memorized breaths

catching up with the grammys, pt. 1

So the nominations for the Grammy Awards were announced today. Who cares, right? The Grammys, for as long as I can remember, have awarded respectable mediocrity and their choices regarding the best representatives for the past year in music have always been good for a derisive laugh and immediate dismissal. Case in point: Paul McCartney is nominated for "I Saw Her Standing There." That is some bullshit, for real. And no Miranda Lambert nomination in even the country categories is appalling, especially considering the barnstorming success that "Gunpowder and Lead" had in Nashville, who have held Lambert at arms' length for a while now.

Considering the main narrative of the past few years has been the death of the music industry, it's almost poetic that NARAS manages to reward talent that means almost nothing to the larger culture. I mean, Sheryl Crow has like 72 of these things, and when was the last time anyone talked about Sheryl Crow? (FYI: Sheryl Crow is nominated this year. Raise your hand if you knew she even put out a record. That's what I thought.)

Scanning the nominations today, I realized I hadn't heard of a great bulk of them. Even in recent years, when my exposure to the modern mainstream culture of music has been basically nil (not having a TV and only using the radio to listen to ballgames), I would at least have heard of most of the songs/albums/people/releases. This year? Take a look at the always-hilarious "Best Alternative Album" category and tell me that you knew that Beck, My Morning Jacket, Death Cab For Cutie, and Gnarls Barkley had records out this year. (This category should basically just be called the Radiohead/White Stripes Dick-Suck.) I have no clue who 4/5ths of the Best New Artist nominees are, and while I know the Jonas Brothers (WHO DOESN'T?!) I would not be able to pick out a song of theirs to save my life. When you have three "cute" (?) boys catering to tweens, isn't the music basically redundant?

So I've decided--for how long I can bear it--to catch up with certain categories whose nominees have left me befuddled by who/what the fuck the artist/song is. First up is the biggest category that isn't Album of the Year (excuse me but I will not be subjecting myself to whole albums, partly because they're not YouTube-able and partly because OHMYGODAREYOUSERIOUS): Record of the Year.

"Chasing Pavements" - Adele
I have no idea who Adele is. At first I thought it was Estelle, who did "American Boy," one of my favorite singles of the past year. I wish that had been nominated. Adele sounds like some kind of syrupy nu-soul Billie Holiday but way more annoyingly tic-y with her vocals. Like Amy Winehouse. "Chasing pavements" is a terrible poetic image that makes no sense, really. Holy shit, this is a white girl? Is she British too? What's with British girls being fucking annoying singers?

"Viva La Vida" - Coldplay
Okay yes I've heard of Coldplay, and I knew they released a record, but I hadn't actually heard this song. "I used to rule the world," Chris Martin starts, and automatically I fucking hate this song and would like to punch this guy in the face. Oh my fucking God, this video is even worse. So he's both Jesus and King Whatever and on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel? Otherwise, the melody and orchestral bombast is basically what people love(d?) the fucking Arcade Fire for, and this is way better-sounding than anything those kids could turn out at least.

"Bleeding Love" - Leona Lewis
This one I know, as this shit was in every bodega and deli and bank and taxi everywhere in the world at the exact same time forever and ever amen la vida. I don't really know why the world needs another girl who sounds like Mariah Carey. The chorus is pretty great until you realize it's the same thing over and over again and, oddly, is underplayed production-wise and vocally. You expect it to really soar and it just lies there sounding pretty rote for a "profound" statement that ickily and clumsily tries to combine the corporeal with desire. David Wojnarowicz she is not. This song is really depressing for some kind of devotion of love or whatever the hell it was portrayed as. It just plods along getting more boring as it continues. Why have all these songs been so dour?

"Paper Planes" - MIA
This is the other one I know, because this was also everywhere, thanks to its inclusion in that stoner movie with James Franco whose name I can't recall right now. MIA is someone I theoretically think I should love, like she's the new Bikini Kill or something. She is also as vocally and polemically irritating as Kathleen Hanna and Tobi Vail. But the song is fun and catchy and has a great beat (all thanks to the Clash, of course). This song also gets points for inspiring one of my favorite news stories of the year.

"Please Read The Letter" - Robert Plant and Allison Krauss
I had no idea this existed, and if you had told me that these two would form a duo, I would have been all o_O at you. This song is pretty EPIC in its quietness, which only makes the drums sound even more lovely, in that atmospheric thundery way that Daniel Lanois does so well. This honestly could be a song off of Emmylou Harris' Wrecking Ball. A check of the production credits shows that T Bone Burnett produced this, which sounds about right. And Plant and Krauss, two singers whom I have previously had no real knowledge of or even the slightest desire to listen to, sound fantastic together. I take it back: this is like a Low song, up until the slight rollicking (more brook than river) of the coda. I am now very intrigued in listening to their album. An album I didn't even know about before today.

In order of preference: Plant/Krauss, MIA, Coldplay, Adele, Lewis

In order of likelihood of winning: Coldplay, Lewis, MIA, Plant/Krauss (fogey vote will probably help in Album of the Year), Adele (I mean I can't even remember how that song went anymore)

12/04/2008 at 03:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

i'm not there

Todd Haynes' 2007 film I'm Not There, about the "many lives" of Bob Dylan, seemed like it was engineered specifically for me, someone who has adored and idolized both Haynes and Dylan for a vast portion of his life. If the Beatles' "In My Life" was the first song to ever make me cry, as a 7 or 8 year-old (and, uh, that was because of an episode of Family Ties, in which MEREDITH FUCKIN' BAXTER BIRNEY sings it, seriously), then Blonde on Blonde was the first one to alter my conceptions of what pop music could be, what with its hallucinogenic poetry and sprawling epics. If "In My Life" was the emotional instigator, the seed of what music could mean, then "Visions of Johanna" was, oh, the actual blossoming, the possibilities. Fun fact: as a moody teenager one of my favorite things to do was get stoned (shocking, I know) and play two songs over and over on my parents' turntable: "Visions of Johanna" and Fleetwood Mac's "Sara," thinking I could drown in those sounds, be enveloped by the words and the music's warmth.

I am some goddam hippie at heart.

As for Haynes, you could say that when I first saw Safe (probably around 1996 or 1997), the ambiguity it created in me as a viewer was terrifying and liberating. At first I thought it was a parody. Then I thought it was stilted. Then I thought it was horrific and frightening. By the end, staring at Julianne Moore's shrunken, enfeebled, alien head staring back at me as she stares in the mirror, urging herself--trying to convince herself, and maybe us--of love, accompanied by that sickening static hum, well...there was an overwhelming sadness I couldn't, and still to this day--after dozens of viewings--cannot quite pinpoint. I've seen all of Haynes' films by now (save Assassins and Dottie Gets Spanked), and though each one is exciting and new and more original and thoughtful than any other American filmmaker's, I feel as if he (and to certain extent, Moore) will never top Safe.

Let's look back at the cinema in 2007: there may have been flashier viscera like There Will Be Blood or Serious Meditative Craft like No Country for Old Men, more affecting moments like Catherine Keener crying behind sunglasses and the entirety of Hal Holbrook in Into The Wild. More whimsical delight in Ratatouille. But there was nothing like I'm Not There, not close. Not the widespread ambition of its narrative and technique--did the ambition grasp for more than was capable? Sure. But I as a viewer was excited by the mere fact that it attempted to do it, let alone all the actual tangible pleasures it finally was able to provide: the visual references to Dylanology, "Stuck Inside of Mobile" during the opening credits, Julianne Moore doing a perfect Joan Baez, the way it reminded me of Godard (visually of course, but also the sheer verve and excitement of its artistry), plus more.

I saw the film twice in theatres with the intention of writing about it on this here blog, except this is a site that deals not with cinema but with music, half-assed as it may be. I thought I could get around the self-imposed criteria being that this is a film "about" an icon (maybe the icon) of American popular music, and its use of music being intrinsic to the narrative. But at the end of the day, I found myself too full of Dylan and Haynes--too exhausted of/by them--to even come close to doing either one justice.

I recently, for some reason, have gone through a Dylan binge, though not really listening to the Big Albums--the ones I obsessed over as a youth, the ones everyone knows--aside from cursory spins. Those albums now seem big and vast, as immune to criticism as the Rocky Mountains. Instead I've been delving into the lesser-known, more "minor" periods of Dylan, albums like Planet Waves or New Morning or Slow Train Coming or even his recent ones, which I hadn't listened to at all. He's the gift that keeps on giving. Much like Haynes, whose Safe I rewatched while in the midst of this ongoing Dylanfest. So of course I had to buy I'm Not There and watch it, as a logical endpoint. I watched I'm Not There again and more than anything else, I was grabbed and/or repulsed by the music; not Dylan's music, mind, but the covers of it on the soundtrack, the ones by the hep-and-hap'nin indie rock elite as well as a few old fogies. What struck me when listening to these songs the first time around was how difficult it is to actually cover Dylan. This may be an unpopular opinion, but I think no one can really sing his songs except him. He sounds too right with his own words, and the voices of others don't really fit. Not the Byrds, not Nico, not Peter Paul and Mary, not nobody. He may not have a great voice, but Dylan is in fact a phenomenal singer. "Idiot Wind" is an incredible vocal, one that many singers with great voices can't match.

So I thought: how about I listen to this damn thing and record my thoughts for this here unread blog? Yes, I thought, that would be fun. Here goes (let's see how long it takes before I lose my mind and get silly):

"All Along The Watchtower" - Eddie Vedder and the Million Dollar Bashers
The Million Dollar Bashers are the backing band for many of these tracks, lead by Sonic Youth's Lee Ranaldo and Steve Shelley. Of course that is Pearl Jam's Eddie Vedder providing the vocal. Alternative rock explosion! Though the kids who liked Pearl Jam weren't the same kids who liked Sonic Youth, at least when I was growing up. I confess I cared about neither, so this pairing means nothing to me aside from curious novelty. This almost seems unnecessary considering we have Jimi Hendrix's definitive version. Though Vedder's growl has grown more palatable to me as he's aged, and his surprisingly effective work on the Into The Wild soundtrack (boy was he busy with film work last year!) bears this out. This version appears in the film during a scene where Heath Ledger returns home to Charlotte Gainsbourg as the Vietnam War is escalating, mirroring their marriage's collapse, and its chaos is effective within that context. Not especially effective as a cover.

"I'm Not There" - Sonic Youth
I don't give a shit about Sonic Youth, save for a few songs. Funny how this version of Dylan's long-unavailable song seems like their cover of "Superstar," langorous and slightly disaffected delivery by Thurston Moore, though he seems more devotional to Dylan than he was to Karen Carpenter. Hurr hurr irony, etc. Kim Gordon also makes a cameo in I'm Not There, spouting pretentious folkie bullshit that wouldn't seem out of place on one of her ridiculous spoken word rants.

"Goin' To Acapulco" Jim James and Calexico
Jim James of My Morning Jacket, which is a band I've never listened to, and Calexico, who are a pretty great backing band (see: their work with Neko Case) though I could take or leave their actual official output. James sounds vaguely Kermit-y, but this is my favorite of all the covers on this soundtrack. Part of it is how it appeared in the film: James in Rolling Thunder whiteface and the Calexico boys in old-timey marching band outfits, performing this funereal dirge at the most perplexing moment of the film: the Richard Gere section befuddled everyone, including myself, until the second time I saw the film, and realized that this performance held the tonal key for his entire section, that overwhelming sense of loss and decay and the laconic mournfulness that accompanies it. James' wails are incredibly beautiful, accompanied by the horns; I feel gut-punched by him, and he makes me think I should actually listen to My Morning Jacket, which I'd never once thought a possibility before. Phenomenal version.

"Tombstone Blues" - Richie Havens
One of the fogies, a peer of Baez and Dylan and the rest of the Greenwich Village cohort. This appears in a modified form in the film; Havens does a duet with the first Dylan we see, played by young Marcus Carl Franklin, who pretty much mugs his way through it (he is pretty remarkable every other time). At first it seems like a pretty serviceable cover, though Havens is blessed with a whiskey-smooth voice, and the arrangement makes you wonder what the big deal was when the folkies were up-in-arms over Dylan going electric: this is an exceptional folk song. The backing vocals and drums that pop up here and there are a nice touch.

"Ballad of a Thin Man" - Stephen Malkmus and the Million Dollar Bashers
I was very anti-Pavement as a teenager before friends forced me to come around to Slanted and Enchanted. I never quite warmed up to the rest of their output, though they have some great songs in their catalog. This version appears in the film as a Cate Blanchett lip-synch. It starts off fine, but I remember being incredibly put-off by it as it continued, and all of it has to do with Malkmus as a vocalist. He's not a capable singer. This song is incredible, full of rage and disgust and sneering mocking contempt, none of which are qualities that Malkmus can summon. He is an artist who has made his career out of being ironic and cutesy and glib. There's humor here too, and he is unable to project it. "You've read all of F. Scott Fitzgerald's books/You're very well-read, it's well-known" is hilarious when Dylan sings it, and Malkmus throws it away. The homoerotic section is ruined somehow when Malkmus sings "Here is your mouth back, thanks for the loan," when Dylan's mot juste was "throat." "Throat" seems much more powerful than "mouth," but perhaps it's apt in this version, as the throat is where the bile and the voice get conjured, get rumbling and ready to spew; it's internal while the mouth is the thing you see. Dylan is internal then, and Malkmus is merely cosmetic. I decide I was right: Pavement was bullshit.

"Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again" - Cat Power
Chan Marshall is totally channeling Dylan here. She's aping Dylan's vocalization as much as Blanchett. Her backing band is having a grand old time, and so is Marshall; they sound loose and free and fun, probably because they're playing an ACTUAL TUNE. Cat Power only has like five of those. If this isn't an especially great cover, it's a great Cat Power performance because it provides Marshall with a frame to perform in, and she has a blast with it. If only she sounded like this more. I'll say I like the backing vocals, and the horns are great. Really, her band steals this, provides the oomph and magic, though considering the source material it's fish in a barrel. The over-enunciation of "Oh, mama" ("Ohhhhhhh, MUH.MAW!") is a touching tribute to her idol, if a bit cloying. The end's crescendo (heh, when she isn't singing) is absolutely vibrant.

"Pressing On" - John Doe
This is my second favorite cover that appears in the film, following "Acapulco." Perhaps I'm so attached to both and imbue it with greater meaning precisely because of how tonally important they are in the context of the film; it's a glorious end to the Christian Bale Christian Dylan, voiced by X's John Doe. Who knew John Doe could sing gospel? NOBODY, that's who.

"Fourth Time Around" - Yo La Tengo
With Georgia singing. This wouldn't sound out-of-place on And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out. Except it sounds more somnolent. Wake up, Georgia! She sounds utterly disinterested. This may have been a mistake, considering Malkmus' folly: getting these pinnacles of Hip Cool Disaffected Ironic 90s Indie Rock to do Dylan, who could be many of those things, certainly, but seemed somehow to Care. "I presume you must care somewhat about the words you sing." "HOW CAN YOU ASK ME SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!" Even in his gentlest songs, like this one, he was a ball of energy; this entire performance sounds like a yawn.

"Dark Eyes" - Iron & Wine and Calexico
Calexico backed Iron & Wine on an EP previous to this. Sam Beam sounded vaguely awake for that. Here he sounds like he's more concerned with his beard.

"Highway 61 Revisted" Karen O and the Million Dollar Bashers
When I first saw this on the tracklisting, I snarked to a friend "Oh, I bet it sounds NOTHING like PJ Harvey's version." Wahwah. Seriously though, that woman wouldn't have a career if it weren't for Harvey laying down the template for yowling arty girl rockers. At first it sounds more like the Dylan version, all sing-talky (these singers CANNOT successfully ape that), but then these frantic background voices are straight out of Harvey's version. I don't know what Karen O is doing here; it sounds more like "Car Wreck on Highway 61." Lolz!

"One More Cup of Coffee" - Roger McGuinn and Calexico
Ha, this is so not jingle-jangle morning. I've never been crazy about this song, and I would like to know who that is pretending to be Emmylou Harris. McGuinn's voice is a little too quavery to sell the portent that exists in the song, though Calexico do a bang-up job with their Southwest stylin'.

"The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll" - Mason Jennings
This appears when Christian Bale's Dylan is still a "finger-pointin'" songwriter, singing in the middle of a field surrounded by black farmworkers, a tremendous visual dramatization of actual footage (though I've only ever seen footage of Dylan playing "Only a Pawn In Their Game" during this moment). This is a fine example of Dylan's finger-pointing songs, but this version lacks any bite. I have no idea who Mason Jennings is. Is he famous?

"Billy 1" - Los Lobos
Oh hey young'uns, THIS is how you do it. After the resounding "meh" of the last few songs, this is an absolute joy, vibrant and swinging, enough to make you want to get up and twirl a señorita around a packed dancefloor.

"Simple Twist of Fate" - Jeff Tweedy
I kind of wonder if Tweedy became the problem with Wilco, and not Jay Bennett. I haven't listened to Wilco since 2002. Has Tweedy really become this croaky and whiny in the past few years?

"Man in the Long Black Coat" - Mark Lanegan
What a perfect song for Lanegan, what with his devilish weariness. Considering the few things I've heard come out of his mouth, I have a total crush on Lanegan. The raggedness of his voice conjures the same thing to me as Tom Waits. Speaking of, listening to Dylan the past few weeks has made me realize that Tom Waits (an artist I adore immensely) seems like some kind of fraud or poseur in comparison. Which really speaks to how great a songwriter Dylan is. Fun fact: another good version of this song appears on the same Joan Osborne record that contains that "One of Us" song. For real, it's good! Poor Joan Osborne, a great vocalist so misrepresented by a world-beating hit that people despise. I don't know, that song is pretty funny to me. But that's a topic for another long-delayed post (re: mom-rock).

"Señor (Tales of Yankee Power)" - Willie Nelson and Calexico
Before my Dylan binge, I had a Willie Nelson binge. I could listen to Willie Nelson forever. Apologies for the lack of objectivity. Calexico is a really great backing band, and when they've got a charismatic vocalist like Nelson or Neko Case--or, apparently, Jim James!--the results are pretty spellbinding. Oh my God, who is this Mexican bolero singer?! THIS SONG RULES. (previous to Dylan and Nelson binges, amongst other binges I got really into Mexican boleros).

"As I Went Out One Morning" - Mira Billotte
Apparently Billotte is a singer for the Brooklyn band White Magic, and she was also in Quix*o*tic with her sister Christina, of Slant 6. None of those names mean ANYTHING to me, except that in college I knew girls with bangs. Oh okay, Slant 6 was on Dischord, and Christina was also in Autoclave with Mary Timony. They had a good song on that Dischord boxset. I don't remember Slant 6 on that set.

"Can't Leave Her Behind" Stephen Malkmus and Lee Ranaldo
Malkmus is better this time around. It's a sweet little song and performance.

"Ring Them Bells" - Sufjan Stevens
I bet this will be orchestral. Oh horns! The backing vocals are so precious already. The glockenspiel player came to the beautiful apartment I once shared with my ex-boyfriend. Recently I saw that the apartment was on sale for $1.6 million dollars! Ex-boyfriend was moving and giving his amazing things away (I didn't get anything because I didn't want them, stupid me) and she got a bunch of fantastic cookware. Like fancypants Creuset shit. Ugh, I'm so stupid. An old coworker of mine from San Diego is also signed to Sufjan's label. At times, this song is like mainlining Pixie Stix on Xmas. You're sitting near the tree and opening presents and then it's like, "Oh, a sweater." And then you do more Pixie Stix. God, why is this so long?! ZOMG, A TONKA TRUCK! Oh, socks. Coming down.

"Just Like A Woman" - Charlotte Gainsbourg and Calexico
For a while, this song was ruined for me by Shelly Duval's hilarious recitation of the chorus in Annie Hall. Then a version done by Nina Simone brought it back up to its estimable position. Is Gainsbourg supposed to be a singer? She whispers this whole thing like her mother on "Je t'aime...moi non plus" except minus any sexual charge or energy. Oof, this is mildly embarrassing. I will say that I found her pretty devastating in the movie.

"Mama You've Been On My Mind" - Jack Johnson
Ugh, not this asshole. All I know about this guy is he played whatever those festivals are that you get in college; ours was called Sun God, because there was this huge ridiculous statue of a Sun God on campus. The thing looked like a gay parrot. So Jack Johnson played this festival and across campus I got wasted with some friends who LOVED HIM SO MUCH. Because we were merely freshmen. Lots of strong drinks that were some combination of fruit drink/vodka/tequila/rum. Then we got stoned. Then we walked way the hell across campus to go see Jack Johnson, except on the way we passed my dorm and I decided I didn't give a shit about Jack Johnson, whoever that was, and I slept for about 15 hours. This isn't so bad, actually, but OH GOD now it morphs into a bit of "Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie"? And he's like doing some whitefolkdreads Ani DiFranco spoken word incense thing, ugh, go die Jack Johnson.

"I Wanna Be Your Lover" - Yo La Tengo
This is a complete 180 from their previous selection, and Ira sounds really jacked up. But then it kinda just goes nowhere. What the hell happened to Yo La Tengo?

"You Ain't Goin' Nowhere" - Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova
These are the Once people, yes? Oh, this'll be WINSOME. Shock! It is! It's quite lovely, actually. I didn't see that movie. I don't think I want to. They sound sweet and everything, but I don't think I could take 90 minutes of it. I wouldn't want to just have a meal of cotton candy. But they have obvious chemistry and sound fantastic on their harmonies. I can see why people were so won over. Boy, with Vedder on Into The Wild and these guys on Once, I'm Not There was pretty zeitgeist-y with the film soundtrack world in 07.

"Can I Please Crawl Out Your Window?" - The Hold Steady
Theoretically I enjoy the Hold Steady, for being boozy anthemic shlubs. I mean, they even make this song Springsteenian. And I applaud that. But have I made it through any of their albums? No. Fun fact: This summer before I went to visit her, a friend of mine was excited about seeing the Hold Steady at a tiny bar in her town. She then texted me, horrified about the brotastic band and their fans. And then I laughed, and as old Sleater-Kinney fans, we talked about this.

"Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues" - Ramblin' Jack Elliott
Well, what a coup. His twang adds a nice languor to the song, the kind of twang that Dylan would attempt and ape but never really succeed at. This a tremendously relaxed, assured, confident performance and it's lovely. The old guys have it all over the young kids on this soundtrack. I wonder if that's a product of age; I'm sure they all love Dylan, and love these songs, but it might be true what they say: that Dylan gets better as you age. You don't just respond to the energy and passion and sincerity or whathaveyou, like you do when you're young. You see all that and more, respecting the complexities and subtlety of Dylan's songwriting. It's not shocking that the older musicians on this soundtrack have been more successful than the younger ones; the younger ones are maybe too deferential, while the older ones have had more time to really live with these songs, and interpret them better.

"The Wicked Messenger" - The Black Keys
Speaking of the young ones. After seeing this band open for Sleater-Kinney in 2003, I described them to a friend as a more competent and less exciting White Stripes. That's about right.

"Cold Irons Bound" - Tom Verlaine and the Million Dollar Bashers
This song appears in the film to great effect, when Blanchett Dylan is groggy and fucked up and staring at the mirror and there's a spider and what the fuck! But only a snippet of the song appeared in the film, maximizing its effect. This song is actually eleventybillion minutes long. Verlaine's voice is as "bad" as Dylan's, but he's nowhere near as good a singer. Who is? Otis Redding. Fiona Apple. Irma Thomas. Anyway, I don't really care about Television either. I guess I'm not into seminal New York arty rock bands! Though I love the Velvet Underground and 25% of Patti Smith, so figure that. Boy, this one keeps going doesn't it?

"The Times They Are A-Changin'" - Mason Jennings
This is like the same exact thing as his previous selection. Who is this guy and how did he luck out on this gig? Is he cute or something?

"Maggie's Farm" - Stephen Malkmus and the Million Dollar Bashers
Ugh, again?! This is more "You're out of your league, Malk" like "Ballad of a Thin Man" than the "This is quite serviceable" of "Can't Leave Her Behind." There's so much allusion and indictment and UNPACKING in this song and Malkmus is just incapable of conjuring anything but that blithe detached bullshit. It's almost as if he owed Haynes a favor so he stopped by the studio but he's double-parked.

"When The Ship Comes In" - Marcus Carl Franklin
The only Dylan in the film to perform a song. For a young kid (he's about 15 right now), he's got a very full and warm voice, and clearly knows how to use his voice to frame and phrase Dylan's words and particular rhythms for great impact. Congratulations kid, you're already a better singer than Stephen Malkmus. One note: he isn't too successful with melisma.

"Moonshiner" - Bob Forrest
WOW. The guy from Thelonious Monster and The Bicycle Thief. LA adolescence coming back. I actually may prefer this version of the traditional song to Dylan's, which is lovely and desolate and spare, as well as to Cat Power's, which I can't even remember, but it's probably also lovely and desolate and spare while also being dull. Perhaps, again, it is due to age; at the time they each recorded this song, Forrest was older than Dylan and Marshall. Score another one for the olds.

"I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine" - John Doe
This song off of John Wesley Harding is turned into gospel too! It's so odd to say about John Fuckin' Doe, but this style suits him so well I can't even imagine him singing "Johny Hit and Run Paulene." I would pay good money for a John Doe gospel album.

"Knockin' on Heaven's Door" - Antony and the Johnsons
Oh goodness. Okay, Antony. I feel pretty ambivalent about Antony; he is a figure I respect but in practice cannot really take. I can listen to his voice for maybe five minutes before having my fill for the next six months. Which is a shame, as he has a few absolutely stunning songs on I Am A Bird Now (and some duds). He also provides the highlight of all the performances in the Cohen tribute doc I'm Your Man (just over Martha Wainwright, another singer I get full of real quick). But as for this performance, it highlights many of the reasons I am not an active fan, mainly the wispy tremulousness of his voice, a style of singing he hardly wavers (heh) from. A little of it goes a long way.

"I'm Not There" - Bob Dylan
Well, much like that final image of Dylan in I'm Not There--the first and only time he appears--this is the money shot, and the warm fragility of it completely obliterates the Sonic Youth cover. Is there a Dylan song that is improved by having another singer sing it? I suppose barring "All Along The Watchtower" and Hendrix, the answer is no.

10/23/2008 at 02:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBack (0)

i'm the vengeful woman

The archetype of Vengeful Woman in pop music is responsible for a large chunk of my music taste, aged 12 and on. For some reason I feel as if it was during the 90s where this archetype became, if not born, then at least solidified. The sociological reasons and ramifications of which I will not go into in much depth, but suffice it to say, the more lenient social mores of a decade ago allowed greater opportunity for Women Getting Pissed Off and Doing Something About It. Certainly X-Ray Spex wanted to put it up yours, Irma Thomas told you that you weren't gonna hit it, and Chrissie Hynde was perpetually coolly disinterested, but they paved the way rather than gave birth to the myriad forms of Vengeful Woman: Bikini Kill's feminist studies sloganeering, Hole's victimized attacker, PJ Harvey's bloody terrifying psychoses, and Fiona Apple's husky syncopated growls, just to name a few of the ones I've adored. I even like the bland or terrible ones, like "Sunny Came Home" and even Avril Lavigne's assorted misguided teenage bloodlust.

I suppose one of the few things I would criticize about the Vengeful Woman archetype is a lack of humor or awareness regarding the melodrama, though Polly Harvey's "Bend you over Casanova" is pretty hysterical, considering her panting. Which is why country music has been, to my mind, the greatest practitioners of Vengeful Woman, mixing threat and hilarity in equal measure, whether it be in the lyric, sound effect, or delivery.

The greatest example I can think of is Loretta Lynn's "Fist City," challenging a woman who's been cavorting around with her man. When Lynn sings "The man I love, when he picks up trash/He puts it in a garbage can/And that's what you look like to me," it is a witty putdown, and coupled with "stay outta my way/if you don't wanna go to Fist City" makes it both hilarious and terrifying, like most threats tend to be.

Vengeful Woman is directly related to Woman Done Wrong, which is a strength of the genre. There seems to have been a resurgence in country music of Vengeful Woman, thanks in large part to the success of the Dixie Chicks' "Goodbye Earl." The song is already a hoot when delineating the differences between Mary Ann and Wanda: Mary Ann leaves for greener pastures while Wanda stays in town, where "all she found was Earl." Natalie Maines' delivery of the word "Earl" here is uproarious in its shrugging dismissal, with a touch of bite alluding to Earl as a domestic abuser, in contrast to the joyous way she trills it in the chorus, making murder sound like both catharsis and party.

My favorite new additions to the Vengeful Woman canon both come via reality television, of all places. First there's American Idol behemoth Carrie Underwood, whose "Before He Cheats" manages both slow-burn revenge fantasy along with striking and illuminating detail, much of which is uproarious in its disdain. Underwood deserves tremendous credit for completely nailing the derisiveness she feels towards both cheatin' boyfriend and the gal he's cheating with. There's a wonderful dancing rhythm to how Underwood sings, voice dripping with scorn, lines like "He's probably buying her some fruity little drink cos she can't shoot whiskey" (! funny because this new girl clearly LACKS BALLS, what do you need with a horrible girl like that? A horrible girl that sings "some white-trash version of Shania karaoke"?!!!!!) and "He's probably dabbing on three dollars' worth of that bathroom Polo," lines whose attention to detail speaks worlds about its characters, meaning the chorus's decimation of the cheater's "purty little souped-up four-wheel drive" is, in this post-Beyonce age of romance-as-capitalism, appropriately cathartic and vengeful: The lyrics have spelled out this guy to be one of those awful dudes who cares more about his truck than his girl.

The second new entry into the Vengeful Woman canon comes via Miranda Lambert, who got her start on Nashville Star, apparently some sort of American Idol for country musicians. "Gunpowder & Lead" takes the domestic abuse of "Goodbye Earl" and one-ups it not with cute fantasy but by mixing it, amazingly, with something approaching the venom of Bikini Kill's "Suck My Left One." If in "Goodbye Earl" the Dixie Chicks protagonist poisons black-eyed peas (with a huge dose of wink), Lambert wants confrontation, setting up an ominous scene, darkly poetic in contrast to Underwood's blunt literalism. What finally elevates Lambert's Vengeful Woman ode is the propulsion of its attack, the explosion of the guitars in the chorus along with Lambert's throat of bile, the challenge of the abuser's masculinity, and showing that little girls aren't all sugar & spice. Lastly, "His fist is big but my gun's bigger" is as great, funny, and subversive a female appropriation of male phallus since Harvey's "50 Ft. Queenie." A sentiment I wish I could express more often, but thankfully there'll always be the Vengeful Woman in music to come up with something as great once more.

08/14/2008 at 05:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

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