MOG - erictheler's Posts

Turn on some Marvin Gaye

erictheler — Tue, 08 Jan 2008 02:46:38 GMT

It's been a long, stressful, infuriating day but the boys are now in bed and the evening is now mine and my wife's. So we break open the pint bottle I've been saving of my favorite beer ever--Tripel Karmeliet--and play side two of Marvin Gaye's Midnight Love.

"Turn on Some Music" has always been one of my favorite non-hit soul songs (along with Parliament's "Getten' to Know You", Sly Stone's "Just Like a Baby", and Curtis Mayfield's "Right on for the Darkness").

I think Mavin Gaye's music, as much as any music I've heard (even Bach, Duke Ellington, and the Beatles) has this ability to heal the wounded spirit.

My friend Valentine told me a story about how a large fight that broke out in the halls of his high school was suddenly calmed by someone playing "Let's Get it On" loudly on a shoulder-supported boom box (I always pictured this mythical high school student as the Radio Raheem of peace, love and understanding).

And about ten years ago everything that could go wrong did one day while trying to move to a new apartment in Chicago. While riding in a taxi to O'Hare Airport in a desperate attempt to locate a moving van (after several previous failed attempts) the taxi radio played "You're All I Need to Get By". And I just sat in the back of that greasy-windowed, pine-fresh cab and smiled. No other form of art can comfort me so quickly and deeply.

So, it's strange that channeling Marvin for his 2000 hit "Music" couldn't protect Erick Sermon from harm. But, I prefer to believe The Green-Eyed Bandit's mysterious injury in 2001 was a result of a car accident and not a suicide attempt. But if it was a suicide attempt, then I hope Erick Sermon has found some peace...with the help of friends, family, music, and most certainly Marvin Gaye.

Born Under Punches

erictheler — Sat, 05 Jan 2008 04:30:05 GMT

For some reason every copy of Remain in Light I've ever owned has died or disappeared. I overplayed my first LP copy back in high school (when I was impossibly cool...ahem). And it became unlistenable from all the pops, ticks, and scratches (though, you know, at first the occasional pop and tick kind of blended in with all those polyrhythms). My second LP copy was borrowed by a college roommate and never returned, (along with my autographed Squirrel Bait Kid Dynamite 45, which I miss even more). And just yesterday I discovered that my CD copy won't play. And I don't know why. It looks like it's in fine conditional. But no CD player I own will play it all of a sudden. Oh sure, it'll play that damn Sting CD a friend brought over for New Year's....

Anyway, really wanting to hear Born Under Punches, I discovered this video of a live performance during a 1980 tour. My god it's good. I wouldn't have guessed that a song like that could be performed live so brilliantly. I guess it doesn't hurt when you're in your prime and you hire great musicians like Bernie Worrell, Adrian Belew, and Nona Hendryx to help you out. The number of musicians, their intensity, the complexity of music, and the fact that it all works so perfectly is dizzying.

So, I'll just listen to this until I purchase my next doomed copy of Remain in Light....

A long way from home

erictheler — Wed, 28 Nov 2007 02:17:26 GMT

Fourteen years ago I was living in Minneapolis. Driving home, listening to the radio, I heard such a stunning female jazz vocalist rendition of "Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child" that I pulled over to listen closely to the song. After it ended the DJ said "I still can't believe that's Little Jimmy Scott. That's Little Jimmy Scott!" I couldn't believe it either. About a week before this my dad had read a story about Scott's sudden rediscovery and revival, found it fascinating and told me all about it. Now, here Scott was on the radio--that soaring, heartbroken, androgynous voice. As brilliant as advertised.

The following day I bought every Scott CD I could find--Lost and Found just came out and they had reissued several others. Then, a couple months later, in the dead of a typically brutal Minneapolis winter, I found out that Scott was playing at a club in St. Paul. Even though my old car had long since died, I rode my bike an hour across the twin cities to the club and sat at a small table in a smoky club in my snow-splattered clothes. That evening is now a blur, but I remember the pianist saying, after Scott sang Motherless Child, "You know, it's hard to read music with tears in your eyes."

Last fall, I got a rare night off to go hear Scott perform at a local college. He's very frail now and frequently leaves the stage between songs. However, on that night he once again summoned the jazz gods on his performance of Motherless Child and left us all with tears in our eyes.

My son's not alone

erictheler — Tue, 27 Nov 2007 23:38:59 GMT

About 2 years ago my 4 year old son Freddy pulled my vinyl copy of Swordfishtrombones off the shelf and handed it to me. He and I had been exploring some of my music together - kid-friendly stuff like the Everly Brothers, Doc Watson, and early Beatles - and enjoying every rockin' minute of it. When he handed me the Tom Waits I was hesitant, but, you know, what harm could it cause? He might hate it and that'd be that.

Of course, he loved it. For months we could not get past the first song--"Underground". He was obsessed with it. Eventually, songs like "16 Shells from a Thirty Ought Six", "In the Neighborhood", the title track and, then, much of Rain Dogs and later albums became everyday requests. Once, with guilty pride, I observed him marching on a playground and singing "Misery's the river of the world/everybody row!". That's my boy!

So, this morning, Freddy, my two year old (Andy), and I were searching for Tom Waits videos and concert footage when we discovered this video of a NYC 5th grade chorus performing "Time". It's so soulful, unaffected, and beautiful. And even though Freddy was unimpressed and wanted to find film of Tom Waits howling into a bullhorn, I played it again and hugged my boys.