Great Expectations (Let The Rumpus Begin)

Maybe it’s been the events of the past week, or work, or the rain (I swear it’s been raining since August), but there’s been a dearth of nonsensical thoughts and/or whimsical mayhem in my head.

But, I have become certifiably and irrevocably stoked at the upcoming release of Where The Wild Things Are.

The trailers look amazing and the imagery and choice of music – Arcade Fire’s Wake Up – is pretty powerful. It’s caused Paloma to get a bit teary and it’s affected me, too. Based on the online chatter, it seems we’re not alone in our reaction.

Maybe it’s the vibe of those clips and the palpable undercurrent of childhood lost that resonates so much. Maybe it taps into some desire to sail away to a land of fantastic creatures.

Maybe it’s the fact that we’re part of a generation who were children when the book was just beginning to be recognized as a classic and – for many of us – the book is among our earliest memories.

There were numerous trips to the library as a very small child that ended with me poring over those pages, utterly mesmerized by the iconic artwork and spellbound by Max’ adventure.

Quite simply, I find myself invested in this movie like few I’ve known in my lifetime. It’s one of those situations where I find myself so hoping that it will brilliant and instill in me the same sense of wonder and awe that the book did when I was four.

I’m aware that I might be creating unrealistic expectations, but, based on what I’ve seen so far, I’m thinking that director Spike Jonze just might pull it off.

If so, I can’t wait for the rumpus to begin.

Arcade Fire – Wake Up
from Funeral

Arcade Fire – Wake Up
from Where The Wild Things Are trailer

There’s been a lot of hulabaloo over Arcade Fire for some time, but I was left underwhelmed at the few songs I had heard. Not Wake Up, though. Maybe it’s because it is now and forever connected to me through its use in the movie’s trailer.

Its use in the trailer is inspired (I’d say perfect), fusing together poignantly with the visuals and snatches of dialogue.

There’s something about the dynamics of the song that remind me of Smashing Pumpkins and, like the Pumpkins, the song has an epic scope. It’s towering and majestic and sounds as if it was written specifically for the movie.

So Long, Little Friend

Like most people, I would prefer the days to unfold like the colorful pages of a Dr. Seuss book, populated by the playful antics of furry, non-existent creatures and lots of nonsensical rhyming.

OK, maybe that’s just me.

Unfortunately, there’s a lot of reality to real life and it’s not always easy or pleasant.

I’ve known Paloma for nearly twenty years and, for most of that time, I’ve known Coltrane. She had found Coltrane in a garbage dumpster, a tiny ball of black fur that someone had left for dead.

Coltrane had found someone who would give her a home.

I’ve stated before that I am a dog person, but when Paloma and I became a couple and, later, when we moved in together, I made an effort to embrace the felines that came with her.

I didn’t understand them.

They wouldn’t curl up and watch sports with me like my dog had. They certainly wouldn’t fetch. I had no idea what was on their minds.

‘trane was, perhaps, the most inscrutable to me. She was calm, contented, and a mystery. Buddhist monks would have envied her zen-like state. Sometimes she would give me a gentle head butt.

Though she was old, she was healthy. She moved at a leisurely pace, but she retained remarkable agility.

Over the past year or so, Paloma would, on occasion, comment that she was trying to emotionally prepare herself for the day when Coltrane’s long life would reach its conclusion. I dreaded the idea because I knew how hard that day would be for her.

Then, about six months or so ago, I was writing one evening. Paloma had gone to bed. Coltrane quietly ambled into the living room. I knew what she wanted and scooped her into my arms.

In the kitchen, I doled a portion of one of her favorites into her dish. As she ate, I filled a tumbler full of cold water from the fridge and took it back to the living room.

Several minutes later, ‘trane climbed onto the coffee table and drank from the glass of water. As I rubbed her head, it struck me that the two of us shared numerous daily rituals including this one.

It was that evening that I realized that somehow, perhaps when I wasn’t thinking about it, Coltrane and I had developed a bond. I also realized that the day that I had dreaded for Paloma was now one that I was dreading for myself as well.

Last Thursday, I arrived home to find Paloma tending to Coltrane. The small animal was struggling in her efforts to do the smallest of tasks, tasks that a day earlier she could do slowly but with little trouble or pain.

The spirit was still there – the abiding sweetness – but her small body was failing her.

On Friday morning, Paloma made the difficult but compassionate decision to let Coltrane go. She did so with no hesitation and knowing that it was the one, final act of kindness she could offer ‘trane.

And though it was hard, and though she’ll be missed, it was a peaceful end to a good, long life.

Mark Knopfler – Going Home (Theme Of The Local Hero)
from Local Hero soundtrack

I considered posting some music by Coltrane’s namesake, but one song kept coming into my head the past few days – the closing song from Dire Straits’ guitarist Mark Knopfler’s soundtrack to the movie Local Hero. Much like ‘trane, the movie is low-key, quirky and sweet with a charm that sneaks up on you and is hard to shake.

As for the song, there’s a touch of sadness, but that quickly gives way to a determined melody and concludes with an anthemic, almost joyous close that leaves you feeling that everything’s going to be alright.

Coming Soon To A Record Store Near You (Or Not)

In a previous life, I did a bit of freelance music journalism. For the past several years, I’ve been engaged in far more lucrative albeit soul-sucking work.

That made it such a surprise when I received a message on Monday.

“Yeah, we’re looking for someone to write some liner notes for The Motels.”

It’s been five years since I’ve had an assignment. I leave the house for my grown-up gig at 6:30 in the morning and don’t return for eleven hours. I’m old and I do need eight hours of sleep.

And this label wanted it in forty-eight hours – “two and a half, three panels” on Martha Davis and company.

“Uh, how many words?”

True, they were used to being able to tell someone “two and a half, three panels” and having them know what that meant, so the question seemed to make them wary of my skills. As I explained, though, I’ve written reviews, bio, and done some interviews, but never liner notes.

I figured what the hell. I was a fan of the band and Paloma and I do own all of their records on vinyl.

It was hardly the most ideal timeframe or conditions to work, but I did manage to hammer out something in two days. Of course, with the time, I would have wanted to speak with some of the principals, but…

It’s done. It’s doesn’t reinvent rock writing, but I’m reasonably sure nothing is misspelled.

And, it might even end up making its way into print.

(of course, who knows in what altered form)

But, The Motels were an underappreciated band. So, here are a few songs that aren’t Only The Lonely or Suddenly Last Summer…

The Motels – Celia
from The Motels

The Motels – Bonjour Baby
from Careful

The Motels – Forever Mine
from All Four One

The Motels – Annie Told Me
from Shock

King Kong, Hippie Empowerment And The Towers

Happening across the movie King Kong on cable the other night, something occurred to me – it might have been the most influential movie of my childhood.

I’d seen the original version watching it on the late, late show when I slept over at a friend’s house in second grade. Not long after, the hype began for the remake.

It was nothing compared to the hullabaloo for some movies now – no cable, no internet – but it seemed to begin a year before and the scope and duration was something I’d never seen at the ripe old age of eight.

I vividly recall a poster in our small-town theater of Kong, astride the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center with a Santa Claus hat perched on his noggin’. The tagline read “Guess who’s coming for Christmas?”

I knew that it would be months after the national release before it would arrive in our town. That poster should have shown him wearing a leprechaun’s hat and clutching a bottle of Guinness.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to learn a lesson in patience. My dad was kind enough to drive me and several friends into the city to see the movie during our Christmas break.

I did learn a lot of other things. I learned that oil company board rooms were populated by the ruthless, the kind of men who might twirl their moustaches as a train headed down tracks to which a distressed damsel was detained.

Of course, Charles Grodin as a petroleum executive had far more panache than the corporate officers I know. They burp up banalities like “sweet spot,” “drill down,” and “bring to bear.”

Grodin uttered things like “If that island doesn’t produce huge, I’ll be wiping windshields,” “Sweet Jesus! Dear Rockefeller!” and “It’s some nutty religion – a priest gets dressed up like an ape and gets laid.”

(you don’t get such rich fare in a business meeting)

The lush island scenery and the underlying message of the movie certainly made me receptive to an environmental consciousness in a way that a Native American crying over litter in a television commercial couldn’t.

As much as Christopher Cross, viewing King Kong likely fueled in me the desire to travel. I haven’t been to Indonesia – from where Grodin and company began their voyage – but I have been to Borneo and, in Malaysia, some friends and I scaled hundreds of steps, monkeys roaming about us, to reach some cave.

Jessica Lange was fetching enough as Dwan, but blondes have never held me as entranced as they apparently do most males of the species.

(although I have been known to be drawn to vacuous girls with unusual names and a flair for the dramatic, so she must have made some impression)

King Kong was also the first movie I think I ever saw with Jeff Bridges whom I’d argue might be the most underrated actor of his generation.

Not only was Bridges the dashing man of action in the flick, he was a hippie.

(of course, at eight, any guy with long hair was a hippie to me)

It was Bridges, as a long-haired paleontologist from Princeton, who taught me that a guy with long hair could grow up to be a paleontologist from Princeton, able to tangle with large apes and woo Jessica Lange.

Years later, in my twenties and en route to London, I first visited New York City and saw the Twin Towers.

I’ve seen some things in my time.

I’ve been to Bangkok.

There are few things that have left me as jaw-droopingly stupefied as standing in front of those buildings. For me, it inspired the same sense of wonder as seeing King Kong in the theater as a kid.

It was during the first few days of 1977 that I saw King Kong. I hadn’t discovered music, yet, but there was a lot of music on Billboard’s chart in early January of that year that would someday be quite familiar to me…

Elton John – Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word
from Blue Moves

I can’t claim to have intimate knowledge of Elton John’s entire catalog as it does encompass four decades. I do know his extensive string of hits and I own a number of the classic albums, though, and I’d have to choose the wistful Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word as my favorite of his ballads.

Boston – More Than A Feeling
from Boston

For some reason, even though it was apparently a hit in the winter months, I think of More Than A Feeling as a summer song. Although I’m not rabid about the song, it does conjure up a good vibe for me and I’ve never quite understood the venom reserved for Boston.

Also, I find it amusing that Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit echoes the song.

Manfred Mann’s Earth Band – Blinded By The Light
from The Roaring Silence

When I saw Blinded By The Light on the chart, I realized something – this song was likely my first exposure to Bruce Springsteen’s music.

10cc – The Things We Do For Love
from Deceptive Bends

Since Paloma and I started collecting vinyl a little over a year ago, we’ve snagged several 10cc albums and they’ve been a revelation of musicianship, craftsmanship and quirkiness.

The Things We Do For Love is a breezy and flawless pop song.

…here

I’ve been hesitant to actually make this move as I’m so used to how things work at my former residence. However, Half Hearted Dude touted the ease of WordPress and, knock on silicon, so far, so good.

A quartet of tracks in motion…

The Cars – Moving In Stereo
from The Cars

Paloma mentioned her affection for The Cars the other day. She also declared her feelings that they haven’t gotten as much due as they should.

I think I’d agree that maybe they haven’t gotten as much hoopla as some bands of their era. If you were listening to radio in the late ’70s/early ’80s – especially during the summer of ’84 – you certainly knew their songs.

Primal Scream – Movin’ On Up
from Screamadelica

There are a handful of songs that never fail to make me smile. Movin’ On Up is one of them.

k.d. lang – Just Keep Me Moving
from Even Cowgirls Get The Blues soundtrack

Even Cowgirls Get The Blues always seemed to get the most attention, but, when it comes to the works of Tom Robbins – from whose Half Asleep In Frog Pajamas we adopted our name – I much prefer Skinny Legs And All and Jitterbug Perfume.

Anyhow, Just Keep Me Moving was a nice contribution by k.d. lang to the soundtrack.

Neneh Cherry – Move With Me (Dub)
from Until The End Of The World soundtrack

One of the best assembled movie soundtracks of the ’90s was the one for Wim Wenders’ Until The End Of The World. In fact, it was the lure of a new Peter Gabriel song that prompted a roommate and I to catch the movie in the theater (putting us in the company of a select few).

The hypnotic simmer of Move With Me is likely to surprise folks who only know Ms. Cherry from her 1989 hit Buffalo Stance.

A Toast To Whiteray

Some time ago, I mentioned Roxy Music to a couple of co-workers, both older than me, one of them having spent ten years in the music industry.

That remark was met with a blank stare.

After spending ten minutes giving a rough history of the band, offering examples of their influence, and explaining their place in rock music, I realized my audience was unimpressed.

(with both Roxy Music and me)

There was a time when pretty much everyone in my orbit would have known of Roxy Music – whether they were fans or not. During my vagabond days working in record stores, the mention of Roxy Music would have prompted one friend to interject Brian Eno into the conversation.

The Drunken Frenchman would have regaled us with some tale – some more obscure than others – about Roxy Music, Brian Eno, or whatever artist that was the subject of debate and/or discussion.

(the experience of listening to rock and roll lore as told by The Frenchman was akin to what I imagine it to be like listening to an old mariner telling tales from the briny deep)

Sometimes passions flared, but it was a collective passion for music that was ever present.

Now, the deepest discussion I hear from co-workers about music revolves around some kid on American Idol performing Hallelujah with no knowledge of Leonard Cohen, who wrote the song, or Jeff Buckley, who put his indelible stamp on it.

It’s made the numerous blogs focused on music – and a wide variety of music – such a wonderful surrogate for a time when hour upon hour would be dedicated to similar banter among friends.

Which is why it’s disappointing to read that Whiteray, author of the wonderful Echoes In The Wind, is on, what I hope, will be a brief hiatus.

Like JB over at The Hits Just Keep Comin’ (as well as the other destinations to which I’ve provided links on your right), Whiteray has a knack for chronicling the music that has meant so much to him, doing so in a manner that is engaging, amusing, and informative.

It isn’t even necessarily the music about which he wrote that made me a faithful reader. Though the music sometimes doesn’t connect with me, his affection and enthusiasm for his subject matter is like listening to one of my friends from back in the day.

So, here’s hoping to read something from you soon, Whiteray. Morning coffee won’t be the same without you.

Here are some songs that were on Billboard’s chart this week in 1982, a time when my own love of music was taking root…

The Go-Go’s – Vacation
from Vacation

The title song for The Go-Go’s follow-up to their massive debut Beauty And The Beat is giddy beyond repair (even if it does detail the end of summer). Fittingly, the first time I heard it was blaring from the car radio on a family vacation.

Years later, I’d interview Go-Go guitarist Jane Weidlin which was a true highlight of my music journalism endeavors (such as they were).

Elton John – Blue Eyes
from Jump Up!

Sir Elton’s output post-’70s has been a bit erratic. Of course, how could anyone have been expected to match the heights he did during his heyday?

I don’t think I cared for Blue Eyes at the time, but, nearly three decades later, I never tire of hearing John croon this simple, uncluttered ballad.

Jackson Browne – Somebody’s Baby
from Fast Times At Ridgemont High soundtrack

Fast Times At Ridgemont High was the movie for me and my friends in 1982 and was endlessly quoted. It also provided Jackson Browne with a song that was always on the radio late that summer.

Eddie Money – Think I’m In Love
from No Control

Eddie Money never aspired to reinvent fire. Instead, you knew that he was going to offer up straight-ahead, no-frills rock and roll, but, when he nailed it, he nailed it.

Few songs sounded better on the radio during the late summer of ’82 than Think I’m In Love

Even Rock Stars Need A Hug Sometimes

It surely doesn’t suck to be a rock star.

You get to travel to exotic locales, demand waffles at any hour, and stay up as late as you want, as often as you want.

You also get a helicopter.

Having had the chance to meet or speak with some successful musicians, it’s still an abstraction to me to think of them dealing with the things – trivial or not – that we mere mortals must.

But even successful musicians, obviously, do have friction in their lives.

In 2002, I had the opportunity to interview Louie Perez of Los Lobos, coinciding with the band’s then new album Good Morning Aztlan. It was the perennially critically-acclaimed act’s third straight album on a different label.

Mammoth Records, which was issuing the release, would fold a couple years later.

Los Lobos had fifteen years separating them from their brief period of mainstream success with the music from the bio-pic La Bamba.

Since their last album, three years earlier, band member Cesar Rosas’ wife had been abducted and murdered.

As I interviewed Perez, he was courteous and pleasant, giving well-considered answers, but something seemed not quite right. I think I flat out asked him if he was OK.

He noted some of the adversity that the band had endured.

He sounded worn.

“But you’re in Los Lobos, man.”

(I think I actually said “man”)

“How cool is that?”

“Yeah, it is pretty cool,” he agreed, seeming to be re-energized at the thought.

It’s not every day you get to cheer up an integral part of a truly great band.

Impossible to pigeon-hole, here are a handful of songs that hardly scratch the surface of the breadth of Los Lobos’ catalog…

Los Lobos – Will The Wolf Survive
from How Will The Wolf Survive?

I remember knowing of Los Lobos through the glowing reviews when How Will The Wolf Survive? was released in 1984. And I remember hearing Will The Wolf Survive on Q95, an album-rock station which was among my staples at the time.

I didn’t get it.

(some years later, I would finally catch up)

Los Lobos – <em>Kiko And The Lavender Moon
from Kiko

Children of immigrants, Los Lobos cut their teeth, in the words of All Music Guide, “playing parties, wedding receptions, restaurants, bars, and anyplace else where someone might pay them for a gig” for a decade before finding success.

Drawing on the music of their Latino heritage, the band incorporated traditional folk, country, R&B, and rock into the mix with virtuoso musicianship.

In 1992, Los Lobos released Kiko, their collaboration with noted producer Mitchell Froom, and proved that they could do experimental rock as well as any of the modern rock bands of the period.

Los Lobos – Tony Y Maria
from Good Morning Aztlan

Before the grown-ups crashed the economy, the humans were hopping mad over illegal immigrants. Of course, there would be no work for illegal immigrants if the CEOs of companies hiring them would be held accountable, but that won’t happen.

(now, of course, there’s no work for anyone, so we’re on our way to solving the illegal immigrant issue)

The lovely Tony Y Maria details the struggle of those illegal immigrants on a micro level and if you’re not moved by the song, you’re probably one of the multi-millionaire CEOs whose company exploits the cheap supply of labor from South of the border.

Los Lobos – The Word
from Good Morning Aztlan

Good Morning Aztlan found Los Lobos working with producer John Leckie, known for his work with bands like XTC, Radiohead, and Stone Roses. Not that the soulful The Word would remind a listener of any of those bands.

Instead, The Word simmers and soars, conjuring up the spirit of the socially conscious music of Marvin Gaye and Curtis Mayfield in the ’70s.

It’s intoxicating, thought-provoking, and altogether glorious.