Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Top Ten Songs, Honorable Mentions, Exhaustion

That Zen master who says that having favorites of anything prevents you from being alive to everything, maybe he's onto something. I feel dead. Still, some songs make you feel more alive than others do, and thinking about why brings up all kinds of socio-psycho-aesthetic questions. The songs may not answer them, but they give hints.

10. In Your Eyes (1986), Peter Gabriel. This song is welded to the iconic image of John Cusack in trenchcoat with boombox, but I don't have any trouble separating it from Say Anything (though I like the movie a lot, and hey how come this photo takes up so much space?), having swooned the first time I heard it, right before I took a trip to England in 1986. So I associate it more with Full Metal Jacket, on the set of which this album got a lot of play. Matthew Modine was a big fan, except compared to me. I'd been a huge, obsessive fan since Peter Gabriel's Genesis days, and then after that first solo album, my fandom turned more or less to idolatry. When I visited Bath, I knew he lived nearby. But I didn't stalk him, whatever the constabulary reports may say. I was listening to this album night and day, though, and this was the cut that I thought might trump "Solsbury Hill," the 7/4-time Robert Fripp wonder from the first album, and "San Jacinto," my fave from the Jungian-flavored "mask" or Security album. I remember driving through the English countryside at sunset, listening to this on a cassette tape, and marveling (still, after a zillion times) at the arrival of that first chorus, "In your eyes / I see the doorway to a thousand churches / The resolution of all the fruitless searches." That's what a decent British education'll give ya. By the time Youssou n'Dour takes over the singing at the end, I'm a goner. No wonder Rosanna Arquette slept with him. I probably would, too. Peter Gabriel, I mean. OK, I might sleep with Youssou n'Dour, too, if he'd sing me a lullabye.

9. Inca Roads (1973), Frank Zappa. My college years come back to me now like a wayward whiff of spilled beer and bongwater. The One Size Fits All album was an ear-opener for me, as a music student slowly realizing I'd be better off studying literature. I listened to George Duke's vocal and keyboard wizardry and Ruth Underwood's torrential xylophone on this record and despaired of ever attaining any real musical accomplishment. There are blistering Zappa guitar solos on several tracks, too, and the verbal ingenuity of "Evelyn, A Modified Dog." This is the opener, and it's so zippy and fun, you can't wait for the rest of the album.

8. This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody) (1983), David Byrne. This is from Speaking In Tongues, the Talking Heads album with the Rauschenberg cover. I confess, I actually prefer Shawn Colvin's live acoustic version (from Cover Girl, 1994), because her guitar-playing is so freakin' good, and she's a better singer than David Byrne, which is like saying Shakira can out-dance Fat Joe. Shawn Colvin makes it slow and open, so it can really work on you. The Talking Heads original is quick and tight. I think David Byrne was suspicious of his own effusive sincerity on this, so he hurried it into a party tune. When you have a line as good as "You've got a face with a view," you should really give it some room. She does. But he wrote it, and I love it either way.

7. A Case Of You (1971 & 2000), Joni Mitchell. One of my college roommates and I had a huge crush on Joni. We wore out the grooves on Blue while staring dreamily at the naked photo of her on another album cover. In the three decades between the two recordings of this song, chain-smoking wrecked Joni's voice in an awful, beautiful, terrible, ravishing way. (She says she started smoking at age 9.) The original is pure, just Joni and a dulcimer, James Taylor on guitar and Russ Kunkel on hushed drums -- an archetypal '70s folk-rock trio. The Both Sides Now version from 2000 is dark and husky, orchestrated by Joni, and the strings make you want to cry before the woodwinds arrive to reinvent the original intro. And then her voice destroys you. A spectacular reimagining of the song, and by now, every note has really been lived. It's one of the richest odes to heartbreak ever created. "So bitter and so sweet." If only my roommate and I had gotten the chance to make her happy.

6. Take It With Me (1999), Tom Waits. Tom divides his work into "Bawlers, Brawlers, and Bastards." This is a Bawler, a heartfelt valentine to his wee Irish bride Kathleen Brennan, although she helped write it. On the album (The Mule Variations, my fave Tom record to this day), it follows a raucous barbecue holler called "Filipino Box Spring Hog" (definitely a Brawler). When the blurry little piano intro of "Take It With Me" starts, it's like a shock to the system after that wild thing. In as profundo a basso as Tom has ever sung, the words offer intimacy, history, hope, faith, the works. It's not a perfect song -- you can hear the creak and thump of the piano pedals (Tom prefers "the pulp and rinds and seeds left in") and the lyric drifts a bit in the middle -- but so much the better. A lot of my favorite art insists that romantic love is the royal road to spiritual truth, and in this song, Tom Waits reaches (strains, even) for something absolute and transcendent: "There's got to be more than flesh and bone / All that you've loved is all you own." Slays me every time.

5. I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For (1987), U2. This song helped me survive the five years between the end of my first marriage and the actual divorce. There were stretches in there when I played nothing but The Joshua Tree and Springsteen's Tunnel of Love album. That Cowboy Junkies debut crept in there, too. But this was my backbone. Has an album ever opened with such mind blowing tracks back-to-back? As much as I love this song, I never jump past "Where The Streets Have No Name" to get to it, because then you lose that chiming guitar outro that this seems to grow out of. I'd always found Bono a little off-putting before this album, because my image of him was based on some concert footage that seemed pretentious. The Joshua Tree made a believer out of me. This song was the spiritual anthem of my thirties.

4. Visions of Johanna (1966), Bob Dylan. I'm talking about the live version from Biograph, not the Blonde on Blonde. In a previous post entitled "Bob, Bob, and Bob," I described the organic unity of guitar, harmonica, and voice on this enigma wrapped in a shadow stuffed in a Symbolist knish. It's one of the most sublime mysteries of folk music. What the hell is he singing about? Thank God he's never explained it. The song simply Is, like a mountain -- in this case, one made of images and characters and associations that triangulate your ass into a sling and fire you like a stone at the foreheads of Philistines, laying waste to every other songwriting giant via killer rhymes, elaborate stanzaic structure, and the most expansive musical ambition since, I dunno, Leonard Bernstein's. I vote this song most likely to win over a Dylan skeptic, because that's what happened to me. A virtuoso piece without being show-offy, it's funny as well as deadly serious. "The ghost of electricity howls in the bones of her face." When you can write like that, you don't have to explain a goddamn thing.

3. A Day In The Life (1967), The Beatles. I called "All You Need Is Love" a John Lennon song, because it was something he cooked up with George Martin. Here's a true Lennon/McCartney, but as with most of my favorite Beatles stuff, it originates with John. One common thread between these three songs at the top is an absolute mastery that gives way to wide-open, child-like, creative innocence -- almost as if the creators had no idea how songs were written, so they just followed every worthwhile impulse that came along. When my dad brought Sgt. Pepper's home from a business trip in the summer of '67, my brother and I put it on and listened, spellbound, from start to finish, looking at that amazing cover and rummaging through the little cutouts and album extras. I'll never forget, having listened to all but the last song, hearing John's echoey opening words: "I heard the news today, oh boy...". I was only eleven, but even then I knew something vast and completely unique was unfolding for me. The Beatles had opened a door to another world.

2. Suite: Judy Blue Eyes (1969), Crosby, Stills & Nash. If I had been a couple of years older, I'd have heard this at CS&N's first performance together. As it was, I was 13 and couldn't run off to join the Woodstock Nation with all the freaks from the head shop where I had my first job. Then again, if I'd gone, who'd haveswept the floor by the bulk organic grain bins? Who'd have handed out the burlap bags to people who wanted to ride the giant slide out back? Who'd have sat around staring uncomprehendingly at the hookahs and Kama Sutra oils, waiting for everybody to come back and tell me all about Woodstock? My Day In The Life point about creative innocence goes double for this song. It's like Stephen Stills grew wings. Has the illusion of unbounded spontaneity ever been more convincing in a pop song? Intricately constructed as it is, you feel it's being written as you listen. It's that free. Want to throw in some Spanish? Bueno. Want to meander through a guitar interlude with David Crosby? Why not? And if marrow must be thrilled, then by God, just build up to a crescendo and hit the most glorious series of vocal triads in history on the phrase "thrill me to the marrow." The song is about the demise of Stills's relationship to Judy Collins, but it's effervescent. I challenge any songwriter to Beat This Song. Or just try to come close. Write something this adventurous, playful, fiercely joyful, regretful, multi-layered, wild, free -- something this singularly, fabulously alive. I dare ya.

1. Little Wing (1967), Jimi Hendrix. I'm surprised to find this at the top. My favorite song? Yep, it feels true. Nothing like it anywhere in music. There are other good versions of it, though. Sting takes it for quite a ride on Nothing Like The Sun. His voice soars in a way that Jimi's never could, on a song that's all about soaring. Nobody can play guitar like Jimi, but My Best Friend Dominic Miller gives him a run. Still, my first taste was Jimi's, about a year after it came out, when I was getting my first taste of girls. The idea of this fantasy woman kind of freaked me out. "Take anything you want from me"? Uh...I'm 12 and I don't know what that might actually mean, but I'm willing to learn.... Turns out, he wrote it about his dead mother. But still. I love the carefree way he piles up the words up over a guitar phrase that he knows is going to extend over a couple of bars, so it's "Butterflies and zebras..." but there's still room for more, so he adds "and moonbeams...and fairy tales...are all she ever thinks about...riding with the wind..." OK, he was high as Halley's comet -- but free within the cosmos of his musical imagination. The "circus mind" was his, and his mother is the eternal feminine, inside, pushing this song out, newborn and screaming like feedback. It's a pure product of America, going crazy (to steal from William Carlos Williams) and a pure expression of the Muse. What would Jimi be doing today, if the Muse had vanquished the demons? Three years later, he was dead at 27. Which reminds me: Where are the 24-year-old artists now working at this level of originality and virtuosity? Who are the Mozarts of pop?

BONUS TRACKS: Here are others that vied for the top 25 but were ultimately pushed off the list. HONORABLE MENTION (in no particular order)...

1. I'm Gonna Be (1990), The Proclaimers. Well, you gotta have your double shot of Scotch. Here's the finest pair of hard-drinkin' twins ever to bellow a love boast from the British isles. What a great little thumper of a song.

2. Hallelujah (1984), Leonard Cohen. Like many people, I'd really rather listen to Jeff Buckley's cover than the original. In fact, why is there no Jeff Buckley on my list? Or Tim Buckley, for that matter? Or Tiny Tim? Something has gone terribly wrong. And how do you pick a favorite Leonard Cohen song? I could put "Anthem" or "If It Be Your Will" or "Famous Blue Raincoat" or Willie Nelson's cover of "Bird On A Wire" here and be equally sure (not) that I'd made the right choice.

3. Save It For Later (1982), The English Beat. I can't listen to this without thinking of my little brother Kip, who turned me onto the album (Special Beat Service) and my friend John Dill, who revels in the occasional Tourette's burst of '80s Britpop. This whole record is habit-forming, and Save It Fellater (alternate spelling on the lyric sheet) puts the dic in addictive. It's the quintessential English Beat number, with an infectious guitar, thumping rhythm section, and horns that pop out of a trap door somewhere between the Mos Eisley cantina and a ska sockhop. It's as queer as a three-dollar bill, and twice as rare.

4. The Mayor of Simpleton (1991), XTC. Another fine Dillio, an anti-intellectual apologia from one of the smartest songwriters ever, Andy Partridge. Basically a list of all the stuff the song's narrator doesn't know, it features one of the cleverest run-on couplets in pop music: "And I don't know how many pounds make up a ton / Of all the Nobel Prizes that I've never won." Smiles guaranteed.

5. I Can't Make You Love Me (1991), Bonnie Raitt. A crushing blow of romantic resignation, actually written by Mike Reid and Allen Shamblin. But it's all Bonnie. And Bruce Hornsby, whose massive chords are like a battering ram to the heart. If you've recently been dumped, this song could literally kill you.

6. One Mo' Gin (2000), D'Angelo. Voodoo would be on my list of top 25 albums. I think of this song as the best of the bunch, but it could as easily be "Devil's Pie" or "Send It On."

7. I Want You (She's So Heavy) (1969), The Beatles. Forever imbued with the memory of deflowering a splendid girlfriend in Denver back in 1976. This is the simplest, most relentless piece of altered blues erotica ever wrought by the hand of man.

8. If These Old Walls Could Talk (1987), Jimmy Webb. A note of apology and gratitude, strictly for long-time lovers. No teenager could ever fully understand it. For years, I myself didn't understand that it was not a John Prine song. Shawn Colvin also does a great cover of this. Jimmy Webb is a tower of talent.

9. Beautiful Boy (1980), John Lennon. If you're a John Lennon fan and also a parent, you probably have a soft spot in the exact shape of this song.

10. Sultans of Swing (1979), Dire Straits. Remember what this was like, after that wretched stretch of the '70s when progressive rock grew ridiculous and disco almost made us commit suicide and A&R cokeheads ruined everything at major labels? And then this, like a pint beer glass full of wonder thrown at your head? Mark Knopfler will forever be enshrined in the afterlife as the guy who saved pop music in 1979. Nobody else plays guitar like he does, and we knew it the first time we heard it, on this ripping tune. I mean, it's no "Three Times A Lady," but it's pretty good. (Actually, I kinda like the Commodores, but I don't like to admit it...)

11. Little Red Corvette (1982), Prince. Is "I guess I shoulda known by the way you parked your car sideways that it wouldn't last" the greatest opening of a song ever? Maybe. And of course, once you've seen him perform, you can never get the image of Prince out of the music. Bob Dylan was once asked what he thought of Prince, and he said, "I think he's a wonderboy." What Bob says, that is what I say.

12. Open (2003), Bruce Cockburn. I almost listed "Lovers In A Dangerous Time" in my top 25, so why this instead on the H.M. list? Because I saw Bruce live last fall and he opened with "Open" and it cracked me wide open. But it's too new for me to trust it to the top 25. It's from You've Never Seen Everything, which is not the best of his 30 albums, but this song is a knockout. Did you know that Bruce's old band opened for Jimi Hendrix and Cream in the '60s? See, it all comes back to Jimi.

13. Good Vibrations (1966), Beach Boys. I never much cared for the Beach Boys back in the day. They seemed so clearly a second-class act compared to the Beatles, I sort of felt sorry for them. But this is one of those rare songs that you just can't wear out. Has it ever been sampled by a hip-hop artist? Somebody should take that wild Theramin siren at the end and build a song around it.

14. Lose Yourself (2002), Eminem. The most thrilling, inspiring, grab-you-by-the-throat, Oscar-winningest rap song of all time. "Cleaning Out My Closet" may be better-written, but the power of this song is undeniable. He says he wrote it during a quick break on the set of 8 Mile, a brilliantly edited (my pal Jay Rabinowitz at the Avid) movie about rappers rapping 'n shit. Only three songs from the 21st century made Rolling Stone's list of 500 greatest songs, and this was the highest-ranked of them. (Yay, Wikipedia.) It's kind of pathetic, isn't it, to have only a couple of hip-hop/R&B songs anywhere on my list -- and one is by a white guy? Let's amend that...

15. Love Rain (2007), Jill Scott & Mos Def. This is from that album of collaborations the divine Ms. Scott did with a bunch of guys. Mos Def has never seemed like a great musician to me, but he's actually one of my favorite actors, and there's nobody except maybe Tom Waits with a cooler stage persona. Plus, if I may quote Burt Reynolds from "Boogie Nights"... what a great name! Anyway, this is an amazing collage of sound and words, and The Chick Can Sing.

16. What I Be (2003), Michael Franti. His band is Spearhead. This song is splendid. My son Oliver treated me to it. "If I were the rains, I'd wash away the whole world's pains and / Bring the gift of cool, like ice cream trucks on sunny days..." It'll make you glad to be alive.

17. Out of Range (1994), Ani DiFranco. I tire quickly of Ani's gasping delivery, but gee whiz what a musician, what a personality, and what a writer. That thing I said about the opening lines of "Little Red Corvette"? Maybe I mean it about this song instead: "Just the thought of our bed makes me crumble like the plaster where you punched the wall beside my head...." Ani's a feisty little righteous babe. My daughter Emily turned me on to her. Speaking of which....

18. I Do (2006), Emily Howard. My daughter wrote it and traveled to India to sing it at the wedding of two college friends. "It's the secret we're all in on / On the brink of the beyond." The first time she played it for me, I was a puddle by the end.

So, it's really a top 40. Or 43. But that's the list. Despite my dissatisfaction with its mainstreamness, mostly-maleness, and Anglocentricity, it feels pretty much like my aesthetic on parade -- as of this week, anyway. Comments? Quibbles? Derision? Addenda?


Tina said...


Can't decide if I'm more wowed by your music knowledge, your writing ability or your mention of Fat Joe.

Wilst thou be burning a CD to go along with the list? Pleeeease?

Jasph said...

Wow, that's a good idea. Burning CDs, that's where you put a round thing in the slot thing and then do something, right?

I've heard it's easy. The people I heard it from just don't understand that all I want is my old record collection back and a brand-new B&O turntable.

Anonymous said...

I can't believe you don't have anything by the New Christy Minstrels on here. Dag, dog. Don't make me take off my shoe and clobber your fantasy B&O turntable...

But really. What fun to read. Thank you for wearing yourself out writing it. Although I might have to quibble about who introduced you to the English Beat. I could have sworn it was I, Joy of the Bells.

stace said...

You and I have suuuch different musical tastes but there are a few things we both like huh? I always did like that Talking Heads song. And the Eminem song.

"Suite: Judy Blue Eyes" made me feel very deep and philosophical when I listened to it as a little kid. Then again, so did the Moody Blues' "Nights in White Satin," so I don't know how much of a recommendation that is. "Breathe deep, the gathering gloom!" HAHAHAHA! Really though, SJBE is a nice song.

And love the English Beat one, though the best English Beat song is "I Confess," esp. where he sings "My life's not over/please get out/I know I'm shouting/I like to shout!" and the music crescendoes.

P.S. I couldn't remember my password so I had to create a new account and now I have a blog again. Because I couldn't figure out how to not get a blog. Damnit.

djayt said...

he's got a daytime job, he's doin' alright...

weirdscary how many of these songs would be on my list.

Jasph said...

Did I diss my sis with a sin of omiss? Has it come to this in my blog abyss?

Joy, all I remember about my first English Beat experience is being in a car with Kip and (I think) Greg Bruch (and you too?) and listening to a Whole New Thing. But you know what? Now that I think carefully back, it was you who pointed out the alternate spelling on Save It For Later. Kip, shmip! Surely it was you who really knew the album.

Plus Stacey, who's probably right that "I Confess" is the best song on it. The lines you quoted were always my faves, too.

Dan, let's have the list! Come on. Join the self-indulgent blog squad.

scotland said...

"Did a vehical come from somewhere out there........
Thanks for the read. I do think there could be a future$$$payoff for anyone facile enough to organize a celebrity series of fave recordings, a good charity
effort at the very least. Like Christeen/Sixteen said "Good tunes is good tunes." not a bad philosphy coming from a Disco-Ball as it were.

djayt said...

Maybe one of these days for the listing, meantime (and it's not really a very mean time, it's an ok time) my personal theme music, if I could have it play upon entering rooms, etc., would be ...

Demolition Man- Police. The bass line sticks in my head for days, just keeps thumping like it's permanently playing somewhere and you can join in or not, but it's never gonna stop playing. I love when songs do that.

Anonymous said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Anonymous said...

“More Than This,” Roxy Music

“Here’s Where The Story Ends,” The Sundays (perfect album)

“More, More, More,” Andrea True

“The Best Is Yet To Come,” Mel Tormé version

“Should I Stay Or Should I Go,” The Clash (or "Train in Vain." both great.)

“City of Blinding Lights,” U2 (though I also like "Mysterious Ways," and "All I Want is You")

“True to Myself,” Ziggy Marley

“Let’s Get Lost,” Chet Baker

“All I Need,” Air/Beth Hirsch

“What Goes On,” The Velvet Underground

“Astral Weeks,” Van Morrison (G. played it in the morning after the first night I stayed man.)

“Here and Now,” Letters to Cleo

“Rattlesnakes,” Lloyd Cole and the Commotions (perfect album)

“Crazy In Love,” Beyonce / Jay-Z (it's those horns! they just kill me! and I like it when he says, "I don't make the list, don't be mad at me." I don't know why.)

“Block Rockin’ Beats,” Chemical Brothers (I also love "Galvanize," even if it did get used in a commercial for crappy beer.)

“The Paris Match,” The Style Council/Tracey Thorne (curse you i-Tunes! for not having this one.)

“Kissing the Lipless,” The Shins

“Sanctuary,” The Cult

“Taste,” Phish

"Rio,” Duran Duran (Jim, I'm sure you meant to include this one and just forgot)

“Fool in the Rain,” Led Zeppelin

“Black Postcards,” Luna

“Once in a Lifetime," Talking Heads

“Monter au Ciel,” Transglobal Underground/Natacha Atlas

“Suffragette City,” David Bowie

“Rock On,” David Essex

Jasph said...

Wow, Stacey. I hope this appears on your brand new inadvertent blog.

I don't know half of your list, probably because my interest in music, which had been mostly jazz through the dark ages of the late seventies, dropped out almost completely in the early eighties, when I had kids. I was listening to Bert and Ernie while you were dancing to Roxy/Duran/Clash.

The note on "Astral Weeks" makes me think that a great list would be songs tied to romantic history. But then I'd have to admit that "The Best of Bread" album ("Baby I'm A-Want You," anyone?) played a key role in briefly rekindling a doomed college passion. And I don't dare confess to that... D'oh!

Hey, somebody deleted a comment. I blame Alberto Gonzales.

djayt said...

I found a diary underneath a tree,
and started reading about... killing myself because it's just... so... sad...

Anonymous said...

OOooh, songs with romantic history, that's a fun topic. I don't know the Bread song, but since I like plenty of cheesy songs (see list above), I would never judge.

R.E.M.'s Murmur always makes me think of making out with my boyfriend when I was in high was the only slow/non-punk album he had.

And before that there was the boy who sang that song to me on the last day of summer camp but I can't remember the name of it. So embarrassingly sweet (the memory, more than the song.)

And now that I think of it, an ex who wound up bugging me was ALways playing Bob Dylan! And John Prine (sp? I think that's the name.) And Billy Bragg, singing stalwart socialist songs. I think I had to listen to them after a too-long trudge home from the food co-op carrying a backpack full of bulk quinoa and such.

djayt said...

bulk quinoa and such.

Now, that sounds like a folk album! I would buy that.

I envy anyone who doesn't know the Diary song.

Jasph said...

That settles it! Bulk Quinoa is the name of my next band. That I won't form.

It beats Bread, because it's right down to the grain and also implies commerce. Rootsy, yet pre-packaged. Plus, most people can't pronounce it.

Bulk Quinoa will only cover songs by bands with food-related names:

The Banana Splits
Humble Pie
Hot Tuna
Phish (sort of)
Peaches & Herb

Might also cover Norah Jones. She seems edible.

Top 5 Bread Songs on the Bulk Quinoa playlist:

1. Diary (thanks a lot for putting that in my head today, Dan)
2. Anything I Own
3. If
4. Make it With You
5. Clouds (actually a post-Bread song by David Gates, but the point is, Moog!)

djayt said...

Songs That Do What I Want Them To:

(in no particular order)

Supply and Demand- Hives
Are You Gonna Be My Girl?- Jet
C'mon, C'mon -Von Bondies
Demolition Man- Police
Tush- ZZ Top
Revolution- Beatles
Let's Go Crazy- Prince
Sheena is a Punk Rocker- Ramones
Echo Beach- Material Issue
Voodoo Chile- Jimi
Ironman- Sabbath
Smoke on the Water- Deep Purple

This is a decidedly not romantic list. Unless you count me loving all these songs, which I do.

Anonymous said...

Supply and Demand...must download that. Cause I looooove "Hate to Say I Told You So"!

I don't know what the heck y'all are talking about with the Diary song. So you envy me.

Jasph said...

Wow, what a dirty dozen! I confess, I've never heard The Hives or Material Issue (as far as I know), but the rest of the list feels like many edges, many angles. Getting to the end of it is like Indiana Jones trying to get the idol out of the booby-trapped cave. Just when you think you've escaped all the poison darts, sharp blades and spiders, you hear the rumble of "Voodoo Chile" behind you and have to run for your life. You look back and you're about to be flattened by "Ironman" but you just escape, tangled in the dense cobweb of "Smoke On The Water."

Then you go back to your quiet, unassuming life as an academic stud. Ahhhh.

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