American Crisis Playlist #15
Get behind me, Florida
I might have this wrong, but Florida governor DeSantis is ready to open bars in his state again, and nothing says “I’m ready for the pandemic” like sitting in a crowded barroom while the music is playing songs from Ted Nugent and that strange band of American sisters with Nazi leanings, Prussian Blue.
Sorry for the stereotyping, but Florida, really?
Well, the Seminoles are playing football today, and I guess the Canes are, too. The Gators are coming in two weeks, and as much as I love the idea of watching college football again, I don’t need to go to no stinkin’ bar to do it.
Sorry, had to throw in an allusion to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly there. Because that’s the way it feels all the time as I try and fail not to read too much of the news and, at times, forget that I’m not in Florida, and we’re safe and wearing our masks and getting take-out food from the Thai place up the street.
So get behind me, Florida, and play some tunes worth the price of admission, or the price of a more distanced entry, or your own private house party.
And if nothing else, fall is almost here; the temps are moderating slightly, and live music is streaming somewhere near. Now, listen while I play…
AMERICAN CRISIS PLAYLIST #15
- “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground,” White Stripes, from White Blood Cells (2001). I don’t know what to do with myself: I love images of dead leaves wherever they are, because they remind me of my childhood back yard where Dad never insisted I be so punctual about raking. So even in January, the leaves kept laying there, trodden under and definitely decaying. Ah, the Stripes fill me with joy, even at this great distance. Did they ever get the recognition they deserved? I first heard them in an old bar in Greenville— the glory days — and one of my writing students reminded me of them just last week. I have hope for our nation’s “youth.”
- “Never Been Wrong,” (for Gov. DeSantis) from Waxahatchee’s 2017 record, Out in the Storm, the first of two Wax songs I’m listing this week. If you were in a bar and this song came on, what would you do? Ask the barkeep to crank up the volume? Order another pint of lager (or a cider drink)? Keep on shooting pool or darts? Grab someone you love, or would like to, and dance in the center of the room, or in some corner alone, where no one else can see or get to you? I’ll hang up and listen now.
- “Can’t Do Much,” from Waxahatchee’s latest, Saint Cloud (2020). I love the way the opening guitar refrain reminds me of Junior Walker’s “Gotta Hold On to Your Love.” It feels like a summer holdout, but as she sings about her “uneasiness,” I feel it — the general malaise of something’s being wrong even in the dining room of my own house. Can’t do much about it now, she says, but that’s disingenuous of her since she’s killing me with her voice and words. Doing quite a lot, actually.
- “Ohm,” Yo La Tengo, from Fade (2013). What does it mean when you wake up thinking about a song like this: “Sometimes the bad guys come out on top, sometimes the good guys lose?” I’ve had enough of losing, thank you. I got back into steady yoga practice this week and felt so much better. I have lost too much time “resisting the flow.” Remember when we saw them at The Orange Peel in Asheville, and they played this song acoustically right at the beginning? We were lost for a while then, because “nothing ever stays the same…and this is all we know.” God, I love them.
- “Shelter,” The xx, back in 2009 on their debut LP, xx. I remember sitting in a coffee shop in Iowa City, writing in my journal while listening to this record, recommended to me by my best friend Owen’s niece, Larkin, who was a NPR announcer in Pittsburgh. She was so much younger than us, and I do take comfort and shelter from people my daughter’s age recommending sounds that I MUST hear, and their being so right about it. Between this band and Beach House, I wrote tons that summer at my summer workshop, led by James McKean, who has fallen off my email radar. Hope you’re well Jim. So much has changed.
- “I Follow Rivers,” Lykke Li on her 2010 record, Wounded Rhymes. I’ve followed her since 2014’s I Never Learn, so I decided to look even further back to this gorgeous song. I don’t mind following the right people, and no, our governor isn’t much better than Florida’s, but then, I don’t take my lead from politicians anyway. The creek behind our house is rising again after all the rain overnight, and if I followed it, I’d get to a waterfall downtown. I’d rather, though, listen and follow Lykke, because her sounds make me want to write more and not worry about “participating.”
- “All I Know,” Washed Out, from 2013’s Paracosm. I suppose I could have selected any song from this record, one of my top ten favorites of the decade. I have to be careful, though, and not listen too often, because something about it makes me feel heavy with the dream nostalgia of being fifteen and listening to sounds that made me want to cry, though I had no idea why. I knew too early, felt too early, all that I knew I’d be missing someday. That’s what Washed Out is like for me: I miss what I’ve lost, what I understood I had only for those connected moments. It felt like this:
- “Expecting to Fly,” Buffalo Springfield, Buffalo Springfield Again (1967). Not to give myself too much credit, but when I was fifteen, this was my favorite song. I listened and sang to it every night, though my voice was baritone, and Neil’s…?” I hadn’t found love by that point and so had nothing to lose, nothing that I had really lost. But what does that matter? Songs “sing” to you without any prelude, preamble, or past, really. You hear them, you love them, and they become part of you. And for me, this song, and the quick years following, will make Neil Young my rock muse forever.
- “Day After Day,” Badfinger, 1971, from Straight Up. Fred texted me this morning, at first to remind me that his alma mater, Tulane, was playing football tonight against South Alabama. Must see TV. But then he sent me a photo of his grandson Jesse and his son and daughter-in-law’s dog. That’s the story at the top. Oh, and Fred and I saw Badfinger in Birmingham back in 1972, way before Pete Ham decided that his days were done. Love this song, and so does Fred, and so did my mother, who always let me go, out of my “lonely gloom,” whenever Fred called. Go Green Wave.
- “Creature Comfort,” Arcade Fire, from Everything Now (2017). This is likely my favorite AF record. And when you listen, yes, I am playing something more rhythmically upbeat, but when you consider the lyrics, sorry, nothing so comfortable, nothing so “painless.” Still want to see them live, but I can wait till bars and arenas and anything in between are saner. “I don’t know what I want, and I don’t know if I want it.” Yep, that’s how it feels. That’s today. …a friend of mine, and one not nameless.
Thank you for listening and today is my grandmother’s birthday. She died at 78, back in ’71. You do the math. I can’t.
If you enjoyed this list, try one of these,
and thanks to The Riff and Noah Levy for keeping us pulsing.
