I still feel a bit remiss about not having written more about Christmas music this year, as this is one holiday to which music -- and particularly pop music! -- is closely tied.
However, time marches on and, as is always the case in my life, I have to swoop directly from Christmas-thoughts to birthday-thoughts. My birthday is today. December 26. And it always has been!
Last year on this date I posted a Morrissey song, and my half-baked thoughts about the nature of aging (as seen through the lens of my continuing interest/obsession in modern monarchies).
Incidentally that Morrissey song, "That's How People Grow Up", is an amazing song and also holds the personal distinction of being the very first song I ever played on air at WCBN. Not unintentionally.
I think it would be a fun tradition to, as long as I have this blog, do the Morrissey thing on my birthday. Not least because a birthday should be a day of self-indulgence (in this case intellectually AND aesthetically, whee hee) but also because it should also be a day of self-honesty. And when I am truly being honest with myself, I see that my Morrissey "thing", my "thing" about Morrissey, is pretty revealing.
I have now been 26 for approximately 26 minutes. I can already sense it will be an interesting age. Old enough to know how young I actually am, and young enough to worry that I am getting old. But one thing I am (thankfully) realizing as I get older, at the rate of approximately one day per day, is that once you've been through enough environments and iterations as a person you start to get a sense of what about you is the environment and what about you is you.
When I was a twenty-year-old creative writing major, it made sense for me to love Morrissey -- albeit, even then, in a somewhat self-consciously nostalgic, wet-behind-the-ears sort of way. (It was, after all, not that long ago objectively speaking.) But it was always me who loved him, and that knowledge is the kind of thing I now think is precious. Which knowledge? That this, is just, who I am.
If you know anything about Morrissey you know that this is maybe his chief quality: being exactly who he is, this being a melodramatic individual who teeters between pitiable and completely insufferable. But also! Also, well-read. Great with wordplay. With a totally unique voice. A presence. Some pretty snazzy dance moves. And -- and THIS is the kicker -- an actual sense of humor about himself.
I just love him, and love can forgive so many things. I don't mean any of this to say that now that I have reached the venerable age of 26 that I've decided to indulge all my flaws henceforth in service of Being Myself. That idea is pretty horrifying to me. What I do mean to say however, is that in the grand slalom race that is life, it is an excellent feeling to know at least what shape my skis are.
Why pamper life's complexities when the leather runs smooth on the passenger seat?
The song: The Smiths, "This Charming Man"; 1983
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Who Have I Become: Growing Up
Hello!
It has been a long since I have written to you, which I could explain but the explanation doesn't matter.
What matters is that over the past few weeks, I have had much cause to feel that a) I may be having a quarter-life crisis and b) I am experiencing a lot of personal growth. As anyone who has been through a personal growth spurt will know, it is often unpleasant and often makes one sort of an unpleasant person. Like the teething of the soul.
I don't think I'm fully teethed at this moment, and maybe won't be for a long time. But I do feel a lot better than I did at this time last week.
As always, music is a valuable tool for this sort of thing and the music I've been focusing on is the extremely recent EP Fade Away by Best Coast. If you asked me to sum up the moment of mid-twenties uncertainty in which I currently find myself, the instability and the low-level angst and the problems that I objectively know are not THAT bad but that feel bad, I'd say, "listen to this."
The song: Best Coast, "Who Have I Become?"; 2013
Because when I listen to it, I realize that this is just a passing moment, and I can see the beauty in that.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
It has been a long since I have written to you, which I could explain but the explanation doesn't matter.
What matters is that over the past few weeks, I have had much cause to feel that a) I may be having a quarter-life crisis and b) I am experiencing a lot of personal growth. As anyone who has been through a personal growth spurt will know, it is often unpleasant and often makes one sort of an unpleasant person. Like the teething of the soul.
I don't think I'm fully teethed at this moment, and maybe won't be for a long time. But I do feel a lot better than I did at this time last week.
As always, music is a valuable tool for this sort of thing and the music I've been focusing on is the extremely recent EP Fade Away by Best Coast. If you asked me to sum up the moment of mid-twenties uncertainty in which I currently find myself, the instability and the low-level angst and the problems that I objectively know are not THAT bad but that feel bad, I'd say, "listen to this."
The song: Best Coast, "Who Have I Become?"; 2013
Because when I listen to it, I realize that this is just a passing moment, and I can see the beauty in that.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Nuh Nuh Nuh Nuh Nuh Nuh Nuh Nuh: Ode to Joy
The above is my best attempt at representing in words that line that we all know how to hum, which came to me out of the blue when I was in the shower today, which is Thanksgiving.
It took me a few times through to remember what it was, as it was just one of those things that occasionally comes through on the radio receiver in my head. Although I am working on my skills to appreciate classical music, they are not very good -- and so I think it appropriate that, of all the classical pieces that could come to me as an idea for a blog post, it would be this one. It IS a pop song, after all. Interpreted and re-interpreted many times, too commonly heard to be really listened to, but one of the musical themes that shapes our lives.
Like many people, all I really know of this song is that main line. It might be because of the name that this song comes to me in moments of idle happiness -- of THANKSGIVING, one might say -- but I also think there is something special captured there.
All I want to say here is, good job Beethoven. And good job to the people behind this very cool video featuring visual accompaniment. And Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.
The song: Ludwig van Beethoven, "Symphony No. 9 (Fourth Movement)"; 1824. Performed by the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
It took me a few times through to remember what it was, as it was just one of those things that occasionally comes through on the radio receiver in my head. Although I am working on my skills to appreciate classical music, they are not very good -- and so I think it appropriate that, of all the classical pieces that could come to me as an idea for a blog post, it would be this one. It IS a pop song, after all. Interpreted and re-interpreted many times, too commonly heard to be really listened to, but one of the musical themes that shapes our lives.
Like many people, all I really know of this song is that main line. It might be because of the name that this song comes to me in moments of idle happiness -- of THANKSGIVING, one might say -- but I also think there is something special captured there.
All I want to say here is, good job Beethoven. And good job to the people behind this very cool video featuring visual accompaniment. And Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.
The song: Ludwig van Beethoven, "Symphony No. 9 (Fourth Movement)"; 1824. Performed by the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Monday, November 25, 2013
To Let You Know I Can Really Shake 'Em Down: Keep It Light
This song I would put in the category of, things you've probably heard too many times to actually hear.
But it's SO GOOD.
(For a long time, it was in that category for me too.)
Interesting things about this song:
1. It's Motown, but really does not sound like it at all. Mostly due to that squeaking, soulful vocal line (which is SO great).
2. Not only is it Motown, it's one of the few Motown hits actually written by Berry Gordy himself!
3. Not only was it written by Berry Gordy, in his frenzy of writing he became convinced that this song had to be recorded immediately if not sooner (it seems like he did this a lot). It was supposed to go to the Temptations, but he actually literally could not FIND the Temptations, so grabbed another group and had them do it instead.
Which is a very charming story and only feeds my Martha-Reeves fantasies of being some unassuming office-type in the corridors of Hitsville USA and being called in to pinch-hit as a backup singer on what turns out to be a mega-hit and then having a whole fabulous life filled with sparkly dresses and doing for a living what I currently do only in the privacy of my own home, ie perfecting my snapping-along technique to the music of the Four Tops.
AHEM. In any case, I love this song. If only because it reminds me to remember that life goes a lot better if you can dance about it. Incidentally these dance moves look a lot like mine although I can only hope to one day be this stylish.
But isn't there something just so endearing about these relatively unpolished moves, particularly with the distance of time and our current culture of HD hyper-quality? I think so. This is so much of what I love about watching Motown artists: they truly are having fun, and it shows.
The song: The Contours, "Do You Love Me"; 1962
(After all, she may not love him any better now that he's got a rockin' Twist, but you gotta know that'll serve him well.)
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
PS Important research for this post came from the excellent blog Motown Junkies, which is a must-read for any fan of Motown or of intelligent, unpretentious, serious writing about pop music. Thank you, Motown Junkies!
But it's SO GOOD.
(For a long time, it was in that category for me too.)
Interesting things about this song:
1. It's Motown, but really does not sound like it at all. Mostly due to that squeaking, soulful vocal line (which is SO great).
2. Not only is it Motown, it's one of the few Motown hits actually written by Berry Gordy himself!
3. Not only was it written by Berry Gordy, in his frenzy of writing he became convinced that this song had to be recorded immediately if not sooner (it seems like he did this a lot). It was supposed to go to the Temptations, but he actually literally could not FIND the Temptations, so grabbed another group and had them do it instead.
Which is a very charming story and only feeds my Martha-Reeves fantasies of being some unassuming office-type in the corridors of Hitsville USA and being called in to pinch-hit as a backup singer on what turns out to be a mega-hit and then having a whole fabulous life filled with sparkly dresses and doing for a living what I currently do only in the privacy of my own home, ie perfecting my snapping-along technique to the music of the Four Tops.
AHEM. In any case, I love this song. If only because it reminds me to remember that life goes a lot better if you can dance about it. Incidentally these dance moves look a lot like mine although I can only hope to one day be this stylish.
But isn't there something just so endearing about these relatively unpolished moves, particularly with the distance of time and our current culture of HD hyper-quality? I think so. This is so much of what I love about watching Motown artists: they truly are having fun, and it shows.
The song: The Contours, "Do You Love Me"; 1962
(After all, she may not love him any better now that he's got a rockin' Twist, but you gotta know that'll serve him well.)
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
PS Important research for this post came from the excellent blog Motown Junkies, which is a must-read for any fan of Motown or of intelligent, unpretentious, serious writing about pop music. Thank you, Motown Junkies!
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Don't Stop Let's Party: The Fame Monster
I am very interested in fame.
Not so much for myself, although I do fantasize several times a week about being on Dancing with the Stars, but certainly as a concept and one that affects all of our lives regardless of what we think our level of buy-in to mainstream culture is.
Without a doubt one of the most interesting commentators on the subject of fame these days is Lady Gaga, not least because she has always made it explicit that she IS interested in commenting on fame through her image and music. (Some of my other favorite mega-famous women, like Katy Perry and Rihanna, are less obvious about it.)
Although in this day and age, it seems that everything is a comment on itself. I think that's why I appreciate when it's made explicit, because there's got to be a straight line to something in order for me to feel motivated to navigate the maze of meta-commentary.
There was a time (roughly 2009) when Lady Gaga was mega-famous the first time around and it was au courant to discuss which was your favorite Lady Gaga song. (Either it was au courant or I have some very indulgent friends. Or both.) Sometimes I would say "Alejandro" (which IS a really good song) but in my heart of hearts I always felt that this song was the alpha and omega of Lady Gaga, the one that would endure to show people what she was all about.
It's still too soon to make that call but at least in my opinion, this song holds up.
The song: Lady Gaga, "Paparazzi"; 2008
First off, ooh this song is still REALLY catchy is it not?
Secondly: "Paparazzi" links romantic obsession to cultural obsession by blurring the lines in the figure of the amateur paparazzo/fan who only knows she wants to possess, somehow, the object of her attention. It doesn't seem to really matter how. In this song, the song itself, Gaga plays the obsessor. In her life at the time, she was the obsess-ee.
Which is I find her latest single such an interesting follow-up to "Paparazzi".
The song: Lady Gaga ft. R Kelly, "Do What U Want"; 2013
Like "Paparazzi", this song compares the public (fame) with the private (sex). As such, like "Paparazzi", it works both as a pop song and a statement, depending on how deep you're in the mood to think when you hear it.
She pushed this song to greater heights in three ways:
- By collaborating with R Kelly, an artist whose image currently epitomizes (fairly or not) the washed-up. This is why I really believe and respect him when he says "we're laying the cut like we don't give a fuck", because I think not-giving-a-fuck is precisely what R Kelly needs to do right now. That's the only way back.
- By referencing Marilyn Monroe, the ultimate touchstone of poisoned fame. (For more on that, see this somewhat crazy post I wrote forever ago about Marilyn, Rihanna, Tupac, Kanye, and "Candle in the Wind".)
- By, in the opening lines, providing at least the illusion of a glimpse into her personal life. Lady Gaga has always been, for better or worse, a highly constructed celebrity. What she says about herself rarely has the ring of truth. But Lady Gaga has always been out to shock, and to engage in meta-commentary, and to provoke conversation. I believe she's reached a point of fame -- and what's more, that the culture has shifted such between 2009 and 2013 -- that the most shocking and provocative and au courant possible move to make is. . .simple honesty.
To me this song feels like mega-hit. I'm interested to see if it is.
(Writing this post reminded me of a relatively similar, although less cultural and more personal, entry about Eminem's songs "Lose Yourself" and "Till I Collapse". Read it here if you like.)
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Not so much for myself, although I do fantasize several times a week about being on Dancing with the Stars, but certainly as a concept and one that affects all of our lives regardless of what we think our level of buy-in to mainstream culture is.
Without a doubt one of the most interesting commentators on the subject of fame these days is Lady Gaga, not least because she has always made it explicit that she IS interested in commenting on fame through her image and music. (Some of my other favorite mega-famous women, like Katy Perry and Rihanna, are less obvious about it.)
Although in this day and age, it seems that everything is a comment on itself. I think that's why I appreciate when it's made explicit, because there's got to be a straight line to something in order for me to feel motivated to navigate the maze of meta-commentary.
There was a time (roughly 2009) when Lady Gaga was mega-famous the first time around and it was au courant to discuss which was your favorite Lady Gaga song. (Either it was au courant or I have some very indulgent friends. Or both.) Sometimes I would say "Alejandro" (which IS a really good song) but in my heart of hearts I always felt that this song was the alpha and omega of Lady Gaga, the one that would endure to show people what she was all about.
It's still too soon to make that call but at least in my opinion, this song holds up.
The song: Lady Gaga, "Paparazzi"; 2008
First off, ooh this song is still REALLY catchy is it not?
Secondly: "Paparazzi" links romantic obsession to cultural obsession by blurring the lines in the figure of the amateur paparazzo/fan who only knows she wants to possess, somehow, the object of her attention. It doesn't seem to really matter how. In this song, the song itself, Gaga plays the obsessor. In her life at the time, she was the obsess-ee.
Which is I find her latest single such an interesting follow-up to "Paparazzi".
The song: Lady Gaga ft. R Kelly, "Do What U Want"; 2013
Like "Paparazzi", this song compares the public (fame) with the private (sex). As such, like "Paparazzi", it works both as a pop song and a statement, depending on how deep you're in the mood to think when you hear it.
She pushed this song to greater heights in three ways:
- By collaborating with R Kelly, an artist whose image currently epitomizes (fairly or not) the washed-up. This is why I really believe and respect him when he says "we're laying the cut like we don't give a fuck", because I think not-giving-a-fuck is precisely what R Kelly needs to do right now. That's the only way back.
- By referencing Marilyn Monroe, the ultimate touchstone of poisoned fame. (For more on that, see this somewhat crazy post I wrote forever ago about Marilyn, Rihanna, Tupac, Kanye, and "Candle in the Wind".)
- By, in the opening lines, providing at least the illusion of a glimpse into her personal life. Lady Gaga has always been, for better or worse, a highly constructed celebrity. What she says about herself rarely has the ring of truth. But Lady Gaga has always been out to shock, and to engage in meta-commentary, and to provoke conversation. I believe she's reached a point of fame -- and what's more, that the culture has shifted such between 2009 and 2013 -- that the most shocking and provocative and au courant possible move to make is. . .simple honesty.
To me this song feels like mega-hit. I'm interested to see if it is.
(Writing this post reminded me of a relatively similar, although less cultural and more personal, entry about Eminem's songs "Lose Yourself" and "Till I Collapse". Read it here if you like.)
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Monday, November 4, 2013
Tell The Truth: "A Woman's World"
It seems that I always turn to Cher when I want to brush on the topics of feminism or humanism. The reason for this is two-fold: for one thing, Cher is one of my favorite women/humans of all time, and secondly, she represents something that is important to me.
Given that she has been mega-famous continuously since 1965, it seems to me there's no denying that Cher is a living legend and a force of nature. What's truly remarkable about this in my eyes is that her chief talent seems to be "being herself".
I don't mean that in a derogatory way. This is what makes her singing and songs resonant -- they seem to be reflective of something true, something she has lived. And if you've seen her acting in Moonstruck (which I hope you have), you'll know that she brings unforgettable transparency to that character. (The incredible writing of John Patrick Shanley is also a factor in what makes that movie SO GREAT, it must be said. "I ain't no monument to justice! I lost my hand! I lost my bride!")
Cher is always willing to be herself, but what's more, she has a sense of humor about that self. For instance, do you know that she once starred in a mini-production of West Side Story. . .playing all the characters? It's completely insane and brilliant. Watch it here.
And I have complete confidence that Cher will be Cher until the day she disappears from this planet in a cloud of purple glitter (I'm pretty sure she won't "die" like the rest of us). A confidence that is reinforced by her most recent single:
The song: Cher, "Woman's World"; 2013
The song may not be your taste, but please give it up for a 67-year-old woman who wears a gigantic headdress made of cut-up newspapers in the video for her ENTIRELY CREDIBLE club song.
The amazing thing about "Woman's World" is that it sounds so like a Cher song, but it also sounds like a 2013 song. This tells me Cher can adapt to the world as it is, which is something that I admire in everybody but particularly in people who are on the older side.
Cher is one of those artists, like Amy Winehouse, Dusty Springfield, and Joni Mitchell, for whom I feel my appreciation is uniquely colored by being female. It is hard to be a woman.
That feels like a controversial statement to make, although I am not quite sure why. Perhaps because it carries a huge weight of implication: that it's hard to be woman because men make it that way, or that it shouldn't be hard to be a woman any more because of the 1960s, or that (the old chestnut) the feelings that give rise to the idea that it's hard to be a woman are because of an individual woman's personal failings instead of something universal or systematic.
I don't know that I'm trying to make a political statement, and I certainly don't want to make a statement of victimhood. I know it is also hard to be a man; I have read novels. My theory is, and it's not exactly groundbreaking but okay, but my theory is that it's just hard to be a person and the way in which it is hard is determined by what kind of person you are.
This is why I respond so much to Cher's music, which contains not only her trademark message of self-actualization but also the exhortation to join together instead of working apart. Speaking personally, that's the only thing I've ever found to make it easier.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Given that she has been mega-famous continuously since 1965, it seems to me there's no denying that Cher is a living legend and a force of nature. What's truly remarkable about this in my eyes is that her chief talent seems to be "being herself".
I don't mean that in a derogatory way. This is what makes her singing and songs resonant -- they seem to be reflective of something true, something she has lived. And if you've seen her acting in Moonstruck (which I hope you have), you'll know that she brings unforgettable transparency to that character. (The incredible writing of John Patrick Shanley is also a factor in what makes that movie SO GREAT, it must be said. "I ain't no monument to justice! I lost my hand! I lost my bride!")
Cher is always willing to be herself, but what's more, she has a sense of humor about that self. For instance, do you know that she once starred in a mini-production of West Side Story. . .playing all the characters? It's completely insane and brilliant. Watch it here.
And I have complete confidence that Cher will be Cher until the day she disappears from this planet in a cloud of purple glitter (I'm pretty sure she won't "die" like the rest of us). A confidence that is reinforced by her most recent single:
The song: Cher, "Woman's World"; 2013
The song may not be your taste, but please give it up for a 67-year-old woman who wears a gigantic headdress made of cut-up newspapers in the video for her ENTIRELY CREDIBLE club song.
The amazing thing about "Woman's World" is that it sounds so like a Cher song, but it also sounds like a 2013 song. This tells me Cher can adapt to the world as it is, which is something that I admire in everybody but particularly in people who are on the older side.
Cher is one of those artists, like Amy Winehouse, Dusty Springfield, and Joni Mitchell, for whom I feel my appreciation is uniquely colored by being female. It is hard to be a woman.
That feels like a controversial statement to make, although I am not quite sure why. Perhaps because it carries a huge weight of implication: that it's hard to be woman because men make it that way, or that it shouldn't be hard to be a woman any more because of the 1960s, or that (the old chestnut) the feelings that give rise to the idea that it's hard to be a woman are because of an individual woman's personal failings instead of something universal or systematic.
I don't know that I'm trying to make a political statement, and I certainly don't want to make a statement of victimhood. I know it is also hard to be a man; I have read novels. My theory is, and it's not exactly groundbreaking but okay, but my theory is that it's just hard to be a person and the way in which it is hard is determined by what kind of person you are.
This is why I respond so much to Cher's music, which contains not only her trademark message of self-actualization but also the exhortation to join together instead of working apart. Speaking personally, that's the only thing I've ever found to make it easier.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Gee My Life's A Funny Thing: Plastic Soul
Hi friends.
I just came back from a brief trip to Scotland.
Scotland is a great and very beautiful country and it was hard to want to leave it. In the days since returning, I have been trying to fall back in love with America (since this is where I live). Generally I do love America, albeit at times in that peeking-through-my-fingers way that is actually pretty typical of love now that I come to think of it. But, as I said, Scotland is a great and very beautiful country and it was hard to want to leave it.
My preferred method of traveling is two-fold: a) pretend I live there and b) get productively lost. If I had my way, I would spend most of time in foreign countries walking down the street and peering into the lighted windows of grocery stores. I am glad that I usually travel with other people who make me do things like go to museums and hike. It's not that I don't enjoy doing those things; I do. It's that left to my own devices, I would wander around and have exquisitely melancholy thoughts for the length of my entire vacation. I need to learn to limit my tendency in that direction, I think.
In any case, I did a tiny bit of this when I was in Scotland, and I walked down the street at night, and I peered into the lighted window of this pub that had not real bookshelves but bookshelves painted on the walls, and I found that really charming, and I put down my exquisite melancholy and I went in.
As I was sitting in an armchair in this pub, reading a book about the young Queen Elizabeth II and gazing at the painted books on the wall and thinking the moment could not get any more perfect, this song came on softly in the background.
There are many music-y things to say about this song. One music-y thing I didn't know is that it was Luther Vandross who suggested the arrangement for the backing vocals (which I think is very cool). I'm not sure I really want to say music-y things about it though.
I want to play you this song, because it came on at the exact right time for me. It's a bridge back to that moment, but also a bridge back to real life.
The song: David Bowie, "Young Americans"; 1975
(It's also just a great song, which is what this is all about. Plz enjoy. And maybe, turn it up.)
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
I just came back from a brief trip to Scotland.
Scotland is a great and very beautiful country and it was hard to want to leave it. In the days since returning, I have been trying to fall back in love with America (since this is where I live). Generally I do love America, albeit at times in that peeking-through-my-fingers way that is actually pretty typical of love now that I come to think of it. But, as I said, Scotland is a great and very beautiful country and it was hard to want to leave it.
My preferred method of traveling is two-fold: a) pretend I live there and b) get productively lost. If I had my way, I would spend most of time in foreign countries walking down the street and peering into the lighted windows of grocery stores. I am glad that I usually travel with other people who make me do things like go to museums and hike. It's not that I don't enjoy doing those things; I do. It's that left to my own devices, I would wander around and have exquisitely melancholy thoughts for the length of my entire vacation. I need to learn to limit my tendency in that direction, I think.
In any case, I did a tiny bit of this when I was in Scotland, and I walked down the street at night, and I peered into the lighted window of this pub that had not real bookshelves but bookshelves painted on the walls, and I found that really charming, and I put down my exquisite melancholy and I went in.
As I was sitting in an armchair in this pub, reading a book about the young Queen Elizabeth II and gazing at the painted books on the wall and thinking the moment could not get any more perfect, this song came on softly in the background.
There are many music-y things to say about this song. One music-y thing I didn't know is that it was Luther Vandross who suggested the arrangement for the backing vocals (which I think is very cool). I'm not sure I really want to say music-y things about it though.
I want to play you this song, because it came on at the exact right time for me. It's a bridge back to that moment, but also a bridge back to real life.
The song: David Bowie, "Young Americans"; 1975
(It's also just a great song, which is what this is all about. Plz enjoy. And maybe, turn it up.)
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Friday, October 11, 2013
I Just Want You To Feel Fine: Another Time Around
Continuing the theme of songs that have been featured here before. . .
This song was featured, again in sort of glib making-a-point kind of way, in the third entry posted here on In Bed with Amy Wilson.
That entry was about Fleetwood Mac's seminal album Rumours, and I still mostly agree with what I said although it is more than a little bit agonizing to revisit something I wrote a year and a half ago. Just because that is the nature of writing things, I think.
When I wrote that entry about Rumours, my blog was very new (less than a week old) and I was obsessively in love with it. My blog, I mean. I hope that doesn't sound hopelessly self-absorbed to say. I wasn't in love with what I was writing in the blog, but with having a blog in the first place. It's so simple, a very small thing, but powerful.
As I have mentioned here, when I started this blog I was just coming off a breakup. Although it was painful, like all breakups, it wasn't so bad all things considered (much like the one I mentioned the other day). What it gave me, mostly, was an insane drive for self-determination -- as in, the desire to have a deliberate hand in what I thought and presented to the world. Hence this blog, and the radio show, and the leopard-print dress I happen to be wearing today, and all the other trappings of independent womanhood I have acquired in the last eighteen months.
When I started In Bed with Amy Wilson I called it that because at the time, I lived in a very small apartment with two other people and we didn't really have a living room so I spent nearly 100% of my time when I was at home in my bed. Just sitting on it. Listening to music. Having thoughts. Hanging out with friends. The name of the blog was supposed to have sort of a, "hey, welcome to my world!" sort of feeling to it.
Now I have my own apartment and a purple squishy couch that I love, and that's where I spend the vast majority of my time when I am at home. If I started my blog today it would be called On the Couch with Amy Wilson. I kind of like that name better, partially because of its allusion to mental health which is becoming something I write about more, but In Bed with Amy Wilson it will stay.
I often wonder why I have this blog, and in dark moments I really do berate myself for having it. As anybody with an obsessive-leaning mind will most likely understand, I have a drumbeat of negative adjectives that strikes up when I least expect it and then becomes so constant as to be almost unheard. "Self-involved" is one of them, I won't mention the others because I try not to encourage them. In any case, I do sometimes wonder what right I have to present what I think to the world and then I remember, oh yes, the same right anybody else does.
*
In Bed with Amy Wilson is nominally about pop music, but I think that means it can be about everything else as well. One of the other things it is about is relationships, although I very rarely mention anything or anyone specific. I don't do that because I want to be vague or dramatic, and even if I did it probably wouldn't work very well. . .for instance I have been writing about break-ups and such recently, so if you were inclined to look beyond the surface you might think "Hey, she's going through a break-up!". Nope. I am not. Just living. And sometimes, in the course of living, things come back to you in less than chronological order.
When I was in high school I went through a HUGE Joan Didion phase, and something Joan said that stuck with me was this: writers are always selling somebody out. I felt then, and feel even more strongly now, that that doesn't necessarily have to be true, at least not in the way that she means it. As I get older I become much more aware of the value of other people's stories, and the arrogance I would display in thinking I have any right to tell them without express permission. This is why I keep things general on my blog, and also why I talk about myself.
Because I don't think Joan is wrong, exactly. I do think writers are selling somebody out. My goal is for the only person I sell out to be me. For the only stories I tell to be mine. And for this, somehow, to contribute to the general pool of stories and experiences that I firmly believe enriches all of our lives. That's the only thing I'm comfortable with -- the only way I can justify writing and speaking in public the way I have done -- it's how I define independence.
*
This blog is about relationships, for everything that means. One of the most special ways it is about relationships is when something I write here feels true to somebody else. (And they tell me about it. Otherwise I can't know. And that's okay too.)
Somebody once said to me about In Bed with Amy Wilson that when she read it, she felt that she was reading something that truly Got what it is like to be a mid-twenty-something woman. That comment meant more to me than almost any other I have received, about anything. At the time I didn't think of this blog as being a particular reflection of mid-twenties-ness, or womanhood, but I've since realized that I don't have to try to make it a reflection of those things. It just is.
That is one of the most important and most difficult lessons I have learned as a writer, and I guess you could say as a person too. The lesson is that the more you try to make something a certain way, the less likely it is to turn out that way. And the way things turn out to be is so often impossible to understand in the moment.
When I read that old entry about Rumours I feel very acutely what I felt when I wrote it -- which was a burning compulsion just to write SOMETHING in this blog, to maintain the momentum needed to actually make this a thing that exists and not just another addition to the graveyard of forgotten projects that is the Internet. Like all relationships, my relationship with my blog was most intense at the beginning and has since (not faded, but) deepened into something slower, and more real, and more indicative of the value of commitment.
And so I feel I understand this song so much better than I did when I wrote about it the first time, when I thought of it as merely snide. I now see it as something much more profound. As Stevie and Lindsey sing, "I don't want to know". . .because I don't HAVE to know. Not right now, at least.
The song: Fleetwood Mac, "I Don't Want To Know"; 1977
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
This song was featured, again in sort of glib making-a-point kind of way, in the third entry posted here on In Bed with Amy Wilson.
That entry was about Fleetwood Mac's seminal album Rumours, and I still mostly agree with what I said although it is more than a little bit agonizing to revisit something I wrote a year and a half ago. Just because that is the nature of writing things, I think.
When I wrote that entry about Rumours, my blog was very new (less than a week old) and I was obsessively in love with it. My blog, I mean. I hope that doesn't sound hopelessly self-absorbed to say. I wasn't in love with what I was writing in the blog, but with having a blog in the first place. It's so simple, a very small thing, but powerful.
As I have mentioned here, when I started this blog I was just coming off a breakup. Although it was painful, like all breakups, it wasn't so bad all things considered (much like the one I mentioned the other day). What it gave me, mostly, was an insane drive for self-determination -- as in, the desire to have a deliberate hand in what I thought and presented to the world. Hence this blog, and the radio show, and the leopard-print dress I happen to be wearing today, and all the other trappings of independent womanhood I have acquired in the last eighteen months.
When I started In Bed with Amy Wilson I called it that because at the time, I lived in a very small apartment with two other people and we didn't really have a living room so I spent nearly 100% of my time when I was at home in my bed. Just sitting on it. Listening to music. Having thoughts. Hanging out with friends. The name of the blog was supposed to have sort of a, "hey, welcome to my world!" sort of feeling to it.
Now I have my own apartment and a purple squishy couch that I love, and that's where I spend the vast majority of my time when I am at home. If I started my blog today it would be called On the Couch with Amy Wilson. I kind of like that name better, partially because of its allusion to mental health which is becoming something I write about more, but In Bed with Amy Wilson it will stay.
I often wonder why I have this blog, and in dark moments I really do berate myself for having it. As anybody with an obsessive-leaning mind will most likely understand, I have a drumbeat of negative adjectives that strikes up when I least expect it and then becomes so constant as to be almost unheard. "Self-involved" is one of them, I won't mention the others because I try not to encourage them. In any case, I do sometimes wonder what right I have to present what I think to the world and then I remember, oh yes, the same right anybody else does.
*
In Bed with Amy Wilson is nominally about pop music, but I think that means it can be about everything else as well. One of the other things it is about is relationships, although I very rarely mention anything or anyone specific. I don't do that because I want to be vague or dramatic, and even if I did it probably wouldn't work very well. . .for instance I have been writing about break-ups and such recently, so if you were inclined to look beyond the surface you might think "Hey, she's going through a break-up!". Nope. I am not. Just living. And sometimes, in the course of living, things come back to you in less than chronological order.
When I was in high school I went through a HUGE Joan Didion phase, and something Joan said that stuck with me was this: writers are always selling somebody out. I felt then, and feel even more strongly now, that that doesn't necessarily have to be true, at least not in the way that she means it. As I get older I become much more aware of the value of other people's stories, and the arrogance I would display in thinking I have any right to tell them without express permission. This is why I keep things general on my blog, and also why I talk about myself.
Because I don't think Joan is wrong, exactly. I do think writers are selling somebody out. My goal is for the only person I sell out to be me. For the only stories I tell to be mine. And for this, somehow, to contribute to the general pool of stories and experiences that I firmly believe enriches all of our lives. That's the only thing I'm comfortable with -- the only way I can justify writing and speaking in public the way I have done -- it's how I define independence.
*
This blog is about relationships, for everything that means. One of the most special ways it is about relationships is when something I write here feels true to somebody else. (And they tell me about it. Otherwise I can't know. And that's okay too.)
Somebody once said to me about In Bed with Amy Wilson that when she read it, she felt that she was reading something that truly Got what it is like to be a mid-twenty-something woman. That comment meant more to me than almost any other I have received, about anything. At the time I didn't think of this blog as being a particular reflection of mid-twenties-ness, or womanhood, but I've since realized that I don't have to try to make it a reflection of those things. It just is.
That is one of the most important and most difficult lessons I have learned as a writer, and I guess you could say as a person too. The lesson is that the more you try to make something a certain way, the less likely it is to turn out that way. And the way things turn out to be is so often impossible to understand in the moment.
When I read that old entry about Rumours I feel very acutely what I felt when I wrote it -- which was a burning compulsion just to write SOMETHING in this blog, to maintain the momentum needed to actually make this a thing that exists and not just another addition to the graveyard of forgotten projects that is the Internet. Like all relationships, my relationship with my blog was most intense at the beginning and has since (not faded, but) deepened into something slower, and more real, and more indicative of the value of commitment.
And so I feel I understand this song so much better than I did when I wrote about it the first time, when I thought of it as merely snide. I now see it as something much more profound. As Stevie and Lindsey sing, "I don't want to know". . .because I don't HAVE to know. Not right now, at least.
The song: Fleetwood Mac, "I Don't Want To Know"; 1977
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Sometimes I Told You You Was Beautiful: *~*~Memories~*~*
In the summer of 2007 I ran to this song.
I had taken up running and knitting in the wake of what seemed at the time to be the worst possible break-up in the world. In hindsight, it was not the worst possible break-up in the world. Actually, it was a pretty nice break-up all things considered -- I wept copiously, watched a lot of Bridget Jones' Diary, gained the habit for using expensive scented soap that I still have today, got a transformative haircut, and read a bunch of books that I otherwise would probably not have read, such as Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I worked at a science museum that was hosting the Body Worlds exhibit, so I spent many of my days sitting at the top of a long set of stairs gazing over the Willamette River and telling people the rules for entering a giant hall full of dead, mutilated bodies. (Without ever saying the words "dead", "mutilated", or "bodies", as that was against the rules.)
In short it was exquisite melancholy, a feeling I have inhabited many times since that summer. I figure, if you have to be melancholy (and it seems that sometimes I do), why not make it beautiful?
And THAT is one of the many things I love about pop music.
*
The other songs on this post-breakup running mix were more typically post-breakup: "Love to Hate You" and "Victim of Love" by Erasure, "Back to Black" by Amy Winehouse, "Sexx Laws" by Beck, and a few more.
With its swoony strings and medium tempo, this song was a good fit for my (plodding, contemplative) style of running. I am not a natural runner by any stretch of the imagination, but at the end of a long summer I had a steady jog that I was proud of. And this song always came at the end of my run, after I had worked out my various feelings of discomfort and unpleasantness both emotionally and physically.
"Resiliency amazes me" is the phrase that stuck out to me, as it probably will to you when you hear it. It was not something I had ever heard put in that way. It was not a concept I was familiar with, "resiliency", although I was living it. To me what it means is -- why not make it beautiful?
The song: DeVotchKa, "I Cried Like A Silly Boy"; 2006
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
I had taken up running and knitting in the wake of what seemed at the time to be the worst possible break-up in the world. In hindsight, it was not the worst possible break-up in the world. Actually, it was a pretty nice break-up all things considered -- I wept copiously, watched a lot of Bridget Jones' Diary, gained the habit for using expensive scented soap that I still have today, got a transformative haircut, and read a bunch of books that I otherwise would probably not have read, such as Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I worked at a science museum that was hosting the Body Worlds exhibit, so I spent many of my days sitting at the top of a long set of stairs gazing over the Willamette River and telling people the rules for entering a giant hall full of dead, mutilated bodies. (Without ever saying the words "dead", "mutilated", or "bodies", as that was against the rules.)
In short it was exquisite melancholy, a feeling I have inhabited many times since that summer. I figure, if you have to be melancholy (and it seems that sometimes I do), why not make it beautiful?
And THAT is one of the many things I love about pop music.
*
The other songs on this post-breakup running mix were more typically post-breakup: "Love to Hate You" and "Victim of Love" by Erasure, "Back to Black" by Amy Winehouse, "Sexx Laws" by Beck, and a few more.
With its swoony strings and medium tempo, this song was a good fit for my (plodding, contemplative) style of running. I am not a natural runner by any stretch of the imagination, but at the end of a long summer I had a steady jog that I was proud of. And this song always came at the end of my run, after I had worked out my various feelings of discomfort and unpleasantness both emotionally and physically.
"Resiliency amazes me" is the phrase that stuck out to me, as it probably will to you when you hear it. It was not something I had ever heard put in that way. It was not a concept I was familiar with, "resiliency", although I was living it. To me what it means is -- why not make it beautiful?
The song: DeVotchKa, "I Cried Like A Silly Boy"; 2006
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Baby, Go On and Live: "Tell It Like It Is"
I've wondered what the first song to be featured here twice would be.
I knew it would happen, given how much I love to listen to songs repeatedly and how much the meaning of songs can change over time.
And this one I feel like I gave short shrift the first time around in service of proving a point (something that sadly happens all too often). The point was that many songs that call themselves love songs are actually not all that loving when you look at them too close.
But this song deserves to be more than a stepping stone in the construction of an argument. It is actually one of my favorite songs of all time, and one that always stops me in my tracks when I hear it.
*
The song: Aaron Neville, "Tell It Like It Is"; 1967
The second that piano arpeggio hits, you know this song is NOT fucking around. And it doesn't: it's leisurely and measured in pace, but in a way that imparts confidence. What's more, if you listen to the horns in the background it will make you feel like there is something there that is restrained, but barely.
"Life is too short to have sorrow/you may be here today and gone tomorrow/you might as well get what you want" is a line that gets me right in the Chronic Existential Pain Syndrome. But that's okay, because it does what I need things to do to me, which is to shake me out of it.
Tell it like it is: a phrase I love because it uses short and simple words to make a deceptively complicated point.
One of those things that's so much easier said than done, but that doesn't mean it's not worth a try.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
I knew it would happen, given how much I love to listen to songs repeatedly and how much the meaning of songs can change over time.
And this one I feel like I gave short shrift the first time around in service of proving a point (something that sadly happens all too often). The point was that many songs that call themselves love songs are actually not all that loving when you look at them too close.
But this song deserves to be more than a stepping stone in the construction of an argument. It is actually one of my favorite songs of all time, and one that always stops me in my tracks when I hear it.
*
The song: Aaron Neville, "Tell It Like It Is"; 1967
The second that piano arpeggio hits, you know this song is NOT fucking around. And it doesn't: it's leisurely and measured in pace, but in a way that imparts confidence. What's more, if you listen to the horns in the background it will make you feel like there is something there that is restrained, but barely.
"Life is too short to have sorrow/you may be here today and gone tomorrow/you might as well get what you want" is a line that gets me right in the Chronic Existential Pain Syndrome. But that's okay, because it does what I need things to do to me, which is to shake me out of it.
Tell it like it is: a phrase I love because it uses short and simple words to make a deceptively complicated point.
One of those things that's so much easier said than done, but that doesn't mean it's not worth a try.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
So You Used to Shake Em Down but Now You Stop and Think About Your Dignity: "Rock and Roll Never Forgets"
Those who know me these days know that I spend a fair amount of time listening to various flavors of Comcast Music Choice, also known as those weird 400-level channels just after the Mexican wrestling and just before pay-per-view porn.
The depth and variety of the channels available (everything from Top 40 to Broadway show tunes to ambient electronica to Latin romantic pop) has expanded my musical landscape substantially. (Not to mention the Did U Know section of the screen, which adds facts like "Gilberto Santo Rosa is known as the Gentleman of Salsa" and "Bjorn Again is an Australian ABBA cover band" to my ever-growing collection of completely useless knowledge!)
One of the most interesting experiences on this Music Choice journey has been listening the 70s channel. But perhaps not interesting in the way you might expect.
Having raised myself on oldies radio and other music of the 1960s and 1970s, naturally I adore those tunes. But what I had never really realized is that the simple fact that I WAS hearing those tunes as a child in the 1990s meant that they had already passed the test of time and been proven as lasting classics. But what I am realizing now, both through listening to the 1970s channel and through listening to Top 40 radio of the current day, is that most songs released in any given year are NOT lasting classics. In fact most songs released in any given year are kind of crap. The reason why the music of the past sounds better to so many of us (and by us I mean "YouTube commenters") is that it's been filtered out of the crap to stand on its own.
Perhaps this is a self-evident conclusion, but it was news to me. When I realized that I wasn't just continually catching the 70s channel on a bad day, but that there really WERE that many white-bread awful songs about kissing girls named Brenda in the rain, it did two things for me:
- Cured me of the vestiges of the 1970s fetish I developed in college. While I still want to spend the rest of my life dancing to the Bee Gees under a shower of glitter confetti and/or lounging around under a tree reading Salinger and wearing corduroy, I now realize that I can do those things even though it's not 1976 anymore! Whoa, man. In fact, even better, I can do BOTH those things and many more things because we are fortunate enough to live in an era of great musical and cultural diversity.
- Made me really excited to hear what songs and artists of my own era will filter out as lasting classics. I have my suspicions but I'm interested to hear what happens. Guess it's just my incentive to continue investing in the sometimes soul-harrrowing pursuit of loving popular music.
*
In any case, this song came on last night as I was listening to the 70s channel and it struck me as very refreshing in its earnest rock-iness.
In college I had an ongoing argument with a good friend about this song, which was mostly based on my irrational anger at the following two lines:
"So you're a little bit older and a lot less bolder than you used to be" (20-year-old Amy: "A LOT LESS BOLDER??")
"Check your local newspaper, chances are you won't have to go too far" (20-year-old Amy just thought that was inane and not in the endearing way either.)
Both of these arguments my friend pretty effectively shut down by saying (words to the effect of), "20-year-old Amy, how is it that you rail on this song for those ultimately harmless lyrics but you put up with lines like 'I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar'?"
He was right. And he was also right that this song is charming. That's the power of music: it's just waiting for you to remember.
The song: Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band, "Rock and Roll Never Forgets"; 1976
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
The depth and variety of the channels available (everything from Top 40 to Broadway show tunes to ambient electronica to Latin romantic pop) has expanded my musical landscape substantially. (Not to mention the Did U Know section of the screen, which adds facts like "Gilberto Santo Rosa is known as the Gentleman of Salsa" and "Bjorn Again is an Australian ABBA cover band" to my ever-growing collection of completely useless knowledge!)
One of the most interesting experiences on this Music Choice journey has been listening the 70s channel. But perhaps not interesting in the way you might expect.
Having raised myself on oldies radio and other music of the 1960s and 1970s, naturally I adore those tunes. But what I had never really realized is that the simple fact that I WAS hearing those tunes as a child in the 1990s meant that they had already passed the test of time and been proven as lasting classics. But what I am realizing now, both through listening to the 1970s channel and through listening to Top 40 radio of the current day, is that most songs released in any given year are NOT lasting classics. In fact most songs released in any given year are kind of crap. The reason why the music of the past sounds better to so many of us (and by us I mean "YouTube commenters") is that it's been filtered out of the crap to stand on its own.
Perhaps this is a self-evident conclusion, but it was news to me. When I realized that I wasn't just continually catching the 70s channel on a bad day, but that there really WERE that many white-bread awful songs about kissing girls named Brenda in the rain, it did two things for me:
- Cured me of the vestiges of the 1970s fetish I developed in college. While I still want to spend the rest of my life dancing to the Bee Gees under a shower of glitter confetti and/or lounging around under a tree reading Salinger and wearing corduroy, I now realize that I can do those things even though it's not 1976 anymore! Whoa, man. In fact, even better, I can do BOTH those things and many more things because we are fortunate enough to live in an era of great musical and cultural diversity.
- Made me really excited to hear what songs and artists of my own era will filter out as lasting classics. I have my suspicions but I'm interested to hear what happens. Guess it's just my incentive to continue investing in the sometimes soul-harrrowing pursuit of loving popular music.
*
In any case, this song came on last night as I was listening to the 70s channel and it struck me as very refreshing in its earnest rock-iness.
In college I had an ongoing argument with a good friend about this song, which was mostly based on my irrational anger at the following two lines:
"So you're a little bit older and a lot less bolder than you used to be" (20-year-old Amy: "A LOT LESS BOLDER??")
"Check your local newspaper, chances are you won't have to go too far" (20-year-old Amy just thought that was inane and not in the endearing way either.)
Both of these arguments my friend pretty effectively shut down by saying (words to the effect of), "20-year-old Amy, how is it that you rail on this song for those ultimately harmless lyrics but you put up with lines like 'I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar'?"
He was right. And he was also right that this song is charming. That's the power of music: it's just waiting for you to remember.
The song: Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band, "Rock and Roll Never Forgets"; 1976
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Sunday, September 15, 2013
And That's A Pain I Can Do Without: Fall
As I've written about here before, I have what I call (in a tongue-in-cheek fashion) Chronic Existential Pain Syndrome.
By which I mean the very keen awareness of the fragility and specialness of life, which is often expressed as the fear of death but actually means its inverse, the fear of not living life well.
I'm in my Eastern philosophy phase at the moment (it seems to be a rite of passage), and in my Eastern philosophy phase I came across this well-known haiku by Kobayashi Issa, which is meant to express a dueling knowledge: of comfort with the temporary and beautiful nature of existence, but anguish at what that means when you get it down to brass tacks.
It goes like this:
The world of dew --
A world of dew it is indeed
And yet, and yet. . .
*
I know this is a facet of my personality that may be found morbid, or depressing, or uncomfortable. But it's not something I'm willing to change, even if I could, because my existentialism is the engine that gives my life meaning. When you don't believe in God, you should still believe in something. For me it's the terrifying and exhilarating thought that life is an IKEA cabinet -- you build it yourself.
*
These thoughts are always very pressing to me in the fall, because fall is my favorite season and because the nature of its beauty is change and death.
Very often I see songs in colors, although I don't know if that's an aspect of my reaction to the song or whether it's something more mundane like the color of the album cover or the dress I was wearing when I heard it one time.
This song that I am about to play is a very beautiful color, reddish-brown. Like an autumn evening.
The song: Rod Stewart, "Maggie May"; 1971
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
By which I mean the very keen awareness of the fragility and specialness of life, which is often expressed as the fear of death but actually means its inverse, the fear of not living life well.
I'm in my Eastern philosophy phase at the moment (it seems to be a rite of passage), and in my Eastern philosophy phase I came across this well-known haiku by Kobayashi Issa, which is meant to express a dueling knowledge: of comfort with the temporary and beautiful nature of existence, but anguish at what that means when you get it down to brass tacks.
It goes like this:
The world of dew --
A world of dew it is indeed
And yet, and yet. . .
*
I know this is a facet of my personality that may be found morbid, or depressing, or uncomfortable. But it's not something I'm willing to change, even if I could, because my existentialism is the engine that gives my life meaning. When you don't believe in God, you should still believe in something. For me it's the terrifying and exhilarating thought that life is an IKEA cabinet -- you build it yourself.
*
These thoughts are always very pressing to me in the fall, because fall is my favorite season and because the nature of its beauty is change and death.
Very often I see songs in colors, although I don't know if that's an aspect of my reaction to the song or whether it's something more mundane like the color of the album cover or the dress I was wearing when I heard it one time.
This song that I am about to play is a very beautiful color, reddish-brown. Like an autumn evening.
The song: Rod Stewart, "Maggie May"; 1971
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
A Change of Key Will Let You Out: "Strange Overtones"
David Byrne is really doing it for me right now.
This morning as I did my radio show, I found his album Here Lies Love and experienced a gradual dawning of increasingly exciting revelations:
1. It's a disco/club album by David Byrne and Fatboy Slim.
2. Not only is it a disco/club album by David Byrne and Fatboy Slim, it features guest vocalists ranging from Cyndi Lauper to Tori Amos to Florence (of the Machine).
3. Not only is it a disco/club album etc etc etc. . .it's a DISCO OPERA!
4. Not only is it a DISCO OPERA, it's a disco opera about the rise and fall of Imelda Marcos!
Needless to say, I purchased it on CD immediately. . .and have spent the rest of the day in what I will admit is a little bit of a post-excitement hangover. I only have so much capacity for excitement in one day, a sad truth I will never fully realize in the moment it seems. My grandma had a hilarious story about the family dachshund visiting the family farm, finding somehow an entire cow's worth of cow-fat, and eating her weight of it and more. They found her in the field, and I'm not sure if this is the story or my embellishment of it, but I always picture the dachshund unable to walk because her stomach had distended further than her legs.
Well, I am a dog in my personality, and in this I am no different from a dog. When presented with something that is aesthetically pleasing to me, I will eat it until my legs can't carry me any more.
But I am pleased to have used this capacity on Here Lies Love, because it represents not only what is compelling to me about David Byrne at the moment but also something that is compelling to me in general.
Which is to say, the combination of strangeness and passion, which Mr. Byrne does so well -- which he seems unable to not do.
*
The song: David Byrne and Brian Eno, "Strange Overtones"; 2008
This song is not from Here Lies Love, which is still too new to me, but from David Byrne's collaboration with Brian Eno, Everything That Happens Will Happen Today.
But I'm posting it because it's good, and also because it thematically sums up what I am trying to say. David Byrne's music is comforting to me right now because it's unexpected (he always seems to come at music at a right angle from where most others do) but it still sounds appealing. So often strangeness comes with unpleasantness. Or not unpleasantness so much as, deliberate offputting-ness.
While I recognize the artistic value of deliberate offputting-ness much more than I did even a year ago, I also know myself well enough to know it's not my taste and probably never will be. I like to be welcomed in and to welcome music in. I like things to be beautiful and good. (That may seem like an obvious statement, but it's a taste just as much as anything else is a taste -- this much I have learned at least from a year's time at a college radio station, where I went in turning my nose up at music that I found ugly. I try not to do that any more.)
A few months ago I had the thought that I would sincerely like my tombstone to say, "Here Lies AW, Crushed By A Wall of Sound". It sounds flippant but it is true.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
This morning as I did my radio show, I found his album Here Lies Love and experienced a gradual dawning of increasingly exciting revelations:
1. It's a disco/club album by David Byrne and Fatboy Slim.
2. Not only is it a disco/club album by David Byrne and Fatboy Slim, it features guest vocalists ranging from Cyndi Lauper to Tori Amos to Florence (of the Machine).
3. Not only is it a disco/club album etc etc etc. . .it's a DISCO OPERA!
4. Not only is it a DISCO OPERA, it's a disco opera about the rise and fall of Imelda Marcos!
Needless to say, I purchased it on CD immediately. . .and have spent the rest of the day in what I will admit is a little bit of a post-excitement hangover. I only have so much capacity for excitement in one day, a sad truth I will never fully realize in the moment it seems. My grandma had a hilarious story about the family dachshund visiting the family farm, finding somehow an entire cow's worth of cow-fat, and eating her weight of it and more. They found her in the field, and I'm not sure if this is the story or my embellishment of it, but I always picture the dachshund unable to walk because her stomach had distended further than her legs.
Well, I am a dog in my personality, and in this I am no different from a dog. When presented with something that is aesthetically pleasing to me, I will eat it until my legs can't carry me any more.
But I am pleased to have used this capacity on Here Lies Love, because it represents not only what is compelling to me about David Byrne at the moment but also something that is compelling to me in general.
Which is to say, the combination of strangeness and passion, which Mr. Byrne does so well -- which he seems unable to not do.
*
The song: David Byrne and Brian Eno, "Strange Overtones"; 2008
This song is not from Here Lies Love, which is still too new to me, but from David Byrne's collaboration with Brian Eno, Everything That Happens Will Happen Today.
But I'm posting it because it's good, and also because it thematically sums up what I am trying to say. David Byrne's music is comforting to me right now because it's unexpected (he always seems to come at music at a right angle from where most others do) but it still sounds appealing. So often strangeness comes with unpleasantness. Or not unpleasantness so much as, deliberate offputting-ness.
While I recognize the artistic value of deliberate offputting-ness much more than I did even a year ago, I also know myself well enough to know it's not my taste and probably never will be. I like to be welcomed in and to welcome music in. I like things to be beautiful and good. (That may seem like an obvious statement, but it's a taste just as much as anything else is a taste -- this much I have learned at least from a year's time at a college radio station, where I went in turning my nose up at music that I found ugly. I try not to do that any more.)
A few months ago I had the thought that I would sincerely like my tombstone to say, "Here Lies AW, Crushed By A Wall of Sound". It sounds flippant but it is true.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Can't You See It's We Who Own The Night: Stop
Although this blog is generally what I would describe as "aggressively UN-topical", I'm going to veer into the current for a second.
You may have heard that Miley Cyrus performed at the VMAs this Sunday. You may have heard this from pretty much every news outlet, mainstream and niche, feminist, socio-cultural, and otherwise.
I too have heard this.
One overarching theme I have noticed in coverage of this event is the complete dismissal of the song she was actually performing: her new single, "We Can't Stop". I've seen it described as "inoffensive", "fluffy", "the party anthem of the summer" (PSHHHHHHHHHHHH), etc. The bulk of analytical energy has been focused on Miley Cyrus' dancing, the staging of her performance, her use (or appropriation, depending who you ask) of working-class black culture, and so forth.
(I'd like to see a little more ink spilled on the subject of her teeth, though, like does she actually have more teeth than the average person or is that just an optical illusion?)
While I appreciate the importance of this cultural criticism, I can't dismiss this song.
BECAUSE I HATE IT.
*
So in this blog I try to showcase the songs that I really love and am attracted to, because that's just a nicer way of life than the alternative. I fear this -- and my general enthusiasm for artists like Meatloaf, Elton John, and the Backstreet Boys -- could potentially lead to the notion that I have no taste or discernment in matters of popular music. That I think everything "bad"* is good.
In fact this is not true; although I'm not sure what kind of taste or discernment I DO have, I can tell that it is definitely there.
(*Would like to clarify that I don't think Meatloaf, Elton John, OR the Backstreet Boys are "bad". I love all those guys!)
The way I can tell it is there is the sinking feeling of irritation and sadness produced by an actually bad pop song. By which I mean one that is cynical, and soulless, and produced for crass reasons like MAKING MONEY instead of for the SHEER JOY OF HUMAN EXPRESSION. (I never said I wasn't naive. I am.)
I think it's fair to say that an irritating pop song actually gets my goat more than it does the goat of an average person, because I love and think about pop music so much more than the average person (or so I am told). Great pop music gets to me in a way very little else does. And I believe so truly and passionately in the power of popular music to inspire, to connect, and to elucidate the most basic values of human existence that when I see this power perverted it makes me angry and depressed.
*
The song: Miley Cyrus, "We Can't Stop"; 2013
1. Deep-voiced spoken word intro just invites comparisons to Prince. Don't invite comparisons to Prince unless you're ready for it. (Miley Cyrus, in my opinion, is not.)
2. The self-referential shout-outs to people who are actually in the club dancing to "We Can't Stop" in the moment are clever, but done better by this song's contemporary, "Crazy Kids" by Ke$ha.
3. A positive: "Can't you see it's we who own the night" is good grammar AND it sounds good to boot. Credit where credit is due!
4. What is the deal with this trend of songs with the message that we should all dance until we die? Is anybody really asking the young kids to stop dancing and having fun, really? Why say "We can't stop, we won't stop"? This song is so insistent that "we" can do whatever we want, kiss whoever we want, dance however we want. Well, sure we can -- free will! Is that news?
5. Seems minor, is actually the crux of my issue with this song and with many things: "hands in the air like we don't care". First of all, it's meaningless and over-used. Secondly. . .
I guess what I am saying, in this and in everything, is that if I ruled the world all the pop songs would tell us to put our hands in the air like we care, A LOT. To me it seems a nicer way of life than the alternative.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
You may have heard that Miley Cyrus performed at the VMAs this Sunday. You may have heard this from pretty much every news outlet, mainstream and niche, feminist, socio-cultural, and otherwise.
I too have heard this.
One overarching theme I have noticed in coverage of this event is the complete dismissal of the song she was actually performing: her new single, "We Can't Stop". I've seen it described as "inoffensive", "fluffy", "the party anthem of the summer" (PSHHHHHHHHHHHH), etc. The bulk of analytical energy has been focused on Miley Cyrus' dancing, the staging of her performance, her use (or appropriation, depending who you ask) of working-class black culture, and so forth.
(I'd like to see a little more ink spilled on the subject of her teeth, though, like does she actually have more teeth than the average person or is that just an optical illusion?)
While I appreciate the importance of this cultural criticism, I can't dismiss this song.
BECAUSE I HATE IT.
*
So in this blog I try to showcase the songs that I really love and am attracted to, because that's just a nicer way of life than the alternative. I fear this -- and my general enthusiasm for artists like Meatloaf, Elton John, and the Backstreet Boys -- could potentially lead to the notion that I have no taste or discernment in matters of popular music. That I think everything "bad"* is good.
In fact this is not true; although I'm not sure what kind of taste or discernment I DO have, I can tell that it is definitely there.
(*Would like to clarify that I don't think Meatloaf, Elton John, OR the Backstreet Boys are "bad". I love all those guys!)
The way I can tell it is there is the sinking feeling of irritation and sadness produced by an actually bad pop song. By which I mean one that is cynical, and soulless, and produced for crass reasons like MAKING MONEY instead of for the SHEER JOY OF HUMAN EXPRESSION. (I never said I wasn't naive. I am.)
I think it's fair to say that an irritating pop song actually gets my goat more than it does the goat of an average person, because I love and think about pop music so much more than the average person (or so I am told). Great pop music gets to me in a way very little else does. And I believe so truly and passionately in the power of popular music to inspire, to connect, and to elucidate the most basic values of human existence that when I see this power perverted it makes me angry and depressed.
*
The song: Miley Cyrus, "We Can't Stop"; 2013
1. Deep-voiced spoken word intro just invites comparisons to Prince. Don't invite comparisons to Prince unless you're ready for it. (Miley Cyrus, in my opinion, is not.)
2. The self-referential shout-outs to people who are actually in the club dancing to "We Can't Stop" in the moment are clever, but done better by this song's contemporary, "Crazy Kids" by Ke$ha.
3. A positive: "Can't you see it's we who own the night" is good grammar AND it sounds good to boot. Credit where credit is due!
4. What is the deal with this trend of songs with the message that we should all dance until we die? Is anybody really asking the young kids to stop dancing and having fun, really? Why say "We can't stop, we won't stop"? This song is so insistent that "we" can do whatever we want, kiss whoever we want, dance however we want. Well, sure we can -- free will! Is that news?
5. Seems minor, is actually the crux of my issue with this song and with many things: "hands in the air like we don't care". First of all, it's meaningless and over-used. Secondly. . .
I guess what I am saying, in this and in everything, is that if I ruled the world all the pop songs would tell us to put our hands in the air like we care, A LOT. To me it seems a nicer way of life than the alternative.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
The Past is Gone But Something Might Be Found To Take Its Place: "Hey Jealousy"
Recently, for a reason that is boring, I was faced with the knowledge of what is the very first song I ever purchased from iTunes.
It's "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" by The Proclaimers.
Welllllllllll I don't want to read too much into that, but along with the knowledge of the first song came the knowledge of the second song:
The song: Gin Blossoms, "Hey Jealousy"; 1992
There's not too much to read into that either other than, hey remember this song and how it's kinda good?
Just wanted to point that out.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
It's "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" by The Proclaimers.
Welllllllllll I don't want to read too much into that, but along with the knowledge of the first song came the knowledge of the second song:
The song: Gin Blossoms, "Hey Jealousy"; 1992
There's not too much to read into that either other than, hey remember this song and how it's kinda good?
Just wanted to point that out.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Monday, August 5, 2013
We Got The Gift of Melody, We Gonna Bring It Till The End: "Pop"
Things that have happened to me recently:
1. Two viewings in one week of the 2010 future-cult-classic film Burlesque starring Cher and Christina Aguilera.
2. A conversation about the (we would imagine) seductive power of being a DJ and being able to make people dance with the songs you play.
3. A Backstreet Boys concert. (Yes, in 2013. I can't talk about it yet. It's still processing.)
Which has made me think a lot about a few things:
1. Why do I love Cher so much?
2. What is pop music and what does it mean to be interested in it?
3. What, in music, is appealing?
I'm also trying to figure out how to be a person who is interested in pop music and knows a lot about it (mostly by virtue of near-constant immersion in it, and that itself by virtue of an obsessive personality) without being either a) a self-absorbed flake or b) a bitchy know-it-all. Both of those are in me, but that doesn't mean I like it when they show.
In any case, some of these various threads come together in my ongoing fantasy of DJing a super-cool party filled with cool people and killing it with this song, which is a comment on the value of pop music:
The song: *NSYNC, "Pop"; 2001
More soon.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
1. Two viewings in one week of the 2010 future-cult-classic film Burlesque starring Cher and Christina Aguilera.
2. A conversation about the (we would imagine) seductive power of being a DJ and being able to make people dance with the songs you play.
3. A Backstreet Boys concert. (Yes, in 2013. I can't talk about it yet. It's still processing.)
Which has made me think a lot about a few things:
1. Why do I love Cher so much?
2. What is pop music and what does it mean to be interested in it?
3. What, in music, is appealing?
I'm also trying to figure out how to be a person who is interested in pop music and knows a lot about it (mostly by virtue of near-constant immersion in it, and that itself by virtue of an obsessive personality) without being either a) a self-absorbed flake or b) a bitchy know-it-all. Both of those are in me, but that doesn't mean I like it when they show.
In any case, some of these various threads come together in my ongoing fantasy of DJing a super-cool party filled with cool people and killing it with this song, which is a comment on the value of pop music:
The song: *NSYNC, "Pop"; 2001
More soon.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
We Belong To The Sound Of The Words We've Both Fallen Under: A Dedication
Do you believe in coincidences?
I sure do. There are a lot of them in this life. Some of them even seem to make patterns. But it's all in the interpretation.
*
It's a coincidence that this song has come on several times in the last weeks when I've been feeling blue and down.
It's an expected coincidence because a) I've been feeling blue and down a lot these past weeks* and b) I've also been listening to a lot of music from the 1980s because it's interesting to hear what I think are the roots of today's super-hot electronic music phase. (Or EDM, if that's what you have to call it to convince yourself you're not a dweeb/"electronic music fan". But you're a dweeb. We all are. Just embrace it.)
Like for instance the song that just came on as I was typing this was "Kyrie" by Mr. Mister (a band most often seen these days in a Train lyric).
Take a listen to that if you will and tell me it doesn't sound a little familiar, but in the way that feels really great.
*
*It always makes me feel a bit self-conscious to type something like that. It's strange, staring at the face of what remains of what we'd call the "stigma about mental illness" -- more precisely, the prohibition against admitting, except in very specific ways, that you are unhappy.
Maybe it's because I live alone. Sometimes in this life you just need to say something out loud.
*
AND THEN THE NEXT SONG WAS "What's Love Got To Do With It". Now THAT song is a classic and I will hear no opposition. 1984.
*
So as I was saying, this song has come on a lot lately when I've been feeling too alone.
Like a little sprite that just pops up and says, "Hey! This song is pretty fun, isn't it?". Just to say, you're not actually alone.
And if I had to name this sprite, I would name it. . .Cecilia.
(This is a dedication. We do that sometimes.)
The song: Pat Benatar, "We Belong"; also 1984
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
I sure do. There are a lot of them in this life. Some of them even seem to make patterns. But it's all in the interpretation.
*
It's a coincidence that this song has come on several times in the last weeks when I've been feeling blue and down.
It's an expected coincidence because a) I've been feeling blue and down a lot these past weeks* and b) I've also been listening to a lot of music from the 1980s because it's interesting to hear what I think are the roots of today's super-hot electronic music phase. (Or EDM, if that's what you have to call it to convince yourself you're not a dweeb/"electronic music fan". But you're a dweeb. We all are. Just embrace it.)
Like for instance the song that just came on as I was typing this was "Kyrie" by Mr. Mister (a band most often seen these days in a Train lyric).
Take a listen to that if you will and tell me it doesn't sound a little familiar, but in the way that feels really great.
*
*It always makes me feel a bit self-conscious to type something like that. It's strange, staring at the face of what remains of what we'd call the "stigma about mental illness" -- more precisely, the prohibition against admitting, except in very specific ways, that you are unhappy.
Maybe it's because I live alone. Sometimes in this life you just need to say something out loud.
*
AND THEN THE NEXT SONG WAS "What's Love Got To Do With It". Now THAT song is a classic and I will hear no opposition. 1984.
*
So as I was saying, this song has come on a lot lately when I've been feeling too alone.
Like a little sprite that just pops up and says, "Hey! This song is pretty fun, isn't it?". Just to say, you're not actually alone.
And if I had to name this sprite, I would name it. . .Cecilia.
(This is a dedication. We do that sometimes.)
The song: Pat Benatar, "We Belong"; also 1984
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Thursday, July 18, 2013
A Place Where You and I Could Sing This Song: The Same Side Of A Different Coin
I like a theory. I'm always working on a few, mostly ridiculous, ones. Like for a long time I had this whole matrix of food choices that was supposed to say something about your personality (Wheat Thins vs. Triscuits, spearmint gum vs. peppermint gum etc), and while I am not willing to abandon this entirely, I'm also open to a few more theories of personality and humanity.
(Actually if you want to know the truth right now I think the fundamental division in life is between cat people and dog people, but that's a bit outside the scope of this blog.)
The other night, with the help of my dear friend Cecilia, I had a brain-flash of another theory. It's called, tentatively, the Depeche Mode - Erasure Theory Of Life Balance. And this is what it is.
*
The song: Depeche Mode, "Shake The Disease"; 1985
To start with, here's one of my favorite Depeche Mode songs, which I also feel is pretty representative of them in general. (Incidentally, it was my dad who gave me the tip that Depeche Mode is great music to work out to, and he was so right!)
I really enjoy Depeche Mode but nobody can deny that their music is dark. Which is part of why I love them. The songs are hard-driving and multi-layered, the vocals are melancholy, and the lyrics often refer to alienation, isolation, or other social maladies.
Depeche Mode are also considered to be one of the greatest electronic music acts of all time. If you don't believe me check their Wikipedia page, which mentions that they've been included on several of those "50 Rock Acts We Really Like" sort of lists that rock criticism outlets just looooooooove to assemble. (But they never call it "50 Rock Acts We Really Like", do they? It's always "50 Greatest Rock Musicians OF ALL TIME" or "75 Bands Whose Like Has Never Been Seen Before Or Since In Any Known Universe". Hyperbolic. And meaningless, in my opinion. Why does everything have to be ranked and numbered?)
In any case, I'm not arguing that Depeche Mode's popularity and renown are not well-deserved, because I love them as much as the next person who owns a black trench coat.
What I am saying is, every yin needs a yang.
*
The song: Erasure, "Take Me Back"; 1994
This song is from Erasure's 1994 album I Say I Say I Say, which was released a few years after Erasure had hit its prime in the opinion of many rock criticism outlets. I bought it on CD from the Zen Buddhist Temple yard sale back in September and have been enjoying it ever since. It's an excellent album, particularly if you like electro-pop.
Erasure, I should mention, is the project partly of Vince Clarke, who was a founding member of Depeche Mode. He is a keyboardist/synthesizer-er and songwriter. (The other half of the duo is Andy Bell.)
I have a weakness for artists releasing albums once they're "past their prime", because to me it shows that the artist has a certain level of "don't give a damn". (Which is a quality I admire and respect.) Even if it is critically or commercially not successful, the music still goes out there to influence and entertain the general populace. And who knows! Maybe one of the general populace is about to form his or her own electro-pop band that will carry the DNA of this album forward. That's one of the coolest things about music.
"Take Me Back" is the first track off I Say I Say I Say, and what I just LOVE about it is that it starts really quiet. When I listen I always think "man this is too quiet, I gotta turn it up!" and then I turn it up, and then that moment where the song bursts into life (around 0:35) it just nails me to the wall. That is clever. That is a really cool way to start an album, and it's a good use of technology. (Music struggles with that sometimes.)
What's also notable about Erasure is that their music tends to be on the less-tortured side than Depeche Mode's. While there are many undercurrents of yearning and isolation in the songs, Erasure's music is known for its pop-y sparkle. (They released an EP entirely of ABBA covers, need I say more?)
I think the music of Erasure is more sheerly beautiful than the music of Depeche Mode although I enjoy both bands very much. Erasure inspires feelings of warmth, happiness, and appreciation in me rather than stoking my persistent fire of anger, melancholy, and loneliness.
It's all about balance.
*
What I mostly mean to suggest here is that it's necessary to have elements of both Erasure and Depeche Mode in your life, for whatever that means to you. The outlet and the window to the darker side that Depeche Mode provides is very valuable, but it can't be overdone. Sometimes, music should take you away.
I also think it is interesting that Depeche Mode is the band that has attracted much more attention and many more cookies from what I can't seem to stop referring to as the "rock criticism outlets" although I know it makes me sound like a conspiracy theorist. It makes me wonder if there is something about darkness that we perceive to be inherently more serious than lightness.
I really feel that to be true, and I feel strongly that it's a destructive and limiting mindset. It reminds me of a great line from Nick Hornby's classic of the music-writing genre, High Fidelity: "Did I listen to so much pop music because I was miserable, or was I miserable because I listened to so much pop music?"
There is something to be said for the idea that like increases like, and that miserableness in music feeds the miserableness of the soul. It's also true that miserableness seeks an outlet, which it can often find in pop music.
But what if you, like me, are tired of feeling miserableness? That's what the Erasure side of life is for. You can take that seriously too.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
(Actually if you want to know the truth right now I think the fundamental division in life is between cat people and dog people, but that's a bit outside the scope of this blog.)
The other night, with the help of my dear friend Cecilia, I had a brain-flash of another theory. It's called, tentatively, the Depeche Mode - Erasure Theory Of Life Balance. And this is what it is.
*
The song: Depeche Mode, "Shake The Disease"; 1985
To start with, here's one of my favorite Depeche Mode songs, which I also feel is pretty representative of them in general. (Incidentally, it was my dad who gave me the tip that Depeche Mode is great music to work out to, and he was so right!)
I really enjoy Depeche Mode but nobody can deny that their music is dark. Which is part of why I love them. The songs are hard-driving and multi-layered, the vocals are melancholy, and the lyrics often refer to alienation, isolation, or other social maladies.
Depeche Mode are also considered to be one of the greatest electronic music acts of all time. If you don't believe me check their Wikipedia page, which mentions that they've been included on several of those "50 Rock Acts We Really Like" sort of lists that rock criticism outlets just looooooooove to assemble. (But they never call it "50 Rock Acts We Really Like", do they? It's always "50 Greatest Rock Musicians OF ALL TIME" or "75 Bands Whose Like Has Never Been Seen Before Or Since In Any Known Universe". Hyperbolic. And meaningless, in my opinion. Why does everything have to be ranked and numbered?)
In any case, I'm not arguing that Depeche Mode's popularity and renown are not well-deserved, because I love them as much as the next person who owns a black trench coat.
What I am saying is, every yin needs a yang.
*
The song: Erasure, "Take Me Back"; 1994
This song is from Erasure's 1994 album I Say I Say I Say, which was released a few years after Erasure had hit its prime in the opinion of many rock criticism outlets. I bought it on CD from the Zen Buddhist Temple yard sale back in September and have been enjoying it ever since. It's an excellent album, particularly if you like electro-pop.
Erasure, I should mention, is the project partly of Vince Clarke, who was a founding member of Depeche Mode. He is a keyboardist/synthesizer-er and songwriter. (The other half of the duo is Andy Bell.)
I have a weakness for artists releasing albums once they're "past their prime", because to me it shows that the artist has a certain level of "don't give a damn". (Which is a quality I admire and respect.) Even if it is critically or commercially not successful, the music still goes out there to influence and entertain the general populace. And who knows! Maybe one of the general populace is about to form his or her own electro-pop band that will carry the DNA of this album forward. That's one of the coolest things about music.
"Take Me Back" is the first track off I Say I Say I Say, and what I just LOVE about it is that it starts really quiet. When I listen I always think "man this is too quiet, I gotta turn it up!" and then I turn it up, and then that moment where the song bursts into life (around 0:35) it just nails me to the wall. That is clever. That is a really cool way to start an album, and it's a good use of technology. (Music struggles with that sometimes.)
What's also notable about Erasure is that their music tends to be on the less-tortured side than Depeche Mode's. While there are many undercurrents of yearning and isolation in the songs, Erasure's music is known for its pop-y sparkle. (They released an EP entirely of ABBA covers, need I say more?)
I think the music of Erasure is more sheerly beautiful than the music of Depeche Mode although I enjoy both bands very much. Erasure inspires feelings of warmth, happiness, and appreciation in me rather than stoking my persistent fire of anger, melancholy, and loneliness.
It's all about balance.
*
What I mostly mean to suggest here is that it's necessary to have elements of both Erasure and Depeche Mode in your life, for whatever that means to you. The outlet and the window to the darker side that Depeche Mode provides is very valuable, but it can't be overdone. Sometimes, music should take you away.
I also think it is interesting that Depeche Mode is the band that has attracted much more attention and many more cookies from what I can't seem to stop referring to as the "rock criticism outlets" although I know it makes me sound like a conspiracy theorist. It makes me wonder if there is something about darkness that we perceive to be inherently more serious than lightness.
I really feel that to be true, and I feel strongly that it's a destructive and limiting mindset. It reminds me of a great line from Nick Hornby's classic of the music-writing genre, High Fidelity: "Did I listen to so much pop music because I was miserable, or was I miserable because I listened to so much pop music?"
There is something to be said for the idea that like increases like, and that miserableness in music feeds the miserableness of the soul. It's also true that miserableness seeks an outlet, which it can often find in pop music.
But what if you, like me, are tired of feeling miserableness? That's what the Erasure side of life is for. You can take that seriously too.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
It's Something That Just Gets Down In Your Bones: Al Green Explores Your Mind
I think I may be a silicon-based organism, because my mind just does not work very well in the heat.
But here's a good song! It's off the album Al Green Explores Your Mind, which held the distinction of "my new favorite album title" for about a week until it was knocked off by Everybody Hertz (by Air.)
Haha. Everybody hertz. Teehee.
Told ya my brain's not at its best right now.
*
The song: Al Green, "Sha-La-La (Make Me Happy); 1974
Totally worth it for that zip-zip-zip sound.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
But here's a good song! It's off the album Al Green Explores Your Mind, which held the distinction of "my new favorite album title" for about a week until it was knocked off by Everybody Hertz (by Air.)
Haha. Everybody hertz. Teehee.
Told ya my brain's not at its best right now.
*
The song: Al Green, "Sha-La-La (Make Me Happy); 1974
Totally worth it for that zip-zip-zip sound.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Let's Make The Best Of This Situation Before I Finally Go Insane: "Layla"
I hope we can all agree that Eric Clapton's (or Derek and the Dominos if you want to get pedantic) "Layla" is an amazing song.
It's got all the things: technical complexity and innovation, more than enough emotion to go around, and a backstory encompassing several grand figures of rock history.
It has several versions, including the studio original of 1971 and the Unplugged of 1993. (I'm not going to weigh in on which is better except to say, ORIGINAL RULES ACOUSTIC VERSION DROOLS!!!!!!!!!!
ahem.
To be fair, I have a personal memory of the original version that makes it one of my favorite songs, period. It was a beautiful October day and I was driving through Pennsylvania with a good friend and we were driving much too fast. It's a hard one to beat.)
It's also been recorded live a number of times, although it is apparently notoriously difficult to perform (which makes sense).
Here's one that went very well.
*
The song: Eric Clapton with Phil Collins, "Layla"; live at Live Aid 1985
In my not very humble opinion, this is GREAT. I mean you can feel the electricity when the first riff starts up, also it must be said that Clapton is looking pretty fly in that safari shirt.
As I've been watching this video over the past few days, my attention has gone to a perhaps unexpected corner: not Clapton, not Phil Collins, but the tambourine girl.
She's the girl (woman, really, but "tambourine woman" sounds too much like a Bob Dylan song for my comfort) wearing a dress and banging a tambourine. You can tell she is, like all the musicians on that stage, reallllllllly feelin' it -- otherwise the performance wouldn't work as well as it does. Everybody has to be in it together.
The tambourine girl is a common presence on the rock stage, and she's almost always wearing a dress. When I Googled "tambourine girl" the other day (I just bought a tambourine) most of the definitions were to the effect of "Girl on stage whose main purpose is to look cute and shake a tambourine. Usually somebody's girlfriend."
Well, I'm not going to deny that the meat of that is technically true, but my question is. . .what's so wrong with that? So much of rock music is essentially about men. What they want. What they don't have.
I don't have a problem with that. The danger is in supposing that women can't feel the same things men do. But, as "Layla" demonstrates, a truly great rock song (just like a truly great pop song) transcends the personal and becomes universal. ("Layla" is a particularly interesting example of that in my eyes because Clapton himself was re-telling a story from the Muslim world; the song, after all, is about George Harrison's wife but he didn't call it "Patti". Some would say thankfully.)
The issues of women-in-rock-music and sexism-in-rock-criticism often circle back to the real crazy rock chicks of this world, the ones out in front: Joan Jett. Chrissie Hynde. Debbie Harry. Grace Slick.
Those rock chicks are one thing, but they are not every thing. Just look at the tambourine girl.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
It's got all the things: technical complexity and innovation, more than enough emotion to go around, and a backstory encompassing several grand figures of rock history.
It has several versions, including the studio original of 1971 and the Unplugged of 1993. (I'm not going to weigh in on which is better except to say, ORIGINAL RULES ACOUSTIC VERSION DROOLS!!!!!!!!!!
ahem.
To be fair, I have a personal memory of the original version that makes it one of my favorite songs, period. It was a beautiful October day and I was driving through Pennsylvania with a good friend and we were driving much too fast. It's a hard one to beat.)
It's also been recorded live a number of times, although it is apparently notoriously difficult to perform (which makes sense).
Here's one that went very well.
*
The song: Eric Clapton with Phil Collins, "Layla"; live at Live Aid 1985
In my not very humble opinion, this is GREAT. I mean you can feel the electricity when the first riff starts up, also it must be said that Clapton is looking pretty fly in that safari shirt.
As I've been watching this video over the past few days, my attention has gone to a perhaps unexpected corner: not Clapton, not Phil Collins, but the tambourine girl.
She's the girl (woman, really, but "tambourine woman" sounds too much like a Bob Dylan song for my comfort) wearing a dress and banging a tambourine. You can tell she is, like all the musicians on that stage, reallllllllly feelin' it -- otherwise the performance wouldn't work as well as it does. Everybody has to be in it together.
The tambourine girl is a common presence on the rock stage, and she's almost always wearing a dress. When I Googled "tambourine girl" the other day (I just bought a tambourine) most of the definitions were to the effect of "Girl on stage whose main purpose is to look cute and shake a tambourine. Usually somebody's girlfriend."
Well, I'm not going to deny that the meat of that is technically true, but my question is. . .what's so wrong with that? So much of rock music is essentially about men. What they want. What they don't have.
I don't have a problem with that. The danger is in supposing that women can't feel the same things men do. But, as "Layla" demonstrates, a truly great rock song (just like a truly great pop song) transcends the personal and becomes universal. ("Layla" is a particularly interesting example of that in my eyes because Clapton himself was re-telling a story from the Muslim world; the song, after all, is about George Harrison's wife but he didn't call it "Patti". Some would say thankfully.)
The issues of women-in-rock-music and sexism-in-rock-criticism often circle back to the real crazy rock chicks of this world, the ones out in front: Joan Jett. Chrissie Hynde. Debbie Harry. Grace Slick.
Those rock chicks are one thing, but they are not every thing. Just look at the tambourine girl.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Friday, July 5, 2013
We Sang Every Song That Driver Knew: More America
Because I've been mulling over American songs this past week, I thought I'd share two more classics of the genre.
Incidentally, they are both in that strange category of "posthumous number one singles" which always bear an undeniable poignancy. (Particularly when you think about the actual content of both of these songs. Personally, I've heard both of them so much over my life that I almost can't hear them anymore. But when I give the same attention to these songs as I would to an entirely new-to-me song, I hear them again for what they are. [Glorious.])
(Previously: Arlo Guthrie, "City of New Orleans"; Kenny Rogers, "The Gambler")
*
The song: Janis Joplin, "Me and Bobby McGee"; 1971
The song: Otis Redding, "(Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay"; 1968
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Incidentally, they are both in that strange category of "posthumous number one singles" which always bear an undeniable poignancy. (Particularly when you think about the actual content of both of these songs. Personally, I've heard both of them so much over my life that I almost can't hear them anymore. But when I give the same attention to these songs as I would to an entirely new-to-me song, I hear them again for what they are. [Glorious.])
(Previously: Arlo Guthrie, "City of New Orleans"; Kenny Rogers, "The Gambler")
*
The song: Janis Joplin, "Me and Bobby McGee"; 1971
The song: Otis Redding, "(Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay"; 1968
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Monday, July 1, 2013
You Never Count Your Money When You're Sittin at the Table: Our Country
Hello all.
It's been a long time since I posted an entry here, which I will largely blame on the fact that I have been doing too much reading and watching too much TV -- and THAT I will largely blame on the fact that, as I occasionally need to do for my own health, I have been endeavoring to turn outward.
The TV show I have been watching is The West Wing, which is the most impressively-written TV show I have ever experienced.
It makes me think a lot about what it means to be an American, because everyone on that show is so unflinchingly patriotic AND educated AND liberal, and that's not something you see a lot of these days.
Being that I am also educated and liberal, and also patriotic, it's therapeutic for me in many ways. Thinking of myself as patriotic feels a little strange, to be honest with you. But the fact of the matter is, I spend so much of my time thinking about the ups and downs of American culture, and you just don't spend that much time thinking about what you don't love.
On my father's side I am extremely American, in the sense that I could join the Daughters of the American Revolution if I really wanted to (I've never understood why I would want to). On my mother's side I am also extremely American, in the sense that her family were immigrants.
But I grew up in Oregon, which is as distant from the East Coast as the East Coast is from Europe, so the particular events and iconography of American-ness slipped my notice a bit.
So the other night when my episode of The West Wing panned out on a shot of the Oval Office, I found myself thinking it was a beautiful place to symbolize the heart of our country -- a place that just looks like a very genteel person's living room. Particularly when compared with the grandness and circumstance of many of Europe's still-existing monarchies (another interest of mine), it's refreshingly direct.
It's all got me thinking about what the essence of American-ness is, and it's (you will be completely unsurprised to learn) been hard to pin down. So I have turned. . .to song.
(Previously: "City of New Orleans" on Election Day)
*
The song: Kenny Rogers, "The Gambler"; 1978
Find me an American who does not know this song.
"The secret to surviving is knowing what to throw away and knowing what to keep." For all its camp factor, you could say this song about is about independence of mind and self-determination.
I'll drink to that!
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
It's been a long time since I posted an entry here, which I will largely blame on the fact that I have been doing too much reading and watching too much TV -- and THAT I will largely blame on the fact that, as I occasionally need to do for my own health, I have been endeavoring to turn outward.
The TV show I have been watching is The West Wing, which is the most impressively-written TV show I have ever experienced.
It makes me think a lot about what it means to be an American, because everyone on that show is so unflinchingly patriotic AND educated AND liberal, and that's not something you see a lot of these days.
Being that I am also educated and liberal, and also patriotic, it's therapeutic for me in many ways. Thinking of myself as patriotic feels a little strange, to be honest with you. But the fact of the matter is, I spend so much of my time thinking about the ups and downs of American culture, and you just don't spend that much time thinking about what you don't love.
On my father's side I am extremely American, in the sense that I could join the Daughters of the American Revolution if I really wanted to (I've never understood why I would want to). On my mother's side I am also extremely American, in the sense that her family were immigrants.
But I grew up in Oregon, which is as distant from the East Coast as the East Coast is from Europe, so the particular events and iconography of American-ness slipped my notice a bit.
So the other night when my episode of The West Wing panned out on a shot of the Oval Office, I found myself thinking it was a beautiful place to symbolize the heart of our country -- a place that just looks like a very genteel person's living room. Particularly when compared with the grandness and circumstance of many of Europe's still-existing monarchies (another interest of mine), it's refreshingly direct.
It's all got me thinking about what the essence of American-ness is, and it's (you will be completely unsurprised to learn) been hard to pin down. So I have turned. . .to song.
(Previously: "City of New Orleans" on Election Day)
*
The song: Kenny Rogers, "The Gambler"; 1978
Find me an American who does not know this song.
"The secret to surviving is knowing what to throw away and knowing what to keep." For all its camp factor, you could say this song about is about independence of mind and self-determination.
I'll drink to that!
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
And I Can't Pretend That That Doesn't Mean A Thing To Me: "#Beautiful"
Like I said in this post with this Sam Cooke song, some songs are to get the party started and some are to keep an existing party going. Cruising songs, one might say.
This is in the latter category and I just love it. It sounds like misty water-colored memories and also like right the fuck now. It makes me want to find a mint-green convertible and drive away in it.
The song: Mariah Carey ft. Miguel, "#Beautiful"; 2013
*
I'll even forgive the silly use of the hashtag there (there is no reason for a hashtag in that title other than to be "hip" and "current") because I find the absurdity of it somewhat beautiful in and of itself.
I think I might be obsessed with beauty and absurdity, because everything and everybody I love is one or the other or both. I can think of worse fixations.
(By the way, this song is technically a Mariah Carey song featuring Miguel, but I think it sounds like him and he's the one who's really carrying it [no disrespect intended to Mimi]. If you're unfamiliar with Miguel, he's a singer and songwriter with a real knack for writing intelligent love songs. Two more of my favorites: "Adorn", and "Sure Thing".)
Please enjoy. I do.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
This is in the latter category and I just love it. It sounds like misty water-colored memories and also like right the fuck now. It makes me want to find a mint-green convertible and drive away in it.
The song: Mariah Carey ft. Miguel, "#Beautiful"; 2013
*
I'll even forgive the silly use of the hashtag there (there is no reason for a hashtag in that title other than to be "hip" and "current") because I find the absurdity of it somewhat beautiful in and of itself.
I think I might be obsessed with beauty and absurdity, because everything and everybody I love is one or the other or both. I can think of worse fixations.
(By the way, this song is technically a Mariah Carey song featuring Miguel, but I think it sounds like him and he's the one who's really carrying it [no disrespect intended to Mimi]. If you're unfamiliar with Miguel, he's a singer and songwriter with a real knack for writing intelligent love songs. Two more of my favorites: "Adorn", and "Sure Thing".)
Please enjoy. I do.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Monday, June 17, 2013
Baby Are You Down Down Down Down Down: Summer
Summer is the best time for pop music.
In fact I would even venture to say that it is THE time for pop music, and pop music at all other times of the year is just trying to recreate the feeling of summer.
I should clarify my terms: in this case I mean "pop music" as in the stuff of the current day (and oh what a day it is currently).
I've thought about why summer is the best time for pop music and I think it's because summer is the season of the body, while winter is the season of the mind. Summer weather, whether it be pleasant or terribly terribly humid (my own kryptonite), irretrievably reminds us that we are physical beings and that those physical beings need attention and care.
So that's why summer is the season of pop: because you're not supposed to think, you're just supposed to move.
*
I've said before that I don't think there should be such a thing as a guilty pleasure song, but let me tell you about this thing I do. Sometimes I say something that even I think is too extreme for how I actually feel, but I just say it and hope my reasons will fill in behind it. That works occasionally but other times, mleh.
So yes, I understand why people have guilty pleasure songs but for me personally I can't hide what songs I like because otherwise what am I even doing here?
That's why I'm going to tell you today about one of my favorites in a genre that, for all of us, is extremely personal by design: the songs we work out to.
I am intrigued by this genre because it's one of the few that has no infusion of ego. It's private, and meant to motivate you at a vulnerable time, and meant to be sheerly enjoyable. So I think you can tell a lot about someone by what they like to listen to when they work out, and I've never been less than charmed by this knowledge of another person.
Here's one of mine:
The song: Jay Sean ft. Lil Wayne, "Down"; 2009
You have to admit it is catchy as hell.
*
Other things I like about this song:
1. Lil Wayne: Like many rappers, Lil Wayne looks super tough but is, I suspect, about as actually tough as a toasting marshmallow. And his verse on this is so short and weird that it's hard to even process that it's him before it's over. My favorite lines: "got me look like baby Cupid shootin' arrows from above" (see previous point about toughness) and "And honestly I'm down like that economy" (which, points for topicality I suppose? but not many points for clarity, WAYNE.)
2. It's all about wanting to actually do things and having an adventurous spirit. Which is something I have struggled with in the past, but that I increasingly see is probably one of the most important ingredients of a happy life. This revelation was really hammered home for me when I caught Up on TV over the weekend. But then AFTER I watched Up I did go out and ended up being whistled at at 2 in the morning by a biker gang which is just one of those things that I never knew how much I wanted to happen to me until it happened to me. So, lesson learned, Pixar. Lesson learned. And when I work out I see it as training for the general adventure that is life, hence the connection to exercise with this song.
Makes sense? Does this topic intrigue you as well? I always welcome comments and stories over e-mail.
I hope it is beautifully summery where you are too.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
In fact I would even venture to say that it is THE time for pop music, and pop music at all other times of the year is just trying to recreate the feeling of summer.
I should clarify my terms: in this case I mean "pop music" as in the stuff of the current day (and oh what a day it is currently).
I've thought about why summer is the best time for pop music and I think it's because summer is the season of the body, while winter is the season of the mind. Summer weather, whether it be pleasant or terribly terribly humid (my own kryptonite), irretrievably reminds us that we are physical beings and that those physical beings need attention and care.
So that's why summer is the season of pop: because you're not supposed to think, you're just supposed to move.
*
I've said before that I don't think there should be such a thing as a guilty pleasure song, but let me tell you about this thing I do. Sometimes I say something that even I think is too extreme for how I actually feel, but I just say it and hope my reasons will fill in behind it. That works occasionally but other times, mleh.
So yes, I understand why people have guilty pleasure songs but for me personally I can't hide what songs I like because otherwise what am I even doing here?
That's why I'm going to tell you today about one of my favorites in a genre that, for all of us, is extremely personal by design: the songs we work out to.
I am intrigued by this genre because it's one of the few that has no infusion of ego. It's private, and meant to motivate you at a vulnerable time, and meant to be sheerly enjoyable. So I think you can tell a lot about someone by what they like to listen to when they work out, and I've never been less than charmed by this knowledge of another person.
Here's one of mine:
The song: Jay Sean ft. Lil Wayne, "Down"; 2009
You have to admit it is catchy as hell.
*
Other things I like about this song:
1. Lil Wayne: Like many rappers, Lil Wayne looks super tough but is, I suspect, about as actually tough as a toasting marshmallow. And his verse on this is so short and weird that it's hard to even process that it's him before it's over. My favorite lines: "got me look like baby Cupid shootin' arrows from above" (see previous point about toughness) and "And honestly I'm down like that economy" (which, points for topicality I suppose? but not many points for clarity, WAYNE.)
2. It's all about wanting to actually do things and having an adventurous spirit. Which is something I have struggled with in the past, but that I increasingly see is probably one of the most important ingredients of a happy life. This revelation was really hammered home for me when I caught Up on TV over the weekend. But then AFTER I watched Up I did go out and ended up being whistled at at 2 in the morning by a biker gang which is just one of those things that I never knew how much I wanted to happen to me until it happened to me. So, lesson learned, Pixar. Lesson learned. And when I work out I see it as training for the general adventure that is life, hence the connection to exercise with this song.
Makes sense? Does this topic intrigue you as well? I always welcome comments and stories over e-mail.
I hope it is beautifully summery where you are too.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
So I'm Back To The Velvet Underground: Communication
Music is a form of communication that is sometimes direct and sometimes ineffable as heck. For instance, this particular song has been for the last few months something I listen to when I want to feel like myself again, after not feeling like myself. (Which is a distressing feeling as I am sure you understand.)
And it always works. So imagine my surprise to find out that Stevie Nicks actually wrote this song to remind HERSELF about herself, in the aftermath of mega-fame with Fleetwood Mac. "So I'm back to the Velvet Underground" -- her favorite used clothing store -- "back to the floor that I love" -- she used to keep her mattress directly on the floor -- "to a room with some lace and paper flowers" -- the way she decorated -- "back to the gypsy that I was."
And I pinky-swear that I only knew that background just now, today, long after I decided this was the song to listen to when I felt shaken-up and wanted to feel like Amy Wilson.
Isn't that kind of incredible? There is something encoded in this song beyond what the words actually say and beyond what the music actually sounds like. And that's what makes music something we can use to express to others what we can't figure out how to express.
*
The song: Fleetwood Mac, "Gypsy"; 1982
I just want to make a quick sidebar here about Stevie Nicks, the person, because I happen to admire and respect her a lot. And so do many of the women of my acquaintance -- there is something about her that seems to speak to us.
Which makes me wonder why Stevie Nicks is the butt of quite so many jokes as she is. I understand that I wasn't alive when she was in her full prominence, so maybe there is something I am missing. But in my perception, her main crimes seem to be that she dresses kinda flamboyantly, she uses grandiose allusions to nature and magic in her lyrics, and she seems to lack a certain amount of self-awareness.
To which I say, so what? That's rock n' roll, baby. Or at least the kind of rock n' roll that I want to hear.
But I'll go ahead and say the word I am thinking, which is sexism. Sexism is the force that reveres David Bowie for wearing skintight leggings and reviles Stevie Nicks for wearing lace sleeves. Sexism is the force that assumes that an artist like Katy Perry can't possibly be the architect of her own aesthetic, and of her own success. (See also: "At the Movies with Amy Wilson: Katy Perry Part of Me 3D") Sexism is the force that makes a list of the 100 Greatest Guitarists Of All Time and puts two women on it, and neither higher than 75th place. (Bonnie Raitt - 89; Joni Mitchell - 75. Which offends me deeply. DEEPLY!)
(And actually this force is a certain prominent rock magazine but I will not defile this blog by naming it here.)
Sexism in music, and music criticism, is a real thorn in my boot. It's something that I hope to address on an ongoing basis, with a light touch naturally, and mostly by Being The Change That I Wish To See -- which in my case involves posting here the music that I like, and that touches me, and not worrying that it is too "silly" or "girly".
Because why is it even still possible to use "too girly" as an insult? I ask you.
(Previous Fleetwood Mac: Rumours
Previous Stevie Nicks: "Leather and Lace")
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
And it always works. So imagine my surprise to find out that Stevie Nicks actually wrote this song to remind HERSELF about herself, in the aftermath of mega-fame with Fleetwood Mac. "So I'm back to the Velvet Underground" -- her favorite used clothing store -- "back to the floor that I love" -- she used to keep her mattress directly on the floor -- "to a room with some lace and paper flowers" -- the way she decorated -- "back to the gypsy that I was."
And I pinky-swear that I only knew that background just now, today, long after I decided this was the song to listen to when I felt shaken-up and wanted to feel like Amy Wilson.
Isn't that kind of incredible? There is something encoded in this song beyond what the words actually say and beyond what the music actually sounds like. And that's what makes music something we can use to express to others what we can't figure out how to express.
*
The song: Fleetwood Mac, "Gypsy"; 1982
I just want to make a quick sidebar here about Stevie Nicks, the person, because I happen to admire and respect her a lot. And so do many of the women of my acquaintance -- there is something about her that seems to speak to us.
Which makes me wonder why Stevie Nicks is the butt of quite so many jokes as she is. I understand that I wasn't alive when she was in her full prominence, so maybe there is something I am missing. But in my perception, her main crimes seem to be that she dresses kinda flamboyantly, she uses grandiose allusions to nature and magic in her lyrics, and she seems to lack a certain amount of self-awareness.
To which I say, so what? That's rock n' roll, baby. Or at least the kind of rock n' roll that I want to hear.
But I'll go ahead and say the word I am thinking, which is sexism. Sexism is the force that reveres David Bowie for wearing skintight leggings and reviles Stevie Nicks for wearing lace sleeves. Sexism is the force that assumes that an artist like Katy Perry can't possibly be the architect of her own aesthetic, and of her own success. (See also: "At the Movies with Amy Wilson: Katy Perry Part of Me 3D") Sexism is the force that makes a list of the 100 Greatest Guitarists Of All Time and puts two women on it, and neither higher than 75th place. (Bonnie Raitt - 89; Joni Mitchell - 75. Which offends me deeply. DEEPLY!)
(And actually this force is a certain prominent rock magazine but I will not defile this blog by naming it here.)
Sexism in music, and music criticism, is a real thorn in my boot. It's something that I hope to address on an ongoing basis, with a light touch naturally, and mostly by Being The Change That I Wish To See -- which in my case involves posting here the music that I like, and that touches me, and not worrying that it is too "silly" or "girly".
Because why is it even still possible to use "too girly" as an insult? I ask you.
(Previous Fleetwood Mac: Rumours
Previous Stevie Nicks: "Leather and Lace")
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Thursday, June 6, 2013
I Know A Place: "I'll Take You There"
I love soul music.
For many reasons. It's historically and culturally interesting (as I learned indelibly when I visited the Stax Records Museum in Memphis). It's a truly American art form (and I am very interested in those). It's emotional and interpersonal (like me). It's filled with strong personalities and sassy ladies (like country music, another one of my great passions).
But mostly, I love soul music because it's fun and it makes me want to dance.
And I'd never really liked this song but I've gained a new appreciation for it recently because I've realized just how magical and charming the phrase "I'll take you there" really is. That is, if you have any sort of lust for life at all, but I am sure you do if you love soul music.
Let's go!
*
The song: The Staples Singers, "I'll Take You There"; 1972
Previous Staples Singers: "Let's Do It Again"
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
For many reasons. It's historically and culturally interesting (as I learned indelibly when I visited the Stax Records Museum in Memphis). It's a truly American art form (and I am very interested in those). It's emotional and interpersonal (like me). It's filled with strong personalities and sassy ladies (like country music, another one of my great passions).
But mostly, I love soul music because it's fun and it makes me want to dance.
And I'd never really liked this song but I've gained a new appreciation for it recently because I've realized just how magical and charming the phrase "I'll take you there" really is. That is, if you have any sort of lust for life at all, but I am sure you do if you love soul music.
Let's go!
*
The song: The Staples Singers, "I'll Take You There"; 1972
Previous Staples Singers: "Let's Do It Again"
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Saturday, June 1, 2013
I'm Just Trying To Find A Decent Melody: For the Anxious
There is a particular topic that I want to start writing about more often.
Want is maybe not the right word. I mean something more along the lines of "don't really want to at all, but feel I should in order to stay true to my own personal values" (but that doesn't condense well).
In this case the personal value is authenticity.
And the topic is mental illness.
*
Usually I write very quickly. Too quickly for my own good in many cases. What translates as confidence in professional and public writing often seems aggressive in a personal context.
But yes, as people who follow me on Twitter can attest, I've often compared the way I look and feel while writing to the Phantom of the Opera. With the same hunched posture, same "don't look at me I am a TORTURED MONSTER!" sort of attitude, many fewer candelabras, and a slightly less intense desire to kidnap people and bring them back to my lair.
(I do have sort of a real Thing for interesting lamps, so I suppose that's my equivalent of the candelabra thing.)
Although I know this to be true about myself, I'd have a hard time with anyone trying to describe me this way because of how closely it adhers to the archetype of the "crazy creative" mind. It's not so much being called "crazy". . .it's more my desire to not associate anything mystical or special to the quality. I think anyone who knows what it really feels like will say the same.
*
I just want to pause a moment here and say that I feel very lucky to have this venue in which to explain myself, and to have experienced an audience that's been incredibly sympathetic and kind. Wonders of the modern world.
Also to say that this is one thing I am writing very slowly.
There are so many things I want to say about mental illness, and very many things holding me back. A reluctance to be personally vulnerable is certainly one of them, but I also sometimes wonder if it's even worth trying to write about it or if the territory has already been too well-covered. (Which is something I have been sensitive about ever since my junior year of college, when a manuscript of mine was returned from an award committee with the feedback that Jewish identity narratives have had their time already. Which is probably true, and I should get over it, but I gotta tell you it was a real slap in the face.)
But I'll keep slogging away at figuring it out. Every piece of writing is just a draft.
*
Whew. Well, I think I've got it left in me to talk about what I came here to talk about: the nature of obsession.
More precisely, the nature of being an obsessive person. It's my experience that what separates a really scary obsessive person from just your garden variety lovably neurotic obsessive person is the ability to diversify your obsessions.
I certainly know this has been the case for me, which is why at the age of 25 I have a mind like a REALLY cluttered attic and am seriously considering renting additional storage space somehow. I just have this really relentless desire to acquire knowledge, and I realize that sounds like what the kids are calling a "humblebrag" but what I mean to emphasize here is the word relentless. Sometimes I would really like it to relent.
But it doesn't, and that's what makes me an obsessive person. That's all it ever is. Just too much of a (maybe good, maybe neutral) thing.
This quality of mine doesn't usually scare me, because it's just the way I live. But I know that it does scare other people occasionally. The word "obsessive" in itself is an insult, not to mention the many associations of Fatal Attraction and Misery that come with it when you happen to be a woman, as I am (in case you hadn't realized).
That's why I've learned to conceal it in my general life. Not because I am ashamed, but because it's not a good feeling to scare people.
And if you'll let me indulge my melodramatic side for a moment plz plz, even the Phantom of the Opera wears a mask.
*
The song: U2, "Stuck In A Moment You Can't Get Out Of"; 2002
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
And I Love Everybody Since I Fell In Love With You: "Everybody Loves A Lover"
Get ready, because this song is just ADORABLE.
The song: The Shirelles, "Everybody Loves A Lover"; 1962
So adorable in fact that I put it on a mix CD I made a few months back for a friend's birthday. (She was turning one. It seemed momentous enough for a mix CD.) And because this friend happens to be what most people would call "a baby", I wanted the songs on this mix CD to be only the sweetest and best I could find.
I can't remember what all I put on there but I know it had Paul Simon's "Loves Me Like A Rock", Jackson 5 "I Want You Back", Miriam Makeba "Pata Pata", and Jackson Browne "Somebody's Baby" (I couldn't resist).
In any case, I can highly recommend any of the above songs if you find yourself in an ebullient mood now or at some point in the future.
*
(Previous Shirelles: "Will You Love Me Tomorrow"; I also discovered this Bryan Ferry cover of that song recently [and it's good!])
And "Everybody Loves A Lover" is in fact ebullient, perhaps as ebullient as it gets. I just love the phrasing of "I should worry, doo be doo be do, not for nothing, doo be doo be do" for its unique blend of early 60s un-self-consciousness and what one might term "Yiddishkeit". Which is the ineffable essence of what makes a Jewish thing Jewish, which is something I have had cause to think about a fair few times over the course of my life. I don't know my own personal answer but I am pretty sure it has something to do with having expressive eyebrows. (All jokes aside, "Everybody Loves A Lover" was written by the Jewish lyricist Richard Adler, known mostly for his work in musicals.)
The Shirelles cover is actually a re-work of an original by Doris Day, which is also pretty snazzy in a much different way.
But I find the Shirelles version just killer. Only the sweetest and the best.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
The song: The Shirelles, "Everybody Loves A Lover"; 1962
So adorable in fact that I put it on a mix CD I made a few months back for a friend's birthday. (She was turning one. It seemed momentous enough for a mix CD.) And because this friend happens to be what most people would call "a baby", I wanted the songs on this mix CD to be only the sweetest and best I could find.
I can't remember what all I put on there but I know it had Paul Simon's "Loves Me Like A Rock", Jackson 5 "I Want You Back", Miriam Makeba "Pata Pata", and Jackson Browne "Somebody's Baby" (I couldn't resist).
In any case, I can highly recommend any of the above songs if you find yourself in an ebullient mood now or at some point in the future.
*
(Previous Shirelles: "Will You Love Me Tomorrow"; I also discovered this Bryan Ferry cover of that song recently [and it's good!])
And "Everybody Loves A Lover" is in fact ebullient, perhaps as ebullient as it gets. I just love the phrasing of "I should worry, doo be doo be do, not for nothing, doo be doo be do" for its unique blend of early 60s un-self-consciousness and what one might term "Yiddishkeit". Which is the ineffable essence of what makes a Jewish thing Jewish, which is something I have had cause to think about a fair few times over the course of my life. I don't know my own personal answer but I am pretty sure it has something to do with having expressive eyebrows. (All jokes aside, "Everybody Loves A Lover" was written by the Jewish lyricist Richard Adler, known mostly for his work in musicals.)
The Shirelles cover is actually a re-work of an original by Doris Day, which is also pretty snazzy in a much different way.
But I find the Shirelles version just killer. Only the sweetest and the best.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Monday, May 20, 2013
And It Could Work For You: "Something Good Can Work"
Here's a nice summery song that will make you want to participate in a montage of fun activities with a group of attractive people:
The song: Two Door Cinema Club, "Something Good Can Work"; 2011
*
I am still on this kick of songs about happiness, because I am beginning to put together my own theory of happiness.
Sometimes I wish I didn't have to make a theory about everything before I can truly accept it, but this is the way my mind works. It hurts sometimes because it never shuts itself down -- my mind, that is. But I've learned I've just got to keep feeding it things to think about so it doesn't turn on itself.
In fact, keeping my mind from turning on itself is one of my main occupations.
I was born with a very heavy genetic predisposition toward mental illness. I don't talk about this much because I don't like to. But a genetic predisposition is a genetic predisposition, and a life is a life, and mine has made me into a person who can be obsessive, moody, impulsive, despairing, and/or nervous in turns.
My brain is my best friend and my worst enemy.
In my life I spend a lot of time thinking about things that seem like they don't bear that much thinking about. Like popular music, and Dancing with the Stars, and why there are so many flavors of gum right now. (Seriously though, why?)
Happiness is one of those things, but only for people who know what it is instinctively. Just like mainstream culture is not worth thinking about for those who have never felt themselves to be alienated from it.
I don't know what happiness is, or at least I haven't known it. That's not to say I've never been happy in my life: I've been white-water rafting, and played Risk, and gone to the mall with friends -- I've had good experiences and relief from the darker sides of life, certainly. But I wouldn't call my past self a happy person, in the sense of being able to fall asleep knowing I would be happy again in the morning.
I think this is because happiness is like any other meaningful pursuit, and it takes time and a level of self-knowledge to create. But happiness is among the more challenging of meaningful pursuits, not only because it is so ineffable but because humans seem to be willing to accept a base level of unhappiness as their punishment for being alive. That's a big statement I know, but I also know I can't be the only person who has ever thought something like "man this chair is REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE but eh, it'd be too much work to move."
So I hope you'll bear with me as I try to work this out, and I hope you'll occasionally find something of worth for yourself in the various thoughts I share about this issue. I just want to say, more to myself than anything but also to you: I know it seems like happiness should be self-evident, and I know it seems like there's something wrong with you when it's not. But that's the beginning of the theory, not its end, and something good can work.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
The song: Two Door Cinema Club, "Something Good Can Work"; 2011
*
I am still on this kick of songs about happiness, because I am beginning to put together my own theory of happiness.
Sometimes I wish I didn't have to make a theory about everything before I can truly accept it, but this is the way my mind works. It hurts sometimes because it never shuts itself down -- my mind, that is. But I've learned I've just got to keep feeding it things to think about so it doesn't turn on itself.
In fact, keeping my mind from turning on itself is one of my main occupations.
I was born with a very heavy genetic predisposition toward mental illness. I don't talk about this much because I don't like to. But a genetic predisposition is a genetic predisposition, and a life is a life, and mine has made me into a person who can be obsessive, moody, impulsive, despairing, and/or nervous in turns.
My brain is my best friend and my worst enemy.
In my life I spend a lot of time thinking about things that seem like they don't bear that much thinking about. Like popular music, and Dancing with the Stars, and why there are so many flavors of gum right now. (Seriously though, why?)
Happiness is one of those things, but only for people who know what it is instinctively. Just like mainstream culture is not worth thinking about for those who have never felt themselves to be alienated from it.
I don't know what happiness is, or at least I haven't known it. That's not to say I've never been happy in my life: I've been white-water rafting, and played Risk, and gone to the mall with friends -- I've had good experiences and relief from the darker sides of life, certainly. But I wouldn't call my past self a happy person, in the sense of being able to fall asleep knowing I would be happy again in the morning.
I think this is because happiness is like any other meaningful pursuit, and it takes time and a level of self-knowledge to create. But happiness is among the more challenging of meaningful pursuits, not only because it is so ineffable but because humans seem to be willing to accept a base level of unhappiness as their punishment for being alive. That's a big statement I know, but I also know I can't be the only person who has ever thought something like "man this chair is REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE but eh, it'd be too much work to move."
So I hope you'll bear with me as I try to work this out, and I hope you'll occasionally find something of worth for yourself in the various thoughts I share about this issue. I just want to say, more to myself than anything but also to you: I know it seems like happiness should be self-evident, and I know it seems like there's something wrong with you when it's not. But that's the beginning of the theory, not its end, and something good can work.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
Friday, May 17, 2013
Once I Figured It Out You Were Right Here All Along: Modern Love
Usually I would just link to the entry where I said this, but for the first time in my life I am feeling the urge to quote myself and I kind of want to ride this wave into shore.
"1. There are two schools of thought in this world: "People are stupid. So if a lot of them like something, it must be stupid."; and "People are stupid, but if a lot of them like something, it could actually just be SO good that it penetrated the stupidness of people."
Because, yes, people are stupid and never more so than when considered in large groups. BUT people are also innately musical AS A SPECIES and programmed to love love AS A SPECIES, so it's not like even large groups of people can't recognize a good pop song (which is nothing simpler and nothing more complicated than a piece of art appealing to those two qualities of people).
2. Yes, pop music uses a lot of computers. Sometimes in ways that are stupid. But ALSO sometimes in ways that actually enhance the overall sound of the song.
and FURTHERMORE, it's not like someone has invented a Pop Music Song Creating Program.
It's still all humans, all human thoughts and human words and human tastes when it comes down to it. We use tools! And a computer is a REALLY GREAT TOOL.
So for every song that comes on the radio that makes you want to roll the windows down and turn it UP
there was a human in a studio somewhere who felt that feeling too and was smart enough to recognize it for what it was.
and god damn it aren't we all brothers and sisters????????????????"
It can be easy.
"1. There are two schools of thought in this world: "People are stupid. So if a lot of them like something, it must be stupid."; and "People are stupid, but if a lot of them like something, it could actually just be SO good that it penetrated the stupidness of people."
Because, yes, people are stupid and never more so than when considered in large groups. BUT people are also innately musical AS A SPECIES and programmed to love love AS A SPECIES, so it's not like even large groups of people can't recognize a good pop song (which is nothing simpler and nothing more complicated than a piece of art appealing to those two qualities of people).
2. Yes, pop music uses a lot of computers. Sometimes in ways that are stupid. But ALSO sometimes in ways that actually enhance the overall sound of the song.
and FURTHERMORE, it's not like someone has invented a Pop Music Song Creating Program.
It's still all humans, all human thoughts and human words and human tastes when it comes down to it. We use tools! And a computer is a REALLY GREAT TOOL.
So for every song that comes on the radio that makes you want to roll the windows down and turn it UP
there was a human in a studio somewhere who felt that feeling too and was smart enough to recognize it for what it was.
and god damn it aren't we all brothers and sisters????????????????"
*
So here's a song that you have a one in five chance of hearing with ten seconds of turning on a radio:
The song: Justin Timberlake, "Mirrors"; 2013
I think this song is amazing. I even love the more conceptual coda, and I am usually very much NOT into "more-conceptual codas".
"Mirrors" is a great example of the neo-funk sound that's really coming back (notably with Daft Punk's "Get Lucky", Chris Brown's "Fine China" [which I won't link to because I am trying to lose my crush on it because Chris Brown is truly a reprehensible person], and Justin Timberlake's own "Suit and Tie" [I usually would shy away from Speaking For My Generation, but on this issue I can say with confidence that Jay-Z's involvement in this song does not make it better]).
My feelings about this neo-funk trend are 100% great, but what I think is even more encouraging is that "Mirrors" is a positive song. It's calm, and happy, and it describes a relationship that is stable.
I've written before about the fetishization of pain in popular music, particularly as it relates to romance. But seriously, life and love do NOT have to be painful to be meaningful. In fact, can we agree that it's much easier to live a meaningful life when you can focus on things other than yourself?
Like music, and dancing, and food, and interesting nonfiction, and pictures of baby exotic mammals, and sharing good experiences with good people.
It can be easy.
Yrs,
AW
inbedwithamywilson@gmail.com
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