Playlists

In July Communist Daughter is going to release the follow-up EP to their acclaimed album Soundtrack to the End and we have an advance copy here in the shop if you’re curious to hear it.  Last week Johnny Solomon came by so I could interview him for a piece I’m writing for the City Pages about the new disc.  He and I talked about the differences between it and the album as well as the likely direction the band will take with it’s next full-length release.

I also asked Solomon about his song “Not the Kid”, which was on Soundtrack to the End and was featured in an episode of my wife’s favorite TV drama “Gray’s Anatomy” (which is about the robots who colonize Mars).

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(“Not the Kid” by Communist Daughter)

Solomon’s simple and fairly accessible song is built over an intimate, personal narrative.  Those of us who grew up before digital video and photography relate to our childhood through the windows offered by the few images that were captured on photo paper.  When I bring to mind an image of my brother, for instance, how much of what I see in there is what was stored in my memory before he passed away and how much is what I take from the photographs that “refresh” that memory.

When I was little my father was a professor at the University of Minnesota.  He spent a lot of time writing, which at the time one did in front of a big desktop computer with a black and green screen and 5 1/4″ floppy discs.  I can remember spending Saturday mornings on the floor next to his desk trying to distract him from his work – hoping to go to the park or out for an adventure or just to get his attention so I could show him the toy or rock or comic book that I was excited about.

And while I’m writing by myself in the record shop this sunny Saturday afternoon, I’m just as often writing at our dining room table with my son at my feet trying his very best to break my concentration.  “Poppa, look at what Batman’s doing!”  “Poppa, what’s the name of this dinosaur?”  “Look, Poppa, it’s your favorite, Iguanodon!”

Seems like history is repeating itself.  If only somebody would write a nice, thoughtful folk song about it…

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Oh, yeah.  Well if only somebody would write a better song about it then.  Seems my general distaste for Harry Chapin hasn’t subsided since the last time we posted one of his songs (here).  I have this weird memory of a music appreciation class in junior high school in which we listened a worn-out copy of Verities and Balderdash and read along.  I think the same teacher explained to us how the Beatles faked Paul’s death and how Brian Wilson invented chamber music.  I’m pretty sure she is the reason I hate baby boomer rock so much.

At the time I preferred Cat Stevens’ “Father and Son” because it took the side of the teenager.  I liked Billy Joel’s “My Life” too.  I was thirteen and wanted nothing more than for my parents to “go ahead with [their] own [lives] and leave me alone,” until of course they did.

And then you’re on the road to “Not the Kid” and to a confused adulthood never on good terms with the past.  The thing about “Not the Kid” is that some of us don’t feel a connection to the children we were and others would really like to have that just long enough to resolve some things.  I feel like I really lost my relationship to my own childhood when I lost my brother because so much of it now seems like a restless dream.

And having children changes your perspective, which is something missing from Johnny Solomon’s song.  I can look at “Not the Kid” and relate to his perspective but I am not that man anymore.  Nothing in this world changes your way of living like being a parent, and all of my regrets have eroded away leaving behind a solid bedrock on which I hope to build a better life for my children – the only regret that remains is when I feel like I’m not succeeding at that.

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(“My Daddy Plays Guitar in the Folsom Prison Band” by Linda Plowman)

I’m amazed by the enormous courage it takes to be a child.  I watch my son navigate this world in which he doesn’t know the rules, and in which he is dependent on the adults around him to tell him those rules, and the anxiety it forces on him breaks my heart.

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(“Your Daddy Loves You” by Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson)

My Dad

It’s amazing how much of a difference in his day I can make by setting aside the work I am doing for a few minutes and look at what Batman’s doing, or at the Iguanodon in his dinosaur book.  After all, he’s right – Iguanodon is my favorite dinosaur.  He fucking rocks.

I don’t begrudge my father for the work he was doing those Saturday mornings (anymore), just as I hope someday my son will forgive me someday for leaving him feeling small when I’m trying to finish one project or another.  Recently the kids and I started construction on a gigantic pirate ship in our backyard for them to climb on, so I feel like I can be counted on to do things for them.  It’s just that those big things you do aren’t as important as the tiny moments.  Yep, not even a giant pirate ship.

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(“My Father’s House” by Bruce Springsteen)

Neither of my parents hassled me about the music I listened to growing up, although I’m sure they would have liked to talk about it.  Neither complained when I’d bring home turntables and 8-Track players and take them apart.  They encouraged me to spend as much time studying as I did on projects like that, but they forgave me when I didn’t.  And both of them encouraged me to write as soon as I learned how, and now I’m getting paid to write about music – I owe all of that to them.

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(“Oh My Papa” by Eddie Fisher)

I guess if I could have a father’s day wish it would be that I don’t have to do anything for anybody else – no writing, no cleaning or tagging records, no fixing of anything anywhere no matter how urgently broken it may be – so that I can pay attention to my kids.  I’d like to play with Batman and look at pictures of dinosaurs without interruption for a day.  I’d like the time to be a father.

Tomorrow’s post:  One of my father’s favorite records.

A rerun today: Last night Laura and I saw Jonathan Richman perform with longtime drummer Tommy Larkins at the Cedar Cultural Center. We had a ton of fun, which is what’s supposed to happen at a Jonathan Richman show – hd was in especially good form and I don’t think there a single disappointed person in the crowd.
Here’s a post from last year about some of my favorite Jonathan Richman songs:

Jonathan Richman is one of my favorites, and also one of Laura’s least favorites, so I listen to his great records on the days when she’s in the shop.

How awesome is Jonathan Richman? I was at a show where women threw flowers on the stage. He wrote “Roadrunner” and was a punk rocker before there were even punk rockers, he even got bored with punk before anyone else. He was already post-punk before there was punk to be post- to. He played mini-golf with Gram Parsons the day before the Grievous Angel overdoesed. He dodged a bullet in a Farrely Brothers movie. That’s how awesome Jonathan Richman is.

And he could rhyme better than anyone else. For instance…

In the park, near the dark
What do I now hear, hark hark
- “Rockin’ Rockin’ Leprechauns”

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If you listen to all your Jonathan albums back-to-back, Rock n Roll with the Modern Lovers has got to be the silliest – in fact, “Rockin’ Rockin’ Leprechaun is nowhere near the silliest song, although it is the only one that contains the word “hark”. I think it’s the only song I own on any non-Christmas record that contains the word “hark”.

Elsewhere on the album Jonathan extols his “Dodge Veg-o-Matic” and actually, seriously, sings “The Wheels on the Bus”.

I’ve been all over the world but I love New England best
I might be prejudiced.
- “New England”

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I feel the same way about Minnesota, but I just don’t think I could express it so poetically.

They’ve tried to set him up with Tiffany and Indigo
But there’s something about Mary that they don’t know
- “There’s Something About Mary”

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It’s kind of hard to imagine which came first, the title to the Farrely Brothers’ 1998 comedy or the chorus to Jonathan’s song. In the film he and drummer Tommy Larkins perform together in the tradition of a Greek chorus, appearing alongside the actors and commenting on the story through song.

The question is, who the hell is named Indigo? That’s not a real name, that’s a stripper name.

Well I walked past just like I say
And I felt this hurt that would not go home
I can’t expect that you’re gonna see it my way
But you may not know the trees I’ve known

- “Corner Store”

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Is it just me, or does he laugh at his own rhyming in the middle of the second verse of “Corner Store” (which, incidentally, has got to be Jonathan’s only “message song”)? It’s not that unusual for Jonathan to laugh in the middle of a verse, and I think in this case what’s funny is that the line would have been better finished “a hurt that would not go away” which of course would rhyme with the wrong line. He has to sing something different to retain the ABAB structure of the song – In fact, Jonathan’s steadfast reliance on formal song structure is what leads him to invent the sort of goofy rhymes we have grown to love. But never was it as magical as in this last song…

Abdul’s not seen Cleopatra
It’s been almost now a year
How I wonder where she’s at-ra
And I wish the old girl were here
- “Abdul and Cleopatra”

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Actually, out of the hundreds of records I own this is the best rhyme, period. The only thing more awesome than rhyming “at-ra” with Cleopatra is doing it three times. And doing it in the first line of the first song on the record.

Over the winter I posted a picture of the roses that took seven years to bloom, finally showing us what color they’d be around this time last year (see it here).  I guess now they’re making up for lost time because there are dozens of blooms, and dozens more to come.  If last year was a good year for the roses, this is shaping up to be a great one.

Of course George Jones’ “A Good Year for the Roses” isn’t the happiest song in the world.  Elvis Costello re-made it on his album Kind of Blue, but his version is just as sad.  Both are country classics – I should really add the original to my playlist next month when I DJ for the Cactus Blossoms at the Turf Club (They play every Monday night, 9-1, and on the third Monday I spin westerns, old time country and honky tonk records between their sets).  Say, I could also play “Eleven Roses” by Hank Williams Jr, I guess.  Or “Rose Garden” by Lynn Anderson.  That one was written by the awesome Joe South.  Or I could play “Roses for Mama” by CW McCall, which is already in my Mother’s Day country music playlist (lotta songs there).

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(“A Good Year for the Roses” by Elvis Costello)

Some of the best rose songs wouldn’t fit in a country set, though – for instance, as much as I like this next song I could never in a million years convince the Cactus Blossoms to play it.

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(“Every Rose has its Thorn” by Poison)

My old friend Ben will be shocked to learn this is the first appearance of Poison in the three year history of the Hymie’s blog.  I suppose we could try to work in “Nothing but a Good Time” sometime soon.  Or their cover of Loggins and Messina’s “Your Mama Don’t Dance”.

And we’ll leave the subject of roses on a lighter note, with Ben E. King’s classic “Spanish Harlem” – probably a song more universally beloved than, um, Poison.

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(“Spanish Harlem” by Ben E. King)

The Cactus Blossoms may not have reached household name status yet (give ‘em another year) but their first disc is a house favorite here at Hymie’s.  Nothing on the disc captures how much fun their shows are, however – You can catch them every Monday night at the Turf Club, and they’ll also be opening for Jack Klatt when he releases his new album Mississippi Roll (reviewed here) this upcoming Sunday night at the Cedar Cultural Center.

On the third Monday I spin westerns, old time country and honky tonk records between their sets.  It’s the most fun I ever get to have as a DJ because because I’m playing country music for a crowd that loves country music.  Usually I’m playing country music for, um, a different crowd.  One song that’s always fun to play, no matter where you’re DJing is Tex Ritter’s “Blood on the Saddle”, because invariable people look at you like you’re doing something wrong.

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(“Blood on the Saddle” by Tex Ritter)

No, that’s just what it’s supposed to sound like.  Tex Ritter had an amazing voice and his cowboy songs were often exciting and dramatic.  A few other Tex Ritter facts:

- He must have harbored dreams of public service, having run in the 1970 Republican Senate primary in Tennessee (got his ass handed to him in a ten gallon hat by Bill Brock, who then whomped Al Gore Sr.  Ritter had studied political science and economics when he went to the University of Texas in Austin as a young man.

- He is the father of actor John Ritter, best known as Jack Tripper on Three’s Company, a television sitcom that ran for an alarming eight seasons.

- The triple album set An American Legend by Tex Ritter includes spoken introductions to the songs and captures his encyclopedic knowledge of western lore and trail songs.  It’s one of the best cowboy records of all time.

Recently, we had another record that makes people look at the DJ like he’s doing something wrong.

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(“Scratchy” by Travis Wammack)

Travis Wammack was all of seventeen when he recorded “Scratchy”, a goofy re-working of Mel Torme’s “Comin’ Home Baby” that features a backwards tape loop in the middle.