The musical baton

A few days ago, Lisa passed me the musical baton—a meme with just five questions (or four, not counting the question about the next five victims):

• Total volume of music
• Last CD I bought
• Song playing right now
• Five songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me
• Five people to whom I'm passing the baton

As a listener, I've had two musical lives: (1) before law school (1986), and (2) after I got a car with a CD player (2002). In between, I hardly bought any music, though I listened to some country radio. My musical taste changed quite a bit during that 16-year gap. Before 1986, it was rock, with a little bit of jazz (George Benson, Keith Jarrett, John Klemmer) and a little bit of R&B (Stevie Wonder). Now it's mostly blues, with a little country (George Jones) and a little more bluegrass (mainly Alison Kraus and Union Station).

That's the big picture. For the details, click where it says "Continue reading ..." below.

(The cartoon at top right of this post was–er–borrowed from It's My Life by PBS Kids. Please visit their site so I'll feel less guilty.)

Total volume of music: 70 LPs (not counting the ones I've lost over the years), and 98 CDs. This excludes Suzanne's (my wife's) records and CDs. The 70 LPs are all from my pre-law-school era, while my CDs were all purchased between 2002 and present.

In high school (1971-1975), I listened to a lot of Elton John. I had every album of his from Empty Sky through Captain Fantastic. In fact, the first album I ever bought in my life was probably Elton John's Honky Chateau. The best of that batch was undoubtedly Goodbye Yellow Brick Road—a classic.

A few other memorable records from that era: Paranoid by Black Sabbath (featuring a young Ozzy Osbourne), Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd, and Brain Salad Surgery by Emerson, Lake & Palmer.

(Speaking of Brain Salad Surgery, a laurel and hearty handshake to the first commenter who can tell us the connection between the title of that album and New Orleans.)

In college, I started listening to this guy named Bruce Springsteen. I bought Born to Run without having heard a single cut, just because I'd heard it was pretty good. "Pretty good" turned out to be an understatement—about 30 seconds into Thunder Road, I became a fan. One of the few rock concerts I ever attended in my life was given by Bruce and the E Street Band, in the arena at SIU Carbondale. No warmup act; just 3½ hours of Bruce (with a half-hour intermission). I think I decided that no concert could top that.

Around this time, rock was becoming pretentious and overdone. Fortunately, the punk movement saved us from total banality. Around that time, I saw Elvis Costello on Saturday Night Live, liked what I heard, and bought My Aim Is True.

I didn't buy much music in the early 1980s. I'm not sure why that is. One record I did buy was Michael Jackson's Thriller—back when he still looked like a human being. Since then, well, never mind.

Then I started attending law school at Loyola, as a night student with a day job. My existence Monday through Friday was work, fast-food dinner, class, sleep; weekends were study, study, with studying in my spare time. I got through it okay, but to do it, I had to stop doing some "nonessential" human things, like listening to music and generally having a life. Since graduation, I've been relearning how to be a human being. (Still learning, by the way.)

I graduated from law school in 1990, but did not get back into the music-buying habit for years. Part of it was that I didn't have much spare time (still don't, really); and part of it was that there just wasn't much popular music that I liked.

A few years ago, I stumbled onto some music that I could dig, when I started listening to blues on a free MSN radio channel. Around this time, I bought a car with a good stereo, including CD player. I think the first CD I bought in my modern era was Nothing Personal by Delbert McClinton. And this old guitar player, R.L. Burnside, caught my ear. I bought Wish I Was in Heaven Sitting Down, listened, and had to have more; the next two were Mr. Wizard and Too Bad Jim. That in turn, led me to some other artists on R.L.'s label, Fat Possum.

I don't listen to much radio, because most of it is crap. One exception is WWOZ. I like OZ because the play lists are made by music lovers, not dictated by some corporate monolith somewhere. If you live in the New Orleans area, tune in to 90.7 FM. If you live elsewhere, you can listen by clicking here. (And wherever you live, consider becoming a WWOZ member. It's a good thing.) I learn about new music from the web and from reading reviews in publications like Offbeat.

Last CD I bought: Two purchased at the same time: Dis Dat or D'Udda by Dr. John, and Grant Street by Sonny Landreth. Both have turned out to be excellent investments. If you love New Orleans music, get Dis Dat or D'Udda. I guarantee that the opening cut will surprise you, and that 30 seconds into the second (a re-arrangement of The Saints), you'll be glad you bought it. As for Grant Street, it proved to me that Sonny Landreth is the most creative and one of the most skilled guitarists alive.

Song playing right now: I think I'll vary the script here and talk about the CD that's playing right now: Sunday Nights: The Songs of Junior Kimbrough by various artists. Words can't describe how cool this record is. Here's the lineup:

• You Better Run: two interpretations by Iggy Pop & the Stooges
• Sad Days Lonely Nights: interpreted by Spiritualized. This song has an amazing pulse—like the Jimi Hendrix Experience doing the soundtrack for Contact.
• Meet Me in the City, interpreted by Blues Explosion.
• Done Got Old, interpreted by the Heartless Bastards.
• My Mind is Rambling, interpreted by the Black Keys.
• I'm Leaving, interpreted by the Fiery Furnaces.
• I Feel Good Again, interpreted by Pete Yorn.
• Do the Romp, interpreted by Cat Power and Entrance.
• All Night Long, interpreted by Mark Lanegan.
• Release Me, interpreted by Thee Shams.
• Done Got Old, by Jim White.
• Lord Have Mercy on Me, by Outrageous Cherry.
• Pull Your Clothes Off, by Whitey Kirst.
• I'm in Love With You, by Jack Oblivion.
• Burn in Hell, by the Ponys.

Why is this record so cool? Because it introduces Junior Kimbrough fans to these artists, while at the same time introducing the fans of these artists to Junior Kimbrough. (Incidentally, Sunday Nights isn't the first tribute to Junior Kimbrough. Buddy Guy's Sweet Tea is loaded with Junior's songs.)

Five songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me: This one is tough. These aren't necessarily my five all-time favorites, but they are five great songs that I can think of now. In no particular order:

• Tangled Up In Blue by Bob Dylan
• Gotta Get It Worked On, by Delbert McClinton
• Candle in the Wind, by Elton John and Bernie Taupin
• Thunder Road, by Bruce Springsteen
• Million Miles, by Bob Dylan

The Musical Baton doesn't include a question about the next record I'm going to buy. Here is my current must-have list:

• Rubber Factory by the Black Keys
• All Night Long and Sad Days, Lonely Nights, both by Junior Kimbrough
• Everything by Sonny Landreth that I don't already have
   

Five people to whom I'm passing the baton:

• Ernie the Attorney Svenson. I don't think I've ever read a meme on his blog. But I know he's a music fan, and I hope he'll share some of his insights with us.
• Kitty Says, because she's good people, and because I'm pretty sure she'll actually pick up the baton.
• Mike Cernovich, lover of fine cigars and the Bill of Rights.
• Brad Parker, of Where's Travis McGee? (Take your time, Brad; I know you're busy.)
• Dave!, preacher to the perverted and the only guy I know whose name includes mandatory punctuation.

Comments

[Richard]

Cut and paste directly from Rainman1:

The connection between Brain Salad Surgery and New Orleans is Dr. John. Check this verse from Right Place, Wrong Time:

I been running trying to get hung up in my mind
Got to give myself a good talking-to this time
Just need a little brain salad surgery
Got to cure this insecurity

The liner notes on Brain Salad Surgery confirm that ELP got the album title from Dr. John's lyric.

[Ray]

Well done. As promised, here is your laurel and Hardy handshake.

[Richard]

Thank you, Thank you. But I really couldn't have done it without You.