Yep--YouTube Thursday. We gotta be flexible, BlogWorld, if we're going to make it through baseball season.
The Michael Jackson post got me thinking about other seminal television performances. MJ's Motown performance was iconic: it gave us the moonwalk, and cemented Jackson as not only an adult pop star, but the dominant pop icon of his generation. After that, everyone else was officially playing for second.
So, what are some other watershed television performances?
I would definitely include Nirvana's Unplugged. While it didn't make them stars, it reinvented their stardom and helped shape their legacy as much as any one performance. After it, Nirvana not only meant something else to an entire generation, they meant more to it.
And, then, the Big Two: Elvis on Ed Sullivan:
The Beatles on Ed Sullivan:
What are some others? Which are your personal favorites? Hit up the comments and let me know!
Folks frequently ask who some of my favorite Nashville artists are. Today's YouTube Wednesday is a tribute to some of my favorite local heroes, both in Nashville and elsewhere.
Because I want to get the conversation going, I'm only listing a few. For every Antenna Shoes there are five more deserving of all your Wednesday-morning-adulation-and-possibly newfound-fanship. So click some videos and say what's on your mind. But mostly, I'll open this up as a question...because I don't talk enough about local artists in this space:
Who are your favorite local artists?
This can be for Nashville folks or anyone, anywhere. Everyone's got a favorite artist from their zip code that they'd like to share with the whole world. Who, on a local level, are some of your favorites?
Now, here goes:
Antenna Shoes, Memphis ("All You've Left Behind") Something of a supergroup of local Memphis musicians and individual artists, and one of many projects for singer/songwriter Tim Regan. I could gush all day about guitarist Steve Selvidge (and have in the past), and trumpeter Nahshon Bensford, or the exciting number of pop-leaning Memphis bands these days, or how good they were when I caught them in Nashville last fall...
For now just enjoy this video from Ardent Studios and tell me "All You've Left Behind" isn't one of the best songs the Black Keys haven't written.
Tommy and the Whale, Nashville ("Blackout") In a town where country remains king, they are an ideal alternative: consummate musicians, artistically honest, inclusive, versatile, and always listenable. As performers, they're exciting and uber-sharp, always tight but still spontaneous. Some of their best stuff features a horn line, but for now enjoy this vid of "Blackout."
Caitlin Rose, Nashville ("Things Change") One popular gripe about Nashville artists is that they're frequently predictable. Industry towns often want their new artists to sound like their old artists, which spawns a large number of sad, semi-successful imitators chasing the proverbial rabbit. I love Caitlin Rose because she is too talented, her voice as an artist too unique, to ever be derivative. In a town of paint-by-numbers songwriting, Caitlin always says something I've never heard before.
Sam & Ruby, Nashville ("Heaven's My Home") Full-disclosure here: Sam Brooker was one of the first songwriters I met in Nashville when I started playing. He's the posterchild for everything good about the Nashville scene: generous, eager to help, talented. Together, he and Ruby are an impressive combination live. I was in attendance the night this video ("Heaven's My Home") was shot, and it's still one of my favorite moments at any Nashville concert.
YouTube Wednesday is a change of pace this week: a dose of comedy, to ward off pig flu.
There is a guy I went to school with. A friend, if you will. I won't, because I secretly hate him. He's smarter than me and funnier than me and would correct the grammar of this sentence if he had the chance. He's all, "hey, I went to private school," and "hey, I'm a successful comedy writer in Los Angeles," and "hey, I can afford to have my clothes dry cleaned," and "hey, I'm a nice person who gives back to society." I've known him for years and I'm waiting for other shoe to drop. It hasn't. But it will, oh yes.
Anyway, he recently created a web series called "Unsuited." You know it's good because if it weren't I'd take the opportunity to tell him how untalented he is and dance over his internet grave.
In all seriousness, I'm proud to share the first two episodes with y'all, and can't wait to see more. Hopefully they'll have future episodes soon. So, get your chuckles in and I'll see you back here soonly!
Unsuited, Episode 1
Unsuited, Episode 2
Oh, and just a little note: Five Dollar Cover, the MTV series about Memphis bands (including semi-fictional versions of Lucero, Amy LaVere, Al Kapone, etc.) debuts this Friday, May 1. Hit up the site and be sure to check it out. Craig Brewer (Hustle & Flow) is the man behind it.
Color me excited. And ridiculous, for typing that.
Sometimes it's too much. Sometimes it's too frustrating, too exhilarating, too much to contain. Sometimes words won't do, and it bubbles up from your chest and explodes from your lungs, then out your mouth like a cannonball. Sometimes it's wordless. Sometimes it's the guttural, purist form of one right word.
Sometimes you gotta scream, Blogworld.
Here now, in an alternative to YouTube Wednesday, is a list of Rock's Greatest Screams.
This list is by no means comprehensive, just several of my favorite screams in the history of pop/rock. Join in and let me know your favorites, and what I'm missing out on!
Rock's Greatest Screams!
The Beatles, "Long Tall Sally" (0:32) In later years, Paul's rockabilly remixes were a sincerely schlocky form of flattery, but the Beatles' early covers are some of the best we have, and some of Paul's sharpest vocals. Little Richard's original is controlled chaos, wonderful and exuberant and unpredictable; the Beatles' cover is a glorified riot, pushing the song as high and as fast as it can go. Paul's up to the challenge. It's his scream leading into the first solo that marks the song's first departure from the original: Paul simply can't help himself. He's having too much fun. What follows is a sound of pure, unbridled joy. Late "rocker" vocals by Paul would be endearing self-parodies. But in this scream you can hear what made the Beatles THE BEATLES: before the hits, the American invasion, the hoopla, and the superstardom, they were four consummate musicians who loved playing rock music.
Radiohead, "Stop Whispering" (4:38) I can't find the original Pablo Honey version in its entirety, so please enjoy the edited YouTube clip and iTune the song. Even without its climactic scream (at 4:38 on the actual record), "Stop Whispering" would still be one of Thom Yorke's hallmark vocal performances. His strength and control at the top of his vocal register would inspire hundreds of imitators in the next decade, most of them doomed to falsetto-laden antiheroics. At each refrain, Yorke sings "stop whispering/start shouting" at a delicate volume; as a listener you realize that, for the song to fulfill its promise, Yorke himself must shout at some point. The scream comes in the last refrain, but what makes it special is that it starts normally. Throughout the sustained note of "shoooout," Yorke gradually turns the normal note into a scream. You can actually hear--second by second--his vocal chords tearing themselves loose. It's a remarkable moment, and I've never heard anything else quite like it.
Led Zeppelin, "Whole Lotta Love" (2:43) The scream in "Whole Lotta Love" is really a duet: in the song's unabashedly sexual breakdown, Plant and Page play off each other, calling and responding to each other's squeals, yelps, yells, and screams. There's no single legendary, sustained, primal call here--just a thrilling, spontaneous duet between the guitarist and singer, each pushing each other toward climax.
(Side note: I'm not an unconditional lover of Robert Plant. Zeppelin, at their best, were amazing blues improvisors and inventors. Unfortunately--and understandably--what we get on record wasn't always their best. Plant's work on Zeppelin I and Houses of the Holy are sometimes hard for me to hear, often bringing moments of masturbatory histrionics without anything truly new, or exciting, or memorable--like the breakdown in "Whole Lotta Love." To me, Robert Plant was a talent; Jimmy Page was The Talent.)
Pearl Jam, "Blood" (1:03) In one of the most vulnerable vocals of the 90's, Vedder is audibly desperate, pained, and clawing his way out of it. The entire song features a screaming refrain ("It's my blooooood"), but at 1:03 the band drops out and let's Eddie's single, sustained scream do all the talking for them. In terms of sheer supernatural power, length, and violence, it's possibly rock's greatest scream. After eleven seconds of blood-curdling magic, perhaps the greatest (and most impressive) vocal moment is what comes next: a couplet sung in a pure, gentle, nearly-whispered style--a smooth, wholly unaffected vocal tone. No human should be able to follow that scream with that sound.
Nirvana, "Tourette's" (All) The whole thing is such a blatant kiss-off, you can practically hear Cobain daring the mall-queens to like this. A moment of fearless punk on an album of iconic pop/rock.
The Who, "Won't Get Fooled Again" (7:44) There's a reason this is an easy answer: it really is that great. Within the context of the song--an epic rock saga almost symphonic its phases--Daltrey's scream at the 7:44 mark means everything. It means more than the instrumental section it ends, more than the verses and choruses and bridges it succeeds, more than the outtro it catalyzes. Depending on the time of day or season or year, it could sound like the end of times, or a new beginning, a triumph or a downfall, victory or defeat. If rock at its best and purest is a wordless expression of freedom, then let Roger Daltrey's scream at 7:44 be one of rock's landmark moments. It is, above all else, free.
***And a Special Bonus! Rock's Worst Scream: Switchfoot, "Meant to Live"(2:37) There is a difference between singing and screaming, and there is a difference between yelling and screaming, and this is somehow none of the three. He clearly got to the mic and didn't have a clue which of the three he wanted to do. He should've yelled, because he can't sing there, and the song lacks the anger or believable joy to merit a legitimate scream. What we get instead is one of rock's biggest vocal abortions. This is what it sounds like when a man can't get it up. This is the sound of Man, Failing.
(Side note: I actually enjoy the song as a guilty pleasure. But this scream is unspeakably bad.)
What are your favorite screams? What am I missing? Hit up the comments and yell at me!
Believe it or not, Blogworld, I'm on IR. I suffered a non-typing injury that nonetheless affects my blogging skills and prowess, which is to say "I'm an idiot who slammed a door on his hand and probably broke his thumb," which is to say that I'm here, and I'm typing, but it ain't easy. If you picture me fighting through the pain whilst typing by chewing on a towel like Jerry Tarkanian, begging off morphine from a nurse, yelling at a non-existent coach that "I'm fine, damn you," you're not far off.
To quote a friend from college who didn't break his thumb, "I'minafightwithmyspacebar."
So, this week's going to be a little light on new content whilst I fashion popsicle-stick casts and Google "gangreen." But, here's some YouTube love!
Lucero, "When You Decided to Leave" (with the incomparable Rick Steff)
Lucero, "Kiss the Bottle" (Jawbreakers cover)
And a special bonus, another Memphis artist currently working on a new record: Cory Branan! Here's his on-air performance of the unreleased wonder, "Walkaround":
Y'all Lucero fans? You likey-the-Branan? What's on YourTube?
Or, "Facebook: The Happiest (Kind Of) Place on Earth (Kind Of)"
Louis CK isn't new to this. He's been an Emmy-winning comedy writer for David Letterman, Conan O'Brien, Dana Carvey and, perhaps most notably, Chris Rock. He's performed as a stand-up for over two decades, and is one of Comedy Central's 100 Greatest Comics of All-Time. He has co-written Saturday TV Funhouse shorts with SNL legend Robert Smigel. He had a sitcom on HBO. His 2008 special, Chewed Up, is one of the decade's best, a seminal look at 21st century parenting and adulthood. He's even had the honor of being plagiarized by Dane Cook!
Despite the resume, most folks my age don't know Louis CK. Rather, they didn't know him, until his most recent appearance on Conan went viral on Facebook. In the last two weeks, I've counted this video posted on my Facebook by twenty-six different people. The same comment always follows, "Wow, this is awesome," or "who is that guy" or "amazing" or my favorite, "so true!"
These people are right, of course. The bit, entitled "Everything's Amazing, Nobody's Happy" is great, and classic Louis CK. See for yourself:
So why is Louis CK a sudden hit with the Facebook set?
Facebook isn't the place people go to live their life, or to share their life, or even remotely experience life. Facebook is the place people go to project a more desirable life to their world. If you spent the day alone, in the dumps, upset about something, the world might not know. But if you update your status as "Best day ever!" 500 people immediately think you're doing great and--implicitly-- better than them.
Status updates (where people go to tell you how they're doing at that moment) are great on average ("lunch with Jen...so great!"), unrelentingly awesome at their best ("I don't know what I did to deserve this ridiculously fabulous life!"), and mundane at their worst ("it needs to stop raining please!"). As I type this, I have 345 friends. Probably 100 status updates show up on my page per day. I can remember seeing three negative updates, ever. Two were by the same person, in the same day. That would, I guess, make that poster the saddest person. Ever.
To boot, only flattering pictures are tagged. Only impressive jobs are listed. Who cares if you read Rimbaud or care about Africa? Your profile says you do. Photo comments are exclusively about the "best time." Exclamation points abound. Everything's amazing.
Of course, positivity is a good thing. Cheerfulness is a good thing. Facebook is an incredibly sunny place to visit, and I don't fault anyone for playing this game. If you have an outlet where it is not only acceptable but expected and normal to broadcast your life to hundreds of people as the best possible version of itself, wouldn't you do it? Shouldn't you do it?
Sure, that's a natural impulse. But even if it's acceptable/expected/normal for Everything Facebook to be amazing, it's probably not real. And while I'd love to believe--I honestly root for this--that the world's as happy as Facebook depicts it, nothing's sadder than seeing 3-pages of fictitious interweb euphoria, because nobody's sadder than the person who talks constantly about how happy they are. This is human nature, constant and true throughout history, from the tragic clowns of antiquity to the pitifully smiling Asian Guy From Fargo Who Just Wants to Sit Next to Frances McDormand.
Facebook, thou doth protest too much.
So when I see the endless loop of gleeful self-fiction, I want to think, "wow, March 2, 2009 is the greatest day in history for everyone alive, even miraculously better than March 1, who had that in the Pinnacle of Existence office pool" but all I can actually think is, "what's going on here" and "who needs a hug?"
Enter Louis C.K., a comic whose greatest gift is his ability to make people laugh at their own hidden fears, doubts, and motivations. Enter his innocuous late-night interview, where he uses universal anecdotes and daily minutiae to illustrate the point that, as good as everything seems, we're unfulfilled. And he presents it all from the safe distance of airplane travel and gripes about technology, but the meaning is clear:
Everything's Amazing, Nobody's Happy.
This was the Louis CK bit that the Facebook set (the site doesn't have a demographic, but it does have a universal modus operandi) was destined to find, and embed, and enjoy. We share it because its jokes are funny, but we understand it because its title--and subtext--are the unofficial slogan of Facebook: "OMG, everything's amazing (nobody's happy)!" And I can't help but feel that the twenty-six friends sharing it (and counting), and the million that have viewed it (much more than any other Louis C.K. video), don't just relate to complaints about flight delays; sure, the comedy itself is smart, funny, and winning. Rather, they implicitly relate to its message, because they've thought it, or witnessed it on Facebook, the very medium they're now using to share it.
Sometimes, if art's good enough, it subverts its audience in order to convert it. Andre 3000 made people listen and dance to a song that sang, "y'all don't wanna hear me/you just wanna dance." Jon Stewart became a real and trusted vox populi by calling himself, "the most trusted name in fake news." And Louis CK is currently a hit on Facebook--the site of exaggerated personal fiction--with a video called "Everything's Amazing, Nobody's Happy."
Best Post Ever!
Now, here's some more Louis CK to enjoy (***NOT SAFE FOR WORK):
Louis CK, "Children and Their Secrets" (From Chewed Up)
Louis CK, "Being White" (From Chewed Up)
Louis CK, "Bad Words" (From Chewed Up)
What do y'all think of Louis CK? Heard him before? Think that I'm wrong and that Facebook has actually supplanted Disneyworld as Happiest Place on Earth? Had March 3rd in the Pinnacle of Existence office pool and resent the way this played out? Take personal offense to all of this? Holler, I'm an ear.
In beautiful Happyworldland***, CM
***Free pizza for whomever places this movie quote.
The other day I was looking out my back window, wearing multiple robes, stroking a non-existent beard, lemonade in one hand, pipe in the other, waxing nostalgic about Things Long Gone, like "mail," Arrested Development, and music videos.
In 2009, it's redundant to bemoan the extinction of the music video, or to lambast MTV for not playing any, or to wish that videos mattered again. Instead, on this YouTube Tuesday (editor's note: it's Wednesday), a brief homage to the time when videos did matter. Here's a handful that, more than the song itself, made me a fan.
Rage Against the Machine, "Bulls on Parade"
I remember being a middle-schooler post-pickup-game at the community center when I saw this on MTV. I had never heard RATM before. I had never even heard of RATM before. And this video showed tens of thousands in a full-scale and choreographed riot with the music. Where was this band from? Who were all these people? Was there a revolution on, and I'm late to it? What will tomorrow look like? I had to find out.
My first introduction to Pearl Jam was hearing my brother sing "whoo-whoo" along with the "Jeremy" video. Later I'd realize that "Jeremy" was outstanding and its video arguably the best of the decade, but I was eight at the time. I only knew that my brother's "whoo's" were annoying, and that the video scared the crap out of me.
But "Even Flow" was everything I wanted: an insane live shooting, complete with hilarious anti-authority rants ("not a TV studio....JOSH!"), Stone Gossard's patented bowlegged-strut-dance-thing, a joyous but non-threatening audience of teenagers, and what can only be described as the best frontman histrionics ever recorded on film. It's easy to forget now--knowing what we do about Eddie--but the first time everyone saw the "Even Flow" video, they all thought the same thing: "No. Freaking. Way. What a horrifying badass." Every time you caught yourself wondering, "is this guy for real," he'd jump off a higher balcony, or swing across curtains, or hang from the scaffolding at Lollapalooza without any plan for getting down. And it all started with the "Even Flow" video.
Blur, "Song 2"
One of the only songs I can think of that got to MTV before 96X. As such, I knew the song first as a video, and I loved the song. The video itself offers nothing major to add, to I won't either. Just know that Christmas I asked for a tiny padded room, a giant fan, and a rock band. Guess which one I got.
For all the TigerBeat direction of this video, guys loved it, too. You'd think a bunch of 8th grade dudes would profess to hate the pretty-boy with his pretty-boy dance moves, but everyone loved Usher, without shame or guilt. And, even weirder, we were right. Just goes to show that a great hook (hey, remember those, R&B?) can go a long way. Doesn't hurt if the choreography involves Usher actually dancing out of his shoes. I don't care how snarky you think you are, that's awesome.
Kidding. Worst video ever. Seriously, watch it and think about how it could be any worse/make less sense/take itself more seriously/be more unintentionally funny. Brainstorm. You'll black out and wake up hours later, your worldview broken, your beliefs shaken. It's that bad/good.
A few weeks back I was working at my computer and watching Leno.
A few weeks back I was reading WWTDD with the Tonight Show in the background.
A few weeks back I was reading someone make fun of Kirsten Dunst and was too lazy to change the channel to Letterman.
Call it fate, call it serendipity, call it a bunch of nothing, but that night's musical guest disturbed my sleep. Raphael Saadiq--whom I'm ashamed to admit I'd never heard before--performed "100 Yard Dash," the best throwback R&B I've heard since throwback was possible. It's not often you discover a truly exciting artist on a talk show--much less Leno--but it's not without precedent.
The song itself is Stax's strut with Motown's polish, half brawn and half finesse, all brass and velvet. Even the lyric echoes that dichotomy, juggling the singer's love of an unattainable woman (a Motown theme) and the belief that he'll attain her (a Stax one). The horns are present (Stax) but not a guiding force (Motown), just another vibrant part of the arrangement that tells the story. Everything, from the indispensable bass-line to the double-time clap-break (that appropriately sounds like applause) is authentic, vibrant, and fun.
So here, a little YouTube treat for you on a Tuesday...See what you think!
Raphael Saadiq, "100 Yard Dash"
And a bonus! Two more talk show performances that helped cement my fandom:
My Morning Jacket, "One Big Holiday" --on Conan several years back
Or, as Conan calls them, "My MORN-ing Jacket." This was my second introduction to My Morning Jacket and it remains one of the best TV performances I've ever seen. I remember sitting in my dormroom and feeling shellshocked and breathless, like I was in on a huge secret and wanted to tell everyone I knew.
Cory Branan, "Miss Ferguson" --on Letterman, spring of 2003
I'd owned his debut album, The Hell You Say, for a few months when he made his network debut. As staggering for its honesty as its fearlessness, this performance is everything a singer/songwriter's show isn't supposed to be: raw, swaggering, kinetic, and exuberant. I remember the girl upstairs remarking afterward, "he looked so nervous." Well, yeah...listen to the song. He's asking a girl out and about to have a coronary...how's he supposed to look?
Yep--YouTube Thursday. We gotta be flexible, BlogWorld, if we're going to make it through baseball season.
