WTF?

No, I’m not referring to Pope-gate. I mean, that’s definitely a WTF situation, but as I said before, I’m not going to go there. Let Catholics wrestle with their own embarrassments, I’ll try to be amused. Or even bondage-gate or whatever they’re calling it – definite amusement quotient there, but no commentary required.

What I’m talking about is Confederate History Month, because the brouhaha over celebrating rebel heritage is a real mind-blower. There are a helluva lot of Civil War buffs out there and probably even more Southerners who’ve been brought up to never forgive or forget the War of Northern Aggression. Meanwhile, everyone turns a blind eye to slavery as casus belli.

But wait a minute. We have in this country all these people living in the past to the extent of re-enacting it, but can you imagine Germans similarly celebrating the Third Reich? What makes the American experience so different? How come rednecks get to be sore losers when krauts don’t?

There’s no escaping the fact that Third Reich and the Confederacy were both established to uphold racism. Yet today the former is vilified but the latter continues to be celebrated. WTF? There seems to be a subtle difference between national shame and regional indignation. Germany wasn’t conquered per se, just defeated; and after the war, Germans woke up to the fact that they had murdered people who used to be their friends and neighbors and felt really shitty about it. The South, on the other hand, was brought to heel, reabsorbed back into a Union they wanted no part of; and its citizens were informed that they couldn’t have free labor from their darkies anymore and resented the hell out of it. Germans read Gunter Grass and wondered what had come over them. Southerners never accepted guilt, and they retaliated with the KKK and Jim Crow.

Doesn’t it all come down to education? Passing on indignation as part of the curriculum. Immediately after the war, Germans were taught about the evil men who had seized their country; but for generations, it would seem that Southern children have been urged to honor their forebears as heroes of states’ rights while glossing what was once euphemized as their “peculiar institution” – an inconvenient truth if ever there was one.

Today Germany is a paragon of democracy and decency (Joseph Ratzinger notwithstanding) where swastikas are outlawed. The South... I’m not so sure. As long as you still see the Confederate flag proudly displayed, it’s fair to wonder if the concept of liberty and justice for all will ever really take hold.

What do liberals have against tea?

A letter to the editor in the Flagstaff Daily Sun asks, “Why are liberals so opposed to the Tea Party movement? From what I see, the Tea Party stands for self-reliance, small government, less taxes, reduce the national debt and less interference on the part of the federal government in our daily lives. How can any sane person be opposed to these views? Do you liberals want high taxes? Do you want the government controlling every aspect of your lives? Are you afraid to stand on your own? Do you need the government to take care of you? Do you really believe you are entitled to what I have worked for? I hope you folks of the liberal persuasion think about what the current government is doing to our nation. If you have any common sense at all, you will agree with what the Tea Party is trying to do, which is get our country back on the road to be the nation we once were.”

Like Ronnie Raygun once said, “There you go again....” I hoped to have gotten my disdain for the TP movement out of my system, but since they’re likely to play a major role in this year’s elections – and since I even have friends who are sympathetic to the cause – I can’t help but rise to the bait of this letter.

Confining one’s arguments to these talking points is a have-you-stopped-beating-your-wife proposition. It’s true; taken separately, no sane person would contest them. But I’m not opposed to the ideas that you represent as much as to the collective impression that your movement makes. (1) It’s the height of hypocrisy to lambaste Obama for power-grabbing and bemoan escalating debt after the ravages of the previous administration – suggesting it’s just a poor-loser stance. (2) You take your marching orders from demagogues on a one-sided “news” outlet that laughingly calls itself “fair and balanced.” (3) You lionize a manipulatively homespun political personality who would be more clueless than W was (could that be possible?) if she ever became president. (4) Many of your fellow travelers are so preoccupied with issues like non-existent efforts to curb gun ownership or Obama’s birth certificate that it’s hard to take any of you seriously. (5) You would have to go some to convince me, given the kinds of people your movement attracts, that your belief that government should stay out of private lives extends to sexual and reproductive choice and to the decriminalization of marijuana.

Maybe the bottom line is, those of us of the liberal persuasion are more inclined to see government as a mechanism for solving problems, not as the enemy. It may very well require some tweaking along the lines you suggest – but that’s what representative government is supposed to be about, so let’s not throw out the baby with the bathwater. You’d rather starve it into submission than change it, but the small government/low taxes mantra just doesn’t fly anymore in a nation as large and complex as ours. Which version of “the nation we once were” did you have in mind? The fifties? Prohibition? The Jacksonian era? Or just any time when white male protestants called the shots?

All of this suggests: (6) Much like the participants in another Tea Party, you’re detached from reality. It’s time you tuned in to the big picture. The world is changing – physically, demographically, technologically – and we can’t turn back the clock to Happy Days.

Johnny, We Hardly Know Ya...

Jon Stewart tore John McCain a new one last night.

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It’s not like McCain doesn’t have a few new ones already courtesy of Stewart. The man flip-flops so much in his feeble attempts to placate whatever audience he’s addressing, he makes John Kerry look like the Rock of Gibraltar. 

It wasn’t always like that, of course. Those of us who saw McCain as someone who could unite the country back when he rode his “Straight Talk Express” in 2000 were horrified at W’s dismantling of his candidacy in South Carolina, then disillusioned by his sucking up to the man who bested him. Then in ’04 we thrilled at the thought of a Kerry-McCain ticket, but Mr. Country-First seemed to have 2008 in mind instead.

What makes Stewart’s take so compelling is the fact that he was once one of McCain’s biggest supporters and had him on The Daily Show so often that at one time he held the record for guest appearances. At the close of one interview following McCain’s failed candidacy, Stewart shook his hand vigorously and proclaimed “You are my president!” But ever since his presidential run with its pandering choice of a running mate, there’ve been no more McCain appearances on The Daily Show.

I’d wonder if McCain gets the message. But somehow I think he just doesn’t get anything at all anymore. Now he’s fighting for his political future and calling in favors from the person whose political career he fostered, just to save his sorry ass. (And by the way, he’s not really a maverick, folks.) But whenever it was that McCain traded straight talk for double talk, he kissed it all goodbye.

Let It Reign

A Sirius/XM deejay alerted me to the fact that The Who performed Quadrophenia last week for the first time in years – and what will probably be the last time ever.

[Sigh.]

It’s not that I regret not having seen it (and given the marketing surrounding the group there’ll likely be a DVD); it even sounds like the theatrics of the event made it slightly wince-inducing. And given how painful it was to watch the Super Bowl halftime show, I doubt that it would’ve been anything more than a nostalgia act. What makes me sigh is the fact that this is my all-time favorite rock album.

Some qualification is probably in order. I previously cited my admiration for Astral Weeks, but I don’t consider that to be “rock” even though that’s where you’ll find it categorized. (I almost said “that’s where you’ll find it shelved in stores” – what an antiquated concept!) And very early on in this blog I sang the praises of a bootleg Springsteen concert, which unquestionably is rock but as a recorded performance doesn’t really qualify for me as an “album.” And while there are albums that are great collections of songs – e.g. Bringing It All Back Home or Exile on Main Street – they aren’t discrete works like Sgt. Pepper or Dark Side of the Moon. Or Quadrophenia.

Others prefer Tommy, but I found that a bit sophomoric after a while, almost cutesy. “Thomas by the Whom,” as one college friend used to call it. Quadrophenia is admittedly somewhat lacking in universality, being a period piece having to do with the rivalry between mods and rockers in 60s England. (The movie helped make the story line a little easier to follow; only problem was it should’ve had subtitles for American viewers.) But you didn’t have to be there, because jeez, does it ever rock.

This is a compelling story by one of rock’s greatest songwriters. The first song sets the tone: “I went back to my mother, I said ‘I’m crazy, ma, help me.’ She said ‘I know how it feels son, ’cos it runs in the family’.... The girl I used to love lives in this yellow house. Yesterday she passed me by, she doesn’t want to know me now.... Can you see the real me, can you?”  Two discs worth of unforgettable tracks convey teen angst like few had before or have since. Then the concluding “Love, reign o’er me” delivers the best finale in rock since “I’d love to turn you on.” Every time the record ends, I feel exhausted.

But more than opera, Quadrophenia is a performance by a top band at the peak of its powers. Pete’s blistering guitar soars above never-inappropriate synth & brass. Keith and John are playing at full throttle, making any present-day performance lacking by their absence. And Roger’s voice reminds you why Led Zeppelin never really surpassed The Who as a power-trio-cum-singer. (Imagine the whole album sung by Pete; it just wouldn’t work.)

I didn’t even buy Quadrophenia when it was first released; it was a good six years later that I spotted it in a used record bin and thought I’d give it a listen. I had already turned 30, so it’s not as if there was any identification going on, let alone nostalgia for a time and place I’d never known. It’s just great, solid rock. And the best I’ve ever heard.

Easter/Not going there

Easter. Christendom’s big day. Jesus rose. From the dead? From a coma? Passover plot? Not going there. Too sensitive. Might antagonize. Blasphemy. Doom my immortal soul. Brrrrrr. Scary, kids. Not going there.

Easter. Pope’s lackeys say he’s getting a bum rap. Ugly gossip. Comparable to anti-Semitism. Uh-oh, politically incorrect. Not going there either. What about all those deaf kids? Didn’t Ratzinger know? Cover-up? Don’t go.

Easter candy. That’s better. Peeps. Jelly beans. Chocolate bunnies. Chocolate eggs. “Chocolate Jesus” by Tom Waits. (Good song, but maybe better not go there.) 

Easter eggs. Hard boiled. Mickey Spillane. Noir. Noir eggs? Maybe an Easter omelet instead? What in an Easter omelet? Diced peeps!

Easter seals. Easter otters? Easter manatees? Easter walruses? I am the Easter eggman, therefore I am the Easter walrus.

Easter. Oyster. Venus on the half shell, Jesus on an oyster shell? Definitely best not go there. Jesus’s face on a grilled-cheese sandwich? Or was that the Virgin Mary? Don’t go there. Oyster bunny? Go there later maybe.

Easter bread. (Yeasty bread?) Feast of bread! Beast named Fred. Not worth going there.

Easter, Wester, Norther, Souther. J.D. Souther wrote for the Eagles. Easter Eagles? Easter beagles? Send them into the fields to sniff out hidden Easter eggs like pigs do truffles. Or chocolate truffles as Easter candy.

Easter Island. Rapa Nui. Funny statues. Aku-Aku. South Pacific. Richard Rodgers. “Bloody Mary.” Getting thirsty. Better go there.

Freedom’s just another word for bein’ able to buy beer on Sunday.

It appears that Arizona is taking a bold step forward into the twentieth century. State legislators are laying the groundwork to rescind restrictions on Sunday liquor sales.

It’s not as if it’s been exactly puritanical. We’re already a far cry from Pennsylvania, as I’ve noted before. But when one becomes used to picking up a six-pack or a bottle of wine at the grocery store, it’s been a bit of a hassle to remember on Sunday that you can’t buy it until after 10. So much for getting that shopping trip out of the way early.

Now we’ve got a Democrat from Tucson touting the additional tax revenues for the state (as if people weren’t going to buy the booze later anyway) and also the advantage of allowing hotel maids to restock mini-bars (is this tossing a bone to labor or what?); and a Republican from Paradise Valley applauding the freedom to buy booze without the government saying when you can and can’t. I’m just waiting for some loony from Mesa to take the opposing viewpoint in support of public morality.

Don’t forget, this is the state that sold its capitol building in a leaseback deal and closed interstate rest stops. I don’t think many citizens will be fazed by ownership technicalities concerning architecture, but I for one feel the strain on my bladder out in the middle of nowhere. And if we get to start drinking earlier on Sundays, it’s only going to become more painful.

As one person commented, it’s all very well to champion the freedom to buy booze, but how about pot? Freedom has its limits, after all – or does it? That will be a real test for the libertarian right, because if California votes for legalization this fall, tourism is sure to surge in Needles, Blythe, and tiny Winterhaven. Then wait and see how the Arizona legislature feels about lost revenue opportunities....

Voices in My Head

No, I’m not talking about Julian Jaynes again, nor the persuasive pronouncements of pundits and politicians, just the singers I’ve come to like.

We were having lunch the other day when the sat-rad played some early Dylan. Had we been closer to the receiver, I might have changed the channel because I know that Beth isn’t particularly fond of his voice. It’s not hard to understand why; when he first burst upon the scene, most people couldn’t fathom the appeal of somebody who couldn’t really carry a tune while others of us were entranced by the raw honesty of that voice (although I confess that I find little to like in it today).

It’s all a matter of taste when it comes to voices, and it’s hard to say what it is we’re reacting to. Familiarity? Excitement? Exoticism? Eroticism? I personally don’t care for the sound of operatic arias, c&w twang, or heavy metal pretentions, while some folks probably can’t tolerate jazz phrasings or understand what anybody ever heard in Captain Beefheart. I know a couple of people who react violently to the sound of Neil Young, but let me hear that mincing voice of the lead singer from Supertramp and I’ll run screaming from the room. And while Bob Weir might be considered normal by most, he’s enough to keep me from having the Grateful Dead channel on if I’m not within reach of the remote.

Many of the singers I enjoy – Dylan, Bruce, Neil, Joni – are so tied to their own songs that I can’t swear I’d enjoy hearing them do just anything. But there are certain singers I admire purely as vocalists; they could sing the phone book and I’d love it. I’ll listen to anything by David Bromberg or Mose Allison, and you can’t touch Tom Rush or Judy Collins for smooth. Rickie Lee Jones sometimes sounds like she’s just had novocaine, but she can do playful or sultry. And Joss Stone proved to me that it’s possible to be a geezer and love young music. But four vocalists in particular stand head & shoulders above the rest.

I don’t know that I would have guessed 40 years ago that Van Morrison would have such staying power. Astral Weeks remains one of my half-dozen all-time favorite albums, and everything since then has confirmed his brilliance. His work is a balance of mysticism and raw energy that few others can manage – especially on classic long tracks like “You Don’t Pull No Punches, But You Don’t Push the River.” If I had to scout out a new radio station, my first question would be whether they played Van Morrison (and not just “Brown Eyed Girl”).

I had never heard of Cassandra Wilson until I saw her interviewed in Ken Burns’s PBS series on jazz. I bought a CD; then another; then another.... It’s not just that her smoky voice in itself is mesmerizing, she has a real knack for choosing material – everything from “Strange Fruit” to the Monkees’ “Last Train to Clarksville on one album, then another devoted solely to Miles Davis. Her take on Van’s “Tupelo Honey” is typically awesome.



My first impression of Diana Krall was that she was just some cupcake lounge singer; then I saw her on the old “BET on Jazz” network and wised up. I shouldn’t hold her looks against her, because her talent is phenomenal – standards never sounded better. (And not only classic jazz – think “Just the Way You Are” without the “wo-wo-wo.”) It’s not just that she has an incredible voice, she has an uncanny instinct for phrasing and her piano playing is impeccable. I just want to know what she sees in Elvis Costello.

I’ve been a fan of Ray Charles ever since I was in high school. I used to take his albums to parties and try to get my friends to listen, but Motown usually won out; they didn’t know he practically invented soul music. Whether singing blues or country, wailing with a band or crooning with strings, he raised the bar for singers in a career that spanned six decades. And in his final studio album, Genius Loves Company, one of the duets featured Diana Krall....




I guess what surprises me about these favorites is the absence of rock artists (since Morrison’s “Caledonia Soul” is more r&b). Rod Stewart or Patti Smith may come close. But these four consistently deliver.