The Streets of Laredo

My father’s birthday was this past week, and I thought a lot about how he had fostered and cultivated in me a love for music. It began when I was quite young, some of my earliest memories include sitting on the floor in the living room, and listening to records with these puffy, yellow headphones on. Being a librarian, my father loves a good story, and that extends to music as well. He played me “Up on Cripple Creek” and “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down” from The Band’s The Brown Album and “Guns of Brixton” and “Spanish Bombs” from The Clash’s London Calling. I love both those albums dearly, a poster of London Calling has adorned almost every room I have lived in since my sophomore year at Bates. Vividly, I recall how my father explained that the pinkish and green coloring of the cover's layout was chosen by The Clash in homage to Elvis Presley’s debut record.

Like many young children, I was often sung to sleep. One of my particular favorites was the country classic “The Streets of Laredo,” which was sung to me almost exclusively by my father. A sad, lonesome ballad about a dying, young cowboy, who relates his story of fast-living, gambling, and womanizing to a passer-by. Plodding along with a tempo very much like the death march that the song mentions, the rendition by an aging Johnny Cash is truly gripping (though that is not to snub the Willie Nelson version, which I quite enjoy too). The cowboy’s words drip with repent and a longing for comfort after his spirit has fled the earth: “Then beat the drum slowly, play the fife lowly / Play the dead march as you carry me along / Take me to the green valley, lay the sod o’er me / I’m a young cowboy and I know I’ve done wrong.” The song fascinated me when I was younger, trying to visualize how the cowboy would have been wrapped in linen, not quite understanding what exactly linen was. No matter the circumstance, it is a song that gives me calm and I emerge from listening to it breathing easier, my head cleared.

Album Review: Sufjan Stevens' The Age of Adz

Sufjan Stevens’ newest album, The Age of Adz, is a remarkable departure from his previous ventures, and is quite possibly the most magnificent musical piece of work this year as seen. Burgeoning electronics and sweeping percussion dominate the album’s landscape. The result is a mood that quite often envelopes the listener in a controlled cacophony, as Stevens espouses a dark variety of emotions and torments that his earlier, callow albums lack. “Futile Devices” provides a telling prologue to the journey, its sounds is more reminiscent of the tracks on Seven Swans, soothing and delicate. Yet there is something more deeply personal, immediately regretful taking place here, as Stevens softly sings “It’s been a long, long time / Since I’ve memorized your face / It’s been four hours now / Since I wandered through your place.” Nostalgic in the highest sense of the word, and embeded with pains of loss and words not spoken, the track closes with Stevens’ voice barely above a whisper, “Words are futile devices.”

Musically, the album builds and grows from that point, synthesizers and electronica supplant softly plucked guitars. Seemingly devoid of traditional arrangement at times, eyes close and ears force themselves to listen closely to the dissonance that paints a panorama of turmoil and uncertainty, but ultimately recognition of certainty and direction manifests. As he is wont to do, Stevens The Age of Adz is linked together under the umbrella of a unified concept. He draws a great deal of inspiration from the life of artist Royal Robertson, a paranoid schizophrenic, including the albums exquisite artwork. Paralleling Robertson’s struggles, the album is fraught with Stevens own brooding and emotional introspection. The orchestration and layered sounds that have become Stevens forte are present, albeit of a darker strain. On “Too Much,” he bemoans his own shortcomings, calling out: “If I had been a different man, if I had blood in my eyes / I could have read of your heart, I could have read of your mind,” as the trill of the arrangement climbs towards crescendo. “I Walked,” “Now That I’m Older,” and “Bad Communication” each further a focus on past relationships that have crumbled and Stevens’ own path toward maturity.

Taboo and uncomfortable are words that our society has placed on publicly discussing one’s grappling with personal spirituality. However, leaving no aspect of his conscience reticent, Stevens underlines his own struggles with embracing Christianity. He does not do so to propagate his beliefs loudly, nor to invoke sympathy, it serves only to further unveil and unravel the depths of his psyche. “Get Real Get Right” offers up Christianity as Stevens own path toward living well, “I know I’ve caused you trouble / I know I’ve caused you pain / But I must do the right thing / I must do myself a favor and get real / Get right with the Lord.” This inward contention to find peace is illustrated again on “Vesuvius,” as bubbling electronics swell about, Stevens and a chorus of voices call out: “Vesuvius / Fire of fire / Follow me now / As I favor the ghost.”

The separation between The Age of Adz and Stevens’ past albums is no more apparent that on the penultimate track “I Want to Be Well.” An admission of weighty personal struggles, and the inability to push himself away from the relationships that have scarred his past, Stevens echoes the sentiment that all he yearns for is peace, repeating over and again “I want to be well.” He comes to the precipice of losing all control of his emotions, crying out incessantly with determination: “I’m not fucking around / I’m not, I’m not, I’m not fucking around.” It is perhaps the greatest departure from past works where the better part of each step was well-calculated and heavily choreographed. The Age of Adz finds Sufjan Stevens struggling with his conscious, a depth of contemplative emotions, the good and the malicious, that inhabit every crevasse of his being, judging a life of relationships, and finding the strength to mature and inch himself forward. It is a place he has found himself confronted with before, “On the floor at the great divide / With my shirt tucked in and my shoes untied / I am crying in the bathroom,” but only at thirty-five do all the pieces begin to fit.

Fantastic Daytrotter Session!

Daytrotter, time and again, comes through with some amazing live sessions (and some great artwork), and today is no different. After spending the last few years as the drummer with the Philadelphia outfit Dr. Dog, Juston Stens decided to set out on his own. An amazing talent, Stens new project Juston Stens and the Get Real Gang have released a self-titled, five track debut, which brilliantly showcases Stens variety of musical talents. Do not miss this Daytrotter session, of particular note the track "Lonely Lonely Night." Enjoy.

http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/juston-stens-and-the-get-real-gang-concert/20031362-51536.html

My Favorite Music Videos of the Moment

Yes, it’s been awhile since the last post. Apologies to the masses that wake every morning with a burning urge to check this blog for some new musical nugget.

Among the music I have occupied myself with in recent weeks is this song by The Duke & the King from there sophomore album Long Live The Duke & The King. I find it irresistibly catchy, the type of song that leads to knee-slapping, and eventually full-fledged "I am dancing in my bedroom" mode. The vocal harmonies throughout, the layered, syncopated, uptempo percussion, the guitar riff with a tinge of reverb, and the way the saxophone bursts in pulling with further warmth and energy, all of these components drawn together establish "Shaky" as a fantastic lead track to The Duke & the King's newest album.

While on the subject of the wonders of percussion, if Maps & Atlases "The Charm" hasn't made its way into your ears as of yet, check out this video. It is amazing.