brainsplotch

U2 had a new album out, Songs of Experience , so I have decided to go back and revisit their back catalog. U2: War . Sometimes it’s hard to remember a time when U2 wasn’t huge, though they were getting there with War. They were still the earnest and idealistic young Irishmen and not yet the established corporate dad rockers of today. And in 1983, they were virtually unknown in my little corner of the world: Michigan’s Thumb region. It’s even more mind-blowing when I ponder the fact that I’ve been listening to this band since I was about 17-years-old, and now I’m almost 50—and they are still together making music. Our school was dominated in the eighties by the likes of Ratt, Motley Crue, Def Leppard, Van Halen, and Quiet Riot.   If U2 were thought of at all, it was as prissy sensitive boys who definitely didn’t rock as hard as the metal gods adored by most of the people in my school. I kept my U2 fandom to myself for the most part. I didn’t need any more trouble than I a...

I'm trying to shake up this blog a little bit, so this is the first in a series (?) in which I take a random album from my collection, listen to it, and then just briefly discuss it. Nothing deep and profound, the aim is to be conversational. So the first album is the 1968 self-titled debut by English folk-rock band Fairport Convention. I chose this because I happen to be reading record producer Joe Boyd's memoir White Bicycle: Making Music in the 1960s. It's a book I picked up at Elliott Bay Books in Seattle, Washington. (Shameless vacation mention and indie bookstore name drop). Joe Boyd, among many other act including Nick Drake, was behind the board for Fairport Conventions stellar recorded output from 1968 to the early 1970s. I got into Fairport Convention quite by accident. I heard their 1969 album  Liege and Lief at a Borders' listening station sometime in the mid-'90s. I'm pretty sure I'd read a little bit about them before, probably in the R...

I know it's been awhile since I last wrote in here. I am currently plugging away on a "review" of the Tragically Hip's Fully Completely, the fourth installment in my ongoing look at the Hip's discography. Unfortunately, this Fully Completely post has become an albatross. I feel as if I will need to either do some heavy editing or just publish it in two parts. I'm leaning to two parts in order to make it more digestible for anyone who might want to read it. As for when I will hoist this colossus upon my dear readers, I hope within the next week. But we'll see. So what else is new? I'm surviving our Idiot-in-Chief, often trying as much as I can to forget that he is president. It's about the only way to keep my sanity. Still, the man does at least one embarrassing thing every day and he is difficult to ignore. And really when you get down to it, he's too dangerous to completely ignore. I'm cutting this post short because it's getting...

The moment that all Tragically Hip/Gord Downie fans have been dreading since May 2016 happened today: we learned of Gord Downie's death.   After battling terminal brain cancer for almost two years, Gord passed away last night at home, surrounded by family and friends.   I learned the news this morning from the official Tragically Hip Facebook page's post. Even though I knew that this was inevitable, it still came as a shock. A bit like getting the glaucoma "puff of air in the eye" test at the optometrist: even though you know that puff is coming, you still flinch when you get the blast of air in your eyeball. I don't mean to be too flippant with the comparison--clearly death is much more profound than a little test at the optometrist's office--but that's the best I can come up with.   So, if you will, this was a "puff of bad news" and I flinched. Even though I was expecting it, it still was stunning.   The entire day has been...

It's been awhile since I have written in here, but what else is new? When I left off, our president had issued a wishy-washy response to racism in Charlottesville, Virginia. In the month since, we have seen a hurricane ravage Texas, another one punish Florida, and yet another hurricane decimate Puerto Rico. An earthquake has done significant damage in Mexico. North Korea and the U.S. continue to escalate the smack talk and posturing, and our Middle Schooler-In-Chief doesn't help himself much with his juvenile name calling and boasting, though his loyal fanbase eats up his hollow tough guy talk.  Meanwhile, the rest of us wake up each morning in a perpetual state of unease. It's such a crazy world we live in that John McCain, with his resistance to the replace and repeal of the ACA ("Obamacare") has emerged as a voice of reason. Who saw that coming? When I'm not looking at my phone and dreading what I'll see, ("Have the missiles been launched yet...

In a news conference (of sorts) yesterday, Trump reverted back to the nonsense he blurted on Saturday, blaming "both sides" and essentially apologizing for the alt-right (i.e. racists). He even compared famous traitor Robert E. Lee to non-traitor George Washington. (Sorry Confederate apologists, I don't give a damn that he was fighting for old Virginia. I don't care that "life was different" in the 1860s. He took an oath to protect the United States of America and he betrayed that oath). I can't keep up with the lunacy coming out of the Trump White House on a daily basis. The narrative seems to constantly change. Is Trump truly a racist or just that stupid? I don't know, maybe a bit of both. (Actually, there is no doubt in my mind that Trump is a racist).  How the hell does the president of the United States excuse the behavior of white supremacists? If you're Donald Trump, that's what you do. At least Trump has made it perfectly clear wh...

So Trump finally came out and "condemned" the Charlottesville racists. I am not congratulating him. He only did it due to pressure. He did nothing all day Sunday. It took Trump two full days to kind of, sort of "do the right thing" and, let's face it, he only did it because of the justifiably terrible fallout he experienced on Saturday and Sunday. I do not believe there is an ounce of sincerity in his words. If ever there was a litmus test for Trump's true feelings about racism, and how he would respond to overt expressions of racist violence, it was on Saturday in Charlottesville. Trump failed miserably. To make matters worse, after he finished with his statements yesterday, he blew up at a reporter and reverted to his usual petulant child mentality. This guy absolutely cannot make it through a single day without making an ass of himself. That's where we are right now. I'm sure by tomorrow we will have moved on to some new inanity with t...

First of all, it seems that something crazy happens almost every day under the Trump regime, so it's hard to keep it straight. Whether it's James Comey getting fired as FBI director, Sean Spicer getting fired as press secretary, Anthony "The Mooch" Scaramucci--the most cartoonish character in an already cartoonish administration--getting fired within about a week as White House Communications director, Trump inciting North Korea to the brink of a nuclear conflict, or Sunday's tacit approval (or, at best, non-scolding) of neo-Nazis and other racists in Charlottesville, literally something nutty, frightening, and/or infuriating happens essentially every single day under this reign of terror/reign of error. Trump had an opportunity to condemn racist violence in Charlottesville, and he failed miserably. We have a president who will not condemn Nazis. Stew over that for awhile. As the events in Charlottesville unfolded on Saturday morning, and it was clear that t...

It was another long drive to a concert destination, this time one hour and 24 minutes to Kalamazoo. At least Bell's is an easier place to find. It was simply I-69 to I-94, then up Business 94 to Michigan Avenue in downtown K'zoo. So we arrived, and the place was already packed, probably because it was a Friday night. We found a parking spot right near the railroad track behind Bell's, and were able to shoehorn our tiny Kia Soul into this improbable spot. We heard the opening band Seratones warming up as we approached Bell's. This was our first time at Bell's, though I have loved their beer for a long time. They are located in an old brick former factory or warehouse--I'm not sure which. We ordered Oberon inside and a pita bread/hummus appetizer to munch on. The doors to the beer garden opened at 7:00. Outdoor concert. I somehow was hoping/thinking that it was an indoor show. The night was warm, humid and threatening rain. Once we got inside the beer garden...

When I was a freshman at MSU, there were a couple of seniors who lived together in a room a few doors down from me at Shaw Hall. Now, there were plenty of upperclassmen on my dorm floor, but Ken and Steve were the self-appointed corrupters of the freshmen and relished the role. One particular evening, I was in their room drinking their booze. (I can't remember what circumstances brought me to their den of iniquity that night). Also in the room was a girl about my age whom I did not know, and I was unsure as to why she was there or where she was from, but the two of us were in this dark dorm room drinking and listening to Ken and Steve's music. (It must be said that in 1980s college life, it was not uncommon to come across people that seemed to wander into the picture like extras on a movie set, only to disappear as soon as they had arrived, often never to be seen again). At some point, Violent Femmes' self-titled debut album was the music of choice. The girl's face ...

I live in the land Of cracked blacktop Driveway basketball hoops Car engine drive by dopplar effect Gas powered lawnmower steady vibrating hum Can even hear it from a distance When not broken up by Wind tree rustle and bird songs Reminding me of Snail Shell Harbor camp sites And then the Sunday morning mowing resumes Fleeting reverie is broken My walk continues

I had written what I thought was a fun follow-up to my Pepper post, but somehow I managed to delete the entire fucking thing. At least three hours of writing completely wasted. If at some point in the future I feel like attempting to replicate it, I will. Right now, however, I am so livid I can barely see straight. It's a goddamned miracle I didn't pitch my laptop through a window.

We drove to Grand Rapids yesterday to see Ray Wylie Hubbard perform at the Tip-Top Deluxe Bar and Grill. I am only aware of Ray Wylie Hubbard (hereafter referred to as merely "RWH") through my old college roommate Paul, who is essentially a scholar of Texas music. (He may not like me calling him a scholar, but he is). Paul gave me RWH's memoir A Life...Well, Lived when we had our NADS Shaw Hall dorm room floor reunion back in January 2016. After the book sat in my "to be read" pile for a few months, I finally got through it last summer and enjoyed RWH's colorful tales of his rocky, wild, never dull life. I know more about RWH's life story than I knew about his music until fairly recently. I got around to listening to some of his albums that are available on Amazon Prime streaming. When the announcement came that RWH would be performing in Grand Rapids, I knew I had to go. By all accounts, he was/is a great live performer, with a funny, engaging, self...

Today is the fiftieth anniversary of the American release of the Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. This significant anniversary got me to thinking about my own relationship with this album. Pepper is an album I don't listen to that much anymore, and when I recently wrote a list of my favorite Beatles albums*--a challenge issued by Bill and Brian of  The Great Albums podcast (check it out if you've never heard it, it's a good podcast), I had Pepper at number seven of the 13 Beatles studio albums. This isn't to say that Pepper is a bad album--not at all. (I mean, come on, it's the Beatles for chrissakes!) It's just far from my favorite album by the Fab Four. However, there is a time when it was about the only Beatles album I knew. If you want to put a fine point on it, and if anyone out there really cares, Rubber Soul was the first Beatles album I remember listening to straight through. That's because my older cousin Suzy went thr...

I've not written about politics in here recently, mainly because something either terrible or crazy happens seemingly every day and it's impossible to keep up. That's life in Trump's America, where every day there is either a) a new wrinkle to Russia's (possible/probable) interference in the election, b) a bizarre tweet from the Donald, c) a new bit of draconian policy that Trump wants to push through, d) a hate crime somewhere in the US, or e) other miscellaneous crazy shit. Today we learn that Trump will be withdrawing the US from the Paris Climate Accords. Suddenly, a guy who has no problem flying to his Florida resort every weekend on the American peoples' dime declares that he is withdrawing because he cares about the American taxpayer. Yep, it's just too darned expensive ensuring we have a livable planet. I don't know if I find it more sad or amusing that in his announcement today, Trump acted like he cares about anyone besides himself and his c...

If anyone gives the 1980s band Guadalcanal Diary any consideration anymore, it's as the Athens-based band that wasn't R.E.M. (Even though Guadalcanal Diary were more accurately from suburban Atlanta).  Or as that other Georgia band that "kind of sounded like R.E.M." This is unfortunate, because Guadalcanal Diary was an outstanding band in their own right. And though they shared the same jangly guitar sound as R.E.M., it's far too reductive and unfair to brand GD as mere R.E.M. copycats. (Can we agree that saying that any music "sounds like R.E.M." is like describing a food as "tasting like chicken"). Guadalcanal Diary mastered a fairly wide variety of styles, from the aforementioned jangly pop, to 1950s Buddy Holly-esque love songs, to hard rock, to folk rock, and punky rave-ups. Songwriter and singer Murray Attaway tackled a variety of subjects in his lyrics, with a healthy combination of wisdom and humor: religious fervor and doubt (...

George Harrison's inspiration for a certain Beatles song. If you're a fan of the Fabs, you will know this one right away.

I was watching television last night and a commercial came on that featured the song “America” by Simon & Garfunkel. The commercial itself I can barely recall, I don’t even remember the product, but hearing that song made me emotional. It’s a song that I’ve liked since I was a kid, but a song that has taken on deeper meaning as I’ve gotten older. In just a few short verses, Paul Simon creates a cinematic story of two young lovers heading off on a bus trip to “look for America.” Simon perfectly evokes the feelings we all have on any trip: the initial excitement (“Laughing on the bus, playing games with the faces”)--which eventually leads to boredom (“Toss me a cigarette…”)-- reflection on the beauty of the countryside (“The moon rose over an open field”)--and finally to a bit of ennui (“’Kathy, I’m lost’ I said”)—. And then the song concludes with the narrator seeing the endless lines of anonymous cars on the turnpike, like Kathy and the narrator, “looking for America.” But the s...

Hey folks, just a not to let you know that I'm still alive--just in case you were worrying. I have a few ideas I'm working on for this blog, both (probably unsurprisingly) involving music. I've been veeerrrryyy slllooowwwlllyyy working on a piece about how music is getting me through the first few months of President Dipshit's reign of error, and another piece about the 30th anniversary of U2's The Joshua Tree . And somewhere along the line, I need to get to the Tragically Hip's Fully Completely. Maybe sometime before the year 2050, if I live that long and the world hasn't been either blown up or submerged under water due to global warming, I'll complete my Tragically Hip overview. Of course, by 2050 nobody will give a shit about the Tragically Hip anymore (not that they really do now). Anyway, I have no timetable for publishing these posts, but I sure as hell would like to do it before the end of April. Please bear with me, loyal readers.

This is a "staff recommendation" I wrote for the Capital Area District Library web site. I thought I may as well share it here. Since there was a lot of cutting and pasting going on, the font and font size may be messed up compared to the rest of the blog. Drive-By Truckers—American Band A perfect soundtrack for our troubled times For over twenty years, the Athens GA based Drive-By Truckers have ambivalently assumed the mantle for Southern Rock. (I say “ambivalently” because they don’t like to be lumped into any category). Their songs have touched on Southern identity, society, and mythology, with their progressive-leaning politics always floating just under the surface. On their 2016 album, American Band, politics take center stage unlike any of their previous records. Angered and frustrated by such issues as the Charleston (S.C.) church shooting, Confederate flag controversy, and various incidents of violence throughout the nation, songwriters Patt...

We are almost to the end of February, and we're not yet at war, so I suppose that's good. Hey, I'm trying to find a silver lining somewhere. The bad news is that Trump is still president. I've been (somewhat jokingly) hoping he'd find an excuse to resign, but that hasn't happened. Oh well, since Steve Bannon is doing all the heavy lifting, there is no need for Trump to resign. He probably has plenty of time to play golf at Mar-A-Lago and angrily tweet at all hours of the day, while maintaining the illusion of being president. What more could he ask for? Music is about the only thing getting me through this political nightmare. Number one on my playlist has been the album American Band by Drive-By Truckers. I mentioned this record in my "favorites of 2016" post, but since the election American Band has taken on even more importance. The two songwriters and vocalists Mike Cooley and Patterson Hood practically play tag team, with songs that look a...

Why does Donald Trump even want to be president? He is the oldest person ever inaugurated, at 70 years of age. He is about one year older than Ronald Reagan, who was 69 when he was sworn in. (I haven't bothered to do the math). Trump has a 10-year-old son. Any ordinary, normal man of his age--with the apparent financial freedom--would downscale on the work hours and dote on the child. But Trump is not an ordinary 70-year-old man. In all of his tweets, his interviews, his performance in debates, Trump has continually demonstrated emotional immaturity and an unhinged vindictiveness. Donald Trump wanted to become president not because he cares about the American people, but to get even with his enemies. And his enemies are numerous: CNN, The New York Times, Meryl Streep, the "liberals" in Hollywood, the entire Democratic Party, some of the Republican Party, and pretty much anyone who is not white and male. In one week, he has shown himself to be nothing more t...

We're one week into the Trump presidency and already we're seeing what life under a fascist kleptocracy looks like...and it ain't pretty. The unhinged executive orders have come with such an intense flurry that it's hard to keep up with them. It's also hard not to become overcome with a profound sense of despair. I knew life under President Trump would probably be horrible, but it it's even worse than I imagined. The country has become one dominated by fear and hate. We have a president who has no respect for the office, nor any respect for the citizens of the United States. I get the sense that the only reason he wanted to become president was to settle scores and get even with enemies. I have done what I can to fight back in my own small way. The entire family attended the Women's March in Lansing last Saturday. It was inspiring and heartening to be a part of 9000 like-minded people descending on the state capitol. The march made me think that perhap...

It's finally almost here, the day I have been dreading since November 8: the day Trump takes office as president. I still can barely write that sentence without getting dry heaves. The impending clusterfuck is already in the making, as we see a parade of lying, sanctimonious hucksters (cough, Betsy DeVos, cough) questioned by the Senate for cabinet positions they don't deserve and aren't qualified for. So I feel sad that a good-hearted, intelligent, and competent man like Obama is leaving office and head of the sanctimonious hucksters, Donald Trump, is taking over. It's like we're trading in a Rolls-Royce for a rusty Yugo. I don't plan on watching any of the inauguration tomorrow. I'd rather watch anything else than that orange-faced thug take an oath he doesn't believe to claim an office he doesn't deserve.