Elvis Presley and producer Chips Moman, American Sound Studio, Memphis, 1969
RIP to the great music producer, songwriter, and studio owner Chips Moman, who was an essential and crucial part of the thrilling warp-and-weft of the Memphis music scene in the 60s and 70s (and beyond), whose work at STAX resulted in hits for many of the artists (many of whom needed an injection of new energy into their careers – a Chips specialty). But the list goes on and on. He recorded and produced Dusty Springfield’s still-legendary album Dusty in Memphis. One of Moman’s gifts was to stroll into the career of an already-developed artist and help them revolutionize themselves, take risks, move into new and bold directions. I mean, come on, Dusty Springfield recorded this album at Moman’s American Sound:
Correction: Moman did not produce “Dusty in Memphis,” although it was recorded at his studio. The album was produced by Jerry Wexler, Arif Mardin, Tom Dowd.
Chips Moman is probably most famous for his work with Elvis Presley in a marathon 12-day session in 1969 (the only time they worked together). In 12 days at Chips’ American Sound Studio, Elvis recorded 36 tracks. Yes, you heard right. These tracks are intricate and beautiful, diverse and complex, with amazing orchestration and arrangements. A revolution, especially coming at the tail-end of a decade where his music output was chaotic, random, and dominated by the soundtracks.
Chips Moman ushered (pushed, really) Elvis into a modern sound. An adult male sound. A guy with responsibilities, a daughter, a marriage, a social conscience, an awareness of the world, and relatable human problems – of which “Suspicious Minds” is probably the best example.
Elvis’ songs up until “Suspicious Minds” often existed in a generic world of love and puppy-love and horndog-lust. It was his performances that made them unique. “Suspicious Minds,” though … it’s complicated, it’s dark, it’s grown up in other words and – perhaps inadvertently – tapped into the anxiety and paranoia of the late 60s, which ended up have real resonance in the early 70s, with Watergate and all the rest. Suspicion everywhere.
But all of the tracks still shiver with relevance and freshness, as well as a sense of the risks being taken. Or, maybe you need to know about what a huge risk Elvis was taking putting himself into a newcomer’s hands … how “not done” that was, how much the Colonel hated/feared/resented what was happening, how DIFFERENT Chips was than all the “Yes Men” around Elvis … Once you know all that, the tracks sound even more revolutionary. Elvis taking off the chains that bind.
And so it is no surprise that some of Elvis’ greatest hits – ever – were recorded during those 12 days. Now, “Hound Dog” and “Don’t Be Cruel” and “My Baby Left Me” and “Baby, Let’s Play House” are in the history books as some of the most important rock ‘n’ roll ever recorded, due to how they cracked apart the culture’s complacency, letting in a tsunami of the New. But when you turn on the radio today, you’re far more likely to hear “Suspicious Minds” than “Hound Dog.”
In the late 60s, Elvis was perceived as a has-been. People had affection for him still, but The Beatles had arrived, the Stones were rising, the world was changing, and Elvis was trapped in his movie contract, not touring, and his songs – many of them excellent – were buried on a mishmash of albums. He was no longer an “event”. He put out a gospel album that sold a bazillion copies, but he wasn’t at the forefront anymore. It drove him crazy, although publicly he was a good sport about it, and did end up covering quite a few Beatles songs.
The 1968 “comeback special” was an important signifier of what was to come, and, in that particular situation, producer Steve Binder played a similar role that Chips Moman was to play a year later: making Elvis really GET how much of a “has-been” he really was – or, at least, that that was the perception, and perception is reality. Steve Binder made Elvis go stand outside with him on Sunset Boulevard. People walked by and nobody mobbed Elvis. They didn’t even turn and look at him and it freaked Elvis OUT. As Dave Marsh said so beautifully in his book (which I talked about at length here), if there was one thing that Elvis wanted, more than anything else, from the very beginning, it was to be “an unignorable man.” After the Sunset Boulevard debacle, Elvis was like, “Oh hell to the NO” and proceeded to blow the roof off with his performance in that special.
Elvis Presley during what is now known as the “comeback special,” 1968.
Chips Moman barged into Elvis’ own complacency, already shattered by the comeback special, during the recording sessions at American Sound only a couple of months later. He wanted Elvis to move on into the modern world, with new tracks, new songwriters, a new sound, a sound that MOMAN would choose, not Elvis, not the Colonel, not movie people who were financially invested in Elvis doing “same ol’ same ol.” Moman was a producer, damned proud of it, and he was not about to be bossed around. HE was in charge of the sessions, not Elvis, not the Colonel, and definitely not Elvis’ entourage. This took some balls, Moman was up against an entire Elvis industry, a rigid monolith at that point, as well as the way Elvis normally worked. Elvis was so talented he took it easy. Even when “taking it easy” he was better than most. But when he was pushed? Like Sam Phillips did at Sun? Like Steve Binder did with the television special? Like Chips Moman did in 1969? He moved MOUNTAINS.
The list of songs Elvis recorded at American Sound, under the guidance of Chips Moman, is, frankly, astonishing. Those 12 days resulted in two full albums, the main one being From Elvis in Memphis (voted #190 on Rolling Stone’s list of 500 greatest albums of all time) with tracks to spare.
A short list of tracks on these albums:
“Long Black Limousine”
“Kentucky Rain”
“Power of My Love”
“True Love Travels on a Gravel Road”
“Any Day Now”
“Stranger In My Hometown”
“From a Jack to a King”
“You’ll Think Of Me”
“The Fair’s Moving On”
“Without Love (I Have Nothing)”
“Rubberneckin'”
“Suspicious Minds”
“In the Ghetto”
12 days. Remember that.
There have been reams of commentary about those sessions. How Chips worked. How he helped Elvis to focus. How he banished the “entourage” from the room. How he got push-back and how he then insisted: this was not the way HE worked, with all of Elvis’ friends on the periphery. And Elvis – interestingly enough – was not one of the ones who pushed back. Elvis was an Alpha Dog, all right? He was the #1 Guy in any room he walked into. The musicians at American Sound felt it, and all testify that that was the case. These guys played for everybody and even they were blown away by what Elvis brought, just by walking into a room. But what comes along with true Alpha Dog status (and not the more toxic wanna-be version, where throwing your weight around comes out of insecurity) is that you RECOGNIZE other true Alpha Dogs. And Elvis recognized Chips Moman as the Leader. It took about 20 minutes for Elvis to get it, to realize: “Oh. Okay. This guy is a little different. This guy is the Alpha in this particular situation. Sure, I’ll go Beta for him, and save the Alpha Dog stuff for my performances.” Elvis did just that, and – in collaboration with Chips Moman – ushered in yet ANOTHER revolution in Elvis’ revolutionary career.
A small sample of what happened in those twelve days:
Elvis, performing “Suspicious Minds” a year later, in Las Vegas
One of Elvis’ sexiest and dirtiest tracks. And that’s saying something.
I have written about this track before and how moving I find it, how essential this track is to understanding Elvis and what he “brought.” In Gillian Welch’s song “Elvis Presley Blues,” she writes that when Elvis went onstage his “soul was at stake.” That’s true in the grinding-sex songs, it’s true in the gospel, and it’s also true in the ballads, like this one. Stunning performance.
Magnificent. Coming a year after Martin Luther King’s assassination – in Memphis, an event which devastated Elvis – it still carries such depth, such eerie depth
A huge hit. Elvis rarely addressed politics or controversial issues in his music. Not because he didn’t have political convictions and opinions – he did – but because he didn’t see it as his role in the world. At a press conference before his Madison Square Garden performances, he was asked by a female journalist about his attitude towards “women’s lib” and Elvis replied, simply but firmly, “Honey, I’m an entertainer.” lol He was asked about the Vietnam War and his answer was the same. “I’m not going to talk about that.” He was asked about the controversial situation in the songwriter community, with songwriters pulling their songs out of the publishing companies – a development that hamstrung people like Elvis who didn’t write his own stuff. In answer to that question, Elvis lied smoothly, saying he hadn’t heard about it – when he most certainly had, and he was extremely concerned about it. But his answer was classic: “I don’t know anything about that. I’ve been in Hawaii workin’ on my suntan.” Oh, Elvis. THAT’S a rock star. But here in “In the Ghetto”: he addressed cyclical poverty and racism. Having someone like Elvis sing a song about such a topic was extremely radical – especially in 1969, when America was on fire. Having someone like Elvis sing a song about such a topic was radical then and it’s radical now. This was Chips Moman’s influence.
RIP to Chips Moman. Without him, we wouldn’t have so much, SO MUCH. His impact has been incalculable.
This is the first time that anybody ever knocked me down and so I suppose it ought to be recorded. Unhappily I can’t go into details. It was a case of guilt and shame in which I was relatively the innocent party, since I merely offered entertainment which was accepted with apparent gratitude until the untimely entrance of other parties. Feel a little sorrowful about it. So unnecessary. The sort of behavior pattern imposed by the conventional falsehoods.
Donnie comforted me when he arrived on the scene. Now he is upstairs with another party procured in the bar. Why do they strike us? What is our offense? We offer them a truth which they cannot bear to confess except in privacy and the dark – a truth which is inherently as bright as the morning sun. He struck me because he did what I did and his friends discovered it. Yes, it hurt – inside. I do not know if I will be able to sleep. But tomorrow I suppose the swollen face will be normal again and I will pick up the usual thread of life.
… over a two-week period where I never stopped running around. Still no sign of things slowing down. Out to LA on Thursday for only three days. A whirlwind. Here’s the music that’s been in my ears over the last two weeks. From Charlie Rich to Charli XCX. As is right and proper.
“Amazing Grace” – Charlie Rich. I’ve been on a Charlie Rich binge lately. I can’t get past his “Amazing Grace” at the moment. When Charlie Rich sings, he’s “hot”, but also with a deep strain of almost … existential melancholy … I don’t know what that mixture is but it is uniquely his and I love it.
“Wonderful” – Brian Wilson, from SMILE. Talk about existential melancholy. Nobody does it better. It’s a heart PANG rather than a heart CRACK.
“Delta Dawn” – Tanya Tucker. This Shuffle is already one for the books.
“Under the Boardwalk” – The Rolling Stones. This is truly surreal.
“Hey Porter” – Johnny Cash. The guitar has that “rhythm of the tracks” that Keith Richards talks about in his wonderful book, the rhythm of rhythm & blues, and the importance of trains.
“I Never Want to Let You Down” – Lenny Kravitz. He’s so sexy, so talented. I’ve been “in” since the first album and I’ll follow him anywhere.
“Dum Dum” – Brenda Lee. I get such a kick out of her. One of the biggest stars of her day. Now … almost forgotten. Yes, I know, to music people she’s remembered. But out there in the culture? Is she still there anywhere? I have a ton of her stuff and, to be honest, her ballads often sound all alike. Not her vocals, but the background arrangement. You can tell that she was a hit, and so the powers that be were like, “Okay, don’t change a thing! Keep doing the same thing!” When she starts to rock, or swing, and roughs her voice up in that famous way of hers … to me, her stuff comes alive in a profound way that still feels fresh and fun. A #1-selling artist. Who set records not broken until Madonna. Her “female perspective” (yuk) is one of her defining characteristics: a girl entering the boy-land of rock ‘n’ roll. Her songs are not just songs about love, there are songs about sexual urgency, need, desire. But it’s all from the brief pre-pill era in the 1960s, that feel more like the 1950s in terms of conformity … the 60s were far worse for women (at least in terms of cultural representation) than the 1950s were. It’s like the culture snapped back into place after the Elvis Explosion in the 50s, and re-asserted its primacy, but in even more conservative ways. But the sexual revolution had already started- the pill would be the final nail in the coffin – and in the meantime, the 60s had a blend of prudishness and prurience that looks truly psychotic now. Brenda Lee presented an unthreatening persona. A sweet woman, petite (understatement), wearing big poodle skirts, saddle shoes, and singing with a huge voice. But she wasn’t, say, Joan Jett. Or even Wanda Jackson, earlier, who was the real pioneer. I don’t know, I’m sure there are people who have written about “The Brenda Lee Thing”. She seems like an intermediary figure … a person who would not have found the fame she had if she had started even 5 or 6 years later … and certainly wouldn’t have found fame if she had started 5 or 6 years earlier. In a way, she was part of the mainstreaming of rock ‘n’ roll. Turning the grease-bomb sex-mad rebellion of those Southern country boys into something white kids in suburbia could enjoy and that their parents would approve of. And yet there’s subversiveness in her stuff too. The willingness to admit girls want sex, have desires, etc. She’s not just singing sentimental ballads. I mean, listen to the lyrics of “Dum Dum.” It could be sung by a man. She’s pushing the boy to go farther, even though his mom is in the next room. Great! And then there’s the voice. That is not a “pretty” voice. It’s big, it’s tough, it gets rough (in a way that is still thrilling), and it can SWING. This is not a “good girl” voice. It’s something else entirely. I love her a lot, in case that wasn’t clear.
“Thirteen” – Big Star. One of the best songs about adolescence ever written. And it’s thirteen-year-old life. Not sixteen/seventeen-year-old life. It’s the tiny breath before the real craziness of teenage-life begins. It’s beautiful and poignant. And of course these boys hailed from Memphis.
“Tuckered Out” – Jackie Brenston. Recorded at Sun Studio. I love the guy-chorus doing call and response. It sounds like Cab Calloway’s stuff. And it all has that indelible Sun sound. What IS it about that drab nonentity of a room that makes a sound like that? Was it just the vibe of the people who worked there? Or Sam Philliips’ interest in the recording artists just being themselves, finding themselves, taking risks? But there’s something in the acoustics. Slap-back? That’s not really happening here. It’s only a piano, as far as I can tell, and then Jackie and the boys in the background. It’s maybe just that you get the sense that this is a moment in time, a live take, those guys in that room at that particular time … and so this is a time capsule, a “moment” captured. That was what it was like in the room, and you can’t manufacture that, or put it together in post-production. It’s spontaneous.
“Bosom of Abraham” – Elvis Presley. Instead of the Jordanaires, doing backup for this 1960s gospel album, Elvis had The Stamps. Their harmonies were a little different, and there was a little more “church” in their sound. Elvis is lit up working with them, you can tell. Something is unleashed in him in those mid-60s gospel tunes, that carried on into the 70s, when the Stamps, of course, toured with him.
“Home” – The Foo Fighters. A beautiful simple heart-crack ballad.
“02” – Pimp Fu. Yet another talented O’Malley. My cousin Tim. An actor. A rapper. He recorded this entire album in the basement-apartment he shared in Brooklyn with my brother. Brendan would go off to work, come home, and Tim would have recorded 5 songs in his absence, these crazy innovative hilarious songs. My brother appears on some of the tracks, including this one. O’Malleys Rule.
“Future Sex/Love Sound” – Justin Timberlake. Incredibly hot. Sex distilled.
“Sittin Pretty” – Brendan Benson. I keep singing his praises in these Shuffles hoping to pass on the word. He first came to my attention because of that old iPod commercial with the catchy tune “I Don’t Know What I’m Looking For.” Yes, I bought an iPod because of that commercial. But I also thought; “Who the hell is that singing? Is that a jingle?” Well, no, it wasn’t. Brendan Benson is a folk singer, really … that’s his milieu – but he writes great pop songs. “Hits” that nobody has heard of. I have all of his stuff now, because of that one damn iPod commercial, and I love him. He’s prolific. I love prolific people, especially if they maintain quality. He’s an artist. He writes songs, he plays small gigs, he loves what he does, it’s so obvious.
“Papa, Can You Hear Me?” – Lea Michele, from Glee, singing the song from Yentl. Gorgeous song, with melancholy minor chords, by Michel Legrand with lyrics by Alan Bergman and Marilyn Bergman. Babs wasn’t messing around. I admire Michele for her courage in singing quite a few Barbra numbers on Glee, an artist who obviously means a lot to her, an artist who is so unique and so talented that it’s almost a fool’s journey to “cover” her stuff. But Lea has the pipes. Not Barbra’s pipes, because those are once-in-a-century pipes, but she can do it. She can pull it off without strain.
“I Don’t Know What You’ve Got (But It’s Got Me)” – Little Richard – so bluesy, so slow, exquisite with a buildup of hysterical emotion. Church/Sex: the same thing.
“End of My Journey” – Sam Cooke and the Soul Stirrers. Talk about “church”! I love Sam Cooke’s pop hits. He had a gift as a lyricist, and an understanding of the “hook” that is unparalleled. But boy, there’s something about the Soul Stirrers stuff!
“One-Sided Love Affair” – Elvis Presley. Recorded at Sun in the epochal year 1956. LISTEN to what Elvis does here. It borders on parody. Already! How quickly it happened: his style, his awareness of how the style worked, his awareness of himself as a phenomenon. He was aware of everything. This song really swings, and I love the bridge, with the boogie-woogie piano, Elvis yelling “Yeah!” etc. But what is so amazing to me about this track is his vocals. He’s 21 years old. He’s one year into his career, basically. His fame is exploding but it was just the beginning. If you want to hear why Elvis was weird and unlike anybody else … listen to this track and just listen to his vocals. They’re hilarious! He’s jutting and grunting and pushing his voice into eddying and flowing fits/starts … swooping down low and shimmying it about like a burlesque act … all harbingers of his early style, and done with a joy and a pleased-with-himself feeling that was part of the overpowering reality of his presence. He turns a boring song (in my opinion) into a tour de force of sexual expression, but with a very light touch, almost feather-light, so that it’s all fun as opposed to not fun. The arrangement is rockabilly, obviously. But the way he SINGS it is like a backwoods preacher in a tent in the middle of a field on a rainy Sunday morning. Listen to what he does on “Fair exchange and there’s no robbery …” What? Where did that come from? What I am trying to say is that the choices he makes, how out there they are, how instinctive, feel like they come from someone with 20 years of live-performance experience. He knew who he was. He could do no wrong. Everything he tried worked (at least in 1956).
“TV Show” – Everclear. Maybe the main reason I respond to them so strongly is their chord changes? I don’t know. It’s a mystery to me. But something primal happens when I listen to them. The songs put me into a zone. It’s not the lyrics. It’s the sound.
“With a Little Help From My Friends” – The Beatles. When The Beatles took over my grade school (years after they broke up, of course), this song touched us so much because it was about friends and we were 10 years old and we all loved each other. The drug message went right over our heads. We would swing on the swings singing this song at the top of our lungs. I looked like this, just so you get the full picture.
“See You Tonight” – Green Day. From ¡Dos!. They know how to write a song, that’s for sure. This is Everly-Brothers-ish.
“Teo Torriatte (Let Us Cling Together)” – Queen. From Day at the Races. Freddie Mercury at his melodramatic operatic best. I miss him to this day.
“Sexed Up” – the great Robbie Williams. The man is a hit-maker, a superstar, one of my favorite performers today. Keep on keeping on, Robbie. So often his songs start as what might seem like conventional ballads … and then they go somewhere else. “Sexed Up” is one of those songs. Gorgeous.
“O Dana” – Big Star. Okay, so perhaps only people well versed in Film Twitter will remember this ridiculous-ness. There’s a film “critic” who has a very popular site (bafflingly so), who is a vicious misogynist, horrible writer, and, generally, a terrible terrible person. I don’t follow him or read him because I find him toxic, but I can’t avoid him because Film Twitter gossips about him all the time, so his name shows up in my feed. Maybe last year, he wrote some piece – and for some reason – whatever movie he was writing about referenced “Big Star” (maybe they were on the soundtrack), and he sneered, “Never heard of them.” His point being: If I haven’t heard of them, they are irrelevant. His readership is (in many cases) as horrible as he is, although a lot of people seem to just read him now to give him shit. Even his loyal fanboys were embarrassed for him in “Big Star”-gate, and the comments section filled up with: “Uhm … Big Star were kind of a big deal, dude. Still are.” He was lambasted for his ignorance everywhere. He was made fun of. (You reap what you sow.) And instead of being like, “Oops, never heard of them, my bad” he dug his heels in with a “Listen, if I’ve never heard of them, then clearly they were not that big a deal.” It was RIDICULOUS. Imagine thinking something wasn’t a big deal just because you haven’t heard of them. And then REITERATING that point when you were educated by literally everyone – even your defenders – who told you, “Big Star is not some unknown little band, hate to break it to you.” Imagine the ego. I’m embarrassed for him, in general. If you don’t know who I’m talking about, 1. consider yourself lucky and 2. you’re not missing out on anything. He’s worthless.
“Brennan on the Moor” – The Clancy Brothers & Tommy Makem. Classic Clancy Brothers. Folk music, but angrily political. Pioneers in that respect. Bob Dylan was inspired by them. Everyone was. Me? This is the music of my childhood.
“Love You To” – The Beatles. Eerie. Very very druggy. Like being in a cult that involves taking LSD. Music meant to drown your critical thinking skills.
“Blackwater’s Side”- The Clancy Brothers & Tommy Makem. I’m proud of my heritage. I was seeped in it from the moment I was born, and I’m glad of it.
“The American Ruse” – the rocking and ferocious MC5. Great lyrics.
“Doo Doo Doo Doo (Heartbreaker)” – The Rolling Stones. Off of Goats Head Soup. Those horns! Those backup singers! Very very funky, with very dark lyrics.
“I’ll Be Waiting” – Adele. She kicks it old-school. Diva.
“When Sin Stops Love Begins” – Waylon Jennings. Wow. This is from his first recording session ever. Buddy Holly, his mentor and friend, did the arrangement. Amazing to hear this. A saxophone break.
“Tymps (The Sick In The Head Song)” – Fiona Apple. She’s so bizarre. I love her.
“Let Me Go” – The Rolling Stones. From Emotional Rescue. Good old-fashioned rock ‘n’ roll, with that edge of depravity they brought to everything. I mean, rock ‘n’ roll was already depraved, but they brought it to the next level. I love tuning out Mick and listening to what the other guys are doing, especially Keith.
“All Apologies” – Nirvana. A perfect song.
“Steadfast, Loyal and True” – Elvis Presley, from King Creole. A cappella, with background from The Jordannaires. It’s a school anthem, and he’s forced to sing it in the film by Walter Matthau, because that’s how things happen in Hollywood.
“Rehab” – Amy Winehouse. Yes, it’s chilling to listen to this now, considering what ended up happening. But still: the song still shocks, outside of that autobiographical context. It’s still bold, crazy, and real “fuck you” rock star stuff. Disturbing? Yes. Self-destructive? Sure. But if you’re looking for rock stars to be role models, you’ve got some serious problems. She’s honest and fucked up and adorable. I miss her.
“Cannonball” – The Breeders. Talk about missing people. I miss these broads. I miss all those broads from that era, before women had to be “sexy” in order to get radio play. These girls were not sexy. They were musicians. They wore cargo pants. They drank beer onstage and smashed shit up. I love them.
“That’s Why God Made the Radio” – The Beach Boys. So romantic. And melodramatic! Hits the spot, I tell you.
“Act Naturally” – The Beatles. Hilarious. My cousin Liam killed this one one night in karaoke.
“I’d Do Anything”- from Oliver!. It’s hard for me to talk about Oliver! without going into childhood reminiscences. Oliver! was my first obsession, although there had been clues from my earliest days that I would be an obsessive person. (Kimba, the White Lion. Orphan Train. Fred Astaire. But all of these were just rehearsals for what came over me with Oliver! It was painful. And it had no end. NO END. How perfect, then, that smack-dab in the middle of the obsession, I got to play Artful Dodger in the school play (I was 11), and my partner-in-obsession, Betsy, played Nancy. I was LIVIN’ THE DREAM.
“Sexx Laws” – Beck. Awesome. The lyrics! The orchestration is hilarious. Banjo closing it out? What?
“Got a Lot o’ Living To Do” – Elvis Presley, from Loving You. This is the one with the almost-parody-line-reading: “Come on, bab-eh!” This has a lot of joy and innocence and verve. Just re-watched Loving You. I love it. It’s also one of the only times – except for childhood photos – where Elvis wears blue jeans. It looks weird. Elvis hated jeans.
“Don’t Be Cruel” – Elvis Presley. Mere words cannot express how huge this song was in 1956. It was released with “Heartbreak Hotel” on the other side. And that, as they say, was THAT. The world went batshit insane.
“Lean On Me” – the Glee cast covering George Harrison’s song. I like it best when they re-imagine these well-known songs in a high-school-chorus way, as opposed to just covering it obediently. Their “Rehab” is a perfect example, which has a marching-band arrangement. Anyway, this is beautiful, with layered harmonies. Very CHURCH.
“You Ain’t Been True To Me” – Faye Adams. Do NOT fuck with Faye. She will call you OUT.
“Hair of the Dog” – Mike Viola. So sad it’s almost unbearable. Are you aware of Mike Viola? If not, you should be. His band is the Candy Butchers, but he does a lot of solo stuff too. Great songwriter.
“Nothing Ordinary” – Lucius. These women are so fantastic. Her voice! There’s an Annie Lennox quality to it: its range, its strength, its eerie-ness. I only have this one album but I am in love with it.
“Leave a Light On” – Garth Brooks. Oh, Garth. My love of old-school country – Waylon, Willie, Merle, Dolly and Porter, George – well, I can get why people think Garth Brooks – and what he signified – ruined country music. What is the current attitude towards Garth? Anyone know? There were a couple of his songs that I loved enough that I attended the concert he gave in Central Park. It was INSANE. It was also FREE. And he brought onto the stage the “man who most inspired me” … and out came Don McLean, and they sang “American Pie” together – which, seriously, made me lose my mind. I grew up with Don McLean. As I’ve written before, in kindergarten show and tell, other kids brought in their gerbils and their Barbies. I stood up and recited the entirety of “American Pie.” I’d never seen Don McLean live. I had no idea he was going to be there. So it was thrilling.
“Endless Journey” – Bill Whelan, composed for Riverdance on Broadway. I admit it, it’s thrilling. Plus sentimental bullshit. Both. I saw Riverdance multiple times. Not crazy about its later incarnations, which were so multi-culti that the Irish-ness of it started dissipating. Yes, yes, we are all one, got it, but let’s have more step-dancing, please.
“Wednesday” – Tori Amos, from Scarlet’s Walk. I go back and forth on her. I listened to Little Earthquakes so much that I can’t really listen to it anymore. I saw her play at the Park West in Chicago right before Little Earthquakes came out. It was just her and her piano. The show was amazing. I caught her right before she exploded. Since then, I have followed her. I have loved some of her stuff (less and less, though), and been baffled by others, and annoyed by her prosody and purposefully confusing pronunciation. I’m not as “into” her ballads. I like her pissed and sexual and funny. Those were my favorite songs off of Little Earthquakes, too. I like this song.
“Come On Girl” – the aforementioned Mike Viola. He’s wonderful. Incapable of writing a boring or stock song. His influences are clear and he has done many tribute-like albums: The Beatles, Paul McCartney’s solo stuff (he and a couple of other people did an entire concert of Paul’s solo stuff – it’s on iTunes, it’s great!), ELO (he did an ELO-inspired album with a couple of friends). He wrote the songs for Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, as well as the songs for That Thing You Do (although they fucked him on the credit for that one) … so you can see his wide and all-encompassing interest.
“Within You Without You” – The Beatles. They came a long way from “Help!”, huh? It’s like the whole culture just jumped off the diving board into nothingness. Such a short time span.
“Candy” – Big Maybelle. What a VOICE. And love the lazy romantic horns behind her. The whole vibe. Romantic.
“You Don’t Love Me (You Don’t Care)” – Bo Diddley. So hot.
“Star Spangled Banner” – Jimi Hendrix at Woodstock. Epic.
“Come What May” – Elvis Presley. Not very well-known. I love it. Recorded in 1966, in the middle of the movie years. There’s energy and joy here. The hand-claps, the horns, and Elvis himself.
“Singin’ in the Rain” – Doris Day. Perfection.
“The Road So Far” – from Supernatural: The Musical. This comes up and I start laughing out loud. I’ve watched “Fan Fiction” so many times that I have every edit, every cut, every shot, in my head.
“Dear Prudence” – Dana Fuchs, Evan Wood, Jim Sturgess & T.V. Carpio – from Julie Taymor’s Across the Universe. It’s a favorite Beatles tune of mine, and this is eerie and bizarre … with gorgeous harmonies.
“I Am a Man of Constant Sorrow” – The Soggy Bottom Boys. I think this is off the great O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack. I wish everyone would cover this song. It can take infinite interpretations.
“I’ll Know It When I See It” – Bleu. This guy is unbelievable. I went to see him in November 2012 by myself. I was suicidal that week. I am not exaggerating when I say I’m lucky to still be top-side after a week like that.
“Just Another Lie” – Brenda Lee. Do not lie to Miss Brenda. Do not do it.
“The Man That Got Away” – the exquisite Audra McDonald
“If We Never Meet Again” – Elvis Presley. I love all the Elvis-es, but God, I love Jesus-loving Elvis.
“I See a River” – the rousing production number that closes out Urinetown. My family went to see it on Broadway – all of us together, and I can’t remember the occasion – we were all adults, but there we all were, Mum, Dad, and the rest of us. It was a hilarious afternoon at the theatre. It’s a good memory.
“Chinese Food” – Pat McCurdy. A live recording and this must be from Milwaukee Summer Fest, because the crowd sounds huge. I performed with him at Milwaukee Summer Fest, one of the funnest experiences of my whole life. Here’s a picture of me backstage during Summer Fest. Slightly NSFW. I’ll just leave that there with no comment. Because what else is there to say. It says it all about what was going on and how insanely fun that whole experience was.
“On Horseback” – great Irish fiddler Eileen Ivers.
“On the Mend” – Foo Fighters. One of their lovely soft ballads.
“Heaven From Here” – Robbie Williams. God, he can sell a song. And write a song. I love him. And he’s young. There’s so much more to look forward to. My favorite Robbie anecdote: Interviewer: “So what’s the strangest thing one of your fans have given you, Robbie?” Robbie: “Herpes.” Ba-dum-CHING.
“I’m a Slave 4 U” – Britney Spears. Hot. Disturbing. Funky. Britney being all like, “I’m grown up now.” Different sound for her. Prince-ish. Pharrell Williams wrote it. Apparently it was meant for Janet Jackson originally.
“Topsy Turvy” – The Bughouse 5. Fun rockabilly. It’s all about that bass-line. Keep it steady, keep that structure firm so the song can exist, because without it … you got nothing. Over and over and over … that bass line goes. God bless bass players, especially with rhythm & blues.
“Long Train Running” – The Doobie Brothers. “Looo-oooo-OVE!” Always loved the harmonies there. For me, that’s the best part of the song.
“Birds and Ships” – Billy Bragg and Wilco, on their great joint album Mermaid Avenue, covering little-known Woody Guthrie songs. This song features a blast from the past, Natalie Merchant. This album always makes me think of the time when Cashel was born. We all were listening to it then, and Cashel – the newborn – loved it, and would wiggle around on his blanket on the floor. Heart-crack: Cashel is graduating from high school in a couple of weeks.I just can’t believe it!
“My Baby” – James Cotton. Recorded at Sun Records. Of course it was. There’s that Sun sound. Every single song recorded at Sun sounds like it probably went down at around 2 o’clock in the morning.
“That’s Me in the Bar” – A.J. Croce. Intensely pleasing bluesy lament.
“Padre” – Elvis Presley. One of my favorite 1970s tracks. My God, he sings the hell out of this one.
“Twist and Shout” – The Beatles. Off the Anthology. This appears to be live, but I don’t have the liner notes. Not sure where this is. Their ferocity leaps out of the speakers.
“You Haven’t Seen the Last of Me” – Cher, from Burlesque. I hope not, Cher!!
“Guilt Trip” – Kanye. It’s completely hypnotic.
“Millbrook” – Rufus Wainwright. Gorgeous. One of my favorites of his. It has that bittersweet melancholy thing he does so well.
“From the Morning” – Nick Drake. He was so special.
“Gonna Get Back Somehow” – Elvis Presley. Off his horribly titled album Pot Luck. (The album title was not his fault.) Great vocals here from him, and I like the arrangement. It’s a silly song but I like it.
“Criminal” – Eminem. From The Marshall Mathers LP. A great great track. Crank it UP.
“Time After Time” – Cyndi Lauper. This song was huge at our high school dances. And I can still see the music video unrolling before my mind’s eye.
“Love Yourself” – Justin Bieber. I love this song. “My mama don’t like you, and she likes everyone.” BURRRRRN. I ranted about Justin Bieber here.
“Shine” – Everclear. When I was cracking up in 2009, this song was a lifeline. Why? I don’t know. I just clutched onto it for dear life. Weird.
“When I Come Around” – Green Day. From International Superhits. Hard to believe that this band would end up doing American Idiot and 21st Century Breakdown. Doesn’t seem like the same band. I like a-political Green Day but politics unleashed something in them. I don’t entirely agree with their politics, but I love the songs that came out of their convictions.
“We Shall Overcome” – Peter, Paul and Mary. Oh, the earnestness. I’m a child of the 70s not the 60s. Which means I am suspicious of earnestness. Unfortunately. Or fortunately. Who knows. I just know that it is so. This is lovely, though.
“Symphony No. 4 in B-Flat Major, Op. 60: II. Adagio” – Beethoven. This is from my London Symphony Orchestra Beethoven album. Sometimes his stuff is almost unbearably emotional. But I don’t know how to describe it. Jaquandor? Wanna help me out here?
“Jesus Christ Pose” – Soundgarden. Oh, Soundgarden. Part of the grunge soundtrack of my 20s. Chris Cornell has one of the all-time great rock-star voices.
“The Sadder but Wiser Girl” – Robert Preston, from The Music Man. And this is the joy of Shuffle. From Soundgarden to THIS. And I’m a “sadder but wiser girl.” Come on boys, line up for the chance to enjoy me. Where the hell are you.
“Before the Parade Passes By” – Barbra Streisand. A cosmic performance.
“Gone, Gone, Gone” – The Everly Brothers. I have so many versions of different bands playing this song. This one is my favorite. It grinds. Those harmonies. That background arrangement. Perfection.
“Famous Last Words” – My Chemical Romance. I always want to tell these boys to take a day off, relax, have some fun, get laid. Or take a Xanax. Who can LIVE at such a melodramatic pitch??
“Our Father” – Wynona Carr. Such a sincere gospel tract you want to fall to your knees. She’s so great.
“Swamp Root” – Harmonica Frank. He’s so much fun. One of his best qualities is that he is so clearly HIMSELF. He imitates no one. Whatever he does – the squeaky speech impediment here, his laughs, his spoken-word style … it’s so HIM. Very influential in an almost invisible way. (See Greil Marcus’ essay on him in Mystery Train.)
“The Angels Rejoiced Last Night” – The Louvin Brothers. The harmonies. Even with their fire-breathing ultra-literal Biblical outlook: rock ‘n’ roll would not be what it is without them.
“Sound Of My Own Voice” – Mike Viola. So sad it’s almost too hard to listen to.
“Stopping the Love” – KT Tunstall. What’s she up to these days? She was everywhere for a hot second with “Black Horse and Cherry Tree.” I like her a lot.
“Mother Mother” – Tracy Bonham. Her one radio hit. I was in a Virgin Records in Chicago and it was playing in the store. I stopped in my tracks. WHO IS THAT. I went up to an employee and said, “WHO IS THAT.” He told me and I bought her CD on the spot. Fan for life from that day.
“Beautiful Day” – U2. I like them better an angry/political/Irish than inspirational. When Bono gets inspirational, he gets self-important. But it’s okay. This is a beautiful song.
“Working on the Building” – Elvis Presley. Of all the gospel he put out, this is one of my favorites. When you hear him start clapping … well, I’ll just speak for myself: It makes me want to cry. He means this shit. He meant everything he did. That’s why he is who he is. As Dave Marsh wrote in his book – the final words:
He was a man who refused to be told that the best of his dreams would not come true, who refused to be defined by anyone else’s conceptions.
This is the goal of democracy, the journey on which every prospective American hero sets out. That Elvis made so much of the journey on his own is reason enough to remember him with the honor and love we reserve for the bravest among us. Such men are the only maps we can trust.
“Trouble Baby” – The Bughouse 5. Great bar-scene blues.
“Blitzkrieg” – Metallica. Metallica covering Blitzkrieg. Grinding, fast, dark. Love these guys so much.
“The Morning Papers” – Prince. From the infamous “Love Symbol Album.” I’ve been listening to a lot of Prince – no surprise – and this was a song I had kind of forgotten about and am so happy to re-claim. I love it so much: melody, lyrics, mood.
“You Get What You Deserve” – Big Star. Chilton was such a boy genius. And Big Star has those chord changes that go right through you. This one’s got a couple of them. If you haven’t read Robert Gordon’s wonderful It Came From Memphis, I can’t recommend it highly enough. There’s a Big Star chapter, of course, but there’s so much more. It’s basically about the history of the Memphis music scene in the 20th century – focusing on what else was going on there BESIDES Elvis. Gordon is from Memphis, a musician, a wonderful storyteller, knows the subject first-hand. Wonderful book.
“Love in Vain” – The Rolling Stones. from Let It Bleed. Those guitar parts underneath Mick’s voice … a swooping almost Hawaiian-sound, and then the little gentle-bend-y finger-picking … It’s haunting. It sounds like some bad shit might be about to go down. I love this.
“Swlabr” – Cream. Undeniably good music. It’s fun to hear those guitars. But … self-indulgent? Maybe? Will I be tarred and feathered? Maybe this is the consensus view of them, I have no idea. Weirdly, I just tripped over this article last week (article is from last year), and found it interesting. It’s all news to me. I’m not a huge Cream person although I have a bunch of their stuff.
“Elephant Love Medley” – Ewan McGregor/Nicole Kidman, from Moulin Rouge. Magic. It’s impossible to say this without sounding melodramatic but this movie was a lifeline for me once upon a time during a terrible season. I watched it (on VHS) once a day, sometimes twice, for weeks. It was the only thing that gave me a sense of any hope for any future. I fell on black days. It’s hard for me to watch the movie again because of that. People seem to dismiss this movie, or call it “over the top” (one of my least favorite phrases), or “too much” … when what I sensed it in then and still sense in it now is sincerity. Pure and diamond-bright. Sincerity courses through every moment, every song, and everyone MEANS what they are doing. Every actor. And it’s a broad vaudevillian style, totally out of time, out of fashion, a lost art – but here, again, alive. I love it.
“How Blue” – Bleu. So gorgeous and haunting. He has an incredible falsetto. His voice, in general, is amazing – it can do anything. A fantastic rock star voice. I am glad he exists.
“Stormy Weather” – Sammy Price. This is off this great compilation album called “Piano Boogie Woogie,” with all these great old tracks.
“If I’m Dreaming, Just Let Me Dream” – Brenda Lee. Listen, she wants to keep feeling what she’s feeling. She’s “bubbling over with joy supreme” and she doesn’t want to know if it’s a dream. She wants to stay happy. Sexy.
“Little Pig” – Dale Hawkins. Talk about sexy, my God. I was so psyched when my pal Kim Morgan turned her considerable talents onto Dale Hawkins’ version of “Ruby”.
“Rip It Up” – Wanda Jackson covering her old boyfriend’s hit song “Rip It Up.” I love it when she covers Elvis. This is off the album that Jack White (BLESS HIM) produced. He loves the ladies, he loves the Divas, and he DOES something about it. The production of this number is gigantic, Brian Setzer-ish, rockabilly bombast, with big-band horns, and it’s awesome. I love that whole album.
“Kokomo” – The Beach Boys. Their stuff just works. That’s all. It’s timeless.
“Tonight Is So Right for Love” – Elvis Presley. This one MOVES. Elvis pushing his voice, going for it. He can do it. He knew himself. He pushed himself. He was competitive with himself, always to stunning results.
“Music For a Found Harmonium” – Patrick Street. An Irish folk group, fiddles, accordions, and all the rest. I love them. And this is beautiful, how it builds, adding layer upon layer upon layer.
“Ain’t That a Shame” – Fats Domino. Bluesy, boozy, classic bass line. Keeping the song in line, as it were. 1955.
“Why Don’t You Love Me” – Tom Hiddleston as Hank Williams in I Saw the Light. I couldn’t help it, I bought it. No, he’s not Hank. But who is. I appreciate the attempt, though. He doesn’t have that depth that Hank had in his voice, that … something else … that made him so radical, so influential, a voice that launched a thousand ships. But still: this is okay and I thought the movie – flawed though it was with the biggest flaw of all: it failed to show us WHY Hank Williams became so huge, what he was doing that was so DIFFERENT that made him the first crossover star 10 years before the Big Kahuna Crossover Elvis – had a beautiful strain of compassion running through it. It was made with love.
“24 Hours” – Eddie Boyd. What the hell IS it about the blues? It’s everything. Duke Ellington said, “I merely took the energy it takes to pout and wrote some blues.” That about sums it up.
“The Honeydipper” – Cab Calloway. I have his greatest hits and they are a joy. It is also a joy to go from Black Sabbath to Cab Calloway.
“Fairytale” – Elvis Presley covering a Pointer Sisters song. I mean, just the fact of that is fantastic. Old-fashioned country. I love his emphasis “But I BET you won’t forget me when I go” and I LOVE LOVE when he goes up the octave near the end. Mitchell and I had fun watching 1. The Pointer Sisters performance and then 2. Elvis’ recording.
“Flower Child” – Rock on, Lenny Kravitz. You just keep doing you.
“Next to You” – Junk Food. I wonder where I find this stuff. And when I bought it. No memory of it in any way/shape/form. Derivative, but fun.
“Tomorrow Is a Latter Day” – from The Book of Mormon. So outrageous and so entertaining. I can’t believe it exists.
“I Won’t Let You Down” – Ok Go. This is very Jackson-5, it seems to me.
“Long Black Veil” – The Band. Oh, The Band. Why do you fill me with such nearly unbearable melancholy … and nostalgia … to quote Nancy Lehmann in her novel The Fiery Pantheon: “She had a nostalgia for a life she had never led.” That’s what The Band sounds like to me.
“Kangaroo” – Big Star. Wow, where did all this Big Star come from? I don’t know, the mystery of Shuffle, the luck of the draw, but I am happy about it.
“Heart of Glass” – Blondie. She is so hip. Still is. I mean, who is cooler than Debbie Harry?
“Your Love” – Faye Adams. Her vibrato is out of control! In a good way. It’s her sound. Emotion trembles in that vibrato. I love her.
“Barnyard” – Brian Wilson, from SMILE. Animals again. Pet Sounds everywhere, still. Fabulous harmonies, harmonies that get under your skin.
“Night Time, My Time” – Sky Ferreira. So glad a couple of “best of the year” lists included her album, which made me curious enough to buy it. It’s terrific. There’s something very deep and dark going on, so that when she does express some hope (I love “Boys”) it’s even more touching.
“After the Lights Go Out” – The Walker Brothers. Kind of luscious. And when the harmony of the chorus comes in … goosebumps. There’s the hook.
“Dixie Fried” – the great Carl Perkins. Yes, I would like to get dixie fried too, Carl. Sign me up.
“Runaway” – Del Shannon. In the running for my favorite song of all time.
“Time of the Season” – The Zombies. The way “for loving” resolves itself is what makes the sound unforgettable. I love this interview with Rod Argent where he talks about Elvis and recounts “stopping by” Graceland to see if Elvis was home.
“Never Been to Spain” – speaking of Elvis. But aren’t we always? And if we aren’t, we should be. This was one of the staples of his live shows in the 70s, and this recording comes from the Madison Square Garden triumph. His live versions of this are always spectacular: he clearly loved the song and singing it clearly released something in it. When he goes up the octave? The crowd goes absolutely insane.
“Blue Gardenia” – Dinah Washington. Who is more romantic than Dinah Washington? Even broken-hearted, she aches with romance, she exudes it. Her VOICE.
“To Know Him Is To Love Him” – The Teddy Bears. My music collection is nuts. When a song like this comes up on Shuffle, I realize just how much music I have.
“I’ve Just Begun Having My Fun” – Britney Spears. I’m happy for you, Britney, but maybe put the brakes on sometimes? Really good song, though, with a killer-funk arrangement behind her. I’m an unapologetic fan.
“Honky Tonk Song” – George Jones. This is a sorry-ass story. As so many of his songs are. Hilarious lyrics, though. It’s a whole story. And what a voice: clear and true. And he’s not sorry about anything.
“Big Wheel” – Tori Amos. Her best song in years. I’ll keep buying whatever she puts out, even though her strange diction and ache-y line readings drive me up the PMS wall. I like her pissed, sexy, and funny. I know, I know, it’s not up to me. This song rules. I’m not sick of it yet and I’ve been listening to it on nearly constant rotation since it released.
“Didn’t It Rain” – Mahalia Jackson. “Uh-didn’t-it-UH ..” I love that this entire song – epic in her variations – has, what, a piano and maybe a stand-up bass behind her? I only hear her piano. And why are they there? To support her. That’s it. SHE’S the main instrument. And she’s driving the whole thing. They’re doing their best to keep the hell up with her.
“Oh Death” – Jen Titus. Well, my Supernatural friends will know all about this one. Best sequence the show ever did.
“Legacy” – Eminem. As of now, my favorite off of his latest album. Goosebumps-Worthy. I also love it when a woman co-stars with him in his songs. Rihanna being the obvious example (they’ve done 4 great collaborations together, plus going on tour together) … but this one features Russian singer Polina Goudieva (who co-wrote the song with Marshall). Her contribution is haunting.
“Jack the Ripper” – Link Wray. The inventor of the power chord. His guitar goes right through you. The coolest cat ever.
“Lady Cab Driver” – Prince. Okay, maybe Link Wray isn’t THE coolest cat.
“Lay Your Shine On Me” – The Box Tops. I’m so excited! Big Star AND The Box Tops in one shuffle? All hail, Alex Chilton. This song is so funky.
“The Man Who Sailed Around His Soul” – XTC. Nobody else really like them.
“Breaking Up” – Charli XCX. I love this pop-diva-queen. She’s got some anger. I like that. Young women need a little bit of anger.
“Sexy Silk” – Jessica Cornish. Hot as hell. I bought this because it’s on the soundtrack for Easy A (great soundtrack, in general), and I was like: Oh my God, this SONG.
“Junk Bond Trader” – Elliott Smith. I suppose it’s just because I know his horrible end … but even if I didn’t know, I would hear the despair breaking off these songs like giant rollers hitting the sand.
“Lucky Motel” – ELO. There’s something about their chord changes. What IS it about the harmonies and chord changes? I mean, I can hear in them The Beatles, and The Everly Brothers and The Beach Boys. But the chord changes … I wish I knew how to talk about music better. Then I could describe why the opening sequence of this instrumental song satisfies me so deeply. But also makes me slightly sad. It’s all in that music.
“Man In the Wilderness” – Styx. Oh sing out your sadness, boys. It’s hard to be so alone, I know!
“Done Somebody Wrong” – Elmore James. Great artist. Multi-talented. He did everything. King of the Slide Guitar. You can hear why here.
“Push” – Prince. Great dance track. A call to the dance floor. I catch my breath when his tunes come up now.
“Tuesday Morning” – The Pogues. Angry young men. I love them.
“You Can’t Call Me Baby” – Teddy Thompson & Kelly Jones. Have you heard this album of country duets they did? Little Windows? They sing these country songs without irony. No winking. No sense of condescension. Beautiful harmonies. Men and women rarely sing together like this anymore. There’s such a toxic divide between men and women now. Here, here, is a collaboration. I love this album.
“The Ballad of Stagger Lee” – Mississippi John Hart. Stunning. Raw. Spoken-word for half of the song. You’re on a porch of a shack in the Delta listening to some tall tales. And when his guitar-picking starts in … it’s transportive. If you haven’t read Greil Marcus’ essay on the song “Stagger Lee” and its various iterations, I highly recommend it. (It’s included in Mystery Train: Images of America in Rock ‘n’ Roll Music.)
“’97 Bonnie and Clyde” – Eminem. So disturbing. So insane! Chapter 1 of the 500-page novel called Marshall and Kim. I wrote a whole thing about “Kim”, which takes it to another level, here. “Bonnie and Clyde” is extra disturbing because the daughter is – supposedly – present. It’s a fantasy. Maybe you fantasize only about a Happy Unicorn Utopia. Most of us are not so lucky. Evil fantasies are a part of art. And, whaddya know, Kim Mathers is still walking among us.
“Meet Me at Mary’s Place” – Sam Cooke. His lyrics are so special. He starts with a detail: the cha-cha, slide rules, a chain gang … and here, let’s meet up at Mary’s Place for a good time. The specificity of the worlds he creates with his lyrics still live. They’re stories.
“Now That It’s Over” – Everclear. One of my favorites in a genre I call the “Bad Sport Breakup Song.” “My bad dreams don’t seem the same without you.” Wow. I, for one, am sick of being a good sport when a man does me wrong. I stopped being a good sport years ago. Much better for everyone involved. A clean break full of rage. You recover much quicker.
“Thieves in the Temple” – Prince. He’s PISSSSSSSSED.
“Do You Believe In Love?” – Huey Lewis & The News. He was my first live concert ever. And perfect that less than 10 years later, I was an extra in one of his videos. You can’t see me in the footage (you’ll see how many of us there are), but we got to hang out all day and it was a free concert. I could have reached down from my spot on the scaffolding and touched him.
“I Touch Myself” – Divinyls. Holy shit, I own this? I am laughing out loud.
“2 X 4” – Metallica, from the reviled album Load. I really love Load. Has time redeemed its reputation? Anyone know? It definitely is a more mainstream sound. I prefer the “real” Metallica, but I still like this album.
“Country Boy’s Dream” – Carl Perkins. Like Sam Cooke, his lyrics are very specific. Backstage at some show, he heard a musician (the stories vary on who it was) say to another musician, “Hey, lay off my blue suede shoes.” And history was made. He wrote about what he saw, what people wore, what people said.
“Sing This All Together” – The Rolling Stones. From Their Satanic Majesties Request. I often don’t recognize the songs from this album as The Stones. A weird moment in time. I guess it shows the enormous impact that Sgt. Pepper had on everyone, although I may have gotten the timeline wrong.
“Main Title to Escape From New York” – John Carpenter. YES. J’ADORE. And it’s so simple. So catchy. Gorgeous.
“Beautiful Woman” – Charlie Rich. Oh, Charlie, Charlie, I love you so. And … due to the symmetry … I’ll end this Shuffle now.
Last Friday, we had a screening of July & Half of August at Videology in Williamsburg (Brooklyn). It’s a wonderful space with a bar in the front, a screening room in the back. You can have a party in the screening room, you can have it catered, you can screen whatever movie you want for friends/family. (I want to have my birthday party there and screen Jailhouse Rock. It’s important to have goals.) There’s a server, too, for the screening room alone, so your guests can order drinks as they watch the movie. It’s fantastic!
People came from every area of my life. It was amazing. The only “group” not represented were friends from high school. Old college friends, my sister drove down, my film critic buddies, a cousin of mine and his girlfriend, a friend from my New York Times gig, long-time New York friends, my Bloomsday buddy Therese, and two folks who 1. have read my blog for years, but – and more importantly 2. are actors and artists themselves, whose production of Tennessee Williams’ Two-Character Play – a play I also love – is one of the most memorable theatrical productions I’ve ever attended. The fact that they showed up – with flowers, no less! – was so touching to me! The funniest thing was: my friend Allison and I had been having a hilarious text exchange an hour and a half before the screening. A situation had come up in her life and she had texted me to tell me she was sorry, she couldn’t make the screening. I was like, No worries, we can watch it together some other time. Then began this text exchange which would defy description, especially to anyone who doesn’t know us, that left the two of us guffawing with laughter, and all we could do was text the words “Laughing out loud” “Dying over here …” “Lol” and on and on. She was like, “Okay, I’ll let you go – so sorry I can’t be there!” Cut to 45 minutes later, I’m standing outside the bar/screening room, with my sister, a couple other friends, and suddenly, there Allison was, strolling towards us. She had decided: “What the hell. I MUST go to this.” She rallied like a superhero, put her life-situation on hold, and came out to Williamsburg. It was as though she had flown in from Zimbabwe, that was how I reacted. It was awesome that she came. So much fun! There were also two people there – old good friends – David and Jen – who had performed the roles of Jack and Neve in the very first reading of the script (of two of the scenes, the only ones I had written at that point) in New York.
It can be overwhelming to be surrounded by so many people who know you. Also, to have everyone be there for me to watch something I did. I kept telling everyone it was “only 12 minutes long,” – those words were in the invite too – and the first or second thing David said to me when he showed up was, “Stop telling everyone it’s ‘only’ 12 minutes long.” Hahaha. But it was great, the mood was celebratory and I was excited to share the film with everyone.
We only had the screening room for an hour, so I told everyone it was essential to show up on time so there would be time for a QA afterwards. Bless everyone, they all showed up on time. Everyone descended onto Videology in a 10-minute period. My sister drove down from Rhode Island and actually found a parking spot a couple blocks away. If you know the neighborhood, then you know what a miracle that is. The room was dark, with candles on the table, and people sat at the big picnic-type tables, talking. I made a little welcome-thank-you-for-coming speech and then it started.
I stood in the back. I feel distant from the film now (it took a while), and seeing it in the theatre in Albuquerque, filled with strangers, showed to me – in no uncertain terms – that the film works. It’s not that I didn’t think it worked. It’s that I was too close to it to even WATCH it, let alone SEE it. But now I have that distance. Now I can see it, and I can enjoy other people’s reactions. It was so fun to watch it unfold, to hear people bursting out laughing (I am obsessed with the humor in it, and always have been: the tragedy will unfold no matter what, and that also kills people, but I NEED the jokes to land. I NEED IT DESPERATELY.) I don’t have worries anymore that the jokes won’t land. I know that they do. But still: it’s gratifying to hear an entire group of people erupt into surprised laughter. When Jack gestures to the bartender for another round after an awkward moment, people roared. When she started babbling about Tess of the D’Urbervilles people lost it. These were moments I hadn’t thought of as particularly funny. So it was cool to see how closely people were watching/listening.
After the film, Brooke and I went up front and she ran the QA, asking me questions, with other people asking questions, or just responding to what they had seen. Thank you, Brooke! She and I have known one another since college, she’s one of my oldest and dearest friends (some of you might remember when I interviewed Brooke about her job as a casting director), and so here we are, present-day, and she’s moderating a QA for a film I wrote. Life is beautiful like that sometimes. The responses were wonderful. Some people asked questions. Others just started to speak of what they got. Everyone wanted to know “what happened next.” This happened in Albuquerque too and it’s the best comment possible, for me, as a writer. I talked about the filming process, about Brandeaux Tourville the director, and the brilliant cinematographer he brought on, Peter Mosiman. We had a great discussion about the decision to go black-and-white. Everyone really REALLY responded to the visuals. I talked about how we got these two genius actors, how wonderful they were, and the first “rehearsal,” where I Skyped into Los Angeles from New Jersey. Annika and Robert had worked together before, but they hadn’t “read together” my script until that first meeting. And there it was: the whole thing. The two of them, scripts in hand … and it was basically a final product already. What you see on the screen in the final version, was what I saw over my iPhone-Skype that night. They clicked in instantly, to one another, and to the 12-minute arc of that conversation. They’re both brilliant.
Afterwards, we all hung out in the bar, talking and catching up. I got to hear everyone’s reactions, thoughts, opinions. I love to hear what people “got.” I just listen and shut up, because I don’t want to explain myself. It’s more important that the thing lives on its own, that people have whatever reaction they have without me saying, “Well, actually what I meant in that moment was THIS.” It’s not mine anymore. Everyone “gets” different things. It’s a romance. People bring their own lives to it. Everyone sees different things. That’s what I want to happen.
Jean and I drove back to my place. It was 1 in the morning. I haven’t been up that late since … well, last year, when we filmed the movie. We crashed, then woke up in the morning, had coffee, and took a long walk around the reservoir near my house. The weather was beautiful. I felt happy. I have a good life and I am very proud of the film. So happy to share it with people.
To quote Tennessee Williams’ constant refrain: “En Avant!”
“I’ve wrestled with alligators. I’ve tussled with a whale.
I done handcuffed lightning and thrown thunder in jail.
You know I’m bad. Just last week, I murdered a rock,
injured a stone, hospitalized a brick.
I’m so mean, I make medicine sick.”
— Muhammad Ali
I wrote a longer piece about this legend, this hero, this kind and brilliant and generous man, and it’ll go up later today on Rogerebert.com. I’ll post a link when it’s live. Update: Here it is: Always The Greatest: Remembering Muhammad Ali.
In the meantime: Kindred spirits. Good friends. They had a lot in common.
Elvis and Ali
I found this article, about the tributes paid to Muhammad Ali in Ennis, Ireland, his ancestral town, extremely moving.
And this clip, which I have linked to again and again, and watched it even more, because I can’t get enough of it. It’s sheer electric happiness and affection, palpable, an energy field … it rubs off on me every time I watch.
Everyone: you need to see this movie. Filmed on a micro-budget. Like, micro-micro. But stylistically bold as hell, and stylistic with a PURPOSE. Mysterious movie. Very creepy, thought-provoking, and deep. I can’t stop thinking about it. First-time director. No professional actors. Amazing. It’s opened in limited release as of today, but keep your eyes peeled for it. This is one you do NOT want to miss.
:
, I can’t recommend it highly enough. There’s a Big Star chapter, of course, but there’s so much more. It’s basically about the history of the Memphis music scene in the 20th century – focusing on what else was going on there BESIDES Elvis. Gordon is from Memphis, a musician, a wonderful storyteller, knows the subject first-hand. Wonderful book. 
.)
