Between lingering effects from jet lag and a soul crushing, lung punishing bout with a cold/flu-like locomotive that ran over me for the better part of a week, I’ve had a few nap filled days and sleepless nights lately. Last weekend, the news, turned to late night talk shows which turned into the late late show, and finally I saw the edge of the earth in the form of 3 AM informercials. There was an hour long sales pitch from Time Warner asking me to buy a compilation of 70′s classics. I didn’t go so far as to look for my phone and credit card but I might have actually turned up the TV a little bit. Yeah, you know what, I said I was sick so get off my back.
“Indian Reseration (The Lament of the Cherokee Reservation Indian)” – Paul Revere and the Raiders (1971)
I finally did go to bed that morning but one of the first things that I did the next morning was download a Best of the 70′s collection. There were some great songs coming out, way back then when I was a kid. If there was ever an award given for Best All Time Organ Lick, it would have to be the closing notes from this song. Beginning, middle, and end if you could construct a song with Stevie Ray Vaughan’s guitar lick at the beginning of “Modern Love”, the chunky jolt transitioning into the chorus of Radiohead’s “Creep” and the organ at the end of “Indian Reservation,” you would have rock and roll gold… or a train wreck of epic proportions.
I love this song, in a kind of irrational way. Not that it doesn’t deserve to be loved, it’s just that I love it for reasons that I can’t really explain. It has that mysterious, on the edge of the universe quality that speaks to me like certain things out of Beach House, Sigur Rós, or Zola Jesus’s song book. It’s pale and lonely, and resigned to whatever cosmic forces lay in wait for us. It’s all of this, or none of this. It’s the kind of song that gets made, on the type of album, when the artist is unencumbered by labels and salesmen paying stations to get songs in the rotation. I love it.
Funky string section… an intro that almost sounds like “Sea of Love”… the gear box is getting a work out as there are about five speeds… are those a few Calypso strains about halfway through… very interesting and bursting with flavor.
It almost sounds like Big Audio Dynamite fronted by Deer Tick’s John McCauley.
I saw Etta James in concert sometime in the early 90′s. It’s kind of foggy as to exactly what year it was but it was kind of book ended by Nevermind dominating Seatown and “In Utero” and the tour in support of that record (and the ticket to the show at the Mercer Arena that I ended up selling for some bizarre reason that probably revolved around me wanting to have electricity or water at my house). Ms. James played the Exhibition Hall at The Seattle Center which is kind of a weird venue for concerts unless they are on the Bumbershoot bill over Labor Day weekend. It was a fundraiser if I remember correctly for AIDS/HIV awareness and prevention and a friend of mine scored tickets and we went to listen to the big, sassy mama do her thing. She was great, as you can imagine. She was nasty and lewd, and you’re probably not surprised. She didn’t have a whole bunch of slow swoony “At Last” moments and she rocked the house, and you know that you need to go listen to the rest of her catalog.
Jamesetta Hawkins passed away today at the age of 73. She won six Grammys over the course of her career, and is ranked as the 22nd best singer of all time by Rolling Stone. Her hey day, and greatest commercial success was fairly brief and paltry relative to her huge talent and the respect that she has earned by her peers and fans. I don’t make bucket lists for musical artists that I want to see based on their hall of fame credentials or just so that I can say that I saw them before they passed. I go to acts that I am: curious about, in awe of, or because they just so happen to play what I really dig at the present time. I would honestly have to say that when I went to see Etta James, I was curious about her; and by the time she was done making every man, woman (hopefully no children were there), wall, and ceiling tile of the Seattle Center’s Exhibition Hall sweat , I was in awe of her.
I came unnecessarily close to being on the outside listening in on the Alabama Shakes show here in Seattle in two weeks. Last weekend, I volunteered for the task of securing tickets for my group of four and then let myself get distracted for a couple of days. I finally got around to buying them late Tuesday night and found out on Wednesday morning that the show is sold out. Whewww!!! Narrow aversion of major explaining accomplished.
I’m always looking for those budget friendly shows that highlight emerging artists in an intimate space. The Alabama Shakes at The Crocodile for $14.50 (service charges included) has to rank as about a 9.5 on a 10 scale. What would make it a perfect score? The show is on a school night.
It’s a good find when you can browse the racks at your local record store and find a lad of Maltese/Italian/Egyptian descent who grew up in jolly old England and serves up a well aged, bluesy, Nashville country sound. If that sounds like something that might interest you, Pete Molinari could be your guy.
The first show that I went to last year was Bobby Long at The Tractor. I’m kind of lumping them together because they both play a brand of music that is more American, honky tonk, blues than what you typically get out of a young guy in the UK. They’re refreshing acts because they broaden the base of the genre by keeping it young and taking it international.
My latest musical crush was supposed to be Lana Del Rey but I must admit I was rather underwhelmed by her performance on SNL last Saturday. There’s always someone to fill the void though and my long weekend locked away fighting off jet lag and the wintry conditions outside have given me time to get acquainted with The Dø.
Band co-founder and singer Olivia Merilahti draws a pretty fair comparison to Björk but that doesn’t really work for me mostly since I’ve never been much of a Björk fan. Based in France, Merilahti of Finnish descent, and partner Dan Levy topped the French charts with their debut album “A Mouthful” which was released in 2008. This accomplishment was notable because of the fact that it was the first time that a French act singing in English had gone to # 1. Their tour schedule is still pretty light but I’ll be anxiously awaiting a jaunt through the US by The Dø hopefully later this year.
It’s time to start thinking about who I want to see in concert this year. There are a couple shows, on the books at some of my favorite venues around town, that I’m 90% sure that I’ll be checking in on. The Alabama Shakes are playing The Crocodile at the end of January, Kasabian is at the Showbox in a couple of months, The Black Keys are at the top of my list and will be hitting the town at The Key in May. What else? A country show would be nice, maybe a big ticket one like Brad Paisley. Gary Clark, Jr., Young the Giant, M83, maybe Cloud Nothings. And sure why not, O.A.R. is playing The Neptune and I haven’t been there yet since it re-opened as a concert venue.
I’ve never really gotten a good feel for O.A.R. and this might be viewed as a huge disservice in comparing them but I kind of hear a cross between Maroon 5 and Sublime.
The adventure to India was fun, educational, enlightening, and gave a pretty good glimpse as to the way that a huge part of the human population lives. If I’m able to look at my trip strictly as an observer, life for those who I looked out upon is much simpler than mine. I really have no idea if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, it just is.
When the trip (not just this trip but any trip) is over, there’s always what comes next. Life will go back to being pretty normal in a day or two but in the meantime, there’s that nice calming feeling of just being home. That’s the fringe benefit of traveling especially when it is pretty far outside of your comfort zone. When you get back to where you came from and get that reaffirmation that you really love that place, it’s a beautiful thing. It’s good to be home.
I’m a day early on my cover post since I usually tack that up on Friday but this seems like a nice tune to depart India by. There’s a lot to love about this place, and a lot to be desired. At certain times it felt to me that India is some kind of crazy out of control experiment in the way that humans interact with each other, and co-exist with nature. At other times, it felt like India held a lot of the answers as to how other societies should behave. People have less here, there are less options, opportunities, and organization but it still feels like there’s more of everything.
I’m not sure why this song felt like a good way to depart this country besides the fact that today we visited the place where Gandhi spent his last days.
I’m posting the original version as well as a cover simply because I love The Black Keys and post the Akron duo gratuitously.
Let me be your everlasting light
A train going away from pain
Love is the coal
That makes this train roll
Let me be your everlasting light
