Showing posts tagged music
As long as I’m beating up on old hippies: I somehow missed that yesterday was David Crosby’s birthday. Let the whipping commence:
I’ve always held Crosby up as being representative of the absolute worst aspects of the Baby Boomer/60s generation—basically, a bunch of people that, for however brief a moment, had something like a genuine chance to actually change the way the world works, and who instead wound up being more or less carbon copies of their essentially conservative parents, only with superficial “cool” attitudes that only underscore their hypocrisy. People who were happy to do drugs and have promiscuous sex, but when it came down to doing the hard work, they just retreated. 
My two favorite Fuck Yous to Crosby are Neil Young’s "Revolution Blues", a vicious song about a Manson-like cult attacking sing-songwriter enclave Laurel Canyon via dunebuggy, a song that Crosby dismissed as being too dark, specifically the song’s concluding line: “I hear that Laurel Canyon is full of famous stars/but I hate them worse than lepers, and I’ll kill them in their cars”, and, secondly, Jackson Browne’s "For Everyman", a song written in direct response to the Crosby Stills & Nash song “Wooden Ships”, about a gang of hippie idealists sailing off into the Grey Havens after a nuclear war. Where “Wooden Ships” is an elitist dream of leaving the cruel world behind, “For Everyman” refutes that entirely: it is democratic at its core—enlightenment is for everyone, Browne says, not just guys with walrus moustaches who’ve got enough money to escape the responsibility of living in the real world. 
Hilariously enough, Crosby plays rhythm guitar on “Revolution Blues” and sings harmony on “For Everyman.”
He is 72 years old. He will probably outlive us all. They say evil never dies.

As long as I’m beating up on old hippies: I somehow missed that yesterday was David Crosby’s birthday. Let the whipping commence:

I’ve always held Crosby up as being representative of the absolute worst aspects of the Baby Boomer/60s generation—basically, a bunch of people that, for however brief a moment, had something like a genuine chance to actually change the way the world works, and who instead wound up being more or less carbon copies of their essentially conservative parents, only with superficial “cool” attitudes that only underscore their hypocrisy. People who were happy to do drugs and have promiscuous sex, but when it came down to doing the hard work, they just retreated. 

My two favorite Fuck Yous to Crosby are Neil Young’s "Revolution Blues", a vicious song about a Manson-like cult attacking sing-songwriter enclave Laurel Canyon via dunebuggy, a song that Crosby dismissed as being too dark, specifically the song’s concluding line: “I hear that Laurel Canyon is full of famous stars/but I hate them worse than lepers, and I’ll kill them in their cars”, and, secondly, Jackson Browne’s "For Everyman", a song written in direct response to the Crosby Stills & Nash song “Wooden Ships”, about a gang of hippie idealists sailing off into the Grey Havens after a nuclear war. Where “Wooden Ships” is an elitist dream of leaving the cruel world behind, “For Everyman” refutes that entirely: it is democratic at its core—enlightenment is for everyone, Browne says, not just guys with walrus moustaches who’ve got enough money to escape the responsibility of living in the real world. 

Hilariously enough, Crosby plays rhythm guitar on “Revolution Blues” and sings harmony on “For Everyman.”

He is 72 years old. He will probably outlive us all. They say evil never dies.

A buddy of mine and I were pretty hammered the other night, drinking beneath the supermoon beside a dried-up lake bed. Because he makes poor decisions, earlier that day he’d bought Skeletons In The Closet, the Grateful Dead best-of, and we were listening to it, sort of. Not even being drunk on possibly years-old Texas Spirit bourbon can make the Dead sound that good. But anyway, we were listening to “Casey Jones”—a studio version of which apparently does not exist on Youtube—a song about an engineer who is “riding that train, high on cocaine.” Granted, this is a fairly awesome subject for a song, but for the fact that “Casey Jones” is possibly the least frantic, coked-up song of all time. “Casey Jones, you better watch your speed,” sing these lazy potheads, all of them sounding on the verge of falling asleep at their instruments. The moral of the story, of course, is this: The Grateful Dead are kinda awful.

I’m not one to go around advocating murder here* or anything, but let’s stop and think for a minute about just how bad a circa-2001 John Lennon solo album would have been. 

*or here

Imagine: it is September 26, 1991. Jazz legend Miles Davis sits alone in his home, watching this evening’s episode of “Wings”, a corny, whitebread program Davis loves, though he will never admit it. On the TV, Joe is suing Helen for damages she did to his office. The screen goes dark, and a commercial comes on. Davis laughs a raspy laugh. It is the last episode he will ever see. 

dglsplsblg:

Little Richard being completely serious (x)

in 2014 they are still trying to give all the credit to fucking elvis.

Yeah,when they should be giving it to Chuck Berry.

PS there is no reason to rag on Elvis. Elvis was great.  

(Source: bitchcraftandwiggatry)

(Reblogged from shmemson)

Katy Perry’s music—her whole persona, really—is so strange: this weird mix of sugary, little kid-type innocence mixed with a sort of Marilyn Monroe-style look-at-my-big-tits sex kitten quality. Which is fine! It’s just strange to me. I imagine she appeals both to little girls and their pervert fathers equally, for different reasons. 

I’m not really trying to come off as some kind of Katy Perry expert or anything here, and I’m not really even trying to Figure Out What She Means, Culturally. I’m basically just trying to say that I hear this “Birthday” song all the time on the radio, and I recently saw the video, and I think it’s strange that the video for a song that appears to be about licking cake icing off someone’s dick features the artist surprising birthday parties full of kids, like she’s one of the Wiggles or something. 

Go on with your lives, people. Nothing to see here.

bigredrobot said: What movies are your personal "canon"? How about records/songs?

hyenabutter:

Boy. This one could go on forever. OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD: Raiders of the Lost Ark, Pulp Fiction (a movie that I’m not that crazy about now, but it was one of those sort of life-changing experiences when I first saw it), almost any Coen brothers movie, Rushmore (the best Wes Anderson movie by an incredibly wide margin), Dead Man, The Assassination of Jesse James By The Coward Robert Ford, half a dozen Robert Altman movies, Jaws, most of Paul Thomas Anderson’s movies. I dunno. I have excellent taste in movies, but not in a real film school sort of way.

Records and songs is an even deeper well—again, just spitballing: Astral Weeks—the first five or six Van Morrison albums in general, actually—Bone Machine by Tom Waits; “No Moon On The Water” and “Farewell Transmission” by Jason Molina/Magnolia Electric co; Summerteeth, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, Warren Zevon, Red Headed Stranger by Willie Nelson; Scar and Short Man’s Room by Joe Henry. “The Tennessee Waltz” by anybody. “Red River Valley” by anybody. “Peace In The Valley” by anybody. Any song about valleys, it seems. The first Son Volt album. “Ghosts” by Albert Ayler, this one version I downloaded years ago and have no idea where the recording actually comes from. Every pre-hiatus Steely Dan album except Pretzel Logic. ”Dublin Blues” by Guy Clark. Sam Cooke singing “Lost and Looking”. Every Lamchop album. This list is endless and I’ve barely started. 

Been thinking about this just a bit and I gotta make an amendment:

I went down to Lafayette this weekend to visit my friend Charlotte, who moved down there back in December of 2012, and is soon—in less than a month, actually—to pack it up and head for Portland, Oregon, hometown of Ramona Quimby, Art Alexakis, and Mel Blanc. I’ve only seen her a couple of times since she went back to Lafayette, and I haven’t visited her there at all, so this was as good a time as any, I guess. 

There’s a couple of songs that would get played a lot around our place when we lived together. We’d have people over quite a lot, either to just sit around and hang out or maybe have dinner or every now and again an actual party. And hanging out with Charlotte this weekend while she was in the process of packing up and selling literally almost everything she owns, a lot of that came back to me. 

The songs that got played back then are John Prine’s “Angel From Montgomery”, the first scratchy side of Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, lots of Sam Cooke, “Bankrupt on Selling” from The Lonesome Crowded West, the title track from In The Aeroplane Over The Sea, "The Love You Save May Be Your Own" by Joe Tex, Charlotte’s own arrangement of "I Have The Moon" by The Magnetic Fields, “Just Be Simple” by Magnolia Electric Company. Others.

About a week after she moved back down south, I remember putting on Car Wheels On A Gravel Road, an album I hadn’t listened to in years, and when the last track rolled around, I had to physically stop the stereo. I absolutely could not listen to it. I’m not sure if I’ve ever had that visceral a reaction to a piece of music. I guess it goes in the canon, huh?

(Reblogged from hyenabutter)

texts:

James: Listening to Zevon’s "Jungle Work" on repeat while reading back issues of Soldier of Fortune and cleaning my uzi.

Me: You only own one uzi?

James: Good point. It’s not really jungle work if you’re not dual wielding. 

Pictured above: the author, October 2009, about to enjoy the world famous taco-burger

First off, let’s all agree right now that “funny” music is the single worst thing in the world, and then we can continue:

A friend of mine showed me this thing the other day (which I realize is several years old, so don’t give me static for not being up to date on what people on the internet like) and I still can’t really get over how annoyed by it I am. 

This is the kind of song that nerds love, and it does that thing that nerds do, where they think that by being clever, they’re being funny. And god knows those two things are not the same at all. There’s also that other thing that nerds do, where they act superior about stuff that normal people like, like stupid pop songs that use the same four chords. 

Of course, the problem with that attitude is that just because a song uses the same chords as another, that doesn’t mean the two songs are the same: a hamburger and a taco got the same stuff in them, but that don’t make a hamburger a taco, or vice versa. You can’t seriously equate “With or Without You” with “Barbie Girl” and expect me to have anything approaching respect for what you’re doing.