Mid-life Crisis

Claire Colburn:  [voice over] Some music *needs* air. Roll down your window

-From the movie Elizabethtown


I've been experiencing a mid-life crisis of late.

I've started listening to music and bands for which I had no use, 30 years ago.

Loudly, in my car.   

Specifically, ACDC and Rush.

Those of you that are fans are all "Yeah, so?  cool!"

But I'm.... not a fan.

Except I sort of am, now.

Not "go see 'em live next tour" fan.  or even "Snap up their back catalog on iTunes" fan.

But, if I happen upon Limelight or New World Man or Highway to Hell or Thunderstruck when surfing the pre-sets, I no longer keep going.

I stop.

And turn it way up.

And, weather permitting, roll down the window.
On truly special days, I'll open the sun roof.

Sometimes music DOES need airing out.   Kirsten Dunst was right.

I do not know how this has come to be.
I expect, in large part, it's due to what I CAN'T expect to hear, when pre-set surfing.  If Husker Du, Chris Whitley, The Jayhawks or The Replacements were on the radio regularly, I'd likely not be writing this.  
But the aren't.
For whatever reason, one day I said "nope" and kept hitting the buttons when I came across Freewill, but the next day I didn't.

So, there I am, middle aged guy, blasting Rush out of the open windows of his car, kids booster seat, granola bar wrappers, stuffed dog and a single glove from last winter, loose in the back seat.

Of COURSE I'm singing along.

(Turns out I already knew most of the lyrics, having picked them up via osmosis somehow, 30 years ago.)

I can live with that, I think. To hell with the other cars around me at the stop lights.

They can sing their own songs...

But I WILL continue to blow past Zep, Floyd and the Nuge, without hesitation.

Gotta have standards.

Just bust a move.

Found an “Eighties and beyond” radio station the other day (100.3 on your FM dial), liked what I heard, programmed it into my radio.

Was parked on the northbound Tristate, surfing my pre-sets with little satisfaction this morning, when I heard it.

Young MC’s Bust a Move.

I derived far more pleasure from it than I would have expected.

You want it? You got it! You want it, baby you got it! (just bust a move)

Pure poetry.

I’ll rate it an 87, Dick. It’s got a great beat, and you can car dance to it.

Since I was sitting in traffic with nothing better to do, I drifted back to late winter /early spring of 1990.

We had just let the word out that we were planning a big house party, I believe our last one in the old, haunted (yep), house four of us rented in Lansing.

I was talking to friends, Chris and Verna. They complained that house parties thrown at guys houses never had good dance music. They said they wanted to shake it, basically, and put me on notice, musically speaking.

Hmm…. Girls wanted to dance a lot, at my house.
Yeah, I could work on making that happen.

But what did guys know about dancing? We were all about standing in circles, playing air guitar, throwing our fists in the air above our heads.

You gotta fight. For your right. To Paaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrtee!

Kick it.

And while I WAS working for the college radio station, and my tastes were more eclectic than many guys, I realized I didn’t have “Shake it “ music lying around the house.

Apparently, while awesome party songs in their own right, I wanna Be Sedated by the Ramones, So Alive by Love and Rockets, and Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode did not exactly meet the required criteria.

So, I brought in a pro, a ringer, demographically speaking.

I hooked up with a female friend of mine, Tracy, and explained the problem. We got a hold of various acquaintances, did a lot of borrowing, and viola!

Approximately 80 people jammed in my house, with Joy and Pain by Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock, the aforementioned Bust a Move, and other music to “shake it” by, blasting through my roommate’s speakers on a cold Saturday night.

I still have the mix tape, in a cupboard in my basement. I no longer have any equipment I’d feel confident playing it on, but it’s still there.
As I recall, there’s a cigarette burn on the case, and the ink’s faded a bit.

Back to the present, traffic was starting to move, albeit very slowly. Bust A Move faded out, replaced by a news and traffic update.
Seems traffic was heavy on the toll roads.

The hell you say!

Jeff Buckley - Hallelujah

Jeff Buckley – Hallelujah


Seems kinda random, doesn’t it? I mean, for a topic.

Heck, I have to explain it, before most will even understand what it means.

Jeff Buckley was a musician, who drowned in the Mississippi River in the mid 90’s, right around the time the first hint of future stardom surfaced.

He had released a critically acclaimed record (“Grace”), had a single that received air play, and was poised to break huge, probably with the release of his follow up record.
My memory’s not clear on it, because I didn’t know much about him at the time, but he might have drowned in Memphis, perhaps while taking a break in recording or rehearsing.

Add to the story the fact that he was the son of Tim Buckley, who was himself a critically acclaimed musician that died tragically young.

Hallelujah – A great song by Leonard Cohen.
“Who’s Leonard Cohen?”
Oh, please. That’s another entry.
Suffice to say he’s a guy who’s been writing great songs for 40+ years; songs that are best known as hits for other artists.

Which brings this narrative back around to Jeff Buckley - Hallelujah.

Buckley recorded Cohen’s “Hallelujah”. I’d actually read about the version, but hadn’t heard it. And since the one single that was released before Buckley’s death, Last Goodbye (there’s some irony, right there) didn’t resonate with me, I gave little attention to those who heaped such praise upon the recording.

Then one day not too long ago, I’m driving in the car with my wife and daughter, and this song came on.
And it was achingly beautiful. So much so that tears were welling up in my eyes, just listening to it. And when I realized what I was listening to, the tears started flowing a little harder.
“My god. His voice…" I thought to myself.

“What are we listening to?” my wife asked, in a slightly hushed tone it seemed.
“Jeff Buckley doing a Leonard Cohen song.” I choke out in reply.
“It’s…”
“Yeah.”

So there you go. A heartbreakingly beautiful rendition of a superbly written song, performed by an artist I never cared for when he was actually walking the earth.

Did it make me re-think my musical tastes?
Of course not.
Do I want to seek out a copy of a 15 year old CD for which I had no interest at the time, based solely on one song? No, not really. Thought it may prompt me to buy my first musical download, ever.

Do I, sadly, listen to the live recording of Cohen performing his own song, and while appreciating it find myself saying “Buckley got more out of it”? yep,I must confess that I do.

pepsi challenge for music

Was driving to work this morning, listening to Chris Whitley's Rocket House on cd.
I'm a big fan, and really didn't like this cd when it came out.

It was not easy. It was a marked change in direction for him. It didn't resonate.

But, 10+ years later, It's possibly my favorite Whitley disc.

Years ago, in my youth, Pepsi made a huge push to overtake Coke in market segment.
Toward this end, they created the Pepsi Challenge. They showed up everywhere, had people take a sip from two different cola's, and state their fave.
Pepsi won by a large margin.
Coke, in response, came out with New Coke, which tasted sweeter and more like Pepsi.
And.... it tanked.

See, what the pepsi challenge did was offer you a taste, and a taste of pepsi's not too bad.
But a whole bottle of it was simply too sweet for many people.
Coke Classic came out, the pepsi challenge disappeared, and life moved forward.

What does this have to do with Rocket House?

geezus, do I have to spell everything out for you?

It grew on me. first taste was not indicative of long term enjoyment. It wasn't yummy sweet, but became hugely satisfying over time.

I've had similar issues with a # of CD's from Carbon Leaf. I was insta-fan of the band when I heard them live, and of their CD, Echo Echo. So much so that when they released Indian Summer, I didn't enjoy the first taste very much. It, over time, has become my favorite of all their discs. Their new one, Nothing Rhyme's With Woman - same thing. And it's growing on me, rapidly.
Most of my favorite cd's are not ones that instantly resonated. They tend to be a bit different, a little more complex, a little harder to digest, initially.

The trick is to be patient with new flavors. Now if i can only get my 2 year old daughter to buy into this theory, she'll be eating eggs and vegetables in no time...

Eight (8) more days 'til the 4th of July...

“Eight more days ‘til the 4th of july….Eight more days ‘til I burn my house down”
-Ike Reilly, from the “We belong to the Staggering Evening” CD.

Ike (one of the best rock songwriters around, and a great live show), is from the Chicago area, which makes perfect sense, from a fireworks standpoint...

Read on.

Received an email from our village today, highlighting everything that’s going on in the next week or so.
At the end, in small type, the email reminds everyone that it’s illegal to use fireworks in our village (the whole state, actually), and to please leave fireworks displays to the professionals.

Perhaps if everyone did that, I would not pray for rain, every night between now and July 5th.

Yep, it’s illegal to possess and use fireworks in IL, so there’s a lucrative cottage industry of retail firework warehouses, juuuuuust over the border in Indiana.


The fireworks started in my neighborhood, two nights ago. Not the non-stop “do we live in Baghdad?” explosions that we’ll undoubtedly be experiencing by July 1, but….it’s started. And it won’t stop, as police do not make efforts to enforce the illegal nature of the fireworks, nor the late night noise violations.

By July 1, it’ll be steady from 7pm until past 11pm. As we get closer to the fourth, more and more folks will join in with their illegal fireworks. By the night of July 4th, we’ll sit out on our front stoop around dusk, and watch not only the official fireworks display, but no fewer than a dozen other unofficial (illegal) displays of varying quality and duration.
While listening to even more…

On July 5th, I'll find exploded pieces of fireworks on my roof; dogs all over the village will come out from under the beds where they’ve been cowering for a week, and the huge amount of trash left behind on sidewalks, railroad tracks and in neighborhood parks will start to sink slowly into the earth.

Yep, I’m a bit of a curmudgeon about them. In my crowded residential neighborhood, they seem to be really dangerous and disruptive idea, and one more excuse for folks to not give a flying fig about their neighbors. Also, growing up, noone had these kinds of fireworks, and going to a real display somewhere away from residential neighborhoods, was a very big deal.

There was one time, however, as an adult, that I really saw the appeal and fun of playing with colorful explosives.

Halloween in Ireland is a very big deal. It’s a bank holiday there, akin to the 4th of July or Memorial day here.

I happened to be on vacation there, one Halloween a few years ago, or I never would have known this. We were staying with some acquaintances in a little village in N. Central Ireland, pretty close to the n/s border.
The acquaintance, Rory, was known for his Halloween gathering. He was also known for his professional grade fireworks display.

The village was atop a hill, he lived on a nice chunk of land partway down the hill, which afforded anyone who wanted to watch, a great view. It also meant that he would be lighting them off nowhere near anyone else’s house or property.
Fireworks of the caliber that Rory had, were very illegal in that part of Ireland. But every year he’d buy ‘em someplace vaguely shady, and light ‘em off on Halloween, with what appeared to be ½ the village as cheering audience.

And every year, there would be a handful of kids posted by his gate, whose job it was to run and alert him if the Gardia was arriving. So of course, when he asked me if I wanted to help him with the show, I said “Sure, sounds awesome!”

I didn’t even pause when he handed me a beer and a blowtorch. Hey, when in Ireland…

So, we’d spark the torch, light off a couple of these massive roman candle-type thingies, and then run away, laughing, before they went off, to avoid lighting ourselves on fire.

About mid-way through, as I’m standing in a dark field, in rural Ireland, holding a blowtorch, I briefly pondered such things as how many laws I might have been breaking; what would happen if the Gardia DID show up; and how it might negatively impact my efforts to make my flight home, scheduled for the following afternoon. After a moment of this, I saw Rory heading back toward the launching area for more, so I pushed these negative thoughts out of my head, and trotted after him, blow torch in hand.

no sooner had I published the last post, then I realized I missed some truly awesome women-in-rock songs.

Totally John Cusack'd my list...

I swear I pressed the publish post button on the last post, and immediately heard Mandinka, by Sinead O'Conner, in my head.

Her album, Lion and The Cobra, came outta nowhere in late 80's and knocked me on my college-radio dj'ing ass.
Mandinka, Put Your Hands On Me... floored me.

I had just about picked myself up, when Emperor's New Clothes showed up on her follow up.

"What about whats-her-name, you know, uh....The Pretenders singer?" my wife asked.

Oh my christ, how could I have forgotten Chrissie Hynde?
I remembered Joan Jett, but forgot Chrissie Hynde?

Does Zombie, by The Cranberries count? Not sure if Delores wrote it, or if one of the guys in the band did. Was she just the vocalist?
it rocks, for sure.

Does Shame on You really connect with me on the same level as Chicken Man? Nope. How'd I forget Chicken Man, also by the Indigo Girls?

One of my favorite artists is Suzanne Vega, but not 'cuz she rocks.
Except she really sorta did, on 99.9 degrees and Blood Makes Noise.
and to a slightly lesser degree on Left of Center.

Siouxie and the banshees? Cities In Dust, or later-era alt. rock classics like Peek-a-Boo and Kiss them for Me are certainly worthy songs.


But is the simple fact that I didn't remember these songs, these great artists, when compiling my initial list, proof that they didn't belong on my top 10 desert Island list?

Or is it more indicative of the fact that my brain's failing?

History will (already has, probably) decided on the relative importance and staying power of all the above-referenced.

But for my own tastes, Should Mandinka have made the cut, instead of Seether? Probably. I still hear it once in awhile on the radio, and sing along with it at the top of my lungs, failing miserably each time to hit the high notes.

And shouldn't that be the defining characteristic of a great rock and roll song?

If you find yourself singing along to it at the top of your lungs, completely un-selfconcsiously, and the act of doing so brings you great joy, momentarily elevating you...... you have a winner.

for my little woman who rocks

was driving home the other day, when I caught one of my all-time favorite songs on WXRT. They were playing their "women in rock" segment. Artist was PJ Harvey, song was Sheela-Na-Gig. It was from her debut in 1992.

In one of those "only happens on TV/ In The Movies" moments, I was trying desperately to find a hole in the traffic, so I could get past some fuktard who was doing 60mph in the left lane on the Tri-State. With 1/2 mile of open lane in front of him.

I really hate that.
Anyhow, as I see a convoluted but technically possible route across two lanes, and then back, The opening bars of the song start playing.
I had my own soundtrack for aproximately 3 minutes and 20 seconds.
Song started, I turned it up and punched the gas pedal.
It was one of those brief, fleeting moments when everything aligns on a cosmic level, and is just as quickly gone again.
But when you're actually in the moment, you're....high.

I had time to contemplate the idea of a special segment for women in rock, a few minutes later. WXRT plays plenty of songs by female artists.
But went out of their way to celebrate specific artists, for five minutes, two days a week.

They tend to be overshadowed by the pure abundance of men in rock. Also, it tends to come in phases. There will be brief periods where you'll find a lot of girlbands on the airwaves, then you don't anymore.

Heard another one of my personal faves, driving home from the train last night.

So decided to get all "High Fidelity" about it, and come up with a top-10 desert island list of some of my favorite"women in rock" songs. This is by no means a comprehensive list, and, aside from the first couple, are really not in any kind of order.

For my little woman of rock....


1. Sheela Na Gig - PJ Harvey
2. Feed the Tree - Belly
3. Seether - Veruca Salt
4. Shame on You - Indigo Girls
5. Cornflake Girl - Tori Amos
6. Homestead - Michelle Shocked
7. Doll Parts - Hole
8. My Sister - Juliana Hatfield
9. Last Splash - The Breeders
10. Pissing in the River - Patti Smith

Honorable mentions:

Pass you By - Gillian Welch
Sweet Relief - Maria Mckee
I know What Boys Like - The Waitresses
We Got The Beat - The Go-Go's


And like in "High Fidelity" you know damn well that I added and subtracted from the above list many times.


I left some great rock and roll songs off the above list, just because... they're not my favorites. I don't even care for 'em that much, but recognize them for what they are.

Do You Wanna Touch Me? - Joan Jett
Barracuda - Heart
Thing Called Love - Bonnie Raitt

And very talented female artists were left off, cuz... they don't really rock.

my $0.02, anyhow.

music as lifestyle / fashion

an email exchange with a friend led to the topic of concert footage he's seen, of bands like The Grateful Dead, allman bros, skynyrd....

He marveled at the lack of showmanship, even while some of the music was amazing.


I don't think you went to those shows to watch the band's performance. I think you went to let the music flow through you, whilst you danced awkwardly around on the grass, barefoot, perhaps with a tie dye clad bra-less waif, who was partially obscured in a cloud of patchouli funk. She was probably really hot, but you'd have to hose her down real good... That's just the allman brothers and the dead. Skynyrd... I think you went to those shows so your 200lb tube top wearing girlfriend could climb up on your skinny, homemade tattoo-adorned shoulders, and scream "whoo hoo!" while waving the confed. flag over her head... here's an alarming combo we studiously avoided when living down south. Skynyrd playing a 4th of July concert at the hockey arena in Biloxi. We were pretty sure THAT crowd would have made us pack up our sh*t and flee MS, that very night. GD and AB actually put out a fair amount of music I like hearing, especially when I'm driving. and they were known for putting on marathon-length concerts. filled with 20 minute guitar solos, and a bunch of guys just standing around...

My friend indicated that the serious deadhead types always made him uncomfortable, and would write this off as being a product of HIS own narrowmindedness.

My thoughts?

the true dead heads bugged me, too.
And honestly, how many bootleg concert tapes can you possibly need?
And was the '78 Alpine Valley version of Dark Star REALLY more profoundly trancendent than the '76 Red Rocks version?

I recall music conversations with them, never lasting long.

Me: If you like that, do you also like ______ (fill in the blank, CSN, Neil Young, allman bros, etc)

"No. I only listen to the 'dead."

Ok. good talk. let's do it again soon.

Any group of people that have decided that one band, or one narrow genre of music is the ONLY thing to listen to, and actually adopt lifeystle options and fashion choices to coincide... let me know when you've grown out of the posing phase of your life.


True dead heads; all the black clothes wearing, Morissey worshipping squids and the portly pale girls that loved them even though they were secretly gay; the unkempt self mutilating punkers who would hang out at the McDonalds in the Kalamazoo Center on saturdays when I was in high school...

f*ck 'em for their closed mindedness and music-fueled mis-placed elitist attitudes.
I'm 40 years old now, and some of them are still working in record stores, wondering which poorly attended show they should go to next....
but young women in tie-dyes... they were ok.
so very ok...

And while I'm at it, f*ck the sailing fanatics that will only listen to Jimmy Buffett on their boats.
you're a stereotype.
Put down the rum drink and change the CD already.
But, uh.... thanks for taking me sailing those times. I really dug it.