With Apologies to Lou Vega: 5 songs with numbers to count us in
A very loose theme to start this off.
I can’t burn a good theme right out of the gate. It will also take a little while to find my voice with this. So let’s consider this first entry as a light jog around the block, surveying some of the ground I intend to explore: Covers! New(-ish) stuff! Classics! Classical? Why not?. These songs will count us in, with numbers one through five right there in the title.
Bad Radio - “One Step Up” (Bruce Springsteen Cover)
In Pearl Jam’s history, there’s a lot of attention given to Green River, Mother Love Bone, and even Temple of the Dog. Less so for Bad Radio, Eddie Vedder’s pre-Pearl Jam band—and they had his songs. Here they are doing a faithful version of Springsteen’s “One Step Up,” from Tunnel of Love. It’s one of Springsteen’s more underrated and understated songs. The Boss doesn’t play it much live (it ranks below a bunch of songs from the Seeger Sessions). I wonder if that’s because most people want to hear Bruce singing about being a loser only if that loser has a glimmer of hope, even if misplaced? The softer, lower range of Eddie’s voice shines here. It rides the melody nicely without getting into some of his more melodramatic tendencies. And it’s got some of the same DNA as that “Better Man” demo.
Flock of Dimes - "Two” (Tiny Desk at Home)
I have to admit I struggled over sharing this version over the studio version, but I’ve done so for three reasons:
It’s a perfect showcase for Jenn Wasner’s incredible voice. It packs so much layered emotion, she can make Danzig’s “Mother” sound like it could be in an Andrew Lloyd Weber musical (one of the darker ones).
Looking like a cult I wouldn’t necessarily join, but would gladly drop in on for wellness checks, the group hanging out in the living room is a Who’s Who of 2010s indie, including members of Bon Iver, Sylvan Esso, Mountain Man, and Hiss Golden Messenger. In addition to her solo work as Flock of Dimes and as part of Wye Oak, Wasner herself has been a touring member of a number of these groups.
If I’m being honest, the real reason I picked it is the guy playing guitar upside down like Elizabeth Cotton.
While the breezy sweetness of the recorded version is there, what’s missing in the Tiny Desk version is the subtle math rock guitar and layers of bubbling percussion. “Two” is the first song in the set, so treat yourself to the rest of it and you would be hard pressed not to be in a good mood.
Bauhaus - “Third Uncle” (Brian Eno cover)
In recording the original, Eno used his Oblique Strategies technique to bring some spontaneity and experimentation to his process. It involves cards to guide different players with each take that give directions like “emphasize the mistake”, “mechanicalize something idiosyncratic,” or “listen to the quiet voice.” Eno described the resulting album Taking Tiger Mountain (by Strategy) as “an expression of idiot glee.” To my ears, there’s a bit more idiot and a bit more glee in Bauhaus’ version. Where Eno sounds like a guy spouting droll nonsense, Peter Murphy sounds like a guy spouting droll nonsense like he believes it. The tinny, sharp power chords and the flat drum sound is a signature of 70s punk. I wish recordings still sounded this way.
Nina Simone - “Four Women”
With the opening lines, “My skin is black/ My arms are long/ My hair is woolly/ My back is strong” it seems Nina Simone is singing about herself. This song was written as a tribute to the four girls murdered in the bombing of 16th St. Baptist Church in 1963. For a person known for their take-no-shit defiance, and in comparison to the righteous fury of “Mississippi Goddamn” (inspired by the bombing and the murder of Medgar Evers), what’s striking here is the restraint in the music and the arrangement—at least for the first three minutes. Simone makes use of the tango rhythm to build tension. Criss-crossing multiple genres, and the force of her performance—I could do multiple entries of just Nina Simone. For now, we’ll leave it to this.
Wild Up / Julius Eastman - Femenine: No. 5, All Changing
This is one of those rare finds among year-end best-of lists that is not in your normal wheelhouse, but strikes a chord. Julius Eastman was a composer working in the 1970s. He was a close friend of Arthur Russell (who will certainly come up in the future), and that was probably mentioned in the review, and the likely reason I gave it a listen. Neither man would get the recognition or following he deserved until they were both long dead. Due to addiction and mental illness, Eastman spent his final years homeless before his death in 1990. Wild Up is a group of 20-odd classical musicians now committed to reviving Eastman’s work. This is section of one piece, and there are many. Doing a small bit of research, articles mention Eastman being a minimalist, but this is anything but. There is a lot going on. And like a lot of post-rock, the repetition and momentum is perpetually on the verge of a catharsis that never quite arrives. It’s beautiful and exciting, but at the same induces a bit of anxiety. It would not be out of place in a Paul Thomas Anderson movie.
Thanks for making it this far. Have a good week, and please share or forward to anyone you think would be interested.
Eric