Wednesday, March 31, 2021

48. Moving Pictures by Rush

 48. Moving Pictures by Rush

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=auLBLk4ibAk&list=OLAK5uy_mqiUUrmZRm1dwrX78OHxpnLU3bnDaRhSQ

Side 1 of Moving Pictures is about as awesome as one side of a rock album can be. Side 2, not so much. But then, how could anyone follow "Tom Sawyer" followed by "Red Barchetta" followed by "YYZ" followed by "Limelight?" I know all the lyrics to all four of these songs, except for "YYZ," because it has no lyrics, and thus was qualified to be nominated for a Grammy for best rock instrumental performance. In fact, the group was nominated in this category 7 times! But it only won that award a mere 0 times. That's right--0 times! "YYZ" was Rush's first Grammy nomination, and it lost to "Behind My Camel" by The Police. Now, I like The Police and I like "Behind My Camel." But there is simply NO WAY it is a better rock instrumental song than "YYZ." If you listen to both of the songs at the same time, you'll see what I'm talking about. "Behind My Camel" just fades into the background. 

YYZ

Behind My Camel

During my junior year of high school, Randy and I used to listen to this album while laying in our beds. We mostly listened to Side 1 and skipped Side 2. But every now and then, Randy would flip it over, and we'd listen to "The Camera Eye," "Witch Hunt," and "Vital Signs." I also remember looking at the album cover. The front features a group of movers in red onesies carrying art up the steps of a stone-faced building (perhaps a museum?) while a group of onlookers look on and weep at their beauty, eh?!

The back cover features a film crew filming the folks on the front cover. 

This makes Moving Pictures one of the rare rock albums to ever pull off a triple entendre for the album title. Also, because of YYZ, it's one of the few rock albums to ever feature a Grammy nominated instrumental song with a rhythm based on any combination of Morse Code letters. ABBA did manage to get a hit with the song "S.O.S." but the rhythm of the actual Morse Code letters was not included in the song. 

As documented in my entry for number 89 of my Top 200 songs, "Red Barchetta" is my favorite song on this album because...no wait...I changed my mind. It's because the title of the song it reminds me of cheese. I changed my mind because my wife says I eat too much cheese, so I guess I must like it. So at either a subconscious or conscious level (or both), I can't help but want the cheese-related song to be my favorite. 

And now I'm thinking that the reason I like the Billy Joel song "Captain Jack" is because it might remind me of "Pepper Jack." Normally, I'm more of a Cheddar or Provalone or Jarlsberg or Muenster or Gouda or Havarti guy. Ah, but Pepper Jack will get me by tonight. Just a little slice, and I'll be smiling.

So, yeah. Cheese is good. But so is this album. And to be fair, the second side of the album has a good representation of their whole progressive rock thing with the nearly 11-minute long song "The Camera Eye." It would be the last time they featured a long song like this on their albums.

In my graduate school years, Julie purchased Vapor Trail when she went to a Rush concert with her brother. And I thought that album was good. But it just didn't have the emotional connection that this album has because I associate it with happy memories of hanging out with Randy in the basement. 

And cheese. 

Tuesday, March 23, 2021

49. Wild Planet by The B-52s

 49. Wild Planet by The B-52s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcXMq_DvP6M&list=OLAK5uy_kR1JLYLeMeGaAw7UGi169_0Ml8ZPUa9ZI

Because Cuts Like a Knife and Bat Out of Hell are two albums that bring up such fond memories of my friendship with Scapell, I hesitate to say too much about the albums for fear that any new information I dredge up might taint those memories. 

Actually, that's not completely true. I can share that Bryan Adams was the first famous live musician/band I saw in concert. He opened for Journey during the concert at the Mini-Dome during my junior year of high school. Besides playing all of his hits from Cuts Like a Knife, I remember that Bryan made a big deal of getting the crowd to yell "F--- You!" as loud as possible. And for some reason, that doesn't seem like that particular instance of mass public cursing would taint my memories of cruising the streets of Arimo with Scapell in Old Blue.

But it would be EXTREMELY easy to take the fond memories of hearing Bat Out of Hell in Scapell's basement and taint them with disturbing images and stupid stories of Meat Loaf's ridiculous behavior both behind and in front of the camera. So in my effort to maintain at least a few pure memories of time spent in Scapell's basement,  I try to ignore Meat Loaf as much as possible. 

However, there is one album that reminds me of Scapell that I can comment on in detail because my memory is of him not particularly liking the album. This memory is from when I played Wild Planet on the tape recorder while we all painted the Fink's house yellow for a scout service project, which was a big deal because up until that day, I believe the Fink house had always been pink. Why anyone would want to paint their house a color that rhymes with their last name is beyond me. But then again, there isn't a color that rhymes with "Olson," so I may just not understand how strong of a temptation that might be.

What I remember of that service project is that since we knew it would be boring to paint a house for two hours straight, I'd brought a pile of tapes that I'd recently received after joining the Columbia Records and Tape Club. We listened to some of them, and Sheldon liked a few. But when I pressed play on Wild Planet, he expressed what I can only characterize "instant revulsion." I think I managed to get "Private Idaho" and "Quiche Lorainne" played before Scapell carried out a full-on rebellion against my DJ-ing of the paintfest. And so the Eject button got pressed on Wild Planet before he ever got to hear "Party Out of Bounds," "Dirty Back Road," "Runnin' Around," and "Devil In My Car"--four songs that by their titles would seem to qualify as Scapell-approved music.

The reason I ordered Wild Planet as part of that initial penny's worth of music from CR&TC was that one day while I was hanging out with Chris at the Watkin's house, Barry happened to mention that he liked the song "Quiche Lorraine." I think that was in part because both the Nielsen and the Watkins families had miniature poodles for indoor pets, and since Quiche was a poodle about two inches tall...well, you can't get much more miniature of a poodle than that. Anyway, when I saw that Wild Planet was one the 13 tapes I could get for just one measly cent, I ordered it up. 

Of course, being an Idaho farm boy, "Private Idaho" was my favorite song from the tape, followed by "Quiche Lorraine." But the rest of the songs have a pretty steady level of quality, and I like them all equally as much. With the exception of "53 Miles West of Venus"--which is mainly an instrumental in which the girls just sing a chorus of "53 Miles West of Venus" repeatedly through the whole song--all of them have and interesting mix of guitar, drums, and synthesizer with quirky lyrics half-shouted by Fred Schneider. 

On a side note, for some reason, ever since hearing Wild Planet, I've thought that it would be fun to hear Fred sing a collection of Primary songs--especially "Give Said the Little Stream." Can't you just hear him sing/shout, "Give. Said. The LIT-tle STREAM. Give-oh-give. GIVE-oh-GIVE!"

I'm not sure why I associate his album with Scapell like I do. I suppose that maybe after being hit in the nuts so many times by balls thrown by Scapell, I might have derived some sort of twisted pleasure out of having done the equivalent of a nut-punch to Scapell's ears. All I know is that the older I get, the more precious my memories become of the time I spent in Arimo with my friends. And since Scapell's house was the site of the majority of hijinks we had together--like the Chopstick Spaghetti Dinner Date--any music that reminds me of time spent with Scapell just seems to be extra worthy of being included in my Top 60 album list.

(SNIPE WAVE!)

Monday, March 22, 2021

50. Bat Out of Hell by Meat Loaf

50. Bat Out of Hell by Meat Loaf

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x7ES7ueI7p0&list=PL248ar1sMUaBcgwctosA7BA1Yhvh99f5k

Hey, do you want to remember the glory days of playing ping-pong and hanging out in Sheldon's basement? Then all you need is one of these!

Nuff said!

51. Cuts Like a Knife by Bryan Adams

 51. Cuts Like a Knife by Bryan Adams

Hey, do you want to remember the glory days of riding around Arimo in Old Blue with Sheldon? Then all you need is one of these!

Nuff said!

Unfortunately, due to record deals and copyright laws and all that stuff, Bryan doesn't have the full playlist from Cuts Like a Knife. But he does have a mix of some music videos and live performances, and I'll piece together most of the album playlist from them below. There are a couple of songs that only have bootleg videos out there, so if the links don't work or there isn't a link, it's because they either don't exist or they got taken off by the YouTube police.

1. The Only One

2. Take Me Back

3. This Time

4. Straight from the Heart

5. Cuts Like a Knife

6. I'm Ready

7. What's It Gonna Be

8. Don't Leave Me Lonely

9. Let Him Know (It's a live performance, but it ain't Bryan Adams) 

10. The Best Was Yet to Come

Saturday, March 20, 2021

52. Poodle Hat by Weird Al Yankovic

52. Poodle Hat by Weird Al Yankovic

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YDOZjrVMAY&list=OLAK5uy_ljbAhXzssWBDwG6nZMwr5GFgDp8VE0GDQ

As a 14-year-old farm boy, many a Saturday was spent on a tractor on a Marsh Valley mountainside driving round and round a field, tilling up the soil in preparation for planting or just preventing the weeds from growing. But even though I had to spend the entire day on that tractor seat, I always was excited to do the work, because the tractor had a radio, and out in the fields up on a mountain, I could get the Salt Lake City radio station that played the Dr. Demento Show every Saturday. (My radio at home couldn't pick up the station.) And one of the reasons I loved the Dr. Demento Show was because he would play the Weird Al Yankovic's song " Yoda," and up on that mountain was the only place I could ever hear it, because it never got released on a record until 1985. But when I heard it in 1980--the year The Empire Strikes Back hit the theaters and Yoda over took Kermit as my favorite green muppet--I turned into a Weird Al Yankovic fan. Of course, for the next four years nobody else knew it in my school except for a few close friends. But then Weird Al released " Eat It" as a parody of Michael Jackson's "Beat It," and the entire world took notice. I know that the student body of Marsh Valley High School took notice because I used to play "Beat It" at the school dances, wait about five songs, and then play "Eat It." There would always be some jock that would yell out, "You played that one already!" during the opening notes. But then when the weird fart noise started up, they'd all laugh and realize that they'd been pranked. 

That song got Al the 1984 Grammy for Best Comedy Recording. But the Grammys didn't stop there. Since then, he's been nominated 16 times for various albums, songs, and music videos, with five Grammy wins, including Best Comedy Album for Mandatory Fun and, one of my Top 60 favorite albums, Poodle Hat.

Poodle Hat won a Grammy for Best Comedy Album, which I think belies the man's true musical genius. He's not just funny. He's a talented composer, musician (he ROCKS the accordion), and singer. Yes, this album does have five straight-up parodies of hit songs written by other people, but there are seven original songs that hold their own musically against the parodied songs. And that's saying something because one of those parodied songs happens to be "Piano Man" by Billy Joel! And if you're a Ben Folds fan, Ben plays piano on the song "Why Does This Always Happen to Me," which is a style parody of Ben Folds songs. Apparently, the two men are friends, and Al will sometimes play with Ben just for the hell of it.

https://youtu.be/UHIM1leIsnE

The hallmark of Weird Al songs are the clever and funny lyrics, so there are plenty of spit-take-funny lines on this album. But I think the funniest part of the entire album comes from the beginning of "Why Does This Always Happen to Me?"

I was watching my TV one night
When they broke in with a special report
About some devastating earthquake in Peru
There were thirty thousand crushed to death
Even more were buried alive
On the Richter scale it measured 8.2
And I said
"God, please answer me one question"
"Why'd they have to interrupt The Simpsons just for this?"

One of the other things I love about Al's albums is how he will always include one song which will never get air-play on the radio because it's way too long. "Genius in France" is the long song for this album. As you listen to this song, see if you can figure out the different ways that he says that he is "dumb." (I count 35, but I could be wrong.) By the way, the song was written as an homage to Frank Zappa--another musical genius--and Frank's son, Dweezil Zappa, plays guitar on it.

I bought Poodle Hat while going to graduate school at Utah State, and I listened to it repeatedly at work while doing mindless boring work involving HTML code fixes. But it also got lots of play in the pickup truck anytime the family took a trip anywhere. Julie heard it enough times that now anytime I say, "Honey, don't you realize that I'm a genius?" she will say, "Yeah, but only in France." So THAT'S how much I listened to this album--enough times that my WIFE remembers the song lyrics and uses them against me. Consequently, you may want to listen to this album out of ear shot of your wife. But make sure the kids hear it, because loving a Weird Al song is something every kid should do, even if they don't have a radio on their tractor.

Thursday, March 18, 2021

53. Synkronized by Jamiroquai

 53. Synkronized by Jamiroquai

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TounIThLmXw&list=PLnjdy1NbfUQIkADjL14lO0QUlO3eM12Z0

We want the funk! Give up the funk!

Synkronized gots all the funks--fast funk, slow funk, disco dance funk, '70s chase scene funk, psychedelic keyboard funk, brassedelic trumpet funk, bassedelic butt-rumbling deep beats funk, Godzilla funk, and...wait for it...didgeridoo funk!

The song most people associate with this album is "Canned Heat," as it was the song in the 2004 film Napoleon Dynamite that Napoleon danced to in front of the student body at Preston High School. And it's now hard to hear that song and not think of Jon Heder dancing in snow boots--kind of like how I can't listen to "Working for the Weekend" and not think of Chris Farley dancing shirtless with a bow tie and white cuffs. After the movie, some of the young kids had to go home and search the interwebs to find out what song it was that Napoleon danced to. But when I saw the film in the theater, I knew exactly what song it was from the very opening notes because I had purchased the 1999 album Synkronized during my second year of grad school at Utah State and had repeatedly listened to it on my headphones as I wrote HTML code at work.

While I can see why "Canned Heat" would be the most popular song off the album--it's got an irresistible deliciously danceable disco vibe--the album is chock-a-block full of other danceable songs. But the goofy thing about this album is that the songs you hear on it all depend on which country you bought it in. The UK version of the album included the bonus track "Deeper Underground," which was featured on the 1998 Godzilla movie. The Japanese version got a bonus track "Getinfunky," which is kind of weird, because you'd think the Japanese audience would want the bonus track from a Godzilla movie instead. And Australian's didn't get a bonus track on the album. They got a whole extra bonus disc! It had "Deeper Underground," "Getinfunky," and, my favorite of all the bonus songs, "Wolf in Sheep's Clothing." Also, there were two versions of the single for "Canned Heat," and one had "Deeper Underground," while the other had "Wolf in Sheep's Clothing,"--all of which means that these songs were written around the same time as the songs on the album, so they weren't new songs added onto an anniversary release of the original album just to boost sales. So I say if you're wondering which version to listen to so that you can say you've listened to the entire album, it's fair dinkum to consider yourself a triple-bonus funker from down under.

Saturday, March 13, 2021

54. Random Access Memories by Daft Punk

 54. Random Access Memories by Daft Punk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zKSsP2084nU&list=OLAK5uy_nZZjkBu_E4olFSb5Ey-fQ-4a0ZCqJICdQ

In case you missed it last month, Daft Punk broke up. The announcement was made, as so many are these days, via video.

https://youtu.be/DuDX6wNfjqc

While there are many great accomplishments the duo made during their 28 years together, I think their finest album was Random Access Memories, which cleaned up at the 2014 Grammy awards with Best Song, Record of the Year, and Best Pop/Duo Group Performance for "Get Lucky"--the breakout hit from the album. The album itself won for Best Engineered Album, Non-Classical, Best Dance/Electronica Album, and Album of the Year.


This album was another one that I bought before Julie and I took our anniversary trip to tour all of the lighthouses on the Pacific coastline of Oregon and northern California. I especially remember driving through the redwood forests in California while listening to Random Access Memories. So when I hear the dance tracks on this album, I don't think of disco balls and lighted dance floors. I think of 20-foot wide trees that are as tall as a football field is long. 

Random Access Memories features a lot of songs on which various other artists were featured. But the collaboration that surprised me the most was for the songs "Touch" and "Beyond," which featured lyrics written by Paul Williams. Yes. THAT Paul Williams.


Apparently, Paul had a big impact on the overall theme and sound of the entire album, so I guess it's somewhat fitting that when Daft Punk won the Grammy for Album of the Year, it was Paul who gave the acceptance speech--because Daft Punk don't talk none on the TV.  However, while I do like the lyrics on "Touch" and "Beyond," I don't think they're as good as the lyrics Paul wrote for his most famous song. No, I'm not talking about "Evergreen" which was sung by Barbara Streisand. And I'm not talking about "We've Only Just Begun" which was sung by The Carpenters. Nor am I talking about "Rainbow Connection," which was sung by Kermit the Frog. I'm talking about the lyrics to the theme song for The Love Boat! Now THAT's music that's exciting and new!

And now I suddenly find myself wondering if anyone has done a version of "The Love Boat" theme song with Jack Jones' voice on auto-tune. I'm also wondering how much better The Love Boat show would have been if Bernie Kopell and Fred Grandy had worn helmets with full face masks. But I guess only guests get to wear helmets on The Love Boat.

https://youtu.be/AB7f26dGGzI

55. St. Vincent by St. Vincent

 55. St. Vincent by St. Vincent


During my freshman year at Ricks College, there was a girl on campus with long blonde hair that was so beautiful that all of the guys in my dorm were terrified of her.  We'd could talk about her all day long, but no one had the courage to actually talk TO her. I had her in one of my English classes, so I got to see her briefly three times a week. I say "briefly" because I would only risk a glance every now and then, except when we were having a class discussion and she started to talk. If I looked at her for more than a second, then I'd be risking looking like some sort of pervert. Fortunately, whenever she spoke up in class discussions, I had the perfect excuse to let my inner pervert loos and get a wonderfully long look at her face and hair--until she stopped talking. Then I had to force myself to turn my attention back to the teacher, and while he was talking, my inner pervert was still only thinking about was that girl. I did this for 15 weeks until the last day of class, and I never talked her once before, during, or after class.

Then during finals week, I had to go to the class to have a grade conference with the instructor. I showed up early, as I really liked the instructor and did not want to be late. And while I was waiting, the girl showed up to wait for her conference outside the door. I then had a choice. I could either wait in uncomfortable silence with her, or I could talk to her. Since my inner pervert wanted another excuse to look at her up close, I chose to talk with her. And that's when I had the best 15 minutes of my entire freshman year. She wasn't just unbelievably beautiful. She was also just as smart and funny as she was pretty. She was impressed that I was going to Sweden on my mission, and when my time for the conference came up, she wished me good luck. And if I hadn't been less than two weeks away from becoming sequestered in Provo, I swear I would have asked her for a date. But what's the point in dating when you're about to leave the country for two years? 

After the conference, I went straight to my dorm and told everyone that I'd talked with her. They didn't believe me at first, but when I started telling them the details of our conversation and what I'd learned about her, they realized I wasn't lying. I had actually spoken to her. They were all jealous--except for Chris--and were quite pissed that they hadn't ventured to talk with her before, as it was very clear that if I could do it, then they would have been able to do it as well.

So what does that college experience with a blonde Aphrodite have to do with the St. Vincent album? Annie Clark--who goes by the stage name "St. Vincent"--is kind of like that girl that everyone was terrified of speaking to. If you've ever seen her play guitar and sing on television, you'd think she was an off-her-rocker rocker. She does a kind of freaky performance art in all of her videos and television appearances, so it's tempting to dismiss her as one of those musicians that does weird stuff to get everyone's attention away from the crappy music that they're playing. But Annie doesn't play crappy music. She is an exceptional guitarist and singer. She studied music for three years at Berklee College of Music--one of the top music schools in the world--before dropping out to start her music career. She didn't graduate from Berklee because she felt like she had learned everything she wanted to, and she was ready to start playing and recording music. She had a couple of albums before releasing St. Vincent, including a collaboration with David Byrne of Talking Heads fame. But it was the 2014 album St. Vincent that really brought her national attention. She performed on SNL (where I saw her first), as well as on Late Night with David Letterman and all the other late-night shows. St. Vincent then won the 2015 Grammy for Best Alternative Music Album. Annie has also won the 2019 Grammy for Best Rock Song "Masseduction."


After seeing Annie perform on SNL, I bought St. Vincent before Julie and I set out on a week-long anniversary vacation to the Oregon and California coast. I listened to this album many times during that week. Julie wasn't fond of it, but she has this habit of sleeping while I'm driving, even if music is playing, so she slept through the album about as many times as I listened to it. The most popular songs on the album are "Digital Witnesses" and "Birth in Reverse." I think that's because the rest of the songs are well outside of what you'd hear on most radio stations, although they might get some airplay on an "alternative" radio station. How can you tell it's an "alternative" station? Simple--it has advertisements for the local co-op and whole-food farmer's market. 

Annie calls what she does "Art Rock," and she characterized St. Vincent as "a party album you can play at a funeral." I'd characterize it as "Freaky Car Surround-Sound Theater for Driving Through Oregon," because the sound mixing creates a complex three-dimensional listening space that is best experienced through at least four stereophonic speakers enveloping the aural space around you, so...yeah...in the car.

Following the success of St. Vincent, Annie collaborated with Music Man guitars to make a St. Vincent signature guitar. 

To me it looks like what you'd get if Rosie the Robot had a love child with Eddie Van Halen. Annie plays this guitar when she performs now, so in case you're in the market for a rock guitar with three pickups that can produce a variety of tones, here are the links.





I think the way Annie approaches her music is really smart. She looks at what she's doing as a more holistic form of artistic expression, not just "playing music." And from the design decisions that she made with her signature guitar and her music videos, I have to admit that I'm impressed with her overall understanding of the design process. 

You'd think from the lyrics on St. Vincent, as well as the strange videos that came out with some of the songs, that Annie is a deeply disturbed woman that takes life way to seriously. But that's all part of the show. She is capable of recognizing and expressing strong and sometimes disturbing emotions--like in the song "Severed Crossed Fingers." But she also has a lighter side and can be quite funny, as evidenced by her performance in the following comedy videos.




Also, in January of 2020, the Sundance Film Festival featured Annie in a mockumentary film with Carrie Brownstein (of "Portlandia" fame) called "Nowhere Inn." I haven't seen the movie, nor could I find any clips that were ripped off from it on YouTube, which leads me to wonder if the film was actually made, because ripping off scenes from movies is what makes up 97% of YouTube content. Either way, it shows that Annie has a sense of humor about what she does. 

Knowing all of this about Annie makes it easy for me to be a fan of St. Vincent (both the band and the album), because I know that even though the music and the videos and the Art Rock performances are a bit odd, Annie's sense of humor provides enough grounding in reality for me to say yeah, that looks kind of freaky, but she knows it looks freaky too, and part of her is amused that she's even doing it. And like the blonde Aphrodite from college, I find Annie's particular mix of beauty, intelligence, and humor quite irresistible.

Wednesday, March 10, 2021

56. Luck of the Draw by Bonnie Raitt

 56. Luck of the Draw by Bonnie Raitt

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mJ58TVYNFro&list=OLAK5uy_kAobGEvqF4GXZhBKd_081jFSs5lbLVxrM

Having just graduated from Idaho State with my teaching degree, I got my first full-time teaching gig in 1991 at Irving Jr. High. I was so excited to put my classroom together that I showed up at work 2 weeks early and started setting up my room before any of the other teachers on my team showed up. I brought my old stereo system and listened to music while I put up posters on the walls, decorated the big bulletin board, and set up my desk and working space. I had recently purchased the tape for Luck of the Draw for Julie, but I ended up taking it to work so I could listen to it while I puttered around the classroom and created worksheets and lesson plans on my 386 computer (which was the most powerful computer in the school, since they didn't have computers for teachers back then, and all the computers in the lab were several years old). There were other teachers on my team that eventually showed up, and when they heard Luck of the Draw playing in my room, they came around and told me how much they liked the album. It was one of those albums that both country and rock fans liked. They said to keep playing the music because they liked it, and they didn't have a stereo system in their room. So the whole area rocked out to the tape quite often as we put our classrooms together.

One day the principal heard the noise and came around to see who was up to what so early before school started. His office was at the other end of the building--which happened to be the longest Jr. High in Idaho, so we didn't see him down our way all that often. He was quite impressed that I'd brought in my computer, and after that first look at my classroom, he started putting all of the computer-related literature he got in my mailbox. Because of that, I ended up getting to go to some trainings on teaching with computers--something that the school district was just barely starting to figure out. And because I was the "computer guru" at my end of the building, I got a lot of teachers coming to me to ask for help with their computer questions. Anyway, I got a reputation for being an "innovative" teacher because I did stuff with my computer, and that eventually led me to studying instructional technology and deciding to stop teaching and get my PhD in it. 

So now whenever I listen to any of the songs from that album, I'm transported back to my classroom at Irving Jr. High. And in a way, it's because of Luck of the Draw that I got opportunities that led me to eventually go to grad school and become an instructional designer instead of a 7th grade teacher. But I look back on my teaching days with fondness, and while I now teach courses online for the college I work at, it isn't as much fun teaching college as it is to teach 7th graders, and if I could go back to teaching language arts again with my stereo playing Bonnie Raitt, I probably would.

The album received good reviews when it came out in 1991. It was nominated for a Grammy for Album of the Year, but it didn't end up winning that award. I think that's because Bonnie had won the 1989 Album of the Year with Nick of Time. And it's pretty rare for the Grammy voters to give out more than one album of the year awards to the same artist. Only six artists have done that, and only three had done that before Bonnie won--Frank Sinatra, Stevie Wonder, and Paul Simon. Both albums are excellent, but I think that Luck of the Draw is better than Nick of Time in a lot of ways, including the quality of the music, lyrics, and singing.

However, three songs on Luck of the Draw did end up winning three other 1991 Grammys, including (a) Best Pop Vocal Performance, Female for "Something to Talk About"--a song that was also nominated for Record of the Year--(b) Best Rock Vocal Performance Solo for "Luck of the Draw," and (c) Best Rock Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocal for "Good Man, Good Woman." 

But in my opinion, as well as in the opinion of may others, the best song on the album has to be "I Can't Make You Love Me," which features Bruce Hornsby on the piano. It's on several "Greatest Songs of All Time" lists, which I think is only right. Anyone that has felt the pain of unrequited love will understand the absolute perfection of the song. In fact, now that I think about it, I probably should have included this song on my Top 200 list. It's certainly more deserving than "Funky Cold Medina." Oh, well. Bonnie wins out in the end, because by being on my Top 60 album list, she's being recognized for 12 great songs instead of just one. 

Besides "I Can't Make You Love Me," I think two other underrated sad songs on this album are "One Part Be My Lover"--about a couple on the verge of a breakup--and "All at Once"--about a couple that's divorced, but the man keeps coming around to see the daughter, which makes it more painful for the woman. Toward the end of the song, there's the excellent line--"Why the angels turn their backs on some, it's a mystery to me." 

Now, don't get me wrong and think all I care about are the downers on this album. There are plenty of songs on the album with an upbeat feeling, and I like them all. But it's the quality of these sad songs that I think elevates the album to a Top 60 level. Maybe that's because they bring a balance to the album that reflects the emotional ups and downs of life, and that makes it feel like the songs are being sung by someone that's got real life experience and is capable of telling powerful truths, even when those truths hurt. 

Because of the heaping helping of truth we get on this album, it just gets better and better with time as I get older and have more life experience. The lyrics now have a much deeper meaning for me than I imagined that they ever would 30 years ago when I first heard them. And if this trend continues, then in another 30 years when I do another Top 60 albums list or Top 200 songs list or Top 3 things I can still remember but who the hell are you and what are you doing in my room with that catheter list, then "I Can't Make You Love Me" will definitely replace "Funky Cold Medina"--unless "Funky Cold Medina" is what my robot nurse gives me in the morning to help me pee. But will I really live that long? I don't know. I might make it to 85. Or I might keel over at 55. Who knows? It's in the luck of the draw.

Sunday, March 7, 2021

57. Tarantella by Chuck Mangione

57. Tarantella by Chuck Mangione

https://youtu.be/xwVCY1ZCoFQ

Toward the end of the summer of 1981, I got my first job as a lifeguard at Lava Hot Springs. My sister Renda was the head lifeguard, and she needed a few new lifeguards to work for about 6 weeks before the pool closed. Since it's kind of hard to find people who both (a) know how to swim well enough to rescue someone and (b) are willing to go through one week of training to work for just 6 weeks at minimum wage, she talked me into doing the job, even though I wasn't 16 yet, which was supposed to be a requirement to get the gig.

At the end of those six weeks, I had a fist-sized wad of cash saved up just as school started up. No, literally--it was a wad of cash rolled up into something that was the size of my fist. And why didn't I put that money in the Downey State Bank where all of the rest of my meager wealth was? Because like most teenage boys in the '80s, I wanted to buy something really bad, and I could only get it from someone at school, because I had no idea how to get my hands on it, but I knew someone who did. So during the first week of school, I walked into band class with over $500 in my pocket and gave that wad of cash to...Tom Banyas. He was kind of surprised that I had brought cash, as he was expecting a check from my parents. But I wanted to do this on my own, and teenage boys living in Marsh Valley in the '80s didn't have checking accounts. Cash was the only way to do business. 

About two months after giving Banyas the money, he told me that he'd received the thing I had ordered, and that I could have it that day, but he asked if it was okay if we opened it and showed it to the class. Being the shy boy that I was, I said that I'd rather not draw attention to myself, so I'd rather take it home and open it on my own.

Just kidding. I was a class clown of epic proportions and was always on the lookout for some way to get attention from others. I was totally up for the big reveal in front of the entire band class. So Banyas brought out a black case, and I opened it to feast my eyes on its contents privately for a few seconds--just to build dramatic tension--then I reached into the case and took out my shiny new silver flugelhorn. I held it up for everyone to see while Banyas talked to the band about the differences between the trumpet and the flugelhorn. He then let me play a few notes on it before asking if he could play it. I of course let him do that, and he played something really nice, and he then showed how it was possible to reach some low notes on the flugelhorn that couldn't be played on a trumpet. Then we had band class, and I let some of the other trumpet players like Chris and Doug play it a little bit. I remember Doug saying that he was nervous that he'd drop it and put a dent in it, so he gave it back to me. (Three days later, I dropped it and put a dent in the bell, which remains there to this day.) 


What does all of this have to do with the album Tarantella? The whole reason I wanted to get a flugelhorn was because about a year before I heard the song "Legend of the One-Eyed Sailor" played on the FM radio while waiting in the parking lot at night for Mom to finish up some church meeting. It was a 7 minute and 47 second song, so it was probably the longest song I'd ever heard on the radio in my life at that point. I liked that song so much that I went out and bought a rather expensive double-album at Fred Meyer (Grand Central?) just to get that one song. 

Chuck had written "Legend of the One-Eyed Sailor" about 10 years earlier, so you'd think I would have been able to find a cheaper album with that song on it. But the record selection was slim in Pocatello at that time, even more so at that store, and I was lucky to find any Chuck Mangione albums, much less one that had the song I wanted. So I went home and listened to the "Legend of the One-Eyed Sailor" repeatedly on the stereo downstairs. Eventually, I started to listen to the other songs on the album, and I found that I liked them all very much. It was also my introduction to Dizzy Gillespie--the famous trumpeter with the super-large puffed-out cheeks--who Chuck loves so much that he wears a chain around his neck that has a pendant in the shape of Dizzy's trumpet, which has the horn bent upwards due to an accident Dizzy had in which he dropped the horn right before a performance (I can relate). He loved how the sound was so different coming from it at that angle, so he kept it that way from then on. 

Anyway, Dizzy is featured on "Things to Come," "'Round Midnight," and "Manteca"--a song he wrote. "Manteca" is an 11-minute long song, so you really have to want to listen to it to get all the way through it, but Dizzy plays the Jews harp at the end, and that's supremely entertaining--at least I found it entertaining enough for me to go out and buy a Jew's harp so that I could learn to play it too.


Another jazz great that is featured on the album is Chick Corea, who just died about a month ago (February 7, 2021). He plays piano on "My One and Only Love." And he plays trumpet and percussion on a few of the songs as well. 

During my freshman year at Ricks College, when Chuck Mangione came to perform on campus, I went to the concert with Chris. I was thrilled to hear Chuck play live, and his set included a number of songs off this album, including "Legend of the One-Eyed Sailor," "Bellavia," "Hill Where the Lord Hides," and "The XIth Commandment"--the last song being an extra commandment that was not featured in any of the Old Testament classes at Ricks. (Jazz musicians have to follow a higher law.)

Over the years, I've purchased other Chuck Mangione albums, all of which are a delight to listen to. But it was this album that really turned me into a Jazz fan (of the music, not the basketball team). And this album is the last straight up jazz album on my list. There are other albums that definitely have a bit of jazz in their DNA, but none of them are like Kind of Blue, Time Out, or Tarantella. I suppose I should put all three of these higher on the list of albums, but my appreciation of jazz songs like this inform my appreciation of all other types of music, so I put them here on the list as a way to recognize the influence that jazz music has had on my overall taste in music. 

I don't have my flugelhorn or trumpet anymore. I gave them both to my niece, who played them in her high school band. Her band teacher wouldn't let her play the flugelhorn during marching band (stupid teacher!). But her band played in the Rose Parade, and for a brief 3 seconds, she was on national television playing my old trumpet, which I had inherited from my brother Jeff after he died. So even though I didn't ever make it in the music industry, at least my trumpet somehow managed to get heard and viewed by millions of people. 

Finally, I can't emphasize how important Tom Banyas was to me as a teacher, and how he taught me to love jazz at a very deep level by letting me play some trumpet solos on some of the jazz songs we played in high school band. Both Chris and I tried out for band in college, but my performance during the audition was so embarrassing that I never even went back to check if I made it. The guy asked me to play a bunch of different scales and sight read a piece of music, and I couldn't do any of it. Anyway, that audition put a very abrupt end to any desire I might have had to become a musician. But I have played a number of instruments in public since then, including a rousing performance of "Sweetly Sings the Donkey" on the accordion--a performance for which I received mixed reviews. But then again, I was singing it in front of a large gathering of intergenerational Republicans and Jazz fans (of the basketball team, not the music), so that's to be expected. Maybe I should have played "Thunderstruck" on my Jews harp instead.

Friday, March 5, 2021

58. Time Out by The Dave Brubeck Quartet

 58. Time Out by The Dave Brubeck Quartet

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EKeS0D3uQhE&list=OLAK5uy_mo1JrADSY-s5PlmoAEOSf9Sv_FBVgVF7A

If you remember playing "Mars, Bringer of War" in high school band competition, then you also probably remember how difficult it is to play in 5/4 time. You remember, the classical piece that Banyas always had to stop us from playing at the beginning of the song to say, "It goes dah-dah-dah daah daah dat-dat-daah." You know, the one that everyone hated to play because there were five frickin' quarter notes in a measure instead of the three and four beats that we had learned to play in EVERY OTHER SONG WE EVER PLAYED. Banyas was hoping that the 5/4 time signature would impress the band competition judges, and we'd get a Superior rating from them. That never happened. Probably because we had some drummers--not Jim Sterner though--that could barely keep regular 4/4 time, and they'd inevitably get lost with the 5/4 time, and Sterner had to wrangle them all back on track in the middle of the song. (I believe Jim went on to play drums in the armed forces, so tip of the hat to him for keeping on playing music after that last song during high school graduation.)

Like Banyas, Dave Brubeck had this idea for a jazz album that he thought might impress a few people by incorporating some strange time signatures. Time Out is made up of songs that were mostly played in weird time signatures like 5/4, 6/4, and 9/8--with 3/4 and 4/4 thrown in the middle of some songs just for the fun of it. The result is an album that is quite fun to listen to, although I bet it was hell to play and not mess up. 

The Dave Brubeck Quartet features four great Jazz players, including Dave Brubeck on piano, Paul Desmond on saxophone, John Stockton on drums, and Carl Malone on bass. And because the songs have an eclectic mix of time signatures, the album cover has some funky Picassoesque abstract art on it.

This album has much more of an upbeat sound than Kind of Blue--which is so chill you can cool iceless drinks just by placing them in front of the speaker. So if you want some jazz you can listen to while doing something active, like cleaning up around the house, mixing Sprite and lime martinis for dinner guests, or robbing a casino with the rest of the Rat Pack, then Time Out is the album for you. It was the first jazz album to sell over a million copies. And the stand-out song on the album--"Take Five"--was the first jazz single to sell over a million copies. Consequently, it's no surprise that you end up hearing "Take Five" on so many movies and TV shows. It's a much more famous song, I think, than anything on Kind of Blue. And it's "Take Five" that nudges this album above Kind of Blue for me.

I highly recommend giving the entire album a listen to the next time you want to brighten your mood with something that is intellectually challenging but pleasant to listen to at the same time. But I do caution you to NOT try to tap your foot on any of the songs on this album, because you're liable to break your ankle if you do. 

Thursday, March 4, 2021

59. Kind of Blue by Miles Davis

 59. Kind of Blue by Miles Davis

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gK_Tmcrv6cg&list=OLAK5uy_nNowSDRXeotBWkCyljP2pnYkLOvj9CMnA

Miles Davis on trumpet and Bill Evans on piano and John Coltrane on the saxophone. If that sentence didn't make your ears perk up in joyous anticipation, then you're not a Jazz fan (of the music genre, not the basketball team). It is a jazz masterpiece, and playing it in surround sound stereo while you're relaxing at home by the fire with the lights turned low and drinking a cold but ice-less drink is one of the nicest things you can ever do for your ears. 

There is no single stand-out song on this album. They're all practically perfect in every way--like a musical Mary Poppins. When most people think of trumpet jazz, they think of loud high notes and blistering fast runs up and down the scale that speed past your ears like a freight train about to run off the track. But Miles would have none of that on Kind of Blue. It's slow and soft (mostly) and controlled. Being a trumpet player myself, I am amazed at what Miles accomplished with this album. I think Jazz is the greatest artistic contribution that America has made to world culture, and this album in particular is one of the best jazz recordings ever made, an opinion shared by many others, as it is often cited as the best-selling jazz album of all time. 

Even though I learned to love jazz trumpet in middle school and high school--having taken many trumpet lessons from that great jazz trumpet player Tom Banyas--I will admit that I discovered this album later on in life during grad school at Utah State. I'd listen to this album repeatedly for hours at a time whenever I had to do HTML coding or other routine tasks in at work. Strangely enough, this "blue" music made me feel happy enough to keep churning away at the mindless computer work until it got done. I think the happy feeling may come from the way it kind of connects up with the jazz of my childhood--the Charlie Brown TV special piano jazz by Vince Guaraldi, which is the music they play in heaven whenever the angels take a break to clean out the trumpets (angel spit is seriously corrosive) and tune the harps (because angel fingernails are harder than diamonds).

If I ever pick up the trumpet again and relearn how to play it, this is the kind of trumpet music I'd want to play. (Because my old lips wouldn't be able to handle the high-note pep band songs.) And when I die, if they hand me a trumpet, I hope that this is the kind of music they want to hear...in hell. Because that's where I figure I'm headed. But as long as I'm still above ground, to be honest, I'd rather listen to this album than any church music any day. In fact, if they started playing "Flamenco Sketches" during sacrament, I'd be tempted to plunk my sinner's butt down on the back row each Sunday, even though we're currently smack dab in the middle of a get-out-of-church-free pandemic. Do you think Chris could use his bishoply powers to make that happen? He probably could. Once. 

"Welcome, brothers and sisters, to the House of Jazz!"

60. The White Album by The Beatles

 60. The White Album by The Beatles

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nS5_EQgbuLc&list=OLAK5uy_njHTOnoK_aQOAa3XvnvmzZ76n8cBIJquI

Most people would put this one much higher on their list of top albums. Here's why it's the first album on the list at number 60 for me. Because it's the first album I remember listening to. That's because Mom heard "Rocky Racoon" on the radio one night when she was up tending two-year-old me that wouldn't go to sleep. She really liked the song and thought that it was the kind of song that would be sung about me, so she went out and bought The White Album just so she could listen to "Rocky Racoon" whenever she wanted. Mom and Dad even called me Rocky Racoon as a nickname for many years.

My older sister Tracy LOVED this album and played it a lot. So when Mom wasn't listening to it while tending me, Tracy was probably playing it while she was tending me. So this album is DEEPLY rooted into my brain, and it's the only one that I remember hearing while we lived in Pocatello before we made the move to Arimo--which happened the summer after I turned three years old.

There isn't much to say about the album cover. It's white. But the album insert featured huge pictures of all the Beatle's faces. 


In my family, there's a story of Carol asking Mom, "Does God love everyone?" And Mom said, "Yes, God loves everyone." And Carol said, "Even these men?" and she showed Mom this picture. And Mom laughed and said, "Yes. Even those men."

If you ever want to know what 60 hippies looked like, just slip out those liner notes and unfold the poster that featured a montage of all the Beatles doing all sorts of hippy-ish things--like sitting crosslegged on floor or singing at some dive bar or growing a bad mustache. 

Since it's a double album, and since it's the Beatles at their pre-married-to-Yoko best, this album has a song for pretty much any kind of feeling you want to feel. 

Are you angry? "Helter Skelter. "

Are you feeling peaceful? "Revolution 1."

Are you happy? "Birthday."

Are you sad? "While My Guitar Gently Weeps." "Cry Baby Cry."

Are you tired? "I'm So Tired."

Are you sleepy? "Good Night."

Are you lonely? "Yer Blues." "Don't Pass Me By.

Are you bored? "Long, Long, Long." 

Are you confused? "Revolution 9." "Glass Onion.

Are you feeling contemplative? "Mother Nature's Son."

Are you feeling silly? "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da." "Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey."

Are you feeling like killing something or someone? "The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill." "Rocky Racoon." "Happiness Is a Warm Gun."

Are you hungry? "Piggies." "Honey Pie." "Wild Honey Pie." "Savoy Truffle."

Are you in love? "Dear Prudence." "Sexy Sadie." "Back in the U.S.S.R." "Martha My Dear." "Julia." "I Will."

Are you horny? "Why Don't We Do It In The Road?"

Obviously, there are a LOT of good songs on this album. But for my money, the very best song is
"Blackbird," even though it's the simplest song on the album. It's just Paul singing while playing an acoustic guitar and taping his foot and, of course, a blackbird singing toward the end. I don't know how this song does it, but it always manages to make me choke up with sadness and despair and joy and hope simultaneously. 

Some have criticized the album as being a disjointed collection of songs that had no central theme to the lyrics or consistent musical theme. To those people I say, "Ummm...didn't you listen to 'A Day In The Life?' Disjointed collections of songs with no central theme is kind of what the Beatles do!" So I'd say that this album is quintessential Beatles and, based on my own experience, is definitely worth listening to over and over and over for at least 52 years. And I can't say that for any other album on the list.

The Top 60 Albums

Push pause on "The Best Songs You Ain't Never Heard," and press play on "The Top 60 Albums list. Why now? Because with the Top 200 list, I waited until HondoJoe finished his list before I began mine, and I think the list lost a bit of Oomph to it at the end because it had been over five years since the whole project started. So this time, I'm going to join in the list-making at the same time. Hopefully, this way the entire sharing of the lists will get done on a timetable that won't stretch out until I hit my 60s, which it very well could if I waited to work on it until after HondoJoe finishes his. 

With that in mind, here comes my Top 60 Albums--kind of. As with my Top 200 list, it won't include any Billy Joel albums because if I did include them, they'd all be at the top of the list. And yes, that would include his classical piano album. That's because my love of Billy Joel is not rational. (You may be correct. I may be insane.) And piling all of his albums at the top of the list would be, well, rather predictable and boring and anti-climactic. And dammit! I want to be climactic!

As with the Top 200 list, my selection criteria won't be the same as HondoJoe's. That's not because I think HondoJoe's criteria are not good. They are EXCELLENT criteria, and I am keen to read each HondoJoe entry on the list because of them. But having read the first 8 on the list, I realize that I think about my album selections in a different way, so I'm going to need to use different criteria to reflect my thoughts on them. But here are a few criteria that limit what will and won't appear on this list.

1. No "Greatest Hits" albums. Yes, I think they're fun to listen to, but they don't have that special something that the album's had that they originally appeared on. Half the fun of listening to an album is enjoying the non-hit songs that help to give the album its special character. Greatest Hit albums are basically shameless cash grabs--not a holistic work of artistic expression. And that's one of the reasons why I really hated that Billy Joel released new songs on his Greatest Hits albums. I wanted those on a full album, dammit! (Apparently, I want to say dammit a lot right now. So, dammit! I will!)

2. No movie soundtracks that consist of a collection of different artists singing songs that are featured in the movie. Now, I will include movie soundtracks if they're by one artist or band and have that holistic album feel to them. But I won't include albums like the soundtrack to "Cocktail," even though it does have some good songs on it that I'm fond of because we had that tape when I first got married, and I have good memories of that time. However, those kind of movie soundtracks are too much like "Greatest Hits" albums--they lack that certain special something...dammit!

3. No holiday albums. I really like the Peanut's songs on the album for "A Charlie Brown Christmas," but I decided that I wasn't going to include Christmas albums because they're the kind of thing you listen to during the season, but then you don't listen to them the rest of the year because, well, it just feels wrong. I mean, when was the last time you listened to Christmas music in March? So I'm only going to include albums that I'll listen to the whole year round.

And that's it. Everything else if fair game. Now prepare yourself for Captain Nardo's Top 60 Albums. Dammit!