10.09.2011

Soundtrack Songs I Have Loved

You might think I spent all of my youth buying soundtracks. This is completely and utterly wrong. You're clearly not as smart as you think you are, with your fancy book learning and alleged keen insight into what I spent money on when I was younger.

I will have you know, Mister or Miss Smartypants (Mrs. Smartypants if you married into the Smartypants clan) that I very often bought 45s of songs that were on soundtracks. And sometimes I bought these 45s without ever seeing, or having any real intention to see, the movies in which they appeared. See, just when you think you have all the answers, I change the questions (thank you, Rowdy Roddy Piper, star of Body Slam, whose soundtrack I, of course, have).

In any event, now that we've pointed out how stupid you are, let's look at some of the great soundtrack songs I own on 45s.



Who can forget the brilliant acting career of Olympic gymnast Mitch Gaylord? Or the amazing solo career of Duran Duran's Andy Taylor? Or the days when Wayne Gretzky's wife was a motion picture lead? What's that? Everyone, you say? Well, then let's all go back to those thrilling times and enjoy Andy Taylor's "Take It Easy," from the Gaylord/Jones vehicle American Anthem.



I cannot begin to tell you what compelled me to buy this 45 (it almost certainly wasn't the video). I can only guess that my sister's slavish devotion to Duran Duran (though she was more of a John Taylor gal) finally rubbed off on me. And I can't decide if that video makes me glad or sad that I've never seen American Anthem. That Mitch Gaylord seems like one hell of an actor.



Did you know that Bob Seger's "Shakedown" (from Beverly Hills Cop II) was nominated for an Academy Award in 1987? And that somehow it didn't win? It lost to "(I've Had) The Time of My Life," which I guess I can understand. If it had lost to fellow nominee "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now," that would've been a problem.



Fun fact: I still get a little excited when that song comes on the radio (i.e., twice a year).


Wikipedia tells me that Little Richard performed "Shakedown" at the Academy Awards that year, which enables me to make a nice segway into Mr. Penniman's "Great Gosh A' Mighty" from Down and Out in Beverly Hills, a movie I clearly remember falling asleep in the middle of after I rented it from the late, lamented Electronic Junction in Staten Island, NY. Oh well. The song's still good.



To be fair, the movie might be good. I get the impression it's not a film that a 10-year-old would find uproarious. For instance, neither Bobcat Goldthwait nor John Candy were in it. They were, though, both in Hot to Trot, whose soundtrack I have nothing to say about (if there even was one). And I probably shouldn't bring up that I did think that movie was funny when I was a kid. I'm gonna go ahead and guess that it's less funny than I remember. I will look for it on Turner Classic Movies and get back to you.



If memory serves, Innerspace was the first movie I saw at the sprawling UA movie multiplex in Staten Island. And, unlike, Hot to Trot, I think it holds up pretty well. Martin Short's great, Dennis Quaid is right in the heart of his cool period, and Robert Picardo's Cowboy was awesome (I will sometimes involuntarily break out into "I'm an Old Cowhand (from the Rio Grande)" just because of his rendition). Screw it, let's watch that before we get to the song.



Rod Stewart's cover of Sam Cooke's "Twistin' the Night Away" is just about as good as that, though, and one of the last cool things Rod Stewart ever did (there were a few more decent years after this, and "Forever Young" was my grammar school graduation song, so I've got a soft spot for that).




Innerspace was about as trippy as my young mind could handle, so there is absolutely no way that I would have had any interest in seeing Less Than Zero (and when I finally did get around to seeing it, I wound up being not that much more interested). So that might partially explain why I didn't buy the 45 of the Bangles' excellent cover (which I doubt I knew at the time) of "Hazy Shade of Winter." We were given a large dose (pun intended) of antidrug lectures in school, so I might've thought twice about buying a 45 from a druggie movie. But I eventually picked up the 45 a decade or so later. It stands as not only one of the better soundtrack songs ever, but also one of the best covers.



Speaking of buying soundtrack songs well after the fact, there is another category of Soundtracks I Have Loved and that is Soundtracks I Have Bought in My 20s and 30s Because I Loved One Song on Them and, Hey, This Record's Cheap, So I'm Gonna Buy It. So, let's look at those before we wrap this whole thing up (don't be sad).


I know what you're thinking. (Did you ever notice I know what you're thinking a lot? Either you are totally transparent and/or feeble-minded or I'm some sort of dark genius who can peer into the minds of all those around him. You choose the one that makes you more comfortable.) How can you have a series about great soundtracks and not properly salute the Almighty Lord of Soundtracks, Mr. Kenny Loggins? Well, you can't. And that is why I salute the first and greatest of the Loggins soundtrack oeuvre, "I'm Alright" from Caddyshack.



There is nothing bad about that song. Nothing. Now, should Mr. Loggins have accepted the invitation to repeat the magic for Caddyshack II? Probably not. But I still lie awake at night sometimes and think about how that movie got made, so I think there may have been some sort of black magic involved in that whole production.


Because I am a heartless ogre, Disney movies have never done much for me. There are a few exceptions, though, and of that bunch my favorite is the often-overlooked Oliver & Company, which, due to its utilization of the vocal skills of Huey Lewis and Billy Joel on the soundtrack, was right up my young alley (though I was a bit old for the movie when it came out). Mr. Joel voiced Dodger, my favorite character (I think we still have the McDonald's Christmas ornament), and sang my favorite song in the movie.




When it comes to the greatest soundtrack songs of all time, there is a healthy amount of competition, as you have seen and heard if you have followed along here. So, what's the best? It's a near-impossible question for me to answer, so thanks a lot for asking it, jerk. And you know what? I'm not giving you a definitive answer. So there.

But if you're compiling a Top 10 (are you? Are you stealing my idea? That's so like you), there's no way you can leave out Lindsay Buckingham's "Holiday Road" from National Lampoon's Vacation. It's a classic song from a classic movie. The video, which I'd never seen before, is odd, though.




And while you're compiling that Top 10 (could you at least give me a shoutout or something? I think I deserve that much), you may want to look at the soundtrack of one of the greatest cinematic achievements this or any other country has put forth. I am, of course, speaking of the Fat Boys' bravura performance in Disorderlies. Incredibly, they were able to take time off from acting in the film to record one of my all-time favorite soundtrack cuts, an ostensible cover of "Baby, You're A Rich Man" that puts the Beatles to shame.



See what I mean? The Human Beat Box's sword solo is incredible, no?

Well, that's all I have on soundtracks. Actually, it probably isn't. But this can't go on forever, so let's end the series here.

Thanks for reading, and I'll see you at the movie soundtrack section of your local record store.

10.05.2011

What I Liked About September


*Paige Ellis's debut as between-innings cohost, Nationals Park, Washington, DC
*Marshall Crenshaw/The Bottle Rockets, World Cafe Live, Wilmington, DE
*Florence Henderson, Bookends, Ridgewood, NJ
*Avett Brothers/DeVotchKa/River City Extension, PNC Bank Arts Center, Holmdel, NJ

*Pete Seeger, NYU Kimmel Center, NYC
*The most exciting night of Major League Baseball I've ever seen
*The slight flutter of hope that comes each September for Islanders fans
*Cinematic Titanic, Best Buy Theatre, NYC

*Getting a photo (well, two photos) with Dave "Gruber" Allen
*One of the best 9/11 articles I've ever read
*Tim Raines laughing at my Officer Karkovice t-shirt
*The willingness of people with cars to drive me places

9.30.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 57

Lots of nerd talk here
Though not so much that it hides
A compelling tale

The Soul of a New Machine by Tracy Kidder (293 pp.)

Book Revku, Vol. 56

She had a hard life
But managed to keep fighting
And still she rises

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou (246 pp.)

Book Revku, Vol. 55

There should be a book
Just about Jerry Blavat
This is fine for now

Save the Last Dance for Satan by Nick Tosches (114 pp.)

9.29.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 54

The body count is high
And the anguish still higher
Lots to ponder here

The Plague by Albert Camus (278 pp.)

9.28.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 53

Fire in the big top
Retold and recreated
With great care and love

The Circus Fire: A True Story of an American Tragedy by Stewart O'Nan (370 pp.)

9.25.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 52

Hulkamania
Ran less wild than George's prime
Believe it, brother

Gorgeous George: The Outrageous Bad-Boy Wrestler Who Created American Pop Culture by John Capouya (282 pp.)

Book Revku, Vol. 51

I don't think he should
But he's good enough at this
To quit his day job

An Object of Beauty by Steve Martin (292 pp.)

9.10.2011

The 50-A-Day Project: Books 41-50

This was a slog. I tried to be ambitious and read some fiction authors--Robert Ford, Evelyn Waugh, Eudora Welty, and Joseph Heller--I hadn't read before but who are pretty universally adored. Well, that didn't work out. Some were worse than others, but I can honestly say I was underwhelmed by every last one of them. I'm willing to accept it might be me. I'd also be willing to try again with any of them, so if you have a recommendation, let me know.

I figured the summer months would be the hardest for me to keep pace (lots of work, lots of free concerts, and lots of hot air circulating in my apartment...air conditioning is for the weak!), and I was most certainly correct. But the summer is quickly receding, and the last three books I've read (I'm late writing this, so I'm now almost done with Book 53) have been a breeze, so I feel a rally coming up in my favorite season.

After finishing the 50th book, I had tallied 15,366 pages in 246 days (I think...I lost track of when I finished the 50th book due to hurricane overload), for an average of 62.5 pages a day. I know--that average has been dropping every time I check in. I'll do better in the fall, OK? Wait, why am I promising something to you? Get off my back! I'll do what I want, jerk.

Anyway...

Best Fiction Book: Catch-22 by Joseph Heller (by default...I really didn't like it that much, but there were at least some parts I liked)
Best Nonfiction Book: The Impossible: Rodney Mullen, Ryan Sheckler, and the Fantastic History of Skateboarding by Cole Louison (full disclosure: I know the author, but it is an honest answer)
Toughest Read: Losing Battles by Eudora Welty
Easiest Read: Fame Junkies: The Hidden Truths Behind America's Favorite Addiction by Jake Halpern
Number of Books on Loan: 0
Number of Books Given as Gifts: 0
Number of Books Signed by the Author: 1 (The Impossible: Rodney Mullen, Ryan Sheckler, and the Fantastic History of Skateboarding by Cole Louison)
Book That Was Sitting on the Shelf the Longest
: Catch-22 by Joseph Heller. Much like last time's BTWSotStL, this one was probably bought at the Friends of the Library Book Sale in Ithaca, NY, in 1994 or 1995, because it's a discard from the Finger Lakes Library System. I started reading it once before but couldn't make it through. But I persevered this time, for better or worse.

Best Passage:
[The author is talking with an agent, Cal Merlander, at the International Modeling and Talent Association convention, where children look to be "discovered."]

"'What about this girl?' I asked, pointing to an adorable four-foot blonde in pigtails.

'She's cute, but she's not superbright,' Merlander said.

'How do you know that?'

'I just know--like this one over here,' he said, gesturing toward a stocky girl of about ten. 'I guarantee that she is from a town with a population of five thousand or less. It's obvious that she comes from a community where manners and posture are not that important. She's a farm kid. This one right here, 4702, she's a bright kid--the type who runs the parents. She'll be in the health care business. This one here is also bright, but in a more literary way. She'll be a writer. She'll be your competition in a few years. And this one here--she'll be a hooker.'

'A hooker?'

'Yeah,' said Merlander."
from Fame Junkies: The Hidden Truths Behind America's Favorite Addiction by Jake Halpern

9.09.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 50

I know I should bow,
And, yes, the satire is sharp
But it drags a lot

Catch-22 by Joseph Heller (443 pp.)

9.08.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 49

Not too much new here
But the tone and strong structure
Make it a good read

The Ballad of Bob Dylan: A Portrait by Daniel Mark Epstein (448 pp.)

9.07.2011

What I Liked About August


*L&B Spumoni Gardens, Brooklyn, NY
*Jimmy Sturr, Raymond Bauer Wood Promenade, Linden, NJ
*Paul Anka, Great Auditorium, Ocean Grove, NJ
*A weekend with friends, Lake Harmony, PA


*Maybe Pete, Maxwell's, Hoboken, NJ
*Avoiding the brunt of Hurricane Irene
*First trip to Totonno's, Brooklyn, NY
*Silverball Museum, Asbury Park, NJ



*Aretha Franklin, Seaside Summer Concert Series, Brooklyn, NY
*Shelebration, Central Park, NYC
*The first Dairy Queen Blizzard of the summer
*The willingness of people with cars to drive me places

8.24.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 48

There's so much talking
That sometimes I just zoned out
It's well crafted, though

Losing Battles by Eudora Welty (416 pp.)

8.23.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 47

It has its moments
And some interesting folks
Could've been better

Fame Junkies: The Hidden Truths Behind America's Favorite Addiction by Jake Halpern (216 pp.)

8.22.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 46

The author worked hard
And his efforts have paid off
I'm glad I know him


The Impossible: Rodney Mullen, Ryan Sheckler, and the Fantastic History of Skateboarding
by Cole Louison (260 pp.)

8.21.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 45

Well, as it turns out,
The facts of his life are dry
I still think he's cool

Just the Facts, Ma'am: The Authorized Biography of Jack Webb by Daniel Moyer and Eugene Alvarez (260 pp.)

8.20.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 44

I get the feeling
I was supposed to laugh more
Honest, I did try

Vile Bodies by Evelyn Waugh (321 pp.)

8.19.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 43

Yet another book
Where I don't get all the fuss
Maybe I'm just dumb

The Sportswriter by Richard Ford (375 pp.)

8.06.2011

The Latest Installment in Our Weird Things Involving Accordions Series



That's 18-time Grammy winner Jimmy Sturr and the Jimmy Sturr Orchestra with special guest Chris Caffery from the Trans-Siberian Orchestra (and Savatage) doing Duane Eddy's "Rebel Rouser" at the Raymond Wood Bauer Promenade in Linden, NJ on August 5, 2011.

You're welcome.

8.02.2011

What I Liked About July

*Dick Contino, Festa Italiana, Milwaukee, WI
*The birth of Eleanor Ann Chambala
*Turkey burger with waffle bun, Waffle Frolic, Ithaca, NY
*Seeing a ball go through Bill Buckner's legs during pregame warmups, Newark, NJ
*Hanging with Team Cagnazzi, NYC
*Huey Lewis and the News, State Theatre, New Brunswick, NJ

*Joe Stanky and the Cadets, I Love St. Anthony's Festival, Jersey City, NJ
*David Wax Museum, Madison Square Park, NYC
*Clearcut 24th Anniversary Party, Dingbatz, Clifton, NJ
*Hanging with Anthony and Braden Iaffaldano, Atlantic Highlands, NJ
*The release of The Impossible
*Levon Helm Band/Emmylou Harris/Hayes Carll, Central Park, NYC

*Amy LaVere, WFC Plaza, NYC; Delilah's, Ithaca, NY
*Los Lobos, Prospect Park, Brooklyn, NY
*California bagel, Ithaca Bakery, Ithaca, NY
*Hanging with the Chambalas, Tully, NY
*Sauerbraten, Mader's, Milwaukee, WI
*The willingness of people with cars to drive me places

7.23.2011

35 Hours in Milwaukee



Last week, I took a look at the extended forecast and thought, "Oh hell no." So I plotted my escape from New Jersey. I revisited abandoned plans to see Dick Contino, master of the accordion and prolific shaker of the bellows, for the first time, at Milwaukee's Festa Italiana. I like Milwaukee. It's a short trip. I can get a flight for a little over $200. OK, I'm gone. That's pretty much how my trip planning went.

So I bought a ticket for Thursday morning, with a return flight Friday night. And this is what happened.


I arrive at Mitchell Airport a little before 8 a.m. (after a 6:55 a.m. flight from LaGuardia...first NYC taxi ride in more than a decade). I soon fall further in love with Milwaukee when I find a pretty great used bookstore in the airport. But there is precious little time to browse, because I need to make the 9:30 Breakfast Bingo special at the Potawatomi Bingo Casino.

I make Breakfast Bingo with several minutes to spare, plenty of time to buy a new bingo marker and get a good spot in the non-smoking section. I don't win and don't really even get close, but buying another Elvis bingo marker (yes, I said "another") is a win in itself. Plus, I snag a $5 hat from the gift shop mainly because it has two mini searchlights on the visor. This may be the greatest hat ever.



After bingo, I walk to my hotel (probably should've noted that it was at the top of a hill before deciding to do that), check in, dump some things out of my bag, and take my 5 records and one book to the Festa Italiana with the hopes of getting accordion god Dick Contino to sign them after one of his two performances that day.

But first, I must meet up with my buddy the Bronze Fonz for another photo.



Ayyyy!



Upon arriving at the Festa (the second the box office opens), I quickly scope out the stage where Mr. Contino is playing. I then get some eggplant sticks and consume them in the broiling sun. Soon, a slightly mentally challenged man expresses shock that I have never seen Dick Contino before, because he plays the Festa every year (for the last32 it turns out). I explain my journey. The line distinguishing "normal" from "slightly mentally challenged" grows a bit blurrier.



The 81-year-old Mr. Contino takes the stage just after 3, noticeably limping. But he doesn't let whatever's ailing him get in the way of his deft keyboard work and incomparable bellow shaking. I smile and tap my foot giddily for an hour, stopping only to move up a few rows (very easy to do, since there were maybe 10 people in the rows and a crowd of about 20 in the shade) to get better pictures.

Much to my delight, Mr. Contino comes out to sign stuff, and I soon become the center of attention for the senior citizens that have gathered around the merch table. I tell Mr. Contino that I have come all the way from New Jersey just to meet him, and he seems appreciative. It is hard to tell, though, because, truth be told, the Dick Contino fanbase does not contain the most patient people in the world. In the ten seconds it takes for me to get the albums out of their protective sleeves, I am ostensibly sent to the back of the line as everybody else angles in for their moment with Mr. Contino. Pictures are taken, memories are relived, and then eventually I get my records and book signed. I then try to pass off my camera to someone to take a picture, but he just starts snapping away and I have no idea when the picture is actually being taken. So those didn't come out so well. But the second time's the charm, as Mr. Contino's handler (who sort of looks--and sounds--like a compacted Tony Clifton) nails it in one take.



With the focus of the trip now fulfilled, I can relax. I have conversations with two different women about Mr. Contino. The first is the wife of the man (Mario) I first gave my camera to, and she tells me her husband worships Mr. Contino and is an accordion player himself (they've come down from Chicago for the day). He also grows vegetables, and Mr. Contino is soon given a sample of the peppers and basil they have brought. And then I'm given a pickle. Quite good. We soon depart, and I tell her I'll likely see them at the 7:30 show.

The second woman is, quite honestly, adorable, and pretty much a midwestern version of my mom. As I was sitting on a bench by Lake Michigan and putting my records back in their sleeves, she came up to me and asked if she could see the records. As she picked up each one, she remarked whether she had it or not, and then started talking about her many years of Contino fandom. She remembered going to see him when she was young and then when she was a bit older, and finally now as she, her husband, and Mr. Contino live the twilight years. When I tell her this is my first time seeing him, her initial reaction was sadness, because the guy I had just seen on the stage is nothing like the black-haired, muscled guy she'd been seeing for half her life. But I told her that I thought he was great, and she conceded that, yeah, he's still good, but it's just not the same, and he seems to be in so much pain. We talk about that for awhile, and how we both came because, well, who knows if he'll be back next year.

A few times in the conversation she mentioned that she never would've thought she'd actually get to be friends with Dick Contino. It's very sweet, as she talks about how she used to come see him at the Festa and then she and the rest of the Fan Club would all head back to the hotel with Mr. Contino after the day's sets were done, eventually all ending up at Denny's early in the morning. It's so sweet that I wish I had recorded it so I could hold on to it forever. But I'll have to make do with what my brain remembers.

As we wrapped up our conversation, she pondered whether she and her husband were going to stick around for the 7:30 show, because it's so hot and her husband's pushing her around in a wheelchair and that show's still three hours away. I told her to just find a good shady spot for a few hours and see if she can make it.

Of course, as I sat down for the 7:30 show, I turn to my right and hear, "Hey, Jersey!" There she was, dead center in the late-day sun (her husband sat in the wheelchair at the end of the row). Was there ever really a doubt?

I pondered leaving myself, but a few of the other acts held my attention enough that I was able to pass the time pretty well. There was also the Lego Leaning Tower of Pisa and Lego Miller Park to ogle.





Mario and his wife were back up front for the 7:30 show, and Mario was, as he did during the first show, taking it upon himself to make sure the house sound was OK for Mr. Contino (later on, he told me he slipped the sound guy $20 to give Mr. Contino a little more power). With a much larger crowd assembled for the evening show, Mr. Contino is even more on top of his game and even drops the zipper on his shirt a little lower to give the ladies something to take home with them.



I figured I oughta try to capture a Contino bellow shake on video, so I did. Behold the Contino shake during "Beer Barrel Polka." (The video's rough, so if you want to go right to the bellow shaking, hit the :20 mark.)




Mr. Contino definitely seemed a little looser and more at ease during the evening show, and it was probably the best of the three sets I saw (all pretty much the same setlist-wise, but, hey, you go with what works). After the closing number, the highly emotional "This Is My Life" (see Shirley Bassey's version here). I look over to Mario's wife, and she is openly crying. Seeing as I'd been up since 3 a.m. Central time, I'm a little surprised I didn't cry myself.

I finally spoke to Mario after the show (he seemed a little wary of me for some reason, perhaps because of my obnoxious Hawaiian shirt), and he told me about a show he was putting together in the fall in Chicago with him, Mr. Contino, and an Elvis impersonator (looks like I'm going to Chicago in the fall). Also, after a pointed declaration that bellow shaking was harder than it looks and that Mr. Contino pulls it off because he's Italian and has heart (at one point, I thought Mario might poke me in the chest), thoughts turned to vegetables again, and I was given more pickles, some basil, and a zucchini.

I had thoughts of taking my produce and going bowling after the festival, but I decided that going back to the hotel was the smarter decision. And, for once, I went with the smarter decision, though I did once again walk up the hill instead of taking a cab or bus.



It rained overnight and into the morning, so on Friday, I partook of the continental breakfast and then waited out the rain while I watched weather reports, "The Price Is Right," and "The View." The rain let up just around checkout time, so I took the free hotel shuttle down to Mader's, where I had some sauerbraten and chatted with Gary the bartender, a self-proclaimed survivalist who admitted (adding "and maybe I should be seeing a doctor about this") that when he's driving he looks at old buildings and envisions zombies coming out of them. He will, naturally, shoot the zombies. I'm not sure if it's because I was overtired or because I love the food at Mader's so much, but I think this was one of the more enjoyable conversations I've had in the last few years.

Before I left, I checked out the Mader's Wall of Fame, featuring some of the celebrities who have dined at the restaurant. President Ford's note of thanks was prominently displayed, but aside from T&R Hall of Famer John Candy's signed 8X10, I was most impressed with wrestler (and master of the Iron Claw) Baron Von Raschke's place on the wall.



Excellent pun, sir.

And I should also make note of Oliver Hardy's love of the pork shank.



After lunch, I walked down to the Milwaukee Public Market, which I had scoped out the day before. I left with a bottle of locally made black cherry cream soda (I'd had locally made root beer the day before, and it was better), chocolate-covered cranberries, some cookies, and a slice of German chocolate cake for the road (the latter two were from C. Adam's Bakery, which I highly recommend).

I then saw a sign for a t-shirt store in the Historic Third Ward, and since I had some time to kill before it was Contino Time again, I figured I'd check it out. The guy in charge, Fred, was awfully nice, and the shirts were cool, too. I opted for one with the old Milwaukee County Stadium beer slide on it, and after I told Fred why I was in Milwaukee, I was asked to pose for a photo. Support your local t-shirt makers, wherever you are.



The third Contino set was solid, too (I took several videos, but they're so shaky that there's either something wrong with my camera or I have Parkinson's), and afterward I braved the merch crowd to buy my second CD of the weekend, which I asked Mr. Contino to sign to me. He recognized me from the day before and thanked me again for bringing the records and coming so far to see him. He really did seem genuinely moved by my effort. So maybe I made the days a little brighter for him.

He definitely made them brighter for me. And kept me away from the crushing NYC heat for a few days (though the pilot said the temperature when we landed at LaGuardia at 10 p.m. was 93 degrees). So, thanks Mr. Contino. And the elderly Contino-heads of the Milwaukee/Chicago area. And Fred. And Gary the zombie-hunting bartender. And all of Milwaukee. I have yet to find a bad thing about the city.

See you soon. Please continue rolling out the barrel in my absence.

7.18.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 42

A balanced portrait
Of a musical legend
Who loved the ladies

Can't You Hear Me Callin': The Life of Bill Monroe, Father of Bluegrass by Richard D. Smith

7.17.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 41

A truly odd tale
Whose moral appears to be
Don't challenge yourself

Magic Time by W.P. Kinsella (223 pp.)

7.16.2011

The 50-A-Day Project: Books 31-40 (Halftime)

This batch started off rough, with a William Kennedy book that quickly relieved my guilt about having never read a William Kennedy book and a book about Hank Williams, Bocephus, and Hank III that I'd been looking forward to reading but soon realized would contain very little I didn't know (the book also seemed to have the fewest interviews of any biography I've ever read...I assume the author felt that lots of quotes from interviews with Hank III would be enough). So, that, coupled with some music festival trips and the general sluggishness summer brings to me (I know, I'm weird), made me worry that I wasn't going to make it to the halfway mark. But a couple of good books followed, and I was soon back on track.

After finishing the 40th book, I had tallied 12,096 pages in 185 days, for an average of 65.4 pages a day. Not too bad, and better than I'd thought I'd be at the beginning of the journey. Early on in the journey, I had thoughts about going for 100 books by year's end, but that seems unlikely now (unless I start reading really short books). Still, a final total of 75-80 books and 25,000 pages would be swell.

Onward!

Best Fiction Book: O Pioneers! by Willa Cather
Best Nonfiction Book: All Hopped Up and Ready to Go: Music from the Streets of New York 1927-77 by Tony Fletcher
Toughest Read: The Ink Truck by William Kennedy
Easiest Read: Family Tradition: Three Generations of Hank Williams by Susan Masino
Number of Books on Loan: 0
Number of Books Given as Gifts: 1 (All Hopped Up and Ready to Go: Music from the Streets of New York 1927-77 by Tony Fletcher). Thanks, Josh!
Number of Books Signed by the Author: 2 (All Hopped Up and Ready to Go: Music from the Streets of New York 1927-77 by Tony Fletcher, and I'll Never Get Out of This World Alive by Steve Earle )
Book That Was Sitting on the Shelf the Longest
: Sixties Going on Seventies by Nora Sayre. I'm reasonably confident I bought it at the Friends of the Library Book Sale in Ithaca, NY, probably in 1994 or 1995. Ms. Sayre visited my college during my freshman year, and my Intro to Journalism professor (Jill Dianne Swenson, a fine professor who frightened 75% of our class right out of the journalism major) set me up to interview her for a class assignment during her visit. I did some quick and dirty research in the Ithaca College library, which, in those days before the Internet took over, meant a lot of microfiche reading. I did as well as I could, I suppose, but I can't imagine it was a very good interview on my part (though I think I got a good grade on it). I do recall that Ms. Sayre was quite kind and didn't openly berate me for my greenness, which was nice of her. And so, over 15 years later (and nearly ten years after Ms. Sayre left this world), I finally got around to reading one of her books. It turns out she was quite a good writer, and a witness to a lot of interesting moments in the 1960s. Sure would have been nice to ask her more about that.

Best Paragraph:
"Americans have never known what war really is. No matter how much they saw it on television or pictures or magazines. Because there is one feature they never appreciated: the smell. When you go through a village and you suddenly get this horrible smell. Everybody's walking around with masks on their faces 'cause it's just intolerable. You look out and see those bloated bodies. You no longer see humans, because they've been pretty well cleaned up by now. You see bloated horses and cows and the smell of death. It's not discriminating, they all smell the same. Maybe if Americans had known even that, they'd be more concerned about peace."
Dr. Alex Shulman, from "The Good War": An Oral History of World War Two by Studs Terkel

Book Revku, Vol. 40

Mostly engaging
Frequently enlightening
Generally good

Da Capo Best Music Writing 2001: The Year's Finest Writing on Rock, Pop, Jazz, Country and More edited by Nick Hornby (319 pp.)

7.13.2011

Why My City Is Better Than Your City


Because on Sunday, a polka band (Joe Stanky and the Cadets) played five sets at a street fair a block from my apartment. Granted, the sets were getting shorter as the day went on (The last two may have been about 20 minutes each), but they still played from 2:30 to 9 p.m. with only a few short breaks.

Because that street fair featured food (stuffed cabbage, kielbasa, pierogies, and easily the best potato pancakes I have ever eaten--or likely will ever eat--in my life) made by the Polish ladies of St. Anthony's that was ridiculously good.

Because during the fourth set, when the sun finally started to go down, an old Polish woman practically took it upon herself to start the dance party by grabbing anyone who made eye contact with her (and some who didn't).

Because once that woman achieved success, there was the greatest multicultural polka throwdown I've ever seen, with Polish, Indian, Hispanic, white, and black people all getting on down.

And because during the third set, before the dance party broke out, one guy started his own private dance party, waltzing by himself, mamboing by himself, and, best of all, occasionally closing with Elvis karate moves. Unfortunately, he didn't bust out the Elvis moves when I filmed this (you can see him in the middle of one in the photo above, though), but he still busted some sweet moves (he even throws in some fist pumping). Please enjoy this look into my future. I hope.



I defy you to find a better dancer in your city. Send me the videos.

God bless Jersey City.

7.05.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 39

Though the land was flat
Life on the plains was rocky
For Swedes and the rest

O Pioneers! by Willa Cather (309 pp.)

7.04.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 38

I interviewed her
Without doing much research
Ready now; she's dead

Sixties Going on Seventies by Nora Sayre (410 pp.)

7.03.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 37

The old parks are gone
But a few are still standing
Like this hidden gem

Rickwood Field: A Century in America's Oldest Ballpark by Allen Barra (335 pp.)

7.02.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 36

The horrors of war
Told by those who lived through it
As Studs just listens

"The Good War": An Oral History of World War Two by Studs Terkel (591 pp.)

7.01.2011

What I Liked About June


*Mountain Jam, Hunter, NY
*Amy LaVere, Googie's Lounge/Amanda Shires, Living Room, NYC
*Return to Sweet Sue's, Phoenicia, NY
*The Bangles (and the Ellises), Celebrate Fairfax, Fairfax, VA

*Return to Vince-Anna's, Greenville, NY
*Black Joe Lewis and the Honeybears/Those Darlins, Madison Square Park, NYC
*Mavis Staples and the Levon Helm Band, Levon Helm Studios, Woodstock, NY
*Seeing Garth Hudson at Woodstock Meats

*The potatoes at Market Lunch, Washington, DC
*The New NRBQ, Maxwell's, Hoboken, NJ
*Eddie Floyd, Steve Cropper, Duck Dunn, Lester Snell, and Anton Fig, Highline Ballroom, NYC
*The willingness of people with cars to drive me places

6.27.2011

Soundtracks I Have Loved: Back to the Beach



Soundtrack: Back to the Beach
Year Released: 1987
I Bought It On: Cassette, then vinyl
How Does It Hold Up?: Still my favorite soundtrack of all time

SIDE ONE
1. Catch a Ride--Eddie Money
2. Pipeline--Stevie Ray Vaughan & Dick Dale
3. Sign of Love--Aimee Mann
4. Absolute Perfection--Private Domain (special appearance by Pato Banton)
5. Surfin' Bird--Pee-wee Herman
SIDE TWO
6. Sun, Sun, Sun, Sun, Sun--Marti Jones
7. Jamaica Ska--Annette Funicello & Fishbone
8. Wipe Out--Herbie Hancock (special appearances by Dweezil Zappa and Terry Bozzio)
9. California Sun--Frankie Avalon
10. Wooly Bully--Dave Edmunds

These were many reasons fighting hard against me wanting to see Back to the Beach in the summer of 1987. I was not--and am not--a beach person, likely because of the sunburn I got on my feet at the Jersey Shore when I was a wee lad. Also, I had never seen—or had any desire to see—one of the Frankie and Annette beach movies, and I'm pretty sure I didn't even know who Frankie Avalon was (though Skippy was my peanut butter of choice--I had a peanut butter sandwich for lunch roughly 99% of my eight years in grammar school...I was not a very adventurous eater--so I was fond of Annette.

But there were only so many things you could do when you were 10 years old and living on Staten Island in the summer of 1987. And that short list of fun was topped by the UA movie theater in Travis, which opened to much fanfare in 1987 (I think...feel free to correct me Staten Island cinema historians) as the island’s first significant multiplex (there were a few theaters with multiple screens but none with the double-digit count of the UA). Before the UA, we would have to go all the way to the Amboy Multiplex Cinemas in Sayreville, NJ, which was fine, because that meant we would go to Razzmatazz, too. There was no Razz-Ma-Tazz near the UA in Travis, just the Fresh Kills landfill, which was within close smelling distance, as was also the case with the other Great Beacon of Fun, the Staten Island Mall.

The opening of the UA theater, which was also the first movie theater that was really close to “our side” of the island, ushered in the brief period of my life where movies were an important part of my life (I have probably seen as many movies in the theater in the last two decades as I saw from 1987–1990). And there wasn’t a whole lot of discrimination in my theatrical choices. The basic formula was if it’s a comedy and it’s not rated R, well, sure, I’ll go see it.

And, so, this is how I wound up at the UA theater in the summer of 1987 (I think with Donnie Daszkowski) asking the ticket seller for one to Back to the Beach.

As a testament to how little there was to do on a Friday night on Staten Island in 1987, the screening was nearly sold out. We were told the only seats were in the first few rows, so maybe we’d want to go see another movie. Whether it was a lack of viable options or just a dogged determination to see five minutes of Pee-wee Herman (a possible selling point, though I was never a rabid Pee-wee fan) I do not recall, but we decided to persevere and wound up watching Back to the Beach from, I think, the second row.

I still do not regret that decision. I liked the movie (it's so ridiculously over the top and kitschy that I'm surprised there isn't a statue dedicated to it in Williamsburg). And I loved the soundtrack. Make that love the soundtrack. In fact, it might be my favorite soundtrack of all time. Let me tell you about it.

It starts off on such a gloriously incongruous note that it simply can't miss. In his boldest feat since suggesting that paradise somehow involved being in close quarters with him, Eddie Money beckons the listener to join him for some surfing. Because there is no person who better personifies surfing than the pasty, slightly haggard Mr. Money. Whatever. It works.



Then comes a truly glorious moment in the history of soundtracks: a cover of "Pipeline" by Dick Dale and Stevie Ray Vaughan. Again, Stevie Ray's not exactly the poster boy for sun and fun, but getting him and the King of the Surf Guitar together is a legitimate coup for the soundtrack. I hope whoever came up with this idea was handsomely rewarded. And whoever styled Dick Dale's hair deserves similar props. And partial blame for the hole in the ozone layer.



The soundtrack continues the theme of showcasing the talents of those who probably don't tan very well by including another in the long line of aurally pleasing Aimee Mann songs, "Sign of Love." Criminally, there is no record of this on YouTube, so you will have to take my word for it. Or come over to my place for a Back to the Beach party. You can have your choice of hearing the song on cassette or vinyl. And I'll hang up my Back to the Beach poster for the occasion.

I'm not sure I feel comfortable saying there's a bad track on the album, but Private Domain's "Absolute Perfection" is the closest thing to a weak link (and now that I see what they look like, I'm a little more comfortable). But any bad vibes are quickly erased by another moment of soundtrack genius: Pee-wee Herman's cover of "Surfin' Bird," which I once owned the 45 of. Alas, I stepped on it in my messy room and broke it. I've never really forgiven myself. But getting Pee Wee to sign the soundtrack softened the blow a bit.



Side Two starts off slowly with Marti Jones's catchy if not entirely memorable "Sun, Sun, Sun, Sun, Sun" (another no-YouTube cut) but then amps up the bizarre quotient of Side One by finally bringing together Annette Funicello and Fishbone. Yes, that's right. This was probably my favorite track in my youth, and I still have a hard time not singing it for hours after hearing it (and if you prefer your Jamaica ska with a little less kitsch, try this).



And there's another slightly less bizarre (and not quite as successful to my ears) collaboration next, this one between Dweezil Zappa, Terry Bozzio, and Herbie Hancock on "Wipe Out." It's perfectly acceptable, but as far as "Wipe Out" covers go, there's the Fat Boys and Beach Boys' cover and then there's everybody else. But, good try, fellas.



"California Sun" is one of my all-time favorite songs, and I remember playing the original (on a cassette I bought at either Jamesway or Ames) and the Frankie Avalon cover here an awful lot, despite the fact that I didn't actually see the California sun until I was in my 30s. But as soon as I booked that flight, that became the song in my head for several months. The Frankie Avalon cover gets bonus points for giving Dick Dale more work on the soundtrack. And more hair time.



YouTube, which apparently hates Back to the Beach, does not have a clip of Dave Edmunds' "Wooly Bully" cover, but if you know the song and you know Dave Edmunds, you probably know it's plenty good without having to hear it. I am a little disappointed that he wasn't given a collaborator on the track, though. I think one of the many people who did cameos in the movie (Don Adams, Bob Denver, Alan Hale Jr., Tony Dow, Barbara Billingsley, and Jerry Mathers) would have been good choices, but it's easy to say so in hindsight.

There are two songs in the movie that inexplicably don't make it to the soundtrack. Well, maybe the first one's explicable. Without the visual component of Lori Loughlin, "Pajama Party" is something I'd be comfortable never hearing again. But there's no good reason (other than thinking that the song is so cloying that it should be kept far, far away from the soundtrack) why the album couldn't end with "Some Things Live Forever."



But I'm willing to forgive this oversight, because even without the tune, this is still my favorite soundtrack of all time (Cocktail and La Bamba are [guitar]neck and [bottle]neck for #2)). And I might never have bought it if I hadn't made that decision to go out on opening night and see it from the second row, probably because I had nothing better to do. Thanks, Staten Island. You raised me well.

6.18.2011

Soundtracks I Have Loved: Pulp Fiction



Soundtrack: Pulp Fiction
Year Released: 1994
I Bought It On: CD
How Does It Hold Up?: Well

1. Pumpkin and Honey Bunny (dialogue)/Misirlou - Dick Dale & His Del-Tones
2. Royale With Cheese (dialogue) - John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson
3. Jungle Boogie - Kool & The Gang
4. Let's Stay Together - Al Green
5. Bustin' Surfboards - The Tornadoes
6. Lonesome Town - Ricky Nelson
7. Son Of A Preacher Man - Dusty Springfield
8. Zed's Dead, Baby (dialogue)/Bullwinkle Part II - The Centurians
9. Jack Rabbit Slim's Twist Contest (dialogue)/You Never Can Tell - Chuck Berry
10. Girl, You'll Be A Woman Soon - Urge Overkill
11. If Love Is A Red Dress (Hang Me In Rags) - Maria McKee
12. Bring Out the Gimp (dialogue)/Comanche - The Revels
13. Flowers On The Wall - The Statler Brothers
14. Personality Goes A Long Way (dialogue) - John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson
15. Surf Rider - The Lively Ones
16. Ezekiel 25:17 (dialogue) - Samuel L. Jackson

As the immensely popular Soundtracks I Have Loved series comes to a close (take the rags away from your face...there are still two more after this one), I have occasionally found myself rifling through the Saved by the Bell trivia cluttering my brain to make sure I haven't forgotten anything. In doing so, I have recalled Soundtracks I Have Liked A Lot (Great Balls of Fire), Soundtracks I Have Liked Just Fine (A League of Their Own, Philadelphia, Honeymoon in Vegas), and Soundtracks On Which I Love Maybe One or Two Songs So I Bought Them Long After the Movie Was Released (to be visited in a future post).

But while making the transition from a CD rack (and random piles of CDs on my floor) to large, portable CD cases, I came across the soundtrack to Pulp Fiction, which reminds me an awful lot of my time at Ithaca College. And one unfortunate incident in Ithaca that occurred after my graduation.

I first saw Pulp Fiction in what I think was my only trip to the Ithaca College Student Activities Board weekend movies in Textor Hall. So I guess that would place it sometime in 1995, since the Textor movies were ones that had been out of the theater for awhile but were still relatively new (or The Rocky Horror Picture Show, which I have deftly avoided for my entire three-plus decades on Earth). And if it was the spring semester of 1995, I almost certainly attended alone, as that first year of college was not a very social one for me. The other three weren't exactly a giant party, either, but freshman year was a particularly antisocial affair. The upside of that was I spent a lot of nights discovering blues music other than The Blues Brothers at The Haunt downtown, so the year wasn't a total loss.

Anyway, enough about my social awkwardness (the name of my next blog) and back to the movie. I liked it, and I liked the music in it quite a bit, too. So, soon the soundtrack was purchased.

I think I was already into Dick Dale before I saw Pulp Fiction, though I'm not sure how (maybe through another movie soundtrack we will talk about soon), but I became a little obsessive after listening to "Misirlou." And it's one of the best soundtrack starters that I can think of. Good start to the movie, too.



I can generally do without soundtracks that include dialogue from the movie, but music is such an integral part of the movie that it makes sense on the Pulp Fiction soundtrack. Unfortunately, I forgot about the dialogue when I decided to play "Misirlou" on the jukebox at Ithaca's Bowl-O-Drome a few years ago. And, because I'm me, I wasn't there on a crowded night where no one's paying much attention to the music anyway. No, I was there in the afternoon. Bowling by myself. While a children's birthday party was under way. So, as soon as I heard Tim Roth's voice, I wanted to run out of the bowling alley. But I didn't. The guy at the front desk lowered the volume just about when Amanda Plummer said "pricks." But it was still loud enough. Sorry, impressionable young minds of Ithaca.

Of course, "Misirlou" isn't the only great song on the soundtrack, or the only great instrumental for that matter. Of the other instrumentals, "Bustin' Surfboards," "Bullwinkle Part II," and "Surf Rider" are fine, but "Comanche" takes the second-place prize.



As for the non-instrumentals, there are a bunch of gems, all of them better than the soundtrack's hit and only new track, "Girl, You'll Be A Woman Soon,", which isn't really a knock on that song, just the truth. I mean, unless someone does a particularly awesome version of "Porcupine Pie," a Neil Diamond cover will never be cooler than "Jungle Boogie," by Jersey City's own Kool & the Gang.



And you can't go wrong with Chuck Berry (unless you hire a crappy band to back him up, he doesn't get into the show, and you're left depressed as he stumbles through "Johnny B. Goode"...still can't shake the memory of that show).



"Let's Stay Together" and "Son of a Preacher Man" are similarly can't-miss additions to any soundtrack, and though I can do without "Lonesome Town" and I never really warmed up to "If Love Is a Red Dress (Hang Me in Rags)," they have their charms, too.

Easily the most pleasant surprise was courtesy of The Statler Brothers, whom I had previously dismissed as one of the worst things ever because my dad always watched them on The Nashville Network Saturday night, which meant I had no shot of watching anything I wanted to see on TV that night. Granted, aside from bowling and wrestling (which I liked too, so it was cool), this was pretty much the only hour of appointment TV my dad had all week (though if he happened upon a M*A*S*H or Hogan's Heroes rerun, good luck getting the remote control away from him). But that didn't make me any less angry. I was a bit of a snot at times.

So, when I saw the cursed Statler Brothers on the Pulp Fiction soundtrack, I was not pleased. Until I listened to the song.



"Playing solitaire 'til dawn/With a deck of 51?" How great a line is that? Who knew they sang cool songs? And here I thought they were all '80s sweaters and cornball patter. Sorry, Dad. You were right. Again. And, hey, why not check out more good Statlers songs here, here, here, and here. My dad would want you to.

And so ends another SIHL installment. The next one, our final full-album soundtrack piece, will be a marked contrast to Pulp Fiction. But I think it might be my all-time favorite soundtrack.

You're excited. I can tell.

6.12.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 35

Broken hearts, crushed dreams
And lives ruined or no more
Look what love can do

Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin (224 pp.)

6.11.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 34

The beat of New York
Over half a century
Deftly chronicled

All Hopped Up and Ready to Go: Music From the Streets of New York, 1927-77 by Tony Fletcher (411 pp.)

6.10.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 33

His songs are better
But he tells a good tale here
As you'd think he would

I'll Never Get Out of This World Alive by Steve Earle (243 pp.)

6.09.2011

Book Revku, Vol. 32

If you don't know Hank(s)
This book might enlighten you
I was kinda bored

Family Tradition: Three Generations of Hank Williams by Susan Masino (228 pp.)

Book Revku, Vol. 31

Sometimes a book soars
And sometimes it just fizzles
This was the latter

The Ink Truck by William Kennedy (278 pp.)

6.07.2011

15 Years Ago Today

On June 7, 1996, Young James Sigman took the ferry into Manhattan with the intention of getting a musician he didn't know all that well to sign a CD outside The Bottom Line. But in the process of doing so, he wound up having an experience that probably did more to shape the music he listens to than any other event before or since.

Old James Sigman wrote about this a few years ago, but since today's the 15th anniversary of that day (and we're just a few weeks away from a tribute to the Bottom Line at Rockefeller Park, it seemed like a good idea to revisit that fateful day. So, let's revisit the original post, OK?

And, hey, thanks Todd and Mike Snider for making my life better.

It was the summer of 1996. I was home after a sophomore year of college that worked out better than freshman year and had me thinking college might end up being OK. I still wasn't entirely comfortable, but I was getting there. Slowly, but getting there.

Although many now think of me as some righteous music guru, the truth is that music didn't really mean all that much to me when I was growing up. Sure, I clung to the Billy Joel tapes that were issued to every Catholic Schoolboy on Staten Island. And I had a decent collection of 45s and cassettes, though mostly of songs like Pee Wee Herman's "Surfin' Bird" and The Fat Boys' version of "Wipeout" and soundtracks to movies like "The Great Outdoors" and "UHF." Now, don't get me wrong--those are all fine works, but they're not exactly, y'know, weighty or whatever. The weightiest I got were Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, and Roy Orbison, the latter of whom I started listening to at an age at which no boy should be listening to Roy Orbison. But I digress.

Anyway, after two years of college and being exposed to different kinds of music, I started to look for what else was out there, musically speaking and otherwise (perhaps mainly to drown out the Rusted Root that played incessantly from the room next door...send me on my way, indeed). And that eventually brought me to country music, and its neglected, socially inept offspring, alternative country. It was about 1996 when I first heard of people like Steve Earle and Joe Ely, who were alternative country before such a term existed. Or at least it was the first time I actually paid attention to them. And that I learned that it's pronounced "EE-lee" not "e-LIE."

It was around that time that Joe Ely covered Buddy Holly's "Oh Boy" for a tribute record. He recorded the song with a guy called Todd Snider, whom I had seen once on the TV show "Austin City Limits" and was pretty impressed by. In fact, I almost reviewed his CD, "Step Right Up," for the college newspaper, but I went with B-52's lead singer Fred Schneider's CD "Just Fred," because I figured it would be easier to make cheap jokes about it. And I was right.

I did finally get around to buying "Step Right Up" in that summer of 1996 when I saw that Todd Snider (and his band, The Nervous Wrecks) would be opening for Rory Block at The Bottom Line in NYC. I was but a lad of 19 at the time, so I couldn't go to the show at the over-21 club, but I figured I could maybe get the CD signed outside the club after soundcheck. So with very little knowledge of what Todd Snider even looked like, I headed down to the club.

I was standing outside for awhile, holding the CD, when a guy came up to me and asked, "Are you looking for Todd?" I told him I was, and he said, "Well, that's him right there." He brought me over, and I asked Todd to sign my CD. He asked if I'd be coming to the show, and I explained the situation, saying that I wasn't 21 and adding, "and I'm not cool enough to have a fake ID" (what a slick kid I was). Then, Todd and his brother, Mike (who was the guy who had asked me if I was looking for Todd) put their heads together, and Mike just said, "Well, come back at around 5:30 and we'll sneak you in. Just pretend you're with the crew." I think I managed to stammer, "Um, OK" and then I went to get something to eat at Wendy's. And to buy another Todd Snider CD.

I came back at 5:30, looked for Mike, and he directed me to another member of the crew, who just told me to follow him and look like I belong. So I did. And a minute later, I was sitting in a tiny dressing room at The Bottom Line, talking to Mike Snider about that Buddy Holly tribute record and how I had heard about Todd. Now, at the time, I hadn't even really listened to a Todd CD (I bought "Step Right Up" that day), except for a few snippets on a Tower Records listening station. So I didn't really have much to say. I just mentioned seeing him on "Austin City Limits" and that was really all I had to go on. But Mike, and everybody else in the band and crew, were all real nice to me anyway. I ate their fruit, watched the drummer (Joe McLeary) shave, and offered to help, but was told to just relax. Mike was even apologetic about not being able to get me a beer, but then decided it would be OK if I really wanted one (I didn't, naturally).

A few minutes before showtime, Mike told me to go find a seat for the show out front. And about 15 minutes after I sat down, I saw what, at the time, was easily the greatest thing I'd ever seen. It was loud, it was fast, and it was rock and great-God-almighty-I-am-free-at-last roll. I recognized some of the songs from "Austin City Limits," including "Side Show Blues," which I had decided was my favorite when Mike asked me before the show. And there were others that I loved, like "Alright Guy" and "I Like Country When It Rocks" (and at that point, I was pretty sure I did, too). The show was over way too soon (it was probably about 40 minutes) and after Rory Block's dull headlining set, I wondered why Todd wasn't headlining. And that wasn't the first time I'd wonder if a concert's order of performance should have been reversed.

After the show, I wanted to just say goodbye and thanks to Mike and Todd, so I saw one of the guys in the crew, Kevin Shackleford, and told him how what I saw completely knocked me out. He told me, "Really? Well that was Todd on only, like, 7. You oughta see him when he gets to 10." Then he asked me if I was staying for the second show, which I hadn't even thought about. Well, yes, I guess I will.

So I did, and the second set was as good as the first (though still, in retrospect, not Todd on 10). After the second show, I went backstage (with the help of another good guy on Todd's crew, Shamus Bacon) to thank Mike and Todd and promise them that I'd do everything I could to get people to listen to Todd Snider.

And I'm still trying.

6.01.2011

Of Geese and Men



A few weeks ago, as I was walking to work, I saw a family of geese--two adults and two tiny goslings--crossing the street in Newport. Unfortunately, this was the one day I didn't have my camera on me. If I hadn't been about 20 minutes from my apartment at the time, and if geese were able to heed the command, "Don't move for 40 minutes," I would have gladly called in to work just so I could get the picture. But I seemed to be the only working drone who felt this way, as everybody else just kept walking, barely even noting the scene placed before them on a clear Friday morning. Meanwhile, I stared and smiled for a little bit and then begrudgingly continued on my way.

Then, on my walk home, I saw the geese again, though not in such a photogenic manner, and decided there was no good reason not to wake up at 6:30 Saturday morning so I could stalk the geese with my camera before I got on the early-morning bus to Woodstock (via Kingston) for Levon Helm's Birthday Ramble. There was, of course, no guarantee they'd still be around, but I figured it was worth a shot.

As soon as I made my way into Prime Goose Territory, I looked to my right and saw what I assumed was the same family of four out for an early-morning stroll. The adults were walking outside of a fenced-in area, keeping an eye on the two babies walking on the other side of the fence. So I gave them some room, stood in the middle of the street, and began the photo shoot.






Satisfied that I had made up for the previous day, I set out for the Hoboken train station. Until I saw some more goslings, even tinier and cuter, and in a more goose-paparazzo-accessible area. Out came the camera again.





Best Saturday morning ever.

But, wait, look, there's another family behind that other fence. There's officially a goose population explosion in Newport.





By the time I was shooting the third family, I finally got one dude to stop and enjoy the moment for a few seconds. It felt like a victory.

Now, whenever I walk to and from work (and carefully wind my way around the many goose droppings), I look for the little tykes to see how they're doing. Some days I'll see one or two around, and other days, the bad ones, I don't see them anywhere. I admit--I get a little worried that they're OK. Granted, they will likely grow up one day to fly into a plane I'm on and send me to a watery grave, but, for now, I'm quite fond of them.

So, last Friday, when I cut through the Modell's parking lot, I could not have been happier to see this:





These are happy, exciting times in Jersey City. At least for me. And the geese seem pretty content. I suppose everybody else will follow along soon enough.

What I Liked About May

*The baby geese of Newport
*Levon Helm's Birthday Ramble, Woodstock, NY
*A successful night of Broadway autograph collecting (Eve Plumb, Becky Ann Baker, and Christie Brinkley)
*Two Cow Garage, Union Hall, Brooklyn, NY


*Maybe Pete, Curmudgeon Records (RIP), Somerville, NJ
*Ben Sollee/Sean Rowe, Rockwood Music Hall, NYC
*Sarah Jarosz, Rockwood Music Hall, NYC
*Nick's, Queens, NY

*Getting a photo with Matt "Guitar" Murphy
*The long-awaited reopening of Sweet Sue's
*The pulled pork sandwich at Home by the Range, Hoboken, NJ
*The willingness of people with cars to drive me places