I first discovered jazz when I was in my high school's choir. I loved its ease, its sense of pure emotion, and how absolutely fun it is. No wonder that I fell in love with pianist Herbie Hancock and one of his signature songs, "Cantaloupe Island."
The piano seems so at ease, controlled yet unpredictable. There are moments that the trumpet seems to be laughing, because this piece is so fun and it's hard to contain it.
Hancock is known for his experimental style and pushing jazz into new directions, but I mostly just love his classical jazz style, which is super cool and smooth.
Speaking of funny, They Might Be Giants are a wonderfully creative band. They've been around since the early 80s and they just don't seem to care what normal songs are about and they write off-the-wall stuff like "Dr. Worm:"
One thing I love about TMBG is that they do a lotofeducationalmusic, which I like. But its more than just songs for kids. They have a fun sound and their music isn't pretentious. It's stupidsometimes, but it's okay for music to be stupid sometimes. And TMBG were kind enough to remind us about that.
Weird Al Yankovic is the king of parodies, and even though "Amish Paradise" has been his biggest hit, "Fat" has always been my favorite.
I should point out that I have made a point not to include any music videos for the songs that I've written about so far. I wanted the music to be the focus and not have anything take away from that, but I don't think that this video takes away from the laughs, but adds to them, especially when compared to the original.
Now that my musical journey is over (or at least current), I decided to continue the topic of music by simply writing about songs that are meaningful to me or that I simply like.
While Allison and I were dating, her little brother, Tom, was given the video game Rock Band as a gift one Christmas. Allison and I played through the game (on easy, I think) with her on vocals and me on the guitar controller (occasionally Tom would join in on drums). One song that I had heard before, but never enjoyed until that first play through, was the Queens of the Stone Age's "Go With The Flow":
We both really liked it. I liked its fast pace and use of guitars. I also liked the lyrics, how they seem a bit bizarre, but you can hear the theme of regret and longing (the lines towards the end, "I want a new mistake / Loses more than hesitates" work especially well). I searched out some of their other songs and I really liked whatIfound.
Who knew that a video game would change my taste in music?
So, now that I have a favorite band, that means that my musical journey is over, right? Well, that's the complicated thing about personal development: it never seems to stop. When I decided that Beck was my favorite musician, it helped me define something about myself that I felt needed to be defined. But now, I'm less certain that I need that definition.
As I've gotten older, I've tried to explore other kinds of music. (Did you know that jazz can be very cool? I kind of did, but I never had jazz on my playlist prior to this year.) Through that exploration, I've discovered that sometimes the song I want to listen to is heavy or light or somber or happy or fast or slow and that if I keep going to Beck for all of those moods, I'll be limiting myself.
I still think Beck is my favorite musician, but I don't think it's as important to have a favorite band as it was when I was younger. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I'm married and nearly done with school and I feel like I know who I am and where I am going more than I have in the past. Maybe I was a bit lost in other areas, so having a favorite band was necessary to make up for that. Maybe not. Whatever the reason, I've progressed past that and now I don't feel the need to have a favorite.
Beck's music was fun, but it wasn't until I really listened to "Missing" that I connected with his music.
First off, this is a samba, which is weird for a rock/folk/alternative musician to produce. But it works. The lyrics are melancholy, but they're the kinds of feelings that everyone has experienced: you're living your life and doing the best you can, but something just isn't quite right and you can't figure out what it is; all you know is something is missing.
It's a beautiful song and to this day it's my favorite Beck song, who just so happens to be my favorite musician (can I call him a band? He has a band that he performs with, under the title, Beck, so does that make them the band Beck? Whatever.) With this song, something that was missing for me (having a favorite band) was now restored. As strange as it may sound, I felt complete in a way that I hadn't for a long time.
This is Beck's first big hit, "Loser." The song, like the musician, is a bit strange. The verses are rapped, the chorus is a combination of English and Spanish, the lyrics are fairly nonsensical, and it employs the use a zither. It's like nothing else.
The funny thing about "Loser" is that it's a hit from the early 90s and I'd heard it many times before I discovered it. I remember Ian and I were seeing who could learn the words to this song first (why we chose this song, I don't know) and I got both verses down in a couple of days. It turns out that I liked the song.
Then I started checkingoutothersongsbyBeck. I liked how he didn't follow the same patterns that other artists did. There were certainly elements that appeared in his songs that were recognizable, but he changed it up with the sounds that he produced. I also liked that the emotion of the song was clear, even if the lyrics were incredibly esoteric.
The funny thing about downloading music is sometimes you download the wrong song. And sometimes that song is about twelve kinds of awesome. This is how I discovered the John Butler Trio with their song, "Old Man."
The John Butler Trio is an Australian band with a super unique sound. I was blown away by this song and I continue to listen to it regularly. I was so impressed with this song and others that I decided that this was my new band. Then I heard how politicallycharged many of their songs are and I realized that I couldn't get behind them as much as I thought.
When I realized that I was no longer into the heavy stuff that I had defined myself with, I went searching for something that new that fit. I got some guidance from Ian (again), but also I really listened to the alternative rock station for something I could connect with. Cake's "The Distance" seemed like a nice place to start.
It has emotion, it has an almost spoken quality, it has trumpets, and it has distorted guitars. This is easily the heaviest song by Cake, but its one of manysongsaboutcars, for whatever reason. I liked the honesty of the band, singing about relationships and real life stuff, not disconnected lyrics about war or destruction (like Metallica), plus they have a unique sound that isn't found with other bands. (Plus, Cake is the only band that has been brought up in Sunday School with their song "Sheep Go to Heaven.")
Even though I liked Cake, I don't think I ever really considered them to be my new favorite band. I liked them, but they didn't quite fit. The search continued.
During my obsession with Metallica, I encountered another band that caught my attention because they were even angrier: Disturbed. I should warn you that the following song is really heavy and I haven't been able to listen to the whole thing in preparation for this post. There is no offensive language, but you may be offended by "Prayer."
I am very surprised that I could even listen to that, let alone that I liked it. And this is much less heavy than the band's first album, The Sickness. Obviously, I've calmed down since then.
After I got involved in comic books, I was really angry. If you ever want to meet someone who's expectations are unrealistic, while still being super opinionated, pompous, and "knowledgeable," talk to a fanboy. Anyway, because I was an angry teen, Metallica seemed a logical choice, but I really didn't like them until I heard this song:
It really was the introduction that did it for me. I couldn't believe that a song could be this heavy and have that complex an intro at the same time. "For Whom the Bell Tolls" was fast, heavy, dark, melodious, and (most importantly) angry.
I went on to collect all of the band's albums (surprisingly, even though Ride the Lightning meant so much to me, I bought Master of Puppets first) and I didn't care about any band that wasn't Metallica. I'm sure I was a pain to be around. But Metcallica was important because it was the first time I had a favorite band. Before this, I had bands I liked but not a favorite. When I was on my mission, one of the first things that came up when I got a new companion was who our favorite bands were. By having a favorite band, it helped give me a sense of identity, not just musically either.
But being angry for so long wasn't healthy. When I got back from my mission, I found myself listening to the comparatively lighter Load and Reload albums. I held on to Metallica as my favorite band for a long time, even though it was obvious that I wasn't listening to them very much any more. It was important to me to have a favorite band and without one, even one that didn't quite fit, I felt like I had lost a part of myself.
When I got a part time job in high school and actually had some disposable income, I started buying albums for the first time. Before this point, I either was at the mercy of what came on the radio or what was available from other members of my family. Now, I got to choose what I listened to. The first album I bought was The Beatles' 1, which was still not much of a departure of what I had already been exposed to. The first real steps to developing my own individual musical identity was with the second album I ever bought: The Offspring's Americana. My favorite song was the single, "The Kids Aren't Alright."
It was fast, it was hard, it had nice vocal harmonies, and the subject matter was serious. Mostly, it was fun. The whole album was, with songs that didn't take themselves too seriously, including "Pretty Fly (For a White Guy)," which was meant to be funny. The Offspring was a band that, for whatever reason, I really connected with, especially "Have You Ever," which is about social anxiety.
But the really distinction the Offspring holds for me is as a "gateway band." Now, I should say that I recently rediscovered their music, but for a long time I just forgot about them because they weren't heavy enough for me (mostly, they weren't Metallica enough for me).
Ian introduced me to rock. He was learning to play guitar and that led him to listen to different things than we were exposed to by our parents. One of the greatest guitarists of Rock and Roll is also one of my favorites: Jimi Hendrix. Here's one of his ballads, "The Wind Cries Mary":
The song's lyrics don't make a lot of sense by themselves, but they don't have to. The music that goes with it is beautiful, cool, amazing, and somehow both simple and complex at once. Jimi Hendrix showed me that there was other music out there than just oldies (even if he died well before my parents ever met), and that was an important step in finding my musical identity.
When I was in high school, I was a big dork. As a freshman, I played D & D during lunch (and later Magic: The Gathering). Later, I read and collected comic books. Now, those things just make me a nerd, but I also was pretty socially inept. So, it may be unsurprising that I felt like no one understood me. Maybe that's why I got into Simon and Garfunkel, especially the song "The Sound of Silence."
The song is about a depressing present that may lead to an even bleaker future. It also includes subtle parts about how the singer knows something that will help the masses, but they refuse to listen. So to a teen who feels rejected by his peers and has different (and in his mind, "better") hobbies, this kind of fit.
I really liked Simon and Garfunkel, especially during my sophomore year. I remember working on a science paper late one night while listening to one of their albums (on audio tape, which makes me sound so old). It was good stuff.
What's my point to this? Well, I was a teen that listened to crappy music because I felt that no one understood me. If I had been born five years later, I probably would have been into Emo.
Ah, the Beatles. The band that every other band gets compared to at some point.
With this one, I simply downloaded a bunch of Beatles songs one day and had never heard it before. Unlike a lot of songs that I'll be talking about in this series, I never had the chance to re-discover this song.
It really doesn't have as much to offer as their other stuff. The melody is a bit simplistic, the rhyme scheme is rudimentary, and the main character's name may or may not be a racial slur (although, based on what I know about the Beatles, I'll guess "not"). What this song does have, however, is a great story. The "hero" of the story doesn't get the girl, he doesn't win the fight, and he certainly doesn't get any glory. What he does get is a chance at redemption (or at a "revival," as the song puts it). He goes to his room to nurse his wound and read the Bible. Considering all the drug references in many of the Beatles' songs, one that ends with personal reflection and scripture study is rare.
In the end, the song is fun (if a bit forgettable) with a good moral from a band not known for their good morals.
Is there a certain song for you that you've heard before but suddenly takes on new meaning? Maybe circumstances in your life are reflected by what the song is about, maybe you learned what the songwriter originally meant when he wrote it, or maybe you just realized that the song rocks. I want to write a few posts about music, because sometimes, as powerful as they are, words simply aren't enough.
At the restaurant where I work, the background music is a basic mix of Oldies. There are few songs that I haven't heard at some point before, but there are some that it's like hearing them for the first time. Last night I had one of those experiences with "Unchained Melody."*
It really is a beautiful song, but for whatever reason, when I heard of it I remembered it was the theme to the movie Ghost back in the early 90s. I think I only saw about half of it, once, when it was on TV. What I remembered of it was there was a man who was killed and wanted to simply touch his wife but couldn't because he didn't have a body anymore. Luckily, a psychic allowed him to possess her for the evening. As I remember it, the scene was not sexual in any way, merely a husband being able to experience the joy of holding his wife one more time. Whether that was actually how it was or not, that's what I remembered. Suddenly, the song had new meaning: you can hear the longing in the singer's voice, begging for his love to still be there even though he knows she probably isn't. I thought about what it would be like if I couldn't hold Allison anymore, if we were separated like that. I had to focus on work to hold back the emotion.
This morning, I told Allison about it and started crying. The emotion in the song is profound: deep love mixed with powerful sadness. I told her that even the thought of being with her and being able to hold her in my arms was too much (even now, just listening to the song again has me crying like a baby). It was a wonderful moment that we shared and even though it was difficult emotionally, I was glad for it. It also makes me grateful for the Sealing power, so that if we are worthy of our covenants, I won't have to be without her (and with that thought, I can't stop smiling).
Like I said, as powerful as they are, sometimes words aren't enough.
What are songs that mean more than words can alone to you?
*Sorry, for the live version; I couldn't find a version of the studio recoding that I could embed.
"The politician on the bus goes, 'Vote for me,' 'Vote for me,' 'Vote for me.' The politician on the bus goes, 'Vote for me,' all through the town."
"The emo kid on the bus goes, 'I am sad,' 'I am sad,' 'I am sad.' The emo kid on the bus goes, 'I am sad,' all through the town."
"The druggie on the bus goes, 'I need a hit,' 'I need a hit,' 'I need a hit.' The druggie on the bus goes, 'I need a hit,' all through the town."
"The bipolar man on the bus goes, 'Laugh, laugh, cry,' 'Laugh, laugh, cry,' 'Laugh, laugh, cry.' The bipolar man on the bus goes, 'Laugh, laugh, cry,' all through the town."
"The psycho on the bus goes, [one continuous scream] all through the town."
If You're Happy and You Know it
"If you're happy and you know it, shoot a gun (bang, bang). If you're happy and you know it, shoot a gun (bang, bang). If you're happy and you know it, then your face will surely show it. If you're happy and you know it, shoot a gun (bang, bang)."
"If you're happy and you know it, insult your friend ('You're dumb!'). If you're happy and you know it, insult your friend ('You're dumb!'). If you're happy and you know it, then your face will surely show it. If you're happy and you know it, insult your friend ('You're dumb!')."
John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmid (final verse)
"John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmid His name was my name, too. Whenever we went out, the people used shout, 'There goes John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmid!' So I eliminated him."
