A Playlist Series

American Crisis Playlist #27

With representatives like these…

First, I should have included The Staple Singers’ “Respect Yourself” in this week’s list, because when it comes to 126 Republican members of the House, and sixteen state attorney generals, “respect” is just another word for believing you’ve got nothing to left to lose. And now, all we’re losing is thousands of more lives every day while politicians of the red kind keep sucking up to the loser in charge by insisting that they are protecting democracy while he is clearly subverting it.

Respect yourself and the rest of us.

The election is over. There was no fraud.

So thanks Staple Singers, because it takes musicians to help us see certain lights.

Honestly, and now there are members of congress, like my birth state Alabama’s Mo Brooks, who will try to challenge the election once more on Jan 6 when Congress meets to affirm the electoral college’s vote, which is occurring tomorrow. I mean, what the f**k is wrong with Alabama? Neil Young asked almost fifty years ago, and while that offended Lynyrd Skynyrd and a few others, no one has ever fully addressed what’s going wrong with Alabama. Maybe if your favorite football team is winning, that’s all you really care about.

Well, I care about the football team, too, but it’s only a minor joy in the midst of so much sorrow. And shit, Mo, how are the Covid cases in Alabama doing and the non-mask wearers? You doing anything about that? No, just go ahead and waste everyone’s time by posturing about an election that…

Trump Lost.

And you who backed him, you lost, too.

Just like my candidate and I lost four years ago. Yes, I whined and complained and redoubled my therapy, but I also accepted the outcome. I hated it, but accepted it, and I don’t necessarily think that my attitude and grip on reality make me a better person that Mo or the OP, but they don’t hurt.

Oh, and The Proud Boys are hanging on, taking unscheduled (or so they say) White House tours and fomenting chaos on city streets. Proud of what, by the way, boys? And why “boys” and not “men?” Or does that say it all?

Maybe I’m just bitter because my fantasy football team got kicked out of the playoffs, but I least I can decipher fantasy from reality.

And actually, the bold roast coffee blend helps. Real Men drink bold roast.

Whether I am bold or not, proud or not, I feel like a better person when I let it all hang out and when music finds me and I, in turn, find and repurpose it.

So here you go, #27 with no apologies.

And be looking in The Riff for a special New Year’s edition where our man decides what his first list of ten perfect songs will be. Clues following.

AMERICAN CRISIS PLAYLIST #27

1. “Show Biz Kids,” Steely Dan, from 1972’s Countdown to Ecstasy. Lost wages. Tell me this song doesn’t get inside your fiber and make you want to dance in ways your body no longer knows, if it ever did. “They got the booze they need, all that money can buy.” I wonder what stars come out “while the poor people are sleeping with the shade on their light?” I wonder what the trump kids will do when they see that show biz has wrung them dry and we “don’t give a fuck about anybody else” in their world.
2. “Do Ya,” ELO, from 1976’s A New World Record. I think I’ve already stated my love for all things Jeff Lynne. In college, I adored this band, and maybe one other guy I knew, who also loved Queen and K.I.S.S., loved them, too. The lyrics here are quite simple, and you could apply them to the loser in the White House who’ll be leaving us soon, but I’m not sure he really wanted anyone’s love. Our pure adoration and worship, but I think “love’ is an abstraction in his world, merely a theoretical concept to make others think there might be a heart in there somewhere. Remember when Elaine said to Jerry, “Maybe there’s more to Newman than meets the eye?” and Jerry responded, “No. there’s less. I’ve looked into his eyes and they’re pure evil.” Kind of like that.
3. “Stop Your Sobbing,” The Kinks from 1964’s Kinks. So, if you read last week’s playlist, you might remember that I professed love and adoration and out and out worship for the Netflix original: The Queen’s Gambit. My wife and I have been stringing this seven-part gem out. We have one episode left, and I can’t stand it. Can’t stand to finish it. I don’t want it to be over, and yeah, that’s me sobbing over my MacBook Pro. Anyway, in episode six, two songs popped up on the soundtrack — one I knew, this one, though I didn’t immediately recognize the artists. Actually, I’m not sure I ever knew who did this song originally, because I know and like a later cover version of it better. I was only eight years old in 1964 when the Kinks were so very young. What will they leave us this time?
4. “Tattooed Love Boys,” Pretenders, from Pretenders, 1980. Notice that this song doesn’t use the adjective “proud.” I noticed. You might not know that I and every other straight, and maybe even many gay, men in 1980 wanted to love Chrissie Hynde. I was only twenty-four, and when she and the band broke out, I had a hard time finishing my Shakespeare seminar paper. Well, to be honest, I would have had a hard time finishing that paper even without being distracted by Chrissie. I might have even gotten a tattoo for her. Yet another of the bands I would kill for love to see live. Isn’t this a good one, though?
5. “Circle the Drain,” Soccer Mommy, from 2020’s Color Theory. Here’s a new one to try on, as we find our Comet and Ajax and Bon Ami to clean the drain that has been so dirtied in the supposed swamp of our collective dream/nightmare. SM has been on my radar since 2018, and she’s getting better all the time, as an artist should. She’s making some best album of the year lists, or at least she did on NPR, you know, one of those ultra-liberal places that actually deeply considers our reality instead of firing from our orange combovers whenever we can’t stop our sobbing.
6. “Tut, tut, tut, tut,” Gillian Hills, from Twistin’ the Rock, Gillian Hills, Vol. 9, maybe from 2002, but who really knows? This is the other song from The Queen’s Gambit I heard in episode six, and I’m not going to explain its content, or try to describe the scene it’s in. because that would be sacrilegious. I didn’t know the song or the artist, and I would also tell you something else that happened to me last night when I played this song, but I’m not that kind of person. And as I recollect it all, I’m smiling, not ….
7. “Jaguar,” Victoria Monet, the title song to this year’s release, Jaguar, another record mentioned by both NPR and The Bitter Southerner as one of the best records of the year. Listen without judgment, or at least do the best you can. I can’t wait to give the rest of the record a better listen as I count the days until Jan. 20, when the White House will finally be fumigated and made safe for two dogs, a cat, and the new president. Meanwhile, thanks Victoria for adding to my personal fave list!
8. “The Hardest Button to Button,” The White Stripes from this month’s Greatest Hits, though originally found on 2003’s Elephant. I can’t believe that this album is seventeen years old. What was I doing or thinking in 2003? I don’t remember except that I was discovering the Stripes and wondering where they had been all my life. Do you think they mean that little button in the back of a man’s collar that he tries to fasten after setting his necktie in place? Another button? Where? All interested parties apply below. This song just gets better as I age. My dog wants to dance with me now, so hang on….
9. “Psychedelic Shack,” The Temptations, from 1970’s Psychedelic Shack. You’ll know it if you see it. C’mon and show me what you mean. “People, let me tell you about a place I know. To get in it don’t take much dough.” The Temps were trying to get next to all of us, and pushing white kids who didn’t quite understand soul to consider that soul was expansive, as are all people. Anyway, this song makes me think of Randy Ford and Ray King, two guys of different stripes whom I attended eighth grade with. They might not agree on much except this song. And I’m with ’em. “That’s where it’s at.”
10. “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long,” Otis Redding, from 1966’s The Very Best of Otis Redding. I finished reading a book last week about a famous disc jockey from Birmingham, Shelley Stewart. Except he was more than a DJ, and the music he played was more than most of us could comprehend. The book is called Mattie C’s Boy, as told by Shelley to Don Keith who, in a former life, was also a DJ. Keith broadcast from WVOK, an AM hit station, and Shelley from WENN, WJLD, and finally WATV, all playing Soul music. Shelley helped the movement for Civil and Human Rights in the Magic City, and almost boarded a plane with Otis one cold, winter night. A voice told him not to. I’m glad he didn’t board and so wish Otis hadn’t either. It’s been too long, really.

So there you have it, Noah Levy, Steven Hale, Jessica Lee McMillan, and If Ever You’re Listening. I love The Riff, and love you for indulging me. Here’s last week’s if you missed it: