Yes, I know it's a cover song - and yes, I know a lot of people think that Bruce's version pales in comparison to the 1979 original by Suicide. That's OK. I wouldn't have any qualms about including this version on a career-spanning Best Of by Bruce.
But of course it was the video for the song that really connected me with it. This is the sort of thing that an artist lesser than Bruce Springsteen might not be able to get away with. But for him, it made perfect sense. I don't know the full story behind the video, but one has to wonder whether Thom Zimny came up with the concept after turning his camera on the crowd to get their reactions to what they were hearing.
Nearly 40 - Forty! - years ago, Greil Marcus wrote, "The implicit promise of a Bruce Springsteen concert is that This Is What It's All About - This Is the Rock." Going on, Marcus observes:
Having posited a tradition Springsteen performs as if every bit of it is backing him up - rooting for him. This allows him to hit the boards as if his status as a rock 'n roll star is both privileged and ordinary, and the result onstage is a unique combination of authority and prank. It means that at his finest, Springsteen can get away with almost anything, stuff that coming from anyone else would seem hopelessly corny and contrived - and that he can come up with stuff to get away with that most rockers since Little Richard would be embarrassed even to have thought of.
You get a sense of that watching the video - but in the end, it's the song that ties it all together. Bruce Springsteen has lived a dream, and the rest of us have had the privilege to hop on board every once in a while.
Top 50 Songs of the Decade, #35 - "Dream Baby Dream," Bruce Springsteen.
Without a doubt, this is the oldest song on the list. "The Wayfaring Stranger" dates back to the early 19th Century, and has been recorded and sung by countless artists - Burl Ives, Johnny Cash, Jack White, Natalie Merchant, Emmylou Harris...the list is endless.
This is a remarkable recording. In my last post I wrote about the emotions that music evokes. The emotions this song elicits are so powerful that they become a physical force. When Rhiannon Giddens reaches the last verse and the line, "I'm going home to meet my savior...", it's overwhelming. And that last note which Francesco Turrisi draws from his accordion...miraculous is the only word that does it justice.
A live performance:
And the original recording:
Top 50 Songs of the Decade, #36 - "Wayfaring Stranger," Rhiannon Giddens with Francesco Turrisi.
Hypnotic. That's really the best word to describe this song.
And this is a remarkable video. It reminds me of one that you'll be seeing in a few days. This is the kind of raw emotion that music is supposed to elicit from those who are listening.
Top 50 Songs of the Decade, #37 - "i love you," Billie Eilish.
Right before Christmas in 2011 - I'm thinking it was probably December 23 - I found myself needing to make one last run to Target, in search of trinkets (and the like) for gifts. Before heading out on this dubiously thought-out excursion, I made a general announcement to the family, to find out if anyone else needed me to pick up something. Son #2 asked if I could pick up a copy of Eric Church's album "Chief" for him. When I expressed surprise - he'd never shown any inclination to enjoy country music in the past - he said it was for a friend who was a fan. OK, no problem.
Fast forward to Christmas morning, when we're taking turns playing Santa and opening gifts from each other. I'm handed a wrapped gift that is obviously a CD, and by now I've pretty much figured out what it's going to be. Yep, "Chief" by Eric Church. Definitely a Hall of Fame Christmas moment.
Funny how a melody sounds like a memory Like the soundtrack to a July Saturday night Springsteen
Hopefully, everyone has songs that evoke memories so powerful that sometimes they hurt - even if the memory is a pleasant one. That's what music is all about. And that's what Eric Church is singing about in "Springsteen." Clearly he loves Bruce and his music, but it's also about the life he was living at the time those songs were on the radio.
Top 50 Songs of the Decade, #38 - "Springsteen," Eric Church.
Rather than reinvent the wheel, for this song I'm reprinting something that I wrote more than four years ago, shortly after Kendrick Lamar's To Pimp a Butterfly was released. Under normal circumstances I'd tinker with the wording, but this seems to be OK.
...Today I want to focus on "How Much a Dollar Cost," which I've had on continuous loop in my head for the past four days. Even before I was entirely certain of what Lamar was saying in the song, the music drew me in. Finding words to do it justice are difficult. "Ominous" comes to mind, but also "stately," "compelling" and ultimately "thrilling." Hearing it for the first time (during my commute into work, and I immediately proceeded to listen to it four consecutive times), I felt the thrill that comes with hearing a song you suspect on first listen will become an enduring classic. That doesn't happen too often, and when it does it's with a song like "Gimmie Shelter," "Every Breath You Take" or "Rolling in the Deep." That's the kind of power the song held, which was only strengthened when I - with the help of Genius.com - began to hear and understand what the song was all about.
The song begins with the narrator, who has just "parked his luxury car," encountering a homeless man on the streets of South Africa, who asks him for ten rand (roughly, $1). The assumption in the first verse is that the dollar will go towards crack:
Contributin' money for his pipe, I couldn't see it He said, "My son, temptation is one thing that I've defeated Listen to me I want a single bill from you Nothin' less, nothin' more" I told him I ain't havin' it and closed my door Tell me how much a dollar cost
In the second verse, the man won't stand down, and the narrator feels a growing sense of frustration:
I never understood someone beggin' for goods Askin' for handouts, takin' it if they could And this particular person just had it down pat Starin' at me for the longest until he finally asked Have you ever opened up Exodus 14? A humble man is all that we ever need Tell me how much a dollar cost
Near the end of the first two verses, you begin to hear a voice, almost hiding in the background, with what can almost describe as a plaintive moan. On my first few listens I didn't even notice it, but once I did I couldn't get it out of my head - haunting may be the best way to describe it.
In the final verse, the narrator questions himself but then increases the intensity of his attacks on the man, until the dramatic and unexpected climax:
The jig is up, I seen you from a mile away losin' focus And I'm insensitive, and I lack empathy He looked at me and said "Your potential is bittersweet" I looked at him and said "Every nickel is mines to keep" He looked at me and said, "Know the truth, it'll set you free You're lookin' at the Messiah, the son of Jehovah, the higher power The choir that spoke the word, the Holy Spirit The nerve of Nazareth, and I'll tell you how much a dollar cost The price of having a spot in Heaven, embrace your loss, I am God"
And at this moment, Kendrick hands the song to Ronald Isley, who sings a beautiful plea for forgiveness that ends with these words:
Shades of grey will never change if I condone Turn this page, help me change, so right my wrongs
Powerful doesn't do the song justice, and this is just one of many great (if complex, and sometimes hard to hear) moments on the record. No doubt, To Pimp a Butterfly is an album of great depth, one that both speaks to the times and reacts to them.
Jason Isbell's story is one of redemption; one of triumph. Fired by the Drive-By Truckers in 2007 for his tendency to be a drunken jerk, his career really took off over the past decade, after he cleaned himself up, no doubt with a huge assist from Amanda Shires, who had a pretty good decade of her own. His band's album "The Nashville Sound" was the best record of 2017, and before that he'd scored with consecutive killers, "Southeastern" and "Something More Than Free."
He's got a great sense of humor, evidenced by his concert patter and almost daily on his Twitter feed. But this song is 100 percent serious, and the video helpfully includes the lyrics so it's easy to follow along.
Top 50 Songs of the Decade, #40 - "Hope the High Road," Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit.
"Foxing is an American indie rock band from St. Louis, Missouri." So begins the band's Wikipedia page, but that description hardly seems to do them justice. Mind you, I'm not quite sure how I'd characterize them either - is "American indie art rock band" a valid category? And even that isn't entirely accurate. Maybe when you can't pigeonhole an artist, that's a good thing.
The first time I heard this song - on the video you see above - I knew it was right up my alley. I immediately texted the link to two friends - one of whom shared my enthusiasm, the other who responded, "I gave up after two minutes. I don't get it." And I understand that. It's not exactly mainstream.
The Thanksgiving holiday weekend isn't over yet, so I want to close this post by acknowledging and extending thanks to Michele Catalano for introducing me to Foxing. We've never met, but she's one of the handful of people that I've read/connected with on social media since beginning this blog 13 years ago. She's an excellent writer - you can read her essays at Medium (https://medium.com/@inthefade), or follow her on Twitter @inthefade. Her music tastes don't always merge with my own, but I've bought (and really liked) several records based on her recommendations. So...thank you, Michele.
Top 50 Songs of the Decade, #41 - "Grand Paradise," Foxing.
Without a doubt, The National would be on my short list of Artists of the Decade. Since 2010, they've released four albums that range from very good to outstanding: High Violet, Trouble Will Find Me, Sleep Well Beast and I Am Easy to Find. If this list went to #100, there would be at least two more of their songs making the cut. But even though this song is from what is my least favorite album of theirs in the decade, it is the single best song they've recorded during the period.
"Bloodbuzz, Ohio," The National, clocking in at #42.
The first Yo La Tengo album I bought was on vinyl, and I don't mean the recent return of vinyl as a dominant musical format. I mean vinyl back when it was in its initial death throes, and those of a certain age became nostalgic because now we were going to have to buy our music on these CD things, which weren't even close to being as aesthetically pleasing.
In other words, it was a long time ago.
"Fade" is a great album, probably my favorite of theirs. This is my favorite song on it.
Top 50 Songs of the Decade, #43 - "The Point of It."
It had been so long since Cal had won The Big Game that I'd almost forgotten what it felt like. To lend perspective, Barack Obama had been President for less than a year. My, how much has changed since then.
Jeff Tedford was Cal's coach, and their 2009 victory on the Farm was the Bears' seventh Big Game triumph in eight years. It seemed at the time that the good times would never end. Except when they did, the following year.
A 9-year losing streak was bad enough, but making it even worse was the fact that very few of those games even approached being competitive. No, the Cardinal pretty much kicked our ass for a decade.
With yesterday's thrilling 24-20 win - the Bears never held the lead until Garbers' touchdown scramble with 1:19 left in the game - Cal is bowl-eligible for a second straight year. This year had the potential to be much more, but key injuries brought the team down a peg. But no question, Justin Wilcox has the team on the right track. If you're a Cal fan, you can't really complain about a season where you went to a bowl game and beat Stanford.
And it's been a long time since we've been able to say that.
The best Bob Dylan album of the decade was recorded by a 72-year old African American woman. Well, of course it was.
A few years back I was lucky enough to be invited to participate in Jack Gallagher and Tommy Dunbar's podcast, "5 Songs." At some point during our conversation, I commented that my approach to music was that the best song ever written "was somewhere out there, but I just haven't heard it yet." It's not a perfect comparison, but Bettye Lavette is a good example of that. She's been out there forever, and it wasn't until I saw her 2018 album included in Greil Marcus' "Real Life Rock Top Ten" column that she was introduced to me. That's to my discredit.
The great thing about her song choices on the album is that, with one notable exception, she didn't go for the obvious songs. To be fair, Dylan did win an Oscar for this song, but if you picked out 100 music fans and asked them to write down their Top Ten Dylan songs, I'd hazard a guess that this one wouldn't be on too many lists.
It's also a classic example of an artist, in a cover version, making the song their own. My guess is that Dylan himself prefers this version.
Top 50 Songs of the Decade, #44 - "Things Have Changed," Bettye Lavette.
Chris Stapleton had been around forever, and outside of the country music world, very few people had heard of him. Then he sang with Justin Timberlake at the Country Music Awards in 2016, and all of a sudden he was everywhere. It's an old story, and one of the best - the songwriter toiling behind the scenes, who all of a sudden becomes a superstar himself. Think Willie Nelson.
This is a big claim, but I really think that "The Devil Named Music" is the best road song since Bob Seger's "Turn the Page." The themes are similar. Seger's great song starts like this:
On a long and lonesome highway
East of Omaha
You can listen to the engine
moanin' out his one note song
Stapleton leads with this:
We drove all night to Billings, Montana
Flew into Utah, slept there all day
I can't remember stopping in Denver
Yeah, I live my illusion that somebody needs to me play
And then, compare the key verse from Seger:
Here I am, on the road again
There I am, up on the stage
Here I go, playin' star again
There I go, turn the page
With the key verse from Stapleton:
And sometimes I'm drunk
And sometimes I'm stoned
And yes, I get tired of being alone
I miss my daughter
And I miss my wife
But the devil named music is taking my life.
Like Seger before him, Stapleton toiled for a long time in relative obscurity, and we are blessed to have songs depicting that life from both of them.
#45, Top 50 Songs of the Decade: "The Devil Named Music," Chris Stapleton.
I've said before that David Bowie never quite had a direct line to my heart like he did for so many others. But there's no questioning his greatness; if you want to use the word "genius" I won't complain and I won't argue.
This is the last song on the last album that Bowie recorded. "Blackstar," much like Warren Zevon's "The Wind," was incredible as much for its circumstances as for its songs. Like Zevon, Bowie knew he was dying when he recorded it. That one can argue that it was his best album - which I think you can - is a miracle.
"I Can't Give Everything Away" isn't just the album's last song - it's the album's best song. It is an example of everything that David Bowie did well during his remarkable and historic career.
It's time to pick up the pace on this little project.
Today, let's talk about The New Pornographers. How about that band name? It never fails to get a reaction when I include one of their songs on one of my compilations, and one has to wonder how many potential fans have quickly walked away in the record store when they see it.
In a perfect world, they'd be a gosh darn hit machine. There may not be another band in the last twenty years that's created songs with such great hooks. The musicianship is terrific, and the vocal interplay among the band's members is downright awe-inspiring. When it comes to bands from Canada, they just might be the very best. They've never recorded an album quite as good as "Neon Bible" or "The Suburbs" by Arcade Fire, but "Challengers" (2008) came close, and overall their output has been more consistent. Call it a draw.
And for a bonus, here's the recorded version.
"This Is the World of the Theatre," The New Pornographers. The #47 song of the decade.
Sports have always had a way of breaking your heart. A disappointing season; a painful loss; a favorite player being traded or moving away via free agency. There are myriad ways it can happen. And, perhaps because of the way we are wired as humans, we remember those moments far more than we remember the good times. As a fan of Bay Area teams for most of my life, I've got nothing to complain about - five Super Bowl championships for the 49ers, three World Series championships for the Giants, a similar number for the Athletics and Raiders back when I was a kid and rooted for all the Bay Area teams equally.
And while those were great moments, none of it completely washed out the memory of the 2002 World Series (dear Lord, please don't let him face another batter), the 1983 NFC Championship Game (that was NOT pass interference!), or the 1990 NFC Championship Game (Jeez, Roger Craig, just hold on to the ball, and we win - is that really too much to ask?). It's not logical, it's not rational - but it is what it is.
But the worst way to break the heart of a sports fan is for an entire team to leave. Just ask fans of the Brooklyn Dodgers, the Seattle Supersonics, the Los Angeles Rams, the St. Louis Rams, the St. Louis Football Cardinals, the Montreal Expos...
And the Oakland Raiders and San Diego Chargers.
Back in 1980, the Raiders and the Chargers were the two best teams in football. They played an AFC Championship game that year which was much more memorable than the Super Bowl that was played two weeks later. There were nine future Hall of Famers on the field that day: Gene Upshaw, Art Shell, Ted Hendricks, Dave Casper, Ray Guy, Dan Fouts, Kellen Winslow, Charlie Joiner, and Fred Dean. Also on the field that day were two players that won the Heisman Trophy: Jim Plunkett and John Cappaletti. Pro Bowl players on the field that day included Mark Van Eeghen, Cliff Branch, Bob Chandler, Raymond Chester, John Matuszak, Matt Millen, Lester Hayes, John Jefferson, Louie Kelcher, and Gary Johnson. The coaches were Tom Flores and Don Coryell.
Two landmark teams. Two landmark franchises. And soon, both to be gone, perhaps forever.
The Raiders and the Chargers played a game last night. The Chargers now play in Los Angeles, but Troy Aikman called them "San Diego" at least once. And that's only right - because for those who believe in fairness and justice, they will always be the San Diego Chargers. It may have been the best game of the season, so far. It was far from perfect. But it had the atmosphere of the greatest games - an atmosphere that you rarely see in the regular season. It was glorious.
And, barring a postseason appearance, it was the last prime time game that will ever be played at the Oakland - Alameda County Coliseum. And that is a shame. And there is plenty of shame to go around: the families that own the teams, the greed-based mindset that guides the NFL in the 21st Century. Since there is no fan base for the Chargers in Los Angeles, I doubt that I'm offending anyone by suggesting that L.A. does not deserve this team. And while I'm sure there are many fine, dedicated football fans in Las Vegas, they do not deserve the Raiders.
For me, they will always be the OAKLAND Raiders and the SAN DIEGO Chargers. Perhaps in my lifetime, they will be again. After all, it happened once before. This time, I'm not holding my breath.
How much does one need to know about a song to enjoy and appreciate it? Is it better to have all the background, all the facts? Or should you just let the mystery and the music envelop you?
John Paul White on the song:
"That song probably does sum us up - The Civil Wars, the name of the band - as well as any song that we've written. We're all married, and we were all talking about the good, the bad and the ugly, and just felt like: What would you say to someone if you were actually brutally honest - the things that you could never say because it would turn them away or let the cat of the bag or reveal yourself to be weaker? What would you actually say if you had this invisible curtain around you and could just scream it in somebody's face and they'd actually never hear it? We were all being very painful honest, because we're very comfortable around each other and know that things like that never leave the room, except in a song. I'm pretty proud of that song, to be honest."
In the case of "Poison & Wine," there may have been a little foreshadowing involved as well. The duo stuck together for one album after "Barton Hollow" (on which this song appeared), and then called it a quits right in the middle of a tour.
It's not a word I'd often use to describe a song, but this one is exquisite. And even if you set the lyrics and the meaning aside, you can indeed just let the music wash over you.
