Last night, while watching a televised Yule log, I heard a version of "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" played on the piano. My first thought was, "This is a well-played rendition and good accompaniment for the Yule log." My second thought was, "This version would also work in a PSA with a gravely serious announcer asking, 'Did you know that 85% of homes have undetected radon?'"
If that isn't a 2020 mindset, I'm not sure what would be. Here's hoping that 2021 is a much better year for the world.
Looking for music with that Christmas charm that isn't Christmas music? Try the various artists compilation, "Ringing Clear: The Art Of Handbell Ringing." From Felix Mendelssohn to Scott Joplin, these compositions bridge the gap between Christmas and the new year gracefully.
Kudos to the new dental hygienist. While singing along frequently with the office's streaming service during today's appointment, she had the courtesy to sing in tune. If that hadn't been the case, I would have needed to maintain a poker face to avoid grimacing during off-key renditions of "Save The Last Dance For Me" and "The Way You Look Tonight."
It would have been a stretch for me to claim that the instruments being used to scrape my teeth were making me wince in pain, so I appreciate not having to make that judgment call.
One of the catchiest cartoon themes I remember from childhood is "George Of The Jungle." I haven't seen the cartoon in decades, but I remember the theme song clearly. There almost isn't any need to watch the cartoon, as the theme spells out everything you need to know about the characters.
I've been trying to sleep, but the inner voices of my mind's soundtrack keep advising, "Watch out for that tree!" For one day, at least, I'm OK with that. It's sound advice, I'm sure.
...anyone wanting to hear "Carol Of The Bells" is advised to follow the St. Louis Symphony's lead and ask four percussionists to play it. The arrangement I heard four of their percussionists play is perhaps the best I've heard.
...if you play Eddie Dunstedter's version of "March Of The Three Kings" on an LP, know that if your cat is sitting on the record player at the time, it might startle her. She might want to know where the organ music is coming from, take it out on the record player, jump on it, and cause the needle to skip. She then might jump down from the record player, causing the needle to skip again. She then might set off in an attempt to find those three kings and admonish them for disturbing her...
...At least, that's my experience.
Every year since receiving it as a gift from my parents in 1982, I've read stories from the Jack Newcombe-edited anthology, A Christmas Treasury. One essay that hit home with me this year is George Plimpton's "The Christmas Bird Count." In it, rival groups of National Audubon Society birdwatchers are obsessed with spotting more birds--especially rare ones--than any other group.
I've never gone birdwatching, but when it comes to music, I know that feeling well. Say, have you heard that new Warren Wolf rendition of "Sleigh Ride?" Through an energetic vibraphone arrangement, he conveys the thrill of coasting down snow-packed trails. If you're looking for a warm, comforting arrangement of a familiar carol, try Ken and Leslie Bier's guitar and flute rendition of "It Came Upon The Midnight Clear." Searching for an imaginative interpretation of a more lighthearted Christmas favorite? Then, check out Ensemble Galilei's take on "Frosty The Snowman." Initially, it's fit for a conga line before giving way to a Celtic tap dance.
Oh! And then, there's that original 45 mono mix of "Light Of The Stable" by Emmylou Harris. There are about 20 extra seconds in which the guitar doubles back briefly, and backup singers Linda Ronstadt, Dolly Parton, and Neil Young contribute an extra round of Hallelujahs.
Reading what I just wrote there, I think I should take up birdwatching. I suspect I'd enjoy trying to find a marbled godwit.
Since the first time I heard it in on "A Prairie Home Companion" in 2016, I look forward to watching video of Chris Thile, Aoife O'Donovan, Yo-Yo Ma, Edgar Meyer, and Alex Hargreaves performing "All Through The Night." I can think of few vocal/instrumental collaborations that move me to such an extent. The tenderness with which Thile and O'Donovan sing "...Night..." stops me in my tracks every time and makes Christmas feel incomplete without it.
The last time I checked on YouTube, however, 11 people had given their performance a thumbs down. That floors me. I know music is subjective, and there's no law that forces people to account for their taste. Still, I wonder: Were those 11 listeners hoping for an ocarina solo instead? Does any piece of music gentler than Black Sabbath's "War Pigs" strike them as too sentimental? Or, are they just contrarian for the sake of being contrarian?
On Christmas Eve, especially in this difficult, divisive year, it feels wrong to have any other outlook than "Live and let live." So, Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it--even those contrarian listeners...I suppose.
Holiday highlights heard today:
KDHX 88.1 FM
WSIE 88.7 FM
K297BI 107.3 FM, a.k.a. WFUN-HD2
Six Christmas gems heard today:
KDHX 88.1 FM
WSIE 88.7 FM
KEZK 102.5 FM
For some Mardi Gras-style festivity this Christmas, check out "Joy To The World," as performed by Boots Randolph with Tommy Newsom's Jazztet. Prior to hearing it, I'd never imagined "Joy To The World" as a tribute to New Orleans, but this Randolph-Newsom rendition is fit for a parade on Bourbon Street.
If you're not self-conscious about walking with a bounce in your step, you might enjoy the unusual rhythm in which The Tommy Eyre Trio plays "Ding Dong Merrily On High." I'm not used to hearing piano and vibes play this carol in this style, but it's a great interpretation, fit for a stroll outside or a shopping mall visit.
What Christmas music hits the spot when you've felt sluggish and under the weather for four days? My answer: the "Winter Dreams" CD by R. Carlos Nakai & William Eaton. Released in 1990, the blend of flute, lyre, and guitars transports the listener to the desert southwest for expansive, atmospheric renditions of "I Saw Three Ships," "The First Noel," "Silent Night," and other standards.
While hearing me play it in the '90s, my father said that it sounds like "Dances With Wolves." It does. Even my cat, Collette, was transfixed by the peaceful instrumentation earlier tonight. Her kneading of me was gentler, and she sat still, with her ears perked up, for an unusually long time.
If you've read this blog for any length of time, you've probably gleaned that I like most Christmas music. There are, however, a few Christmas songs that do nothing for me. I've been pleasantly surprised this year not to have heard Elmo & Patsy's "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" on any radio station or in any store thus far.
Thank you to the powers that be for that display of mercy upon me.
Credit to my brother for making me aware of this medley: I'm impressed that Mindy Gledhill alternates between two Christmas carols that aren't the most obvious fit. Her "Patapan/O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" medley has captured my attention this year for its ingenuity. She sings both carols with equal conviction, and the timbre of her voice brings to mind a blend of Suzanne Vega, Petra Haden, and Shawn Colvin.
I thought I'd heard every Christmas medley by now, but this is a pairing of carols I would not have imagined.
I don't know how I missed knowing of its existence until this month, but hearing Steeleye Span and Maddy Prior sing "The Boar's Head Carol" has left an indelible impression. It's worth hearing for the powerful a cappella intro alone. Apparently, it was recorded in a room with great acoustics, as the ensemble's voices seem to ping off of the walls and demand that your ears take notice.
In a version that doesn't quite work, the carol's lyrics about the boar's head dish might sound like they're asking to be parodied. This rendition, however, gives them legitimacy.
Ten noteworthy Yuletide selections heard this morning:
KOSI (Denver, CO)
KWMU-3 (St. Louis, MO)
WXPN-2 (Philadelphia, PA)
After listening to it again for the first time in several years, I realize I haven't given Dave Brubeck's "'Homecoming' Jingle Bells" its due. It's an intriguing piano arrangement, in which one hand starts off playing a consistent rhythm, suggesting falling snow; meanwhile, the other hand plays the familiar "Jingle Bells" melody. Forty-eight seconds in, Brubeck goes into partial Vince Guaraldi mode briefly and then transitions seamlessly into a ragtime-at-a-saloon arrangement. It's an unusual blend of influences that deserves more radio airplay.
Each year, I write about my experience calling a Dial-A-Carol service. In past years, people could call in and request any carol from a live singer or singers. This year, to keep carolers from being exposed to the coronavirus, callers can request one of nine secular Christmas tunes and hear a prerecorded version of non-professional singers performing it.
I'm glad I chose "Winter Wonderland." The vocal harmonies were sincere and peaked, in my opinion, with the lyric, "We'll say, 'No, man." Although I miss the spontaneity of previous years, I understand the necessity for the altered format. I would never begrudge anyone for wanting to stay healthy and safe, and the recorded "Winter Wonderland" contained a surprising bonus. The ukulele accompaniment added an unusual but appropriate layer to the tune. If the carolers had been live, I doubt that a ukulele player would have been standing by to inject such nuance.
I hope the carolers and ukulele player are pleased with their rendition of a tune that still sounds fresh after Christmas and that other callers enjoy their rendition as much as I did.
One night close to Christmas in the mid '90s, I stopped by Streetside Records. I was surprised to see a bin offering Fred Waring And His Pennsylvanians Christmas LPs.
Although I hadn't gone in planning to buy such an album, I purchased one. It was only a dollar, and it was worth it to hear the good cheer with which that ensemble sings "A-Caroling We Go."
If you're looking to prolong the warm Yuletide glow that "Here We Come A-Wassailing" typically provides, there's a segue for you.
This afternoon, I listened to Dar Williams sing "What Child Is This?" for the first time in a while and was reminded how reverential and accessible her version is.
Without meaning to, my cat, Collette, undercut some of the reverence by attempting to bite my foot, getting a claw caught in my sock, and being dragged around inadvertently as I tried to unhook her claw from the sock. Who knew that a thoughtfully sung version of "What Child Is This?" would bring out my cat's feisty, combative side?
Not just any vocalist could pull off this embellishment and have it sound natural. At one point in "Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful," Lou Rawls sings, "Oh, come on, all ye faithful." That one added word, the way Rawls sings it, adds fervency to the carol's request that people gather and worship the Christ child. Except for Ray Charles, I can't imagine any other artist phrasing the request that way without sounding awkward.
Not just any musician can incorporate "Mexican Hat Dance" into a version of "Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow" and make it sound natural. Guitarist Joe Pass does, however, late into his rendition, and somehow, it flows.
Although this has not been a good year for the world, numerous songs have offered appropriate recognition of this, comfort, or escapism. Here are 25 of my favorite tunes from 2020:
25. Domino-Nicole Atkins (Blondie-like vocals but breathier over a haunting, sinister groove.)
24. Simple Math-Kathleen Edwards (This track's endearing lyrics are a tribute to the importance of lifelong friends.)
23. Power UP!-Blair Bryant (This bass-anchored track is ideal for driving and adds bite to a smooth jazz station's playlist.)
22. In The Rain-Ashleigh Smith featuring Chantae Cann (Need a dose of positivity?)
21. Beautifully Out Of Place-Sierra Hull (A celebration of not fitting the mold. Also recommended: "Middle Of The Woods," which could segue with Nickel Creek's "Reasons Why.")
20. Courage-Lianne La Havas (La Havas's intimate, sincere vocals fit her lyrics perfectly.)
19. Devil May Care-Kandace Springs featuring Christian McBride (A swingin' vocals-and-bass cover of one of Bob Dorough's best songs.)
18. Dying To Believe-The Beths (This infectious, guitar-laden April release from vocalist Elizabeth Stokes and company segues well with the band's own "Happy Unhappy." Also recommended: the tune's video in which the band helpfully shows how to write a song.)
17. Tijuana Taxi-Brass Attack BBZ (A faithful rendering of a breezy Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass tune.)
16. Vibin' In Time-Alex Parchment featuring Phillip Doc Martin (Released in April, this upbeat trumpet melody with strong bass underscoring is one of 2020's smooth jazz standouts.)
15. Whatever You Want-Crowded House (A catchy, direct admonition to sheeple; admittedly, with such stellar gems as "Weather With You," "Walking On The Spot," "Distant Sun," "Tall Trees," and "How Will You Go" in the band's catalog, my expectations of this group are reflexively stratospheric.)
14. Song For A Rainy Morning-Tommy Emmanuel (An appropriately titled midtempo, contemplative guitar piece.)
13. Till Your Luck Runs Out-The Overtures (This tune doesn't break any new ground, but that's not a criticism. It feels like any number of mid '60s pop tunes. You've heard lyrics like these and jangly guitar melodies like these hundreds of times, at least. That familiarity doesn't detract from the tune's pleasant, welcoming vibe or keep it from being one of 2020's catchier melodies.)
12. Simmer-Hayley Williams (If the rage about which Veruca Salt sings on "Seether" or Alice Merton sings on "Lash Out" entices you, "Simmer" will likely draw you in. Its gripping intensity keeps me coming back.)
11. Leaning On You-Haim (The guitar sound brings Lindsey Buckingham to mind. The Haim sisters have an appealing acoustic, matter-of-fact approach to their lyrics and instrumentation here. This melody reminds me of Harper Simon's "Wishes And Stars" and Thao & The Get Down Stay Down's "Kindness Be Conceived.")
10. The Trappings-Yo-Yo Ma, Stuart Duncan, Edgar Meyer, Chris Thile & Aoife O'Donovan (I wish Thile's show, "Live From Here," was still around. It would be a natural showcase for this blend of top flight vocalists and instrumentalists.)
9. Johnny-Sarah Jarosz (Jarosz writes and sings compellingly about a less than ideal, stuck-in-one-place scenario. "Johnny" also sports one of this year's stronger choruses.)
8. Nos Voamos-Gato Blanco (This spacey, uptempo June release blends chill, international, and smooth jazz genres, with appealing guitar, keyboard, and vocal punctuation.)
7. For The First Time-Best Coast (Strong lyrics for when you've been through one or more arduous challenges and emerged with your sanity intact and a better sense of self.)
6. This Life-Kendra Morris (If I didn't know otherwise, I would have sworn this was an early '70s R&B track.)
5. We Here-Joey Alexander (Warm interplay between Alexander's piano playing and Anne Drummond's free-as-a-bird flute stylings; this is one of 2020's best jazz tracks.)
4. The Cure-Watkins Family Hour (Sean and Sara Watkins provide some of my favorite vocals of 2020 on this tune about a fresh start. This is no surprise, coming from two of Nickel Creek's three excellent leaders. In my opinion, this is the strongest track on their "brother sister" CD.)
3. Time After Time-Bill Baird (A faster tempo, a calliope feel in the instrumentation, and modest, somewhat buried vocals make up this fun, infectious take on Cyndi Lauper's 1984 hit. If "Time After Time"'s lyrics move you, but you wish to take the edge off of them, this October release is your cover. My ranking of it might surprise some readers, but I've listened to it often over the past two months. It injects some sorely needed whimsy into 2020...)
2. Fragile-Marcus Eaton (...Alas, I can't ignore the bleak reality of 2020. In August, I wrote about my struggle to rank this tune. It lands in this exalted spot because Eaton's cover of Sting's "Fragile" encapsulates this year. The song's range is ideal for Eaton's voice, and he sings it with gripping solemnity. I remember the chills I felt hearing Sting's version shortly after the September 11, 2001 atrocities. Those chills returned while listening to Eaton's rendition. The lyrics about how fragile all of us are and how life can change instantly for the worse are disturbingly apropos for this pandemic...)
1. Nazareth-The Staves (...On a related note, we all age, and our lives are fleeting. However, filtered through such moving vocal harmonies, those inevitable outcomes don't sound so ominous. This is one of 2020's best-sung tunes. For its honesty and sensitivity, it warrants this year's top ranking.)
I know the local radio station playing all Christmas music must have done research. I know they're just trying to play Christmas songs the audience wants to hear. I know that's how they get their best ratings. That said...
...What have I done to deserve hearing two different versions of "Santa Baby" so frequently on the same station since last month? I like most Christmas music--but not "Santa Baby," in any incarnation. I can't be the only listener who wishes the woman wanting the sable would just plead her case to Santa directly and not sing about it for the rest of us. It would be even better if she'd adopt a conscience and not ask for animal fur as a gift in the first place.
Another entry in the "Orchestra directors have quirky personalities" canon: My high school orchestra director, Mr. D., was displeased with the way two violinists had just played. Instead of asking them what went wrong or telling them they needed to practice more, however, he asked, "When did you guys have your lobotomies?" A cellist across the room protested, "You can't ask them that!"
Mr. D. didn't respond to her protest. Not surprisingly, the violinists didn't answer Mr. D.'s question, either.
Eight of the better tunes I've heard today:
KDHX 88.1 FM
WSIE 88.7 FM
K297BI 107.3 FM, a.k.a. WFUN-HD2
Once, at a previous job, a sports photographer returned to the office a little later than expected after taking pictures at a game.
"Sorry I'm a little late getting back," he announced to no one in particular. "I was busy doing the mummers' dance."
On second thought, I don't think he was actually late. I think he was looking for a way to get some humor from Loreena McKennitt's "The Mummers' Dance," a surprise hit in 1998. New age vocalists who sing with epic grandeur don't make the pop charts often. McKennitt did, however, and deservedly so, in retrospect.
For nearly 40 years, I've looked forward to hearing the Campbell Radio Playhouse production of "A Christmas Carol," starring Lionel Barrymore. I make sure to listen to it on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day every year. While hearing it on Christmas Eve in 1984, I noticed there was still time after the show and commercials ended. "How will KMOX fill the time until the top-of-the-hour news?" I wondered. I was pleased with the station's decision and said to no one, "Oh, good. They're playing Percy Faith and his orchestra's version of 'Joy To The World.' I've got that on an LP, and it's the best, most triumphant-sounding version of it I've heard."
Admittedly, that was an unusual reaction for a 14-year-old. At age 50, however, I still think it's the best rendition--and I've heard many more versions of "Joy To The World" over the past 36 years.
At least 10 years ago, during a Christmas sale at Webster Records, a clerk asked if I wanted any of the CDs I was buying gift wrapped. I declined politely, even though I planned to give at least one of them as gifts.
I probably should have accepted her offer. I've known from an early age that almost everyone wraps presents more symmetrically than I do. In fact, I suspect that my frustration over not being geometrically inclined with gift wrapping caused me to startle some sheep once.
Although I don't think any store should require its workers to wrap customers' gifts, I always appreciate the courtesy of the offer.
While listening to John Fahey's version of "The First Noel" tonight, I realized there's a quality it shares with Pete Seeger's rendition. Both interpretations have an endearing deliberateness to them; if a student is starting out on guitar, Fahey's version would be ideal to learn. Fahey's playing and Seeger's singing stick almost resolutely to the text. The asterisk that "almost" implies, however, makes all the difference. In both versions, there's just enough of a freewheeling quality to put each artist's stamp on the carol.
Both artists interpret "The First Noel" with feeling--restrained but sincere feeling.
Years ago, thanks to the power of suggestion, I discovered an instrumentalist I might never have heard otherwise. During a Webster Records Christmas sale, Dave McKenna's "Christmas Ivory" CD was playing over the speakers, prompting me to buy it. Here's one reason why...
...When you think of "O Holy Night," you probably don't think of it in a stride piano style, suitable for a friendly meeting at a neighborhood saloon. It's time to start thinking of it that way. McKenna's interpretation gives the carol a ragtime vibe that works better than I would ever have imagined. It's an unusual style and tempo for "Cantique De Noel," but neither of McKenna's unconventional choices detract from its reverence.
Also, if you like that rendition, there's a strong chance you'll enjoy McKenna's take on "I'll Be Home For Christmas."
I had an odd thought in the middle of a recent deep sleep. I thought--and might have even said to no one, "My high school jazz ensemble's performance in 1987 of the Kim Carnes/Kenny Rogers/James Ingram hit, 'What About Me?' could have used more pizzazz. Looking back, we all played it competently, but we didn't emote all that much. At least in concert, we shouldn't have sounded so detached."
Then, I went back to sleep. After all, I couldn't change the past.
From the back cover of the LP, "The Best Of The Roger Wagner Chorale Christmas Carols:" "This monophonic microgroove recording is playable on monophonic and stereo phonographs. It cannot become obsolete..."
I like the certainty of that proclamation. Decades later, record players still exist, and vinyl has come back around to being cool again, so just maybe...
I'm listening to Kenny Burrell's version of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas," and it strikes me as fitting for 2020; through his guitar, especially in the intro, Burrell conveys a tempered view of the holiday. There's a turbulent, wistful undercurrent in the tune with glimmers of hope. If that's not fitting for this year, I'm not sure what carol would be. I think the next time I play it, I'll segue it with Stevie Wonder's version of "The Christmas Song." I prefer my optimism in ascending order--and, after a year like this, I imagine a lot of other listeners do, as well.
In the spirit of Thanksgiving, thank you to all family members and friends who attended any concert in which I played the bass, especially when it involved having to sit through an avant-garde, discordantly-composed piece that wasn't especially hummable. Not every piece of music is easy on the ears, so thank you for supporting my years in the arts despite this.
While listening to a Christmas LP by harpist Sylvia Woods last night, I was surprised to see that an upcoming medley of "The 12 Days Of Christmas" and "Deck The Halls" clocked in at only two minutes and 15 seconds.
I thought, "Although neither of these carols are top-tier ones to me, I'm curious to hear how she's able to play both of them in just over two minutes."
Smartly, Woods alternates between the two carols and plays only select verses from "The 12 Days..."
After hearing them that way, I wish more artists would take a cue from her on those two carols. "...12 Days..." sounds less tedious, and listeners can still hear the essence of both carols.
In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I thank everyone who has ever recorded any pleasant memories or nostalgic mementos for me and allowed me to record them. Among other highlights, I appreciate having access to audio of family members and friends, family cats meowing, and my radio shows.
So many memories in life are here and gone. I thank my parents, brother, and friends for blunting time's impact. Thank you to everyone who has preserved time on tape so thoughtfully for me over the years.
How long does it take, after your cat has kneaded you and sat down on your lap, for your feet to fall asleep? Per my cat, Collette, the answer is eight Christmas carols. At least, that's what her demo conveyed yesterday.
What's the general duration of a cat kneading you with her paws before she sits down? According to my cat, Collette, it's four Christmas carols. At least, that's what her demo conveyed Friday.
I was trying to sleep, but Thin Lizzy's song, "Jailbreak," kept invading my thoughts. I haven't heard the song in years, and lyrically, it has no relevance to my life. And yet, there it was, running through my mind continuously.
Such is the power of a memorably rockin' guitar lick.
While playing the bass in a Summer production of "Snoopy" 30 years ago, I told the music director during a break how much I've always enjoyed Vince Guaraldi's "Peanuts" music. She immediately broke into Guaraldi's "Thanksgiving Theme," one of my favorites, on the piano. The song wasn't in the production, which made me all the more thankful to hear it. It still brightened my mood--even in July.
An eclectic selection of tunes I've heard today:
KEXP (Seattle, WA)
KYXY (San Diego, CA)
WOMM (Burlington, VT)
WRTI-HD2 (Philadelphia, PA)
WXYC (Chapel Hill, NC)
After hearing it last night, the AgesandAges indie rock version of "We Need A Little Christmas" has grown on me. Given the song's general preciousness, singers often sound overly cutesy when tackling it. AgesandAges avoid this by sounding like The Cocteau Twins but with less production gauze on their vocals. The unconventional pauses in the rhythm are slightly jarring at first, but I came to like them fairly easily.
For some listeners, the combo of indie rock and "We Need A Little Christmas" might be reflexively off-putting. Give AgesandAges a chance, though, and you might like how they've made the tune more bearable.
I remember one co-worker, upon hearing that another co-worker had been a DJ, asked him if he had studied broadcasting in school.
"I have an associates degree in broadcasting," the DJ replied.
That's the only time I've ever seen anyone ask a DJ about his college degree. Radio is one of those fields in which a degree doesn't really matter, regardless of how hard you worked for it. For a DJ, what counts is your ability to perform on-air and convince program directors to hire and keep you. I was surprised that the questioner didn't follow up with questions about the DJ's experiences in radio instead.
KEZK has already started playing all Christmas music. I love Christmas music and play more of it than the average listener, but I don't feel like glossing over Thanksgiving. In that spirit...
...There's nothing like a contemplative harmonica piece to convey the feel of Autumn, November, and Thanksgiving all at once. The harmonica is especially prominent in John Sebastian's instrumental rendition of "Wagoner's Lad." Whenever I hear it, I picture a prairie in Autumn around sunset. It's a standout track on the Windham Hill various artists compilation, "Thanksgiving."
Takashi Yoshimatsu's perfectly titled piece, "Autumn: Dream Song In November," could serve, in my view, as a quiet coda to "Wagoner's Lad." Yasuo Watani's subtler harmonica playing complements Shin-ichi Fukuda's reflective guitar style.
Listen to these pieces back to back and savor that perfect-for-the-season feel.
Five standout tunes heard today:
KDHX 88.1 FM
WSIE 88.7 FM
KSHE 94.7 FM
In the midst of standards such as "All Of Me," "As Time Goes By," and "Misty," The Real Group's closing track on the "Debut" CD stands out. It's an a cappella cover of Barry Mann's 1961 hit, "Who Put The Bomp (In The Bomp, Bomp, Bomp.)" The five singers pull off a spirited rendition, staying true to the original version's sense of fun. Covering a well-worn oldie and emulating its full-of-life feel takes confidence, and all five vocalists rise to the occasion here.
I don't remember a conductor addressing this situation because it doesn't happen often: What should you do if a string on your instrument breaks while you're playing in concert? I remember this happening to a cellist once. To my surprise, she sat down on the piano bench next to the conductor in the middle of a piece and whispered to him what had just happened.
I was playing the bass and had to turn my attention back to the music, so I'm not sure what happened next. Short of walking off stage with the cello, however, what else could she have done?
I thought I'd get in the spirit of Halloween this year by listening to some spooky radio dramas. Although I enjoyed some of them, I bailed on a few. I could only tolerate so many unprompted or barely prompted exposition clumps; too often in such dramas, protagonists and antagonists feel the urge to tell bartenders, cab drivers, or other strangers their life stories.
Also, for a time, "Tiger" was overused as a term of endearment in such dramas.
I listened to fewer radio dramas this Halloween than planned. In the year of a global pandemic, I'm up for escapist fare. I don't, however, want much of it to be eerie.
Six ear-catching tunes heard today:
KDUR (Durango, CO)
KUCI (Irvine, CA)
WWFM-HD2 (Trenton, NJ)
I've written previously about Chaka Khan's "Ain't Nobody," "The intro draws me right in every time. This is one of Khan's most powerful hits that doesn't leave your mind easily after you've heard it. 'What Cha' Gonna Do For Me' has a similar effect."
Thanks to WSIE, I've been reminded of how well the tune's melody retains its funk as a piano/saxophone instrumental. If you haven't heard Tom Grant's version, check it out.
While writing my last Music Choice highlights recommendations, I came close to including "Master Charge" by Albert Collins. Instrumentally, it's strong, with blistering guitar licks and a great hook. The lyrics, however, about a wife who keeps charging expensive clothes are too stereotypical for my taste.
Collins is a renowned blues artist. An early album of his, "Truckin' With Albert Collins," is one of the best collections of blues instrumentals I've ever heard.
Instrumentally, "Master Charge" lives up to that standard. Lyrically, however, it leaves something to be desired.
What song matches the mood of a Fall day with perfect weather and your relief about a return to normalcy when your preferred presidential candidate takes office?
My answer: "A Lovely Day" by Gil Scott-Heron.
Whew! With the news of Joe Biden's victory, my welcome earworm today has been Enigma's "Return To Innocence." I've been singing it, however, as "Return To Sanity."
The tune's yawp of exultation is certainly warranted today.
Another reason I miss KCOU: One DJ could say to the other, "That song reminds me of Mungo Jerry's 'In The Summertime,'" and without planning it, another DJ standing nearby could jump in and lead the two of them in an impromptu verse of it.
There aren't many other work situations where you can show you love the gig on-air like that.
I've gotten impatient while waiting for all the presidential election votes to be counted. For at least the past hour, "Tired Of Waiting For You" by The Kinks has been my earworm of choice. I want Joe Biden to win, and I want all the votes to be tabulated, though, so I'm going to take my own advice and stop being impatient.
Ordinarily, I wouldn't seek out the song, "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious." For my taste, it's too precious and is a true earworm once you hear it. However, after looking at the electoral college map on the CNN site, I started saying, "Arizona, Michigan, Nevada, and Wisconsin," in rhythm and realized that those words have 14 combined syllables and fit rhythmically with "Supercali...," etc. Those four states are Joe Biden's path to victory via the electoral college at this time, so I'll overlook my dislike of the song and keep reciting those words to that rhythm.
I won't sing it, though. I have my limits.
Seriously, though, for the sake of sanity, decency, and democracy, I hope Biden pulls off the win.
The chorus of The Manhattan Transfer's "Nothin' You Can Do About It" is running through my mind on this extremely consequential, course-directing--hopefully, course-correcting--election night. If that doesn't signal at least a hint of anxiety, I'm not sure what would. I'm still cautiously optimistic that, unlike in 2016, things will turn out the way I want.
Alas, there's nothing I can do to influence the end result except vote, and I did that earlier today.
What would it say, I wonder, if the song running through my mind tonight was "Cast Your Fate To The Wind?"
Tonight, on the eve of the presidential election, I'm cautiously optimistic that things will turn out as I want. Still, there's a chance things might turn out badly. I keep thinking of the chorus of "19th Nervous Breakdown" by The Rolling Stones.
Although that's an understandable outlook, it's not particularly healthy.
My subconscious mind craves a break from the heaviness of the pandemic and political mudslinging. That's why David Byrne's "Make Believe Mambo" has been my mental soundtrack for the past hour. The lyrics are beside the point to me. To escape 2020's negativity, I keep hearing Byrne's band raising the roof and kicking up dust, growing increasingly louder and brassier...
...Try it. If the horns don't make you forget your earthly cares for at least one romp through the tune, I don't know what other escapist fare to recommend.
Kudos to the KTRS host who told her audience this morning not to mistreat black cats, because of the misguided superstition that they bring bad luck. She also mentioned that a lot of shelters won't let people adopt black cats on or around Halloween, out of concern that they'll be mistreated.
It shouldn't need to be said, but cruelty to animals has no place on Halloween or any other day.
After a peaceful evening, my cat, Collette, is making up for lost time this morning. So far, she has bitten my feet, tried to pull food out of the refrigerator, and gotten a claw caught in my sock. After several minutes of her out-of-control antics, I sang to her, jokingly, to the tune of the commercial jingle, "A mountain man lives by his own set of rules." (What product is that for, incidentally? I haven't found it yet, and I've been searching.) However, I changed it to "A kitty cat lives by her own set of rules."
I'm sure that wasn't news to Collette.
Nine early morning highlights:
KDHX 88.1 FM
WSIE 88.7 FM
KCLC 89.1 FM
Wednesday night standouts, heard via Spectrum:
'70s
Adult Alternative
Gospel
Jazz
R&B Soul
Soft Rock
Sounds Of The Seasons
...if you're looking to be haunted by an eerie tale of vengeance, listen to Nickel Creek's version of "House Carpenter." When I saw Nickel Creek in concert here, violinist/vocalist Sara Watkins told the audience, "Be prepared to be freaked out."
Listen to the lyrics, and you'll understand why her warning was necessary.
How do you call out a listener who thinks he's fooling you with a phony English accent? You take the approach an AM talk show host did here years ago. I remember this happening twice, when callers claimed to be from London. Both times, the host asked, "Say, I've forgotten. Who's the prime minister over there?"
Both callers, caught off guard, responded with some variation of, "Um...It used to be Margaret Thatcher." "Yes, it did," the host responded. "Who is it now?"
As I recall, both callers hung up quickly.
While driving one recent night, I heard Michael Franks sing "Antonio's Song" on WSIE. I have the CD, "Sleeping Gypsy," from which it comes, and I know the general feel of the song. As I attempted to sing along, however, I realized that I don't actually know the lyrics. Granted, no one else was around to hear me sing, "La, la, la, la, la-la-la, Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah-blah." After a verse of this, I decided, "It's best if I just listen to Franks sing about the positive effect Antonio Carlos Jobim's music has had on his life. These are his lyrics, and I don't know them well enough to even fake my way through them."
Heard out of context on a California radio station: "Our solution is solid, fact-checked information."
In an ideal world, this wouldn't need to be spelled out. Listeners should be able to take this for granted from any news source. I've hardly listened to the station, so I don't know the extent to which it's true. Given that it's a stated priority, however, I hope it's always the case.
In all the time I programmed my own music on different radio stations, I'm proud to say this only happened once:
One day, at KCOU, I overestimated my ability to run to the record stacks and find a good segue with the song I was playing. I ran into the studio just as the record ended. With no other song cued up, I flipped the record over and started playing an alternate mix of the song I'd just played.
At that moment, I remembered the words of former program director Jon, who had said the previous year that he wished DJs would loosen up and be more adventurous on the air.
"No one's going to start screaming at you because you missed your segue," he said...
...and, the following year, those words held true for me. And, why shouldn't that have been the case? Lives didn't hang in the balance.
"This is college radio," I reasoned. "Who says I can't do this just this once?"
Listening to records has been challenging this week. My cat, Collette, insists on sitting on top of the record player. If I attempt to move her, she'll likely bite me. Two nights ago, a song skipped one verse ahead when Collette jumped on the phonograph. When she jumped down, however, the needle jumped back, letting me hear the verse I'd missed.
I'm glad to know that the record player and Collette have that equilibrium. If you're going to disrupt someone's song, that's only fair.
I've described myself before on this blog as a music snob. It's always my hope, however, that I never become so elitist that the Ray Stevens--or Henhouse Five Plus Two, if you prefer--version of "In The Mood" stops making me smile.
I remember first hearing it in Dr. C.'s Jazz, Pop & Rock class. The tune elicited a big laugh from the class when the ensemble let loose with a loud, "BUCK, BUCK!" Listen for it at the 2:04 mark.
I don't ordinarily pray on this blog, but I will today. Lord, please never let me become so refined that I can't see the humor in chickens singing a big band standard. Amen.
I'd never seen a stage full of people suddenly beam from ear to ear on command, until...
...Mr. Z., my high school drama director, barked, "Smile!" at the actors during a rehearsal of The Music Man. Everyone's face brightened instantly. I started smiling, even though I was in the pit orchestra below the stage.
I still wonder why Mr. Z. chose that moment to decree smiles all around. After all, the cast was singing "Iowa Stubborn."
When you take a philosophy class, be prepared to explain how any object exists. In 1990, I remember my philosophy teacher asking the class, "How do you know that anything exists--this desk, that pencil, this (upon spotting a student's Walkman) Screaming Trees tape?"
The teacher made several more references to the Screaming Trees tape. I don't recall how we proved that it existed. I know the band must have been real, however, because I played their music the following year on KCOU. (In fact, I just listened to "Bed Of Roses." I'd forgotten how it was one of the better indie rock songs of its time.)
I wonder what the equivalent of a Screaming Trees tape is for today's philosophy instructors--and how students prove that it exists.
You're a middle school musician. Your orchestra has just finished rehearsing a rather slapdash rendition of a piece. You could stare sullenly at the music after such a reckless performance, or you could do what I once saw a cellist do.
At the end of the piece, she turned to the other players in her section and announced, "Thank you! I did it all!"
It won't salvage the piece, but at least, everyone will have a good laugh.
I can't be the only person who, upon seeing a display of Twizzlers licorice in a store, starts thinking of the song and dance, "The Twizzle," from a 1962 episode of "The Dick Van Dyke Show." I imagine an assembly line of older confectioners murmuring, "Twist a little, then you twist a lot...," while making Twizzlers. After a while, they probably don't even realize how involuntary that reflex is.
On second thought, I wonder if any of the candy makers use, "Twizzle left, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8..." as their go-to lyric at work.
Or, do they sing, "Twizzler left, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8...?"
During my first quarter in high school, I heard a few students asking teachers for their quarter grade estimates up to that point. I asked my high school orchestra director, Mr. D., for an estimated grade, thinking he'd say something like, "Don't worry about it. The way you play, you've got an A." Instead, he replied,"A minus...A minus to B plus. What's with this vibrato you've got?" Mr. D. was referring to my unorthodox left hand position when doing vibrato and tendency to use it only sparingly.
Despite my unorthodox approach to vibrato, I got an A in orchestra that quarter and every other quarter. I got the message, though; even if you play well, don't coast and take your A grade for granted.
Heard Tuesday during a California radio station's pledge drive: "I will consider you a loser, too, if you haven't donated yet. There. That got you motivated, right?"
I wonder if anyone warned the DJ about the pitfalls of such a blunt approach. The hard sell doesn't always work.
Happy 33rd birthday, KDHX! I've heard such an eclectic array of artists from so many diverse genres on that station over the years. I don't know if I'll be around 33 years from now, but if I am, I hope I'm congratulating KDHX then on 66 years of invaluable service to St. Louis and beyond. Here are nine noteworthy tunes I've heard on KDHX and two other stations this morning:
KDHX 88.1 FM
WSIE 88.7 FM
KEZK 102.5 FM
Seven tunes, covering a 55-year span of music, heard today:
KPTZ (Port Townsend, WA)
KZSC (Santa Cruz, CA)
WCBN (Ann Arbor, MI)
WRTI (Philadelphia, PA)
WXYC (Chapel Hill, NC)
After hearing me answer the phone in KCOU's business office, the general manager, who liked my polite phone voice, asked, "If I give you a cookie, will you answer the phone all the time?" I thanked her for the compliment but declined to answer the phone constantly.
Maybe I was too rigid in my refusal. After all, if the reward is good enough for Cookie Monster...
In the '80s, while recording radio shows on tape for a radio station that wasn't actually on the dial, I started a short-lived pick hit feature. I chose a song that wasn't a hit that I thought had the potential to make the charts. One pick hit I chose was the Daryl Hall/John Oates tune, "The Reason Why." Looking back, there were at least three reasons why it was naive of me to think it would ever be a hit:
Perhaps it's jumping the gun to call a cover tune released eight days ago overlooked. Nevertheless, I recommend Bill Baird's new rendition of Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time." A faster tempo, a calliope feel in the instrumentation, and modest, somewhat buried vocals make up this fun, infectious take on Lauper's 1984 hit. If "Time After Time"'s lyrics move you, but you wish to take the edge off of them, this is your cover.
Thursday night standouts, heard through Spectrum's cable service:
Easy Listening
Jazz
Light Classical
R&B Soul
Solid Gold Oldies
Sounds Of The Seasons
Wednesday and Thursday highlights:
KUTX (Austin, TX)
KVSF (Santa Fe, NM)
WFMT (Chicago, IL)
WNMC (Traverse City, MI)
WRUV (Burlington, VT)
WTUL (New Orleans, LA)
It was refreshing to hear a DJ extend professional courtesy this afternoon to the host of the next show. Before starting his final music sweep, the DJ said, "Just one more set (from me), and then, there'll be a nice jazz show."
That shows impressive team player spirit--and a commendable lack of an ego.
When I worked at WEW 770 AM, someone had made prints of a Newsweek cover from December 7, 1992. Under the headline, "The New Middle Age," an animated man is saying, "Oh, God...I'm really turning 50!" Someone at the station added a second word balloon reading, "...and I love 77 WEW!"
I have a copy of that print on my refrigerator. Those who know that radio station know that the added punchline doesn't work as well today because the station has an international format instead of the big band/music-of-your-life format it used to have.
That's appropriate, however; the radio business is ever-changing, and so are the times. One part of that punchline still rings true, though; the AM radio audience skews older...
...and, as I turn 50 today, I'm one of those older listeners.
Last night, between calls at work, I checked the weather app our company uses. I started reading about the overnight frost advisory, getting as far as, "Frost could kill s," before having to take a call. While I was on the phone, I thought, "Surely, the advisory doesn't read, 'Frost could kill someone,' does it? Frost doesn't do that, and that would be an awfully blunt advisory. After I hung up, I read the advisory in full. It said, "Frost could kill sensitive outdoor vegetation if left uncovered."
Whew. Although I don't wish for the ruination of anyone's carrot crop, it's good to know that, despite what Michael Murphey's song, "Wildfire," would have you believe, there is no such thing as a killing frost.
I was always curious to see which Mr. D. would show up on the first day of college orchestra class. Would his optimistic side win out, leading him to tell the orchestra, "Look at this sea of cellos. Look at this sea of basses?" Would it be the informational Mr. D., reminding us that he has office hours and that we're all welcome to stop by? Or, would he set the tone for the school year more sternly?
When a conductor has multiple personality facets, it's interesting to see which one shows up.
Heard on an AM radio garden show today: "I always say, 'Don't prune broadleaf evergreens heading into Wintertime.'"
I know nothing about gardening, but I still trust that it's sound advice. When you can make a statement like that matter-of-factly, you're most likely an expert in your field.
The day after a high school jazz band concert, one of my teachers complimented my playing--with one caveat.
"You could have used more solos," he said.
"Thank you," I replied, "but the bass isn't usually a solo instrument. I don't mind solos when I'm allowed to play them, but I'm not asked to play them all that often."
Then again, improvisation is a hallmark of jazz. Besides, this was the ensemble that, during a rehearsal of "C Jam Blues," gave a trumpet player a chance to meander through the tune as if playing the instrument for the first time, a saxophone player space to start scatting stream-of-consciousness lyrics, such as "She was walkin' down the hall...Baby, you look so good...You looked so fine...walkin' down the hall," and the director time to stop conducting in order to ponder the score.
Maybe it wouldn't have been out of line for me to ask for a few more bass solos.
How do you calm down a perpetually hungry cat who insists on biting your feet, even when you've given her cat food multiple times in a day? I tried singing some alternate lyrics I'd made up for the first verse of "California" by The Lagoons: "Tried to reason with a cat who bites my feet...She just wants to eat. She'll just have to wait for her food."
Somehow, I thought the mellowness of the song or the reality of those lyrics would sink in with my cat, Collette. Alas, they didn't. Back to the drawing board...
Six standout tunes heard today:
KDHX 88.1 FM
WSIE 88.7 FM
KCLC 89.1 FM
It amuses me that when my boom box is turned on with no CD in it, the digital display just reads, "No." If this is a smart appliance, I wonder if it'll shift my priorities subtly be replacing "No" with "Read." Or, if my cat, Collette, wants a seventh daily helping of food, maybe the display will read, "Give in."
We're in an age where devices increasingly sense and adjust to our needs. I'm ambivalent about that, at best.
A radio talk show host here used to say, "I refuse to grow up." Did he approach his show and its callers with awe and wonder? No. Especially in his last few years hosting the show, his attitude toward callers was conspicuously curmudgeonly. Some listeners might have thought this made for an unpleasant show. In his defense, however...
Although it required some additional work, I looked forward to the few days of the year when radio stations where I worked were required to log all of the music they played for ASCAP. I always hoped those designated days would be when I worked and could choose the music; that way, artists I favored would get their royalties from being played on the radio. The more obscure they were, the better, in my book; after all, they needed the money all the more.
In eighth grade, our orchestra director, Mr. D., urged our class to be kind to a new student. He told us, "She came from the world's worst beginning class."
Referencing my sixth grade beginning class of mostly disinterested players who didn't practice, I told Mr. D., "I thought my class was the worst beginning class." He laughed before gesturing to my double bass and me and responding, "But look what emerged."
I still appreciate every kind word anyone has given me about my musical accomplishments. The unique phrasing of that particular compliment, however, still looms large in my mind.
As a music fan, I sometimes feel the strange compulsion to say what I know about music--to no one. Earlier this month, I was taking a nap when "Kathy's Waltz" by Dave Brubeck started playing on KWMU. Even though I was half-asleep, I said out loud, "That's the warm, familiar saxophone playing of Paul Desmond."
Actually, I might not have said that to no one. My cat, Collette, might have been within earshot. If so, I hope my positive review of Desmond's playing impressed her; maybe, one day, instead of just sitting on the LPs, she'll be moved to play Brubeck's "Time Out" album.
An AM radio commercial reminded me today of the stakes many business owners face during this pandemic. A restaurant owner thanked his customers for staying loyal through what he called the most difficult four months of the restaurant's existence.
"Without you, our doors are closed, and my house is on the market," he said.
Sadly, during these dark days of Covid-19, that outcome is all too common for too many business owners.
Seven noteworthy selections heard this morning:
KMUN (Astoria, OR)
KUVO (Denver, CO)
WERS (Boston, MA)
WEZS (Knoxville, TN)
WHDD (Sharon, CT)
WSPS (Concord, NH)
Heard on a news-talk station before a commercial break: "When we return, we'll finally step away from the coronavirus. You know the news. You know the headlines."
Sadly, that's what counts--and will continue to count--as a respite from the news in 2020.
I've written about a lot of persistent earworms on this blog. Most of them, I like, at least somewhat. That's not the case today, however. I don't know if the general negative vibe of 2020 sparked it, but in recent hours, Cypress Hill's "Insane In The Brain" won't leave my mind. When there's a vast amount of great Classical, jazz, R&B, pop, folk, and other genres of music to explore, I never understood why people would gravitate toward a song about a band singing that it's going insane, and that's basically it.
It was a hit in 1993, though, so a lot of listeners must have liked it. I'm still not sure why.
Another bassist and I were used to getting an A each semester in our double bass instruction class. One semester, to my surprise, I got a B. After I mentioned this to the other bassist, she replied, "I got a B, too! I think we need new blood." After realizing that her momentary wish for a new bass teacher was a bit extreme, she continued, "I sound like I'm out for the kill, don't I?"
Most likely, we both should have practiced the bass a bit more that semester.
It amuses me now to see how often I wrote, "St. Louis radio," on cassette tape labels when recording radio air checks during the '80s. As if I'd ever forget the city in which I grew up and still live...
Recently, I unearthed a music survey I sent to high school friends in 1987. In addition to asking them to grade various current songs, I asked them to complete this sentence: A song that I think deserves to be bronzed and hung over every family's fireplace mantle because of its greatness is...
Some thoughts on that sentence now:
When you go off to college, know that not everyone you meet will share your musical taste. After playing "I Am The Walrus" one day during my freshman year, my roommate said, "That's The Beatles?" When I confirmed that they were, he responded, "I'd tape over that @%&*."
Serendipitous exchanges also happen in college, however. There was also this incident that same year:
Dorm neighbor: Andrew, haven't seen you lately. How've you been?
Me: I've been listening to Beatles music.
Dorm neighbor: Really? Are you the walrus?
Me: No. The walrus is Paul.
Just as I said that, another dorm neighbor named Paul walked past, by chance. To his credit, Paul didn't challenge my--well, actually, John Lennon's--statement.