not to draw any blatantly apples-and-oranges comparisons, but to note how we tend to think our tragedies more tragic than those that happen on the other side of the world. Causes aside, the deaths of tens of thousands (close to 70,000 at last count I received) can not be considered anything less than supremely, profoundly, tragic. But many of us here in the U.S. are still oblivious to it.

The rest of us just wish we could be.

Andre Salles has posted his top ten albums list for 2004. I'm actually unfamiliar with several of the albums on the list, but based on a couple with which I am familiar, I'm considering checking out several of the other suggestions on the list.

I came across an interesting item courtesy of time spent using Blog Explosion this morning. It's called A Brief History of Rhyme: MC Hawking's Greatest Hits. Something I would have never thought existed: a rap CD with Stephen Hawking's name on it. Hmmm...

I know this will be the second straight tm3am column I've linked to in a week, but I have to do it. In his rant about Rolling Stone magazine's recent list of the "500 Greatest Songs of All Time", Andre Salles really strikes a chord regarding what some people are calling great music.

I would rant about it myself, but he does a far better job of it.

I got the new U2 last week, and I've been digesting it ever since. I actually like it quite a bit -- I'm not yet sure where it fits in my internal U2 rankings, and I rarely have a fixed order for that anyway. Prior to hearing this album, I had four U2 albums specifically set apart in my mind as my four favorite:

• Achtung Baby - took me forever to get used to, but unlike some old-timers on the U2 fan circuit, I adjusted and ended up liking a lot of their 90's material, though neither Zooropa nor Pop were nearly as good as this one.
• All That You Can't Leave Behind - a first listen fave for me. Probably the most technically well-made music I've heard from U2, but I especially liked songs like "Walk On" and "In a Little While" (the latter reminded me of Van Morrison a little bit, which wasn't a bad thing).
• The Joshua Tree - this album was the first I owned of theirs (when you don't the dubbed tape copy I had of War). A top 100 of the 80's list in Rolling Stone remarked that the B-sides for this album were better than the A-sides on most other 80's albums -- probably true.
• War - possibly because it's the first U2 album I ever heard, but I still love listening to it. (I always had an especially soft spot in my heart for "Surrender")

I use the term "favorite" when referring to U2's work, as opposed terms like "best", because I'm firmly of the belief that a band like U2 tends to appeal to its fans on a visceral level, where the technical quality of the music is sometimes of secondary importance. So far, I'm enjoying the new stuff. I can't say whether or not it will stretch the aforementioned favorite four into a favorite five, but the more I listen to it, the better I like its chances.

(Incidentally, if you want what I'd consider a pretty good review of the new U2 album, check out this week's Tuesday Morning 3 a.m.)

"Seems like it's always understood this time of year."
-Better than Ezra

Since I have no pressing ideas to put forth quite yet this morning, I'm taking to the site statistics again, as I sometimes do when I'm bored. One visitor happened upon my site yesterday by querying Ask Jeeves about the title of the debut album from Better than Ezra. Just in case that visitor should try again with his or her search, I've decided to answer the question directly.

The title of Better than Ezra's debut album is Deluxe. Released in 1995, it is a fine musical album, and in my estimation, probably the most consistent effort they've put forth to this point. Some of the songs are deceptively dark, and those ones are among my favorites, but there aren't many on Deluxe that aren't on my good list. For instance, "Rosealia" is about the most festive-sounding song you'll ever hear about a female in an abusive relationship. Then there's "The Killer Inside" and "Porcelain", which bring their own strains of morbidity to the listener. Dark subjects or not, these are three of my favorite Better than Ezra songs ever.

Of course, the CD isn't all darkness. I also really like the album's lead-in "In the Blood", as well as "Southern Girl" and most of all, the album's second to last track, "This Time of Year."

But enough of outdated music reviews for now. I just figured since someone was looking for it, maybe I'd write about it briefly.

"Your love is teaching me how to kneel."
-U2

I'll start by saying I am a U2 fan. Have been for more than half life. I've long maintained that however skeptical a person is of U2 as a music act, the first time you get to hear a song like "Pride (in the name of love)" or "Bad" live and in person at a U2 concert, you'll be inexplicably disarmed. The reason, if I have to guess, is that they are a rare mix of star power and deeply felt emotion. In short, they connect with people. Apparently, they connect with more people in more places than just about any other music group ever has. I am one of those folks who has already ordered the forthcoming album How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb, which is due out this coming week.

Having said that, I am happy to report that I am currently listening to the new album. I accidentally discovered a Glutter post this morning that points to NME.com, where you can listen to the album online. It's been available in various places for preview listening for a while, or so I hear from more alert fans than myself, but I thought I'd point it out for any other interested parties who haven't read it somewhere else first.

My opinion's not yet formed, but in another half-dozen songs, I'll have the first listen out of the way.

In sifting through some of the search engine key words used to lure people to this site, I've noticed quite a few incarnations of the name "Jayy Mannon."

First, let me apologize and explain that Jayy Mannon causes this page to show up in Google searches because of the list of links to what I consider to be under-appreciated musicians I added a couple weeks ago. I hadn't previously mentioned Jayy in the text of a blog entry, until now.

I first met Jayy about eight years ago. We worked together for a few years, then I transferred to a different part of the company's operation, but in the time we worked together, I became familiar with his music, and that of his band. At the time I first discovered them, they played under the name "Bonehead", which was mostly a cover band, but would occasionally sneak in a few of their growing list of original songs.

As a cover band, they were excellent (in the musical sense), the money was good, as they were highly coveted in the Philadelphia area bar circuit, but the group's core, including Jayy, eventually decided they wanted to be a music act in their own right. They made one EP (1997)and one full-length album (Fade, 1999) under the name "Bonehead," after which they were offered a contract with MCA in 2000. With MCA they ended up changing their name to "Familiar 48" and released one album entitled Wonderful Nothing (2002), soon after which they disbanded.

In 2003, Jayy Mannon and his main songwriting partner/lead guitarist from Bonehead/Familiar 48, Kevin Hugg, struck out alone under Jayy's name, and they appear to be on the verge of an independent release called Broken and Glued this fall. In the meantime, the old band seems to have regrouped, solely for the purpose of performing live, though, without having been to the new Bonehead shows, I can't say whether they're focusing on covers again, or sticking with the original music they recorded as a group.

In the few years I worked with Jayy (and with the help of many conversations about life and music), I came to the conclusion that while much of the music his band cranked out was more-or-less rock and roll, he was an decidedly non-rockstar type of guy. Even in the dim light of local celebrity and screaming 21-year-old's, Jayy never seemed too fazed or impressed by the whole scene -- probably one of the reasons, aside from pretty decent songwriting, that I've always been rooting for him to make it in the business. But we're young yet, so I suppose there's still time to hit it big.

Anyway, for folks interested in learning more about Jayy's music, visit his site, which can also be found way down the sidebar, for those of you who read down that far -- there are some free samples available in MP3 format on the site, and if you're like me, you probably like free music. Don't be afraid to check out the other artists listed down there either. Enjoy.

"If you listen real close, there's the audible sigh"
-Bill Mallonee

I have often wondered about people complaining, and I actually was talking to a friend about this last night, so it came back to the front burner of my brain. I'm not necessarily referring to everyone who complains, but rather those who complain about little things -- and I could put myself into this category sometimes. That specific segment of complainers fascinates me because I've heard it suggested that people who complain about little things are often trying to avoid thinking about bigger problems.

I have observed people about whom that statement seems especially true; meanwhile, I've seen a lot of people who put up a strong front, even though their problems are both huge and real. While I'm not totally sure about this, I suspect that those who complain the most are the most restless about their bigger concerns in life, either out of a sense of futility or lack of will to solve their problems. And the folks who carry themselves in a quieter fashion about life's bigger problems are those who have come to some level of understanding, if not resolution, concerning life's detours. Either that, or they're just walking around like human time bombs -- depending on the person, I suspect there are plenty of examples of each kind of quiet coper.

Anyway, in my discussion last night, I was thinking of a principle illustrated in Steven Covey's Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. Covey bases some of his theory on the idea that we need to identify two circles:

• a circle of concern, made up of all the things that concern a person.
• a circle of influence, made up of all the things we can actually control (at least to some degree)

Part of Dr. Covey's prescription for a successful life requires a person to identify these two categories and then figure out which items appear in both circles, thereby limiting our focus to the things that both concern us and and which we can control to some degree.
I'm not a hard-core self-help book consumer, but I must admit that reading this theory in Seven Habits represents a crystalline moment in my life. So people know, I didn't just bring up the Covey book to promote it to everyone, though I'm sure there are many folks who could benefit from it. Truth be told, the aforementioned two-circle concept is by far the clearest recollection I have of the entire book.

I think it stuck with me because I immediately recognized the truth in it, and it wasn't as if Steven Covey was the first to think of the idea (indeed, I believe he goes out of his way in the book to suggest that his ideas are gleaned and compiled from other self-help models). But Covey was the first person I read that put it in a way I could instantly understand.

There are so many people who concentrate on what they can't do, and for the purposes of this post, "can't" is to be taken literally. Many of us, myself included, can benefit from focusing on what we can accomplish and prioritizing from that point. Everything else we can wish, hope or pray for, but our energies are better spent on what we care about and can do something about.

Anything else just gives you anxiety.

After all that, I'm completely unsure that I've done anything to address how this specifically fits people who complain about little things -- maybe it should have just been a grander statement about people who worry too much, whether they complain or not.

At least I meant well.

"Everybody's got a secret buried underneath the ground;
You can take it out once in a while when there's no one around."
-Bill Mallonee

I ordered a couple CD's a couple last week, and I got one of them today. It's called Audible Sigh, from Bill Mallonee and the Vigilantes of Love. I've been listening to it the last couple hours, so I'm starting to get a feel for it, though I had a head start, having heard several of the songs before (both in concert and from a friend who had the disc before I got it). Actually I bought it for a good friend a couple years ago, and I would have bought myself a copy too, except the one I picked up for him was the last one in stock at the store. It's a pretty good album from a guy whose music I almost always like. This isn't a review, but I did want to give a little plug for one of my favorite obscure artists.

Bill Mallonee is usually on the folk-rock side, with a bit of gospel influence as well. There's a lot of soul and emotion in his stuff, and some pretty good lyrics, which probably explains my inclination toward his music. Anyway, this is another one of those mentions of something I guarantee you'll like if you're exactly like me -- but you may still enjoy it even if you're a little different from me too.

"You run like a river runs to the sea."
-U2

I finally caught up on my Mozilla versions, after hearing many encouraging things about the newer milestones that have come out over the last couple months. I got updated versions of both Thunderbird (ver. 0.7.2) and Firefox(ver. 0.9.2). No bugs so far. If anyone who reads this isn't already aware of my admiration for these two Mozilla applications, let me endorse them both one more time. Thunderbird is the incredibly useful and secure mail client built on Mozilla framework. Firefox is the browser I use, which is also extremely secure and faster than Netscape or IE (by my experience).

There are fringe setbacks due to the convenience bias associated with the lingering dominance of poorer programs like IE, but the benefits far outweigh the sluggishness and lack of security that are synonymous with Microsoft.

Other than that, no big news here. It rained inordinately yesterday all around the Philadelphia area -- lots of flash floods and the like. I've been watching the Democratic Convention in the wee hours (next month I'll be doing the same night owl gig, watching the Elephants on C-Span as well -- yes, I'm a junkie), and I have a few thoughts brewing that I'd love to share, as soon as they come together a little more -- say, in the next 12-24 hours.

By the way, I'm curious if anyone will be able to guess the relevance of the lead-in song quote to the subject matter of this post -- the irony being that I picked the quote after seeing Bono at the DNC last night, and only later realized there was another link between the lyric and this entry. Oh well, for anyone who doesn't already know, this will probably just seem stupid. Have a good day.

I want to extend a special thank you to an extremely good friend who bothered to bring a website discrepancy to my attention. Almost exactly four months ago, I posted an entry entitled Linford's Angel. In it, I mentioned, among other things, that there was a free (and completely legal) MP3 download of one of my favorite groups singing the Beatles' "Let It Be." I mistakenly failed to notice that I was linking to a page on their website entitled "MP3 Rarity of the Month".

Well either that, or I simply didn't think March was ever going to end.

So, now that I've added a corrective note to the end of that entry, I am now going to encourage readers to go to that page for this month's free legal download from Over the Rhine. But a few words of warning first, depending on the delicacy of your sensibilities, you may find it offensive (though I definitely didn't). For most people it will be one of the following: hilarious, strange or just plain useful (if you're currently in the process of potty-training?). And also be warned that it will most likely not be available in about nine days -- unless July (unlike March) actually does last forever.

"You say you've had enough... well I've had one too few,
'cause I'm a whole lot closer to sober than I'll ever be to you."
-The Guilded Lilies

This is just a quote that almost nobody will have heard at this point, but I was thinking about obscure music, and so I chose the lines above to represent those thoughts. The Lost Dogs CD I picked up at their show last week has really been growing on me, and I thought I'd mention that as well. I also recommend Andre Salles write-up on the disc -- something of a historically framed review of the album -- for those less familiar with the Dogs.

-and speaking of music that gets lost, I was combing the papers and online news sources yesterday, when I caught a couple different mentions of this item about U2 losing music from their forthcoming album, which apparently has been tentatively named Vertigo. One newspaper that had the story in the entertainment section started it by saying they'd heard of people complaining that music has lost its edge, but never a report of the Edge losing his music -- which is what happened in this case.

As a U2 fan, I had lamented the loss until I realized the only reason it was such a big deal to the record company was the idea that they might lose revenue if the music falls into the wrong hands and gets distributed illegally. But since I'm pretty sure they have other copies to use to make the album, it doesn't sound so bad to me.

While away for the past few days, one of the things I did was help set up, break down, and in between, watch, a little live music show performed by The Lost Dogs. It was quite enjoyable, as they are a band that has always put on an engaging live show. Their hallmark would seem to be stupendously harmonic vocals coupled with the kind of excellent musicianship that can be expected from three guys who've been slinging six-stringers since the seventies.

Their work tends to blend rootsy, folksy blues and rock with a spiritual flavor. I've only seen them a couple times since they came together as a group in the early nineties, and the word of mouth on their performances pretty much jibes with the decidedly professional yet unpretentious atmosphere I've experienced when attending their shows.

"Before you get sold, you get bought for a song."

I went up to New York City last Friday with my brother-in-law to catch FOW in concert at the Roseland Ballroom in the heart of the theater district in Manhattan.

The first opening act was the Robbers on High Street, a local NYC band that apparently had a following (judging from the people around me that seemed to know the words to their songs). They were musically competent (which I suppose is a compliment), but nothing really jumped out at me, as far as being interesting -- and that's not really the point of this post anyway.

The second opening act was Evan Dando, formerly of the Lemonheads. He was a bit of a treat. He opened his set with about a half-dozen numbers that just included him and his beat up acoustic guitar, which sounded much better than it looked. Then he was joined by his bassist and drummer for another five or six tunes, these with a little more energy. The acoustic part of his performance was thoroughly entertaining, and that was without him playing anything I could recognize, though I was definitely thinking about buying his CD, if it only included the opening song he played (the chorus included a line about lying "about being the outdoor type."), but it didn't, as I wasn't that crazy about paying two-and-a-half bucks to withdraw cash from the in-house ATM -- but I may hunt him down in the local record store later.

The headline act, Fountains of Wayne, was also thoroughly fun. They demonstrated an appreciation for Rock history, whether by incorporating the great guitar riff from the end of "Layla" into one of their first couple songs, or by playing a little Steve Miller later on in the show. My bro-in-law commented that he was a little surprised to hear them jam as much as they did, as their studio work tends to be fairly short and tight (I assume that's what he meant?).

They were, of course, extremely tight, though I didn't think they acted that way. Not to say they were dancing around like crazy men, but I got the general impression that they were enjoying themselves well enough, and that's a sense I like to get from a band when I see them in concert. They managed to fit about twenty songs into the mix, though they didn't play a couple songs I would have liked to hear (namely "Troubled Times" and "All Kinds of Time"). But that was only an extremely minor disappointment, as the rest of the show was pretty phenomenal.

The crowd was very into it, with a consensus of the audience singing along with every song (making me wish I had been more familiar with the body of their work, but I did know a majority of the songs). On our way into the city we expected people our age to represent a small minority of attendees, but we were pleasantly surprised to see that we were more or less in the majority, as most people there appeared to be at least in their mid-twenties on up. There was, of course, a noticeable contingent of teenagers (one of which was in our group of four) -- and it's always encouraging to see young people that appreciate well made music.

All in all, it was a great show, and I'm especially happy to report that Fountains of Wayne (btw, we even got to see their namesake as we drove through Wayne, NJ, on the way up) is definitely not one of those bands that I would disappointedly label a "studio band." They definitely held their own in a live setting. If you're reading this and you didn't heed my previous call to sample their newest album (Welcome Interstate Managers), I still highly suggest you do; if you're really lucky, maybe they'll be coming to a venue near you soon.

(I'm trying to set a personal record for title length...)

My brother-in-law has been writing music for some lyrics lately. He's told me that he even took some of the poems off the site to put music to them, along with one lyric I wrote specifically for the purpose of being set to music. I should be receiving a tape of said music in the next day or so. I'm anxious to hear what can be done with some of the words I've written when placed in the hands of someone with actual musical talent. I guess I'll have more on that in a couple days?

Speaking of my bro-in-law, I just came across an entry in Cziltang's journal about a small handful of semi-independent topics, among them are the V-chip and one of my favorite songs ever since I saw Oh Brother Where Art Thou. It was a delightful little post that I recommend to everyone -- it kind of carries on the line of thought pertaining to the need for FCC salvation. Cziltang uses a line in his post that I should have probably used by now when he writes "Yes, I know I'm speculating here, but if you wanted research, you would be at a different web page..."

And in other, more self-involved news, I received a healthy dose of email response from the past two entries (as I expect when dealing with such an, um, inspirational topic), but not a single person has yet used my new commenting system. Just an observation; I'm not sure how I feel about that, as I'm perfectly happy to receive and respond to the limited email I receive. I just thought it would be easier for folks to comment (it just seems quicker).

Well, that's all for this morning. Carry on...

"I wrote a song, but I can't read music. Every time I hear a new song on the radio I think, 'Hey, maybe I wrote that.'"
-Steven Wright

My mind's been racing these past few days, and as I have mentioned here before, that can make for the most treacherous writing conditions. Lately it's like thoughts are flying right out of my head, and I'm afraid all the best ones escape before I can close the door -- like a child trying to net a single decent butterfly when there are a thousand moths flying around his head.

I wrote one lyric over the past several days, but I don't know how it turned out yet -- I have to leave that to more objective eyes than mine.

"Let's try to find a happy game to play.
I'm not supposed to be like this, but it's okay..."
-R.E.M.

I was absent from the hometown for most of the past two days. I went to visit my sister and brother-in-law, as well as the assorted nieces and nephews. I got to play roadie for a musical gathering last night, which was pretty cool, and the music was good. It was a two man acoustic performance in a moderate to large coffeehouse setting, featuring a guy named Mike Roe.

Anyway, that wasn't my main point today. I wanted to briefly discuss sad songs. My brother-in-law was commenting on a song that he deemed the saddest song ever. The song is off of Pearl Jam's debut album, and it's called "Black."

I initially agreed with him on that, but after a couple minutes, I thought I had a sadder song in R.E.M.'s "The Wrong Child" off of Green. I get the overwhelming impression that the scenario of the R.E.M. track is more worthy of sympathy, but I settled on the notion that there are few things more pathetic than the melodramatic attitude of a guy who's just been dumped.

Well, I guess that's what I had for today. Who knows? Maybe I'll have a few more depressing selections for tomorrow.

Linford's Angel

"So many moments,
like ghosts,
slipping through my hands in vain;
you were 80% angel,
10% demon -
- the rest was hard to explain."
-Over the Rhine

There are three women whose voices absolutely slay me. I stumbled across the third voice just a couple years ago, when I first heard Norah Jones on the radio. The second voice, which I discovered about ten years ago, is that of Sarah McLachlan. The first voice belongs to Karin Bergquist, the songbird of the husband/wife songwriting team for Ohio-based group Over the Rhine.

I first heard heard Over the Rhine because one of my closest friends insisted this woman was an incredible singer, and that she was hopelessly beautiful as well. I listened to a dubbed copy of their second album, Patience, and I soon agreed with him about the voice. Then a while later, I saw them playing in a college campus lounge, and I agreed with him about her appearance. My girlfriend at the time, shortly after her first Over the Rhine concert, commented that if she were a lesbian, she'd also be attracted to this woman.

But that was almost a dozen years ago. The aforementioned girlfriend is long departed, but Karin still sings -- and I still think she's got the most soothing voice I've ever heard.

Anyway, if anyone reading this would like to sample their music, they have a few MP3's that can be downloaded for free, including a live cover of The Beatles' "Let it Be."

Sorry, for the intrusion here, but that last link will no longer transport you to an MP3 of Over the Rhine performing "Let It Be." It was actually just a link to their website's "MP3 Rarity of the Month." -I guess I should have anticipated that it would change, huh? Anyway, someone kindly notified me that the MP3 rarity currently residing there (month of July) is called "Poopsmith", which may either be hilarious, foul or completely useful if you are currently trying to potty train your child. That's all.

Suddenly there's water everywhere, and I'm not even thirsty...

Not only did the temperatures start to linger at higher levels the past couple days, but a steady rain has been falling as well. So, as the clouds turn to water, so do the snow banks of the past month. The cars that don't succumb to the moisture end up with a pretty good undercarriage rinse. It's got to be better than just road salt.

Meanwhile, I was pondering the best lines from country-style songs not written or performed by country singers/groups. I have a list of my three favorites so far:

1. "It's not as though I really need you;
   if you were here, I'd only leave you."
   -R.E.M.
2. "You can't call it cheatin', 'cause she reminds me of you."
   -Gin Blossoms
3. "Ever since you hung up on me, I'm hung up on you."
   -Fountains of Wayne (one I just discovered off the new album)

There are a couple other songs by non-country groups I like that fit this category, but I'm getting stuck on short, cleverly turned phrases right now.

"I tried to change, but I changed my mind."
-Fountains of Wayne
(from "Mexican Wine")

While there have been many musical albums I've loved over the years, there are but a handful for which I've instantly fallen. The earliest one that comes to mind is Toad the Wet Sprocket's Dulcinea, which may have the most intuitively woven string of songs I've ever heard on a CD. Then there's Better Than Ezra's 1995 debut Deluxe, which was recommended to me by two separate friends who insisted it was my kind of music -- and right they were. The third (chronologically) that comes to mind is U2's most recent studio album All That You Can't Leave Behind, which is the only U2 album (though I love them all) that I took to before getting through it even once.

I guess it has something to do with the flow of the music, almost like an over-riding rhythmic theme that, as far I as I've heard, is stunningly rare in modern music making.

Anyway, I have a new addition to this short list of what I have dubbed "first-listen favorites." It started as an e-mail suggestion from my brother-in-law, who has a knack for never having offered a musical suggestion I haven't ended up enjoying. The new album on the list is Welcome Interstate Managers, from Fountains of Wayne. I don't think he suggested the album itself, but he did say he thought I'd be interested in the group. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he had the most current F.O.W. project in mind.

And again he was right. The first three examples of first-listen favorites are unique offerings, and Interstate Managers is no less unique.

I don't mean to drag this on, but it seemed that with every other track on the CD, I had stumbled across a new favorite song. The hit single "Stacy's Mom" was the only one with which I was already familiar, and while it's an entertaining single, it's far from the best the album has to offer. If I had to pick (and I'm not sure I can), I could go with "All Kinds of Time" (perhaps the most beautiful song ever written about what goes on during a single play of an American football game), or maybe "Halley's Waitress" (which almost romanticizes the plight of diners at the mercy of an inattentive server). Maybe I'll crown co-champions instead: "A Bright Future in Sales" (for the livelier side) and "Valley Winter Song" (as a mellow favorite). And there's half a CD full of worthy challengers besides.

But that's just what I thought of it; I'm no critic, but on the off chance that you're exactly like me, I can guarantee you'll love this CD.

"Met my old lover in the grocery store
The snow was falling Christmas Eve..."
-Dan Fogelberg

A long time ago I dated a girl who had the Dan Fogelberg song "Same Old Lang Syne" on a tape she had recorded from the radio. I remember it vividly, because she liked to play this tape all the time. I heard it hundreds of times in her company -- that alone would probably make it impossible for me to ever hear the song again without thinking of her.

What reinforces this song's stranglehold on my memory is the strange experience of actually running into her in a grocery store within a few days of Christmas a couple years ago. And you'd never guess the tune playing on the store's PA system when I spotted her.

I think I saw her first -- or I hope I did, because I'd be slightly embarrassed to think she saw me scramble around a corner to escape her line of sight.

It's strange. I used to really like that song...

I guess I should be grateful that she didn't ruin "Leader of the Band" for me, too.

"Driver 8, take a break-
-we can reach our destination."
-R.E.M.

I remember not liking some R.E.M. song lyrics, simply because they didn't make any particular sense to me. There was a time in my life when I had less tolerance for ambiguity. Now I notice that I appreciate some of those same lyrics, simply because they can be molded to mean something more particular to me. Case in point: the above quote from the song "Driver 8," which I wondered about for years.

I always thought of the song in terms of people I've known who seem to feel the world will spin wildly out of control without them having their hands on the wheel, so to speak. I guess if I was honest about it, I would confess to being one of those people on occasion.

It's a strange, unconscious arrogance some of us have, to believe that no one else will be able to hold down the fort. Of course, we are right sometimes, but it appears to be a fine line, the one between responsibility and self-importance -- a tightrope I'll confess to falling off of from time to time.

I like to think I'm getting a little closer, but, as the old song goes, I'm "still a ways away."