Loquacious Music

I spent some time at Barnes and Noble today because my new school is having a “Book Fair” there. Basically, teachers all submit a wish list, and their items are placed on a bookshelf near the front. If a parent or a family wants to buy things for you (either for personal or in-class use), they just take the item to the counter. Also, 20% of any store-wide purchase goes back to the school. It’s nice.

Anyway, one of my purchases — finally! — was the two-DVD set of Brian Wilson’s “Smile.” I’ve been wanting this for awhile now, but I’ve passed it by every time.

The first disc is a two-hour documentary about the aborted attempt to make the original “Smile” back in the 1960s. (It’s a fascinating documentary; it ends with the groundbreaking 2004 performance.) I was most interested to learn that the project de-railed when Mike Love heard three of Van Dyke Parks’s lyrics for my favorite Brian Wilson song, “Surf’s Up.” Love couldn’t understand those lyrics — “columnated ruins domino” — and Parks wouldn’t explain them. As the rest of the Beach Boys rebelled against the project, and as Parks et al. abandoned it, Wilson sunk deeper into depression and to his eventual nervous breakdown. (He’s still not recovered — just watch the documentary. He hears voices and everything. It’s incredible.)

But I was really interested in the fact that Love hated my favorite Brian Wilson lyric of all time. He couldn’t understand that it, like much of the “Smile” project, wasn’t supposed to make sense. It was just supposed to BE.

Here are the lyrics to “Surf’s Up.” It’s a perfect song. (Go onto iTunes or eMusic or whatever to download the whole “Smile” album if you don’t already have it.)

I’ve never heard a song like it, I never will, and the thing was written in 1967!

A diamond necklace played the pawn
Hand in hand some drummed along, oh
To a handsome man and baton
A blind class aristocracy
Back through the opera glass you see
The pit and the pendulum drawn
Columnated ruins domino

Canvass the town and brush the backdrop
Are you sleeping?

Hung velvet overtaken me
Dim chandelier awaken me
To a song dissolved in the dawn
The music hall a costly bow
The music all is lost for now
To a muted trumpeter swan
Columnated ruins domino

Canvass the town and brush the backdrop
Are you sleeping, Brother John?

Dove nested towers the hour was
Strike the street quicksilver moon
Carriage across the fog
Two-step to lamp lights cellar tune
The laughs come hard in Auld Lang Syne

The glass was raised, the fired rose
The fullness of the wine, the dim last toasting
While at port adieu or die

A choke of grief heart hardened I
Beyond belief a broken man too tough to cry

Surf’s up
Aboard a tidal wave
Come about hard and join
The young and often spring you gave
I heard the word
Wonderful thing
A children’s song…

I’ve been getting some really strange wrong number phone calls over the past few days.

Last weekend, this call came to my cellphone. Apparently, I’m being hunted by the Danielson, Connecticut mafia.

And then, tonight, I got this call on my home phone.  That one came from the Rastafarians, obviously.

WTF? Who are these people, and whose numbers are they transposing?

Any ideas?

I’m going to try to watch 50 movies over the next month and catalog them under the “Movies” heading in the menubar up top.

What prompted this, you may ask?  Here’s what.  (Now I can watch all my old DVDs in beautiful, fake high definition!)

The latest from the “Live from the iSight Studio” series:

One of the fun things about Thanksgiving is that I get to drive to New Jersey. Yeah, New Jersey! Unfortunately, because I’m usually toting an O.A.P. along with me, I can’t listen to “my music.”

Fortunately, though, I do get a respite when driving to and from the Glaser’s house for our now-yearly jam session. On that drive last night, I heard two fantastic songs on XM that you must download immediately.

One of them is called “Flowers,” by Gregg Alexander; it contains what is turning out to be my favorite bridge ever:

I love you, you hate me
I took math class, that ain’t a fair exchange
I call you, you hang up
Don’t have to be a bitch and get your number changed!
I’m sorry, forgive me
I never meant to call you those names
But I’m lonely…so lonely…please

This is, of course, set to a tune and melody that would make Ray Davies proud.

The next song is the first cut off The Replacements’ “Don’t Tell a Soul.” This one is called “Talent Show”:

Well we got our guitars and we got thumb picks
And we go on after some lip-synch chicks
We’re feelin’ good from the pills we took
Oh, baby, don’t gimme that look

We ain’t much to look at so
Close your eyes, here we go
We’re playin’ at the talent show
Playin’ at the talent show
Come on along, here we go
Playin’ at the talent show
Hop a ride, here we go
Playin’ at the talent show

When people tell you there’s nothing good to listen to out there, just tell them that they’re not looking backwards hard enough.

(X-posted on Facebook.)

Sully’s got a contest going on. This video got my vote:

It was tough, between this and Lionel Ritchie’s “Hello.” Of course, the worst song of the 1980s is, without question:

Do I think that Grace Slick is hot?  Not as hot as Bonnie Pointer, maybe, but hot nonetheless.

Christmas creep, the act of putting Christmas lights and displays up far in advance of December 25th, is now officially out of control. There is, however, a silver lining to this raincloud: Christmas creep allows me to start enjoying “Fairytale of New York” a good month and a half early.

This is the best Christmas song out there. It’s also the best Pogues song, which means that it’s the best modern Irish song, which means that it kicks the crap out of “I’m Shipping Off to Boston.” Yeah, I said it. Let’s fight.

I cry every time I hear this song. I’ve heard this song hundreds of times, and I still cry. Every. Damn. Time.

We miss you, Kirsty.

It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me “Won’t see another one…”
And then he sang a song
The Rare Old Mountain Dew
I turned my face away
And dreamed about you

Got on a lucky one
Came in eighteen to one
I’ve got a feeling
This year’s for me and you
So happy Christmas
I love you baby
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true

They’ve got cars big as bars
They’ve got rivers of gold
But the wind goes right through you
It’s no place for the old
When you first took my hand
On a cold Christmas Eve
You promised me
Broadway was waiting for me

You were handsome
You were pretty
Queen of New York City
When the band finished playing
They howled out for more
Sinatra was swinging,
All the drunks they were singing
We kissed on a corner
Then danced through the night

The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing “Galway Bay”
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas day

You’re a bum
You’re a punk
You’re an old slut on junk
Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed
You scumbag, you maggot
You cheap lousy faggot
Happy Christmas, your arse
I pray God it’s our last

The boys of the NYPD choir
Still singing “Galway Bay”
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas day

I could have been someone
Well, so could anyone
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you

I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can’t make it all alone
I’ve built my dreams around you…

The boys of the NYPD choir
Still singing “Galway Bay”
And the bells are ringing out
For Christmas day…

This is where I’ll be, in a tux, tomorrow night:

American Indian College Fund Gala to Raise Money for Student Scholarships

    DENVER, Oct. 16 /PRNewswire-USNewswire/ -- The 12th annual 2007
American Indian College Fund (the Fund) Flame of Hope Gala will be held at
the United Nations Delegates Dining Room in New York City Thursday,
November 8. The event celebrates the success of tribal colleges, raises
funds for more than 5,000 scholarships, and honors its supporters. This
year's gala will highlight Indian students, professors, and the Fund's
supporters working as stewards of the environment.

    A special evening of entertainment is planned. The Bacon Brothers,
featuring acclaimed actor Kevin Bacon on vocals, guitar, harmonica, and
percussion, will headline the event. The band was formed eight years ago
when the brothers received an invitation to play in a club in their
hometown of Philadelphia. They have since sold out gigs in New York, LA,
Nashville, Chicago and San Francisco.

    The Redhawk Dance Troupe, comprised of Native performing artists who
interpret social, traditional, and contemporary dances, will perform. They
have performed at the 1994 and 1999 New York Woodstock festivals, the
Apollo Theatre, the Dance Theater of Harlem, "Good Day New York" on Fox
Network, "Regis & Kathy Lee," and for the Chinese Delegate and the
President of the United States.

    Dr. Daniel Wildcat, author of the newly released book Red Alert! Saving
the Planet with Indigenous Knowledge will also make a special appearance.
Wildcat is a Yuchi member of the Muscogee Nation of Oklahoma, former Fund
scholarship recipient, co-director of the Haskell Environmental Research
Studies Center, and American Indian Studies faculty at Haskell Indian
Nations University.

    Honorees at this year's event include The New York Times advertising
department, Toyota, and volunteer Judi Gott.

    This year's event sponsors include USAFunds, The Coca-Cola Foundation,
Toyota, Hilton Hotels, Ford Motor Company, Gabelli Asset Management,
Nissan, The UPS Foundation, Allstate, Richard Black, College Board, William
Peskoff, Seneca Gaming Corporation, Wal-Mart, UBS Financial Services,
Oneida Nation Foundation, IBM, Milberg Weiss, Kimberly S. Blanchard, Barona
Band of Mission Indians, The Tierney Family Foundation, and GMAC.

    For more information about the event or sponsorship opportunities,
contact Lucia Novara at lnovara@collegefund.org or 303-430-5323.

I recorded a live version of “I Feel For You” for tonight’s “Live from the iSight Studio” episode, but I wasn’t happy with it.  I’ll re-record it this weekend.  Sorry!

Many of you have expressed no interest whatsoever in hearing more about the band I’m now playing in. With that in mind, I thought I’d share. Suck it, Tribek.

As you all know, I moved down here to southern Connecticut to escape the stifling, soul-sucking, anxiety-producing boarding school life. One of the perks of teaching at a day school, I was told, was that I’d actually get to have a life and hang out with real friends in real places while being able to come back to my real condo at night. This is important.

Over the past six years, some of my fondest memories involved playing music. Whether that meant playing drums with the Paul Smith Trio, playing bass and guitar at the Prism Concert, or noodling around on keys and drums for Brian and Pat’s band, I am happiest while playing. The songs don’t matter; the instrument doesn’t matter. Just getting out there and making noise makes me happy.

So imagine my surprise when the dad of one of the kids I’m tutoring this year came up to me during parent/teacher conferences on Thursday and asked if I’d like to bring my bass guitar to band practice. He’s played with a few bands, both here in Fairfield County and in NYC, over the past ten years, and his local band lost their bassist recently.

Last night, I went to the lead guitarist’s house. We played for two hours. Most of that time was spent messing through songs and figuring out if we gelled. I think we did. At one point, Frank, the drummer, mentioned a version of the song “Boom Boom Boom” that appeared on Big Head Todd’s “Beautiful World” album.

“I think I have that CD in the car,” I said.

“So do I,” he replied.

What will we be playing? Well, with a female vocalist, our options are quite intriguing. We’ll be working on some songs with male vocals (Clapton, Zappa, SRV, etc.) as well as some songs sung by the ladies (Aretha, Janis, Pretenders, Sheryl Crow). I’ve submitted a list of six songs I’d like us to learn (”Brilliant Disguise,” “1979,” and some others), but for now, I’m content to do whatever I’m told.

I’ll post the dates of our performances here and on Facebook. My understanding is that we’ll do most of our work with this band here in the SoCT area (Westport, Norwalk, etc). You’re all invited to come listen and to crash at my place after, of course. Frank is also trying to get me to agree to play bass and keyboards with the band in NYC. That would require quite a bit more of a time commitment on my part, so, for now, I think I’m happy with the current arrangement.

I’m in a band, baby. I’m in a band.