my songbook pt. 2

Time for another entry into my own personal songbook/mixtape/blog. Today's song:

"Fell On Black Days" - Soundgarden (1994)



I mentioned in my previous blog that the reason I never heard of Jeff Buckley was because I was too busy listening to Seattle grunge. I must qualify that to recognize that in my middle school days, as these were, my musical scope rarely extended off the Billboard top 100 charts. Its not as if I was a diehard grunge fan.

I listened to the radio. Grunge was all over the radio. I didn't grow my hair long, although I did try to bang my head to Stone Temple Pilots, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, etc. I did occasionally rock some flannel, but it wasn't a daily look. Its a little sickening to think that the only reason I liked grunge music is because so many other people did.

But the truth is...I've made no real music discoveries over my life. Since my iPod dominates my life, I no longer listen to the radio. MTV no longer plays music videos (that I know of) so I can't so easily glean my music from them. There are several musicians that hooked me back in those glory days that I still keep up with when they come out with new albums (side note I'm really digging the new Ben Folds album "Way to Normal"). I've realized now I've become hooked on accompanying music. Music that accompanies TV shows, movies, commercials. So I'm only indirectly choosing the music that I like. I'm thankful for the music supervisors of the world. The Stepanie Savages and Zack Braff's of this world.

What I can take solace in, is that my fandom is only rarely skin deep. Soundgarden's 1994 album Superunknown was hugely successful thanks in most part to its most popular singles "Black Hole Sun" and "Spoonman" Not to bag on those two songs, but most of their weight is based in a hella-creepy music video (that still turns my stomach a little bit) and a kitchen utensil gimmick.

From maybe the second go-round through my cassette, I was certain that "Fell On Black Days" was my favorite track. Chris Cornell's silky voice was most certainly the best of the era (I can't say that without mentioning that Scott Weiland comes in a very close second). This track serves as a ridiculous oppurtunity to show off his terrific range. It opens with that smooth guitar hook by Kim Thayill. For about two-thirds of the song Cornell sings softly yet firmly, but in the last bit he elevates to a controlled scream that still manages to sit under the actual music.

The song was written by Cornell and he describes it as "like this ongoing fear I've had for years...It's a feeling that everyone gets. You're happy with your life, everything's going well, things are exciting - when all of a sudden you realise you're unhappy in the extreme, to the point of being really, really scared." Reading that quote it suddenly makes sense why I identified with that song so well.

Soundgarden is the one band of that Seattle gringe mid 90's boon whose arch ended abruptly as I moved on to high school. Sure some of the others had bigger stories. Nirvana's lead singer stopped making new music, but new Nirvana CD's continued to come out. It always seemed weird to me that Dave Grohl fronted a popular band after Nirvana...why not stick to drums (maybe thats why I liked Queens of the Stone Age). Scott Weiland has had some trouble keeping out of prison, but he's back with STP. Getting to see them in October 2000 at Voodoo Fest was a special treat. He was clean and they played almost an entirely mid-90's set. My love for Smashing Pumpkins was partially shattered when I discovered Billy Corigan is a really spotty live performer. Pearl Jam wavers in and out of my interest. One good album, a bad one, a good one again; I stopped depending on them, (however Eddie Vedder's score for Into the Wild was amazing).

When the first whiff of the formation of Audioslave, featuring Chris Cornell back in the saddle with Tom Morello and the other parts of Rage Against the Machine, hit me I nearly cried tears of joy. And the marriage of those two rock dynamo's was a smashing success. I enjoyed all three albums they released; however the third was weak enough that it was no surprise that the supergroup wouldn't last too much longer.

I do still find myself longing for the old Soundgarden though. No offense to you and your politics Morello. RATM doesn't occupy the same time in my life as Soundgarden does. I was on the cusp of my musical awakening that I would experience my freshman year of high school. When I learned that I could listen to older music and enjoy it more than the songs on the radio. When I could listen to Led Zeppelin and hear pieces of of contemporary artists.

Listening to "Fell On Black Days" reminds me of time when my tastes were simpler. When all things in my life were simpler.

my songbook pt. 1

So I am currently reading the book Songbook by Nick Hornby. This is the limey bastard that wrote the literary inspirations for About a Boy, Fever Pitch, and most famously High Fidelity. This book is a collection of 31 essays on different popular music songs. In the first essay that is termed the introduction, Hornby describes a spectacular realization regarding why certain important songs are associated with certain feelings and sensations:

"If you love a song, love it enough for it to accompany you throughout different stages in your life, then any specific memory is rubbed away by use."

Not all of the 31 songs he pines about take him back to simply a certain place and time. But that happens for all of us. My father asked me some years ago to make him mix CD with several classic rock songs. As he listened the the finished product he talked about some of the tracks in particular and how they reminded him of his days in high school and so on. I realized that these associations explain my enjoyment of these silly "I love the 80's" shows on VH1. But I digress...back to Hornby's essays.

Some correspond to revelations in his personal and professional life. The end result, this book comes off like a mixtape of essays, much like a compliation lovingly constructed by Hornby's Fidelity character Rob Gordon. I was only about 5 essays into the book, when I thought that I could create a collection within this blog. One that would very much be my own.

I don't know how many songs I will end up featuring (the first shortlist I've compiled features ten songs, I figure I may find about five more). My big fight will be keeping movie chatter out of these blogs. I will try to limit focusing on songs that I have interacted with majorly having to do with movies.

I encourage you who read to comment on the blog...if you have a particular take on the song or the subject on the blog. I would also love to read your own mixtape of songs.

The first song I've decided to talk about is:

"Hallelujah" -- Jeff Buckley

This haunting cover of Leonard Cohen's 1984 song is my favorite version of the song even though its not the first version I ever heard. A quick iTunes search reveals that I have 7 different versions of this song in my collection (of the reported 170 different versions that have been produced. There is one other song in my collection that I have so many versions of...that I will also talk about soon enough.

Hallelujah has come to be known as a soundtrack song. Not a year goes by that it isn't featured in some movie of television show to underscore an emoitional celluloid moment. Its melancholy tone lends it to many emotional scenes to denote depression. Or it can be flipped with certain lyrics like my favorite "I used to live alone before I knew you" or "her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you" to partner with romantic undertones. Even Letterman used it recently in a homage to Paul Newman.

Truth is it is a beautiful song that blipped on my radar because of its use in the movie Shrek. I had recently bought a Rufus Wainwright album for my sister, and was captivated by his vocal ability. I recognized his voice, listening to the song in the film, and sought to learn more about this incredible song.

This was a time in my life when I began to fully utilize the internet to expand my knowledge of the music that intrigued me. A search revealed that this song was in fact written by Leonard Cohen, whose was responsible for another of my favorite songs "Everybody Knows." Thus began my long love affair with cover songs that were better than their orignials.

I was dissatisfied with Cohen's version of the song, but soon discovered that their were many others. Some of them were terrible (Bono's makes my ears bleed), but others like Buckley's were transcendent. Its remarkable when a cover of a good song can make it great or even swallow up the original entirely. Hendrix's take on Dylan's "All Along the Watchtower" is leagues better (it blew my mind when I found out that wasn't a Hendrix song). Other times, its a cheap ploy by a struggling artist: Jessica Simpson singing "These Boots are Made for Walking" comes to mind first).

But the reason this song has stayed with me is the ensuing things I found out about Jeff Buckley. An American singer/songwirter whose light was extinguished way too early. His album Grace came out in 1994, when I was too busy listening to Seattle grunge to pay attention to this soft singer's genius. This artist I had never heard of is to this day in the mixtapes and CD players of my idols. His stamp on music grows because he took Cohen's song and elevated it into the stratosphere, so that those who create art (movies, tv, etc.) constantly look to it for an emotional punch.

It reminds me how so many of us long to make an impact on the world, even if its the softest impact imaginable.

...Next song coming soon... :)

mad about Mad Men

its embarrassing to admit that I wanted nothing to do with the AMC TV series Mad Men at first glance. It idea of rehashing and glorifying 1960's Manhattan held no appeal for me. I decided that I would try and watch the show solely because one of the featured players was a relatively unknown actress named Christina Hendricks.

I had more or less fallen in love with Hendricks during her three episode arc on the failed Joss Whedon sci-fi western series Firefly. She was a conniving grifter buried in the gorgeous body of a voluptuous redhead. I am a true sucker for redheads in all forms of media and in my everyday life so the hook was not so hard to set. I was depressed to find that she had done very little mainstream work other than Firefly at the time, so when he image showed up in the promos for this period drama I became mildly interested. Turns out she can fill out the clothes of the period quite nicely.



So I randomly tuned in one night last year to what turned out to be episode 8 of 13 from the first season. The show moves a very deliberate pace, and because I was not up to speed with the subtlety of the characters involved I lost interest very quickly and dismissed the show.

Then the accolades at the end of season awards shows began to trickle in and I wondered what I had missed. The lead actor Jon Hamm defeated the favorite Hugh Laurie for the Golden Globe, and the show beat out Grey's for best drama. The SAG awards probably should have followed, but they became a ridiculous love-fest for the Sopranos.

So I queued up the first season in netflix and decided to take a closer look. The first episode "The Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" had me from the opening scene. Jon Hamm as Creative Director at Sterling Cooper (an advertising agency on Madison Avenue; ad men on Madison = Mad Men) is the epitome of all that is cool about the 1960's he's well put together, and well off, with the perfect life. He's unfaithful to his wife like so many men of his stature are in that era, but we learn throughout the series that he doesn't just troll the nightclubs for a nightly tryst; he seeks independent, complete women. These affairs contrast the vapid home life provided by his cookie-cutter housewife. As the layers are peeled back from Draper's character we find him to be anything but the man he projects.

Another character that piqued my interest was the brand new secretary Peggy Olson played by Elisabeth Moss. Olson, fresh from secretarial school, is assigned to Draper. She is wide-eyed and conservative. She's shown the ropes by the vampish office manager Joan Holloway (played by the aforementioned Hendricks) Holloway gives her tips on how to use her femininity to receive small perks around the office, and even recommends her a doctor. Olson also shows character progression, by proving to be more than a secretary, producing copy for two ad campaigns, leading to a promotion at the end of the season. She represents a remarkable duality of a woman who can think for herself, even though she has been raised to be subservient, but who makes the same mistakes of other women in her place despite her uniqueness.

The shows appeal lies in the 1960's cliches that reflect glaringly against today's ideals. Every character smokes cigarettes almost every chance they get, as the dangers of tobacco have yet to be fully realized. The workers at Sterling Cooper barely hide the bottles of liquor in their desks, and partake regularly throughout the workday. One almost believes that they rarely do any actual work. Yet many issues that are still pertinent today are addressed: closeted sexual orientation, marital infidelity, women empowerment in the workplace, escaping a family name, sexism, etc.

But ultimately the series is about our love affair with words, and our desire as a culture to be sold. Ad men make their living on that perfect catch phrase that lassoes the unsuspecting housewife into choosing one brand over the other. The breaking down of the advertising process is intoxicating, and no one seems to know the game better than Don Draper.

I was given chills by his pitch in the final episode of the first season, called "The Wheel." He was producing a campaign for Kodak's new slide projector, in which he must incorporate the new wheel mechanism they have introduced. He mocks the obvious choice other ad agencies would use ("Kodak has clearly re-invented the wheel"). He then delivers a breath-taking pitch while he showed slides of his own family vacation to the Kodak executives (I've broken the lines as it was delivered; with each break pausing for the changing of the slide:

"This device isn't a space ship,
its a time machine.
It goes backwards and forwards;
it takes us to a place where we ache to go again.
Its not called the wheel;
its called the Carosuel,
it lets us travel the way a child travels.
Round and around and back home again.
to a place where we know we are loved."



Its impossible to replicate Hamm's dynamite delivery, or to explain how the words are drowning in personal meaning, as their are several plot lines that hinge on these very words.

All I can say is the show is incredible and I can't wait to see more.