The Beatles at 50: Still Guaranteed to Raise a Smile.

 

I remember being twelve and really listening to a band called the Beatles for the first time.  What I heard in those songs sparked something in me that I couldn't fully comprehend or articulate at the time.  All I knew was that is sounded radically different than any music I'd heard prior to that and immediately I decided to let my hair grow and thought seriously about playing drums.  This reaction wouldn't have been uncommon back in 1964 when the Beatles first arrived in America, but my reaction happened more than forty years after their unforgettable arrival.  That just shows the dynamite impact that their music and legacy still has on millions of kids even today.

Whenever I start to talk about the Beatles, my mind is overwhelmed with all that their music means to me, things which pile up in the doorway of my mind and never get out.  There simply isn't enough space to accommodate all that I could write about the Beatles.  This past weekend marked the 50th anniversary of their arrival and appearance on the Ed Sullivan show.  It's an anniversary I celebrated by listening to them non-stop the week before and re-watching the epic Beatles Anthology, which never fails to express all the ecstasy, madness and magic of their incredible musical odyssey.         

There are a number of cultural phenomena that can be said to have radically changed the course of  history for all time, but no event in recent memory has had quite the lasting impact as the Beatles' invasion of America in 1964.  It wasn't simply American music that was altered, it was every level of American life, style and consciousness.  When those four lads landed on our shores, they ushered in a new era of rock and roll consciousness, one in which we are still living today. 

Their legendary appearance on the Ed Sullivan show had 73 million viewers, the largest tv audience up until that point, mesmerized before their tv screens.  These days that kind of viewership is usually reserved for celebrity funerals or royal weddings, not the arrival of a pop group.  Even the teen girl hysteria surrounding boy bands like Nsync or more recently One Direction can't touch the frenzy stirred up by the Beatles' arrival.  It wasn't just teenage girls getting swept up in the mania, but boys as well who were electrified by the arrival of these shaggy headed guys.  Those who had never touched a guitar or drum kit suddenly clamored for these instruments and those already in the music scene were frantically taking notes.  Overnight, millions of boys unanimously decided to never let another pair of scissors touch their hair in an age where neat crew cuts were the norm.  In an instant, the Beatles took just about every "norm" and shattered it into oblivion.   

These were only the first signs of the new direction that the Beatles were pointing towards.  It's baffling to consider that I wasn't even close to being a thought when the Beatles broke up in 1970, let alone when they first arrived, and yet their impact has a deeply profound effect on me.  Just fathom the effect they had on millions of young kids who remembered a world before the Beatles.  Even more baffling is what these four guys from Liverpool were able to achieve in their remarkably short lifetime as a band.  In less than 8 years, they influenced every facet of culture, American and worldwide, with their songs, style, wit and attitude.  Along the way they recognized the need for artists to always be growing and challenging themselves and their music carried the rest of us through turbulent and dark times to a new maturity, all before any of them were thirty.  

The best way to describe the Beatles' influence on the world is to look at them as aliens whose sudden presence single-handedly shook a languid nation out of its collective disillusionment.  After Kennedy's assassination, the country was in desperate need of a shot in the arm and these strange beings from across the sea gave us one.  It was precisely the otherworldliness of their sound and style, indeed the whole splendid package, which whipped our weary spirits into a frenzy of pure bliss.  Like aliens, they seemed to descend from the stars to broadcast a musical message of joy, passion and love to an ailing nation.  Fifty years later, those messages they beamed into our collective conscious resonate across the ether like triumphant shock waves, still affecting our lives .  The songs the Beatles gave us have a way of getting under our skin and planting their roots firmly in our minds.  The enchantment of those tunes permeates every atom of our being and infuses our souls with an ecstasy which borders on the superhuman. 

The alchemy of their music is precisely why they were together for less time than the decade they defined.  That pure kind of magic which could only be conjured by the four of them together, took its toll on the very human men at the center of it and just like a dying star, the pressure inevitably led to self-destruction.   Like all great art however, their songs are immortal because they speak directly to universal, human passions.  This is why the songs still sound as fresh and enthralling as when they were crafted...and crafted they were, by four craftsmen who seemed to have secret blueprints to the very heart of mankind.  Even in humanity's darkest moments, the Beatles' music and legacy never fails to burst through the thickest storm clouds like the most radiant and splendid sunshine.   

When I grew up, the Beatles already held an omnipresent position in culture.  They weren't simply a part of pop culture, they were larger than it; they were a vital part of life.  Due to this, it was easy for my generation to dismiss them in favor of more obscure artists and bands in our desire to be original.  Every generation needs that one "band" that sets them apart and defines them and we've had several since the Beatles.  There's no doubt there are hundreds of great bands, both older and more contemporary, who have helped move culture and art forward, but none so seismically as the Beatles.  Therefore even those bands and artists who aren't directly influenced by the Beatles still owe them a huge debt. 

The loss of John Lennon and George Harrison has ensured that a true Beatles reunion is impossible, but there's no doubt that if they were still with us and reunited, especially for this 50th anniversary, it would be the biggest musical event in history, perhaps on par with their arrival.  Not only are most of their original fans still alive, but they now have legions of young fans like myself who recognize the ability of the music to speak to everyone in a unique way.  Their mark on culture and life extends well beyond not just the decade they defined but the century they helped shape.  Likewise, their music will always be a safe harbor for those seeking refuge from the storms of the world to find peace, unity, joy and love in boundless supply.  These are just some of the reasons why the Beatles, whether twenty, fifty or two hundred years ago today, will always be the greatest show in human history.              

RIP Lou Reed

The eternally cool Lou during his younger days in The Velvet Underground.

The music world recently lost a true visionary and pioneer when Lou Reed died yesterday at the age of 71.  I myself was shocked to read of his death in the many tributes to him from fellow musicians on Facebook.  Not only was Reed the founding member of the hugely influential band The Velvet Underground, he also had an impressive solo career that included team ups with David Bowie that helped usher in a new age of edgy rock music.  Reed wasn't simply a rock guitarist, he was a poet whose lyrics unapologetically reflected the often seedy underbelly of life on the streets in his hometown of New York City.  Lou Reed was the quintessential New York musician and his music reflects the frantic energy, swagger and charisma of the city.  I'll admit, I haven't amassed quite the collection of Reed's work that I hope to someday own, but I feel I'm familiar enough with his work, particularly the Velvet Underground, to talk about his impact on the music scene.  In addition to being influenced by the sub-culture of New York in the sixties, such as the burgeoning art scene led by Andy Warhol, Reed was also heavily influenced by the Beats, particularly William Burroughs.  I've also heard Reed mention the work of Leonard Cohen as a primary influence, most notably in his novel Beautiful Losers.  All of these influences were smashed together and blasted out of speakers in a cacophonous explosion of unrelenting primal madness that assaulted the listeners ears, usually accompanied by a light show that dazzled the eyes. 
The VU were about more than just music; their shows were a sensory experience, one which no doubt must've bordered on the transcendent.  Their iconic debut album, The Velvet Underground and Nico, released in 1967, was produced by Andy Warhol as part of his efforts to merge visual art with music in a show he called the Exploding Plastic Inevitable.  While Warhol's images flashed on stage, the Velvet's music would build to a wall of screeching electronic sound, ultimately bubbling over in a crescendo of atonal caterwauling like it was the end of the world.  The Velvet's music isn't just random noise however.  Much of their appeal lies in the blending of beautiful melodies, deeply poetic lyrics and down and dirty rock and roll, sometimes beneath their experimental sonic barrages.  Unlike their west coast contemporaries, The Velvets and Reed in particular, weren't afraid to step into the shadows and explore the gritty aspects of life in 1960's New York with unflinching honesty and directness.  Among other things, Reed's lyrics cover the highs of heroin use, Sado-masochism, drag queens, pimps, prostitutes, murder, madness and the malaise of life in the 21st century, delivered in Reed's monotone New York drawl.  On of their best songs, "Heroin", is the musical equivalent of a mainline shot of H, slowly building over 7 minutes until it explodes into a blissful oblivion like a hundred wailing firecrackers going off at once.
In the band's early days, the Nordic goddess Nico stood on stage like a statue, shaking a tambourine and singing in her hypnotic monotone voice.  In a time of bright, flowery and often polished rock music, the Velvets were raw and real, gritty and visceral and they made an indelible impact on everyone who heard them.  It's been said that not many people listened to the Velvet Underground, but everyone who did started a band.  Even during a time of great musical innovation and creativity, the Velvet Underground managed to remain totally distinctive and much of that is due to Lou Reed visionary approach to songwriting and music.  The Velvets don't fit neatly into any one category and that's what makes them so timeless and fresh.  They weren't psychedelic yet they were highly experimental, incorporating instruments such as electric viola alongside screeching guitars and pulsating tom toms.  They weren't a pop band, yet they had many beautifully melodic songs, such as "Sunday Morning" or "I'll Be Your Mirror", and although they helped lay the foundation for the punk movement more than ten years prior, they're not a punk band; ultimately, they're a little of all these things and none of them.  Considering how "underground" they were initially, it's amazing that some of Lou Reed's songs such as "Sweet Jane" are now considered rock and roll standards. 
After The Velvet Underground split, Lou Reed released many notable solo albums, among them Transformer, produced by David Bowie, in which he continued his exploration of alternative lifestyles and music styles.  The album yielded the radio hit "Walk on the Wild Side", a catchy tune replete with drag queens, junkies, whores and hustlers, although most people only remember the catchy "Doo do doo do doo" chorus.  The album has several other gems such as the driving opener "Vicious", the classic "Satellite of Love" and the beautiful "Perfect Day".  As the album's title implies, Lou Reed was a musical shape-shifter capable of embodying a multitude of outcasts and outsiders, both male and female.  Like all great artists, Lou Reed's work sheds an honest light on those facets of life deemed "undesirable" or simply overlooked and finds commonality by being unashamedly honest and open.  These days, words such as legendary and classic are thrown around quite loosely and often it can be hard to tell if an artist's work will stand the test of time, but in Lou Reed's case, it's beyond question that his work has already secured its place in eternity.  Sadly, Lou Reed now belongs to the ages, but his music has belonged to the ages for quite some time now.  RIP Lou and thank you for filling this life with such honest and joyful music.                    

Leonard Cohen: Beautiful Stranger

      It was almost fifty years ago in Dec. 1967 that a novelist and poet, little known in America but on the rise in his home country of Canada, released his debut album.  His name was Leonard Cohen and the album was Songs of Leonard Cohen.  However unassuming the title and the stark, sepia toned cover photo of a demure Cohen seemed, those grooves contained songs full of mystery, atmosphere and immense poetic power.  From the first bare notes of "Suzanne," the listener is gently ushered into a strange world that somehow feels familiar.  The song seems to emanate from another, higher realm of sensation: a snowy, ethereal world of half-remembered dreams and memories of lost love.  Like the title character, the half crazed, beatific Suzanne, the song itself remains beautifully elusive, giving only faint impressions of a "divine" love which is unattainable.  Every song on the album is likewise charged with palpable mystery.  Songs like "The Master Song" and "The Stranger Song" are enigmatic gems of curiosity.  This is a testament to Cohen's poetic ability which, when paired with the bare instrumentation of the songs, casts an enchantment over the listener which linger in the brain long afterwards.  His debut, released when he was 33, was the start of a long and ultimately prosperous career, which over the years earned Cohen millions of loyal fans.  It's my opinion that his appeal lies partly in his seamless blending of apparently opposing themes: his work always strives to bring together the disparate threads of spirituality and sexuality, piety and passion.  In all these elements he seems to be able to draw out a universal concept; the theme of longing.  His best songs ache with the burden of longing which all humans carry, whether for physical satisfaction or something more ethereal, beyond the earthly.  His body of work speaks to so many people because it strives for inclusion rather than exclusion.  Everyone can see themselves in the band of wounded souls that his songs give voice to.  Cohen seems to have us pinned at every point in our life: in victory, in defeat, in ecstasy, in the clutches of despair, in the spring of hope and the winter of disillusionment.  He shows time and again that this earthly life is not perfectable; try as we might we can not shape it to our will.  The harder we try the more we suffer, but it is our suffering which gives us our ragged beauty.  We are angels howling in misery at the bottom of the pit of life.  Perhaps what makes "Hallelujah," his most cherished song is that it expresses this concept perfectly.  We are all fighting an inner battle, a spiritual struggle within ourselves, one in which the only victory is surrender.  Once we realize that "perfect" victory is unattainable and that even love is "not a victory march," but rather a melting of oneself into something larger, it becomes clear that we are all singing a broken "hallelujah," with a holiness all its own.  This is where the power of his songs emanates from; the collective realm of suffering and salvation that makes up life.  Cohen himself is a beautiful stranger in the world of music.  He seems to have slipped in quietly and unobtrusively when no one was watching the door and has been there ever since, secretly feeding our lives with wisdom from another place.  Like all great visionaries, literary or musical, I see Cohen as a man of two worlds: he lives among us, embracing the fullness of the world rather than shunning it, but he ultimately answers to a higher calling.  As evident in First We Take Manhattan when he writes, "I'm guided by a signal in the heavens," Cohen's gaze rests on a distant horizon that is hidden from most of the world.  Who or what supplies this signal is unclear, even to Cohen himself, but that's exactly the point.  Cohen chooses to live in the mystery of existence, marveling at it's boundless manifestations and trying in his humble way, to pay tribute to the curious emanations of beauty he witnesses everyday in our world.  I think I speak for all his fans when I say I'm lucky to be alive at the same time as Leonard Cohen.  

The Mercurial Ghost

He's been called so many things: Poet, spokesman, prophet, phony, sell-out, and perhaps most famously, Judas.  Yet through all the changing winds of status and stature he's only had one name: Bob Dylan.  The name itself is a fabrication, a manufactured pseudonym that remains as elusive as the man that it identifies.  Regardless of how the name came to be, since it was introduced to the world in the early sixties, it's a fully charged name, one that crackles with strange electricity whenever it is brought up in the right circles.  Bob Dylan means a lot of different things to a lot of different people but the common thread that connects them all is the passion with which his ever morphing music brings out in people at various stages of their lives.  Dylan seems to live within everyone in some form or another.  In his 50 year career it's as if he's lived behind everyone's eyes, seeing all and experiencing all in order to dispel the stories and situations of everyday life spanning this continent and the world beyond.  At his core, Dylan is an actor who feels most comfortable in other people's skin.  Since Bob Dylan doesn't really exist, Bob Dylan can be anyone.  In many ways he represents us all and his music seems to speak to all our hopes, fears, insecurities and jealousies, triumphs and despairs as well as our great cruelty and compassion, both personally and collectively.  He encompasses an entire universe of human behavior.  Because of this I see him as the ghost who lingers in the back of our consciousness, smiling, laughing, crying, berating...  Within his music lies a vast, dark ocean of sensation and feeling beyond the waves of thought we battle with day after day.  When Dylan's masterpiece Blonde on Blonde was released in 1966, giving rock it's first double album, he described the record as having the "thin, wild, mercury sound," he'd always heard in his head.  That beautifully cryptic phrase suits Dylan's personality to a tee: the mercurial star of electricity shifting to fit the contours of his wild vision, wherever it may take him.  Those who listen to him are lucky enough to have been along for the ride.  Like anything worthwhile, it hasn't always been the smoothest, most comfortable ride and at many times people have felt the desire to get off.   When he first showed signs of abandoning the seemingly pure paradise of folk music in favor of more personal, introspective songs ripped from his soul as well as writing more absurdly humorous songs with no specific target, gripes that he was selling out to commercial interest began to be heard.  Plugging in his electric guitar and fronting a rock band was seen as rubbing salt in the wounds of folkie purists who already felt betrayed.  Overnight, Dylan had gone from obscure Greenwich village urchin to the rugged king of the folk revival as well as a reluctant prophet-poet for an outspoken generation with a common dream of changing the world.  When Dylan turned away from this almost deified position, one which never sat right with him in the first place, it was seen as the ultimate slap in the face. What all those suddenly jaded folkies failed to see was that rather than abandoning the movement completely, Dylan was instead widening his gaze to encompass a whole universe of previously overlooked derelicts and outcasts swept aside by our often savage and unmerciful society.  His songs were throwing a light on the narrow corners of our world and exposing the tangled web of complex situations and circumstances at work behind everyday life.  Songs like "Chimes of Freedom," "Like A Rolling Stone," "Tombstone Blues," and "Desolation Row," with their parade of downtrodden and warped circus renegades, hold up a fun house mirror to society in an attempt to show how bizarre this "normal" life usually is and just how truly complicated it can get.  In order to effectively showcase all of this lunacy it becomes necessary for Dylan to be more than one person.  The true genius of Dylan's work lies in its adaptability; by writing about general, universal themes and concepts with a razor sharp wit and satirical eye, his best songs continue to be applied to a myriad of situations whether political or social, personal or collective.  As Dylan himself so wisely observed in 1965, everyone has their own personal ideas and images about even the most universal of concepts and therefore it's useless to write songs with specific messages.  Instead, his most timeless songs remain stubbornly elusive and beautifully enigmatic.  Their essential meaninglessness allows them to be continuously re-adapted to fit the shape of current circumstances.  Like water, they contour to almost any situation.  In Dylan's world, it is meaninglessness which is holy, meaninglessness which represents a rare kind of freedom:  the freedom to be anything and anyone, do almost anything and to simply keep on keeping on.  It is meaninglessness and selflessness that allows this man named "Dylan" to be anyone he chooses.  He is all encompassing, he is everyone and he is no one.  His music, to me, represents the perpetual surge of creation and existence present behind all things at every moment.  One can listen to his songs and see the full span of life replete with all the  mysterious misfits who inhabit and pass through this realm and the infinite array of experiences, most beyond comprehension, that one can encounter in their life. In this way Dylan's music -- which will have people discussing, arguing, contemplating, cursing, laughing and crying over until the end of time-- fulfills the basic characteristic of folk music, which is the ability to be re-adapted time and again to help shed much needed light on the world's increasingly desperate situations and provide some perspective from places just beyond the fringe of our consciousness.                     

Viva La Vinyl

For my maiden post I wanted to talk about the vinyl revival I've been experiencing lately.  Since I was born in 1989, I missed out on the days of vinyl dominance and therefore had to work my way backwards to these relics from a bygone era.  When I seriously got into music, I bought cd's of the bands I was listening to at the time: The Beatles, Bob Dylan, The Rolling Stones, etc.  Even as I watched the cd begin to bow out to MP3's and IPOD's, I still preferred those little plastic discs.  A friend of mine who grew up listening to vinyl turned me on to the more subtle pleasures of collecting and listening to my music at 33 1/3 and 45 rpms.  Soon I began seeking out whatever record stores still existed around Rhode Island.  One of the best is Round Again Records in Providence.  Here you're sure to find a few gems in near pristine condition for a steal.  I discovered fairly quickly what a joy it is to hold an album, admire the artwork of a favorite cover, slide the record out, place it on a turntable and put the needle down.  The first distinct pops of a record can deliver a feeling of comfort almost as enjoyable as the actual music.  Since getting into vinyl and hearing many of my favorite albums on both vinyl and cd, I've become aware of the differences between the two formats.  One hears all the time, usually from vinyl purists, that vinyl gives a much warmer and richer sound as compared to the often cold, hollow sound of many early cd's.  For most vinyl fanatics the occasional pop or crackle is a welcome addition to the music itself, one which adds to the atmosphere of the music being played.  I've found that I deeply enjoy the sound of a record over my speakers.  Vintage vinyl also offers the listener the chance to hear their music in a format that isn't heard much today but was once the standard; that would be Monural sound.  Music delivered with a punch from one channel of direct sound.  When I first started listening I didn't know anything about mono or stereo and probably wouldn't have been able to tell the difference if my life depended on it.  Now with the resurrection of vinyl and in the interest of recapturing the sound of those early rock records, many classic albums have been reissued in mono on both vinyl and cd.  I recently bought the box set of Dylan's first 8 albums in mono cd to go along with my stereo set.  I'm sure most who grew up listening to those albums and many more in mono would argue that was the way they were meant to be heard.  They'd probably tell you stories of buying their first stereo album and having to run back and forth from speaker to speaker to hear everything that was playing.  Having listened extensively to both I like to think that I can appreciate both mono and stereo and accept their individual limitations just like I accept both vinyl and cd.  I find that certain albums are enjoyed more on vinyl than cd and vice versa.  This might be because the artwork on the cover can be appreciated more on a record sleeve than from a little booklet or it might be that the track listing is appreciated more when one has to take a moment to flip the record.  The extra work that goes into playing vinyl can be either seen as a labor of love or a waste of time depending on who's doing the listening.  For those who listen to music as a means to some other end like dancing, or providing background ambiance, it's crazy to listen to vinyl.  For those who want something playing simply to fill in the silence around them continuously, vinyl is not ideal.  However, those who listen purely for the music and the multitude of feeling that a new, unheard record or a familiar, lifelong record can deliver, vinyl and the work that goes with it can be a treat for more than the ears.  Many current artists such as Jack White have been praising the merits of vinyl and releasing their albums in both formats to reintroduce vinyl to a generation that's grown accustomed to getting their music fix instantaneously.  Obviously, those not interested enough in music will never know what a vinyl record even is let alone how to play it, but hopefully the push from these popular artists will compel younger listeners to take some time and give good ol' vinyl a spin.          

Song of Myself

Before I really get started here it'd be helpful to give a little info about my life and the great love I have for the music and artists I cherish so deeply.  I'm a 23 year old from Rhode Island.  I'd like to say that most of my involvement with music comes from making it but mostly I'm just a professional admirer of other people's work.  For years I dabbled with the drums but these days my kit sits untouched gathering dust in my basement.  I've also been messing around on guitar lately, trying to teach myself a few songs.  My main focus is writing, something that can be immensely rewarding on good days and endlessly frustrating on bad days, which are most days.   I tend to jump between poetry and prose but I've also been trying my hand at songwriting.  Anything that can't be sung I just call a poem which means that most of my "songs" are poems.  How I found my way to the musical goldmine that I've been listening to is an interesting story.  Growing up I didn't think much of music beyond what played on the radio.  My parents are by no means audiophiles even though my dad's a musician; he plays electric and upright bass.  Even so, he was a strictly by the book musician having been taught to read music and playing mostly classical and big band stuff (not that there's anything wrong with that).  For most of my childhood my music collection consisted of little more than a few cds i kept in a shoebox, mostly of artists who were big at the time.  It was a friend of mine who grew up listening to vinyl and playing in bands who helped steer me towards the treasury of great music I've been exploring.  I started by listening to the popular rock bands and artists who've ensured a timeless place in pop culture and history: among others,The Beatles, Bob Dylan, The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, The Who, The Kinks and a few of the other royalty of Rock.  Dylan and The Beatles especially became my twin tour guides, showing both a way forward and backward into the foggy realms of music and culture.  My friend helped to round out my research into British bands by adding less recognized but just as heavy hitting bands such as The Dave Clark Five, The Yardbirds, The Animals, etc.  From there I moved onto heavier British blues bands, namely Cream and Led Zeppelin; the golden gods of rock.  With Dylan I began listening from his folk roots as the unwilling prophet of the protest movement but soon discovered that his mid-sixties work, paticularly the electric trilogy (Bringing it all Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited, Blonde on Blonde), was a veritable treasure trove of mind warping poetry and surreal imagery blasted into the brain along with some of the most ferocious guitar licks ever played.  Once I entered Dylan's twisted circus world, a fun house mirror version of our own, I never forgot the characters I met.  In the next few years my musical journey took me through the key places and periods highlighted on the map.  I made my way to San Francisco to hear Bay Area Bands like the Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane and Country Joe & the Fish jamming all night in grand ballrooms full of swirling lights.  Then onto LA and the Sunset Strip to hear the chiming, jet age sound of The Byrds, the dark, jazzy hypnotism of The Doors as well as the gruffer folk-rock of Buffalo Springfield and the garage groove of Love.  Soon enough I was deluged by a veritable waterfall of bands and artists pouring out from the cracks of every major music scene.  There are plenty of other bands deserving of mention but I'm afraid this listing would begin to turn into a book.  Bottom line is that the bands mentioned above and a hundred others just as worthy of praise were instrumental in shaping my views of the world and providing me with a boundless universe of outlets for expression and thought and continuously force me to look at the world in new and fresh ways, taking everything in and spitting it back out in the shape of a song.