Tinsley Ellis’ Newest Album Presents the Naked Truth About the Blues
https://www.artsatl.org/tinsley-ellis-newest-album-presents-the-naked-truth-about-the-blues/
Book Review Hands of Gold: Hands of Gold: One Man’s Quest to Find the Silver Lining in Misfortune
Sam Fox, the main character in “Hands of Gold: One Man’s Quest to Find the Silver Lining in Misfortune,” is an imperfect man who navigates through the challenges of life just like all the rest of us. Sometimes he’s a putz. Other times a mensch. He laments. He celebrates. He questions. What’s so remarkable? you almost hear him saying in the Yiddish-sprinkled vernacular that author Roni Robbins captures so well. Between the lines, however, is simple but profound wisdom on living that transcends time, place, and even culture.
Twenty years in the making, the book has been a labor of love. Although slight variances in details and changes in names classify the book as a work of fiction, Robbins sought to create a story based on the life of her Jewish immigrant grandfather using recordings he made shortly before his death.
The book is divided into three sections. The beginning details life in Hungary in the first few decades of the 20th century. Between his youthful antics, conflicts with family members, and the first blooms of romance are the shadows of antisemitism that will eventually claim the lives of family members in Auschwitz. The second part details his life from the time he arrives in North America. He carves out a career, marries the woman he loves, and raises a family with her– all while fighting to recover from a chronic illness. The last section picks up after World War II and describes the aftermath of the Holocaust, his pride in his grown children, and the sunset of a 65-year marriage.
Sam arrives in America with little more than the clothes on his back and struggles with having little in the way of language, skills, or money, but despite these difficulties he is forever thankful for the opportunity: The melting pot of America extends this right to speak my mind and hold strong to my religious beliefs, and I take those privileges seriously as they are not so readily available elsewhere….If you only knew how difficult it was to even get to this country....You don’t know about freedom like I know about freedom.” With determination, an eye for opportunity, and a little luck he becomes a successful tailor.
He finds like-minded persistence in Hannah, the woman who becomes his wife, and together they navigate the challenges of raising a family despite limited means. When Sam develops tuberculosis, their financial circumstances become even more dire, and many times they go without food so that their children can eat. And just when things begin to go well for them, new challenges come along. “If there’s something I’ve learned,” says Sam,” it’s that some days start out badly and don’t get any better. Other days are quite momentous, and you have to hold tight to those. Be thankful for every day you experience love and blessings, because you never know when your faith will be tested again”.
The faith they shared was at the center of the life he and Hannah built together. Sam describes it as, “a commitment to Judaism that is passed down over generations, through holiday celebrations and attendance in Hebrew school and family gatherings. How important it was for our faith to continue after all our people had been through.” These common beliefs help to form a bond between them that lasts a lifetime. Robbins calls their love story, in which they died exactly a year apart, “almost too real to be true, but it was.”
Robbins sees parallels in the events of the book and the present day. “We think the past is the past, but we're going to repeat it if we don't take notice of the struggles that people went through,” she said. She hopes that her book will strike a chord among people of all faiths, and, in some small way, help to relieve prejudice and its effects around the world. “Maybe the way to try to combat hatred is to have a better understanding and education of people who are different,” she said.
Several of Sam’s siblings and many nieces and nephews were murdered in the hatred that became the Holocaust, and Sam spends a lifetime wondering why he didn’t see it coming and what he should have done. “How could it be believed that such atrocities would take place, that human beings could be so evil to others? It’s a somber reminder to take notice of what is going on around us.
“Ultimately, I’d face the same trite questions as other survivors,” Sam says, “Why them and not me? Why didn’t God intervene?” But despite these questions with no answers, he carries on: “When I get up in the morning, when I go to sleep, I tell the Almighty what I think, how grateful I am to be alive and to have my family. I still fight with Him; question why bad things happen to good people and the like. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been questioning…and yet, I hold out for hope”.
Both the life detailed in this story and the act of writing the story exemplify the Jewish concept of mitzvah -- acts of righteousness that bring light to the world. Sam has done little that could be characterized as remarkable, and he is not a perfect man, yet by living a life in which hardships are faced with chutzpah, family and faith are prioritized, and blessings are counted all the while, his story offers a roadmap to living a meaningful life. Robbins has faithfully rendered such a life and, in so doing, reminds us that anyone can be a hero simply by choosing our response to our circumstances.
We can learn much from the story of Sam. “God and I understand each other, I think,” he says. “He doesn’t talk back to me directly, but I get this overwhelming message in my mind in talking it over with myself: Just do what you have to do as best as you know how.”
Robbins will be discussing and signing copies of her book on March 9 at Barnes and Noble, 4475 Roswell Road, Marietta, GA 30062. Details of the even can be found here: https://stores.barnesandnoble.com/event/9780062165909-0
Book review: Brothers and Sisters: The Allman Brothers Band and the Inside Story of the Album That Defined the ‘70’s.
Alan Paul is the undisputed expert on the Allman Brothers Band – just note the compendium of band members, prominent journalists, and others who weigh in on the back jacket of his newest book Brothers and Sisters: The Allman Brothers Band and the Inside Story of the Album That Defined the ‘70’s.
Paul’s first book on the Allman Brothers Band, the best-selling One Way Out, was a series of polyphonic compositions, each chapter beginning with brief commentary along a chronological theme then bolstered by multiple first-person accounts. Rather than the Rashomon-like dubiety that might be expected from such a narrative approach, the individual perspectives cumulatively created a mosaic that offered a more comprehensible picture of the band over time.
This newest venture is different. Paul takes deep detours into territory as divergent as the Carter presidential campaign, the band’s reciprocal relationships with the Grateful Dead and Bob Dylan, and Cameron Crowe’s account of how he got the interview with Gregg immortalized in the film Almost Famous. There are intricate details on deals made and lost and trivia on ticket prices, audience counts, and even numbers of concessions sold at particular shows. It’s a mashup of hundreds of hours of recovered interviews with band members and others along with a plethora of secondary sources that include commentary on and from a Tolstoy-worthy range of characters. In One Way Out, you can count the groove lines on the vinyl. For this one, you need to just sit loose and enjoy the jam.
That’s not to say that there isn’t an overall theme floating over and under and all around all the sound bites. In Paul’s hands, this meticulously researched foray into the Allman Brothers Band at a particular moment in time is a story of loss and survival that transcends the tale of a band from south Georgia.
The book begins with a brief history of the original band, who are riding high and fast having just completed their monumental Fillmore East debut - until it all comes to a screeching and unexpected halt. The rest of book covers the years from 1971-1976, right after guitarist Duane Allman’s passing and the death of bassist Berry Oakley a year later. The band could have, and should have, come to a fatal end as well, but it didn’t. Paul details how original members Gregg Allman, Dickey Betts, Jaimoe, and Butch Trucks and new members Lamar Williams and Chuck Leavell reinvented the band resulting in a sound that, to many ears, was even better than what had come before.
After the deaths of Allman and Oakley, the remaining band members were “dealing with exhaustion, pent-up anger, pain, and sadness,” Paul explains, “chasing the glowing, flickering, mythical memory of a golden moment.” He details addictions and attempts at rehab, impulsive marriages and bitter breakups, betrayals and reconciliations, deals that worked and others that nearly broke them.
There is plenty on the contributions of new members Leavell and Williams, the creativity and exploration of new sounds, and the willingness of the entire band to pick themselves up over and over again, with push worthy of a Jaimoe/Trucks solo. The effort to survive and thrive was a collective one. “Even though we have had two great losses, we were still a family,” Gregory Allman explained in a 1974 interview.
The family may have been, at many times, dysfunctional, but they never forgot their bond. The album that emerged from the band’s struggles was aptly named Brothers and Sisters, and it is a fitting title for Paul’s book as well.
The musical equivalent of the story told in this book might be the band’s 1973 Winterland performance of Les Brers in A Minor. The instrumental begins with faltering melodies and anemic rhythms. Then Williams’ bass comes in to pick things up off the floor, and Betts’ melody line becomes stronger and more pronounced. Allman finds his sound on the organ, and Leavell gets everyone high again with buoyant keywork. Stop-time has Trucks and Jaimoe carry things on by themselves awhile, before Betts brings everyone back in for a cocky, flamboyant, and ultimately triumphant ending. It’s non-linear and unpredictable, a monumental jam clocking in at a full 25 minutes.
Maybe the best music is that way - an extended jam going on in different directions with just enough epoxy to send you on the adventure without getting you too lost. You aren’t really quite sure what’s happening until it’s done, but, when it is, you come away with appreciation knowing that it’s changed you for the better.
That’s the story told in this book, and it might well be the story of all of us. In the same way, Paul’s book is a satisfying jam that will please not only fans of the Allman Brothers Band but anyone else who enjoys a good story.
Brothers and Sisters: The Allman Brothers Band and the Inside Story of the Album That Defined the ‘70’s by Alan Paul is available on Amazon for pre-order anticipating its July 28 release.
Roger Brained: The Stairwell Sessions Album Review by Jeremy Glass
https://rogerbrainard.bandcamp.com/album/live-at-the-well
Artist: Roger Brainard
Title: The Stairwell Sessions
As the first silvery strums on the acoustic guitar issued forth into my headphones, followed by a completely unique voice, pitched somewhere between a purr and a growl, two thoughts struck me; here is an artist who makes no concessions in his art and song craft to glib accessibility, and this is the sound of modern Gothic Americana. A unique and fascinating voice that can be oddly soothing and then drip with the bitter taste of hopeless loss. With a keen focus on presenting his songs the way that he wants to, knowing the subtle inflections of his voice will convey the emotions he wants to emphasize, I couldn't help but be reminded of Leonard Cohen. Like Cohen, Brainard knows the words have a power that doesn't need to be glossed over in slick production. In fact, I believe the entire record was recorded, with one microphone, in a concrete stairwell! But more on that later.
First, the evidence:
1. Sometimes in the Dark - Challenging and Gothic to its core – “and I think about Jesus,
and the things that he said, and they say he was a good man, but he ended up dead", followed by the repeating lament;
"sometimes in the dark I can see real clear" - the lyrics further reveal that perhaps the loss of any desired connection simply cannot be fixed by the “power of positive thinking”,
and that sometimes negative feelings about a situation are, in fact, truth!
2. Angelina – Lovely chords and fingerpicking open the song, a musical mood not dissimilar to “House of the Rising Sun”. Again sadness and unrelenting devastation are Mr. Brainards riding partners, and he smoothly reveals
a voice of outrage, eloquently singing about the horrific acts of violence and betrayal committed by the United States against the indigenous people, (who had everything taken from them). Brainards’ touch is so deft
that the end effect is serious, (without being heavy handed).
3. Addiction - a harrowing and honest examination of the insidious nature of addiction, and one this reviewer can relate to on a very personal level. The following couplet revealed to me a world of understanding and empathy
from Mr. Brainards pen:
"With Battle cries and Lullabies
On these broken wings I can barely fly
I tried to circle my wagon like I've done before
But I wound up knocking on your back door"
The above verse hit me in the teeth, the way great art sometimes will!
4. Death Came by to See Me Yesterday - whistling by the graveyard, the artist manages to lyrically engage in a heavy topic, even inject it with a little humor. The small miracle of this tune is it sounds like an authentic ‘murder ballad’ from the Appalachian mountains in the 40’s or 50’s. In other words, timeless!
5. Bird That Doesn’t Sing For Me – I interpret this as a song about becoming alive again, of noticing the
condition of the beings around us, troubled by not hearing a bird that usually sings by his window, of the small and sometimes deceptively incongruous steps that lead us back to being our healthy self once more. Somehow Mr. Brainard brings this feeling back around to the devastating final line:
"Tonight my mind is full of the song she doesn’t sing for me".
Because as beings trying to return to the light, we must prepare ourselves for the inevitable heartbreak and loss that is a part of any life. This is my favorite on the record!
All of the songs on “The Stairwell Sessions” have something unique to offer, and the re-working of “Ring of Fire” is first rate, but the above songs spoke a little more loudly than the others after weeks of immersion.
One small criticism, and I want to make clear that this is only my humble opinion:
All Things Must Pass” by George Harrison is probably my 1st or 2nd favorite album of all time, I cherish it. And it has too much reverb on it! The songs on “All Things Must Pass” are occasionally in danger of being swallowed by the effects of Phil Spector; George himself was never entirely happy with this aspect of what became known as his personal artistic triumph. The quality and the sincerity of the tracks saved the songs from being swallowed.
Happily Roger Brainard’s’ songwriting and ‘take no prisoners delivery’ keep “The Stairwell Sessions” from capsizing under the enormous weight of the concrete and natural reverb. Great idea, I just would have loved to hear it dialed back about 50%. On a few of the tunes the production idea veers dangerously close to gimmick, and I am certain that was not the intention of the artist!
But hey, what do I know? Overall, this is a thought-provoking and often brilliant album, a relevant and sometimes shocking treatise on the current human condition.
Bravo Mr. Brainard, I look forward to hearing more from you!
Guest Column: Jeremy Glass Weighs In on Lars Nagel’s Tomorrow Never Knows
Local Musicians
Released Music Reviews
by Jeremy Glass
https://larsnagel.bandcamp.com/album/tomorrow-never-knows
Artist: Lars Nagel
Title: Tomorrow Never Knows
Single or LP: LP, (10 songs)
Review Date:12-31-22
Lars Nagel/ Tomorrow Never Knows
Self-doubt, melancholy, visions of mortality, alarm over the opioid epidemic, grieving over loved ones who have passed, disgust with a society that, for want of a better description, doesn't give a crap – all delivered in catchy, easy on the ear, often upbeat little insulated packages of melody and arrangement. With Tomorrow Never Knows, Lars Nagel pulls off a compositional sleight of hand that many songwriters strive for, but few ever achieve: Writing songs that have instant appeal, musically upbeat and loaded with hooks that have a vague familiarity, relaxed in delivery and conveying the joy the musicians appear to be having. A good album to play at a party, or at dinner with friends, songs that feel good, enough edges to grab a hold of, but nothing musically jarring. Bobbing your head to the country swing of, say, “Fools Way Home”, tapping your foot to “Johnny Was Right”, maybe even singing along to the catchy choruses.
And then it hits you: the sunny song platforms are delivering songs that touch on death, madness, drug dependency, broken relationships, wasted opportunities and the lack of human compassion in today's post-covid landscape.
Neat trick, huh? I call it compositional depth. The layers are there for those who choose to explore them.
Lars Nagel not only pulls it off, he makes it seem effortless.
Before we look at the individual songs, a little back story:
All I really knew about Lars Nagels’ musical background, (before I became familiar with his solo career through the Kimono My House livestreaming concerts), was his being a member of the legendary Atlanta band “El Caminos”, and I didn’t really know much about them, although I knew they had a big guitar sound. So I was a little surprised by Lars’ solo work, which has a laid back, almost Americana flavor to it. That being said, there are some great moments of wonderfully nasty guitar sprinkled through some of the songs.
The production and execution are first rate; laid back but still full of energy, never sterile in any way, and delivered with the confidence of an artist who knows he is delivering the goods. He is assisted by several of his talented Kimono My House cohorts; Tom Cheshire, (the tireless legend and front man of the bands “West End Motel”, and “TCB”, among others), plays percussion and sings backup; Diane Coll, (the silken voiced singer/songwriter who released her debut album, the brilliantly sublime “Happy Fish” in 2022), adds backing vocals as does Heidi Jones-Hildreth with her uncanny sense of harmony. As I didn’t see any credits for the album, I’m sure I’m missing some other key contributors, so I apologize if I didn’t credit you!
Let’s talk about the songs on “Tomorrow Never Knows”.
"Years Gone By" the opening track, sets the tone for the rest of the record with its catchy melody and thought-provoking lyrics. Despite its sunny, easy-on-the-ear vibe, the song's lyrics betray a restless dissatisfaction with being unable, or unwilling to appreciate the moment we are living in. The line "stop your living for tomorrow - and your wishes for yesterday" reflects the way that often we focus on the future or the past instead of embracing the present and encourages listeners to make the most of their lives. Overall, "Years Gone By" is a strong opening track that displays Nagel's ability to balance catchy melodies with introspective lyrics.
“Johnny Was Right”- Pouncing out of the gate in a furious country shuffle, the song pays homage to "Can’t Wrap Your Arms Around a Memory”, Johnny Thunders cautionary tale about drug over-indulgence, made all the more poignant by Thunders own drug related death. The guitar solo rages! Nagel sounds pissed off, and rightfully so: The pandemic was especially hard on folks caught in the nightmare of opioid addiction.
“Fools Way Home” - A lovely melodic ballad with country overtones, “Fools Way Home”, explores themes of identity and the human condition, particularly the sense of loss and impermanence that can come with aging and approaching death, the feeling of struggling to hold onto one's sense of self as time passes and the world changes, illustrated perfectly in this lyric, “Do you even recognize my face, cause maybe I don't”.
“Love Don’t Live Here Anymore”- “Where can we go if we could work things out tonight”. What a chilling lyric. To me the question answers itself – nowhere. Touching on the heartbreaking feeling of a once special relationship that has used all of its lives as it coasts to an ending. “Any fool can tell we’re out of time, …….go your way and I’ll go mine”, a nice little side reference to Bob Dylan. Great pedal steel sounds throughout.
“You will never change” - charging driving rocker-
great electric riff that kicks the song into high gear every time it appears. “You will never change”, "covid empty with a heart so full of hate" – great zingers, (think I’ll try to stay on Mr. Nagels’ good side!).
“Now That You’ve Left Me” – This one brought me to tears, it’s not what I expected based on the song title and should be closely examined in solitude. It is a damn near perfect song. Enough said.
“Old Photographs” -
Begins with a journey from Stockholm to LA – and references California in the 70’s perfectly, while also asking bigger questions about destiny, will and the memories we cherish. "You can no longer take me there/ I can't feel that you are near"- "but I’ve got old photographs and glasses of beer" – and we have this wonderful song that transports us to the memories we hold dear.
The other three songs on this cohesive triumph of a record are equally great, but I would be remiss if I didn’t let the listener approach some of the compositions with their own point of reference.
Lars Nagel has created an impressive, joyful, gut-wrenching, heartbreaking, euphoric musical landscape with “Tomorrow Never Knows”. His playing is first rate, sometimes visceral, and he uses his voice in ways that make him completely unique; the only artist he occasionally reminds me of, in his writing and singing, and in his fearless truth telling is none other than T. Bone Burnett. Mainly it’s the honesty and integrity that Lars Nagel uses in sharing his thoughts.
Thank you, Lars Nagel, I’m looking forward to your next record!
The Genius of Duane Allman
Profound moments, those when we feel the beauty, and elation of existence, are rare and far between. These moments might hit you like a gust of wind out of nowhere when you are in a beautiful place or with someone you love. For some, they might come through prayer or meditation. And for others, they come through music.
Those who experience music this way live for those moments when it becomes not just music but a passageway to the mystical - a reminder that we are not alone in our pain and that there is something lovely beyond our immediate realm of existence. Duane Allman seemed to possess such an otherworldly connection. In his relatively short career, Duane could communicate to a place within us that words can’t reach and wouldn’t be sufficient even if they could. He communicated through music the most profound of life’s emotions from confusion, sorrow, and guilt to peace, love, and awe.
Gregory and Duane exemplified the mythic nature of the almost-twins they were – each portraying a different side of God, as the Greeks might have said. Duane’s octave-swooping slides on Whipping Post capture the unrelenting feeling of being run down and lied to over and over again that Gregory so blatantly puts into words. In Not My Cross To Bear, Duane’s elegiac response to the verbal calls of Gregory is as bluesy as it gets -a weary lyrical declaration somewhere between pleading for understanding that he’s done all he can in a failing relationship, yet not quite sure if he really has. Similarly, In Goin’ Down Slow, the reverb, strategic rests, and paradoxical alternations of major and minor guitar chords reiterate Gregory’s enigma of whether or not he’s lived a good life.
Like salt, Duane intensified the piquancy of anyone he played with. Boz Scaggs sings that he’s crying on Loan Me a Dime, but it is Duane’s guitar that actually does cry. He’s every bit Aretha’s equal in his musical assertion that no, indeed, Life Ain’t Fair.
But while Duane captured so clearly universal feelings of pain and hopelessness, he also captured life’s flip side. The sentiment in Hey Jude is only somewhat convincing, until about ¾ of the way through when Duane sweeps in, reaching down into the depths of Wilson’s soul and pulling out a cogent scream that would convince anyone that things will, eventually, be okay. About 3/4 of the way through Mountain Jam, breathless glissando with alternations of sustained notes and scale climbing create a revelry at the majesty of God’s creation and the thrill of being alive, soaring high and free before peacefully gliding above the earth and its temporary sorrows.
But the most sublime Duane moment might very well be the second half of Layla. In the first half of Eric Clapton’s heartbreaking rendering of his betrayal of a good friend, subsequent guilt, and confusions at love unrequited, Duane comes in like a tempest intensifying the frenzied tangle of a ravenous soul that can’t get what it wants and didn’t just find that it gets what it needs. It could be the darkest night of anyone’s soul: those who have done things we are ashamed of, those who have watched helplessly as loved ones suffer and die, those whose hearts have been crushed and those who have unwittingly been the crusher, and those whose prayers seem to float away in the air like so many colored balloons lost somewhere in the clouds. Like the pain of life itself, it goes on and on, nearly 3 ½ minutes, until we wonder if it will ever end.
But then the simple piano interlude says to just hush and hold on a second. And Duane comes in, sliding up and down the octave covering us and recovering us with a warm blanket and rocking us to sleep just under that piano refrain. Even when it seems like it should end around at around 6 minutes, he just keeps telling us over and over in this gentle melody that there is a place of peace and love beyond it all.
The Layla solo is nothing less than a musical rendering of the faith and hope: a knowing that we are not alone, and, that as dark as things can be, there is a lullaby waiting at the end.
And the song finally ends, like all things will, fittingly, with a birdcall reminder that we will someday be carried to this place on heavenly wings.
Thank you, Duane. Sleep well in the land of the angels.
Dear Beatles: A Love Letter and a Review of the film Get Back
This is my third iteration- I cut out about 2/3 of it - I realized that I need an editor, or else I write a thesis! If you want the full version, just message me: showrey3@gmail.com.
The subjects of the film Get Back are so iconic, and their breakup was so earthshattering, that it’s easy to get lost in the bookend questions of what drove them apart. But the deeper, more universal question, and the one that makes this film so special, is, “How do we proceed when the end is inevitable?” The film is mostly John’s and Paul’s story. It is also ours.
We begin with a nostalgic slideshow of video clips and music from the Beatles’ early days. It’s impossible not to feel their joy in being young and together, in creating and performing as a group. But as the music and memories fade, we enter an empty open warehouse space– a blank slate for a band whose private world has undergone some drastic changes.
Brian has been gone for over a year, and Paul is the reluctant heir apparent. Yoko has become the center of John’s universe. George is questioning whether or not he’s living a life of authenticity. Ringo, who just wants peace and love is depressed.
*********
Nonetheless, they begin the sessions by trying gamely to get back to where they once belonged. They pull out their old stuff. They try a few new ones. But soon they all realize that it’s just not fun anymore, and the creative juices are not flowing. George’s guitar ominously falls down, and the cymbals on Ringo’s drum kit come crashing to the floor. Everyone looks miserable.
George tentatively shares a song-in-progress, and the response is lackluster, if not plain rude. He announces that he’s quitting the band.
“It’s just that being together thing,” says Paul, looking into the distance.
Many times I've been alone
And many times I've cried
Anyway, you'll never know
The many ways I've tried
***********
Where to go from here? They try to convince George to return, but It Did Not Go Well, the filmmakers tell us. Only Ringo and Paul show the next day. “And then there were two”, says Paul, his eyes a confusion of thunderstorms and rain clouds.
Don’t leave me waiting here
Lead me to your door
John finally shows up, and he and Paul have a private chat.
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letterbox they
They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe
They return to the studio, and get to work. Ringo does his part, but the songs still aren’t coming.
Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup
They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe
Paul and John try to out-clever one another with sarcastic barbs.
*******
George returns. The band still sounds like shit. John sings the end of a beautiful friendship. Paul, fed-up, retreats to his newspaper and reads aloud, like a newscaster:
‘Everything in the Beatles garden was rosy…but that was a LONG TIME AGO. They went their own private ways, found their OWN FRIENDS, and became LESS RELIENT on each other for GUIDANCE and COMRADESHIP’.
John begins to play over him, Geoge and Ringo join in, intending to drown him out, but Paul just reads louder. Paul reads on, unabated:
‘They’ll stay together because of the economic necessity…. IT”S ALL OVER. THEY WILL NEVER BE EXACTLY THE SAME AGAIN.’
The road crew looks away, and it is clear that the band has hit bottom. And this, I believe, is the point at which the Beatles may have quit entirely, or, worse, produced music the equivalent of stale bread.
But that’s not what happened. Instead, they created some of their best work of all time. Because, I believe, at this point John decides to listen, really listen, to Paul, and this is what he hears this, though perhaps not in so many words:
The wild and windy night
That the rain washed away
Has left a pool of tears
Crying for the day
Why leave me standing here?
Let me know the way
And then, I think, this is what this happened in John’s mind:
Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes
They call me on and on across the universe
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind
Possessing and caressing me
And then the equivalent of this:
Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns
It calls me on and on across the universe
He sings Don’t Let Me Down – just the one line, and takes it to heart.
*******
The next day John shows up on time. He directs the stage crew and the sound engineers and pretty much anybody else in the room. He sashays around and does funny voices. He advises Ringo and George, and he asks Paul’s advice. He eats a piece of toast with his mouth open.
He starts to sing: Everybody had a hard year, Everybody had a good time…Yeah I’ve got a feeling, a feeling deep inside. He looks over at Paul, who is looking glum and not singing.
“Sing Paul!” John commands. And Paul joins in.
And then Billy Preston walks in, like a grace note from heaven, and gets on the keys. They go into Get Back. “I was thinking of you doing two solos,” John says to George, whose confidence is beginning to come back.
Everyone listens to the replay. Paul’s voice is soulful. George’s solos sing. Ringo is at his swinging best. Billy’s keys increase the funk factor exponentially. It’s joyful, and it rocks. You’ve given us a lift, Bill,” says John. Billy’s smile lights up the room.
Sounds of laughter shades of life are ringing
Through my open ears inciting and inviting me
John sings a few bars of a slowed-down version of Help: Now I’ve changed my mind and opened up the door.
*********
The next day, John and Paul sing Two of Us.“It’s like we have to get back,” says Paul, “There’s a story. ..it’s ‘don’t let me down’. Oh darling, don’t let me down.”
“It’s like you and me are lovers,” says John. They sing Fancy Me Chances in comical voices. Paul is grieving what they both know is happening - the impending end of a friendship and creative partnership that means everything to the world and the world to Paul.
Paul talks about the film of their trip to India. “It’s great, just incredible…it goes through all sorts of changes and stuff…it’s all of them…against the sky…and it changes to someone else…” The next day, Paul works on Let it Be: And though they may be parted, there’s still a chance that they may see: “I mean that’s the end of the song, as much as I have,” he says. It’s clear he just can’t let go. John knows, and he is quietly working behind the scenes to bring him through.
********
The next day, George helps Ringo with his Octopus song. John helps Paul on the Long and Winding Road. Everyone helps George on Something. Paul returns to Let it Be:“It’s just mourning and slow,” he says.
“It takes a long time to get out of it,” John says.
“I can’t sort of think how to do this one at all. I don’t know. I don’t know,” says Paul running his hands through his hair and rubbing his eyes.
*******
As they finish going through the final set list, Paul and John sing: You and I have memories/That stretches out ahead/We're going home /Better believe it/Good-bye. They sing through gritted teeth, making angry faces at each other, but they are laughing, and there is love in their eyes.
And it all ends on the roof, under the open sky. Like us, the people on the streets below can no longer see the band anymore. Only their music remains.
The credits roll with starts and stops of Let it Be, and then, finally, Paul’s finished song. The letting go, that was so hard to accept, is finally done. Was that good enough? he asks the man in the control room. The man in the control room says “yes”.
******
There are so many reasons to watch this film: the music, the history, little Heather’s face when Yoko sings, and, of course, the birthing of songs borne of raw emotion in real time.
But the best reason to watch is because it answers this: How do we proceed when things must end? Was Long and Winding Road really just about Linda, I wondered? Was Across the Universe really just about Yoko?
Maybe we can’t ever get back to where we once belonged, we learn, but we can move forward in love. And what is love, really? It is carrying the burden when it becomes too heavy for your brother. It’s helping people to laugh and have fun together. It’s acknowledging unexpected blessings when they come. It’s reminding people of who they were, who they are, and who they may become. It’s encouraging people to keep going, and it’s helping them to let go.
Love was John’s parting gift to the band, and especially to Paul, and, as love is wont to do, it multiplied a million ways, like stars across the universe, a time warp that starts in the slice of space and time captured by the film and ends fifty years later in our living rooms.
Many months after the sessions, George said in an interview: “John is a saint…but at the same time, he’s such a bastard – but that’s the great thing about him, you see?” That’s what makes the story so relatable: We are all saints, and we are all bastards. We are all capable of hurting, and we are all capable of healing one another.
And so, we find, amidst their music and the memories, the Beatles’ greatest gift of all: showing us that although all things must pass, love will get us through.
All you need is love, they said. Love is all you need. If ever there were a way to capture a sentiment so ethereal, this film does.
Get Back is available on Disney Plus. The film was directed and produced by Peter Jackson and Apple, Corp. treimmed to around 9 hours selected from 60 hours of film and 150 hours of video.
All You Need is Love (why some performers are engaging and others are not)
I wrote this several months ago and for some reason took it down, thinking it wasn’t particularly well-written. However, now I think that despite that, it has some useful content.
Nobody seemed to care about the show, least of all you. You go home, crack open a beer, and plop yourself on the couch mindlessly flipping channels. “Where was the love?” you think to yourself (trying not to conjure up the sappy Roberta Flack song). John Lennon had it right, you think, (relieved to find yourself elevating your musical references): Love is the answer. You sigh. You didn’t get any.
“Where was the love?”
That’s the right question, just the wrong way of looking at it.
I see musicians at various levels of technical ability, but the ultimate measure for me is what I feel. I will choose the live music of a less technically-competent musician with heart over a young hotshot without it any day of the week. Some people call this ingredient “soul” and others (well, maybe just me) call it “love”.
If you listen with your heart and are attuned to the energy in the room, you can feel it. Sometimes the energy is flat and doesn’t leave the stage, sometimes it is in two dimensions and comes off a few feet from the stage, sometimes it is in three dimensions and fills the room, and, occasionally, it will knock you into another realm of existence entirely. A truly great band can yank people away from their discussions and lift them up into the hurricane of the music and the love they are making (Lennon again).
I see it in my mind, and I feel it in my body. My body responds, and I just let it do its thing to join the love/energy/soul and mirror it back. Maybe that’s why so many musicians are thankful for dancers, and say that it energizes them and/or that that’s when they play their best. This exchange of energy, and especially when the other audience joins in, is what it’s all about.
The good news is that this path is open to anybody. Here are some tips for creating this kind of magic.
1. Start with yourself. We all experience pain. We can become addicts or harden our hearts to keep it at bay. But these things will block love energy. You have to suffer to sing the blues, someone said, and I would extend it to just about any music. You have to let yourself feel the pain and turn it into empathy for others. There is no way around this. To create is to feel pain. It is a difficult path you were called to.
2. Love begins at home (on the stage). Your band needs to play with love for each other. Your band should be about the dynamic between you, not some of the guys just supporting the “star”. I can think of two bands in particular where the love between them is palpable: Frankly Scarlet and Nick and the Knacks. They love each other, and it adds to the energy they give to the audience. Love begets love.
3. This is the hardest one. Lose the ego, the idea that it’s all about you – I don’t mean just for the show, but in everything. Yes, we feel individual pain, but, to paraphrase Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca: what does the heartbreak of a few people matter in a whole world that is heartbroken? This is why it is rare to hear a high level of soul in younger people’s music. The more life experience you have, the more you realize that broken hearts are all around and that the earth and universe itself has a broken heart. Love is our only hope. You must love your heart-broken audience and let love guide your hands or voice.
Of course, as in any relationship, just because you love with your whole heart, doesn’t always mean that your audience will always love you back. Some will, some won’t, some can’t. That’s just how the way it is. Have the courage to love anyway.
I come back to the great philosopher, John Lennon. Love is all you need.
God is love, and your unique purpose in your short stay on earth is to help heal this messed-up world with your music. Go forth in love, and I promise you that your audience will follow. At least I will.
Shuffling the Blues: A Review of Hughes Taylors’ Album: Modern Nostalgia
I love to see young musicians inspired by the Blues. In my last review, I said that Hughes Taylor was a blues musician: That’s what I heard in his originals and in his well-executed live renditions of SRV and other strongly blues-influenced artists.
However, his latest album, Modern Nostalgia has had me question that blue box I put him. As a result, I enjoyed this album even more than I had expected to, and have a renewed interest in following his artistic evolution.
Boxes only check boxes, and they sometimes confuse us into thinking that formulaic, hack music is art. But, as Solomon told us, there is nothing new under the sun, and there is no such thing as completely original work, which is fortunate: Our brains rely on pattern recognition to engage us. However, they simultaneously long for the fresh and new to provide the novelty that holds our interest.
Actual artists often begin with a formula, retain enough of it to provide the familiarity that the recipient needs, and then provide it with a stamp of their own. That’s why Van Gogh is easily recognized as Van Gogh, even if you have never before seen a particular painting, why Stravinsky can only be Stravinsky, and why Dylan always sounds like Dylan. If you follow any of their work over time, you’ll see that uniqueness becoming gradually more apparent.
On the last album. Live in the UK, 2020, songs like Gotta Find My Way Home and Just One Night had impressive guitar work and enjoyable solos, but some of the sound influences I heard (SRV and Cream, respectively) were often too salient to feel unique or to provide that extra push that makes a song memorable. That’s not to say that there weren’t some gems on the album - Hold You Tight will break your heart with its B.B. phrasing, and Promises turns Etta James inside out to lift your heart up again. Artists of every kind stay close to original techniques and master those before finding a sound that is truly their own, and Hughes was no different.
Modern Nostalgia marks an evolutionary point in Hughes’ development as an artist. It is, certainly, a zig-zag romp through the decades and their best artists. You’ll hear 70’s pop in Waiting, BB-style blues on Excuses, Petty’s punchy guitar is apparent in The Refugee, and Highwayman brings to mind ZZ Top. It’s actually a lot of fun to pick these influences out and even note what appears to be clever hints in the titles. However, the difference on this album is that these originals are simply nods of appreciation to those path forgers; While Hughes may borrow styles of the past, they are combined more creatively, and he is firmly in the driver’s seat this time.
Another difference in this album is that the other band members contributions are highlighted more. Greg Sassaman’s drum intro to the opening song on the album, Treat Me Right, gets your feet tapping right away. Johnathan Benton’s drum interludes clearly signal the rise in energy before the wah wah Jiminess on Quarentine Blues and the Duane slide on Highwayman. Tom Wilson’s organ keys come in soon after the guitar intro in Prettiest Thief, adding another bass-line to boost the SRV-like riffs, and his Doors-like solos turn the Santana tremelo even more mystical-sounding on Wicked Woman.
There is, additionally, a growing maturity in some of the songs’ lyrics on this album –you can hear a young man getting older. Lyrics to The Refugee are bleak: Evening comes/To remind the Refugee that he’s out of time/The refugee a heavy soul/On the run with nowhere to go/No time for the refugee/No love or sympathy.
Dreamily is similar in tone, but more bittersweet than bitter. The smooth jazz, lazy-Sunday morning sound is something I haven’t heard from Hughes: Like the lyrics say, I won’t deny/this is not what I had in mind. I think I might have liked this well-crafted song coming from someone else, but I so look forward to those trademark heavy guitar solos that I couldn’t get into it as much. However, keep in my mind that I’m a rocker chick, not an indie girl – your results may vary.
She’s My Everything brought the mood back up with its rockabilly 1950’s/Stray Cats strut. The addition of sax makes this song extra fun and danceable. Excuses was my favorite song on the album with its slow and easy crawling bass line and B.B.-style tightness, and I’ve always enjoyed Trouble, which found its way to this album from earlier work. While not particularly complex, it has a pesky bass line (Nate Lee) that I just love.
No Evil Love is wholly different sound – imagine Creaminess on top of an amplified acoustic folksy-blues, briefly visiting the Allman Brothers and Molly Hatchet, before floating away on a cloud. This one, too, is not what I’ve come to expect from Hughes, but, tied with Wicked Woman, was also a favorite on the album. It’s definitely rocker-chick worthy.
Obviously, this album is a real showcase of guitar versatility, and, try as I might, I couldn’t understand the order of songs. They didn’t seem arranged by decade, genre, theme, or mood, and made more of a sound patchwork than a story. But, that’s nostalgia for you, more patchy than chronological, and perhaps that was the point. And, the unusual album composition, Hughes’ work reminded me that art often defies clear categorical boundaries.
Nostalgia, “modern” or otherwise, is looking back on the good things that have come before. I look back fondly on Hughes’ past work, and I am enjoying Modern Nostalgia now. I believe that Hughes will continue to work and create a singular, recognizable musical voice from the amalgam of these different styles and influences. I look forward to seeing what the future holds for him and for what he holds for the future.
Come as You Are: A Review of Debra Lynn Rodriguez’ album Cheaper Than Therapy
For those who haven’t grown up in the complex religious, political, and cultural web that many call “Christianity,” it is almost impossible to describe the distress of leaving it behind. We’re the Outlaws - living in that no-man’s land without a God, dodging bullets from well-meaning cowboys determined to lasso us back into Either-Or land, all the time preaching “love” that ain’t.
Debra’s leather, copious tats, and half-shaved head belie her sweet manner and ultra-feminine voice. She obviously doesn’t dwell in the land of Either-Or. Neither does her voice. Think of both Indigo Girls together and then some - smoky descents and heavenly heights conveying emotion by range, as well as technique and control: the perfect gifts for preaching to the Outlaws who’ve lived both.
Debra Lynn’s been there with the Outlaws and she’s come through it. Her work reflects a traditional hero’s journey, complete with a calling, departure, journey, and return. No different from Moses. No different from Jesus. No different from the Buddha. Forging a path no different from what each of us is called to do and sharing it to guide us on our own.
Love is Love
When I listened to the songs on Cheaper Than Therapy (Live at Eddie’s Attic), I was a little confused at first as to which were about love and passion for God and which were about love and passion for a person.
Then I realized that it didn’t matter. Passion and spiritual longing are not so very different at the core: they are both about the need to merge and dwell in the object of one’s love.
Someone once said that there are only two commandments, to love God with all your heart and soul and mind and to “love your neighbor as yourself,” not “to the extent that you love yourself”, but AS yourself. When we love each other, we love God. When we long for each other’s embrace, we are longing to be held by God. Many of the songs can be heard either way - love in the spiritual realm as well as the material one.
The Calling
The calling begins with something not making sense anymore.
In Lyin’ Awake, she explores the feeling of something she can’t understand but that just won’t leave her alone –the paradoxical sweetness and torture of the mystery, and the calling to venture out of her comfort zone.
You drive me mad in the most wonderful way/Lying awake, I can’t get you off my mind/You keep me spinning/turning you over in my brain.
Maybe there’s a reason I can’t see/Maybe there’s a reason bigger than me.
Callings often involve distress: Turn Me Away could be a song about unrequited love or one about the fear that God may not love you anymore or that you may not love God anymore - not the one you’ve been taught about, anyway: In the dark reaching out to you, a shaking halo
And I scream, and I scream/Pour out your love, pour out your love on me
The Departure
When that confusion becomes intense enough, it’s time to go.
In Hiawassee, her voice flies high and sweet, and she explains what it’s like to leave “home”, yet to long for it just the same: Truth be told, I’m the prodigal who fled.
If you listen to just one song, let it be Hold a Hurricane. Again, I don’t know if it’s a hymn or a love song. I just know it’s a beautiful longing for something:
Deep down inside/I knew, I’d end up like this/I’d be left behind the wreckage with the rest
You, you came out of the wind/Think you can grasp it in your hand/Honey, think again
You can’t hold a hurricane/Might as well enjoy the rain/Until it’s gone/Cause then it’s gone
There was a tease of harmonica on this one, and I wished for a little more, but, honestly, that would have just made a bigger puddle of tears on my floor. Every time. I can’t put on mascara before I play this one.
The Journey
There are battles to fight on the journey. There are Old Crows – maybe these are actual people or maybe self-hatred inner messages: Either way, the ominous, old West-like beginning portends what’s to come for Miss Crow: One of these days I’m gonna shoot you down, and you won’t even know what hit ya.
Silent Rider has a similar chilling tone - another force to be reckoned with on the journey - a sherif out to hurt what he can’t control:
They make no mistake to cross him/Not even his people/Cause he won’t think twice/But pull the trigger anyway
Blood runs thick/But pride, you know it runs deeper/Make you choose/You’re bound to lose/to silent rider
The Return
But all journeys, even perilous ones, come to an end. Debra Lynn says, between songs, that, “Community saved my life. Friendship saved my life.” And maybe because of that, of seeing love in those around her, she wrote Even When It Hurts - about the rediscovery of what she knew All Along– that God loves her just as she is:
You don’t run when it hurts/Won’t turn back when the road gets rocky/You’ve got a love that’s stronger than me
My father/my maker/never shaken one/Hold me close/you keep me safe and warm
Debra Lynn’s been there. And not only has she come through, but she shines her beautiful light to guide the rest of us Outlaws through the dark. She says, “Here’s how it is, ya’ll – it’s about love and love is love- and I’m here for ya, and so are the rest of us.” And she smiles.
She ends the album with a cover of the Rock of Ages hymn, inviting us to be in this journey together, holding and vibrating notes in a vocal balance of strength and tenderness. That’s who Debra Lynn is. And that’s the God she’s come to know.
Download her music or go hear her play. You’ll get your spirits lifted, and you’ll get it: She’s a courageous truth-teller who doesn’t forget the love part. Maybe she’s a prophet, hey, I don’t really know.
On Our Way: A Review of Kurt Lee Wheeler’s Album
Inside the On Our Way album cover, Kurt Lee Wheeler says, “With ears to hear, the listener can find hints of betrayal, self-incrimination, robust faith, doubting faith, failure, celebration, love lost, love requited, lasting love celebrated, passion for life …the cycle of life”. I couldn’t say it better myself, but I can try to expound. My hope is that sharing what I hear might inspire others to listen and/or listen more deeply.
If life were easy, we wouldn’t have heroes. If it were simple, we wouldn’t need artists.
Kurt Lee Wheeler’s album On Our Way is the result of the triad of a perfectionist’s technical precision, a philosopher’s conviction, and an artist’s unique envisionment of composition to tell a story in which the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
The album opens with a church organ quickly followed by an outlaw country bang. It’s a clue that you’re gonna get some preaching like you done never heard before.
Something I Said slides right into this peppy tempo. However, the intermittent pauses and acapella moments of the chorus masterfully underscore the uncertainty and feeling of aloneness that come from not understanding what happened when things fall apart, not knowing whether or you are at fault or not, and, if so, what you did: Was it something I said was it something I said? /Now I'm hanging by a thread from all that I see now I feel, I've feel I’ve been misread….I don't know……what else to do…..what else to do…
If the first song communicates the singer’s own confusion, Faces is a confession and apology on behalf of himself and other men to all the sweethearts (like you, Dylan would say) whose hearts they misled: I think I saw you as a prize…With all of my stories you couldn’t see past...all my lies.
And with that self-conviction comes a need for guidance: 83, 53, 23 is a straight-forward old-style country song narrative that reminds us that people who have come before and lived simple lives, are often the heroes we need to emulate. They’ve seen it all, dealt with hardships, kept trucking, and tried to do the right thing. If Garth Brooks waffles on whether it was worth it or not (The Dance), Kurt states his conviction loud and clear: I won’t leave this world with trying and I won’t leave this world without crying.
17 Forever is the music version of Friday Night Lights, a more wholesome version of Seger’s Night Moves, a wider lens on Mellencamp’s Jack and Diane, and a prequel to Springsteen’s Glory Days. It reminds us that there is joy in life, however fleeting. Appreciate the now.
And in Til Death is the End , Kurt ties it all together: Joy will inevitably end, but love anyway: This one makes a perfect first dance song at a wedding: Long have I waited to kneel down beside you/Long have I waited to ask for your hand/to tell you I love you and forever be faithful /long will I love you until death is the end. In addition to the lyrics, the keys near the end help to make this song special.
My interest was first piqued in Kurt’s work when I heard a live version of Idol’s Rebel Yell. The fifth song on the album is stunningly beautiful and deeply soulful, reducing Idol’s pre-techno version to hyperactive teen karaoke. At first, I couldn’t understand how this cover - different in genre, style, and tone - found its way right smack in the middle of a collection of original work. Then I got it. It’s the minor key in that existential puzzle of why we want more of what makes us miserable: the rebel yell being a “yes” to love and to life. Its placement is perfect, actually.
Cherokee County was co-written by Barbara Evelyn Tippens is a love letter to “home”. The increased in tempo and volume and Jim Van Cleve’s sweet violin strings lifting up the main melody compliment the lyrics: Soar over those mountains/with the sacred mounds below/above the creeks and the hilltops. We are where we come from, it says, not just our people but the places, too.
But Somehow it Ended tells us that: relationships end, people die, and we don’t know why. Think how it ended and all there is to say/Yeah, I wish things’d been different/I wish we had it our way.
On Our Way brings all this wisdom together, and is another one in which I hear as a hit song, particularly because of its punchy chorus. At first, I couldn’t figure out why this was not the final song on the album, sending us on our merry way. But then I got it: We can’t do this stuff on our own.
And so, Reckless Abandon. We see how, when we’re at the end of our rope, due to love, loss, self-incrimination, and confusion that we can return to the Creator for help: Choking on life’s dust/Oh God reach down and Lift the head of your friend/Worries and fears made my heart grow cold. The last song ends on its knees, just like we need to. It’s my favorite song of all.
The album ends in a quick church organ slide down the octave, echoing in reverse the beginning and enclosing what’s within.
A significant amount of time, money, and heart must have gone into this album. Bobby Titolo (South Shadow Studios) mixed, with mastering done by Grammy winner Jim Van Cleve. The effect forefronts the dominant human and musical voices and brings forth the varied tones, tempos, and intonations of the supporting players. The support players took this album to the next level: slide guitar between the vocals brings the message to heart, and violin lifts up phrases and intensifies the emotive power of the lyrics.
Kurt gives us an honest glimpse of a bruised, broken, and beautiful heart who has kept on keeping on, realized who he is and what he believes, owned his mistakes, decided that he’s going to love and live fully- even if he can’t figure it all out, even if it hurts- and then humbly asking for help. In sharing his subjective experience, he paradoxically communicates the universal one. On Our Way is the perfect name for this album. Listen to it with your ears and heart open, and you will come away renewed and refreshed as you continue your journey.
Kurt Lee Wheeler is artist in residence at Reformation Brewery.