A Playlist Series

American Crisis Playlist #38

American Scream Story

Another mass shooting has filled our skies. I haven’t had the heart to read about all the “thoughts and prayers” sent out to the victims’ families from people who oppose any form of background checks, any checks period on buying deadly weapons. A white man killing Asian Americans: just another violently horrible iteration of someone who believes his world is lost and overwhelmed by people who don’t look like him.

The thing that always seems to get lost — or I should say, ONE thing that always gets lost — is that when we examine the looks of those we see in our immediate world, hardly anyone looks like us or me, though once I was told that I resembled closely the teacher, “Gary,” on that TV series from the 90’s: “Thirtysomething.” That was back when I had long hair, and I do have to say that my hair was once halfway down my back.

Thoughts and prayers to my former hair.

The subtleties of the ways we do and do not look like each other leave us grasping and gasping. The desperation that white skin must be preserved; that fair-hair must be silky and fluffed and passed on to one’s children — these are the things that drive me crazy (echoed later on in the list).

I remember wondering what my Middle Eastern wife’s hair must feel like before I actually touched it. This is where bias and prejudice can grow. Her hair couldn’t possibly be as fine, as soft, as soothing to the touch as mine, or as that of the dyed red-haired girl I crushed on back in high school. No, it had to be rougher, coarser, maybe even scratchy.

Of course it wasn’t any of those qualities. It was hair, different from mine, but ultimately the same.

And as many of you know — and I want to scream this out too — it is very possible to live in a household, to LOVE in a household where two or more languages are spoken. True, not everything will be understood immediately or even after a few hours, but I ask you: whom do you understand immediately or ever?

For God’s sake, I speak the same language as Mitch McConnell, Ted Cruz, and he-whom-I-will-never-name-but-is-the-former-occupant-of-the-WH, and I often have no idea what they’re talking about and if they even know, themselves.

“Seasons change and so do I You need not wonder why.”

With all apologies to The Guess Who, we do have time in this changing season to scream, to change, to do both and wonder why we keep seeing the same horrors and somehow tolerate the same bullshit from tired old white men who think America is one thing, one experience only.

And while I don’t pretend to be a big fan of Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion, it distresses me to hear all the complaints about their Grammy performance from, again, tired white men like Tucker Carlson who somehow believe that this act is a harbinger of the decline of the American Empire. As Jimmy Kimmel offered this week, Yeah, and that experience on January 6 must have been just a farmer’s market stroll. Though I credit the stroll to my daughter.

So easy, right, to blame the Black women as if they’re our real problem.

So, the songs I offer here are both complaints and panaceas; fuel for our outrage and our aesthetic engines. Use them wisely, let that music play, and try to understand the magic men and women of all backgrounds who so clearly color our world.

AMERICAN CRISIS PLAYLIST #38

1. “Love of the Common Man,” Todd Rundgren from Faithful (1976). “The simple things in life/Seem so hard to learn sometimes/And it takes so long Catch it while you can…/cause everyone needs the love of the common man.” For over sixty years I’ve been watching and trying and waiting for the people in my world to quit calling each other names and stop believing that one’s birth heritage is the truest marker of acceptability and worthiness. My mother, quoting Lincoln, I think, used to say that “the Lord sure loves common folk because he made so many of them.” To me, this is one of Todd’s most overlooked songs. It reaches long.
2. “I’m Doin’ Fine Now (without you baby),” New York City, from One Hit Wonders, Vol. 7, and dating back to 1974. “I remember the day you up and left/I nearly cried myself to death.” The lyrics, though not very original, work well in this soulful arrangement. Though I never owned the single, when it came on the radio, I always turned the volume to LOUD and sang. Heartache, loss, betrayal, the lovelorn. These are realities that strike all of us and are our common denominators. Trust the music, even when the love vanishes.
3. “Soulful Strut,” Young-Holt Unlimited (1968) from Soulful Strut. Kevin Alexander got me to remembering this song on his Heavy Rotation story this week: https://readmedium.com/this-weeks-heavy-rotation-10-f7543a9234f. He mentions Barbara Acklin’s “Am I the Same Girl,” which is really another version of “Soulful Strut,” a song I first remember hearing as the background music on Dick Clark’s American Bandstand, when Dick would talk through the rules of the yearly AB dance contest, a contest, I should mention, where couples of any color could compete. I loved the song and it took me a while in those days before Google to identify it. That piano will always be my touchstone for romantic sunsets on the west side of town.
4. “Californian Soil,” London Grammar, from their forthcoming record, Californian Soil. A new song from a band I love. “I left my soul on Californian soil.” I have felt like that recently, as my essay on Literally Literary testifies: https://readmedium.com/san-francisco-dreaming-d4bad927131f?sk=3a9f5e066b0b6dc95425435533766a72. The vocals and strings tell me that I’ve always longed for that land, and I truly haven’t felt the same after imagining and experiencing those San Francisco nights.
5. “Thursday’s Child (Rock Mix),” David Bowie from hours — ‘Expanded Edition’ (2004). “Sometimes I cry my heart to sleep” and stumble upon an album by an adored artist like Bowie, and wonder why I close certain doors and stop taking chances. Kevin put this one in your next heavy rotation, or just listen to it and chat with me what your thoughts are. I was a Sunday’s child, so look all that stuff up and consider friending me. And me, you. Bowie keeps giving and you know what the right-wingers thought about him.
6. “Seeing Other People,” Foxygen, from 2019’s Seeing Other People. Yeah, so it was their San Francisco song that first lured me to them, no wonder, and I’ve kept them on my radar, though not always upfront near head’s edge. Do we? Do we? For my sixty-first birthday a few summers ago, Owen bought tickets to see Foxygen for us. They were playing here in Greenville at a downtown amphitheater. Then Owen had to back out for a vacation with his girlfriend. Then Foxygen canceled. Then Owen died. I see him and other people in my dreams every night, and in waking hours, too.
7. “BAD,” Big Audio Dynamite, from This Is Big Audio Dynamite (1985). “Bad life, bad language, bad news….” As sorry as I was that the Clash split, I was electrified when I heard about BAD and then put this one on my own heavy playback in the mid-80’s, in the days just after I married my wife. We’d dance alone in our old Victorian house-apartment in Knoxville’s Ft. Sanders district. Just us and 30,000 other students climbing over the hilly terrain. “Jesus Christ got crucified so the empire of Rome could get gratified.” That about says it all, speaking of things that drive me crazy. Jesus Christ, then, = Megan Thee Stallion in Tucker’s fantasies.
8. “The Park,” Uriah Heep from 1972’s Salisbury. So one afternoon my across-the-street neighbor Joe called me over to his room in his grandmother’s house, just to play Salisbury for me. Not that I saw Jesus or had any particular sort of revelation that afternoon, but since at that point I didn’t know this band or the literary reference from whence they drew their name, I thought of how life changes on a notion of shared music. Joe did me a good turn then and gave me a joint not long after. So if you listen to this one, go ahead and light up. You’ll heal quickly, or think you have anyway.
9. “Don’t Wanna,” Haim, from Women in Music Pt III (2020). For my daughters, who love Haim. For me, who loves them, too. For us all, because women have been rocking for a long time and still don’t get the justice — though sadly, they do get the knocks from many of us. “I don’t wanna give up on you, I don’t wanna have to.” I feel that way about US. And I AM getting that second vaccine in ten days, so no giving up. Imagine a day when live music can be experienced without streaming or zoom as the normal option. I hope Haim is one of the first acts I get to see/hear!
10. “Road Head,” Japanese Breakfast, from 2017’s Soft Sounds From Another Planet. A beauty to end with this week. Shimmering sounds on the last day of winter. The blue skies make me feel like we could live peacefully forever, and so happy spring. Happy Persian New Year, and happy lands with people of all sorts, especially those who don’t look like me. The road ahead is still long and worth the drive.

The Riff constantly amazes me: the quality of stories written, Noah Levy’s eye for selecting and placing, and my colleagues here, now too many to name, but I’ll name some anyway because I’m so thankful that we’re here and listening together: If Ever You’re Listening, Gary Chapin, Frank Mastropolo, Rob Janicke, Nia Simone McLeod, Kathy Gerstorff, MDSHall, Jessica Lee McMillan, Kathryn Dillon, Alexander Briseño, Mike Marolla, Matt Dwyer, Oliver Norris, Reuben Salsa, Sarah Paris.

Last week’s playlist is here