Bob Dylan and The Band - The Basement Tapes

Recently I holed up with a couple buddies in a friend's basement to record the first White Mountain Murder Circus album, and fueled by creative juices and alcohol, I uttered (amidst many other forgettable and unforgettable lines), "Like most great lyrics it doesn't really stand up to logical scrutiny."  The Basement Tapes, the 1975 release of unpublished collaborations between the legendary Bob Dylan and the nearly-as-legendary The Band, puts this to the limit.

OK, back up the train.  I know what you're thinking: after Dylan went all psychedelic on Another Side of Bob Dylan, sense-making pretty much went out the window for the fifty or so years.  In a sense, that's true: no one will cite the lyrics from Mr. Tambourine Man ("in the jingle-jangle morning, I'll come following you") as a textbook example of clarity.  Still, there's a difference between psychedelic lyrics and nonsense lyrics, and The Basement Tapes treads largely in the latter.  "I looked at my watch / I looked at my wrist / I punched myself in the face with my fist / I took my potatoes down to be mashed / And then I went down to the million-dollar bash," Dylan sings in "Million-Dollar Bash" - and that's actually fairly coherent, as the album goes.  "Yea!  Heavy and a Bottle of Bread" has not only a silly title but is replete with silly one-liners: "Slap that drummer with a pie that smells."  The difference between that and a line like "With your mercury mouth in missionary times" (which leads off the epic "Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands" from Blonde On Blonde is that you can ruminate on the possibly meanings of "Sad-Eyed Lady," chew on it for days.  There's no chewing on "Yea!  Heavy."  It just passes through the mind like a vapor.

That said, this isn't universally true.  While none of the lyrics are straightforward, classics like "Crash on the Levee (Down In the Flood)," "This Wheel's On Fire," and "Tears Of Rage" are tied to larger themes of mortality and, in the spirit of Dylan's best writing, seem to have a meaning not indicated in the denotations of the words.  This play with death gives even the silliness some gravity, like it's a spiteful thumbing of the nose at the Reaper.  And, of course, we're dealing with masters here - master instrumentalists and arrangers in The Band, and a master wordsmith in Dylan, whose real gift is stringing together words that sound good.  That sounds like a reductionist theory of a songwriter's job, but what else is there?  The Basement Tapes isn't the best work by either entity, but it's still fine, fun, and frolicking.

Bob Dylan official site
The Band official site

Live Review - 4/12/2011 Charlie Sheen at Agganis Arena

From Charlie Louvin to Charlie Sheen in just a few short months.  How this blog has fallen.

What can I say about the show, but: warlock, Adonis DNA (because I said so), goddesses, seven-gram rock, tiger blood, only one speed (go), bitchin'.  If that doesn't mean anything to you, it wouldn't have meant anything to you when he repeated it over and over again live.  If it does mean something to you, you would have beeen entertained for the first fifteen minutes, after which things just began to repeat.

But the worst thing about the performance was how pathetic it was.  By pathetic, I don't mean inept and lacking in value, like a Katy Perry CD.  I mean pathetic as in full of pathos, like the story of a starving orphan.  Sheen clearly feels oppressed, and despite his aspirations to begin a revolutionary, he wants nothing more than a return to the way things were: drugs, models, his kids, and making a million bucks an episode on Two and a Half Men.  Yes, after watching ninety minutes of the supposedly trendsetting Sheen, I was left wondering if it was just a desperate ploy to get his mediocre show back.

Did I have fun?  I did.  Was that largely because of the company and the triple shot of tequila I had immediately prior?  It was.  Go drinking with your friends, or go listen to some live music; skip Charlie Sheen.

Elvis Perkins - Ash Wednesday

Rating: B+

I try to avoid reading a lot of background material on albums before I review them, but it was unavoidable for Ash Wednesday, the 2007 debut album from Elvis Perkins.  September 11th, 2001, was a pivotal moment in my life, as it was for many folks about my age, but it was especially tragic for Perkins, who lost his mother in the attacks.  He had previously lost his father (actor Anthony Perkins), so even though much of the album (six of eleven tracks) were written prior to 9/11, death weighs over the album.

Perkins shows a deft touch, not just dealing with the tragic elements of death (as he does on the morose title track), but also whimsy - "Do you wonder where you go when you die? / Emile's Vietnam in the sky," he sings in the Francophilic song of the same name - and optimism - "Someday everyone will know / Who you are" in "Sleep Sandwich."  The crown jewel is opening track "While You Were Sleeping," an epic stream-of-consciousness song-dream that touches on death (hauntingly, "I've made a death suit for life / For my father's ill-widowed wife"), life ("You grew your power garden / For your little ones"), and how fine the line can be between the two ("Anyone who is anyone has that same dream / Were you falling / Or were you flying? / Were you calling out / Or were you dying?").  The tune begins with just acoustic guitar and Perkins' voice but swells with syncopated snares, trumpets, and a musical saw.  Like with many great lyrics, often it's about what sounds great rather than what makes sense: "Found you dreaming in black and white / While it rained in all the colors of the night" is simultaneously incoherent and pitch-perfect.

I can make criticisms of the album.  Musically, it can be all over the place, and while the kitchen sink approach can be charming, it can also be overwrought, as in the cloying "May Day."  Perkins' voice is expressive but certainly not what most would call classically beautiful.  In this way, and in its treatment of death as both tragedy and catharsis, Ash Wednesday can't avoid comparisons to Neutral Milk Hotel's In The Aeroplane Over the Sea.  But hey, there are worse sins.  And if Ash Wednesday isn't Aeroplane, it's a damn fine substitute.

Elvis Perkins In Dearland official site

John Prine - Prime Prine

Evaluating a "Greatest Hits" album is weird.  Obviously it's good, right?  Prine, like Elvis Costello, is a great songwriter with whom I have been pretty unfamiliar, and Prime Prine, his 1976 compilation, seemed like a good place to start.

Only ... I can't help but feel that it wasn't the best place to start.  It only covers his first four albums, so it misses out on all his later work, including classics like "Speed Of the Sound Of Loneliness."  Moreover, it's not even complete as far as his first early albums go: "Angel From Montgomery" is notably excluded.

What's there is very good.  Like with many singer-songwriters, Prine is at his best when stripped down to just his voice and acoustic finger-picked guitar, such as the haunting post-war cautionary tale "Sam Stone" are in this mode.  Prine does a great job covering emotional ground other artists won't touch: "Donald and Lydia" turns a one-night stand into a treatise on the human tragedy that we can never share our true feelings with others.  The intimacy of the emotional power of these lyrics in dulled a little bit in more produced numbers like "Saddle In the Rain" and "Come Back To Us Barbara Lewis Hare Krishna Beauregard," though Prine still displays a great ear for lyrics and melody.  At times, he shows a terrific sense of humor, as in a live version of "Dear Abby," which mixes home-spun wisdom "Stop wishin' on bad luck and knockin' on wood" with funny scenarios from imaginary letter-writers.

I can unequivocally recommend John Prine and his music.  He's a gifted songwriter and perform and a unique voice in American music.  Prime Prine?  You can probably find better introductions.

John Prine official site