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January 24, 2008
* "starin' thru the windshield, seein' the other side...."
I think I just figured out a way to sum up how I feel about the use of songs in TV commercials, which is a subject I've touched upon a few times in this space. This little epiphany came to me when dropping a line to my longtime friend Pete Droge after hearing his recent song "Going Whichever Way The Wind Blows" in an automobile ad a couple times this week.
It's a nice fit: The ad shows folks camping out at night in the desert, Droge's song sounding a bit like the soundtrack to the starry sky floating above them. I sent Pete a quick note saying I'd seen it, then thought maybe I should've also mentioned half-jokingly that I couldn't even remember what car it was for, but that it didn't really matter because I just consider the spot to be an ad for the song, rather than the other way around.
And that's it, in a nutshell. If, as an artist, you can justify the footage accompanying your ad as making a reasonable connection with the song's spirit, then it works for everyone involved.
Thus my positive reaction to Droge's song in the car ad. And to Hem's songs in recent Liberty Mutual commercials, which feature sequential shots of people lending a helping hand to each other on the street, one act of kindness following another. And it's why the car ad that used Nick Drake's "Pink Moon" a few years ago remains the best marriage of song and commercial ever -- because that spot captured Drake's vibe so well, it practically could have been an actual video for the song.
By contrast, it's why John Mellencamp's "This Is Our Country" for trucks is a failure -- because nothing about the song connects with behemoth pickups tramping around the landscape. And it's why the Weepies' "Stars" fails as a spot for a cable movie channel, because the song has absolutely nothing to do with movie stars.
Ultimately, it matters very little what the product is; any company that can afford to produce major TV commercials is almost certain to be a gigantic entity that has both positive and negative aspects to its corporate philosophy. Forget the product, though, and flip it around -- if the visual element works as an ad for the song, then it's not just good pocketbook, it's also respectable art.
adios,
peter
** A quick update to this entry: I noticed I'd embedded videos on the three entries that followed this one, so it seems fitting to also post the video I refer to above. Here it is, if you're interested:
Posted by Peter at 8:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)
January 22, 2008
* "raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice...."
My co-editor's snarky comment in today's accompanying news item aside, it's true that I've done my share of blathering-on (in this space and elsewhere) over the past few months about Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova's song "Falling Slowly" and the Irish indie film Once. Today's announcement from the Oscars offered a nice confirmation that I was far from the only one blathering.
The big surprise was not that "Falling Slowly" was nominated -- though it got snubbed by the Golden Globes, its Oscar prospects had looked pretty strong -- but that Eddie Vedder's work on Into The Wild went unnoticed by the Academy. Which is a shame, because it ranks with the best music Vedder has created, including his Pearl Jam highlights. There's really no excuse for skipping Vedder while nominating THREE Alan Menken/Steven Schwartz tracks from Enchanted. (The other honoree, "Raise It Up" From August Rush, appears to be such a longshot that the official Academy announcement listed its composers as "Nominees to be determined".)
As a result of Vedder's exclusion, "Falling Slowly" appears to actually be the frontrunner, and that's as it should be. The song appears twice in Once -- initially when co-stars Hansard and Irglova are first getting to know each other through their music, and then in the film's final scene. While the former is vital to the storyline, it's the latter moment that is transcendent; I don't believe I've ever seen another song bring such breathtaking beauty to its cinematic setting.
What's next for Hansard and Irglova depends largely on exactly what happens with the Writers Guild of America strike. It's an unfortunate offshoot of the labor dispute that these two indie musicians could potentially lose out on the biggest coup of their careers if the strike ends up affecting the Oscars. A live performance in front of millions of TV viewers, possibly followed by receiving the award, could easily translate into hundreds of thousands of sales in the wake of the show. But if what happened to the Golden Globes happens to the Oscars, that opportunity vanishes. Here's hoping for quick resolution, for the benefit of all parties involved -- and even for those who aren't involved, such as Hansard and Irglova.
adios,
peter
Update: If you haven't heard the song, here it is, set to video clips from the movie:
Posted by Peter at 7:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)
January 15, 2008
* "is it worth the admission...."
The above lyric is the first line of the first song on the first album by a band called Zeitgeist. The album was called Translate Slowly and it came out in 1985, followed by three records after they changed their name to the Reivers. The band split up in October 1991 and hasn't played a gig since.
That will change on February 9-10, when the Reivers make a Saturday-Sunday stand at the Parish in their hometown of Austin, Texas. The recent Led Zeppelin reunion in London may have been a bigger deal to the mass of the civilized world, but not to me. And not, apparently, to a few hundred other folks, given that the February 9 show sold out within one day, resulting in a second show being booked for the following night. As if anyone even asked "is it worth the admission" -- a bargain at $15 -- for quite a few folks (myself included) it was also worth a plane ticket of a few hundred bucks.
If you're wondering, on account of my writing about them here, whether the Reivers were some sort of pioneering alt-country band, no, they weren't. Well, not really, anyway, although Translate Slowly did contain a terrifically inventive cover of "Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain", and closed with the western-twanged instrumental "Hill Country Theme".
What they were, at heart, was a classic pop band -- considered "alternative-rock" at the time, but really much more basic and broad in their appeal, I always thought. They balanced memorable melodies and unstoppable energy with seemingly effortless ease, contrasting the rough and sweet vocals of frontfolks John Croslin and Kim Longacre (respectively) amid an infectious swirl of chiming guitars and the unbelievably lively rhythms of drummer Garrett Williams and bassist Cindy Toth. (I'm sure it'll seem like hyperbole, but I still think Williams may be the best drummer I ever heard.)
They were at the forefront of a swarm of Austin bands that were caustically dubbed "The New Sincerity" by musician/author Jesse Sublett, and while that comment was perhaps understandable given Sublett's perspective as a veteran of the city's previous punk/new-wave onslaught, it also rang with a bit of resonance. While the bands themselves (Zeitgeist, Wild Seeds, True Believers, Glass Eye, Doctors' Mob, etc.) would never have declared themselves to be "newly sincere," they emerged in an era when the likes of Michael Jackson and Quiet Riot were topping the charts. By comparison, they were a real breath of fresh air, particularly for anyone who was just beginning to dig beneath the surface, as I was back then.
A few nights ago I stumbled upon a reasonably entertaining documentary about the rise of heavy metal on VH1 Classic. The first hour dealt with the more purist forerunners and creators of the form, with the second hour detailing how it all devolved into the mid-'80s caricatural carcass of Motley Crue, Twisted Sister and Warrant. In that context, what we were hearing on the stages of Liberty Lunch and the Continental Club and the Beach and the Hole in the Wall actually was pretty sincere: These were bands who were playing music for all the right reasons. And pretty damned good music at that.
adios,
peter
Update: Here's a clip from the band, back in the day (summer 1985):
Posted by Peter at 7:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)
January 8, 2008
* ND #74 REVISITED
Happy New Year to all....and now a look back (already?) at our first issue of this new year, which you've hopefully received in your mailbox or found on the newsstand by now:
* Reading Heidi Hyatt's words about dealing with the loss a decade ago of her husband Walter, in David Menconi's news-item about the new release (out January 22) of previously unreleased material from the late songwriter, was pretty hard stuff. This compilation does seem to have been a long time coming, but it's easy to sympathize with Heidi and understand when she told Menconi that "it took me years before I could even really talk about Walter." The disc, Some Unfinished Business Volume One, is a very welcome reminder about how talented Hyatt was, with the "Volume One" designation a promising hint that there'll be more to come. For now, just hearing Hyatt's original take on such gems as "Motor City Man" and "I'll Come Knockin'" is rewarding enough.
Of the latter, I was reminded that the late Champ Hood helped me figure out its rather unusual chord-progression when pianist Marty Jourard and I worked up a version of it for a hoot-night-type gig in Seattle back in 1998. Stumped by one particular change, I e-mailed Champ (who died of cancer in 2001) and asked. He kindly obliged, noting slyly that "Walter could be kinda tricky." He also shed a little light on the the history of the song (which was covered by Lyle Lovett on his Step Inside This House album): "That song goes way back to '71 or '72," Champ wrote. "Uncle Walt's Band demoed in Nashville around that time. I rediscovered it on about the only reel to reel tape that I own. We used to perform it, but it eventually 'slid' out of the repertoire as new stuff came in." Sure am glad he went back and found that one.
(A thanks also to David at King Tears Music for pointing out that "Going To New Orleans", which I'd mentioned in a blog-entry many months ago and had attributed to Champ, was actually written by Walter, "with Champ in mind.")
* As a die-hard fan of the Texas Longhorns, I took no small delight in the revelation, amid Joe Nick Patoski's "Most Valuable Player" interview with harmonica great Mickey Raphael, that Mickey basically began a decades-long affiliation with Willie Nelson as a result of being invited to a party in the early 1970s by then-UT football coach Darrell Royal (which Willie also attended). Hook 'em, Mickey...
* I suppose I should take my longtime mentor Don McLeese's word for it when he says, in his review of a John Mellencamp/Los Lobos double-bill in Iowa, that Mellencamp "reclaimed 'Our Country' from Chevy" during the performance, but frankly I just don't think it's possible. While I've opened my mind a great deal in recent years to the idea of artists licensing their songs for commercial use, "Our Country" has been so overexposed that there's just no way I can ever consider the song in any other context anymore than as a sales-pitch for trucks. The real shame of that is that I do think Mellencamp had intentions of being more political with the album that song was on; but at some point, you just can't have it both ways. If you're going to step out and say something of substance, that's precisely the time NOT to license any of the content to anyone else, much less a manufacturer of gas-guzzling pickups. Sorry, Don, I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree on that one....
* Bettye LaVette winning our critics' poll would probably have to be viewed as something of an upset, though a very pleasing one at that. Partly I just would've guessed that if an older black female artist were going to end up at #1, it would've been Mavis Staples (who came in at #4). Regardless, having both of them in the top-5 was a nice comment on the broad-ranging nature of Americana music, as viewed through the eyes of our writers.
Of my own ballot, the highest-ranking record I had that didn't place among our Top 50 was Mandy Moore's Wild Hope. No surprise there, really, as the former teenypopper didn't stand to connect much with our literati (despite the feature Allison Stewart wrote for us back in May-June). I'll stand by my opinion of it as one of the best records of the year, though. (Then again, someone just called me a couple hours ago to interview me for my thoughts about Barry Manilow, so take it all for whatever it's worth.)
In any event, if you're interested in exactly which records each voter in our critics' poll selected, check back here on Friday, and we'll have a link on the home page to a list of all the individual ballots.
* Finally, don't let this issue get past you without reading Peter Cooper's feature on Malcolm Holcombe. It ranks up there with the best pieces we've ever published in our pages.
adios,
peter
Posted by Peter at 2:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)
January 1, 2008
* "the clock on the stage says eleven-fifty-nine...."
New Year's Eve was spent a couple hours down the road in Charlotte at the majestic Belk Theater, where the Avett Brothers moved-on-up from their previous Eve soirees at the Neighborhood Theater. The latter holds a little under 1,000 and the Avetts had just outgrown it; the former holds just over 2,000 and it was still an easy sellout for the favorite sons of Concord (a Charlotte suburb).
The Belk is more naturally suited to opera and theatrical productions and the like, but proved a rather entertaining place to see the Avetts and their legions of hard-core sing-along fans -- a little bit like letting the inmates take over the asylum for an evening. The Brothers mentioned from the stage in their first set that they'd be taking a bit of a break from the road with the arrival of 2008; we learned during the intermission that they're tentatively planning to head back into the studio in February to record a batch of recently written material.
Watching such a big-time bash recalled the last time I'd seen a New Year's Eve show of such significance -- up the road a couple hours in Carrboro, when the venerable Cat's Cradle nightclub closed out the millennium with what ended up being the last formal Whiskeytown show ever. Doing some year-end cleaning a couple days ago, I happened upon a souvenir laminate from that fateful night, which brought back some vivid memories.
It seems odd, looking back at it now, that last night's audience for the Avetts was probably about quadruple the size of the Cradle crowd on December 31, 1999. You'd think the last Whiskeytown show ever would've been a huge deal -- it was enough so for me that I flew all the way across the country for it -- but of course no one really knew at the time that it was to be the band's swan song.
Regardless, it was a very special night, with the band playing first Faithless Street and then Strangers Almanac in their entirety -- the kind of career-summation that was really a pretty good way to go out, all things considered. Still, though, I wouldn't mind seeing a reunion gig sometime down the line.
Speaking of which, it looks like February 9 is the date for another big-time reunion, at least from my own personal perspective -- that's the tentative date for the first show by Austin band Zeitgeist (later known as the Reivers) since October 1991. Most folks for whom music is a central focus probably have a band that, at some point or another, changed their life; Zeitgeist was that band for me. Suffice to say that if you're in Austin for the show next month, I'll see you there.
adios,
peter
Posted by Peter at 8:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)