robert zimmerman

I've been wanting to write about my recent education on Bob Dylan and subsequent obsession with all things related but I've had trouble trying to figure out how to do so without being boring. Perhaps someone out there may be thinking, why abandon boredom now after such a consistent track record of incomplete and uninteresting posts with no real purpose other than killing time between episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm and Wipeout? The answer: I dunno. This is mostly a conversation I have in my own head. There is a voice that says, "No one cares about any of this." Then there is another that replies, "I don't care. I'm writing for me." This discussion goes on for a bit until I'm finally able to quiet the first voice and go about the business of putting thoughts into words. Perhaps it's narcissistic. I'd prefer to think of it as an exercise in mental health or an experiment in vocabulary. At any rate, I've managed to completely ignore the subject of this post so far…Bob Dylan.

Like many other legendary artists, Dylan's significance is deeply rooted in history. Had he been born twenty years later, we may never have heard of Robert Zimmerman. Lucky for us he was born in 1941 and learned music during a time of great transition for the nation, which would serve as the inspiration and motivation for much of his early work. A couple of weeks ago I watched the excellent documentary No Direction Home from film giant Martin Scorsese. Prior to watching this film I knew embarrassingly little about the music and career of Bob Dylan. I was never really drawn to his music and to be honest, I never understood why he was such a revered artist. In one of my undergrad courses at Temple we spent a brief moment discussing the impact Dylan had on folk music, but it wasn't enough. I didn't get it. He decided to plug-in his guitar at some folk festival and made a bunch of people angry. So?

No one bothered to explain to me that Dylan was a master song writer. Scorsese did a great job of setting the scene for each stage of Dylan's early career, starting with Robert's youth in Minnesota, his journey to Greenwich Village, up to his transition into rock music in the late '60s, when much of the world felt as if he had betrayed them. Dylan had a unique talent for writing lyrics that were not topical yet relevant and timeless at once. After arriving in New York and playing old folk traditionals for a time, he began to separate himself from the other musicians collected in the city by writing his own material. Much of that material sounded as if it could have been written years earlier by more experienced men and a lot of those songs became new anthems for the civil rights and anti-war movements. He was 22 when he wrote "Blowin' the Wind" but it was obvious his soul was much older. In the film, Mavis Staples remembers how hard it was for her to understand how this young white boy was able to write a song that so completely captured what black people were experiencing at the time. Needless to say, this completely shook up the folk movement that was happening in the late '50s and early '60s and propelled Dylan to fame.

One of the things that really struck me about Dylan's music is how much of it has been covered by other artists. What really separated him from his peers, besides the superior song writing, was the parallel success others had with his songs. "Blowin' in the Wind," for example, was made into a world-wide hit by Peter, Paul and Mary in 1963, not by Dylan himself. The Byrds made "Mr. Tambourine Man" a #1 hit in 1965, the same year Dylan released the song on his own album Bringing It All Back Home. Both Johnny Cash and The Turtles made hits out of "It Ain't Me Babe" in 1965 even though Dylan had released it a year earlier on Another Side of Bob Dylan. Before I watched Scorsese's documentary I knew that Jimi Hendrix did not write "All Along the Watchtower." Bob Dylan did. It was originally recorded in 1966 and then made into a rock classic by Hendrix in '68. In each of these instances Dylan recorded and performed these songs with a straight forward folk sound while his fellow artists dressed them up and made them into pop hits. The way Dylan tells it in the documentary, he decided at one point he'd like to have a hit song himself so, he made a ten page letter written in anger to an unknown recipient into "Like a Rolling Stone" and hit the charts himself. It was that easy.

I love the stories of how Dylan upset the mass folk following he had acquired in the early '60s by reinventing himself into a rock musician with electric guitars and drums (gasp!). He toured the UK in the mid '60s with The Beatles and audiences made it clear they did not care for the new electric Bob Dylan, regularly booing and heckling during the non-acoustic portion of his set. People were really upset about this. They took it personally, feeling as if he had sold out and had deceived them all in the process. Why wasn't he rescuing them from injustice and oppression as they had expected? It didn't seem to matter what the the lyrics to songs like "Maggie's Farm" or "Tombstone Blues" were. The music was too loud and a lot of folks missed the message as a result. But they kept listening. They kept buying records and concert tickets. It is the most inspired and well crafted "sell out" in the history of music. I think most folks get that now. You have to admire how Dylan did not let this strong opposition to his development as an artist stop him from being who needed to be creatively.

So, it's true, No Direction Home has turned me into a Bob Dylan fan. I have been loving pretty much everything he did between '63 and '66 (he released 6 albums during that period, including the double LP Blonde On Blonde). Some of my favorites songs so far are "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall" from '63s The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan, "When the Ship Comes In" and "Only A Pawn In Their Game" (about the assassination of Medgar Evers) from '64s The Times They Are A-Changin', "It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)" and "Subterranean Homesick Blues" from Bringing It All Back Home, "Tombstone Blues" from '65s Highway 61 Revisited and all of Blonde On Blonde is brilliant but my favorite tracks are "Visions of Johanna" and "Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again."

As it turns out, Robert Zimmerman is a true American legend. It kind of makes me wonder about what the rest of us have been born to do. I don't think Dylan set out to change folk music or write anthems against injustice. I think his talents just took him there. His obvious discomfort with super-stardom confirms his only interest is in writing and playing what he's inspired to. In a lot of ways I hope it works out that for all of us, that we find what we're good at and just keep doing it the best way we know how while growing, learning, changing and persevering through doubt.

more of y'all know who

I feel like I need to say more about The Roots. Their first album, Organix, was recorded in 1993. I was 12 years-old. Now, 17 years later, I feel as if I've grown up with them. I will admit, Organix didn't blow me away and few people heard it in '93 as it was self-released. Like many others, I discovered The Roots in '95 when they dropped Do You Want More?!!??! At that time they were an anomaly (and still are, really). No one was making rap music with live drums, no one. At least now one was doing it on records. To this day I don’t believe there is another group like them on the planet. If you've seen them live then you understand the true nature of their eclecticism.

In real life, they are much more than a rap group. They are a full band with a working knowledge of jazz, rock and pop which allows them to do just about anything they want on stage. I've seen them cover The Police, Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, Black Sheep, De La Soul and countless others. On record, they are hip-hop legends who carved out a niche for themselves in rap music, played a large part in the late '90s Neo-Soul movement and helped jump start, revitalize and resurrect several careers. Common can thank them for making him relevant again with their work on Like Water For Chocolate in 2000. They turned D'Angelo from a simple hit maker into a seasoned-sounding soul man on Voodoo (also in 2000). They turned in one of the most memorable performances of MTV Unplugged history providing live beats as Jay-Z's backing band in 2001 (some of those songs sound way better than Jay's recorded versions). They've made a habit of spot-lighting local talent on their records, exposing Philly artists like Dice Raw, Jazzyfatnastees, Ursula Rucker, Bahamadia, Beanie Sigel and Eve. And if they had had their way, a then unknown Jill Scott would have been singing the chorus on "You Got Me" instead of Erykah Badu. You've got to love how they have not forgotten where they come from and have done their best to bring other talented folks up with them.

For those unfamiliar with The Roots I want to give you a road map. As with most things, start at the beginning.

For a taste of the early, raw sounding work listen to "Popcorn Revisited" from Organix and the classic "Proceed" from Do You Want More?!!??!. Then check out my favorite cut from Do You Want More?!!??!, "Distortion to Static". There are hints at the diversity ?uestlove possesses on the drums here.

Now, from this point on, they work on polishing their studio sound. Example, "Push Up Ya Lighter" from Illadelph Halflife. The drums sound tighter, the production slicker. Plus, you'll get to hear Bahamadia, which is both bitter and sweet. Where did she go? I'm ready for her return. While you're on Halflife check out the posse cut "Clones," "UNIverse at War" featuring Common and their first hit "What They Do" with Raphael Saadiq on the chorus.

Move on to the classic Things Fall Apart and listen to several things. Hear "Without a Doubt," which contains the first sample they used in the studio, coming of course, from a Philly native, Schoolly D and his song "Saturday Night". Also hear the two tracks that follow, "Ain't Sayin' Nothin' New" and my favorite "Double Trouble" featuring Mos Def. Don't forget about the big hit, "You Got Me" and the anthem "The Next Movement".

Long time member and second MC Malik B leaves the group prior to Phrenology, which finds the band taking great creative strides. Ben Kenney joins the group on guitar, allowing them to incorporate elements of rock in their studio sound. They score big time with "The Seed (2.0)" featuring Cody ChesnuTT on vocals. It becomes a cross over hit, getting regular airplay on alternative radio. They also reach out both stylistically and lyrically on "Water" lamenting the departure of Malik B and the challenge his drug addiction posed. "Sacrifice" and "Thought @ Work" are a couple of my favorites.

Kinney leaves to play in Incubus and long time member Scratch, who was their human turn table/noise machine, leaves as well. The Roots start jamming with Martin Luther and Kirk Douglas on guitar. The result is The Tipping Point. Shorter in length but certainly not lacking substance, the album includes the Sly Stone tribute in the song "Star," as well as Black Thought's excellent impersonations of Big Daddy Kane and Kool G Rap on "Boom!" and my favorites "Stay Cool" and "Web". This is clearly their most radio friendly album so far.

The band signs to Def Jam."Captain" Kirk Douglas stays. Martin Luther leaves. Kirk is a genius, by the way. Malik B returns, drug habit kicked and the band pushes that radio sound even further with Game Theory. I'm not a huge fan of this move, but it's still solid. Highlights for me include "Here I Come," "Long Time" featuring a re-energized Peedi Peedi and the darkest sounding cut of the band's career, "In the Music".

The darkness continues, as does the push for radio sounding hits. Consequently, Rising Down is the album I connect to the least. Apparently long time bass player Leonard "Hub" Hubbard felt the same way. He quits the band. No matter, they bring in guest MCs like Mos Def, Styles P, Common, Talib Kweli and Wale. I listen to the title track, featuring previously mentioned Mos Def and Styles P (who sounds completely inferior as a lyricist). I also listen to "75 Bars," "I Will Not Apologize" and "Criminal".

Then the band agrees to be Jimmy Fallon's house band on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. See June 25 post for their most recent antics.

Now, to prove Black Thought's lyrical wizardry, read these lyrics from "Ain't Sayin' Nothin' New":

Yo, head lost, sippin’ this Lambic Framboise
Spittin it for like whoever demand the answer
What’s the cure for this hip-hop cancer? Equivalent
to this avalanche of black snow, rap flow
to get my people thinkin mo’, we at the brink of war
What does it all mean? What’s it all for?
With knowledge of yourself, then you’re through the first door
My people hungry and thirst for more next music explore
It’s heavenly to your ebony daughter next door
So what you think The Roots get the world respect for?
The splendid authentic hip-hop that’s raw core
Severe, world premier, a superior sophomore
No doubt, wherever you dwell, that’s where the bomb fell
Explodin from the imperial en-sem-ble, for real
From the ven-ue to the avenue
We truly only got respect for a few, y’all ain’t sayin nuttin new

I mostly wanted to point out that he used Lambic Framboise in a lyric. That takes skill, and a deeper knowledge of beer. I appreciate both. This is by far the most self indulgent post I have written. I had fun.

y'all know who

Yes. The legendary Roots crew. They dropped their 9th studio disc this week, How I Got Over. I don't know what's gotten into me lately, but I have been breathing hip-hop. All the old school talk of the last few weeks has stuck with me. I've even gone so far as to investigate some of the newer cats in an effort to quench my thirst. No luck. T.I. can't seem to make a record that actually captures his greatness. Lupe Fiasco is interesting, but not mind blowing. Talib Kweli is dependable, although I almost gave up on him when Eardrum was released. When you start listing guest MCs AND the producers of each track on the outside of your packaging, you're pretty darn close to selling out. Kweli regained my trust with this years Reflection Eternal album, Revolutions Per Minute. And now to really hit that hip-hop sweet spot I've got How I Got Over.

I will admit, when I first heard the Roots were going to be the house band for Jimmy Fallon's late night show I instantly felt it was the end of the band. I didn't understand what ?uestlove and company were thinking. Then Hub quit the band and I really started to lose hope. I don't like it when founding members leave. It changes things. But maybe I just have an issue with change. This is a band that was known for their tireless touring, billed as the best show in the business (I can testify, it's extremely energetic and entertaining) and now they are stuck in New York five days a week for six months out of the year. However, around this time last year I caught a clip of the Roots performing their new song "How I Got Over" on Fallon's show and it suddenly made sense to me. Free air time. In those five minutes they played to their largest audience ever, through TV's across the country. They get to do this five nights a week. That's the kind of exposure most bands drool over. I still wasn't sure about Black Thought dressing up like a cast member of Star Trek and rapping about intergalactic pimping, but I decided maybe they knew something I didn't.

One listen to How I Got Over and I'm completely over the network television thing. It is an obvious return to greatness from one of my most beloved rap groups of all time (it helps that they're from Illadelph, but I can remember listening to '95s Do You Want More?!!??! on cassette after basketball practice in the D.C. suburbs). The album is easily their most cohesive, flowing from one track to the next effortlessly. The live drum sound that made them famous is back and as present as ever after being over taken by production grease and what seemed like a desire for more mainstream appeal on Rising Down and Game Theory. It's almost as if being forced to stay in one place (Fallon's show) has caused the band to regain a sense of who they are and allowed them to create a new sound that is both organic and modern. Perhaps this shouldn't be surprising. I have learned myself that new things are born from stillness. All the touring was necessary for financial purposes I'm sure, but I wonder what they would say about how it effected their ability to create new music.

How I Got Over finds Black Thought taking a more reserved role, sharing the mic with other home grown talent, like old time friend Dice Raw, and more recent addition Peedi Peedi (who has sounded like a completely different MC since joining the fold on Game Theory). Then there are totally new faces like STS, Blu (whose 2007 debut Below the Heavens is also quite good) and Indie darlings Joanna Newsome, Monsters of Folk and the Dirty Projectors. Those last few names certainly made me raise my eyebrows. How does that work? Rather well, actually. Their additions are subtle, with the exception of "Dear God 2.0" which is essentially a remix of the Monsters of Folk original but may also be the best track on this album. All of this makes it seem as if Black Thought has finally let go of his Jay-Z-status ambitions and is fully dedicated to the Roots vision in a way that we haven't heard since their classic Things Fall Apart. Maybe the regular spot light of late night television has satisfied Thought's desire for a broader audience, but whatever the reason he's figured out that less is often more. I found myself waiting for his turn on the mic while enjoying the change of pace when he passes it to one of his comrades.

This album is the whole package. The live sound blended with simple production techniques, the guest shots from familiar names and local unknowns and the refined work of a veteran crew who has really found their stride. My only complaint is the short running time, clocking in at just over 42 minutes it can really breeze by but perhaps that's most appropriate. It's lean, efficient and rediscovered.

new old school

When I was 11 years old I purchased my very first rap cassette, The Low End Theory by A Tribe Called Quest. That was in 1992. I have no idea where I got the money. It must have been from my allowance. I'm not sure how I managed to get to the store without an adult, but I can remember standing in front of the dusty wall of new and used tapes at the shop near my grandmother's house. My buddy Matt was with me. My guess is we had ridden our bikes or that my grandmother had taken us along on a run to the craft store and we decided to wait for her next door, eyes glued to the rap section. I didn't know what I was doing, of course. I understood about half of the lyrics. The other half just sounded cool.

I grew up on rap and hip-hop. I don't know why or how that happened. My folks listened to their share of Motown and Sam Cooke so, perhaps my exposure to that early soul music primed my ears for the soul-sampling sounds of 90's hip-hop. My parents certainly didn't approve. They didn't ban it either though, which I am grateful for. Perhaps that's just because they didn't listen to most of it. If they had my guess is they would have been completely repulsed. When I listen to Snoop Dogg's Doggystyle today I'm a bit repulsed myself. That album is a classic though and the music holds quite a bit of nostalgia for me. I spent countless hours with my friends listening to Wu-Tang, Dr. Dre, Biggie, 2Pac, Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, Mobb Deep, early Nas and Jay-Z and pretty much every other classic mainstream album from the mid-90's. I soaked it up like a sponge and I came to understand that in order to really appreciate most rap music you must have a working knowledge of it's history.

Unlike any other genre, except perhaps jazz, rap music regularly dips into it's past with name drops, beat samples and lyrical quotes. This is one of my absolute favorite things about rap. You can take one Isley Brothers sample and trace it's history through the past 20 years of hip-hop (I don't know the stats, but I'd wager that the Isley Brothers are the most sampled group in the history of music). I don't think it's an overstatement to say that I have an unusual knowledge of the history of rap music. That's not me bragging, it's just a fact. When you've been listening as long as I have you're bound to learn something. But another thing I love about rap is that there is always more to learn.

I listened to a lot of rap radio growing up. We didn't have the internet back then. It was the only way to hear new music. As a result, I missed out on a lot of great stuff happening in the underground. There was one weekly radio show dedicated to "underground" and unsigned hype but they really focused more on exclusives from established acts and when they did play something unknown they rarely took the time to tell you much about it. So, I've had to play a bit of catch up with a lot of the underground classics. Just last year I got into Breaking Atoms (1991) by Main Source. I had known about the posse cut "Live at the Barbeque" for a while but to be honest that's mostly because it features a young Nas in his very first recorded performance. I really wish I had heard this album 20 years ago. I may not have been ready for it though. I was too into gangsta rap and all it's sensationalism. Now that I'm older and a bit wiser I'm ready for something a little less profane and a little more thought provoking. Breaking Atoms is just that and it absolutely deserves to be recognized as one of the greatest rap albums of all time. I don't think many would argue with that. It's influence on production and sampling is widely known. I'd always heard the Large Professor's name dropped in other songs, never really familiar with who he was. Now I understand. He's one of rap's greatest producers. Not a bad lyricist either.

Last year I also took the time to check out Slick Rick's second, lesser known release The Ruler's Back (1991). I also decided it was time to dip into Return of the Boom Bap (1993) by KRS-One. Those are two great albums (ignore what the critics might say about The Ruler's Back). Most recently I embarked on a journey through the underground hall of fame that lead to a treasure trove of classic records I'd been missing. Most of the names were familiar to me. I'd heard of Souls of Mischief, Hieroglyphics, Organized Konfusion, Big L, The D.O.C., Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Kool G Rap, UGK, EPMD and, of course, Common. I never took the time to give most of their work a listen, despite how much the mainstream referred to them. Here's what I think you need to listen to straight away.


Common - Resurrection (1994)

Allow me to explain why I included Common and EPMD in the list above. I've been listening to Common for quite some time, but I got into him in 2000 with his major label release Like Water for Chocolate after reading that The Roots (whom I have followed from the very beginning) were big contributors to the production. This past weekend I acquired Common's second album, Resurrection. It is easily the best lyrical work I've heard from him and that's saying a lot because the man is gifted. I also particularly like how he takes it the rap industry, true to form.
*History lesson - This was Common's second full length produced largely by No I.D., who just so happened to be one of Kanye West's first mentors in the game. Perhaps now you'll better understand the relationship between Kanye and Common, who have worked closely together on projects for Kanye's GOOD Music, including Common's Grammy nominated gem "Be". Also, "Resurrection" was one of the few releases done under the name Common Sense, before a legal issue forced him to drop the Sense and just be Common.


EPMD - Strictly Business (1988)

As for EPMD I'll say this...of all the albums I have slept on, this is the one I am most ashamed of. This debut is pure gold. While Breaking Atoms is often credited as influencing the future production techniques of rap, I would argue that no other album has made a greater contribution to the art of sampling. Let me just run down some of the artist's work you may recognize here: Eric Clapton, Aretha Franklin, Otis Redding, Kool & the Gang, Beastie Boys, Pink Floyd, Steve Miller Band, ZZ Top, Rick James and EPMD (yes, they even sampled themselves). P. Diddy pretty much owes his entire career to Erick Sermon ("E") and Parrish Smith ("P" - "Making Dollars") because without them the kind of sampling that made Puff Daddy and the Family a success would not have existed. I've always known that Erick Sermon had an ear for tight production, mostly through his work with Redman, Keith Murray and the Def Squad. I really had no idea this duo was so great. I mean I knew they were good, but seriously, this is a great album.
*Trivia note - Each of EPMD's seven studio albums has the word "Business" in the title. Each album also includes a track with the name "Jane" in it's title.


Souls of Mischief - 93 'til Infinity (1993 - surprise!)

Now, here is where we dig deeper into the underground. While just about every other West Coast crew was jumping on the gangsta rap bandwagon, these four Oakland natives seemed to make a conscious choice to be un-gangsta. Not a great way to sell records, which is a shame because this is undoubtedly one of the best from the '90s. As a kid, I consistently ignored advertisements for this album, thinking they must not be any good because I hadn't heard them on the radio. I could not have been more wrong. To my ear, this sounds more like a lot of the East Coast releases from the decade. There's not much slow funk here. It bounces with jazz instead, reminiscent of early Tribe Called Quest. That fits the rhyme styles of A-Plus, Opio, Phesto D and Tajai though. They are quite adept at the fast-rap.*History Lesson - Souls of Mischief made up a large part of the also excellent collective Hieroglyphics, whose other members included Del tha Funkee Homosapien, Casual, Pep Love and Jaybiz.
**Bonus Trivia - Del tha Funkee Homosapien happens to be Ice Cube's cousin and is the MC you hear on Gorillaz self-titled debut. That's right, he's the voice of "Clint Eastwood". Classic!


Organized Konfusion - Organized Konfusion (1991)

You may remember a wicked sounding song sampling the theme from the original Godzilla that made it's way to radio in 1999 called "Simon Says". The chorus pretty much went like this..."Get the f**k up. Simon Says get the f**k up!". Well, that was Pharoahe Monch. What I didn't know then was that Monch was not new to the rap scene. He made his debut back in '91 as one half of the duo Organized Konfusion (the other half being Prince Po). These guys are rapper's rappers. They're the kind that like to have fun with words, when they're not attempting to school you on politics. And it all sounds so easy. Many like to draw comparisons to Breaking Atoms but to my ear Organized Konfusion is a lighter. The production is somewhat simpler and one of the singles was a track called "Who Stole My Last Piece of Chicken". I rest my case.
*Trivia Note/History Lesson - The only guest appearance on "Organized Konfusion," (which was self produced) was O.C. on the track "Fudge Pudge". O.C. went on to become a part of the Diggin' In The Crates (D.I.T.C.) crew, which featured heavy hitters Big L, Buckwild, Showbiz & A.G., Diamond D and Fat Joe. O.C. also released an underground classic himself with "Word...Life" in 1994.

while watching game three

I like old things from familiar places. Also, new things from old places. You will never hear me say that winning the NBA championship was the defining moment of my life or that holding the Larry O'Brien trophy felt like holding my newborn son. Maybe that's because I'm not seven feet tall with a custom built bed the size of a swimming pool.

I like where I'm from, but I like where I am more. Where I'm going is yet to be seen, but something tells me it will be likable. I see certain things through unbiased eyes. I see more through the influence of my past, regardless of how much the subject of my memories may have changed. Someday I hope to be better at seeing the things the way Thomas Merton did, from a quiet awareness of all life around me.

For the most part, I have a sharp memory. I notice things. I remember things. You might think I'm not listening or paying attention, but I can hear you. I realize I may be giving away a secret that often works in my favor, but I'm ready to let it go. Be careful what you say in my presence. I'm typing, I'm reading, I seem to be engaged in something else. I'm listening. I've been told that men can't multitask. I'm sorry, that's just not true.

I don't purchase beer based on cold indicators, bottle vortexes, wide mouth cans or cooler cases. Those are convenient, but I prefer to taste things as opposed to draining the bottle as quickly as possible. Bud Light, Coors Light is there a way you can direct your advertising elsewhere saving you money and me the irritation? When will I get to select my own commercials? I want to hear more about alternative energy sources and the next Outkast record.

My Morning Jacket has recorded five studio albums. For a long time I just pretended the first two didn't exist. That was a mistake. Learn from it. At Dawn was released in 2001. I was 20 years old. Ken Griffey Jr. was in his second season with the Cincinnati Reds. He hit .286 with 22 home runs and 65 RBI in 111 games.

When I was a kid and listening to underground hip hop shows in the D.C. metro area I always wondered where all the local talent was. There seemed to be little potential. The Questionmark Asylum. DJ Kool. Tracey Lee. None of them were known very far outside the red line (or the orange, or the blue or the green). Wale (pronounced "Wall A" and probably should get an accent mark but it's actually a shortened version of his first name "Olubowale," which does not contain an accent mark) is a rapper from D.C. He has one full length studio album in his discography. It's called Attention Deficit and it was released in 2009. I was 28. Junior Griffey was in his second tour with the Seattle Mariners. He hit .214 with 19 home runs and 57 RBI in 117 games (you could tell the end was near).

The Radio Dept. are an indie band from Lund, Sweden. I've been to Lund. It's a lovely town. They've released three full length albums since 2003. Not exactly efficient. Clinging to a Scheme was released on April 21 of this year. I was 29. Still am. Little did we know, The Kid was almost a month into what would be his final season. His numbers were pedestrian and it feels a little disrespectful to even mention them here.

Griffey is a future hall-of-famer. He retired last week. He was the last great player from my childhood. Somehow, as pure coincidence and as a result of unrelated events, I finally feel like an adult.
These are three albums I'm listening to.




It's a quiet album, a long way from Z so, be prepared. I like the banjo strummed "If It Smashes Down".




Wale likes to pay tribute to the local legends of Go-Go (If you're from D.C. then you know. If not, look it up). You're going to get a healthy helping of the conga drums. One of my favorites so far is "Mirrors" featuring UGK's Bun B, who sounds particular dapper. That's unusual.




It's brand spanking new to me. I'm liking "This Time Around" and "A Token of Gratitude".

royalty, birds and forgiveness

I have found myself with a whole lotta free time recently and I've spent a lot of it reading. I've learned things like Will Oldham first made music under various incarnations of the name "Palace". There was Palace Brothers, Palace Songs, Palace Music and plain old Palace. That was from 1993 to 1997. Then after one release under his birth name he became Bonnie "Prince" Billy. Now he's 39, bald and kind of ugly (sorry Will). I took to his 2008 release Lie Down in the Light rather quickly and still turn to it often. It's kind of quiet and sweet despite his imperfect voice and feels like the work of a much older folk musician. I have never listened to any of his other fifteen recordings as "Prince" Billy, even though I have five of them in my possession.

In my reading I have also learned that this band I've been listening to called Shearwater actually started as a side project of another band called Okkerville River. That band, Okkerville River, made an album I liked in 2007 called The Stage Names. In particular, the song "Our Life is Not a Movie or Maybe" became one of my favorites of that year. Now I'm getting to know Shearwater's 2008 release Rook. Shearwater was formed by Okkerville members Will Sheff and Jonathan Meiburg. As it turns out, Sheff is no longer a part of Shearwater and Meiburg is no longer a member of Okkerville River. I'm not sure why any of this is relevant, but I found it interesting. Something else that's interesting, "Shearwater" is the name of medium sized seabird. Meibug has a Master's degree in Ornithology (the study of birds). I'm assuming he choose the band name.

I read that the band Broken Social Scene is less like a band and more like an outlet for bored musicians. Founders Kevin Drew and Brendan Canning are the constants. Just about everything else is up in the air. Sometimes Feist is involved. Sometimes she's not. You're a member a Canadian indie band? You're in the neighborhood? There's an open mic for you! Members of Stars, Metric and Do Make Say Think are all contributors. BSS has a new album. It's called Forgiveness Rock Record. I like the title.

Bonnie "Prince" Billy's second album, Ease Down the Road, was released in 2001. It's noticeably different than the 2008 album I liked so much. On "A King at Night" he sings things like - Where is my queen, she's as gone as she can be. She was a fine looking lady and she liked to go down on me, and I liked to go down on her too. I think it's safe to say Ease Down the Road is not quite sweet. It seems a bit more bitter, but maybe that's just because I haven't gotten to know it well enough. Something tells me that songs like "Grand Dark Feeling of Emptiness" won't exactly change my mind.

Jonathan Meiburg does the singing and songwriting for Shearwater. He doesn't sound like your normal indie band leader. His voice is almost operatic. He displays great range on Rook, and his writing is more dramatic than anything I've heard from Will Sheff and Okkerville River. The result is a sprawling sound with Meiburg softly setting the stage at one turn and then calling the whole show down the next. Mirroring Meiburg's voice, Shearwater doesn't sound like your typical indie group. This is intelligent, mature music. They're a less folksy version of the Decemberists, putting on a Broadway musical instead of a Civil War reenactment.

Forgiveness Rock Record doesn't sound all that different from the previous two Broken Social Scene albums (You Forgot it in People and Broken Social Scene). That's a credit to Kevin Drew, Brendan Canning and the other handful of regulars. There is something slightly different about the way this record sounds though and I can't quite put my finger on it. After the first couple of listens it feels like it's missing a heart. It's still a big sound with lots of percussion and lots of layers, but something didn't make it in the pot when this one got thrown together. I'm hoping that listening to it more will prove me wrong, but I'm not so sure.

This is what I'm listening to this week, along with some Radiohead, Over the Rhine, The National and all the old school hip-hop Pandora can throw at me.



Bonnie "Prince" Billy - Ease Down the Road (2001)
I like "Just to See My Holly Home"




Shearwater - Rook (2008)
"The Snow Leopard" will give you a good sampling of their sound.




Broken Social Scene - Forgiveness Rock Record (2010)
The opener is nice, "World Sick"

audio addiction

I may have broken the rules. Just a little.

"Sorrow found me when I was young. Sorrow waited. Sorrow won."

The National's High Violet was not one of the three albums I selected to spend time with this week, but..

"I was carried to Ohio in a swarm of bees."

I just couldn't wait another week to check it out.

"I never thought about love when I thought about home."

Perhaps part of the problem is that Boxer was so excellent. I listened to it a lot. I went to see them in concert. I listened to it until it made me sick. Then I listened some more.

"Tired and wired we ruin too easy."

Then I spent all of my free time at work last week reading about their follow up. The New York Times website featured a lengthy article about the band and streamed the entire album a week before it's release. I read their Wikipedia page at least three times. Pitchfork followed the band's every move in anticipation of the new release and then predictably listed it as a one of the best offerings of the year the day it was dropped in stores.

"I'm a confident liar. Have my head in the oven so you know where I'll be. I try to be more romantic. I want to believe in everything you believe. I was less than amazing. I do not know what all the troubles are for. I fall asleep in your branches. You're the only thing I ever want anymore."

And what you may not realize about The National is that their music seeps into you like water until all the free space in your head has been filled with their lyrics. It's a slow process. A "Slow Show" if you will (that was in poor taste, I know). One listen is innocent enough. But you can't just listen once.

"I wanna hurry home to you, put on a slow, dumb show for you and crack you up so you can put a blue ribbon on my brain. God, I'm very very frightening. I'll over do it."

I won't go on about how unique Matt Berninger's baritone is. I won't bore you with ramblings about how his lyrics seem to be just as unique, confessing the thoughts and feelings of the committed, the married, the middle class, the suburbs, the bored and the exhausted. You don't need me to tell you how this separates The National from their fellow indie rock bands.

"With my kid on my shoulders I try not to hurt anybody I like."

In my opinion, it's obvious how and why this band is different.

"I still owe money, to the money, to the money I owe."

After four days of listening I wake up in the morning with these lyrics running through my head. Well, not just these lyrics. It's any number of words from both Boxer and High Violet because, of course, I had to go back and listen to Boxer to compare it to the new album.

"We're so disarming, darling. Everything we did believe is diving, diving, diving off the balcony."

It's usually just one line. Then another will pop up later in the day. Then another. I really have no choice but to listen to these songs over and over again, just to get the lyrics out of my head. But this is by no means torture. Somehow The National have found a way to make music that doesn't get old. I can't stop listening. I don't want to stop listening. It's about more than just the lyrics and Berninger's vocals, of course. The drumming is pristine. The piano and horns are sprinkled in just right. The steady roll of the guitars is perhaps just as mesmerizing as Berninger's baritone. It's the perfect storm. It's night time, you're "six drinks in" (as Pitchfork describes it) and this band has somehow made a soundtrack for a life that is not quite your own but is close enough to it that it's soothing.

"Nowhere that I thought I'd be by now. My head is a buzzing three star hotel."

They have a way of making things sound the way I often wish things would in my head.

"You're all humming live wires under your killing clothes. Get over here, I want to kiss your skinny throat."

So, consider this both a warning and a recommendation. It will stick with you. And you will like it.

"I was afraid I'd eat your brains, cause I'm evil."