Ft. Worth Blues

There are a few live performances I keep going back to--to watch; the extraordinary kind, where the magic is as visual as musical. This is, to me, the strongest argument for making sure you go to see as much live music as you can. Take, for example, Steve Earle appearing with a cadre of other singer/songwriters paying tribute to Townes Van Zandt in 1997. While Earle plays "Ft. Worth Blues," the camera pans to Nanci Griffith, listening intently. Toward the end, it pans back again to capture tears streaming down her cheeks.  Every time I watch it, they stream down mine.

Artist of the Week

As a lawyer, sometimes evicting widows, suing orphanages and rolling naked in stacks of twenties just takes away from less lucrative pursuits, like music and blogging. But ever aware of the social contract and placing aside my aspirations to be a 1%er, there are so many great, unsigned artists to listen to and so little time, without further adieu:

"Music is no way to make a living. It's a way to share the living you make."So begins the bio of Vermont singer/songwriter John Gillette. And a helluva songwriter he is too. His voice is reminiscent of a de-Texafied Lyle Lovett and his songs blend seamlessly blend folk and bluegrass. In the mournful "Riverstone,"Gillette takes gentle aim at the fading allure of an unnamed ex, whose partying is wearing her down "like a riverstone." Less mean that Richard Thompson's "Turning of the Tide," Gillette's skillful use of detail makes for a vivid, unforgettable lyric ("you spent $63 on that hangover"). He's won at least one well-deserved songwriting award and, if music is no way to make a living, I'm just glad Gillette is nonetheless sharing the wonderful living he's made.

Sweet Jesus Jane "Lulu" IS as Bad as I Thought

After listening to the whole godawful thing, I think Metal Machine Music,long regarded as an unlistenable and/or an intentional joke, may not have been the Lou Reed worst recording ever. Lulu is epic bad. By the advanced chatter, see e.g., Steven Hyden's peice in Salon, it sounds like Lulu become a musical meme.

Metal, Art or the Ulimate Marriage of Pretension? Lou Reed and Metallica Together

As much as I liked the Velvet Underground, Lou Reed's later solo recordings, especially since New York, have just sounded tired and his talk-singing even more affected.  Past posts have also betrayed my disinclination toward Metallica. Now the two have formed an unholy alliance to put out Lulu, a two-CD ten song collaboration. You read that right--ten songs, one clocking in at almost twenty minutes long and three others close to ten. I'll not make a snap judgment that this shows overindulgence, but it sounds pretty far away from "Sweet Jane" to me (even the glam version on Rock and Roll Animal). 

You can stream Lulu and decide for yourself. I plan to as well as soon as I can stop laughing over the opening lines of the album's first song, "Brandenburg Gate," in which Reed deadpans:

I would cut my legs and tits off
When I think of Boris Karloff and Kinsky
In the dark of the moon
It made me dream of Nosfuratu
Trapped on the isle of Dr. Moreau

Time will tell whether fans of either artist will find Lulu to their liking.  It will be released on October 31 (a reissue of Metal Machine Music the same day would be too much to ask).

A Fifty Year Flood

October has passed in a flash.  As does all time as we grow older.  This perception is widely shared and way smarter folks than me have tried to explain it.  It just seems as if one year is a much larger percentage of your existential experience when you're 10 than when you're 50.  I'm turning 49 this week.

And working too hard at my real job to do much of anything, but Spotify has been a fun diversion while I'm working on a monster brief.  More on that later, but if you haven't check it out, you should.  It rules Pandora and it is possible a game changer.

Also, I did write one song, "Fifty Year Flood."

Fifty Year Flood by Bill Odle


I won't leave this place behind, either.

The Foo Fighters Being Awesome

The Foo Fighters are my son's favorite band.  When it was announced they were coming to Kansas City, I was able to get three of my firm's Founder's Club VIP tickets at Sprint Center, i.e., really good seats.  I pulled them from a blue interoffice mail envelop (an important detail later on) to show him and then put them safely on top of the pantry.  Months passed. Finally, Friday September 16, 2011 arrived.  About an hour before we were to leave, my wife warned me "make sure you have the tickets."

"I know exactly where they are," I said. I continued to dork around about thirty more minutes because I knew where they were.  As we were about to sit down to a quick dinner, I reached up for the tickets and, sure enough, they were nowhere to be found. Shit. I began a frantic search. If I had moved them, I was drawing an utter blank as to where.

With a slight I-told-you-so-tone, she asked me "are you sure that's where you put them? I don't remember ever seeing concert tickets there." I kept looking and freaking out. I had no clue. After twenty minutes of searching everywhere, she overheard me asking my son if he had seen them and describing the blue envelop.

"Blue envelop?" she asked.

"Yes, a blue firm interoffice mail envelop.  That's what they came in." Silence.

"Oh my God." She looked stricken.  "I put it out with the recycling.  I thought it was just trash."  Fuck. I felt sick, as did she. My son was heartbroken. Then my wife reminded me they were VIP tickets and asked whether there was anyone I could call. I vaguely recalled see contact information in an email and dug through by inbox until I found it.  In minutes, we had new tickets waiting for us at the will call window.

It's a good thing too, because the Foos put on an amazing show.  "We're not like those other bands that play and hour an half set," Dave Grohl announced to an ecstatic crowd.  "We don't fuck around." And they didn't.  Over the next two and a half hours, they plowed through a twenty five or so long set list.  I don't think I've ever seen a band play with more energy, nor one which seems to so genuinely appreciate their audience. Toward the end, they segued into the opening riff of  "Breakdown" as Grohl disappeared into the mosh pit to retrieve a stunned female fan. "I don't know this girl," he told us. "But wherever we play, I can look down and I see her face." She turned out to be French and indeed follows the Foos around the world. After serenading her with some Tom Petty, Grohl remarked how great it is to have such devoted fans.  "And a little creepy," he added.

Speaking of creepy, Friday may also be remembered for the Foos coming outside before the show to perform "Keep it Clean" in response to the mouth-breathing asshat protestors from the Westboro Baptist Church.  Well played, sirs.

Incoming Wilco

When Uncle Tupelo split up, I felt like I was friends with a divorced couple and sort of had to choose which one I was going to keep hanging around.  At first, I thought Jay Farrar was my divorce buddy.  Son Volt's debut, the magnificent Trace, took UT's pioneering alt country sound one step further, while Wilco's first effort, AM, seemed like more of a digression for his former band mate Jeff Tweedy, as he was trying to find his way. I still love Son Volt (and think that Farrar's work with Ben Gibbard on One Fast Move or I'm Gone was brilliant), but I have to hand it to Tweedy.  Like a latter day R.E.M., he has guided Wilco from indie darling to perhaps one of the most important and enduring contemporary American bands.

Tweedy also has a pretty wicked sense of humor.  At a recent Chicago book release party, his solo acoustic cover of the nauseatingly buoyant "I've Got a Feeling" wasn't exactly snark-free nor a parody.  It was just funny as hell.


Wilco's latest effort, The Whole Love, is due out in stores September 23rd.  I missed the forty-eight hour live stream preview, but judging from the first single off the album, the rocking "I Might," this could be Wilco's strongest work since YHF.


Wilco - I Might by antirecords

Even better, Wilco will be appearing at the Uptown Theater in Kansas City on December 3rd.