A Critic's Coloring Book

If you ask me how a show was, most often I will say "great!" or "amazing!" or "awesome!" or "spectacular!" or something else filled with wide-eyed praise. It's a very rare occassion (or never) that I will say "it was OK..." or "eh...so-so..." or "it sucked."

This is the fatal flaw in my vain attempts to portray myself as a music snob. I'm too much of a fan, especially of live music. I'd like to be that guy who can find 15 different problems in a band's execution of a certain song. And then be able to snarkily express that on the internet in a blog post, tweet it in 140 characters, and post my disgust on Instagram (maybe a burnt orange picture of me grimacing in a trucker cap and checkered shirt).

But if I'm seeing a show, there's about a 99.9% I'm already a fan of the headliner. And there's a 99.9% chance I'm going to say "awesome!" afterwards. I just don't have that critical eye to be able to pick out what went wrong with the set; I'm too busy having fun. If I like a band, I'm all in. And that also applies to bands I don't like.

This week was a great example. I saw Wilco twice, Keane, and The Avett Brothers (all with opening acts). I've already blathered on enough about Wilco; need I say both shows were "stunning?"



 I'm completely in the tank for The Avett Brothers. Not only am I big fan of the roots/folk/bluegrass/Americana/string style they draw from, an Avetts' live show is exciting, emotional, and a hoot. The audience went from estatic pogoing with the brothers to complete silence during the quieter songs. "Ten Thousand Words" as 9,000 people are practically holding their breath on a cool Colorado night? Holy shit. We'll put that show in the "awesome!" category. Besides, have you ever really seen a cellist like Joe Kwon?? The guy rocks.



Keane is the interesting one of the bunch this week. It actually reminded me of my fatal flaw of non-critical thinking. I say that because by all accounts, I should not like Keane. Self-absorped piano based pop alternating between loathing and hope? Not really my cup of tea. And if you Google "Keane reviews," it's not pretty. Most of what you'll find is critics doubling up on the snark when it comes to Keane.

When I saw they were playing Tuesday night in a park right next to my hotel in Salt Lake, I figured I wouldn't go. I didn't know their music and the scathing online commentary made me think twice. Then I thought about the idea of a show right outside my hotel window. Could I sit in the room watching bad TV? I wouldn't be able to really hear the music through the unopenable window, but I'd know live music was going on right THERE!! I asked a friend who knows their music if I should go - she said I had to go. So, I went.

And?

It was great. The crowd was about as insane as I've ever seen with a band, singing along with every song, fist pumping with every Tom Chaplin fist pump. The music was catchy, the performers were earnest, and the whole experience was a great time. I was right near the front of the stage and definitely the odd duck out as I didn't know the words to any of the songs. In fact, I swear Chaplin looked at me a few times with a look of "why doesn't he sing along with the songs? EVERYONE sings along at a Keane gig!"



Not only do I bring a fan's perspective to shows of bands I already like, apparently it's true of bands I shouldn't even like. I'll most likely give Keane's albums a listen. Oh, the humanity! I'm sure I'll have to turn in my The War On Drugs NBA logo t-shirt (more on how superbly great that is band later).

This really is a fatal flaw. I have a feeling I've lost three-fifths of my audience with this admission (which in reality means I've lost 1.23 readers - hell my wife doesn't even read this). And, did I mention the opening acts this week (Dr. Dog, Blitzen Trapper, Kiev, and City and Colour) all were REALLY GREAT too...?

Set Break

If you're at all familiar with the culture of jam bands - music I love but a term I hate (more about that another time) - you know about the set break. I don't know the history of the set break but as all things in the jam band world seem to spring forth from the Grateful Dead, we can give them credit. Where the Dead got it from, I don't know.

Maybe it came from their days of playing clubs where bands were expected to play at least two sets. Or it grew from the acid tests and the set break was for the band to reload. Or, maybe the Dead were imitating their jazz influences by playing multiple sets in a night.

Wherever it came from, it's now a staple in this scene. Punk bands don't take set breaks. Indie bands don't take set breaks. Country acts don't take set breaks - unless their audience needs time to booze up more and kick the shit outta that asshole sittin' right there....I digress...and stereotype... Lady Gaga And Katy Rerry have costume changes but as far as I know they don't take set breaks. The set break seems to be the milieu of Broadway, sports, and jam bands. And here I thought Broadway was the exclusive partner of insanely successful pop punk bands.

That's a long and laborious lead in to saying that I'm in a set break right now: a Wilco set break. I saw them last night at Red Rocks. I'm seeing them again tomorrow night in Salt Lake City at Red Butte Gardens. It's a 46 hour set break! Definitely enough time to go to the bathroom, get another Diet Pepsi, and convince myself that i really shouldn't spend that $30 on a t-shirt...but I really want it...or am I just using material things to fill up a spiritual hole...but I digress...



Every Wilco show is a chance to be remind me why they are so good. Wilco brings  great - almost genius - songs and a really tight band (nowdays). The key is that within that great songs/tight band structure, they're loose and find room to experiment and challenge their audience.

On Father's Day, I blogged about Dad Rock and used Wilco as the perceived standard bearer. I was not being derisive as some are with this term. Seeing Wilco again last night and anticipating tomorrow night, I know it's a pretty off-base characterization. Does Wilco appeal to an older demographic? Sure. If you're around for 20+ years, your fans are going to age. Laws of nature, baby. But I also see the band appealing to a lot of youngsters, oldsters, middle-agesters, PBRsters, stoners, hippies, high schoolers, music nerds, and pretty much any category you can come up with to label someone.



Wilco seems to operate in a unique place of indie superstardom. They don't sell a lot of records at least by normal superstar standards. One gold record (Yankee Hotel Foxtrot) and the highest U.S. chart position being #4 reached by two of their albums.  So if you're looking for cultural phenom that is on the lips of America, Jeff Tweedy ain't it.

Yet, Wilco playing two nights at Red Rocks was a big deal. Dare I say there was a buzz about it? And Salt Lake City is sold out (albeit a smaller venue than Red Rocks).  It goes back to the fact that within the world of people looking outside the mainstream for their music - and honestly, who isn't these days? - Wilco has a large and pretty diverse following.

Those chasing the next big buzz band long ago abandoned Wilco (and any other band with more than one album and tour under their belt). There's a graveyard of those bands. I know; look at my vinyl collection from the 80s. Meanwhile, Wilco just keeps moving forward - and through a lot of band members. Though the current lineup really has something special going (God bless Nels Cline!).

I don't really have much of a point today. Except to say that I'm totally in the tank for Wilco. Funny how a band that can sound so quiet and sad one minute, so crazed and dissonant the next, makes this Dad feel all warm and fuzzy inside (awwwwww......).

The Jasmine In My Mind

It's the first day of summer. What better or more cliched time to post about the joys of summer songs?

There's a good write-up today on the topic over at NPR.* Billboard also has a list of top summer songs throughout the years. What makes a good summer song? Usually, it's lighthearted, it's fun, and a song everyone embraces. Turn on the radio, you're going to hear that song. Car drives by you with the windows down? You're going to hear that song.

The first time I really became aware of a song completely dominating a summer was 1976 with Silly Love Songs by Wings. Summer songs also make me think about 1983 when Every Breath You Take was everywhere. Or 1988 with Sweet Child O' Mine. Those were true summer songs.

Granted, I'm not sure what we were thinking when we made Sting's ode to stalking a feel good summer hit.  Ewww....

Does the summer song still exist? I'm not sure. Music has become so fragmented these days. And with so many specialized delivery channels, I wonder if we all can rally around one song this summer. Regardless, there is one we we should rally around:  

The Only Place by Best Coast.



The Only Place has everything a great summer song needs. It's wickedly catchy (just try getting it out of your head), it's jangly, and it's got fun in the sun. So what if the song is about how great it is to live in California and most of us don't live there. You don't write summer songs about Iceland. Unless you're sigur rós. For all I know, valtari is Iceland's Surfin' Safari; I'm not really an expert on Icelandic summer culture (more on that another time - I'm seeing sigur rós later this summer so maybe I'll learn something).

I doubt there will be a better summer song in 2012 than The Only Place. I'm also a realist who knows an indie buzz band has little chance of pulling off a summer hit like Jim Croce's Bad Bad Leroy Brown or Gnarls Barkley's Crazy. No matter how deserving The Only Place is, most likely the summer of 2012 will be remembered for whatever song the conglomeratized radio stations deem it to be (which is why I pretty much exclusively listen to Colorado Public Radio's OpenAir** - they play Best Coast and a lot of other great music).

We can change that. In four easy steps:

1. Go out and BUY Best Coast's new album, The Only Place.  Pay for it and help support the band. Really, you don't want any more lectures about illegally downloading music.
2. Anytime you're driving, play the song The Only Place, at full volume with the windows down. Repeat.
3. Call your favorite radio station DJ and demand they play The Only Place. Tell them you're Mr. or Mrs. Muckety-Muck, Director of Clear Lincoln Enter-Citadel Channel Communications, and they must play  The Only Place if they want to keep their jobs. 
4. Tell all your friends to do steps 1-3.

People, we can do this. We can make The Only Place the song of the summer of 2012. 



*Editor's Note: I swear to God I am not making this blog just about things that are first posted at NPR. After yesterday's post and now this, I'm up to three public radio references in eight posts. Hall of Fame numbers, baby! I promise this is the last one for a while. But check it out, it's a good playlist.

**Yet More Editor's Notating: SHIT! I did it again. Another public radio mention. Pretty soon, I'm going to be holding my own pledge week.

David vs. Emily

Have you heard about the David Lowery vs. Emily the NPR intern steel cage match taking place on the internet this week? It's definitely the grandest, most intense fight between an aging indie icon who also teaches college-level economics and a young, most likely unpaid (though you never know where our pledge week dollars go) intern at America's public radio juggernaut, NPR.

OK, so it's probably the only internet debate in that particular genre, but it's still pretty interesting. It's got emotion, it's got theft, it's got economics. At its heart, the argument is about how do we fairly compensate musicians for their work in the internet age.

The whole thing started over the weekend when Emily posted "I Never Owned Any Music To Begin With" on the NPR All Songs Considered blog. The post is a young person's view on the transformation of the music industry from providing a physical product to one which provides a digital product. It's an honest view by someone who has grown up with the internet being her main source of music. In the post, Emily admits:

I've only bought 15 CDs in my lifetime. Yet, my entire iTunes library exceeds 11,000 songs.

While she says she has (mostly) not built this impressive catalog by illegal means - meaning file sharing sites - it is clear that much of the music has come from other free sources: friends, prom dates, her college radio station.

The post set David Lowery - he of Camper Van Beethoven and Cracker fame - off. As a long-standing advocate for artists' rights in the internet age, Lowery posted "Letter to Emily White at NPR All Songs Considered" on his blog The Trichordist; Artists for an Ethical Internet. I'm going to completely over-simplify Lowery's argument and probably mangle his entire point (gimme a break - it's a long post and David Lowery is a very smart guy). But he sees people like Emily as what's wrong with the music industry in the internet age. A wild west system now exists where artists no longer are fairly compensated for their work. Lowery says illegal downloads/file sharing - or ripping of music from other free sources - is the culprit. Not only do artists receive nothing for their work when this happens, it also affects the whole economics of the industry to a point where musicians can't make a decent living.

Now, counter arguments to Lowery are starting to pour in. Most notably, Bob Lefsetz who starts his post with: 

If only he’d make music as riveting as his writing, with as many people caring about what he has to sing. Then again, Lowery is preaching to the converted, wannabe artists who are pissed the gravy train broke down before they could get their fair share.

Meeeoooooow! Guess we know where Bob comes down. He agrees that artists ought to be compensated for their work. In the internet age, though, it doesn't mean artists should be paid the same way they were before. He also takes Lowery to task for targeting a powerless music fan instead of the corporate interests who are the true criminals.

I don't claim to know word one about the economics of the music industry. I'm not an expert on how a product - an album, a CD, a streamed rock opera - is funded. I don't know how or who really makes money on the product. When it comes to live music, I can probably point out the promoter at a show. I can't tell you how much money he's making versus the band versus the venue owner.

But music is a very important part of my life. Like any good art, I see music as our physical attempts to open up a portal to the spiritual world, to touch and dance with God. Yes, I even include 80s hair metal; it takes all sorts of higher powers to make up our universe. From the time I was very young, I have spent a lot of money in my pursuit of music; probably what some would view as an excessive pursuit which continues to this day. 

From vinyl albums to CDs to digital downloads to streaming music services, from equipment to play that music on to concert tickets to band t-shirts (I'm a whore when it comes to concert t-shirts), from travel costs to a show or fest to food and drink at a venue, I don't even want to think how much money I've spent. I can say that outside the necesseties in life for my family and me, music is the number one place where my money goes.

I don't say that to put myself on some sort of higher moral ground than others. I'm not setting up a "hey man, I have supported the musicians!" viewpoint. I say it to illustrate that when it comes to economics, I'm a  mass(ive) consumer of music.

I don't illegally download music. I wouldn't do it because it's stealing. And, I really don't even know how to do it. A few years back, a salesman at Circuit City told me all about Pirate Bay. He wrote the website address on his card and assured me it was a great place to get music. Given who he was working for, I now have a better idea of why they went out of business. I wasn't really connecting the dots at the time so I checked out the site. I honestly couldn't figure out what I was supposed to do to get the music. Then I soon figured out the site had to do with illegal music downloading. I shut it off.

Again, I don't bring this up to show that I'm better than someone whose primary source of music is illegal downloads. I'm not. Going back to the days of cassette tapes, I've shared music with friends. And they've shared it with me. That includes albums I may have otherwise bought. I was ripping off the artist (and the record company, and the retailer, etc.).  Still, my overwhelming source of music is through paid means.

When I first read Emily's blog post, two things struck me. First, in her description of the change from the physical to the digital realm, never once was the word "vinyl" mentioned. This luddite is a little sad to think there are whole generations that may never know the joy of the album (more about that another time). Second, I did get my hair up some about Emily's claim to have only bought 15 CDs in her lifetime, yet she owns 11,000 songs in her iTunes library. I can only surmise based on what she wrote that most of this music was obtained for free (though not necessarily from illegal downloads) and not through a paid music service.

Then I read David Lowery's post and I thought: "right on! Stick to those kids who are sticking it to you!" Lowery makes a number of good points. When music is obtained from free sources, the artists are not compensated. And when an industry has that kind of hole blown in its revenue stream, it throws the economics out of whack. In this case, it's the artists who end up getting screwed. Lowery also takes on Spotify (which, if you read this blog, you know I like) for what he claims is a payment system that stiffs the artist. But he turns that back on illegal downloading and sharing of music, claiming that Spotify is competing against "free" so to make it work, it won't pay a fair share to artists.

Then comes Lefsetz. He - and others today in posts such as this - paints Lowery as whiny and too wedded to a system that is gone and will never return. It's a tough love message, and one sprinkled with accusations that Lowery isn't talented enough to make the money he wants to make. Lefsetz even quotes Gregg Allman to shame Lowery:

And if you think being rich is everything, you never read Gregg Allman’s book, wherein he states:

"Money doesn’t impress me worth a fuck, and it doesn’t make me feel good. I’ve had it both ways – I’ve been rich and I’ve been broke."

Gregg’s all about playing music.

     

I love Gregg Allman and the Allman Brothers Band. In fact, thanks to the addition of Warren Haynes, Derek Trucks, and first Allen Woody and then Oteil Burbridge, the Allman Brothers Band is as solid a live outfit as there is today. But I don't think I'd be using Gregg as a reliable source to back me up in this fight; Gregg's done pretty well for himself. Besides, Gregg's had enough fights in his life; let's leave him out of this one.

Lefsetz's main point that Lowery should be protesting the power interests instead of a powerless music fan is a very valid point. But he loses me when he claims that you have to earn the power to make change by becoming a rich musician, like Lady Gaga. Using that free-market-or-nothing approach, I think those in power would have even a tighter grip on what sort of music or art is available. That's not the promise of the internet or art.

Still we need people with money to support the arts. In fact, government should do much more to support the arts and you can't get a more powerful institution than that. I'd like to think we can live in a world where "the man" gets it in the end every time. It's about the art, man, and not the money. That's not reality. Michelangelo was paid to paint the Sistine Chapel. And the Catholic Church collects money from people who want to see it. That doesn't take away from the experience of seeing the piece; seeing it is still an awe inspiring, breathtaking, holy shit kind of moments in life. Money still is needed to feed the artist, to support the piece's creation, to distribute or show the piece, to maintain the piece.

I don't know who's right in this whole debate. I do tend to lean towards David Lowery's points because I think there has to be room for fairness in economics and business. But I think Emily brings up a reality that can't be ignored. And there is a place for Lefstez's tough love.

How do we music fans do the right thing? Do we go all Mookie and throw a garbage can through the window of Sony Entertainment? Do we never, ever purchase or stream music unless David Lowery OKs it? Or should we harangue the musicians who are standing up for their artistic rights by belittling their music and accusing all performers as dopers? Or can we buy into the Free Culture movement which says creative works belong to all?

I don't have an answer because this is about a major change; one that impacts people's livelihoods and passions. That's never easy.

I guess there's only one thing to do: listen to some Camper Van Beethoven. On Spotify.

Papa Don't Preach

A previous post promised more later about Dad Rock. It's Father's Day, or at least the tail end of Father's Day, so what better day to revisit this apparent scourge of the music world?

And that was the plan. I had a whole post going but it really wasn't going anywhere. It had the obligatory Dad Rock concert attire joke (Old Navy tan cargo shorts; check! Tastefully wrinkled Pixies t-shirt from the 2009 tour when they played Doolittle; check! Cap from favorite golf course; check! Sweater to tie around waist; check! Bag of weed procured from stoner friend who the wife says "just needs to grow up;" check!). It had the thesis that Dad Rock is about going soft and mainstream (remember, it was us Gen X'ers who brought indie music from college radio stations to a mass audience). It even had a "look how cool I am" reference to Pailhead.



OK - I'm leaving in the Pailhead reference. And I'll namedrop Ian MacKaye and Al Jourgensen.

But the post really wasn't going anywhere. I was trying to defend Dad Rock while also trying to sound hip and keep some semblence of indie cred. Trust me, that's not possible. It's impossible for Dads to have indie cred.

Dad Rock often means you're soft around the middle and so is your music. It used to piss me off.  (You damn kids ever heard of Pailhead? Well, I just referenced them!) But aren't young people supposed to make fun of what their elders listen to? What I think is cool instantly becomes unhip to younger people - even to my 12-year-old. And I wouldn't want it any other way.

I'm going to see Wilco a couple of times in the upcoming week. No band these days gets tagged as Dad Rock more than Wilco. It's the price you pay for following a couple of albums worth of great experimental music with several albums of more mainstream, yet no less enjoyable, music.





Wilco hasn't spent a lot of time trying to defend themselves against being called Dad Rock. They're even sponsoring Little League teams in Illinois and Massachusetts. Wilco gets it and are comfortable with where they are as a band. Probably as comfortable as I'll be in my Old Navy tan cargo shorts when I see them this week.

Question Answered

A previous post asked:

Like a Beach House-Seals & Crofts mashup as remixed by an underground Finnish DJ.

Actually, that has promise. If it does exist, could someone let me know?

I quickly heard from @NancyJew who pointed me to Ariel Pink's Round and Round.



Listen to it. I'm waiting....

........

........

........

I know, right?!?

Now, give the rest of Ariel Pink's music a listen. I had heard the name before but not the music. I've been  diving into it this week. It's been a lo-fi trip out kind of week.

Thank you Nancy. My mind is sufficiently expanded.

Huminary Webcast

The Bonnaroo webcast this past weekend ended with Phish's two-set festival closing performance. I didn't watch much of the fest except Sunday night when I tuned in during Phish's second set as 2001 went into a party-ready Chalkdust Torture.

I didn't last long with Phish because at the same time, the other YouTube channel webcasting from the fest featured Alice Cooper's set from earlier that day. Actually, that morning. Of course, I went with the Coop.



Alice opened  the set with a killer Black Widow which then led into a string of hits, many from the original band era. It rocked and (an older) Alice was in fine form backed by a very tight (much younger) band. But despite the chance to watch a longtime favorite (more about that another time), my attention started to go elsewhere.

"I wonder what's happening on Twitter..?"

"Anything on TV...?"

"I hope that's the dog...."

I love concert webcasts as an idea. I can sit on the couch in the comfort of my own home and watch Phish or Alice from Bonnaroo? Or even thegreatestbandintheworldtheyaremy- generationsBeatles Radiohead? Or any other number of bands webcasting from any number of venues on any given night? For free? Without a festival porta-potty in site? (Though if I want that experience, I just go use our boys' bathroom - they're seven and 12 - actually I think festival porta potties are cleaner) It shouldn't get any better than that!

In practice, though, I tend to get bored after a few songs. Granted, I don't have a TV/stereo/computer hook up where I'm blasting window-rattling sound with the video on 50" plasma screen. Still, even when I'm watching a webcast of a band I love, it just doesn't grab me. I don't get drawn in. There's a wall that blocks me from really connecting with the music.

A concert is a communal experience. It's impossible to recreate it, even with a hi-def live broadcast zooming straight to the device of your choice. How a band is reacting to an audience, how the audience is reacting to the band, how the anticipation builds once the doors open, how the guy two-inches taller is always standing right in front of me, how my really bad dancing increases with my level of joy, how my (sometimes) bare feet are blackened by night's or fest's end, and on and on. It's all about being in the room, in the arena, on the field with the band and other fans. It's an enormous give-and-take between everyone there.

A webcast is only take. I'm not giving anything that increases (or decreases) the community experience. I'm just taking the experience in through a wire. It's not awful - far from it. But when I hear people promise that webcasts are the "future of live music," I cringe. I know technology is changing everything and we should embrace it. And I do...

...wait a minute...."you damn kids, GET OFF MY LAWN!!!" .... sorry...

Where was I? Oh, yeah, I do embrace technology. But webcasts as the future of live music? Someday we'll all be couch touring instead of being on tour? It just doesn't work for me.

Hulking Beach Boy

Last week, JADEDPUNKHULK - for my money the best Hulk Twitter handle - posted:

Being about as far removed from hipsterdom as any 46-year-old Dad (more about Dad Rock another time), I could only come up with one band JADEDPUNKHULK might have meant; I had to look up other ones. Though I do really like the one that did come to mind: Beach House. Of course, I've only discovered them recently, well after the hipsters have probably moved on to other things.

Like a Beach House-Seals & Crofts mashup as remixed by an underground Finnish DJ.

Actually, that has promise. If it does exist, could someone let me know?

Maybe it's my age - I'm a bit obsessed these days on the whole growing old thing - but I've really been enjoying Beach House, especially their new album Bloom. It's mellow, quiet, trippy, dreamy. Hence the label Dream Pop. And did I mention mellow?



I don't mind mellow these days. Beach House can trace their roots back to the Nico songs on The Velvet Underground & Nico. The gauzy morning after Lou's heroin nightmare. Or the light that preceded  The Black Angel's Death Song.  I used to feel like I was tolerating the Nico songs to get to the darker, edgier material of VU. I wanted the dirty city in all its awfulness. Now I think I prefer that quiet haze to the the muck. Again, that getting older thing.



Julee Cruise also jumps to mind when I hear Beach House. I think it must be some sort of requirement for Dream Pop bands to channel her style when singing - females and males. Put on Beach House and I'm thinking a big waterfall in the Pacific Northwest. And trees. And fog. And backwards talking midgets.



But Julee Cruise's music didn't really hold up too well outside the world of David Lynch. I rushed out to get Floating Into The Night back in the early 90s. Without that waterfall? It didn't get a lot of time on the turntable.

Beach House holds up much better. Bloom has strong songwriting and a sound that floats throughout a room. Their first three albums are less produced yet still carry a lushness a much louder band just can't recreate. I can't tell you what any of the songs are about, but I know how they feel. It's fall, it's cloudy, and the chill sprays off the water.

Twenty years ago I wasn't looking for this kind of beach house. I wanted a louder, angrier house. One where JADEDPUNKHULK might feel at home. Now I like the quiet a lot more.

(Oh shit...have I just relegated Beach House to Dad Rock...?)

Family

Last night was my first Red Rocks show of the year: Michael Franti & Spearhead. I was going to write in length about it but my friend Kristen has an excellent post on her blog Walking Through Fire. Kristen is an amazing writer and she captures the evening in ways I could only conjure in my mind yet never commit to electronic Google driven paper.

Our Conifer family has been hit with an unusual amount of tragedy, challenges, and just plain life in 2012. Kristen and her her husband David have been chronicling their journey after losing their home during the North Fork Fire in March. Both blogs are worth your time.

Cancer, challenges with children, and the loss of beloved family members have also touched our Conifer community this year. Many of our family came together at Red Rocks last night. It's a stunningly strong and loving group of people who are still standing. And dancing. And jumping. And singing. And hugging loved ones. And laughing hysterically while being pelted with an insane amount of beachballs during The Sound of Sunshine.

 

I am blessed I got to do all that and more with my Conifer family at a very special place. Red Rocks is where I got my music back in 2008 (more on that another time). It's where I saw how music and dancing don't help us forget our troubles; it transcends them. It's where I watched the daughter of a friend become overwhelmed by the whole experience (the show was a bit loud from the second row). But I also later watched the same girl dancing on stage and stealing the entire night. It's where when Michael Franti said "put your arms around someone you love" I could reach out to my wife and son.

Yeah, I get it. Sappy. The cynical side of me would say it's just rock & roll. It's about selling some tickets and making some coin. And for the fans, it's about the party. Woo-hoo! 

I fall into the peace, love, and music category that says last night - and many other similar nights - was more than just entertainment processed for mass consumption. A Michael Franti & Spearhead show is a unique and spiritual event. Of the many times I've seen the band, this was the best. The crowd was off the charts from the start, Carl Young's booming bass threatened to tear the fabric of the universe itself, and Michael Franti's songs of love, hope, and community made a mountain jump. 

Last night featured first performance of a new song Do It For The Love. I can't remember all the lyrics but the message is clear. And there's no better way to express what music and dancing does for the soul and for the family.

AM Glory

Lunch today included a conversation about public radio and their regular fund raising drives. I had just made my annual donation yesterday and mentioned the main reason was the new music station launched by Colorado Public Radio, OpenAir. One person looked at me and with a bit of a disbelief said: "You mean the AM station with music??"

I get the disbelief. Yes, music on AM radio still exists. The AM dial is not completely the domain of talkers. But I get it when people are skeptical about listening to music on an AM radio station. When I first heard OpenAir last fall, I didn't like it. The sound was muddy, in mono, and, with the nosier numbers, almost hard to make out a song buried in the sludge. I wanted pristine stereo pouring through the speakers of my car; this is 2012 dammit!

Despite wishing I had the perfect sound, I kept listening to OpenAir I kept listening because it's the only station playing interesting, adventurous, new, and local music on terrestrial radio (more on how freakin' great this station is another day). And after awhile, I remembered something I forgot in the CD>digital era:  music sounds great on AM radio. Music sounds more real, warmer in muddy mono.

Most important, on AM radio a crappy song can't hide behind pristine production, stereo tricks, and other new era technologies. AM radio means a song must stand on its own merits. It's all right there for your listening and judging. After years of hearing pro-tuned music compressed through a digital machine where the heart is computerized out, music heard through AM radio is dripping with soul.
 
I'm a child of the 1970s Midwest. I grew up on AM stations. They were where we went for music on the radio. My favorite was WLS out of Chicago. My (what we call now) tween years were spent in reverent worship of what DJs like Larry Lujack, John Records Landecker, Bob Sirott, and Tommy Edwards were playing. These were real personalities playing real music. They were loose and at the core was rock & roll in all it's glorious mess; an AM radio fueled mess.

Or, at least that's the gauzy Wonder Years-like memory I've retained. But that memory is something I'd forgotten as we morphed from vinyl to CDs to online music. And I am a huge fan of what online music has brought us. I have more access to music today than ever before. From Spotify to the Internet Archive to Pandora/Slacker/etc. to every show by every band available in audience recordings or soundboard, the internet has blown open the doors to music. Somewhere along the way, though, I had lost a bit of what music sounded like when I fell in love with it.

After the lunch conversation, I got another reminder of how great AM radio can be. I got in my car this evening and turned on the radio as a fund raising appeal morphed into Spiritualized's "Hey Jane." The driving bass overwhelmed my speakers and we were off to the races. It sounded perfect.