I hadn’t realized that it was Ray Manzarek playing the bass on his organ/proto-synth, but duh, they didn’t have a bass player. I love Ray’s focussed bobbing as he plays. The dutiful drummer is always there, doesn’t seemed stoned out, ready to move when HE does. The guitarist infuses his frizzy hair into his fuzz-face effected guitar sound, watch out. And Jim Morrison. He’s like a cobra, sleepy, patient, waiting to strike. And then that blood curdling scream. I’m trying to imagine what he was “on” –– my guess is booze. He seems slightly soporific, with a swagger, and a bit of bellicosity. Whatever, this is a terrific alternate version of the song, much longer. I had never realized the loop/vamp aspect of this. It did come out around the same time as Terry Riley’s IN C.
I haven’t played any Rufus Wainwright on the piano for a long time. I decided to sit down and play along with him, so these are the songs I’ll be playing tonight in my private concert. Sing along if ya like! (It’s in alphabetical order, but still makes a interesting playlist.)
Another one of my all time favorite songs is “NSU” by Cream, meaning Eric Clapton, Jack Bruce, Ginger Baker, and a lot of drugs. I loved Cream. The metric/time world of NSU is great fun, much like the opening of Rufus Wainwright’s “Movies of Myself” where the opening figure has very little to do with the opening melody. It is a surprise when it come in and WHERE it comes in. I couldn’t find the date of this recent performance, but the earlier one is from when they were an active band in 1967. Sorry for the frozen picture, but you need to hear the original if you don’t know it. And even though it is not the performance from the commercial recording, it’s a wonderful live performance that is clearly from the same period.
Cream was one of the best bands from the 1960s. Eric Clapton is now well known and respected, but his band mates are not given their due in my humble opinion. Jack Bruce is a brilliant composer, bass player, but especially a spectacular singer. His energy was/is thrilling. Ginger Baker gave us more information as a drummer than any other percussionist in history. All this while stoned out of his mind on something. I love seeing them all here, looking like intellectuals, and revisiting their old friend, NSU.
Some of us charge large hourly wages for our services. Lawyers, therapists, personal trainers, consultants, salaried employees and so on. I guess I’m one of those people. It occurred to me tonight while I was playing TUG with the dogs –– what are my hourly wages for playing with my dogs? $250 an hour? $500 an hour, 1 hour minimum?
No, silly, you don’t get paid for playing with your dogs.
Yeah, but it’s the same YOU that is doling out that valuable information to clients.
No. Dogs get your attention for free.
Um, excuse me: my dogs are giving me that look….
[PS: Y'know, another great thing about dogs is they don't have email.]
When I compose large vocal works (e.g “Hidden Legacies,” “Letters to the Future,” “Flashpoint/Stonewall,” “Rosarium,” “The Crocodile’s Christmas Ball,” and now “Home in Cyberspace,” friends who come to dinner are often corralled into my studio and made to listen to me sing whatever I’m working on. This is invaluable to me as I can see what works and what doesn’t. If someone falls asleep, I have to ask myself whether I need to cut those 24 measures or the person is just tired.
People love being sung to. It’s like being told a story, something all of us are hardwired into taking in. Some people fall asleep in a concert hall because it is the first time they’ve been able to stop all week. They hear this great music, it calms them, sets their mind in motion, they sit back, the alpha brain waves kick in, the eyelids become heavy and WHIPLASH. OOPS~ No, I really wasn’t nodding off, I was just checking something on the floor.
A common response I see when I sing to people is that the listener become a child — the eyes widen and all “mature” affectations and defense mechanisms disappear.
One friend, a folk musician with a terrific ear, has a hard time not joining in, even though he had never heard the music before. (This drove me nuts.) He would pick up and start playing a guitar, or an accordion, or a tin whistle, or just start singing. That can work for some songs, but not all.
The other day, I sang some of HOMER to Susan, Rob and Mitchell. Susan grabbed the music and we sang it together (she sightread perfectly), and that was great fun.
Twice in my life a response popped up that I can only describe as a kind of contented glossolalia that is likely related to the coos of a happy baby. These two people were not on any drugs stronger than a couple of glasses of red wine. I started singing, and after a few songs in, I noticed moaning going on. One of my listeners had his eyes have open, singing along (not in tune whatsoever) in a kind of nonsense babble in utter ecstasy. He would symmetrically tap the tips of his fingers together like silent claps, not in rhythm to the music, but just a kind of tail-wagging activity.
A similar reaction occurred when a friend, who is a musician, seemed to be taken in by the music, so he starts talking. Not to anyone, just to the experience. And it is almost like rap in that it’s words, but it is a glossolalian counterpoint that he couldn’t resist providing. If he had an instrument, he would have started jamming, but he didn’t so he jabbered instead.
I have an irresistable need to respond to music. I have gotten over the O-you-can’t-move-to-music edict common to much classical music venues. I have to move. Sing along, without disturbing those around me. My hands move. My breathing dances along with music. I can’t help it. I realize that as odd as it was to have these people moaning or jabbering along while I’m singing, that is their response.
This is another in a series of songs that I heard driving down the street in LA listening to KCRW and a song came on that nearly made my have an accident. This one is the formerly very young and cool artist, now older and more mature Fiona Apple. Her most recent album (2007) is called “Extraordinary Machine” and the title cut has the same name. On the album, this accompaniment is played by an instrumental ensemble (quasi-orchestra, probably sampled). Here, on the TODAY show, she is accompanied only by a guitar and bass. This is 21st century 3-part counterpoint at its finest. I had no idea that this song could be so cool with just bass and guitar, and of course Fiona. I love how this song straddles pop, Kurt Weill/cabaret, and art song.
[The opening introduction is very loud, so turn down your speakers until the intro is over and the music starts.]
And, uh, what is the story with the lame applause? It was the camera man, the cue card guy, and Fiona’s driver?
One of my favorite songs of all time is Imogen Heap’s “Hide and Seek” here done with a video fantasy POV rather than IH performing it live, which she can do quite beautifully. When I first heard this song, I was driving home in LA, listening to KCRW and this came on. I nearly had an accident and wet my pants. O my god, what an amazing song, and an amazing artist. Later I later heard her at the Wiltern and loved her show. Three cheers for Immy! And if you have never heard this song, be prepared to be blown away. So sit down and LISTEN.
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