Author’s Disclaimer: I am not a musicologist. I am not an audiophile. I don’t write musical reviews, either as a hobby or professionally. I don’t even know what the great singer/songwriter Leonard Cohen meant when he wrote “the 4th, the 5th, the minor fall & the major lift” in that song “Hallelujah” except I think it has something to do with music and it sounds really beautiful when Jeff Buckley sings it. I just love music. (Except for jazz. Sorry, jazz.) So, allow me to be clear: the views that are about to be expressed are my own and are based soley upon a lifetime of listening to music in cars, in bars, thru headphones, in bed, or at concerts, nothing more. They are not based upon the remotest hint of a working knowledge of song structure or musical skill or, (what’s the word?), CHORD PROGRESSION, as I possess none of that. I don’t even subscribe to Pitchfork magazine, although I totally should. If it feels like I’m about to lecture you about music, just relax. I’m not. And, since I’m blissfully ignorant about this subject, everything I am about to say could be totally wrong. Feel free to let me know if you think I am. There IS a comment section somewhere around here. Or, you know. You could just write your own essay about the subject instead of being a dick to me about my views. I’m just saying. Oh. And, yes, I think I DO have to mention Rosanne Cash in every goddamn blogpost I write, thank you very much. I am seriously considering changing the title to “What Would Rosanne Cash Think?” It’s rumored that if I mention her in a hundred posts in a row, I get a pony.
On Tuesday, August 2nd, 2011, I drove two hours to Asheville, North Carolina (“Where Lattes Meet To Hike the Appalachian Trail”), to listen to Ms. Rosanne Cash speak about her memoir “Composed,” which had just been released in paperback the week before. (As of this posting, it was #17 in the Biographies/Musicians category on Amazon “We have a Category for That” dot com. Which 16 people in the music world could possibly be more interesting/intriguing than Rosanne Cash?, I wonder softly to myself. Well, apparently, six of them are Keith Richards, which is completely understandable. Patti Smith, a recent Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductee, also tops the charts ahead of Ms. Cash. Well done there. But…what’s this? Ace Frehley!? ACE FUCKING FREHLEY has a book that is more popular than Rosanne Cash’s?! From KISS? The guitarist? And not the cute one with the star painted on his face, but the other one? I mean, that is just wrong on so many levels. I realize that only two people read these posts but, for the love of humanity, please, click on the above link and buy “Composed,” if for no other reason than to restore sanity to the universe by putting Ace fucking Frehley in his proper place, which is well below Ms. Cash on the Amazon sales chart. Buy six copies if you have to. Together, we can change the world. Thank you.)
(Am I done here? What was I talking about? I got so distracted by Ace fucking Frehley that I have completely lost my train of thought. Oh, right. I saw Rosanne Cash speak.)
Now, for those of you who don’t know, (I’m not going to name names but Lachey Turner just the other day was overheard saying, in this exact order, “Rosanne Cash, who is that? I have to Google this woman to see what she looks like. Oh! She’s pretty!” She particularly liked the Interiors album cover photo. I said, “Yeah, but that was the year she was getting divorced from her husband. It was a rough time. She looks depressed, dontcha think?” “No, but I like it! She looks mean!” To each their own.), Rosanne Cash, a professional artist in her own right, is the daughter of famed music legend Johnny Cash, (and if you don’t know who Johnny Cash is, you can just stop reading right now and go back to whatever it is you do in your underground lair–hunting for albino catfish, licking lichen-covered rocks for nourishment, searching for The One Ring to Rule Them All, I don’t know–I don’t have time to explain him to you. I’m surprised that you have internet access in such a remote pit of hell, though.), and she has been making some of the richest, warmest music in America for about 30 some odd years, which is an amazingly long creative streak for someone who just recently turned 36. (Did anyone else just hear that? I think that was the entirety of cyberspace swooshing the expression “KISS ASS!” down on me through the ethernet. It was very loud. Really surprised no one else heard that.) Okay, so she’s slightly more aged than 36. Whatever. My obsession, my rules.
When she’s not making music, thinking about making music, or tweeting about making music, Ms. Cash apparently hits the road to talk to the public about that book I mentioned earlier, where people proceed to ask her questions about music. Which brings me to the point of this essay.
Another swoosh: THANK JESUS! SHE GOT TO THE POINT OF HER ESSAY! Everybody–you can come back: She got to the point. She got to the point, yes, she did. Praise be to God, the Glory and the Light. Here she go. She gonna get to the point right here:
On that lovely, warm, Carolina blue day, a man and his wife drove TEN HOURS from Florida to hear Ms. Cash speak. So, say what you want about how much I adore one of the greatest singers in America, but not only am I not alone, I’m not even on the top of the charts so, you know. Bite me. And when it came time for him to ask her a question, it broke my heart. To paraphrase, he talked fondly of the music he listened to back when Rosanne was getting started in the business and wanted to know where all the good songwriters were today.
Two things that immediately struck me when he asked that question: One, Ms. Cash looked exhausted. As if she felt the enormous complexity of the essence of what he was asking while simultaneously realizing that she had been travelling for several days in a row, was completely brain-dead, couldn’t even BEGIN to launch into a dissertation about today’s modern music scene and, Jesus Christ, did she really need a glass of wine like, NOW. That really did seem to flicker on her face, I swear. And, two, people are really hungry for some guidance in this vast, teeming swamp of energy and information we call Life. I am here today to try and cover that second point.
When I hear people say “They don’t make music like they used to” or “The era of the great songwriter is past” or, even more directly, “Kids today don’t know what good music is,” what I hear is “My best music memories are tied to when I was a teenager necking with Mandy Leitner in the backseat of my daddy’s car and I don’t know how to make new ones.”
If you’re like me, then you suspect that humans learned to communicate via music before they learned how to speak. This, I believe, is what makes the otherwise tedious Close Encounters of the Third Kind resonate with so many of us. It is communication at a primal level. And it is something that we can universally appreciate even if we do not understand the language in which the lyrics are written. Human beings will continue to make music long past the point where we can write language longhand and long after you and I are gone. Since there are approximately 13,000,000 bands on MySpace, though, perhaps the problem older people have today is finding it.
Well, for starters, try not to freak out about the fact that musical styles change. It’s not like the kids today started that trend. I mean, when you think about it, according to Fred Phelps, America started feeling the wrath of God as soon as Elvis Presley took the stage. But, when you go back even further, Beethoven caused a stir by being different than Mozart, who was really nothing more than the Elvis of his day. (Maybe he was more the John Lennon of his day. But you take my point.) So, this variance in musical styles goes back millenia. It is not something that portends the collapse of music as we know it. If anything, it speaks to the brilliance of the art form. The notes on the page haven’t changed since Mozart started jotting them down, and yet we keep finding a squillion different ways to use them. That should make the average listener of music feel excited about what is coming, not depressed about what has passed.
Once you accept that change is not something to fear, oh, the world of possibilities that become available to your ears. (Except for jazz. Sorry, jazz. Although I did recently listen to Miles Davis’ “Kind of Blue” album TWICE and it didn’t suck. So, there. That’s me being gracious about jazz.)
Now. I’m not gonna lie to you. (Except about Rosanne Cash’s age.) There is some music out there today that is just horrible. There are some songs out there so horrible that they make me want to study quantum physics so that I can invent a time machine so that I can go back in time to the moment that Justin Bieber’s parents meet so that I can destroy their budding romance so that I can prevent him from ever being born. But for every “Baby, Baby” that is being released today, at least we can all count ourselves lucky that we don’t hear Bobby Goldsboro’s “Honey” every time we turn on the radio. (Please note that “Honey” was once a number one song in America. Back in the 1960s. Back when music was supposed to be so awesome. Back when they had THE BEATLES. So, you know, cut the kids today some slack. Because nothing, not even Rebecca Black, makes me want to shoot myself in the face like “Honey.” Not even “Seasons in the Sun.” Editor’s Note: Okay. “Seasons in the Sun” is actually my favorite song of all time. I’ve only recently learned that it makes other people want to shoot themselves in the face. I refer to those people as “idiots.” But, I wanted to include it here in the Batch of Horribles so that you can see that I understand the world does not revolve around my musical tastes. Although, obviously, it probably should.) And I don’t care how much you try to convince me that Eric Clapton is God, “Sunshine of Your Love” is a horrible fucking song, and if you weren’t so busy eating mushrooms and trying to get laid the summer it came out, you might be able to realize that, too.
So, really, old timer, once you accept that the world of music today is just as vibrant and as rich as back when Neil Diamond was topping the charts, an entire universe of music opens up to you. It simply becomes a matter of discovering what you like.
Were you a fan of Neil Diamond? Well, are you familiar with the musical stylings of Death Cab For Cutie? They’ll make your toe tap. Were you a fan of Gladys Knight & The Pips? Have you heard of Sharon King & The Dap Kings? Oh my geez. She’ll make you slap your mama. Country music more to your liking? Well, the Zac Brown Band is making some great music. You should check it out. Or, if you are a Merle Haggard afficianado, this new fellow named Jeff Bridges just came out with a new album that might be just what you’re looking for.
Foreign music is so much more exciting today. It’s beyond just the British Invasion. Jens Lekman is incredible. Personally, I love Robyn, too, because I’m wild and crazy like that. Oh, and I cannot let another minute go by without mentioning one of the truly most exciting pop groups to emerge from England in quite some time, Florence & The Machine.
For pure rock & roll, I have been in love with Kings of Leon since the early aughts. It’s never too late to learn about them, but I would start as soon as possible, as the band is starting to fracture. Who knows if they’ll ever make another album? Family bands and mega-rock stardom will do that to you. But, every single album that they’ve made is amazing.
For perfect pop stylings, I don’t know how anyone could find fault with Mates of State. Their Rearrange Us album is one of my frequent go-to’s when I need a little pep on my commute home.
Since I don’t write about music for a living, I don’t even know how to describe My Morning Jacket’s music. But, if you want to listen to a band that tries to capture soaring symphonic melodies through their electric guitars, you might want to check them out. They definitely know the roots of American rock and roll. And, then, of course, you can’t mention roots of American rock and roll without bowing with ultra respect to one Mr. Jack White.
The beauty of talking about how much exciting music is being created is that I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface here. There is almost too much great music out there nowadays to keep track of. But, if you’re looking to get started, go to that metracritic.com website I mentioned earlier. Or, you can just follow Rosanne Cash on Twitter and pay attention to whomever she is listening to. You can’t really go wrong there. Just don’t ask her to mention everyone she loves after she’s had a hard week of work. She’s liable to just stare at you blankly while reaching for a bottle of chardonnay.
Please. Hold Your Applause 'Til The End. 
I liked except for all the cheese about Roseanne Cash. And by the way, jazz kicks contry’s ass! There are also severaal other types of music not related to red necks or “the gloriuos south”
Yes, there is sooooo much music out there, Jeff! If I were a Ken Tucker or a (insert name of another rock critic here) I would have totally been able to refer to it in this essay. But I’m spitballin’, baby! I don’t have time to do research! I’m like a jazz musician that way!
And I hope you see how graciously I am ignoring your little comment about Rosanne Cash.
But please don’t think that I will ever forget you said it. If I ever make my way up to Albany, I am going to kick you in the nuts for it. 🙂
And now Jeff, you have two, I said TWO, sets of boots kicking you in the nuts. 🙂
Sunshine of Your Love? Ok, the lyrics and his singing….but the guitar… It’s like anything by Bob Dylan. Pretty much anything by Bob Dylan sucks, except when someone else does it (see Hendrix “All Along the Watchtower” or Indigo Girls “Tangled Up In Blue”). Sometimes the genius in the song isn’t in the performance.
Oh, have you ever heard Sophie B. Hawkins’ version of “I Want You,” another Bob Dylan song? It’s off her Tongues & Tails album. I love it. And “Mississippi” by Sheryl Crow–I loved that song so much that I was very surprised to discover that it was a Bob Dylan tune. Because, yeah. I am conflicted about him. But, mainly, I’m conflicted because of Rolling Stone magazine. If Rolling Stone hadn’t insisted every other week that Bob Dylan was the best thing to happen to rock & roll, I might have been more appreciative of his gifts. But, as it was, as a teenager I was all, like, “Don’t tell me who to appreciate!” and so I loathed him. Partially because of that and partially because he really couldn’t sing.
Rant. Ending. Bleep. Boop.
Unfortunately for you Laurie, any adolescent male who has bothered to pick up an axe anywhere in the last 30 years has probably tried an Ace Frehley riff. Considered by many to be a 6 string legend and deity, (rightly or wrongly) his notoriety has far surpassed anything he did with Kiss, or Frehley’s Comet. Personally, I consider any KISS song a waste of precious minutes better spent trimming my toenails, or some other menial task I hate.
Leonard Cohen is of course an excellent songwriter. (My wife prefers the Rufus Wainright version of “Hallelujah” btw) Prince is also, believe it or not, an excellent and prolific songwriter as well. The connection between those two is usually their songs are better performed by someone else. =P
My wife and I still listen to modern songs…and are making more memories to them! The Airborne Toxic Event is one of our newest favorites…but for every Airborne, there’s a Paramore or Nickelback, which makes going all Van Gogh on yourself seem like a viable option…so I totally dig your stagnation statment…
Sadly, as soon as the words ‘Roseanne Cash” are mentioned, my brain goes offline with images of her lumped in with Mel Tillis, Jerry Reed, and Roy Clark. (granted, I get the added footnote that says “Johnny’s girl” on the way out, but that’s it)
Other than Hank Williams Jr., I can’t think of any offspring that has done better than their famous parent in the same performance genre.
Great blog this week otherwise, love the Deathcab reference. We loved Jack White until the White Stripes cancelled their Anchorage dates and declined to reschedule. He’s dead to us now. =P
Dead to you now! Too funny! He’s gotta be one of the hardest working men in show business, though. Maybe he’ll win you back. (And maybe the cancellation was Meg’s fault. You don’t know. Ha!)
And far be it for me to tell you how your mind should work, but I would suggest you rethink that Rosanne association one more time. If you can, just try and catch the opening refrain of “Black Cadillac,” for example. I mean, Mel & Jerry have their gifts, but I don’t remember them singing remotely like her on that album. She’s much more…I would say she’s much more Sam Phillipsy/Aimee Mannsy than like the stars of Hee Haw or Smokey & The Bandit. But, maybe that’s just me.
In the spirit of being energized by new music, I am going to research this Airborne Toxic Event that you mention. I hope they sound as delightful as their name suggests! Thank you for it.
(And I’m sure that Mr. Frehley is one of America’s finest guitarists. His story still can’t be nearly as engrossing as Ms. Cash’s. Ha!)
Just bought two Airborne Toxic Event albums. This is either the beauty or the curse of iTunes. All I want to know is where have they been my entire life? Thank you very much for bringing them to me, sir!
Oh, I’m sure Ace’s story is glam rock cliche to the max, that doesn’t detract from middle age men buying his book in airports though.
And yes actually, it WAS MEG who blew the Alaskan dates due to that tired old laryngitis excuse or something…(I believe that was the beginning of the end for The White Stripes as a group)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5CGdsyS7jMw for Airborne’s single take, accoustic, pre-release videos from their last album. Good Stuff.
And I’m sure Miss Cash is much more than that era, but that’s the era I heard her name mentioned in, growing up. The Smokey bunch and the Hee Haw gang. =P
Laurie I really enjoyed reading your blog, I have been introduced to you by your brother Greg, who had mentioned your comment about Jeff Bridges and being an Applebees waitress at 40. I don’t know it Greg has read this blog, but I will mention it to him when I return to work on Tuesday as it ties up some of the comments you have made on Facebook lately. Greg and I discuss music often at work and have introduced each other to various artist such as Joe Bonamassa. I found it amusing that you mentioned Neil Diamond as Greg is somewhat a fan of his. We were discussing the Miles Davis listening the other day and both agreed that Miles might not be the best starting point to sample Jazz. Keep in mind there are many forms of the art and some are an aquired taste.
As for Mr. Clapton, after attending a recent concert in San Diego, (my second time to see him perform live) he has amazing mastery of his instrument and surrounds himself with the best musicians allowing them to shine. I guess you could call me a fan. I’m pleased to read that you are a music lover also. I also find your take on movies amusing.
Well, thank you, Dennis! I think more people need to discuss Miles Davis, Applebees and Neil Diamond on a much more frequent basis. We should friend each other on Facebook so that we can do so whenever we feel the urge.
And I want to be clear: I never wanted to suggest that Eric Clapton was not an outstanding musician. Just that “Sunshine of Your Love” makes me want to pull my vagina out. That is an enormous distinction.
I don’t know if I can agree with you about Seasons in the Sun, other than to say, that and Werewolves of London are probably the two songs that make ME want to rip my vagina out! I think I probably would not have given Rosanne’s music a thought, if it hadn’t been for you and Karla. But after Karla wanted to see her at the ACL Fest the first year we moved to Austin, I was blown away. She is a singer/songwriter in her own right and no one that has actually ever given her music a chance to stand on it’s own….(not that her dad wasn’t a major influence on her, as he should have been, he is amazing and everyone who knows anything about music, at all, would have to agree that Mr. L is a god)…..then it isn’t possible for anyone to say she isn’t incredible! I know, I was one of those people. “She is country and I am not going to listen to it!” She isn’t, she is alittle of everything and better than most at doing anything worth doing.
One time in Germany, I say Country Joe and the Fish cataloged in the country music section. I laughed about it, but I guess if you had never heard their music and just went by their name….then yeah, it made sense, I guess.
So goes Rosanne….if you just went by her family name, then you would just assume you knew her music, but as they say “never assume……” because in her case, you would be wrong. She so much more than I “assumed” and I used to think I had a pretty open mind about music. I even have some jazz albums, which I still like same doses of, but Roseanne is right up there with Shawn, Patty and Kim Richey to me….so thanks to you and Karla…I’m not assuming anymore. Great blog! What’s on for next Sunday? How else can you fit Rosanne in there?
Well. I could write something called the “Vagina-less Monologues” and spend a day talking about music that I absolutely hate? But, honestly, I don’t think I want to devote an entire day thinking about Cat Stevens, Ms. Moonshadow.
How much mileage do you think I could get about complaining about my friends who keep referring to her as “Roseanne” as if she is a stand-up comedienne who has her own tv show? Don’t get me wrong, I love me some Ms. Barr, and Laurie Metcalf was a fantastic presence on my television screen lo those many years, but I was actually there the night she sang the national anthem at Jack Murphy Stadiium in San Diego and I don’t think I care for Roseanne’s musical gifts. ROSANNE Cash, however, is just a delightful singer. Is that who you meant? I COULD probably write about that, but I think it would be an extremely short entry. Bitching about people who can’t spell her name would more appropriately be a tweet rather than an actual essay, although I would be curious to wonder if Moammar Quaddafi feels the same aggravation? Of course, Nene, I am totally just busting your balls a little about the misspelling, because you, at least, got it right three out of the four times you referred to her, so I can tell you’re trying. (I am also picturing you, at this moment, squinting intently at the computer screen, a half-smoked Misty in your hand, and I can literally hear you start laughing once you figure out what I am actually saying with this rambling, disjointed paragraph. “Is she bitching at me because I typed ‘Roseanne’ once? Really? Oh. My. GOD!” I can totally hear you saying that, in my head. So, maybe my next post should be an essay on the conversations I have with my friends in my head at 5:20am.)
I honestly cannot understand why people are repelled by “Seasons in the Sun” or, for that matter, “You Light Up My Life.” Of course, for me, Seasons in the Sun has been there ever since I learned what a record was. It was on a K-Tel record. My brothers had several, so I’m sure I listened to plenty growing up, but that one was my favorite. It had scratches on it, (naturally), and I can still hear the pops and clicks that used to be a part of that version when I was a five year-old. I used to listen to that song over and over and over, although I never knew the last verse of the song, as the scratches were so horrible it just jumped right over it to the end of the record. Of course, well into my 30s, perhaps because of the poor sound quality, or perhaps because “firmly understanding lyrics” has never been what I would call a “vital” or “critical” part of the music listening experience for me, I would have, at karaoke, stood up and, instead of singing “Goodbye papa, please pray for me. I was the black sheep of the family,” I would have belted out “Goodbye papa, please pray for me, I was so black she bought the family.” It’s possible that the reason I was so drawn to the song because I thought, at age five, it was a social commentary on the differences between rich and poor, white and black. Or, more simply, I could simply be the stupidest fucking person on the planet and it has never made any sense how someone who listens to as much music as I do can barely understand what is being sung half the time.
Yep, I do wonder why you busted my balls for ONE spelling it wrong one time, but then I am in love with RC, but her music…..and I am not a perfectionist….just a simple woman, with a simple in mission in mind.
I just like busting your balls.
Well. Where to start. I feel like I need to start with righteous indignation about hating on soulja boy or the biebs, but I see that none of your other readers even mentioned that! Which leads me to believe, that once again, I am the youngest person you know. But, that’s okay, because you really do have fantastic taste in MOST music. So, all I’m going to say is that I can’t think of Kings of Leon and you without picturing some man’s nipple and a tattoo of my name. Also – do you even know what “Superman that ho!” means? Look that shit up on urban dictionary, my friend. And then look up “lion king that ho” and “Tony Danza that ho”.
You’re welcome.
Baby, baby, baby, OH!!
Okay. First of all, since you have been “Kind and Generous” (a Natalie Merchant song) to attend BOTH a N. Merchant AND an Emmylou Harris concert with me, I will accept the fact that, as a child of the aughts, you are totally swimming in shark-infested waters, having to discover high quality music WHILE avoiding getting Soulja Boy on your shoes. So, I will not argue your point except to say that you made it. I can only hope that, one day, you will grow out of this phase and look back and laugh. I had to deal with a Color Me BADD song existing in my head for a year or two when I was your age, so I know how these things can happen.
Secondly, I DID, at 5:37am, just “urban dictionary” Superman, Tony Danza, and the Lion King. And now I want to punch YOU in the face. I was GOING to say that I wanted to “donkey punch you in the face,” but since I “urban dictionaried” THAT, too, I can see that is a completely inappropriate use of the term. But I do want to punch you in the face.
You daughters of pastors are the worst at corrupting my naïve and innocent mind, you know that? Or do I mean “best”?
Compared to The Hanson Brothers, Biebs is a lightweight, so not worth mentioning at all imo…
There’s still plenty of great new music being made today…but the sheer amount of time it takes to sift through all the auto-tune trash is just tremendous…
Yeah, I’ll say it, I’m super biased against anything that currently matriculates out of the Disney/Nick Wet Dream Tween Machine. These ‘acts’ are slickly pre-packaged for steady backpack sales and tons of other useless crap with their faces on it…
My wife and I have been trying to put our fingers on when this whole ‘Tween’ genre of media reared it’s ugly head…when Laurie and I were growing up…I don’t think there was an actual ‘niche’ for these shows…One day you were watching cartoons…or ‘Silver Spoons’ and ‘The Facts of Life’ the next…were these ‘tween precursors? Perhaps. Anyhoo, my hatred for tween shows is probably better left to another thread…