I was watching “Rock of Love” last night. Awesome show. It’s like “Flavor of Love,” except instead of Flavor Flav, Bret Michaels (of Poison and Pamela Anderson fame) is the bachelor searching for true love in a round by round elimination of a bunch of strippers, groupies, sluts, psychos, and exotic dancers. Last night a mannish whore tattooed “Bret” on her neck, to convince him how “for real” she was about him. Bret was touched, felt a real connection with her.
I like Bret. He comes across as earnest, especially when he discusses why a particular would-be lover of his failed to get eliminated because of her gigantic rack or extra tight ass. As far as misogynistic rock stars go, and let me stress my lack of irony here, he’s a class act.
Then again, I think I’ve always liked Bret. Long before I discovered home videos of him nailing Pamela Anderson, I was a Poison fan. It’s not something I’m especially proud of, but it’s the truth. I even had a Poison poster hanging in my room when I was a kid. I guess even back then, I was SO comfortable with my masculinity, that I was cool with having four longhaired, makeup-wearing men on my wall. Or maybe not. I also had a poster of a man looking through binoculars… the left objective showed an attractive blonde woman in a bikini seductively lying on a red Ferrari and the right objective showed the same blond, lying on the same Ferrari, but in a different pose. So, I had not one, not two, but four images guaranteed to compensate for my pre-pubescent penis.
As hot as that Ferrari-bikini girl poster was, it was nothing compared to my Poison and Guns and Roses posters. Plural? Yes. I was into hair metal, not for the chicks, not for the drugs and booze, I didn’t know anything about that, no, I was in it for the music. The awful, ungodly music.
How did this happen? Well, it’s a prime example of the power of top 40 radio. You see, my mother didn’t listen to music. I remember one Beatles tape that she occasionally played in the old Peugeot, but after that broke down for the ninth time, Mom got a Chevy without so much as a tape player, and the radio was forever tuned to NPR. I remember grooving to the “All Things Considered” intro throughout my youth. Devoid of parental influence, I at least had an older brother that would guide me away from hair metal… until he moved in with my dad. Then it was just me and Z89.
“From the top top top of Mount Olympus…” Z89 was my connection with popular music. And popular music regrettably included Poison in the late 80’s and early 90’s. Also two Paula Abdul albums. (I don’t care what the critics said, “Spellbound” was every bit as good as “Forever Your Girl.”) Without any one to guide my musical interests, I was subjected to whatever Z89 was playing and assumed it must be good. After all, all my friends in school were listening to the same crap I was.
Therein lies the rube. As true as it was in the late 80’s and early 90’s, top 40 stations continue to poison the ears of today’s youth. This is serious stuff people. I’m sorry, I know Timbaland is catchy, but every third song on the radio should not feature him. And my god, why is Fergie played? Ever? Seriously, you don’t think in ten years, when people look back, they won’t chide each other about just how stupid they were to listen to “Fergalicious” or “London Bridges.” (At her absolute best, she’s a lowest common denominator M.I.A.) And don’t get me started on Rihanna’s “Umbrella.”
There’s hope though. For all those parents who don’t listen to top 40 and leave it on NPR constantly, there’s KCRW’s “Morning Becomes Eclectic.” At least in LA. I’m sure you fools in Boston and New York and Chicago have access to some decent daily music show on one of your public radio stations. Please do your kids a favor, don’t allow them to listen to pop garbage. Change the channel. Do you really want your little girls and boys with posters of Fergie and Timbaland on the wall? ‘Cause if you do, I’ll tell you where they just might end up… on some goddamn reality show, tattooing “Akon” on their neck as they try and convince him they’re not just into his money, they’re real for their man. And they’ll mean it.
Showing posts with label Pop music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pop music. Show all posts
Friday, September 7, 2007
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Graceland
I almost died this morning. That sounds dramatic, but it’s the truth. A block away from the office, a large white truck, one of those Suburbans or Expeditions, some massive truck that gets like eight miles to the gallon, drifted over from the oncoming traffic, bearing down on my Focus hatchback. Fortunately, I have the reflexes of a moderately athletic twenty-five-year-old man and I swerved across three lanes to avoid the truck and my almost-certain death. I assume the driver was asleep or texting or picking a grape up off the floor, because after laying on my horn, they recovered and swerved back into their own lane.
I was pretty shaken up. It’s not every day you confront your own mortality. I arrived at work a minute or so later and sat in the parking lot shaking. Paul Simon’s “Graceland” had been playing at the time of the almost-accident. At first I thought, it was an odd bit of music for the occasion; “Graceland” being one of the most beautiful, joyous albums ever created – me ruminating on what my life would be like if I somehow survived a head-on collision with truck going 45 as the Paul Simon’s sweet voice echoed in my brain. And then it hit me: if I had died, the last thing I would’ve heard, “You Can Call Me Al,” is a pretty cool song to go out on. And then it hit me again: If I was able to have that kind of thought, so shortly after a near-death experience, “Graceland” truly must be my all-time favorite album… something which I’d been debating over the past month or so.
I feel comfortable saying it’s my favorite album and not qualifying the statement. I assume anyone who’s ever listened to the album would surely understand. If for some crazy reason, you’ve never listened to “Graceland,” feel ashamed, getting caught by your mother masturbating to a JC Penny catalogue ashamed.
Simon somehow seamlessly infuses African music and musicians, with Zydeco and Tex-Mex music and musicians, then encompasses the whole sound into this beautiful little package, akin to a pop song. Is it pop music? World music? Does it matter?! It’s just perfect music, from start to finish, every song, beautiful, wonderful, complex, simple and subtle bass lines that expertly fill gaps, horns, accordions, Ladysmith Black Mumbazo, Los Lobos, The Everly Brothers, Linda Ronstadt, harmonies and rhythms as unique as they are beautiful, fucking Ladysmith Black Mumbazo for crying out loud!
It’s autobiographical, inspired, inspiring, and my god, the lyrics, the lyrics!!! And I’m not even a lyrics guy but:
There's a girl in New York City,
Who calls herself the human trampoline,
And sometimes when I'm falling flying
Or tumbling in turmoil I say
Whoa so this is what she means,
She means we're bouncing into Graceland.
And I see losing love
Is like a window in your heart,
Everybody sees you're blown apart,
Everybody feels the wind blow.
It just doesn’t get any better than that. And these feelings aren’t new, they weren’t suddenly brought on by the trauma of almost becoming a statistic this morning. “Graceland” has endured for years… dating back to my senior camper summer at Camp Seneca Lake, singing “You Can Call Me Al,” cooking with Alex and Julian this was in the background, the first record Christine played when we finished unpacking in our new apartment… it’s a part of me, seems like it always has, and always will be.
Something about that is comforting. In the face of death, I felt calm, at peace; it was the music. Immediately after I swerved away from the truck, I turned off my CD player. There was no way I was going to let something as silly as almost dying, tarnish in any way, shape, or form, an album I love so very much.
I was pretty shaken up. It’s not every day you confront your own mortality. I arrived at work a minute or so later and sat in the parking lot shaking. Paul Simon’s “Graceland” had been playing at the time of the almost-accident. At first I thought, it was an odd bit of music for the occasion; “Graceland” being one of the most beautiful, joyous albums ever created – me ruminating on what my life would be like if I somehow survived a head-on collision with truck going 45 as the Paul Simon’s sweet voice echoed in my brain. And then it hit me: if I had died, the last thing I would’ve heard, “You Can Call Me Al,” is a pretty cool song to go out on. And then it hit me again: If I was able to have that kind of thought, so shortly after a near-death experience, “Graceland” truly must be my all-time favorite album… something which I’d been debating over the past month or so.
I feel comfortable saying it’s my favorite album and not qualifying the statement. I assume anyone who’s ever listened to the album would surely understand. If for some crazy reason, you’ve never listened to “Graceland,” feel ashamed, getting caught by your mother masturbating to a JC Penny catalogue ashamed.
Simon somehow seamlessly infuses African music and musicians, with Zydeco and Tex-Mex music and musicians, then encompasses the whole sound into this beautiful little package, akin to a pop song. Is it pop music? World music? Does it matter?! It’s just perfect music, from start to finish, every song, beautiful, wonderful, complex, simple and subtle bass lines that expertly fill gaps, horns, accordions, Ladysmith Black Mumbazo, Los Lobos, The Everly Brothers, Linda Ronstadt, harmonies and rhythms as unique as they are beautiful, fucking Ladysmith Black Mumbazo for crying out loud!
It’s autobiographical, inspired, inspiring, and my god, the lyrics, the lyrics!!! And I’m not even a lyrics guy but:
There's a girl in New York City,
Who calls herself the human trampoline,
And sometimes when I'm falling flying
Or tumbling in turmoil I say
Whoa so this is what she means,
She means we're bouncing into Graceland.
And I see losing love
Is like a window in your heart,
Everybody sees you're blown apart,
Everybody feels the wind blow.
It just doesn’t get any better than that. And these feelings aren’t new, they weren’t suddenly brought on by the trauma of almost becoming a statistic this morning. “Graceland” has endured for years… dating back to my senior camper summer at Camp Seneca Lake, singing “You Can Call Me Al,” cooking with Alex and Julian this was in the background, the first record Christine played when we finished unpacking in our new apartment… it’s a part of me, seems like it always has, and always will be.
Something about that is comforting. In the face of death, I felt calm, at peace; it was the music. Immediately after I swerved away from the truck, I turned off my CD player. There was no way I was going to let something as silly as almost dying, tarnish in any way, shape, or form, an album I love so very much.
Friday, March 9, 2007
The Breakup Mix
Breakups are the worst! Specifically, having someone break up with you is the worst. Fortunately, very few girls have ever been interested in anything besides a friendship with me, so I’ve only been broken up with once. Win-Win. Right?
I’m no stranger to heart break though. I’ve watched far too many Syracuse basketball games in my life not to know what it’s like to have your heart ripped out of your body, smashed with a rusty hammer, and then defecated on. Syracuse is that girl, sexy as hell, but treats you like shit. Every time you start to give up on her, she sucks you back in, only to inexplicably blow a 14 point lead with less than ten minutes to go in the second half. No matter how bad she treats me, how much suffering she causes me, how hard she punches me in the gut, I’ll never breakup with Syracuse.
It’s March though. And that means we’re about to embark on the greatest annual sporting event on the planet – the NCAA men’s basketball tournament. Syracuse is seemingly a lock for the tournament, but knowing my luck, they’ll either be excluded which would cause me to become enraged or they’ll exit early in some humiliating, agonizing way. Either way, I’m going to need something to comfort me.
Enter “Zidane’s Kick-Ass Breakup Mix.” When you’ve had a bad breakup and/or are a SU fan, there’s nothing like a good mix to flesh out everything you’re feeling: pain, suffering, jealousy, cynicism, bitterness, agony, longing, and more pain. Fortunately, when you’re done, you’re a stronger person (at least that’s what I tell myself after every season). Music helps you get there. Trust me. The four things that got me through my lone breakup were reading Nick Hornby’s “High Fidelity” (it taught me I wasn’t crazy), watching “Swingers,” talking about what I was going through, and music. One of the best things to do is blast some Rage Against the Machine and dance away the pain. And when I say dance, I mean wildly punching the air as you thrash around the room. Seriously, try dancing to three songs in a row, you’ll get a lot of anger out and by the time you’re done, you’ll be tired to be depressed. It’s healthy. In addition to Rage, everyone needs some music to flesh out those open wounds and eventually heal them. I recommend the following mix (in no real particular order):
(Note: Before I get started, I should probably mention that I know nothing about how women deal with breakups. This is based on my suffering as a man and a basketball fanatic. Nearly every song on this list is written by a man. I know there are plenty of great female breakup songs, but somehow Janis Joplin’s “Take Another Piece Of My Heart” or any of the other great female breakup songs, didn’t really seem to speak to what I was going through. I don’t know if these songs will speak to the females who read this. All I know is that they were compelling to me.)
1. (“Wasted Days” – The Slackers) I keep bringing up the Slackers in as many posts as possible. Maybe somebody, other than my buddy Vein who turned me onto them, will realize just how kick-ass they are. This is the breakup anthem. “What have I done wrong that I should be sorry? You broke my heart, you left in no hurry. What I'm sorry for, is all those wasted days and all those wasted ways that I loved you.”
2. (“It Makes No Difference” – The Band) This song captures that post breakup feeling about as well as any I’ve ever heard. You know what I’m talking about. After that realization that it’s really over, but long before you’ve started coming to terms with things. By the way, if you don’t own The Band’s “The Last Waltz” go out and buy it. It’s one of the best live albums ever released. Period.
3. (“Ain’t No Sunshine” – Bill Whithers) It’s beautiful and haunting but I can’t help but feel the song ends a bit prematurely. But hey, so do relationships. And 1987 National Championship games. “We didn’t lose; we jus ran out of time.”
4. (“For No One” – The Beatles) They have a song for every feeling and occasion, so obviously the greatest band in the history of rock was going to be on this list. Excluding songs like, “I Want You,” “I’m Looking Through You,” and “Girl” was not easy, but “For No One” is quite simply a perfect song. If you don’t make a point to listen to a Beatles’ album at least once a month, you should start. I’m currently in the middle of another period of falling in love with them for like the fifth time.
5. (“My Girl” – Nirvana – Unplugged) I think this is my favorite song from one of my favorite classic adolescent albums. Have you listened to “Unplugged” lately? It’s incredible. You can taste the bitterness in Curt Cobain’s voice when he gets to that final chorus. “In the pines. The PINES. SUN. SHINE. I shiver… the whole… night THROUGH!” Still gives me chills every time I listen to it.
6. (“You Are My Sunshine” – Norman Blake) As a child I remember singing this in pre-school. How in the fuck was this ever made into a kid’s song? It’s unequivocally one of the most morose songs I’ve ever heard. Don’t believe me? Check out the LYRICS By the time you’re through with this song (along with the previous 5), you’ll be thoroughly depressed. Sometimes after a breakup, that’s exactly how you want to feel. But if you want a pick up, there’s…
7. (“Song For Dumped” – Ben Folds Five) This will get the energy going. Nothing like bitterness to divert from the feeling of anguish. And this is the quintessential bitter boyfriend who just got fucked over rant. My Freshman roommate, Brian, told me he drove around with one his recently dumped high school buddies blasting this over and over again all night. I can see how that would therapeutic.
8. (“I used To Love Her” – Guns and Roses) And if bitterness isn’t working, maybe try a little cynicism. “I used to love her, but I had to kill her. I had to put her, six feet under. And I can still hear her complain…” Misogynistic? Probably. But if you’ve just had your heart ripped out, who really cares?
9. (“Can’t Stand Losing You” – The Police) I had a tough time picking my Police song. “Hole In My Life,” “So Lonely,” “My Bed’s Too Big Without You,” and “Message In Bottle” get honorable mentions for the list. My man-crush on Sting was born during my breakup. The emotion he sang with echoed all the things I was feeling. “I Can’t Stand Losing You” is darkly humorous. “I guess you’d call it suicide, but I’m too full to swallow my pride…” Things were bad, but never this bad. Listening to it, always helped me laugh at myself and keep things in perspective.
10. (“Tell Me Why” – Los Lonely Boys) I know they’re a bit smooth, but I’ve seen Los Lonely Boys in person and they’re shockingly good live. I don’t know if this one can hold a candle to “Ain’t No Sunshine” or some of the previous songs, but I don’t care. I like it. It taps into that time when the breakup is imminent, but you’re still in denial.
11. (“Pictures of Me” – Elliot Smith) Either/Or was and remains not only one of the greatest breakup albums of all time, but one of my all-time top five desert island favorite albums. Picking a single song off it was next to impossible for me. The album is sad, haunting, beautiful, and the best reminder I have of being broken up with. Go buy this album. If you get broken up with, it will be one of your closest companions. And in times of happiness, you’ll appreciate how chillingly magnificent it is.
12. (“My Girl” (acoustic, live) – Weezer) You have to get the live-acoustic version of this. I know some people who think it’s sexist. “I want a girl who will laugh for no one else. When I’m away, she puts her make up on the shelf. When I’m away, she never leaves the house…” Listen to this version and I guarantee that you’ll understand. It’s about a guy whose girlfriend is a cheater and it’s killing him. On this you can hear the suffering in his voice. It taps into that awful, awful jealousy you feel in a way that no other song I’ve ever heard does.
13. (“A Man Needs A Maid” – Neil Young) This is another song that people often confuse as being misogynistic. “I was thinking that maybe I’d get a maid. Find a place nearby for her to stay. Just someone to keep my house clean. Fix my meals and go away.” I know that sounds horrible, but you’ve got to understand the back-story. Young wrote it about his wife, Carrie Snodgress, who cared for him after a back injury. It’s unclear whether or not it’s supposed to be a tribute to her (Young called her his “Maid Marion”). It doesn’t really matter though. I’ve always envisioned the Ethan Frome-like scene of Young bedridden, being taking care of by this woman who hates him, trapped in a loveless marriage.
14. (“How Can You Mend A Broken Heart” – Al Green) Obviously Al Green was going to be on this list. He’s another person, who, if you don’t own one of his CD’s, you need to go out and buy one right away. Whether he’s singing about love or pain, Al’s voice and passion seems to be a mainline to your soul.
15. (“Deceptacon” – Le Tigre) Okay, this defiantly isn’t one of the 20 best breakup songs of all time. I don’t know if it’s a break up song, but I’ve been dying to write about it since I started the blog. The Vein made me a mix and this was the first song on it. It’s awesome! Le Tigre is this female punk band that rocks. Every time it comes on Christine dances like a madwoman. People in the cars around us stare, but she doesn’t care. She can’t help it out, she’s got to wow out and I can’t blame her. It makes the list because there’s a strong touch of bitterness in the lyrics and so much energy, you’ll dance that depression away.
16. (“One Cup of Coffee” – Bob Marley) This is old-school Bob Marley. One of my favorite Bob songs. “One cup of coffee, then I’ll go; though I just dropped by to let you know, that I’m leaving you tomorrow. I’ll cause you no more sorrow. One cup of coffee, then I’ll go.” Part of breaking up is expressing some regret. Even if you’re the victim, you should still be able to look back on the relationship and know you should’ve done some things different. Believing that Nichols, Roberts, and Watkins might lead SU back to the Final Four is regrettable.
17. (“Mysterons” – Portishead) Thinking about that regret, makes me depressed. If you feel like being depressed, there’s always Portishead. The saddest music I know. It’s dark and beautiful and the perfect thing to blast when you feel like being despondent.
18. (“Cry Me A River” – Justin Timberlake) I know it’s Justin Timberlake, but a wise man named Moody taught me all about his brilliance while we were in London together. And this song is one of the ultimate “fuck-you, I’m over you now” songs in the history of music. And good for Justin. Look at Britney these days. She’s a fucking mess. JT is the king of pop. He broke up with Cameron Diaz. He’s the fucking man.
19. (“Stepping Stones” – G Love and Special Sauce) And here’s a bit more of that. Upbeat music, realizing you’re better off without her. But eventually you have to come to terms with the breakup. And when you do, there’s the greatest songwriter of them all…
20. (“Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right” – Bob Dylan) This song is about turning the corner. If you’re ever really stuck in a rut and feel like you’re never going to get out, listen to this song. “I’m walkin’ down that long , lonesome road, babe. Where I’m bound, I can’t tell. But goodbye’s too good a word, gal. So I’ll just say fare thee well. I ain’t sayin’ you treated me unkind. You could have done better but I don’t mind. You just kinda wasted my precious time. But don’t think twice, it’s all right.” No matter how deep a funk you’re in, you’ll claw your way out, just a matter of time. And when you do, brace yourself to it all over again. After all, a new season is just around the bend.
So there you have it, “Zidane’s Kick-Ass Breakup Mix.” Any glaring omissions? Post a comment, let me know. I’ve got one… it was just a little too long to fit on the mix, but The Allman Brothers’ “Whipping Post” from their Fillmore Shows album has to be one of the greatest versions of one of the greatest songs in the history of rock. When I listen to the LYRICS, I can’t help but wonder if Gregg Allman was a Syracuse fan too.
I’m no stranger to heart break though. I’ve watched far too many Syracuse basketball games in my life not to know what it’s like to have your heart ripped out of your body, smashed with a rusty hammer, and then defecated on. Syracuse is that girl, sexy as hell, but treats you like shit. Every time you start to give up on her, she sucks you back in, only to inexplicably blow a 14 point lead with less than ten minutes to go in the second half. No matter how bad she treats me, how much suffering she causes me, how hard she punches me in the gut, I’ll never breakup with Syracuse.
It’s March though. And that means we’re about to embark on the greatest annual sporting event on the planet – the NCAA men’s basketball tournament. Syracuse is seemingly a lock for the tournament, but knowing my luck, they’ll either be excluded which would cause me to become enraged or they’ll exit early in some humiliating, agonizing way. Either way, I’m going to need something to comfort me.
Enter “Zidane’s Kick-Ass Breakup Mix.” When you’ve had a bad breakup and/or are a SU fan, there’s nothing like a good mix to flesh out everything you’re feeling: pain, suffering, jealousy, cynicism, bitterness, agony, longing, and more pain. Fortunately, when you’re done, you’re a stronger person (at least that’s what I tell myself after every season). Music helps you get there. Trust me. The four things that got me through my lone breakup were reading Nick Hornby’s “High Fidelity” (it taught me I wasn’t crazy), watching “Swingers,” talking about what I was going through, and music. One of the best things to do is blast some Rage Against the Machine and dance away the pain. And when I say dance, I mean wildly punching the air as you thrash around the room. Seriously, try dancing to three songs in a row, you’ll get a lot of anger out and by the time you’re done, you’ll be tired to be depressed. It’s healthy. In addition to Rage, everyone needs some music to flesh out those open wounds and eventually heal them. I recommend the following mix (in no real particular order):
(Note: Before I get started, I should probably mention that I know nothing about how women deal with breakups. This is based on my suffering as a man and a basketball fanatic. Nearly every song on this list is written by a man. I know there are plenty of great female breakup songs, but somehow Janis Joplin’s “Take Another Piece Of My Heart” or any of the other great female breakup songs, didn’t really seem to speak to what I was going through. I don’t know if these songs will speak to the females who read this. All I know is that they were compelling to me.)
1. (“Wasted Days” – The Slackers) I keep bringing up the Slackers in as many posts as possible. Maybe somebody, other than my buddy Vein who turned me onto them, will realize just how kick-ass they are. This is the breakup anthem. “What have I done wrong that I should be sorry? You broke my heart, you left in no hurry. What I'm sorry for, is all those wasted days and all those wasted ways that I loved you.”
2. (“It Makes No Difference” – The Band) This song captures that post breakup feeling about as well as any I’ve ever heard. You know what I’m talking about. After that realization that it’s really over, but long before you’ve started coming to terms with things. By the way, if you don’t own The Band’s “The Last Waltz” go out and buy it. It’s one of the best live albums ever released. Period.
3. (“Ain’t No Sunshine” – Bill Whithers) It’s beautiful and haunting but I can’t help but feel the song ends a bit prematurely. But hey, so do relationships. And 1987 National Championship games. “We didn’t lose; we jus ran out of time.”
4. (“For No One” – The Beatles) They have a song for every feeling and occasion, so obviously the greatest band in the history of rock was going to be on this list. Excluding songs like, “I Want You,” “I’m Looking Through You,” and “Girl” was not easy, but “For No One” is quite simply a perfect song. If you don’t make a point to listen to a Beatles’ album at least once a month, you should start. I’m currently in the middle of another period of falling in love with them for like the fifth time.
5. (“My Girl” – Nirvana – Unplugged) I think this is my favorite song from one of my favorite classic adolescent albums. Have you listened to “Unplugged” lately? It’s incredible. You can taste the bitterness in Curt Cobain’s voice when he gets to that final chorus. “In the pines. The PINES. SUN. SHINE. I shiver… the whole… night THROUGH!” Still gives me chills every time I listen to it.
6. (“You Are My Sunshine” – Norman Blake) As a child I remember singing this in pre-school. How in the fuck was this ever made into a kid’s song? It’s unequivocally one of the most morose songs I’ve ever heard. Don’t believe me? Check out the LYRICS By the time you’re through with this song (along with the previous 5), you’ll be thoroughly depressed. Sometimes after a breakup, that’s exactly how you want to feel. But if you want a pick up, there’s…
7. (“Song For Dumped” – Ben Folds Five) This will get the energy going. Nothing like bitterness to divert from the feeling of anguish. And this is the quintessential bitter boyfriend who just got fucked over rant. My Freshman roommate, Brian, told me he drove around with one his recently dumped high school buddies blasting this over and over again all night. I can see how that would therapeutic.
8. (“I used To Love Her” – Guns and Roses) And if bitterness isn’t working, maybe try a little cynicism. “I used to love her, but I had to kill her. I had to put her, six feet under. And I can still hear her complain…” Misogynistic? Probably. But if you’ve just had your heart ripped out, who really cares?
9. (“Can’t Stand Losing You” – The Police) I had a tough time picking my Police song. “Hole In My Life,” “So Lonely,” “My Bed’s Too Big Without You,” and “Message In Bottle” get honorable mentions for the list. My man-crush on Sting was born during my breakup. The emotion he sang with echoed all the things I was feeling. “I Can’t Stand Losing You” is darkly humorous. “I guess you’d call it suicide, but I’m too full to swallow my pride…” Things were bad, but never this bad. Listening to it, always helped me laugh at myself and keep things in perspective.
10. (“Tell Me Why” – Los Lonely Boys) I know they’re a bit smooth, but I’ve seen Los Lonely Boys in person and they’re shockingly good live. I don’t know if this one can hold a candle to “Ain’t No Sunshine” or some of the previous songs, but I don’t care. I like it. It taps into that time when the breakup is imminent, but you’re still in denial.
11. (“Pictures of Me” – Elliot Smith) Either/Or was and remains not only one of the greatest breakup albums of all time, but one of my all-time top five desert island favorite albums. Picking a single song off it was next to impossible for me. The album is sad, haunting, beautiful, and the best reminder I have of being broken up with. Go buy this album. If you get broken up with, it will be one of your closest companions. And in times of happiness, you’ll appreciate how chillingly magnificent it is.
12. (“My Girl” (acoustic, live) – Weezer) You have to get the live-acoustic version of this. I know some people who think it’s sexist. “I want a girl who will laugh for no one else. When I’m away, she puts her make up on the shelf. When I’m away, she never leaves the house…” Listen to this version and I guarantee that you’ll understand. It’s about a guy whose girlfriend is a cheater and it’s killing him. On this you can hear the suffering in his voice. It taps into that awful, awful jealousy you feel in a way that no other song I’ve ever heard does.
13. (“A Man Needs A Maid” – Neil Young) This is another song that people often confuse as being misogynistic. “I was thinking that maybe I’d get a maid. Find a place nearby for her to stay. Just someone to keep my house clean. Fix my meals and go away.” I know that sounds horrible, but you’ve got to understand the back-story. Young wrote it about his wife, Carrie Snodgress, who cared for him after a back injury. It’s unclear whether or not it’s supposed to be a tribute to her (Young called her his “Maid Marion”). It doesn’t really matter though. I’ve always envisioned the Ethan Frome-like scene of Young bedridden, being taking care of by this woman who hates him, trapped in a loveless marriage.
14. (“How Can You Mend A Broken Heart” – Al Green) Obviously Al Green was going to be on this list. He’s another person, who, if you don’t own one of his CD’s, you need to go out and buy one right away. Whether he’s singing about love or pain, Al’s voice and passion seems to be a mainline to your soul.
15. (“Deceptacon” – Le Tigre) Okay, this defiantly isn’t one of the 20 best breakup songs of all time. I don’t know if it’s a break up song, but I’ve been dying to write about it since I started the blog. The Vein made me a mix and this was the first song on it. It’s awesome! Le Tigre is this female punk band that rocks. Every time it comes on Christine dances like a madwoman. People in the cars around us stare, but she doesn’t care. She can’t help it out, she’s got to wow out and I can’t blame her. It makes the list because there’s a strong touch of bitterness in the lyrics and so much energy, you’ll dance that depression away.
16. (“One Cup of Coffee” – Bob Marley) This is old-school Bob Marley. One of my favorite Bob songs. “One cup of coffee, then I’ll go; though I just dropped by to let you know, that I’m leaving you tomorrow. I’ll cause you no more sorrow. One cup of coffee, then I’ll go.” Part of breaking up is expressing some regret. Even if you’re the victim, you should still be able to look back on the relationship and know you should’ve done some things different. Believing that Nichols, Roberts, and Watkins might lead SU back to the Final Four is regrettable.
17. (“Mysterons” – Portishead) Thinking about that regret, makes me depressed. If you feel like being depressed, there’s always Portishead. The saddest music I know. It’s dark and beautiful and the perfect thing to blast when you feel like being despondent.
18. (“Cry Me A River” – Justin Timberlake) I know it’s Justin Timberlake, but a wise man named Moody taught me all about his brilliance while we were in London together. And this song is one of the ultimate “fuck-you, I’m over you now” songs in the history of music. And good for Justin. Look at Britney these days. She’s a fucking mess. JT is the king of pop. He broke up with Cameron Diaz. He’s the fucking man.
19. (“Stepping Stones” – G Love and Special Sauce) And here’s a bit more of that. Upbeat music, realizing you’re better off without her. But eventually you have to come to terms with the breakup. And when you do, there’s the greatest songwriter of them all…
20. (“Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right” – Bob Dylan) This song is about turning the corner. If you’re ever really stuck in a rut and feel like you’re never going to get out, listen to this song. “I’m walkin’ down that long , lonesome road, babe. Where I’m bound, I can’t tell. But goodbye’s too good a word, gal. So I’ll just say fare thee well. I ain’t sayin’ you treated me unkind. You could have done better but I don’t mind. You just kinda wasted my precious time. But don’t think twice, it’s all right.” No matter how deep a funk you’re in, you’ll claw your way out, just a matter of time. And when you do, brace yourself to it all over again. After all, a new season is just around the bend.
So there you have it, “Zidane’s Kick-Ass Breakup Mix.” Any glaring omissions? Post a comment, let me know. I’ve got one… it was just a little too long to fit on the mix, but The Allman Brothers’ “Whipping Post” from their Fillmore Shows album has to be one of the greatest versions of one of the greatest songs in the history of rock. When I listen to the LYRICS, I can’t help but wonder if Gregg Allman was a Syracuse fan too.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Why am I such a bad dancer?
For those of you who have seen me dance… I’m sorry – it’s not a pretty sight. There’s a lot of misguided hip shaking, arm swinging, and head bobbing as I desperately search for the beat. Usually, I resign myself to a modified “running man.” My head goes up and down or shoulder-to-shoulder, while my arms take turns upper cutting my chin. What my legs do is better left unsaid. Why am I such a bad dancer?
The short answer is that I’m a skinny, white, Jewish boy, without much rhythm. On closer examination, that doesn’t begin to explain my ineptitude. The belief that all Jews, or white people for that matter, are bad dancers is not only a broad generalization (racist) but inaccurate. When I watch “My Super Sweet Sixteen” (MTV guilty pleasure watching at it’s finest) the white kids are cutting a serious rug. (Do the kids say, “cutting a rug” anymore?)
So what makes them so different than me? Well, I’ll get to them a bit later, but first I want to explain why a fairly decent athlete like myself, has to rely on the delicate balance of “just enough booze” when I dance -- too little and I move like the Tin Man, too much and I’m somewhere between doing the cabbage patch and having a seizure, just right and I may walk off the dance floor with some of my dignity still intact.
The answer lies in the music I was socialized with. My mom was not hip. Anyone who has met her will say that she’s very sweet and kind, but no one is confusing her with “the cool mom.” (That was Linda Gerber, aka “the skunk,” aka a regular visitor to the… ahem… imagination of my 15 year old self.) Anyway, the coolest thing my mom ever had me listen to was the Beatles, beyond that, I don’t know if she even listened to contemporary music. I was pretty much on my own when it came to discovering music as a kid, forced to rely on MTV and the tapes my brother was no longer interested in. At the age of 12, my music collection consisted of the following artists: Poison, Guns and Roses, Genesis, Pink Floyd, The Dead Milkmen, Paula Abdul, Neil Young, Vanilla Ice, Fiddler On The Roof Soundtrack, REM, Pearl Jam, They Might Be Giants, Billy Joel, Weird Al, and an additional Paula Abdul album (I had both “Spellbound” and “Forever Your Girl”). What does this eclectic group of musicians have in common? They’re all white.
When Paula Abdul and Vanilla Ice are the closet things a kid has to music created by people of color, it’s damn near impossible to understand what “soul” is. And I’m not just talking about soul music (which much to my delight, I discovered in college); I’m talking about music that has soul in it. The bulk of my black classmates in elementary school grew up listening to the music their parents listened to and you better believe that music had some soul in it. Meanwhile, I listened to what most middle class white kids were listening to… the stuff on the radio and on MTV. Outside of Michael Jackson, MC Hammer, Living Color, TLC, and Salt and Peppa, I don’t remember too many black faces or voices on my TV or radio. And I didn’t have the slightest idea what soul meant.
Now what exactly is soul? Well, it’s hard to pinpoint just what it is. It’s easy to point to various groups or musicians (Al Green, Curtis Mayfield, James Brown, Aretha Franklin and so on) and say they have soul. It’s not so hard to trace the influence of soul artists to funk (Bootsy Collins, Maceo Parker, George Clinton, etc.) and onto hip-hop (The Roots, Jill Scoot, Erykah Badu, etc.) But what is it that all these people have in common (aside from being black)? What about their music makes it soulful? If I had to pinpoint it, it’s a combination of R&B and gospel inspired elements, most notably powerful singing and rhythms you can tap your feet to… and dance to.
In college, I used to go to a bar called Darwin’s every Thursday night and dance my ass off. It was a predominantly white crowd listening to predominantly hip-hop music. After a few cocktails, I’d usually work up the courage to approach a cute black girl and I’d say, “I’m skinny white, Jewish boy, without much rhythm… but I want to learn!” The line never failed and in seconds I was grinding was some cutie that could dance circles around most of the girls in the bar. Inevitably, I always heard the same thing week in and week out: “Listen for the beat. Find the beat.”
But I couldn’t. And it’s not because I was white and she was black, it’s because I was raised listening to Poison (no one is ever going to confuse anything Poison has written for having even an inkling of soul in it) and she was raised listening to stuff you can dance to. Now white kids were in the clear for a while. White music was pop music, and so others had to conform to the white style of dancing. In the 70’s it was disco, in the 80’s it was some sort of manic, arms flailing, seizure-like thrashing (http://youtube.com/watch?v=5Iwmqq1o0Ts - watch how the people dance in the background in this clip from 16 Candles), and in the 90’s it was head banging and mosh pits.
Today, hip-hop culture is pop-culture. White kids and black kids alike are socialized on black music. And while “soul” may be absent from Lil’ John and some of his hip-hop counterparts, check out the most recent Kanye West album and listen to “Gold Digger” or “Gone” and then try telling me there’s not a direct correlation from soul music to rap. Kids of all races are growing up listening to music that has a beat, which leads me back to “My Super Sweet Sixteen.” The white kids in that, bumping and grinding away with careless ease, have no trouble finding the beat. If you grow up listening to music with soul, the beat is just a part of you.
The short answer is that I’m a skinny, white, Jewish boy, without much rhythm. On closer examination, that doesn’t begin to explain my ineptitude. The belief that all Jews, or white people for that matter, are bad dancers is not only a broad generalization (racist) but inaccurate. When I watch “My Super Sweet Sixteen” (MTV guilty pleasure watching at it’s finest) the white kids are cutting a serious rug. (Do the kids say, “cutting a rug” anymore?)
So what makes them so different than me? Well, I’ll get to them a bit later, but first I want to explain why a fairly decent athlete like myself, has to rely on the delicate balance of “just enough booze” when I dance -- too little and I move like the Tin Man, too much and I’m somewhere between doing the cabbage patch and having a seizure, just right and I may walk off the dance floor with some of my dignity still intact.
The answer lies in the music I was socialized with. My mom was not hip. Anyone who has met her will say that she’s very sweet and kind, but no one is confusing her with “the cool mom.” (That was Linda Gerber, aka “the skunk,” aka a regular visitor to the… ahem… imagination of my 15 year old self.) Anyway, the coolest thing my mom ever had me listen to was the Beatles, beyond that, I don’t know if she even listened to contemporary music. I was pretty much on my own when it came to discovering music as a kid, forced to rely on MTV and the tapes my brother was no longer interested in. At the age of 12, my music collection consisted of the following artists: Poison, Guns and Roses, Genesis, Pink Floyd, The Dead Milkmen, Paula Abdul, Neil Young, Vanilla Ice, Fiddler On The Roof Soundtrack, REM, Pearl Jam, They Might Be Giants, Billy Joel, Weird Al, and an additional Paula Abdul album (I had both “Spellbound” and “Forever Your Girl”). What does this eclectic group of musicians have in common? They’re all white.
When Paula Abdul and Vanilla Ice are the closet things a kid has to music created by people of color, it’s damn near impossible to understand what “soul” is. And I’m not just talking about soul music (which much to my delight, I discovered in college); I’m talking about music that has soul in it. The bulk of my black classmates in elementary school grew up listening to the music their parents listened to and you better believe that music had some soul in it. Meanwhile, I listened to what most middle class white kids were listening to… the stuff on the radio and on MTV. Outside of Michael Jackson, MC Hammer, Living Color, TLC, and Salt and Peppa, I don’t remember too many black faces or voices on my TV or radio. And I didn’t have the slightest idea what soul meant.
Now what exactly is soul? Well, it’s hard to pinpoint just what it is. It’s easy to point to various groups or musicians (Al Green, Curtis Mayfield, James Brown, Aretha Franklin and so on) and say they have soul. It’s not so hard to trace the influence of soul artists to funk (Bootsy Collins, Maceo Parker, George Clinton, etc.) and onto hip-hop (The Roots, Jill Scoot, Erykah Badu, etc.) But what is it that all these people have in common (aside from being black)? What about their music makes it soulful? If I had to pinpoint it, it’s a combination of R&B and gospel inspired elements, most notably powerful singing and rhythms you can tap your feet to… and dance to.
In college, I used to go to a bar called Darwin’s every Thursday night and dance my ass off. It was a predominantly white crowd listening to predominantly hip-hop music. After a few cocktails, I’d usually work up the courage to approach a cute black girl and I’d say, “I’m skinny white, Jewish boy, without much rhythm… but I want to learn!” The line never failed and in seconds I was grinding was some cutie that could dance circles around most of the girls in the bar. Inevitably, I always heard the same thing week in and week out: “Listen for the beat. Find the beat.”
But I couldn’t. And it’s not because I was white and she was black, it’s because I was raised listening to Poison (no one is ever going to confuse anything Poison has written for having even an inkling of soul in it) and she was raised listening to stuff you can dance to. Now white kids were in the clear for a while. White music was pop music, and so others had to conform to the white style of dancing. In the 70’s it was disco, in the 80’s it was some sort of manic, arms flailing, seizure-like thrashing (http://youtube.com/watch?v=5Iwmqq1o0Ts - watch how the people dance in the background in this clip from 16 Candles), and in the 90’s it was head banging and mosh pits.
Today, hip-hop culture is pop-culture. White kids and black kids alike are socialized on black music. And while “soul” may be absent from Lil’ John and some of his hip-hop counterparts, check out the most recent Kanye West album and listen to “Gold Digger” or “Gone” and then try telling me there’s not a direct correlation from soul music to rap. Kids of all races are growing up listening to music that has a beat, which leads me back to “My Super Sweet Sixteen.” The white kids in that, bumping and grinding away with careless ease, have no trouble finding the beat. If you grow up listening to music with soul, the beat is just a part of you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)