Crazy, by Patsy Cline.
This song ended up in front of me tonight because I started trying some Gram Parsons songs, realized I didn’t know any of them, and looked for some easier Willie Nelson stuff, tried his take on Crazy, and then said screw it, just do it Patsy’s way, since that’s the version I know best.
And then I completely failed at it, but there are lessons here, like, some things sound better in rehearsal, or in your head, or in the car.
Black Magic Woman, by Santana.
I was reading the oral history of Smooth today, and legitimately don’t know how the verses go, plus, ugh, but that story was so irredeemably silly, I was inspired to try a Santana song.
Somehow, I feel like I played this song better when I was 15.
All I Want Is You, by U2.
This song is the closer on Rattle And Hum, an album (and a tour/making of documentary film that I owned on VHS!!) that I think some people don’t like? I love that stupid album and the movie, and you can’t convince me otherwise. I may or may not have starred in a full-on music video of Desire that played at my Bar Mitzvah. In a leather jacket. Combing my hair. Dancing in front of a brick wall. Let’s never convert that to DVD, Mom.
Had to add the little guitar fills and solo or The Edge will come find me. As a teen I always played this with A and D chords, but I found it tonight with a capo in G#/C#, so, ok, let’s do that.
Crown of Love, by Arcade Fire.
This song is one that stuck in my head for years. I remember hearing it live the first time we went to see Arcade Fire in person, at the arena in DC, after putting on our facepaint/glitter at the hotel, being told by guys in t-shirts that my seersucker looked uncomfortably warm… was that the show Antibalas and Dan Deacon opened? I think it was. Anyway…
“the only thing you keep changing
is your name.
my love keeps growing,
still the same,
like a cancer,
and you won’t give me a straight answer.”
…kills me.
This song deserves all the usual orchestration and whatnot, but it was time to sing this for the dog, who has been a pain in the butt for a couple days.
Five to One, by The Doors.
Some of y’all know this song, and some of y’all know this sample. I’ve been listening to The Doors episode of the Bandsplain podcast, and the little clip they played of this and, well, all the other Jim Morrison bits and pieces reminded me pretty explicitly of what is best tagged as “my Jim Morrison period” so I figured this number would be a somewhat less dramatic way to channel it a little. As opposed to, say, The End. But I still kinda feel like doing Moonlight Drive.
The version from the double live CD compilation from the ’90s is the one that plays in my head, so I sing parts of the end in that cadence, even though I didn’t drop everything out or banter with the crowd or anything.
I really should’ve given the guitar solo another take or two, but the new dog wasn’t enjoying the high notes, and apparently is of course not a fan of my scream-singing, as evidenced by me looking around at him and trying to figure out if he was about to drop bombs on the office rug while I did the vocal video.
[UPDATE: I messed up the day count, maybe for the first time? Fixed it now.]
Peggy-O, by the Grateful Dead.
We’ve established I’m a sucker for a story song, and I’m not above calling this song somewhat cover-of-a-cover-adjacent, since the origin story is some flavor of Scottish folk song, if you believe Grateful Dead forums and Wikipedia. Maybe I should just be tagging some of these as “traditional” and leave it at that.
Sophomore year of college, when there was a lot of Dead flowing, the Deadest-head in the dorm room who brought it all to light for us got a giant book of Dead lyrics for the holidays or a birthday, I think, (with some pre-wiki explanation and context, IIRC), and I remember spending some fond hours with it.
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Regarding the crack about the hat at the top of the recording: I wasn’t the one who went into the attic of the hotel suite in Eastern New Mexico to see what was there, and I definitely wasn’t the one who removed the hats, but I was the one who staked a claim on the black one, and that has made all the difference. Also, I nearly drove myself delirious from dehydration when I wore it on a 100 degree desert working outdoors in double-knee Carhartts, as one did in the middle of the year 2001.
Changes in Latitude, Changes in Attitude, by Jimmy Buffett.
Inspired by a day in the sun at a soccer tournament and the Cucumber Lime Gatorade I serendipitously plucked out of a gas station fridge on the way home. And my wife who recommended Jimmy Buffett to go with these refreshing flavors, and who then patiently listened to my explanation of the Times Square Margaritaville story in Eater this week and its place in the genre.
This song, and its completely original intro not at all basically the same as Margaritaville's intro, honest approach is delightfully derivative, and yet somehow leads off the album that song is on. To play off of Jaya Saxena’s analysis of that song in the Eater story, Changes in Latitude, etc., starts off with a serious attempt at reflection that is unapologetically derailed by getting drunk with a friend, and a repeated chorus of “if we couldn’t laugh we would all go insane” that translates neatly as “ignorance is bliss, and if you say otherwise, you’re crazy,” which is rather rude in the year 2021, aside from being generally small-minded, and also a reminder that this particular attitude in THE SEVENTIES led to THE EIGHTIES somewhat directly.
Also, yes, I am sunburnt in September. The Weather.
And I kinda wanna sing Come Sunday next time the Buffett urge strikes.
Daniel and the Sacred Harp, by The Band.
I hadn’t thought about this song in at least a decade, maybe two, but the great thing about looking at long lists of songs by your favorite bands is finding gems like this. A story song, biblical references, moral lessons, your basic monkey’s paw / cursed musical instrument situation.
And btw, I no longer have any idea what the canonical version of this song is, since there have been multiple rounds of remasters of this album.
Did my best to slightly vary my voice between Levon and Richard, but I don’t have the stamina tonight to, well, play a harp solo, or to do anything that sounds like an accordion or whatever else the heck is in play on this number.
Phoenix, by Big Red Machine.
Not as brand new as that Sturgill Simpson song a few days back, but only a few weeks “old,” if that’s a thing. What if Robin Pecknold but not Fleet Foxes and Justin Vernon but not Bon Iver and Anais Mitchell and other people, too, but not one of several tracks featuring Taylor Swift?
This song is one, they’re all good, listen to the whole album. Is it about the dog? Maybe. Is it about the US Men’s National Team (Soccer)? Maybe. Is it about [waves hands wildly at the rapidly deteriorating society] other stuff? Yes.
Black Water, by the Doobie Brothers.
Sometimes I just can’t resist the voice(s) in my head dredging up long forgotten Love 94 materials from the deep recesses of my brain pretty mama and they take me by the hand hand and I am moved to dance with your daddy all night long and so it goes.
This song is barely a thing, and yet it was a huge hit, and seemed appropriate for a rainy week with a hurricane battering the Mississippi Delta.