Lightfoot!

One of the strongest hooks of the vinyl adventure which Paloma and I have recently set out upon is the affordability of discovering music that had been previously unheard. Or, in the case of Gordon Lightfoot, familiarizing ourselves with the work of an artist with whom our knowledge is middling (although Paloma informs me that, via her grandmother, she has middled more with Gordon than I).

At a previous job, two of my closest friends and I would spontaneously blurt out “Lightfoot!” in a fashion similar to Jerry Seinfeld muttering “Newman!” I don’t think any of us considered Gordon to be an arch-nemesis and I doubt that any of us knew much more of the man’s music aside from his hits.

So, several weeks ago, while browsing for albums, when I came across a copy of his two-LP set Gord’s Gold for a mere dollar, I pounced. It’s proven to be worth several times what I paid, providing a calming effect on me as I commute to work down what can hardly be described as a carefree highway (Sting was more accurate when, in the song Synchronicity II, he referred to “rush hour hell” and drivers “packed like lemmings into shiny metal boxes, contestants in a suicidal race.”).

As much as I’ve enjoyed Gord’s Gold, I’ve been hesitant to purchase other titles of his and much of it has to do with the album covers and his appearance which, to me, is a disappointment.

See, maybe it’s because of his signature song The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald, but it is difficult for me to picture Lightfoot as anything other than a nautical sort. Note the contrast between the cover for Gord’s Gold and his 1967 album The Way I Feel.

The scallywag on the cover of the former could comfortably sit with Robert Shaw’s Quint in some coastal dive, telling bawdy jokes and recounting tales from the briny deep, punctuating things with a rum-soaked “Aye!”

The freshly-scrubbed, earnest fellow on the cover of the latter would likely risk being reduced to tears by a profanity-laced tirade for failing to double-bag Quint’s groceries at the A&P.

But, as I am greatly enjoying the man’s rich baritone and evocative lyrics and, as Bob Dylan and Robbie Robertson have declared themselves to be fans of the Canadian troubadour, maybe I just need to stay focused on the music.

I haven’t spent enough time with Gord’s Gold to know much of it well, but I do quite like Canadian Railroad Trilogy , which reminds me, thematically, of Dire Strait’s epic Telegraph Road (which features some wicked playing by Mark Knopfler).

I know that I’ve come across the song on some music blog and I thought it had appeared on Echoes In The Wind. During a quick search, I couldn’t find it, but whiteray does appear to be in agreement with Dylan and Robertson as there are numerous appearances by Lightfoot, including a really nice entry on The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald.

I also ripped Gord’s Gold from vinyl as album sides, so the four songs which I do have as individual tracks are ones with which even casual music fans are likely familiar.

Gordon Lightfoot – The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald
I would have to think that even my late grandmother knew this song. Is The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald the Stairway To Heaven of ’70s singer/songwriters? Can I get a ruling?

The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald actually does not appear on Gord’s Gold as it was released the year after Gord’s Gold.

Gordon Lightfoot – If You Could Read My Mind
I’ve read that this song is about the break-up of Lightfoot’s first marriage and it certainly is a somber affair. Of course, it also is a good example of the smooth-talking ways of Lightfoot, so I imagine he was fairly suave when it came to the ladies.

Gordon Lightfoot – Carefree Highway
Gordon loves the open road, apparently as much as I love bacon. If Gordon and I were on a road trip, you can be damned sure that we’d be eating bacon along the way (and likely arguing over what radio station to listen to).

Oh yeah, apparently there is a stretch of interstate in central Arizona which is actually referred to as the Carefree Highway.

Gordon Lightfoot – Sundown
According to Wikipedia, Sundown is about Cathy Smith, Lightfoot’s girlfriend at the time, who even drove his tour bus. She later became a drug dealer and, most infamously, was involved in the death of John Belushi, allegedly selling him the drugs that killed him (and by some accounts being the person who injected him).

On All Music Guide, the reviewer interprets the song as being about the complications of falling in love with a prostitute (are there tour bus-driving hookers?).

Maybe Lightfoot is, indeed, a scallywag.

Eating Bacon With Paul McCartney

I’m not sure what I meant with this title. It’s simply something written on a Post-It note where I’ve scribbled ideas.

I do like bacon. I sometimes believe that if the possible consequences of global warming included a threat to the supply of bacon – as opposed to less exciting possibilities like famine, strife, war, and environmental destruction – there would be a great public outcry here in the West. (Hell, maybe it would even convince Sarah Palin that global warming is a threat).

There would be such a effort put forth to, literally, saving our bacon, it would make the Marshall Plan seem like putting together a model railroad countryside. It would have to be called The Homer Simpson Plan.

But eating bacon with Paul McCartney seems like a sketchy proposal. Isn’t Sir Paul a vegetarian? And quite committed to that venture? Because I don’t think I’d be willing to eat tofu or any other non-bacon bacon even with a Beatle. I would consider meeting him part of the way if we could agree on turkey bacon.

I do know that the title phrase came from a conversation between Paloma and me. I asked her if she recalled what I now refer to as The Paul McCartney/Bacon Conversation, but it didn’t seem to have made the same impact on her as me.

I suppose it was a rather unusual conversation. I’d just love to know why I was prompted to file the idea (there was a Seinfeld episode where Jerry had a similar mental lapse leading to a fateful trip to see Tor Eckman – “He’s an herbalist, a healer.”).

Obviously, this babble leads me to some songs of Paul McCartney, but I had to do a search to see if I had any bacon music. I have none (which is a bit unfortunate).

As for Sir Paul, I must confess that I am most familiar with his post-Beatles’ hits and I should become more acquainted the full albums. Also, as my late dog’s vet is a friend of Sir Paul (as well as my friend Michael), the possibility of eating bacon with McCartney might not be so far-fetched (so I’m glad I’ve given it some thought).

Paul McCartney – Silly Love Songs
Silly Love Songs is really the first McCartney song (aside from, of course, The Beatles) that I recall hearing. During the summer in which it was a hit (’75? ’76?), it seemed to always be playing over the loudspeakers at our local, public pool. Sure, it’s a bit flimsy, but it’s breezy and catchy and it makes me think of summer.

Paul McCartney – Let ‘Em In
Silly Love Songs and Let ‘Em In both appeared on Wings At The Speed Of Sound and the All-Music Guide review refers to the two songs as “so lightweight that their lack of substance seems nearly defiant.”

Substanceless defiance aside, Let ‘Em In reminds me of a childhood friend who had the 45. The only other 45 which I remember them having was The Pretenders’ Brass In Pocket which they mistakenly bought for the b-side, Space Invader, thinking it was a similarly titled novelty song about the video game which was popular at the time.

Paul McCartney – Take It Away
By 1982, music had become an increasingly important part of my life and Paul McCartney had reunited with the legendary Sir George Martin for his album Tug Of War. I was fairly ambivalent about the much-maligned Ebony And Ivory which was inescapable on radio during that spring.

I was equally ambivalent about Tug Of War‘s second single, Take It Away, when it proved inescapable during that summer. Looking back, the song was likely a bit too sophisticated for my undeveloped ears but now I can appreciate it as a delightful pop gem.

Paul McCartney – Band On The Run
Still one of my favorite songs of McCartney’s post-Beatle output (it is necessary to make that distinction, isn’t it?) A bit darker than much of his material, Band On The Run is darker still to me as I very much associate it with its use in the movie The Killing Fields

Some People You’d Rather Not Meet In A Dark Alley

Then, there are people like Icelandic singer Bjork, who you’d rather not meet in a well-lit international airport. No, she hasn’t throttled another member of the paparazzi as she’s done a couple times in the past.

From what I’ve read, the beatdowns (one in Thailand in ’96, the other in New Zealand this past January) were justifiable, but every time I think of them or come across their mention, the mental picture that comes to my mind is alternately comical and frightening.

Personally, I find Bjork to be one of the more fascinating humans of my lifetime. There’s certainly a unique musical and artistic vision. She’s like a post-punk Neil Young in that you never know what you’ll get, but it’s mostly pretty stellar.

She’s also instilled in me – and, I suppose many other music fans – a curiosity about her Icelandic homeland. Based on what little I know, it’s got to be on the short-list for future destinations. If Bjork’s music and imaginative videos are any indication, Iceland must be the place in this world which most resembles a locale in a Dr. Seuss’ story.

I won’t give too much away as I fear creating an immigration problem for Iceland. Imagine if the mass of humanity that is reading this blog relocated to Iceland (the chaos which would certainly ensue!), but I’ve read that roads are rerouted to not disturb areas in which gnomes are said to inhabit. Is there legislative debate on their version C-SPAN regarding such matters? I’d truly pop popcorn and be enthralled by such a discussion.

I also recall that some poll once named Iceland as the second least likely country in the world to be hit by a terrorist attack (North Korea took top honor). Not that I really fret such an event, but Iceland’s status – for what it’s worth – has to be considered a bonus.

For me, the idea of Iceland as the Dr. Seuss-like world which Bjork’s music conjures in me is compelling and it’s hard for me to choose a handful of songs as favorites (and as I’ve, unfortunately, lost track of her music over the past five years or so, who knows what I’ve missed).

Bjork – Human Behaviour
“If you ever get close to a human
And human behaviour
Be ready be ready to get confused.”

Yeah, that pretty much sums it all up.

Bjork – Army Of Me
Army Of Me would lead a listener to believe that Bjork runs a tight ship – she demands self-sufficience and doesn’t want to hear your bitching. If she has to tell you one more time…well, she’d better not have to tell you one more time.

Bjork – Hyper-Ballad
Now, as I’ve mentioned, the fisticuffs Bjork has engaged in in airports ’round the globe seem justified, but this lovely song also reveals her to be a mischief maker. She openly admits to tossing all kinds of items – “Car-parts, bottles and cutlery, or whatever I find lying around” – off the mountain top where she lives. So, as delightful as she may seem, I suspect that it’s not always a picnic living in Bjork’s neighborhood.

Bjork – Joga

Bjork – Bachelorette
A pair of songs from 1997’s Homogenic album. The former is skittering and twitchy, a bit of a nervous wreck of a song with the lyrics given a spoken word treatment.

The latter is more string-laden, adding to the sense of drama, and the beats are more fluid giving Bachelorette a dream-like, melancholy vibe.

There’s A Place In This World (and whatever world which might or might not come next) For A Gambler

…not that I know much about gambling beyond some basic things nor engaged in much gambling. I do know that it is apparently possible to place a bet on pretty much anything. So, I thought, why not place wagers on the afterlife?

You could bet your entire life savings as, if there turns out of be no afterlife, no one could collect and no one would be the wiser. Make it interesting and have the wagers be on possible outcomes.

“Put me down for ten grand on the likelihood of Bea Arthur being some bar wench in the afterlife at six to one.”

If you get a bit over rambunctious in Valhalla and Bea is the one tossing your ass, you’d collect a cool $60,000.

Then, I realized that, unless the afterlife takes place in a casino (which might be some folks’ idea of heaven), there might not be a need for ducats. If there was, though, you’d have the chance to start out with wads of cash – snack money.

Talking Heads – Heaven
Quirky, brainy and surprisingly funky, but pretty isn’t a word that comes to my mind when I think of The Heads. Heaven is pretty, though. It’s a very soothing song and Fear Of Music (from whence it came) is likely my favorite record of theirs – I Zimbra, Mind, Life During Wartime, and Heaven.

Curve – No Escape From Heaven
I loved Curve’s sound from the first time I heard them on their debut Doppelganger. At times edgy and cacophonous, there’s always a melody underneath the layers of guitars and effects – and Toni Halliday provides some provocative vocals.

Bob Dylan – Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door
Paloma has prodded me to devote an entire entry to Mr. Zimmerman. Maybe. Anyhow, Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door is a song I never tire of hearing. There’s just something about it and it’s vibe of resignation. I know it was from the movie Pat Garrett & Billy The Kid, but I’m not certain if Dylan actually appeared in it (I’m thinking he did).

Whale – Born To Raise Hell
Whale. I really expected great things of them from the moment I first heard Hobo Humpin’ Slobo Babe. They were Swedish, the lead singer wore braces and, this song, was from their debut, We Care, which featured Tricky. Born To Raise Hell makes me think of Bjork fronting a Motorhead cover band.

I don’t believe that I ever heard their second (and last?) album, but I do remember thinking its title – All Disco Dance Must End In Broken Bones – was brilliantly twisted. Then, they just vanished.

The Clash – Straight To Hell
One of my favorite Clash songs and I suddenly realize that I don’t recall seeing any Clash on vinyl since Paloma and I have been buying albums.

Pink Floyd – Run Like Hell
I spoke with Roger Waters once on the program Rockline – a weekly call-in show on Monday nights in the ’80s. As I remember, it was a national broadcast in the US and maybe even stations in Canada. Whatever its reach, it afforded me the opportunity to – in a deer-in-the-headlights moment – call Roger Waters “Rog” (as though we were long-time drinking buddies) before a very sizable audience.

Today Is A Hammer Day

It has absolutely nothing to do with hardware stores, bankrupt MCs from the ’90s, or stupid people (as in “dumber than a bag of hammers”). Today is a Hammer day because of the atmospheric and meteorological conditions that exist outside my window as I sit here babbling into cyberspace like a game show host doing bong hits.

The term was coined by a friend with the moniker the Drunken Frenchman (I assure you that nickname is well-earned) who has a great affection for all things cinematic involving Messrs. Cushing and Lee – more to the point, the classic horror films produced by British studio Hammer during the late ’50s through the early ’70s.

Hammer days occur when the sky is dark or, to give a nod to Uncle Monty, “bruised.” Healthy gusts of wind are also a necessity to the point that there is the occasional banshee-like howl. Rain isn’t a must but, if there is rain, it’s preferable that it is a dreary, misty drizzle as opposed to the jungle rain that we actually have right now. Shards of lightening help complete the setting as well as the low rumble of thunder.

The Drunken Frenchman likes nothing more than to spend such days prostrate on his well-worn couch, the door open to enjoy the conditions, with a bottle of his favorite Scotch and one of the Hammer films flickering on his television screen. Few things – aside from young girls, British rock from the ’60s, or more Scotch – will more quickly bring an orthodontically-challenged smile to his craggy, unshaven mug.

Personally, Hammer days usually make me feel more creative. I’m not sure why – maybe there is some actual science to the stormy weather that makes me feel more juiced, meteorological stuff into which I have no insight. Or, it might just be in my head. Maybe it’s nothing more than the fact that bad weather outside makes it easier to be productive inside.

That’s not always the case, though. Sometimes the wind and the rain, the moody state of Mother Nature outside prompt me to be no more motivated than to take a good nap. And, if that is my fate today, there’s something comforting in the knowledge that no more than six blocks away The Drunken Frenchman is on his couch, Scotch bottle in hand, enjoying a Hammer day while watching Peter Cushing as Dr. Frankenstein bring life to his creation played by Christopher Lee.

I just hope he’s wearing pants (both The Frenchman and Christopher Lee).

So, here’s a quartet of hammer songs (see if you can find the non-musical legend amongst them).

The Beatles – Maxwell’s Silver Hammer

Bob Marley – Hammer

John Prine – Nine Pound Hammer

Zoe – Hammer

Barely Awake For "Frog's Midnight Album"

So, JB at the always engaging The Hits Just Keep On Comin’ invited me to write for Vinyl Record Day. The list includes a lot of blogs which I frequent and there’s some of my favorite writing on many of them. Cool to be invited, but for some reason a bit daunting, too (I’ve mentally scrapped a half dozen ideas over the past three days).

Anyhow, Paloma and I have so recently begun to collect vinyl that every time we go into a store, we both usually have exited with more than a couple wonderful surprises each. Today alone, I managed to nab Kate Bush’ The Sensual World, OMD’s Junk Culture, a good copy of Fleetwood Mac’s Tusk for a dollar (to replace a copy that skips), Marianne Faithfull’s Dangerous Acquaintances, and – based on its appearance – an unplayed copy of Styx’ The Grand Illusion (it’s a childhood/first concert thing).

Possibly the best discovery has not been a single album, but the rediscovery of an album as a collection of songs – as a single work. There can be an art in the sequencing and there are often hidden gems to be found (the torch song Change My Mind from The Motels’ All Four One has been an example of the latter).

One of the most popular radio stations when I was growing up was Cincinnati’s WEBN, an album-rock outlet whose mascot was a frog (no connection). For me, Frog’s Midnight Album was appointment listening – weeknights, at midnight, a new album played in its entirety (it’s a bit sad to think that hundreds of those on Maxell cassettes are likely in a landfill somewhere).

By early 1983, I was more aware of street dates, but as we lived far enough from a major city, I usually had to wait for albums. Those midnight albums on WEBN were a lifeline. I lost a lot of sleep, but I got to hear a lot of music.

So, in the spirit of this day, here are half a dozen songs (ripped, of course, from vinyl) from some of those late nights, listening to (and taping from) Frog’s Midnight Album. (and to find a summary of other blogs devoted to today…go here.

Journey – Send Her My Love
One of the first eagerly-awaited albums of my early music fandom was Frontiers, Journey’s follow-up to Escape. Escape had been a monster and I remember hearing virtually every song from it on radio. Some stations had even given heavy airplay to Only Solutions, the band’s track from the Tron soundtrack, as Escape had run its course.

Separate Ways arrived as Frontiers first single in January of 1983. It seemed like it was always playing on one station or another and, if I recall, the full album was released in early February. I think that WEBN played it the night before street date.

At the time, they could do no wrong and I must have listened to Frontiers a thousand times throughout that spring and summer. Now, I can hear it as a (seemingly) rather calculated imitation of Escape, but Send Her My Love would have been a worthy addition to Frontiers’ predecessor.

The Police – Tea In The Sahara
My early interest in The Police was influenced by my friend Brad (whom I’d met in first grade). He had all of their first four albums, but he also cost me the chance to see them live. He was the friend in our group who unfailingly was able to provide transportation (often without explicit approval from his mom or older brother).

Yet, when The Police came to Cincinnati in the summer of 1984 on their Synchronicity tour (and what would prove to be the final tour of The Police as a working band), Brad had absolutely no interest in the show. I know not why and it is something that puzzles me to this day.

Synchronicity was a constant that summer, though. On the radio, with friends, the album was everywhere and, unlike a lot of Police fans, I do consider it their masterpiece. Not perfect – Paloma has forbidden me to play Mother – but the best of it is awfully close. Tea In The Sahara might be my favorite track.

Frontiers and Escape – those were the two dominant albums of that period for me. But their were other albums that I recorded from WEBN that also defined the time, too.

Cheap Trick – I Can’t Take It
Cheap Trick was on the decline in 1983 and even I, with so little musical history or context, knew it. Although I listened to Next Position Please, it felt like I was doing so more out of loyalty – my friends and I had loved the previous year’s One On One – than interest. But, it was the first Cheap Trick album I owned and I Can’t Take It is pretty stellar.

The Fixx – Reach The Beach
The Fixx and their inconsistent albums were a bit maddening for me. None of their albums I’ve heard has truly engaged me from start to finish, although they’ve had numerous songs – Red Skies, Saved By Zero, Deeper And Deeper, Driven Out – which I loved.

However, 1983’s Reach The Beach was possibly their strongest album. One Thing Leads To Another did nothing for me, but the title song was very Fixx with a moody vibe, not quite dreamy and a bit chilly, with mysterious sounding lyrics.

The Kinks – State Of Confusion
For some reason unknown to me, The Kinks were one of the most popular bands among my friends as well as our schoolmates. It wasn’t simply their classic ’60s stuff, but their newer material from albums like Low Budget and Give The People What They Want.

So, it was a given that 1983’s State Of Confusion would be popular with us. It turned out to be popular with a lot of people (that little song Come Dancing did quite well). The title song was my favorite and a lovely mix of angst and optimism with a mesmerizing chorus.

The Tubes – She’s A Beauty
As my friend Brad influenced my interest in The Police, our friend Bosco influenced our entire group’s interest in The Tubes. Their songs were referenced on a daily basis and Bosco would address you as “Fee” or “Spooner” in honor of band members. So, like The Kinks’ State Of Confusion, The Tubes’ Outside/Inside arrived with the same single-minded interest from us in the spring of 1983.

It didn’t disappoint us as it did a lot of listeners who were fans of their more avant-garde material (all I knew was 1981’s The Completion Backward Principle). But Outside/Inside was a lot of fun and I still remember hearing She’s A Beauty for the first time on 96Rock.

To this day, I don’t think that I’ve ever known a fan more devoted to one band than Bosco was to The Tubes (though he did find time for a lot of other music).

The Toast Of Borneo For An Evening

My accomplishments in life, so far, have been modest. I once avoided receiving what I expected to be a pummeling at the hands of Cheap Trick’s Rick Nielsen (it ended in smiles). And I was the first person to ever recognize Sheryl Crow in public (it ended in frustration).

I have been quite fortunate in having the opportunity to do a bit of traveling, a few times to places that were slightly unusual. Borneo would be on that list.

It was quite a spontaneous trek. Studying in Singapore, we had a long weekend (which hardly mattered as my friends and I took a hands-off approach to attending class) and my friend Shawn and I decided to go somewhere. We met a travel agent, told her how much money we had, and asked where we could go.

“Borneo,” she replied.

I had no more than an approximate idea where Borneo was located, but, six hours later, we were on an airport tarmac in Kuching, Borneo’s capitol. Fortunately, our cabbie deposited us at a 7-11 (no matter where I’ve travelled, there’s always a 7-11) to help us reorient a bit before we headed to a hotel across the street, The Hotel Mexico (excellent lodging should you be in the area and willing to spend six bucks).

Borneo was an experience. There weren’t (m)any “round eyes” aside from Shawn and myself and our typical college attire, combined with the length of my hair, made us rather conspicuous. But, as I recall, most of the locals where polite.

The food was interesting (although we did supplement the local fare with KFC at times), and I discovered one of my favorite beaches as well as the greatest glass of pineapple juice I’ve ever had. We took a river trip with some fisherman and I learned – only once I returned to the States – that the oldest rain forests in the world are in Borneo.

Our final evening began with a couple drinks in the hotel bar at a massive Holiday Inn. It had been built, apparently, when a movie, Farewell To The King starring Nick Nolte, had been filmed in Borneo.

From the hotel bar, we ended up at some nearby street café, indoor seating with the street side wall open to the pedestrian traffic. We drew the usual amount of stares, prompting me to ask our waitress, Lily, “Why does everyone keep staring at us?” She smiled.

“Do people know who we are?” I joked. She appeared puzzled.

I quickly concocted the explanation that we were members of the band R.E.M. (I think I opted to be Peter Buck; Shawn, Michael Stipe, although we bore no resemblance to either aside from being carbon-based lifeforms). I told her how the rest of the band was in Singapore as we prepared for a tour of Southeast Asia (which, as I recall, was true).

Soon, we had attracted a small crowd, regaling them with G-rated tales of life on the road, signing a few autographs, buying a round of drinks, and promising Lily that we would write a song for her (entitled Lily’s Pen, which we had borrowed).

I hope Lily got over the disappointment if she ever purchased an R.E.M. album expecting her song. Meanwhile, five of my favorite songs from the band for whom I was momentarily, albeit not necessarily, the lead guitarist.

R.E.M. – So. Central Rain

R.E.M. – Superman

R.E.M. – Orange Crush

R.E.M. – Belong

R.E.M. – Leave

Holding Auditions In My Head For My Potential Imaginary Friend

As I often remind Paloma, my childhood was spent in the hinterlands of the Midwest, right past where the flat Earth ends, amidst a lot of corn. Its charm is far more apparent given time and distance.

Paloma has heard me recount tales of my years in the wild. There was no MTV because there was no cable. And new music was not easily attainable. Life was often accentuated by imagination out of necessity and, yet, I never had an imaginary friend.

The last item came to my attention the other night when I happened across my copy of The Essential Calvin And Hobbes. The comic strip, which ran for a decade or so beginning in the mid ‘80s was drawn by Bill Watterson, whose been quite reclusive and rarely (never?) has licensed the use of the characters.

Calvin was a hyperactive and imaginative six-year old tyke; his constant partner-in-crime was a stuffed tiger, Hobbes who was as real to Calvin as anyone else. I can’t do them justice in writing, suffice to say it’s good stuff.

Reacquainting myself with the duo, I wondered if I had missed an important childhood trinket, so I held an audition in my head for such a sidekick.

The name Captain Erving popped into my head. I’m thinking it must be some subconscious homage to the great Dr. J, so I kind of like it. And, for some reason (perhaps some subliminal, nautical influence due to repeated viewings of Jaws), I envision Captain Erving, my potential imaginary friend, as a lobster.

It does seem like a lot of responsibility, though, this imaginary friend business. And, I’d much rather have a dog.

However, in honor of Hobbes, here’s some tiger music.

Manic Street Preachers – Send Away The Tigers
The Manics work since the sublime Everything Must Go has been erratic, so their last album was a wonderful surprise. It was lean, wiry rock and the album was the length of a vinyl release. The title track is fantastic.

Pink Floyd – When The Tigers Broke Free
This song was described in some review I read recently as the “holy grail” for Floyd fans. Appearing in the movie The Wall, it wasn’t on the album, and was unavailable commercially. I think my friend Brad – who turned me on to Animals (probably my favorite Floyd album) – had taped a version of the movie for me from the VHS.

Imperial Drag – Breakfast By Tiger (Kiss It All Goodbye)
As great as it is to discover new music on blogs, rediscovering music I loved – but, for whatever reason, I’d forgotten – is another benefit. The criminally underappreciated Jellyfish is one such band that received a lovely tribute over at My Hmphs. When that band came unglued after two spectacular albums, keyboardist Roger Manning formed Imperial Drag

Rosanne Cash – Dance With The Tiger
Speaking of underappreciated, I’d certainly put Rosanne Cash on such a list. Dance With The Tiger comes from her 1990 album Interiors which chronicled the dissolution of her marriage to singer/songwriter Rodney Crowell. The song was written with John Stewart, who recently passed away. In the late ’70s, Stewart had a hit with the song Gold which featured Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham and, though I’m certain that it’s not Buckingham on this song, the guitar work is certainly reminiscent of Lindsey.

After Five Weeks And Innumerable Hours Rifling Through Bins Of Vinyl…

It’s been five weeks since Paloma and I began buying up vinyl. At the outset, we didn’t even have a turntable, but that situation has been remedied and we have bought over 500 albums. It’s been educational.

I, now, realize that finding a copy of Eye To Eye’s debut wasn’t the rare event which I thought it was on one of our early ventures. It’s understandable now, as beyond the one song I knew – the sophisticated, breezy Nice Girls – the album isn’t particularly memorable.

There also seems to be an extraordinary amount of Dan Fogelberg in the bins. I know his hits; most of which I found to be pleasant and a couple I thought to be very good. A lot of folks whose blogs I read seem to be quite enthusiastic about his earlier work, so I probably should take advantage of their availability.

There’ve been surprises and the triumph of finding something special amidst the innumerable copies of Christopher Cross’ debut (it sold five million albums and I’m beginning to think everyone has sold them). I snagged a Dutch import of Kate Bush’s The Kick Inside on silver vinyl for less than the cost of two gallons of gas.

Paloma found an album with a photograph she had taken on the back.

We’ve managed to accumulate an interesting collection thus far and we’re making fewer finds of things that we need to purchase. We’re being a bit more selective.

Our most recent outing added about thirty more albums to the brood. The one that makes me most psyched is a copy of Stevie Wonder’s Original Musiquarium I. The music is amazing (and water is, of course, wet), but it’s the artwork – colorful fish on a dark, soothing background – that has me momentarily mesmerized. It’s like seeing something in high-definition after having known it most of my life with a cover the size of a CD case.

This vinyl thing has gone well. Now we merely need to somehow become independently wealthy so we can sit around with the time to listen to what must be three-hundred fifty sixty hours of music.

Eye To Eye – Nice Girls
Produced by Gary Katz of Steely Dan fame, Nice Girls from the self-titled debut by the duo Eye To Eye was all over the radio where I grew up in the summer of ’82. The album boasts an impressive array of noted session players like Abe Laboriel, Jeff Porcaro, and Jim Keltner as well as guest appearances by Donald Fagen and Rick Derringer.

Perhaps Nice Girls is just too perfect because the rest of the album suffered in comparison and was a bit of a letdown.

Dan Fogelberg – Same Old Lang Syne
I probably should delve further into this late singer/songwriter’s catalog and acquaint myself with something other than his hits. I’ve always been partial to Same Old Lang Syne, though, as it was a huge hit when I first became seriously interested in music. I can still vividly recall hearing it on the radio on a clear, still, snowy night in the winter of ’82 as I rode home from a basketball game with friends.

Kate Bush – Wuthering Heights
One of the more (if not most) underappreciated British superstars here in the States. Like most of us here, Hounds Of Love and the glorious Running Up That Hill served as my introduction to her unique artistry.

Wuthering Heights was her first UK single, written and recorded when she was merely sixteen. I don’t believe I’d ever heard the original until I snagged the aforementioned copy of The Kick Inside. Personally (and what many hardcore Kate fans would consider blasphemous), I think I prefer this rerecorded version with David Gilmour on guitar.

Stevie Wonder – That Girl
JB at The Hits Just Keep On Comin’ acknowledges that all roads seem to lead to 1976 for him. 1982 is my 1976. One of four new songs for his double LP compilation Original Musiquarium I, That Girl was a fixture on radio in the late winter/early spring of ’82. It was, essentially, my introduction to Stevie. Of course, I was familiar with his earlier hits, but That Girl was his current hit as I realized my interest in music.

Last Night I Made A Really Good Sandwich

Like any one of us who toss our ramblings out to the world over the internet, I’ve pondered if anyone actually reads this stuff (which is little more than my cranial housecleaning). This destination might be quiet save for the whistling wind and eerily still except for tumbleweeds if it wasn’t for the music posted.

So, when this title popped into my head last night (actually while I was sculpting the titular snack), it struck me as something that would have been said by Newman on that episode of Seinfeld where Kramer finds the set to the Merv Griffin Show. With no material or guests, Newman, as the Ed McMahon to Kramer’s Johnny Carson, opines how he can’t tell the difference between generic and brand-name wax beans.

As I’ve likely mentioned, I appreciate a good sandwich, and, due to my interest in the subject, I have pondered this culinary wonder. I’m a minimalist when it comes to the sandwich – meats, cheeses, good bread, and maybe lettuce – which makes me suspicious to many people.

So, I’m preparing this fine dining experience and realize that I am carefully pondering each move – opting to use cheddar cheese as the segue way from a layer of turkey to roast beef, bridging the roast beef to ham with Swiss. Man, I was in a zone.

And, then, the title Last Night I Made A Really Good Sandwich popped into my head. I wondered if anyone would read anything with such a headline.

Of course, if you’re here, you’re here for the music which is fine because I’d rather be eating a sandwich.

Deconstruction Brothers – Sandwich
I’ve known a fair number of musicians and only a couple truly made me wonder why they didn’t have a sizable audience. One was on a major label and now has a cult following as a fairly successful indie artist.

The other is my friend Eric. I worked with Eric in a record store and have known him for years and I was blown away when I first heard his music. At some point, I need to simply devote an entire entry on his music. With John Wheeler (of Hayseed Dixie), he did an album as Deconstruction Brothers. Intelligent and quirky stuff, they rarely if ever take themselves or anything else too seriously save for a sandwich. I respect that.

Terence Trent D’Arby – Supermodel Sandwich
Isn’t the brief period of stardom for Terence Trent D’Arby kind of something you had to be there for? His debut was a fantastic record and D’Arby was quite the showman with an amazing voice. And then, (relatively) no one cared as his outrageous comments and more eclectic, challenging albums caused his star to fall. I actually quite liked his second record and what little that I have heard since that album, including this song (which is fun aside from a fairly weak chorus).

Stereophonics – Too Many Sandwiches
I so wanted to like The Stereophonics when they arrived in the late ‘90s and they just didn’t wow me as I had hoped. Searching for sandwich songs caused me to stumble back across them amongst the considerable amount of music I have. It was akin to finding that twenty in the pocket of a coat you haven’t worn in three years. The sentiment is treasonous, ludicrous, and altogether – as Kramer would say – “kooky talk,” but the song is groovy stuff and suits the Cheap Trick jag I’ve been on of late. I must revisit their albums that I own. I think I might have overlooked something very cool.

Stone Fox – Shakey Egg
As many songs as I have and so few fit this post. When Stone Fox’s Sandwich King popped up I was, understandably, giddy, but the (not-really-a) song underwhelmed me. I knew that I’d liked a chunk of their self-titled debut in ’96 and wanted to post something that was more worth checking out.