New York: 'Bout Damn Time

So it's been months, like, lots of them, since I completed a best-of-state post, and I'd kind of figured it was never going to happen, then I flipped my rock-quote-o-the-day calendar, and discovered the birthday of my planned solo-artist from the great state of New York, so what better birthday gift than to finally get off my lazy ass and complete another post?

Bee Tee Dub, that's a trick question... There IS no better gift than a fresh steaming pile of blog from yours truly...

So if you've been reading the blasts from the past, you know how this jazz works. I write some junk about the state, make up some junk and pass it off as inane fact, I chuckle to myself, everyone else gets bored, and I move on to posting about the musicians.

The thing is, I started that whole deal because Alaska is boring as hell, and Alabama isn't a whole lot better. New York on the other hand is about as un-boring as it gets. You've got the nation's largest city, fiercely loyal residents, a progressive culture, giant deli sandwiches, some really big water falls, a border with Canada, and the whole joint was originally settled by the Dutch, which officially makes it awesome.

It's also got just about every American musician who wasn't born in California, so there's plenty to talk about musically. That, and I think the reason these posts stopped was because I got tired of my own long-winded approach to blogging.

That's right, I typed MYSELF to boredom... I can only assume how the rest of you were feeling...

So without further ado, let's move on to the selections...



Solo Artist: Paul Simon

He's so much more than a solo artist, but so much more than an honorable mention. I've spent many an hour in tormented contemplation. Should I chose Billy Joel, or Neil Diamond? Sammy Davis Jr., or Cyndi Lauper? Harry Belafonte, or Fats Waller? Then October 13th happened, and Paul Simon had a birthday.

So happy birthday, Paul. There's no right answer here, and you're a hell of a long way from the wrong one.

So before you start hitting the comment button, Paul Simon WAS born in New Jersey, but he was less than 3 months old when his family moved to Queens. In my book, that makes him a New Yorker... Of course, had he been born in Wisconsin, we wouldn't be having this debate..

In 1957, Paul and his mop-headed friend Art Garfunkel graduated from playing high school dances and local dive bars to have a record released on the regional label Big Records under the pseudonyms Tom & Jerry. The single was called 'Hey, Schoolgirl' and was followed by a handful of other 'Tom & Jerry' recordings, amid a smattering of other pen-named local faves with Simon using the monikers 'Jerry Landis', 'Paul Kane', and 'True Taylor'. A few of these tunes even cracked the Billboard hot 100, but 1964 was the year the magic happened.

It was early in '64 that Columbia Records signed Simon and his soon-to-be musical shadow, Art Garfunkel to a contract under their true names. A fact that Paul Simon credits as the first time artists true ethnic names were used for a major label release. That album, Wednesday Morning 3AM, was much more folk-driven and spiritual than any or the duo's later works. With a new arrangement of the traditionals 'Benedictus', and 'Go Tell It on the Mountain', a modern-hymnal in 'You Can Tell the World', and a peace anthem 'Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream'. It also only contained 5 original Simon songs, perhaps leading to it's bleak early sales, that only picked up after the release of their 2nd album, which more heavily featured original works.

That album, 1966's Sounds of Silence is a masterpiece. Ten of the eleven tunes on the original release are Simon originals, and highlight not only the inspired lyrical content of his entire career, but also lended itself perfectly to the patented Simon & Garfunkel harmony that has become synonymous with their combined works, and in some ways, with 60's folk music itself. The plugged-in version of the title track which originally appeared in acoustic on their first release, to the final refrains of 'I Am a Rock', single handedly made me a fan of the 60's folk genre. I have never really gotten in to The Mamas and the Papas, or Peter, Paul & Mary, and at the time, hadn't been exposed to much Bob Dylan. My folk education began with Simon and Garfunkel, and I appreciate the lessons...

Unfortunately, there was trouble in the duo paradise, and it wouldn't be long until Paul got tired of Art's crap, or vice-versa, and they split up. This was really, REALLY bad news for Art, who went on the clean windows, or mop floors, or something, but it wasn't such a bad deal for Paul, who moved on to a lucrative solo career.

I can keep going with the recap, but you can get all that info from Wikipedia. I'd rather explain why *I* chose Paul Simon, especially because if you were to peruse my music collection, you would find I own more Billy Joel.

The answer is simple, Billy was born in May, and in May I wasn't ready to release the New York post...

Moving on...

Band: The Ramones

Those who don't listen to punk tend to regard it as a sub genre of rock. A relatively obscure sub genre at that. A musical movement that lasted roughly as long as Grunge or Surf-Rock, but that is absolutely not true.

Punk is a genre unto itself, a genre that inspired the sub genres of heavy metal, new wave, goth, emo, proto-punk, and changed the face of rock itself. As a matter of fact, I think I'll dedicate a different post to the Punk Family Tree. A tree rooted in Iggy & The Stooges and the MC5, a tree who's biggest branches are supported by The Sex Pistols, Television, and The Clash, but the trunk from which these branches grow is The Ramones.

While the Pistols were putting angst and screaming before instruments and melodies, Joey, Johnny, and Dee Dee Ramone were putting their own spin on the surf melodies they grew up on. That's the biggest difference between the gutter-punk sound of the London punk invasion, and the dance-punk sound coming out of New York. The Sex Pistols wanted to be famous, and figured guitars would help them get there. The Ramones wanted to play guitar, and figured being famous would let them do that.

The story of The Ramones is as much about their influence as it is their music. The Ramones have been credited with influencing The Clash, Black Flag, Social Distortion, The Descendents, Bad Religion, Bad Brains, Metallica, Foo Fighters, Lemon Heads, L7, Mojo Nixon, Green Day, and pretty much every other rock act that started playing after 1976. They were so much more than just Gabba Gabba Hey...

Honorable Mention: Lou Reed

When establishing the category of Honorable Mention, two names immediately came to mind. Brian Eno, and Lou Reed. Eno is a Brit, and therefore ineligible for a 50 state post, but Reed was born in Brooklyn, and has embodied the Rock n' Roll spirit, and New York 'Artiste' vibe since learning to play guitar by ear from listening to the radio as a kid.

Before mixing with John Cale, Sterling Morrison, and Maureen Tucker to form The Velvet Underground, or the foursome's fateful meeting with Andy Warhol that launched them into the New York club scene, Lou Reed was a session writer for Pickwick Records, churning out dance hits like 'The Ostrich' by implementing the chords and hooks he found in modern doo wop and jazz records. Thankfully for the world by and large, this was just a way to make a paycheck, and Lou soon found fellow artists who wanted to push the boundaries of rock art, helping him reach his ultimate goal, to "bring the sensitivities of the novel to rock music."

Personally, I first started listening to Lou Reed solo at about 16 years old, and didn't get into The Velvet Underground until about 10 years later. After a handful of casual listens, I couldn't understand what the fuss was about. There was nothing ground breaking about tracks like Walk on the Wild Side, Who Loves the Sun, or even a classic avant-garde tour de force like Heroin. It wasn't until I really took the time to think about the musical timeline of rock and roll that I understood the importance of this man and his music.

Basically, every rock album recorded in or after 1969 is just a compilation of the styles used on The Beatles' Sargent Pepper, and The Velvet Underground's Velvet Underground & Nico albums. The reason the music doesn't seem 'Revolutionary' now, is that the revolution is over, and Lou Reed was rock music's George Washington, commanding rock music's Continental Army against the tyranny of corporate record labels, churning out mindless dance numbers like those he used to pen.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying there wasn't good music before Lou Reed, but thanks to Lou Reed, we now have a better scale with which to grade.

So that's it. New York in a nutshell. Feel free to post your own opinions in the comments and let me know why I made a drastic mistake by not selecting {fill in the blank}.

Now that I've finished the unenvyable task of reducing New York to just three selections, I'm hoping to knock out the rest of the nation with great haste. Next on the list, North Carolina... Stick around...

Inspired By Anger

OK, perhaps 'Anger' is kind of harsh... Maybe, 'Inspired by Rock-Snob Geekery to Disagree with Dissenting Opinions at All Costs' would be a more apt title... Either way, I'll take inspiration where I can get it, and this is just as good a source as any...

http://thephoenix.com/Supplements/2008/50States/

The attached link is kind of a train-wreck of what Boston area hipsters do when killing time at the local Starbucks. For the most part, I can 'grain of salt' this kind of stuff and remember that not everyone is as savvy as I am when it comes to musical taste... I continue on knowing that few are as full of themselves. That makes me feel better, and that is, after all, what REALLY matters.

Ummm... A Point! THAT'S what I'm missing here! Below is a break down of both the head-against-a-wall inducing errors, and the small handful of blind-squirrels-found-some-nuts descent choices of the whole list. Feel free to give each one a read, complete with the somewhat humorous and always snarky rationales behind them, but at the end of the day, I'm sure you'll agree that some, if not most of these are WAY off base.

As a result, I shall begin working on an epic post, not quite 0f 'Why The Grammy's Blow' proportions, but still, larger, and more researched than the average. It may take a few days, some teeth gnashing, a fair amount of gut wrenching guilt, and likely more than one mistake along the way, but I'm going to assemble my OWN 50 state list...

As an aside, I tend to not believe that artists are deserving of a spot on MY list just because they currently happen to be playing free shows in crappy Midwestern bars, so as a result, there will be NO 'best new band' by state. Instead, I'll go Best Band, Best Artist, and Honorable Mention, going to, in my opinion, the most under rated band or solo performer from the state.

But first, before I partake in my grand nationwide tour, it's time to lambaste others for their poor taste and obvious lack of effort...

Florida: Lynyrd Effing Skynyrd! Off the top of my head, I can't shoot out an alternate Florida band, but I guaran-damn-tee that I will research this to the ends of the earth until I find a suitable replacement... Lynyrd Skynyrd will never, EVER, be the best of anything, except perhaps the best example of why being spontaneously stricken deaf might not be so bad... Oh no, wait, that one goes to our NEXT misapplied entrant...

Delaware: George Thorogood... Yep... THAT one... I realize Delaware is a painfully small state that likely is not as rich in musical influences as say New York, California, Massachusetts, Washington... Well, probably anywhere except maybe Wyoming, but from where I'm standing, this guy couldn't even win Wyoming... Earlier on this very blog I opined about the grave mistakes we made as a people during the 80's when it came to what is actually entertaining. In many ways we have made up for those mistakes by learning from them. Please don't set back 20+ years of human development by reintroducing the youth of the nation to 'Bad To The Bone'. I'd go so far as to say that the Thorogood Crisis matches, if not EXCEEDS, Global Warming as the #1 threat to humanity by and large in the coming years. Only YOU can prevent drunken bar-room bravado...

New York: The list of 'misses' could go on and on until it occupies over 75 of the total 153 entrants on the list (They gave DC it's own list, a bold move representing the un-represented...) I fear if I break down every single error in detail, I'll overshadow the importance of this incredibly pathetic choice. As far as solo artists go, New York has got to be top-of-the-heap when it comes to potential suitors, especially since the list liberally chose the states in which performers ascended, as opposed to just where they were born. That being the case, two performers, lauded quite heavily in the sites comments section, Billy Joel and Paul Simon would both have made excellent, almost untouchable choices for the award... So naturally, they went with Mary J. Blige...

Ummm... WHAT!!?!

Perhaps the boys in Boston were just trying to prove they're 'Urban'... If that's the case, I could have let them slide with Biggie, or even Puffy but give me a break... If the Faboo Ms. MJB happens upon this little nugget whilst ego-surfing, I'm sure she would immediately call her publicist and ask how much it cost to get thrown onto the list... I'd go so far as to say that even Mama Blige, if she is still with us, would not agree that her daughter trumps Rhythm Simon or The Piano Man. I'm not one for Internet cliches, but this is definitively an EPIC FAIL...

OK, enough with the venom... There were some good choice on the list. Some of them seemingly obvious, going with The Beach Boys for California, REM and Ray Charles for Georgia, letting the people make the choice between Bob Dylan and Prince for Minnesota. All this proves is that at least one person on the staff of The Phoenix has actually listed to music at some point in their lifetime. Admittedly though, there were some great calls outside of the no-brainers...

Connecticut: They made the right choice going with Liz Phair as the top solo performer. It's too bad they then spent her half paragraph calling her a sell out... No matter, I can overlook reasoning, at least they made the right call. One commenter felt John Mayer would have been a better choice. They are wrong. Another commenter said 'what has john mayer given to this world besides headaches and diarrhea?' They are right. Huzzah, mattmatt... Huzzah indeed...

Idaho: I'm roughly as familiar with acts from Idaho as I am with the up-and-coming acts currently tooling around Baghdad. That being the case, I was taken aback at the opportunity to agree with their selection of Josh Ritter. I happened upon Mr. Ritter whist watching an episode of Letterman and was impressed enough to seek out his recordings. An A+ for Dave who's show also introduced me to one of my all time favorite Canadian rock ensembles, Metric. Kudos Mr. Letterman on a job well done and Kudos Phoenix for finding Idaho's hidden treasure... Hold on... I smell a new Huell Howser series in the making...

Texas: Is there a state that screams southern-fried-rock louder than Tejas? As a result, you'd expect the shit-kickingest of the bunch, perhaps, ZZ Top, to top the list of Texas rock royalty... I expected it, I expected to think 'ZZ Top (or some other ridiculous rock cliche)! Seriously! How lame!' Instead, just as I was about to shut down the whole list without giving the last eight entrants their just viewings, The Phoenix, pardon the allusion, rose from the ashes of it's own Blige-induced delirium and selected an unsung rock gem oft praised but less-oft listened to. A personal favorite, The 13th Floor Elevators... If you like psych-rock and are not familiar with Roky Erikson and the boys of the 13th floor, then do yourself a favor and pick up their The Psychedelic Sounds of the 13th Floor Elevators. It'll rock the whammy bar clean off your particular axe of choice... If you are not a fan of 60's psychedelia, then go away, square...

Much like the badness, I shan't list all the goodness for fear it will dilute just how bad the overall badness really is. Look for yourself, for every slight twinge of joy, there's a kick-in-the-balls dose of pain. For every soft, soothing affirmation that you haven't slipped into your own personal Twilight Zone, there is a hip-for-hip's sake blues legend carted out like a 'History of Rock and/or Roll' text book. For example, and I promise, this'll be the last one, either Mississippi or Tennessee NEEDS to pay homage to The King. Personally, I am not a huge Elvis Presley fan... For my money he's the 2nd best recording artist named Elvis... However, I respect the awesome influential power that earned him the moniker King. I know music aficionados everywhere are scared of losing their geek cards if they speak ill of Robert Johnson or Aretha Franklin, and I don't mean to buck the hipster anti-establishment, but neither of them is Elvis Presley. There. I said it. He didn't write his own songs, and was a merely passing guitar player. In spite of that, he was the biggest musician of his era, and debatably the biggest solo musician of all time. If Michael Jackson is worthy of inclusion both as a member of The Jackson 5 AND as a solo artist (a cop-out I intend to remedy), than Elvis should have earned a nod in either his birth state, or the state where he made his name...

With that, the bitching and subsequent moaning is at an end. Next time, if the task doesn't kill me, look for MY list of Best Band, Best Solo Artist, and the new 3rd category Honorable Mention by state in my next gargantuan blog post... Google don't fail me now!!

Random Thoughts: Vexed in the City

Don’t ask where this came from. If you hop aboard my train of thought all I can guarantee you is a derailment… I anticipated that my first post back from vacation would be about something I saw or did whilst out of town. A movie I watched, a book I read, a meal I ate, a wine I purchased, a slot machine I lost at, etc. To be honest, I haven’t yet been in that reflective place. Don’t get me wrong, there were some great things about my exploration of the west with CSD Julie, but I have not yet quite gathered my thoughts in that ‘write a blog post’ way as of yet.

I have however, gone off on a tangent this morning.

Is there a more dysfunctional relationship than the one between New Yorkers and New York City?

From working with, talking with, and witnessing first hand the wily New Yorker in their native environment, I have come to the conclusion that unlike anywhere else in the world, living in New York City shares a close bond with the following:

1. Being trapped in a loveless marriage
2. Spending the rest of your days happily ever after with your soul mate
3. Surviving in the world’s largest family
4. Ruling the world
5. Eating 5-star meals, morning, noon, and night
6. Contracting bowel-shaking food poisoning on a weekly basis

Notice the dichotomy? I realize, I was pretty subtle there… Feel free to read it again if you need to… Yep, there’s some opposites in there, but every single one of them seems to apply when considering a life in New York.

First off, I also fully recognize that a non New Yorker writing about living in New York is about as popular as Carrot Top performing in blackface, but the subject of New York from a New Yorker’s point of view has been explored to death. The subject of visiting New York from the outside has equally been trod into a finely worn path, but I cannot recall ever reading a non New Yorker’s view on what it must be like to live in the city. Why, you ask, do I feel I have that right? Honestly, I don’t, but the thought has been kicking me in the ass for a few weeks now, so I’m just getting it out there. Besides, upon visiting New York my first goal is always to look as little like a tourist as I possibly can. As a matter of fact, my favorite New York moment occurred on my last visit, when I was stopped in Central Park by a couple of mid-westerners asking me for directions. At that moment I knew ‘oh yeah, I could be a New Yorker, provided I could spend my days wandering the streets and not, you know, *working*’

Back to my point. Let me examine the above New York states of mind…

Being trapped in a loveless marriage- No matter the time of day or night, no matter the month of the year, the year of the decade, or the decade of the century, the noise in New York City never quite stops. Like a nagging spouse over your shoulder, 24 hours a day, New York is always expecting more from you while refusing to give the moment of piece you so richly crave. Just as it seems the city is opening it’s arms for you, giving you your every desire, you get mugged, or hit by a taxi, or it starts to rain even though it’s 95 degrees out. New York give you nothing unconditionally.

Spending the rest of your days happily ever after with your soul mate- It’s not all gloom and doom. From virtually any spot in Manhattan you are within walking distance of great food, world class entertainment, culture, shopping, and landmarks. Taken as a whole, the city is a love letter to the American dream. Anything you can imagine is not only possible in New York, it likely already exists. New York is saying ‘I will give you everything you’ve ever wanted, and all I ask in return is that you take it from me.’ Isn’t that how we all want our romances to go? Perfection is for suckers, real love is 24 hour pizza parlors and an unfathomably hot cup of deli coffee on a chilly, wet spring morning.

Surviving in the world’s largest family: New Yorkers relate to each other both as enemies, and comrades in arms. They will at once steal each other’s seats on the subway, yell, honk, and curse at each other, while still defending one another to the death from outsiders. Like siblings, they are free to beat and mock each other mercilessly, but anyone not from the city is strictly forbidden from the familial bonding. New York is not unique in this camaraderie, but it may be more stern in it’s practice than most other places in the world. This is not a product of September 11th either, just ask former Atlanta Braves pitcher and all around jerk-off John Rocker…

Ruling the world: If a tree fell in the woods, how would it effect traffic on the Long Island Expressway? In California, we are taught to be global citizens. In foreign countries, it is imperative to know what your neighbors, and what the United States is doing. In New York, there is only New York. I am not saying that New Yorker’s are not aware of the world around them, because in many ways they are far more connected than a lot of other parts of our great nation. The difference is New York views the rest of the world like a weather report. Wars, famines, floods, ethnic cleansing, devastating earthquakes, violent uprisings, Toyotathon, New York knows of all of these events, because New Yorkers need to know if they need to wear a jacket out to Chelsea Piers.

Eating 5-Star Meals, morning, noon, and night: True on both a literal, and figurative level, everything you want you can find in New York. Peruvian cuisine, knock off handbags, skyscrapers that pierce the heavens and mock God himself, a hot dog stand every 14 feet, used vinyl in both record and clothing form, art, books, movies, music, parades, parks, history, everything but a parking space. New Yorkers, like natives of any cultural center, tend to be numb to the greatness of the city while still being acutely aware that they are privy to an experience few of us in the rest of the world will ever understand. How I long for midnight pastrami and wish for a 24 Hour Deli in my small corner of suburbia. Alas, this is the price I pay for being able to safely stow my car.

Contracting bowel-shaking food poisoning on a weekly basis: As much joy and reverence as I gain from visiting New York, attempting to blend seamlessly with the native throng, the pace of life, the constant noise, the lack of traffic laws, the amount of foot traffic, the high cost of living, the overwhelming sense of being surrounded by a machine much larger than yourself, and the ever vigilant side stepping to keep from becoming grist in it’s mills, there is nothing like stepping off a plane back in Southern California. Living in the city, I wonder when and if the denizens of the grand Metropolis ever get a chance to exhale. Like overloading on grease at the state fair, or one too many street side falafels there is such a thing as too much of a good thing…

Well, that was cathartic, and will give me a chance to see if anyone from the city reads this blog… If so, I’m sure I’ll be sufficiently flogged for overstepping my non New Yorker bounds, but the next time I’m in the city, I dare you to recognize me as a tourist… I’ll get back to my usual film/music/book fascinations soon enough. I just had to indulge the demon chomping on my cerebrum. Hay, maybe by the time I take a vacation elsewhere I’ll be ready to write about Las Vegas…