Beck: Live in Concert

Last night, I saw my favorite musician, Beck, perform live in Charlottesville, Virginia.  And it was amazing.

Leah came with me, despite not being familiar with Beck's music beyond his biggest hit, "Loser."  I took advantage of the long drive down to the venue to introduce her to some of his discography -- it probably would have been better if I had played just some of my favorites, but I just set my iPod to shuffle through my Beck collection, though I pointed out when a particular song really spoke to me.

Once we got down to Charlottesville, we checked into our hotel so we could just go straight to sleep after the show.  When it was time to head over to the amphitheater, I suddenly felt the bottom of my stomach drop away: I had forgotten the tickets.  I immediately started having a panic attack and even started crying, but Leah came to my rescue and told me to look up the confirmation email so I could show my proof of purchase to get replacement tickets.  I searched for said email, but nothing came up.  I called Ticketmaster and worked my way through the phone tree (and multiple disconnections) while Leah called the concert venue, Sprint Pavilion.  I never got through to anyone, but Leah did and found out that as long as I have my ID and the credit card I used, the staff at the venue would be able issue me new tickets.  I felt a lot better, but I didn't completely calm down until I had the replacement tickets in hand.

A picture to remember where we parked becomes a fun memory with the addition of a cute pose.

(I know that I spent years in a relationship with an emotionally abusive partner, so my perspective is warped, but I was truly touched when Leah wouldn't let me give up after my blunder.  She helped me find a solution and didn't abandon me when my anxiety got the best of me.  I cannot thank her enough for what she did for me.)

Despite getting in line right when the doors opened, we were able to quickly make it to the front of the audience.  The way the amphitheater is set up, there were no seats at the front, just an open area in which to stand and we were third or fourth from the very front.  For the most part people were well behaved and didn't try force their way to the front (the exception being two rather short teenaged girls near the beginning and a drunk guy near the end of the show).

A selfie while the opening act tuned their instruments.

The opening act was a band from Sweden called Peter Bjorn and John, which was confusing for me because they left out a much needed comma from their band's name (the three founding members of the band are Peter, Bjorn, and John, for which the band is named).  They were a great band to get the crowd in the mood.  The lead guitarist and singer was very energetic and jumped around a lot while he played: there was even one song where he only sang and he walked through the audience, with lots of people giving him high fives (the high fives didn't start until after he passed us, so I never got one).  I enjoyed the music they played and was especially surprised when I heard a song I recognized, "Young Folks."  They only played for about thirty minutes, but I'm glad I got to see them.

My view for the evening.

It took about thirty-five minutes for the road crew to clear Peter Bjorn and John's set from the stage and for Beck's band to start playing.  The man of the hour came out after the music had already started, allowing the crowd to really get amped up.  The band started with the classic song, "Devi's Haircut," but with extra solos.  And no Beck performance would be complete without a rendition of the song that made him famous, "Loser," which was the second song of the night.  His crowd work was great, pointing the mic to the audience for every chorus.  I looked over at Leah and even though she only kind of knew the song, she was really into it.

I liked that Beck sang some songs and picked up his guitar and played while singing for others.  Even though he let his backup band carry the majority of the songs, make no mistake: this guy can play.

After one particularly moving song, "Paper Tiger," Beck asked a girl in the audience if she was okay, because she had been moved to tears.  She apparently said that she was because he kept going, but you could tell that he was touched that she had felt something so powerful through his music.

And like every good show, there was even a costume change:

Maybe not a particularly exciting costume change, but I appreciated the effort.

About halfway into the show, Beck introduced the members of his band, though I didn't catch any of their names.  Still, here's what they look like:

During the bassist's introduction, he started playing Micheal Jackson's "Billie Jean" and the rest of the band joined in. Beck pointed the mic at the audience for the chorus and later commented that we were "surprisingly in key." 

As the band worked their way through many of Beck's bigger hits, I kept track in my head if there were any major ones that had been left out.  Just as I was worried that one of his biggest hits (and one of my personal favorites) would be excluded, "E-pro" was played as the closing song.  The band quickly vacated the stage, but the audience stayed and cheered for a solid minute, so Beck (unaccompanied) came back out for an encore!  He sang and played his harmonica, which resulted in even more cheers.  After this final song, the roadies came and started breaking down the set, a clear sign that the show was over.

There were a lot of ups and downs leading up to this show, but in the end I had a great time.  I loved the music, I loved the company, and I'm glad I took a ridiculous number of pictures.  I'm exhausted, but it was worth it for the experience.

Tuesdays with Media: Redwoods

Just like jazz, rock has nearly as many subgenres as bands.  One subgenre that I've gotten into more recently is "instrumental progressive metal," which I swear is a real style.  My favorite band in this category of music is Scale the Summit.  Don't let the "metal" part scare you, as their music actually has more in common with classical music than it does with traditional heavy metal, as illustrated in their single, "Redwoods":

If you want to see the lead guitarist play his part, watch this video.

One thing that I like about Scale the Summit is that all of the band members are not only very skilled musicians, but they play non-traditional instruments: both guitarists play seven-string guitars and the bassist plays a six-string bass -- so even if I develop the required skill to play one of their songs, I still wouldn't have the necessary equipment.  Another thing I like about this particular prog metal band is that they have a theme: nature.  They refer to their style as "adventure metal," with song titles that invoke images of going on an amazing journey or swimming with majestic sea creatures.

While some prog metal bands are too far on the metal side of the spectrum and others are too far on the progressive side, Scale the Summit is usually just right for me.

Thanks for joining me for another March as we explored different instrumental songs that I like.  I think we have a tradition on our hands ...

Scale the Summit's music is distributed by Prosthetic Records.

Tuesdays with Media For Mom

Remember last month when I posted about the talented and bizarre guitarist, Buckethead?  Well, my grandma left a comment saying that what I called music was really just noise, at least as far as she was concerned.  Fair enough.  Let's try again with the Spanish-flavored "For Mom."

From his fourth studio album Colma, Buckethead plays a beautiful, slightly haunting acoustic piece with moments of thoughtful sadness as well as apprehensive happiness.  The entire album was written for his mother, who was recovering from colon cancer surgery, and he wanted to make her some music that she would like listening to while healing.  The other songs on the album are also acoustic and he shows off his skills without coming across as flashy.

So even if you didn't care for the last song I posted by this artist, I hope you'll give him another chance because he has made some truly beautiful music (while wearing a bucket on his head).

Tuesdays with Media: The American't

Because any musical genre has certain qualities that make it that genre, you can't go too far outside the establishment before you become a new genre.  This has the unfortunate effect of making a lot of songs sound the same, at least within a particular genre.  That's why when a song clearly adheres to the parameters of a genre and yet sounds like nothing you've heard before, you take notice.  That's how I experienced the first song I ever heard by Christian Scott, "The American't."

Like Herbie Hancock's "Cantaloupe Island" or Dave Brubeck's "Take Five," "The American't" grabs your attention with an amazing rhythm section that doesn't vary much throughout -- not that you'd want it to.  I must admit, I only kind of hear Scott playing his trumpet in this song: the guitar, piano, bass, and drums are so captivating, they're almost hypnotic.

Scott has some other great songs with surprising names, like "Jihad Joe," which has more amazing rhythm guitar, and "The Eraser," which is a more traditional jazz song.  While I haven't explored all of Scott's discography, I have yet to be disappointed by what I've heard from him.  If you're in the mood for some jazz that's different from the rest of the genre, check out Christian Scott.

(Weird thing: Scott is exactly one day younger than me.  It has no bearing on my opinion of him, but it does stand out.)

"The American't" is off of Christian Scott's album, Yesterday You Said Tomorrow, which is distributed by Concord Music Group.

Tuesdays with Media: Lady Nothing

One thing that I like about instrumental songs is that they can be interpreted so many more ways than songs with lyrics.  Not only that, but a song's meaning can change over time.  That's how I've experienced "Lady Nothing" by Bert Jansch.

Jansch was a Scottish folk guitarist and singer who first made it big in mid-60s and was sometimes called the "British Bob Dylan."  He made such an impact that Led Zeppelin, arguably the greatest rock band of all time, stole one of his songs (Jansch's record label didn't think they could win the case and decided not to pursue legal action).

As for today's song, it's my favorite of Jansh's works.  It has a bouncy rhythm and a sad tone.  When I first heard it, I had just filed for divorce.  Seeing the name and linking it to the music made me think about a man who is trying to tell himself that the woman he's lost was no one special (or "nothing"); I saw it as a song about lying to yourself.  Now, with my divorce nearly completed, the song is still melancholy, but not in the same way.  Now I hear a song that's sad, not because the lost love is irreplaceable, but because you realize that she was never who you thought she was: the sadness is not from lying to yourself now, but from realizing you've been lying to yourself the whole and are only now seeing the truth.

"Lady Nothing" is one of those songs that I reacted to strongly when first hearing it.  Now, more than a year later, it's meaning has changed, but it still touches my heart in a way that few other songs have.

"Lady Nothing" is from Bert Jansch's album L.A. Turnaround, which is distributed by Charisma Records.

Tuesdays with Media: Satori

As I did last year, I'm dedicating the month of March to instrumental music that I think is awesome.  Up first is John Danley playing his guitar with a paintbrush:

I love the the fact that Mr. Danley is being so creative with his instrument: he plays the body like a drum, he slides the paintbrush down the coiled strings, and he hammers hard enough with his left hand that he never needs to strum or pluck.  The song itself, "Satori," is mostly in a minor key, so it sounds dark, but never in a scary or evil way; more mysterious, if anything.

Danley's also good at crowd work as can be seen when he tells a fun, meandering story before playing a more traditional song.

I find music especially fun when you get a chance to see a musician perform a song and they are clearly having a blast with it.  John Danley does that in spades.

"Satori" is from the album Cemeteries, Missed Trains, & Blues Skies, distributed by Apriori Records.

A Little Rock and Roll Music

Friday night after work, I went to Ian's place for another jam sesh.  The first time was a lot of fun, but this second time was even better.  I'd been practicing and had improved enough that Ian said that the change in my skill level was noticeable.  There were even a couple of times that I got to start what we played: one time I just started playing a note progression that laid the ground work for Ian and Jimmy (in addition to studying bass riffs and scales, I've also started learning about music theory, i.e., what kinds of notes sound good together) and another time I played the bass part to "Seven Nation Army" by the White Stripes.

The first thing you hear is the bass line.

In the case of the White Stripes song, I started and Joe, the drummer, came in right when he was supposed to.  I hadn't told anyone that it was going to happen, I just did it and suddenly, we were playing a song.

I even tried my hand at singing.  It's hard to play and sing at the same time, but I did my best with the old classic "Sixteen Tons."  It was more blues than rock, but I think I made it work and I even started improvising with an alternate melody at one point.

I look forward to jamming with these guys in the future.  Hopefully, I'll continue to improve and be able to bring even more to the table next time.

Joe, me, and Jimmy (Ian is behind the camera).

Tuesdays with Media: Buckethead and That 1 Guy

Many musicians, even skilled and talented ones, often find it difficult to stand out from the crowd.  Some study hard and become the best at their instrument and in their style, while others go with a gimmick.  Today's post is about two men that fall in the latter category.

Buckethead, the stage name of Brian Carroll, is a fantastic guitarist, but boy is he weird to watch perform:

Your eyes do not deceive you: he's wearing an expressionless white mask and a KFC bucket on his head.  He's a great guitarist and a talented composer (and a prolific one with 255 studio albums to his name), but man is he weird.  All of his stuff I can find on YouTube is some form of rock, but he also has some great jazz albums, which is how I first heard of him.

Another weird performer is That 1 Guy, seen here playing his Magic Pipe:

Don't ask me how that thing makes those sounds, because I haven't a clue, but that song, "The Moon is Disgusting" is a tough earworm to lose.  Mike Silverman, the real name of That 1 Guy, has a more normal look (i.e., not like a serial killer) than Buckethead, but his instruments of choice are truly bizarre and mostly homemade.  The only way these two could get weirder is if they were to team up.

Here's what that looked like:

Appropriately, they call themselves the Frankenstein Brothers when they collaborate.

Two weirdos that rock harder than pretty much anyone else.  That may be the most rock 'n' roll thing ever.

Ensemble

On Friday night, I went to Ian's place to meet him and some of his friends to play some music.  Ian, Joe, and Jimmy had met once before, but lacked a bassist.  When I bought my instrument -- with no intent to join a band -- Ian was quick to invite me.

By Friday, I'd only been playing the bass for two weeks, so my skills were very limited.  Even so, I was able to keep the rhythm and pluck away at the root of the chords being played.  Joe, the drummer, told me that I really brought something that the group was missing.  At one point, Jimmy, the guitarist, started playing a song that I didn't know, but I was able to follow him by watching what chords he was playing.  Ian was on piano, so unless he told me ahead of time what he would be playing, I couldn't recognize just by looking.

We recorded the whole thing, but the audio is really poor quality -- not that it's static-y or anything; not everyone can be heard.  The guys said that they want to get a better sound rig so that we can record everyone properly.  Hopefully, we'll have a recording that's worth sharing next time.  That's right: we're planning on meeting again later this month.  Ideally, we'd like to meet every two weeks, but there are some conflicting work events coming up so we don't know when meet after that, but at least we have a plan in place for the near future.

I had a lot of fun.  I'm playing my instrument in the most simplistic way possible, but for now that's enough.  I'm still practicing everyday and I hope to be able to bring more to the table next time.

Tuesdays with Media: (Don't) Drop the Bass

On Friday, I bought a bass guitar.

It's a four-string Squire Telecaster bass (without a pick-guard) made by Fender, featuring both P- and J-style pickups.  What all that means is that it's a low-end bass made by a company known for the quality of their guitars and it can be used to play either rock or jazz.

I bought it to help keep me from getting depressed.  As I've stated before, coming home to an empty apartment can be difficult, so to combat those feelings of loneliness, I decided I should pick up a hobby that requires me to learn a new skill.  I figured that an instrument would be a good fit and I picked the bass because it's portable and learning to read music for it will also help me when I sing, since I usually sing bass.  Also, since I know the basics of standard guitar playing, I reasoned that most of those skills would transfer to the bass, meaning I wouldn't be starting from scratch.

I looked up bass guitars on Craigslist and this one looked like a good fit.  (One weird thing about basses is that they're available in varieties with more or fewer strings.  Four strings is the most common, followed by five strings, but they're also available with as many as nine strings, though those are pretty rare.  I wanted one with four strings because it most closely resembles the double-bass from the Big Band days).  I emailed the owner about it, but then I found a no-name brand bass on Wal-Mart's website for about half the price.  Since it would be my first bass, having a super cheap one wouldn't be too bad.  I considered emailing the guy from Craigslist to tell him I changed my mind, but I decided to pray about it.  The Spirit told me to go with the one from Craigslist.

I was surprised that the Spirit directed me to buy that one; the answer I received wasn't "keep your word," it was "you should get the one you already emailed about."  It was at that point that I realized that the idea I had to learn how to play a new instrument had not originated from me.  I do need to be more proactive about keeping myself in good spirits and learning to play bass can be one way to do that.

After meeting the seller in a mutually convenient parking lot, I inspected the instrument.  It had a few scrapes on the back of the neck -- I'm guessing it was leaned up against a table or desk and got bumped a few times -- but otherwise it was in good condition.  The man said it was his son's, but he hardly played it, so it was time for it to go.  I paid him for it and drove home, so excited I was giddy.

Remember when I said that the few skills I had on guitar would transfer to the bass?  Turns out, they don't.  The strings are much thicker and are a lot harder to hold down, you hold the neck differently in order to reach all the strings, and you pluck the strings with your first two fingers instead of picking or strumming them.  It's been tough, but I'm earning my callouses and I can already kind of play a blues scale.  I've got a long way to go, but I'm making progress.

It feels a little weird to start learning a new instrument when I'm in my thirties, but I know this is something that will help me and be fun at the same time.

Tuesdays with Media: the Music of David Bowie

I found out yesterday afternoon that music legend David Bowie died on Sunday at the age of 69, after a battle with cancer.  I am ill-equipped to discuss Mr. Bowie, whose real name is David Jones, as a person (as I did not know him) or his music (as I only know his most popular songs), but I am saddened by his passing.

I discovered Bowie's music sometime after my mission, my first exposure being to the soulful "Space Oddity":

If you look close, you can see that Bowie has one blue eye and one green eye.

I was struck by the strange, sad ending and the fact that he was basically singing a duet with himself.  The song was originally written as a rebuttal to Elton John's "Rocket Man."  I always felt that Bowie won that particular argument.

One song that I discovered inadvertently was "The Man Who Sold the World":

I first heard the song as a cover by the band Nirvana.  It was a popular recording from their Unplugged special on MTV and the band's frontman, Kurt Cobain, even credits the song as being "a David Bowie song," but that part is often cut out when it's played on the radio (it's even cut from the video to which I linked).  By chance, I caught the final line one day and decided to seek out the original.  While I appreciate what Nirvana was able to do with the song, my favorite has been Bowie's version ever since I first heard it.

 As time went on, I continued to stumble across or seek it out Bowie's work.  Whether it was the upbeat "Changes," the funkadelic "Fame," the classic rock-inspired "Suffragette City," or the moody dance song "Let's Dance," I never came across a song that was bad (neither "Young Americans" or "I'm Afraid of Americans" are my favorites, but I also can't deny the talent behind them).

My favorite Bowie song, after "Space Oddity," is probably the contagiously happy-sounding "Golden Years":

The lyrics act as a bit of a juxtaposition to the happy melody -- to me, the song is about one person giving their all for the happiness of another, with no indication that either is actually happy.  That may not be the intended meaning, but that's what I got out of it.

David Bowie released a farewell album, Blackstar, the week before his passing, with multiple songs about his impending death.  I've listened to it twice and I'm starting to enjoy it more, but it's bizarre.  It's a weird fusion of electronica and jazz, with rock and folk elements thrown in as well.  I liked it better on my second pass, so maybe it's the kind of thing that needs to grow on you.

As I said at the outset, I'm ill-qualified to review David Bowie's music, but it felt appropriate for me to share some of my personal thoughts and feelings about the music from a talented man who died too young and will be well-remembered.

Tuesdays with Media: the Happy Birthday song

The song we all sing on someone's birthday has been in a strange position, legally speaking, for quite some time.  Despite the melody having been around since at least the late nineteenth century, the combination of the words and music together was considered unique enough that the song was copyrighted in 1935.  That meant that the song could not be sung in any commercial settings without obtaining permission (and paying licensing fees) to the copyright holder.

For a long time, no one took the copyright that seriously, but then in 1988, Warner/Chappell Music bought the copyright.  Since Warner/Chappell Music is a division of Warner Bros., even the threat of being sued was enough for everyone to stop using the song.  If you notice, from that time until the present, movies and TV shows rarely show anyone singing the happy birthday song -- sometimes using a new song, sometimes editing around when the characters would be singing -- and when I was a waiter, we had to use a different song when customers requested we celebrate with them.  Even the Children's Songbook by the Church has a different, non-copyrighted birthday song in it.  Such an odd circumstance for the most recognizable song in the English language, according to the Guinness Book of World Records.

Back in 2013, a couple of lawsuits were filed against Warner/Chappell Music, contesting that the company did not, in fact, own the exclusive rights to the song, though the lawsuits were eventually combined into one.  The basis of the lawsuit was that since the melody, which originally appeared in the song "Good Morning to All," was in the public domain, then no one could own the song "Happy Birthday to You" because the lyrics of both songs are nearly exactly the same.  Apparently the judge agreed, because on September 22, 2015, just two weeks ago, the song "Happy Birthday to You" was declared to be in the public domain.

Sort of.  The judge ruled that Warner/Chappell Music failed to adequately prove to own the copyright to the song, so the company no longer owns the song.  Since this is a bureaucratic process, it's moving slowly.  I'm going to guess that the song will be public domain in a couple of years, but until then, it's in a sort of legal limbo.  However, feel free to record yourself singing the song and publish your recording wherever you like: since no one owns the song, no one has the power to order you to cease and desist.

Tuesdays with Media: Them Shoes

Have you ever heard a song that you like the first time you hear it, but some time later when you hear it again, it really speaks to you?  Such is the case with the song off the album Every Hour is a Dollar Gone by Patrick Sweany, "Them Shoes":

The music is guitar-driven and strongly on the blues side of rock, the tempo constantly goes from fast to slow and back again, and the vocals have more than a little pain being sung out with the lyrics.

Speaking of lyrics, they're highly metaphorical and their real meaning may not be clear the first time or two.  Such was the case with me, which is why I didn't "get" the song the few first times I heard it.  Here's one of the verses:

No one said it would be easy
Sometimes it is hard to do
It isn't like the TV
You see the cold hard truth
And the things you see in movies
Just don't come true
So here's a little feedback
You gotta wear your shoes

Sweany talks about how life is hard and you don't get a happy ending like in movies or on TV, but then he gives "a little feedback" and says to wear shoes?  Like I said, it's a metaphor.  What he's saying is that you have take life as it comes, whether good or bad, and accept it.  "Wear your shoes" means not hide from who you are or what you've become and to live your life.

But as creative as the music is and as touching as the lyrics are, this is a song where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.  Even with what I just detailed above, there's something else about the song that speaks to me and connects with my soul.  I rediscovered this song last week and have listened to it several times since, partly because it's catchy, but mostly because I'm moved by it.

Every Hour is a Dollar Gone is distributed by Nine Mile Records.

Tuesdays with Media: Song Names

I've mentioned before that I often use Pandora to discover new instrumental musicians to listen to while I'm at work.  For the most part, I just focus on whatever project I'm working on, but if a song is really good, I'll take a moment to write down the song name and artist so I can find it again later.  At my current job (which I've worked at now for seven months), I have two large Post-It notes stuck to my cubicle wall, filled with song names.

What's interesting about this is that some songs have names that change how you interpreted the song from when you first heard it.  Take Antoine Dufour's song "Mother," it doesn't sound particularly motherly to me, at least at first -- thinking more about it, there's a lot of care taken with every string plucked, every chord strummed, just as mothers take care with their children.  Or take Andy McKee's song "Samus' Stardrive," which I just thought was a thoughtful, moving song, perhaps about a lost love, but the name makes it clear that it's about a video game.  And Stephen Bennett's song "In Memory of Joe LoMastro," just sounds exciting, like you can't wait to take on the world, but it's about a man's passing.

Now, just because these song titles don't match what I imagine, doesn't make my interpretation wrong, just different from what the artist intended.  Having my own stories interpreted differently than what I intended, I know that that's fine (at least it is for me).  But what about when a piece's title is distracting?  I recently discovered Kaki King, who has a fun, often pounding, percussive style to her playing, though she can also make songs that sound ethereal.  I remember when I heard one of her songs, played on a lap guitar, that had a strong electronica-feel to it.  I decided I liked it enough to want to write the title down and was surprised by what I found: "Gay Sons of Lesbian Mothers."  What on earth does that have to do with the song I just heard?  There are no words, so it's not like she can force that interpretation on me ... unless I see the title, I guess?

My point to all of this is that what a song is named can be a glimpse of what the artist was trying to convey with their music, but it doesn't have to be what we get out of it.  Song lyrics will get in your head even if you ignore them, but the same is not true for instrumental song titles.  Good thing too, because I've never seen the German TV show for which Don Ross' "Klimbim" is named so if I had have his interpretation, I'd be lost.

Tuesdays with Media: Many Shades of Black

Have you ever listened to a song that you haven't heard in a while and now it has a new meaning for you because of the way you life has changed since the last time you heard it?  I had that very experience recently with the song "Many Shades of Black" by The Raconteurs:

This is an odd one.  The music is lighthearted with a nice beat, but the lyrics are about a painful break-up.  The chorus in particular calls out to me:

Everybody sees / And everyone agrees

That you and I are wrong / And it's been that way too long

Take it as it comes / and be thankful when it's done

There's so many ways to act / and there's many shades of black

Break-ups aren't usually easy, but in retrospect, ours has been coming for a long, long time.  In an odd way, I'm happy that I now have that personal insight thanks to Jack White and Brendan Benson, the song's writers.

Tuesdays with Media: Lewis & Clark

When I first started my career as a technical writer with my internship while I was still in college, I started a habit that I still employ today: listening to instrumental music while in the office to block out distractions.  The music blocks out other noises around me (like conversations) and the lack of words means the language center of my brain won't be busy while I'm trying to write.  A convenient way to do this is to go to Pandora and type in a musician that I like.  A nice bonus of doing this is that I discover new artists that I can appreciate.  That's how I came to know the music of Tommy Emmanuel.

Tommy Emmanuel is an Australian virtuoso guitarist that proves that the guitar can be the most versatile instrument on the planet in right hands.  He first became a professional musician at age six (he's nearly sixty today), so I think it's safe to say that he's well-practiced.  I often link to other songs that I also like so that you can discover more of an artist's catalog, but I honestly haven't come across anything from Mr. Emmanuel not worth listening to, so instead I'll link to his YouTube channel and invite you to explore what he has to offer.

Today's song is Lewis & Clark, who you'll probably recognize as the American explorers tasked by President Thomas Jefferson to explore the western United States and make it to the Pacific Ocean.  So, why did an Aussie write a song about American historical figures?  I can't say.  What I can say is that the song is beautiful and the name fits the music.  The first minute is spent on the introduction, but every journey requires preparation.  Once the song proper starts, the tempo picks up and there's a real sense of excitement and adventure, but there's also some uncertainty and trepidation in there because when you're starting a new adventure, that often means heading into the unknown.  This song fits all of these emotions perfectly and still shows off Tommy's skills (watch closely and you can sometimes see him strum with his pinky while still picking with his other four fingers).

I hoped you enjoyed the return of Tuesdays with Media and all of the songs featured during this month dedicated to instrumental music.  Are there any themes or genres you'd like to see me tackle in the future?

Tuesdays with Media: Sahara 72

There are a lot of different subgenres of jazz.  Some these are ignored and end up fading into the background of history.  With today's example, that happened, but it only applies to the subgenre's title.

At the time that "Sahara 72" was released by the Bobby Hughes Experience on the album Fusa Riot, acid jazz was still a viable form of jazz.  It is generally considered to have been around since the '80s, but in the last decade or so, the name has become less favorable, with many artists opting to call their music jazz funk or jazz rap, or even neo soul.  It's the same kind of music, with elements of funk, hip-hop, and electronica, just with a new name.

Now, I hope that you listened to the song posted today because I'm about to share something that should surprise you, but only if you heard the song: this song is by a Norwegian band.  "Bobby Hughes" is a pseudonym of Espen Horne, who likely thought that he'd be more popular in America if he had a more familiar sounding name.  His style has a nice funk sound to it, but it's also a nice fusion of other genres with some soul-grooves, some Latin beats, some super smooth stylings, and some stuff that I don't even know how to categorize except that it's awesome.

I should point out that to me, all of these songs sound unique and original, but I've been listening to jazz for years -- to the less experienced, it may all sound more similar than I think it is.  That's not a dig at the uninitiated, it's just that I've had more time to notice nuances that others might not.  It's like how my artist grandma can look at a painting and notice techniques and colors that were used that go completely unnoticed by me.

Still, if you want to add some variety to your playlist with some funky Nordic fusion-jazz, I honestly can think of no other options.  But with a band like the Bobby Hughes Experience, what other options could you need?

Tuesdays with Media: Piece of Mind

Remember how I last week's entry was about a song that I said didn't fit the time period it was from.  The opposite is true about today's song.

I don't know about you, but my sideburns feel longer from just listening to that.  It just sounds so much like the seventies.  Seriously, close your eyes and imagine that part of it is used for the opening sequence of some TV show.  This show would have everyone in polyester, at least one person in a jumpsuit, and no fewer than three mustachioed men.  That said, I love this song.

"Piece of Mind" is a song that brings to mind feelings of both peace and excitement.  Perhaps the "piece of mind" that's being shared is good news.  I feel like this is the kind of song that should be playing in the background when I call to tell people that I'm going to be a father -- it's full of hope,  joy, and barely contained enthusiasm.

The song is by jazz legend Idris Muhammad.  When I first heard this song, I was surprised to learn that Mr. Muhammad was a drummer since this song does have times where it focuses on the horns, the sax, and the organ, but there's not a single drum solo.  Maybe he wanted to give his collaborators a chance to shine.

While I can't always see the appeal of a type of music, I really dig the whole album this came from, titled, appropriately enough, Power of Soul.  If you enjoyed this song, I recommend listening to the rest.

Tuesdays with Media: Miserlou

Sometimes a song is released and it defies genres so hard that no one knows what to do with it.  That's how I feel people must have reacted to first hearing "Miserlou" by Dick Dale.

"Miserlou" was originally released in 1958 but it sure as heck sounds more recent than that.  The guitar is fast-driving, the only vocals are just enthusiastic shouts, and it has a sort of Persian sound to it -- none of those are things that really fit the vibe of Rock and Roll when it was still in its infancy.

I was introduced to this song in 1994 when it appeared in ads for Pulp Fiction and I assumed it was a modern song -- it certainly feels more like a Grunge song than early Rock, at least in my mind.  Maybe it just feels more timeless since it was heavily influenced by a traditional Middle Eastern folk tune, just with fast guitars.

If we're being technical (hint: we are), "Miserlou" falls into the sub-genre of surf rock, which may be a decent fit, but it's still weird seeing kids from that era dance the twist to this song.

Whoever directed this performance was a legitimately bad cinematographer.

"Miserlou" may not fit in well with other songs of it's kind, but it's still a great song that's a lot of fun.

Tuesdays with Media: Powerhouse

I want to get back into my weekly review column by dedicating the month of March to instrumental music.  This week's song is one that everyone knows, even if they don't know the name of it.

"Powerhouse" is the name of a popular dance song from the late 1930s by the Raymond Scott Quintette.  There's a really frantic feeling to the music, but in a way that's still light-hearted and fun.  Plus, the bridge in the middle is almost like a completely different song, making it feel even more unique.  You can tell way people liked dancing to it.

Not long after the song's release, the record company that owned the song was bought by Warner Bros.  Now that they had the song in their catalog, they could use in their animated shorts for free.  And use it they did.

By my count, that's 12-15 different cartoons that use the same song, and that's just in that one video.  Which is certainly the reason why I always thought of the song as the "Acme Factory Theme."  That's what's really fascinating to me about this song: it's still known to the world today due to the appropriation of it by a different industry -- animation.  And while it's likely that some fans of early jazz would know it, it's almost certain that it wouldn't be so well known had that appropriation not occurred.  I can't speak for Mr. Scott, but I think that's the best thing an artist can hope for: for his work to be known by as many people as possible.