Mix Tape Friday: Musical Roots

My life is ruled by my passions. I absolutely adore or abhor things. The passion that burns brightest — more than baubles, more than Favorite Boy’s four and a quarter above six feet, more than books or movies or margarita swirls — is music. It’s at the heart of everything I do. If I’m awake, I’m singing or humming or chair-dancing. If I’m asleep, my dreams are soundtracked with a wide variety of songs. I can introduce a musical reference in most conversations, and everyone at my company knows I’m the go-to for the best tune to open a presentation.

Where did this passion ignite?

In the womb. My mother has a musical soul — a trait her three children share, that my brother’s kids (especially my niece) have. My childhood memories are filled with the music she loved and we loved.

Mama was a great age for introducing me to all types of music — young enough to love Elvis and The Beatles, old enough to introduce us to Frank Sinatra and the standards she grew up hearing. Through her, I learned to love all genres of music — rock and pop, R&B and country, jazz standards and gospel.

The radio was always playing. If we were in the kitchen, cooking a meal or cleaning up, chances are we were singing. Music was — and is — a big part of our lives. The first concert was a family night out to see Willie Nelson with Waylon Jennings (and Leon Russell on piano). She gave us our first albums, and always took us to spend allowance on the latest 45 we couldn’t live without.

And so, on this Friday before Mother’s Day, I’m proud to publish this mix tape of her favorite songs, songs that remind me of her, songs that will always be special to me because they’re special to her.

The mix kicks off with the first song I remember loving: Ray Charles’ “Hit the Road, Jack.” My mother loved the song, and so I loved it. How could I not live a life of musical obsession when one of my earliest memories is loving that song?

Ray Charles :: Hit the Road, Jack

Little Richard :: Rip It Up

The Beatles :: Revolution

Rare Earth :: Get Ready

Steve Winwood :: Roll with It

Johnny Rivers :: Memphis

Elvis Presley :: That’s All Right, Mama

Van Morrison :: Blue Money

Michael Jackson :: Billy Jean

Parliament :: P. Funk (Wants to Get Funked Up)

Marvin Gaye :: I Heard It Through the Grapevine

Rod Stewart :: Maggie Mae

Carole King :: Smackwater Jack

Squeeze :: Tempted

Barry Manilow :: Copacabana (At the Copa)

Robert Klein + Lucie Arnaz :: They’re Playing Our Song

Lena Horne :: The Lady Is a Tramp

Billy Joel :: Only the Good Die Young

Neil Diamond :: Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show

Dionne Warwick :: I’ll Never Fall in Love Again

Bobbie Gentry + Glen Campbell :: Little Green Apples

ABBA :: Fernando

Fats Domino :: Blueberry Hill

Etta James :: At Last

Frank Sinatra :: Stars Fell on Alabama

Kevin Kline :: La Mer

Bryan Ferry :: Falling in Love Again

Willie Nelson :: I’d Have to Be Crazy

The Platters :: Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

Elton John :: Someone Saved My Life Tonight

Gladys Knight & The Pips :: Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me

Roberta Flack :: Feel Like Makin’ Love

Phoebe Snow :: Poetry Man

Nat King Cole :: Ramblin’ Rose

Leon Russell :: Back to the Island

R.E.M. :: Wichita Lineman

Janis Joplin :: Me and Bobby McGee

Waylon Jennings + Jesse Colter :: Suspicious Minds

Norah Jones :: Come Away with Me

Aretha Franklin :: (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman

Tony Bennett + k.d. lang :: Dream a Little Dream of Me

Simon & Garfunkel :: Flowers Never Bend with the Rainfall

Blood, Sweat & Tears :: And When I Die

Bobby Darin :: Splish Splash

Big Mama Thornton :: Hound Dog

Ruth Brown :: 5-10-15 Hours

Jerry Lee Lewis :: Good Rockin’ Tonight

Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass :: Taste of Honey

Luciano Pavarotti, Placido Domingo + José Carreras :: Funiculì, Funiculà

Download all these gems with one right-click to the zip file and get back to that handmade Mother’s Day card you’ve been working on all day.

"Revolution" kicks off a short set of some of Mama and OM’s favorite dance songs. Damn, those two could work a dance floor. They were perfect partners.

Okay, so chances are my mother has never heard R.E.M.’s cover of the Jimmy Webb classic “Wichita Lineman” … but Glen Campbell already appeared with Bobbie Gentry … and you know I had to work in the boys somehow. It’s a damn good cover.

But she has heard Parliament’s “P-Funk.” We’d often spend a weekend in the mountains during our junior high and high school years. My brother brought along his tape (maybe an 8-track?) of Mothership Connection for one drive, and Mama enjoyed listening to it. I don’t know if it’s wishful thinking in this embellishing Southern brain or a true moment, but I remember her singing along with the chorus. Yep, Mama’s cool.

Squeeze made it on the tape for a different — yet just as cool — reason. My parents, my sister, and I went to Europe in 1984 — a year of intense Tilbrook obsession. I’d read that he deejayed weekly at a club (if memory serves, it was something like The Yow Club) — and I was dying to go. Mama said if I could find it, she’d go with me. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t find it during our three days there. She’s damn cool, that one.

My parents saw They’re Playing Our Song — the musical story of Marvin Hamlisch and Carole Bayer Sager’s love affair — on Broadway in the late 1970s. During the intermission, Ruth Gordon grabbed OM’s arm, saying, “Isn’t this fun?” Mama brought home the soundtrack, and we listened to it all the time. I haven’t listened to the album in ages — but I had quite the Great White Way evening listening to the theme over and over (and over and over, for about 45 minutes) Monday — singing at the top of my lungs, dancing down the hall like a “Step It up and Dance” contestant, jazz-handing with the cat. I’m proud to say I can hold Lucia Arnez’s long note — not beautifully, but I held it.

Mama and I saw the great Lena Horne in The Lady and Her Music at the Fox Theater. We’ve shared some great concerts.

What are your mama's favorite songs?

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Mix Tape Friday: Excitable Boy

When you love music as much as I do, when much of your life revolves around that passion, you tend to fall in love with a musician or two, someone with whom you feel a connection because of his music and performances.

One of the great loves of my musical life is Warren Zevon. Warren died four years ago today. And so today’s mix tape (actually, two mix tapes) is all Zevon. The first tape includes favorites from Zevon’s catalog; the second tape has covers of his songs and covers he performed.

Interesting mix of folks who covered Warren: The Pixies and The Pretenders, Hank Williams Jr. and Van Dyke Parks, the father/son duo of Bob Dylan and The Wallflowers — even Adam Sandler. Impressive mix of folks who recorded with
Zevon: Neil Young and Bob Dylan, my R.E.M boys, that Eagles crowd, even Emmylou Harris.

Don’t shrug off this mix tape as filler by a one-hit wonder from the mid-1970s; give Warren’s songs a listen. I have cried and laughed and lived a life during the fortysomething minutes of a Zevon album. He was one of the most literate songwriters to spin on my turntable, my CD player, my iPod, one of the best performers I’ve seen on stage. Take the time to listen to the lyrics — some of the best rhymes and lines put to music you’ll ever hear — as well as the intricate piano and guitar.

God, I miss him.




Side A: The Ballads

Warren Zevon: Bill Lee
Warren Zevon: Mohammed’s Radio
Warren Zevon: Genius
Warren Zevon: Desperados Under the Eaves
Warren Zevon: Suzie Lightning
Warren Zevon: Carmelita
Warren Zevon: Please Stay
Warren Zevon: Reconsider Me
Warren Zevon: Accidentally Like a Martyr
Warren Zevon: You Don’t Know What Love Is
Warren Zevon: Searching for a Heart
Warren Zevon: Don’t Let Us Get Sick
Warren Zevon: Keep Me in Your Heart

Side B: The Brawlers

Warren Zevon: I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead
Warren Zevon feat. Neil Young + Peter Buck, Mike Mills, and Bill Berry: Sentimental Hygiene
Warren Zevon feat. Bruce Springsteen: Disorder in the House
Warren Zevon: Ain’t That Pretty at All
Warren Zevon: Lawyers, Guns, and Money
Warren Zevon feat. Peter Buck, Mike Mills, and Bill Berry: Detox Mansion
Warren Zevon: Frank and Jesse James
Warren Zevon: Excitable Boy
Warren Zevon feat. Michael Stipe, Peter Buck, Mike Mills, and Bill Berry: Bad Karma
Warren Zevon: Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner
Warren Zevon: Renegade
Warren Zevon: Play It All Night Long
Warren Zevon feat. David Letterman + The World’s Most Dangerous Band: Hit Somebody (The Hockey Song)
Warren Zevon: My Shit’s Fucked Up
Warren Zevon: Poor Poor Pitiful Me
Warren Zevon: Things to Do in Denver When You’re Dead

Side A: He Covers

Warren Zevon: A Certain Girl
Hindu Love Gods: Battleship Chains
Warren Zevon: Back in the High Life Again
Warren Zevon: Cadillac Ranch
Warren Zevon + David Lindley: Casey Jones
Hindu Love Gods: Mannish Boy
Warren Zevon + Jill Sobule: Jackson
Hindu Love Gods: Raspberry Beret
Warren Zevon: Bo Diddley’s a Gunslinger/Bo Diddley
Warren Zevon + R.E.M.: Up on the Floor
Hindu Love Gods: Wang Dang Doodle
Warren Zevon feat. Ariel Zevon: Laissez Moi Tranquille
Warren Zevon: Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door

Hindu Love Gods, in this instance, is Warren Zevon, Peter Buck, Mike Mills, and Bill Berry. It was a band name R.E.M. used a lot in their earlier days when they played surprise shows around Athens.

Side B: They Cover

Grateful Dead: Werewolves of London
Bruce Springsteen: My Ride’s Here
The Pixies: Ain’t That Pretty at All
Hank Williams Jr.: Lawyers, Guns, and Money
Jackson Browne feat. Bonnie Raitt: Poor Poor Pitiful Me
Bob Dylan: Mutineer
Pete Yorn: Splendid Isolation
The Pretenders: Reconsider Me (monitor mix)
Linda Ronstadt: Poor Poor Pitiful Me
Magnolia Electric Co.: Werewolves of London
David Lindley + Ry Cooder: Monkey Wash, Donkey Rinse
Billy Bob Thornton: The Wind
Jill Sobule: Don’t Let Us Get Sick
Jorge Calderon + Jennifer Warnes: Keep Me in Your Heart
Don Henley: Searching for a Heart
The Wallflowers: Lawyers, Guns, and Money
Linda Ronstadt: Hasten Down the Wind
Steve Earle + Reckless Kelly: Reconsider Me
Bob Dylan: Lawyers, Guns, and Money
Adam Sandler: Werewolves of London
Van Dyke Parks: Keep Me in Your Heart

I hope I turned a couple of you into fans.

I published a post about Excitable Boy about a year ago, in case you haven’t had enough of my Zevon gushings.

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Oasis: (What's the Story) Morning Glory?

When the Britpop invasion of the mid-1990s was in full swing, I was just starting out with the Longtime. We were still at that squishy stage where we bought CDs both would enjoy, and bands such as Oasis and Blur bored him. So, for me Oasis was a guilty pleasure savored on the car radio.

My best friend and her husband adore them — Oasis is their R.E.M. — so I always knew the latest news, minutiae that compares to what I could tell you about R.E.M. And my buddy Ms. Lemke was just as nuts about Noel and Liam. I was well versed in all things Gallagher, without a single CD on the O shelf.

Fast-forward to January 2001: Longtime and I had a dry run on the breakup gig and he moved out. Within a week I found myself doing things I didn’t while longtimed. Watching “Gilmore Girls.” Cooking big Southern breakfasts. Making noise before 11 a.m. And buying, then falling in love with, every damn Oasis and Blur CD.

A disclaimer: None of these new activities were forbidden by Longtime. He’s as far from demanding as you can get; he’s quite sweet, actually. But you do some things when you’re coupled, and different things when you’re singled.

(What’s the Story) Morning Glory? was my first Oasis find at the neighborhood used CD shop. I went home, listened, and was hooked. It has remained my favorite since that January Saturday.
Why, you ask? Well, look at the track listing; it’s practically a greatest-hits album. Five tracks are still played regularly on Atlanta radio*: “Roll with It,” “Wonderwall,” “Don't Look Back in Anger,” “Morning Glory,” “Champagne Supernova.” The rest of the tracks are just as fab, particularly “Hello,” “She’s Electric,” and “Some Might Say.” Okay, hell, the whole damn album is brilliant; there’s isn’t a skip-it on the album.

*A dig at Renae and Greg, who complain they don’t hear Oasis on New York/Connecticut stations.

I had a very rough Monday. Dave FM rewarded my crazy day with “Wonderwall” four minutes from my driveway. There was a hint of a drizzle, so I opened the sunroof, cranked the radio, sang to the top of my lungs, and pulled into the drive as those last lovely notes trailed off. Tension gone from the shoulders, I walked in and played the entire CD, dancing my ampleness off until I realized it was time to resurrect My Soundtrack series.

Oasis is just a damn-near perfect band. Great hooks, fun lyrics, kick-ass guitar. And best of all: You can dance to it!

There are few songs that are so perfect you have to just. stop. and. listen. every time it comes on. Your brain just doesn’t want to waste those four minutes on tasks or thoughts, can’t concentrate on what you’re doing at that moment, but instead focuses completely on that song. “Wonderwall” is one of those songs for me. That acoustic guitar, the strings, the bass and drums are enough to make it A Great Song. But then you listen to the lyrics and … swoon.

The Beloved Engineer, who is also a musician, laughed at me when I told him I thought “Wonderwall” was a terribly romantic song. Having played in many local cover bands, he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get the romance of these lyrics?

There are many things that I would like to say to you,
But I don’t know how.
Because maybe, you’re gonna be the one that saves me.
And after all, you’re my wonderwall.

How wonderful is “Wonderwall”? It’s always the ringtone for the current beau.

Have you ever heard the “Wonderwall” covers by Ryan Adams or Cat Power? Both are heartbreakingly beautiful. Noel was so impressed with Ryan Adams’ version that he often plays it that way. Very cool that the originator will emulate the other guy.

“Champagne Supernova” is one of my ten favorite songs to hear while driving. Something about the waves in the beginning, the calming music, those lovely, trippy, easy-to-sing-along lyrics. It always leaves me joyful, especially when I’m in a black mood.

It’s also the ringtone for Renae.

I was lucky enough to finally see Oasis live in September 2005. I went with Ms. Lemke, who landed second-row seats in front of Noel.

Liam “smiling” for the camera.

I don’t remember a single sitdown once Oasis hit the stage. Dancing, singing, talking to everyone around us. It was definitely, not maybe, an amazing experience. I will never again miss an Oasis tour, and have plans to hit the New York City shows with Renae and Greg. I can’t wait to see those two the moment the first note is played.

How amazing is a live Oasis show? Renae’s long-suffered sciatica was miraculously healed while dancing during a 1997 show — and her back remains un-sciatica’ed to this day.

One of my favorite parts of the show was Liam’s stance during Noel’s solos — and he stanced right in front of us. He worked the whole rockstar thing — posing, still as could be, cool and adorable. I giggled every time. I still giggle when I see these pix.

Liam rock-stancin’ it right in front of us.

I regret that it took me so long to buy an Oasis CD, and even longer to see them live. Don’t follow in my procrastinating footsteps; log onto iTunes and download all you can today.

p.s. Did you notice I got through an entire Oasis post without comparing them to The Beatles? I’m rather proud of myself …

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It Was Forty Years Ago Today

But I covered that story 365 days ago.

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UPDATE: Check out Thunderbird’s tribute.

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Oh, this is my 300th post.

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I Asked … and I Answered

I’ve been enjoying the interviews going around our little corner of the blogosphere, so I wildly waved my virtual hand when my new favorite blogger, Artful Dodger over at Rants Raves Life and Anything Else That Comes, ran his Gizmorox interview.

I enjoy Rants Raves etc., but I also love his nom de blog. I had a thing for Jack Wild after seeing him play the Artful Dodger in Oliver! I quit baton lessons because they were scheduled at the same time as H.R. Pufnstuf, and I was not going to miss my Wild fix. I could have been a majorette …

The Artful Dodger threw five good questions at me. Let’s see if I can give him — and y’all — interesting answers.


Artful Dodger: What was your favorite concert ever?

Cup: You had to start with the toughest question, didn’t you? So many great shows … but I’d have to say R.E.M.’s closing show for the Green tour (Fox Theater, November 13, 1989). The boys came out, started with “Radio Free Europe,” and performed Murmur all the way through “West of the Fields” … took a break … came back, performed Green from beginning to end … then played “Wild Thing,” “Fall on Me,” “Low,” and “Finest Worksong.” Scrivener was there, too (and one of these days, I’ll dig up that boot and make you a copy, sir). It was the last time I heard a lot of those songs played live.

First runner-up: The Warren Zevon show at Center Stage in January 1991 … because I got a backstage pass … and Warren kissed me. I need to tell that story sometime …


AD: Name your top five favorite albums of all time and why.

C: I’ve covered them in my soundtrack series (which returns in May), so here are the albums and the links to those posts (these posts are damn interesting, I must admit, so click away):

• R.E.M.: Murmur: Probably my favorite album ever.

• The Beatles: Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band: The album that changed my life and turned me into a music fanatic.

• Rolling Stones: Let It Bleed: I think it’s the best Stones album. And who can live without a Stones album on your top-five list?

• Warren Zevon: Excitable Boy: One of the best songwriters I’ve ever heard. He could tell a great, vivid story in just three or four minutes. And the weirdest sense of humor …

• Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong: Ella & Louis: We grew up listening to the standards, and nobody can sing ‘em like Ella and Louis. Simply brilliant.


AD: How did you get into blogging?

C: My friend Paul and I have had one helluva entertaining e-mail conversation going since 1997. We pontificate … we bitch … we make each other laugh … and we’re damned impressed with some of the words that come out of our fingers. He started bugging me a few years ago to start a blog and share that brilliance with the world. I’d become addicted to reading blogs — first Paul’s and Jeremy’s, then any interesting blog I stumbled across. Finally, one night about a year ago, I just sat down and started A Cup of Coffey. It’s been quite an experience and a good writing exercise for me.


AD: If you could go back in time and change one thing, what would it be?

C: I’d go back to around 6 p.m. on January 10, when I backed into the brick foundation of my new abode, my first day moving. This time, I’d notice the slight curve in the drive as I backed out. Still makes me sick to look at my bashed Beetle bumper. There are a couple of more private moments I’d pick first … but I’ll keep those private.


AD: What's your favorite thing to do on a rainy day?

C: Sit out on a covered porch (or in my new home, in front of the screened door to the deck) … bottle of wine next to me … book in front of me … iPod playing behind me. Or lie on the sofa and watch back-to-back-to-back-to-back movies.


Want me to interview you?
• Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me!” If your e-mail address isn’t on your blog, e-mail me.
• I’ll send you five questions.
• You’ll answer all five questions on your blog.
• Include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.

C'mon, kids, let me get all nosy on you.

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Capitol Records: Merry Christmas to You!

I love the Christmas season —the excitement and anticipation, the lights and sounds swirling around you, that feeling of pure joy. I’ve been a nut about Christmas all my life; I'm quite the geek, actually. But how could I not be in love with this magical season, with this imagination? My mother loves Christmas, too, so Christmas spirit filled our house from Thanksgiving evening through Christmas night. She made Santa come alive, and I believed as long as I could.

How did I find out about Santa? My third grade teacher asked those of us who believed in Santa to raise our hands. Four of us did. She then told us we were old enough to know the truth and spilled the evil beans. Broke my heart. Coal-hearted b*tch.

Putting up the Christmas tree kicked off the season. Mama, my sister and brother, and I would gather in the living room to decorate the tree — a rare treat, as the living room was off-limits unless company came over — and Mama would put on this Christmas album, her favorite holiday hits from her teens. We’d sing and hang ornaments and talk about what Santa might bring. When we finished, OM would come in to give the tree his blessing. Yes, it sounds hokey and wholesome, as if Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed were playing our parents … but that’s the way it went at the Coffey house.

And those memories are why Capitol’s Merry Christmas to You! (released around 1955) is my favorite Christmas album. And as it says on the cover, it’s a high fidelity recording.

The collection of songs is awesome. Okay, some are silly and a bit Dr. Demento — but they’re fabulous when you’re a kid. This album introduced me to Nat King Cole’s “A Christmas Song,” still one of the most sublime holiday songs ever recorded.

It has taken me years, more than a decade, to track down most of the songs on CD — an Eddie Bauer collection here, a Christmas cocktails album there — but I got the last of my favorites two seasons ago, thanks to the Elf soundtrack.

So here, dear readers, are my Capitol Christmas classics:

Upload music at Bolt.

Dean Martin: “Christmas Blues”
Dino at his Dinoest. This is one of the first five Christmas songs I listen to when I pull out the collection Thanksgiving night. Those brightly packaged, tinsel-covered Christmas blues. I wanna grab a martini glass and swirl and swig in front of a fireplace with every listen.

Frank Sinatra: “The Christmas Waltz”
The best Frank holiday song evah. I listen to this right after the first “Christmas Blues” spin. It’s that time of year when the world falls in love / Every song you hear seems to say / Merry Christmas, may your New dreams come true / And this song of mine, in three-quarter time / Wishes you and yours the same thing, too.

Johnny Mercer: “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town”
Nobody has ever bested my fellow Georgian on making “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town” swing better — no, not even Bruce Springsteen, so don’t even go there with me. Just listen. And swing.

Billy May & His Orchestra: “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer Mambo”
Speaking of swinging, did you know that Rudolph is better with a little mambo thrown in? ‘Tis so. Get up and dance around your desk right now, and get that party started.

Les Baxter: “Santa Claus’ Party”
I love the movie Elf, and the soundtrack is fab — plus, it includes this song, the one I’ve been missing since I packed up my turntable for another day. It’s goofy, it’s happy — just the kind of song a freckled-faced, bespectacled kid wanted to hear while putting her favorite Uncle Bob decorations on the branches. A Christmas tree so high / It pokes right through the sky / And Santa will be there to call / Merry Christmas to you all!

Track Listing

Side One:
1. Frank Sinatra: White Christmas
2. Les Paul & Mary Ford: Jingle Bells
3. Frank Sinatra: The Christmas Waltz
4. Yogi Yorgesson: I Yust Go Nuts at Christmas
5. Margaret Whiting & Jimmy Wakely: Silver Bells
6. Mel Blanc: Christmas Tree
7. Johnny Mercer: Winter Wonderland
8. Les Baxter: Santa Claus’ Party

Side Two:
1. Nat “King” Cole: The Christmas Song
2. Billy May: Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer Mambo
3. Les Paul & Mary Ford: Silent Night
4. Louis Castellucci: Sleigh Ride
5. Dean Martin: The Christmas Blues
6. Johnny Mercer: Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town
7. Margaret Whiting: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
8. Nat “King” Cole: (All I Want for Christmas Is) My Two Front Teeth

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Marvin Gaye: What’s Going On

Next to punk/post-punk/new wave/alternative (yes, it’s one large, inclusive genre in my world), 1970s R&B is my favorite. It was the heyday of soul, the birth of funk, probably the greatest era of male voices in my lifetime. We’ve covered my favorite R&B crooner, Al Green, on these pages. Now it’s time for Marvin.

We found a great record store last week in Baltimore — Sound Garden, in Fells Point — where I discovered new bands while flirting with the blushing, shy record store boy. But the best part (yes, even better than the flirting) was I found a copy of the remastered What’s Going On — for just seven bucks. I have it on vinyl, but the CD is long gone (damn exes), so finding it was a thrill. (But who the hell could sell such a beauty?) I bet I haven’t listened to the entire album in ten years. And I haven’t stopped listening since I got home.

Marvin Gaye changed the world of R&B in 1971 when he released What’s Going On — the first concept album in the soul bins. It came out years before Stevie Wonder’s Songs in the Key of Life or Innervisions. It’s a sublime song cycle of protest, supposedly sung from the point of view of a disillusioned Vietnam War vet upon his return home. The war and poverty, ecology and injustice are covered in some of the loveliest songs to cut the edge that year.

Put the album in context of what an R&B album was in the sixties and early seventies: a collection of hits with filler tunes. At that time, R&B and soul were, for the most part, recorded for singles, not albums. What’s Going On changed that.

You youngsters out there have heard “What’s Going On” and “Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology).” Both are great pop songs that stand on their own … but you need to hear the album from beginning to end to get the full effect. Don’t worry; you’ll thank me. Think of What’s Going On as a symphony or an opera. The songs flow from one into another, following a theme in music and subject. Marvin wove in jazz and classical influences in these nine R&B tunes, taking his music to a new level.

Trivia: If I remember correctly, What’s Going On was the first album to list The Funk Brothers in its credits. If you don’t know who The Funk Brothers are, rent Standing in the Shadows of Motown this weekend.

My three favorite tracks? Can’t do it. What’s Going On really needs to be heard from the opening bars of “What’s Going On” until the last note fades on “Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler).” If you like the two hits, you’ll love the album.

Do I need to say how much I love this album, how much joy it brings me every time I listen?

Rolling Stone named What’s Going On the album of the year in 1971, and it’s often (and deservedly) included the top ten of any definitive music list. Not just R&B, but all popular music in the rock era. And, damn, it deserves every accolade it gets.

You’ll want to come back every Tuesday in December, kids, as I feature my favorite Christmas albums. Yes, a full month of Christmas albums. And you’re gonna love it.

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The English Beat: I Just Can’t Stop It

With all our chat about 1,001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die, I thought it fitting this week to feature an album I love for the best reason: because it brings me pure joy every time I listen. As we all said in the comment box, it doesn’t matter whether or not a music critic considers it an “important” album; what matters is what the songs mean to you.

I was blessed during the 1980–81 school year to snag the coolest job on campus: public relations/public affairs director of WRAS, long considered one of the best college radio stations in the nation. My job was to coordinate public affairs announcements and on-air the giveaways — concert tickets, albums, and the like.

Before I joined the radio station, I was a bit of a music luddite. I read Rolling Stone and bought albums and listened to the radio, but I rarely ventured beyond the FM rock station. I listened to the UGA campus station during my two years there — Kermit the Frog, followed by something from The Sound of Music, then Billy Joel’s “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant,” to a local band — and I enjoyed its freeform style. But WRAS was different; it took college radio and music seriously. I was listening to more than the standards by Elvis Costello and Joe Jackson, The Clash and The Ramones. I was exposed to post-punk, new wave, singer-songwriters — a plethora of genres and some of the best (and, sadly, unheard) music of the early 1980s.

My first three album giveaways remain among my all-time favorites: The B-52’s Wild Planet, Joan Armatrading’s Me Myself I, and The English Beat’s I Just Can’t Stop It. These albums changed me; they opened me up to new genres and new sounds. I’ve already covered the first two, so today let’s obsess about The English Beat.

I could go on and on about how I Just Can’t Stop It is the perfect ska album, how its influence can still be heard today, how its members went on to found General Public and Fine Young Cannibals, and what an oversight that it’s not included on the 1,001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die list.

I love new wave ska, the 2 Tone era — The English Beat, The Specials, Madness, Selecter. Funny that reggae — such an important influence on ska — drives me batty. I wish I liked reggae … I’ve tried … but I can’t take more than one song at a time. Uncool of me, yes, but I must be honest.

But it’s something else for me. That English Beat album has the sound of youth and freedom, that joie de vivre of your early twenties … when “responsibility” was just a vocabulary word … when dancing all night and singing all day was the way you led your life. It’s one of those albums that makes me feel twenty-five years younger the moment I hear the first note.

I Just Can’t Stop It was released — gasp! — twenty-six years ago. But it doesn’t sound dated; it’s still fresh and alive and danceable. Back in my bookstore days, I was thrilled to find that the young Jeremy also loved The Beat (as they were known in the UK). He was a wee lad during their heyday, but he recognized their brilliance later on (Jeremy rocks, kids).

I Just Can’t Stop It includes two brilliant covers: Andy Williams’ “Can’t Get Used to Losing You” (Dave Wakeling’s vocals are sublime on the track, as buttery smooth as Andy’s) and Smokey Robinson’s “Tears of a Clown” (lovely that a heartache song can be so much fun to dance to, as it is here). When you have two covers nearly as good as the originals, you know you have something.

The album’s brilliance continues to sparkle with “Whine and Grine/Stand Down Margaret,” “Hands off … She’s Mine,” “Ranking Full Stop” … the entire album, really.

“Mirror in the Bathroom” is one of the best album openers ever. Electrifying energy. I just can’t stop it when it comes to dancing to this tune. “Can I take you to a restaurant that’s got glass tables / You can watch yourself while you are eating.”


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How many times have I worn out my body dancing hard and fast to “Twist and Crawl”?


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Along with “Save It for Later” (from Special Beat Service), “Best Friend” is one of The Beat’s best pop songs. It sounds as deliriously happy as I feel about my best friends.


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* * * * * *

Prince: Purple Rain

One of the most demoralizing news stories I’ve heard lately is not about Haggard or Foley, Bush or Hussein. It’s about Prince and the fact that the de-symboled one has sold out and — shudder — gone Vegas on us. So let’s remember Prince’s prime … when he still had integrity and produced great albums.

For me, it’s Purple Rain. That first organ note of “Let’s Go Crazy,” and I’m back in the summer of 1984 — a steamy, sultry, sexy summer for me. We won’t go into those details, but trust me when I say it was one helluva summer.

I first became a Prince fan with “I Wanna Be Your Lover,” way back in 1979. Judged purely on the songs, Purple Rain isn’t my favorite. I prefer his first few albums for the funk, and “My Name Is Prince” may be my favorite from his oeuvre. But for passion and memories and just plain fun, I always come back to Purple Rain. And aren’t the memories associated with a song or album as important as the musicology of it?

The Prince sellout spreads. Morris Day is now doing television commercials for a local Toyota dealer. Seems it’s time to buy or something.

Some of Purple Rain sounds dated, I guess, but it also rocks the rafters, thanks to Wendy and Lisa. Maybe he needs to call them again.

“Let’s Go Crazy” kicks off the album — maybe a bit too theatrically, but I’ve always loved its energy.



“I Would Die 4 U,” along with “Take Me with U,” is the pop highlight. Yeah, I know I should say "When Doves Cry" ... but it just got played to death ... although Renae does a fabulous job reenacting the video.



Forget all the Tipper Gore brouhaha over “Darling Nikki.” And forget about the magazine-related activities. It’s a damn fun, balls-to-the-walls rock tune. And that backward stuff at the end is still neat. C’mon; can your hips stay still when Prince sings about Nikki starting to grind? Mine can’t.


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Go home. Pull out your Purple Rain and relive the eighties.

* * * * * *

Sam Phillips: Martinis and Bikinis

Every once in a very rare while you hear a song that grabs you, one that so knocks you for a loop that years later you remember exactly where you were the first time you heard it. Sam Phillips’ “I Need Love” is one of those rare songs for me (March 1994, in a client’s conference room, working on graphics for an air-conditioning repair training manual, tuned to WRAS/Album 88; sounds like I’m Miss Scarlett and I did it with the candlestick, doesn’t it?).



I grabbed my purse, headed to the nearest record store, and spent that afternoon and the rest of that week (heck, that month) listening to Martinis and Bikinis over and over and over. Sam Phillips voice captivated me … and there’s some kid playing guitar who just might make it big one day. Fast-forward twelve years, and this album still mesmerizes me. Lovely, catchy, haunting, sparkling.

Dan and I recently talked about the I-remember-the-first-time- I-heard-it phenomenon. We both know where we were the first time we heard The Cardigans’ “Gordon’s Gardenparty” — a warm Saturday afternoon in early March, listening to Album 88 as we pulled into the Kroger parking lot. We stayed in the car and danced until the end of the song, then went and bought the CD after we’d filled the trunk with groceries.

This week’s album is one you may not have heard. And that’s a sad thing. Martinis and Bikinis is a sublime, unique, Beatlesque beauty, and it’s on my Top 100. The album was produced by her then-husband, the brilliant T-Bone Burnett, with great guitar work by Peter Buck. She wrote most of the songs, and co-wrote a few with Burnett. For those of you keeping score at home, it wasn’t Peter’s guitar that sold me on the album; that’s just glorious icing on the cake.

Yeah, “Beatlesque” is overused. Seems every time an intelligent pop song comes out, we’re raving about its Beatlesqueness. But I think Martinis and Bikinis earns the label. Smart lyrics layered with catchy rhythm (and is it okay if I swoon again about Peter Buck’s guitar?). And, damn, that voice. God, I love Sam Phillips’ voice. I want to sound like that.

Sam Phillips started out as a Christian singer. She didn’t like the way she was marketed, so she changed her name and began recording secular music. You may be familiar with Sam’s voice via “Gilmore Girls”; she sings the “lalalala” breaks, and she was featured in last season’s finale with all the other cool kids. She was also one of the sirens in O Brother, Where Art Thou?.

Martinis and Bikinis is a perfect album. There, I said it. And I mean it. There isn’t one throwaway track on the disc. When I put it on, I want to stop everything so that I can sing and dance and twirl and rock a bit, just get lost in the album. Do yourself a favor. Listen to today’s selections, fall in love as I did, then click the above link and get your own copy. It was hard — damn hard — to pick a couple of tracks, but I think these will give you the flavor of Martinis and Bikinis.

“Love and Kisses” stars the album, fading into “Signposts.” They’ve always gone together to me, so I’ve put them together here. I love the sharp contrast between the two songs.


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I have to admit, it’s Peter’s playing that grabs me in “Same Changes,” but I also love the vocals and lyrics.


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I’m very particular about John Lennon covers, and there are few women who can pull it off. Sam nails “Gimme Some Truth” — and her version is further proof of her Beatlesqueness.


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* * * * * *

Hedwig and the Angry Inch Soundtrack

Hedwig and the Angry Inch is, hands down, the best soundtrack in my CD closet — better than Saturday Night Fever, better than Garden State, yes, better than Grease. Well, there is Help! and A Hard Day’s Night, and Pete Townshend’s rock operas rock … so let’s say it’s my favorite soundtrack of the last thirty years.

Movie synopsis, courtesy of Wikipedia: Hedwig and the Angry Inch is an off-Broadway musical theater play (1998) and film (2001) about a fictional rock and roll band fronted by a transsexual singer. The text is by John Cameron Mitchell and the music and lyrics are by Stephen Trask. The story draws on the life of Jayne County, the original transgender rocker, the androgynous glam rock era of David Bowie (who produced the original run of the show), early punk rocker Iggy Pop, and the gender bender fashions of the early 1980s. The show was repeatedly workshopped by Mitchell and Trask at New York's famed Squeezebox Club before opening at the Jane Street Theater (located in the Hotel Riverview) on February 14, 1998.

What makes the soundtrack great? It has some of the best rock and glam and punk tunes released in 2001. The music is as much a character of the film as are John Cameron Mitchell and Michael Pitt and Miriam Shor. But it works on its own, too; in fact, I fell in love with the album a month or two before I saw the film. (Damn, I wish I’d seen the stage play.)

John Cameron Mitchell penned the lyrics and Stephen Trask wrote the music. Mitchell sings all of Hedwig's songs, while Trask sings the Tommy Gnosis tunes. And Bob Mould plays guitar. How cool is that?

Hedwig and the Angry Inch — the movie and the soundtrack — have long been part of my wannabeau litmus test, along with R.E.M., Patch Adams, Letterman vs. Leno, and The DaVinci Code. I don’t know if I could fully love a man who didn’t enjoy the movie or soundtrack. Deep, aren’t I?

Forget that this is a soundtrack. Just listen to the songs. It was hard to pick just three; I feel guilty for not including “Origin of Love” or “Midnight Radio” or “Nailed” or “Exquisite Corpse” or … well, you get the idea. It’s that good, kids.

“Angry Inch” gives you the background of Hedwig and her angry inch. I hope you’ll be singing “Six inches forward / And five inches back / I got an angry inch” all day long.


There are certain songs I must listen to while getting dolled up for a night on the town. “Wig in a Box” is one of those tunes. I get to have a little cabaret moment as the eyeliner dries, singing and dancing and prancing all over the townhouse. I’d love to be Miss Beehive 1963. (That’s not Rachel Griffith in the video; it’s John Cameron Mitchell.)


The Tommy Gnosis version of “Wicked Little Town,” sung by Stephen Trask, is the loveliest song on the album. It’s on my Sunday morning playlist; the sadness and heartache and letting go is perfect for those early morning drives.


The Hedwig love doesn’t stop with the soundtrack. Wig in a Box, a tribute album from 2003 that benefited the Harvey Milk School, includes the best performer list in years: our beloved Minus 5 with Cyndi Lauper, Rufus Wainwright, Frank Black, Robyn Hitchcock, Bob Mould, Sleater-Kinney with Fred Schneider, The Breeders, Spoon, Yo La Tengo with Yoko Ono, The Bens (Kweller, Folds, and Lee), They Might Be Giants, Jonathan Richman — even Stephen Colbert. Click the link and buy a copy; it’s brilliant.

* * * * * *

Gram Parsons: GP/Grevious Angel

Gram Parsons was a brief, beautiful moment in the late 1960s and early 1970s. He started a new genre — country rock — discovered a beautiful voice in Emmylou Harris, made the Nudie suit cool, influenced every alt-country band performing today (whether they know it or not). And he grew up in Georgia, just one of many influential musicians from my home state.

The five-second Gram Parsons biography: Started with The International Submarine Band, played with The Byrds (check out Sweethearts of the Rodeo), then went the next level of country rock with The Flying Burrito Brothers, finally going solo in 1972. He died of an overdose on September 19, 1973 (click here if you don’t know the legend of his cremation at Joshua Tree National Monument).

Will from Will & Ben’s Record Room is writing a wonderful series on The Byrds. You can start reading it here; I highly recommend the click-and-read.

But that’s not why I love Gram Parsons’ music. I love it because he was a sublime singer, an honest performer, a brilliant songwriter.

GP/Grievous Angel was released on one CD. GP came out in early 1973 and Grievous Angel posthumously in 1974. Both are perfect, and I’ve always thought it made sense to include both on one CD. He wrote or co-wrote all of the songs featured here.

My favorite Gram Parsons tune is “She,” from GP; it’s probably in the top 250 in my mental jukebox. It’s sublime, very visual as he sings the story. It’s the best use of pronouns I’ve ever heard in a song. Plaintive, atmospheric country guitar and pedal steel wrap around Gram’s voice perfectly. Listen to him stretch “hallelujah.” Stops my heart every time.


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Grevious Angel’s “Brass Buttons” is a lovely heartache song. The opening piano, followed by the steel pedal sets the mood. I dare you to listen and not spend the rest of the afternoon singing the chorus: “Brass buttons / Green silks / And silver shoes / Warm evenings / Pale mornings / Bottled blues.” Every line in the song is perfect. “And the sun comes up without her / It just doesn’t know she’s gone” always chokes me up.


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I couldn’t skip one of Gram’s duets with Emmylou Harris, so here’s “Ooh, Las Vegas,” also from Grevious Angel. I love the energy of the song, and their voices blend perfectly. I have to sing along, and I often catch myself slapping the beat on my left outer thigh, as if I’m Emmylou on stage with Gram (a girl needs her fantasies).


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* * * * * *

Squeeze: Argybargy

I’ve been in a very happy place for the last several weeks, so this week’s album needs to be a happy one, one that will get us up and dancing. And few bands make me happier or dancier than Squeeze.

I love British new wave. Elvis Costello, Joe Jackson, and Squeeze ruled my turntable from the late 1970s to the mid-1980s. There was a wild, free, crazy happiness to the music — at a time when I was having that damn good time you get between nineteen and twenty-four. Responsibility, planning for the future, and sleep weren’t necessities — dancing and singing and blowing every spare buck on records and hitting several music clubs each night were the only importances of my life.

Yes, I know. Those still seem to be my priorities, and I’m a long way from that twenty-four cutoff. But at least I’m happy, right? And do you ever get too old for the pure, liberating pleasure that music brings your soul? I think not.

Squeeze — thanks to the songwriting team of lyricist Chris Difford and lead singer Glenn Tilbrook, who wrote the music — was heralded as the next coming of The Beatles. Okay, what semi-great British band hasn’t been called that? But Difford/Tilbrook came damn close. They crafted wonderfully danceable pop tunes with funny, sardonic, catchy lyrics. Tilbrook’s voice soared beautifully, always at his best when the lyrics were a bit snarky. The music is intricate but uncomplicated. And I just want to dance … dance … dance around the room whenever I listen.

Plus, I still have a crush on Glenn Tilbrook. He’s so damn cute.

I went to Europe for the first time in 1984, with my parents and my sister, spending the first several days in London. I was still mad about Squeeze and the adorable Glenn Tilbrook, and I’d read that he deejayed once a week at The Wow Club (or something like that). Mama said if I could find the club, she’d go with me. Sadly, I couldn’t find it. But I’ve always loved that she was willing to go with me.

My love for Squeeze began with Argybargy. Still can’t comprehend that this album was released more than a quarter century ago. I’ve been listening to the album for days, and it still sounds fresh, current. Or maybe I’m as outdated as my record collection.

Argybargy starts what I consider the Squeeze Trilogy — followed by 1981’s East Side Story and Sweets from a Stranger in 1982. I don’t think there are many British power pop albums from that era that can top the fun, the feeling, the brilliance of these albums.

Did you notice that my Argybargy in the upper right is autographed? A happy moment in Cupland, kids.

Here’s the hard part: Which three songs do I link up for you? There are the singles — “Pulling Mussels (From the Shell),” “If I Didn’t Love You,” and “Another Nail in My Heart” — all great three-minute ditties that will make you dance and feel nineteen again. But I need to introduce you to new tracks so that you feel the need to run out at lunch and pick up the CD, right? So, we’re going for a two/one mix.

“If I Didn’t Love You” is a wonderful slice of power pop with the oh-so-true line “If I didn’t love you, I’d hate you.”


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“Pulling Mussels (From the Shell)” is probably the most popular tune from the album (and it was hard to not include “Another Nail in My Heart”). Again, beautiful, catchy pop from the British New Wave era.


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For the lesser known, I’ve chosen “Separate Beds.” I love Glenn Tilbrook’s voice in this tune, as well as the simple beat. Difford and Tilbrook did a good job telling little stories in their songs, and this is one of their more visual ones. I love singing along.


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Yes, Renae, I should have bared all and told the story about the 1985 concert at the Fox … but I’ll save that for Sweets from a Stranger.

* * * * * *

David Bowie: Hunky Dory

I’ve wanted to feature a 1970s-era Bowie album for weeks, but it was hard picking one. How do you single out a Bowie album from that decade? It’s his best period; nearly every album is brilliant. So let’s talk about my personal favorite (after all, isn’t that what I’m doing on Tuesdays anyway?): Hunky Dory, released in December 1971.

Don’t you just feel cool when you listen to a Bowie song? Somehow he elevates us, makes us feel as groovy as he is. Or so that’s how I feel. I’m writing about early Bowie today, but I think he’s been relevant in every decade. Don’t agree? Listen to Heathen, released in 2002; it’s a great album, and he even covers The Pixies. And, yes, I like Tin Machine.

So, how many times have you seen Bowie live? Just four for me — and never during the 1970s, dammit; I wasn’t that cool in high school. I saw him twice in the 1980s, once in the 1990s, and two years ago. The most recent show was at our outdoor amphitheater, with opening act Stereophonics. We were on the ninth row, so close we could barely stand it, so close we had a discussion about his fabulous belt. Bowie still has the sexy charm and androgynous swagger that makes him Bowie. Love him.

Now, you youngsters out there put this album in chronological perspective. T. Rex’s Electric Warrior was released in September, three months before Hunky Dory — but both were recorded that spring. Think how fresh and new that glam pop sounded. The album came out before Ziggy Stardust, Alladin Sane, Diamond Dogs, and Young Americans. The Man Who Sold the World came out earlier in 1971, but it’s more of a rock album.

I love every track on Hunky Dory, but I’m too tired to chat about each one. Let’s hit a few highlights (and I apologize for skipping “Oh! You Pretty Things,” but I’m trying to go with less familiar tunes).

You have to love an album that kicks off with “Changes.” Thirty-five years, and it’s still as fresh as it was the month it was released. I cannot switch the station when it’s playing, and I must sit in the car, singing and baying along at the top of my lungs, until it ends. I make others “break down and cry” when they hear me sing along. (And, yes, I know I’m referencing a non-Hunky Dory song.)

“Kooks” is a fun, loving family song, fitting for Bowie and Angela to sing to then-named Zowie: I bought you a pair of shoes / A trumpet you can blow / And a book of rules / On what to say to people when they pick on you / Cause if you stay with us / You’re gonna be pretty kookie too. If I’d had a child, this would have been one of her lullabies, with “Green Grows the Rushes” and “Pink Moon.”


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“Queen Bitch,” on the other hand, has that Velvet Underground sound. And you can dance to it! This may be my favorite track on the album.


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Who knew when he recorded “Andy Warhol” that he’d play his friend 25 years later in Basquiat? And he nailed that portrayal.


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Hunky Dory is great fun. If you love Bowie's music and don't have this disc, hit your local CD shop this week.

* * * * * *

Johnny Cash: American Recordings

I’m a Southern girl, with roots that go way back. My paternal grandmother’s family can be traced back to James Oglethorpe and the founding of Georgia — not quite the prestige of the Plymouth Rock gang, though, as our fledgling state was populated by Brits from debtor’s prison (and I’m keeping that family tradition alive to this day). Being an umpteenth-generation Southerner means I love grits and fried chicken and Co-Cola and fried okra and watermelon and fried peach pies. And country music.

Not this current crop of country music, though. For the most part, I find most country pop bland and lifeless, adult contemporary with a twang. Nah, I’m a purist, a traditionalist. George and Tammy. Waylon and Willie. Loretta and Conway. Merle and Dolly. Dwight Yoakum and Randy Travis.

And Johnny Cash. I grew up listening to and loving his songs: “Ring of Fire” and “I Walk the Line,” “I Still Miss Someone” and “Folsom Prison Blues,” Johnny and Bob Dylan’s “Girl from the North Country.” And, of course, his duets with June Carter Cash, especially “It Ain’t Me, Babe,” “Jackson,” and “If I Were a Carpenter.”

My sister once spotted June Carter Cash in an airport restroom. June, of course, was talkingtalkingtalking to everyone milling around the sinks. Sister hurriedly washed her hands, hoping for a glance at the Man in Black. There he was, Johnny Cash, standing right outside the ladies’ room door … holding June’s purse.

Johnny’s career in the late 1960s and 1970s suffered the same indignities as Elvis’: over-produced schlock. And so he disappeared off my music radar for many years. I saw Johnny and June in concert during the early 1990s, and they were wonderful. June would grab the mic and talktalktalk, and then they’d sing one great song after another. I regret that I saw Johnny Cash just once in concert.

And then 1994 rolled around.

One of the bennies of working in a bookstore is the advance reader — a copy of upcoming book that publishers send out, in the hopes that booksellers will read the book, fall in love with it, recommend it to customers. Although our bookstore did not sell CDs, we received a few advance albums one day. Being the only true Southerner in our bunch, the store manager tossed me American Recordings. I had a lifelong history Johnny Cash, the cover photograph was cool, I was curious what Rick Rubin would do with him, so I played the CD right then. And halfway through the first song I was hooked. Thrilled. Dancing and twirling and squealing with excitement (I do that when an album knocks off my nonexistent socks). That began a weeklong listening obsession and a lifelong love affair wih the album.

Rick Rubin was best known for his Def Jam and Def American labels, his work with Run-DMC and Public Enemy, Ret Hot Chili Peppers and thrasher metal bands — and he producing an album for a country music legend. The two set up shop in Johnny’s living room and recorded tons of songs — stripped-down, just Johnny and his guitar. This album now defines the Americana genre.

Rubin encouraged Cash to sing anything he wanted, and the covers in the series are remarkable. American Recordings includes Leonard Cohen’s “Bird on a Wire” and Nick Lowe’s “The Beast in Me,” Kris Kristofferson’s “Why Me Lord” and Loudon Wainwright’s “The Man Who Couldn’t Cry.” Tom Waits wrote “Down There by the Train” and Glenn Danzig wrote “Thirteen” for Johnny to record on this album. And here they’re all classic Cash.


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The album begins with a new version of “Delia’s Gone” (Johnny originally recorded it in the early sixties). How can you not be hooked by a song with lyrics such as If I hadn't have shot poor Delia I'd have had her for my wife and She was low down and trifling / And she was cold and mean / Kind of evil make me want to / Grab my sub machine

Why did Johnny record it again? As he said after the album came out: “The other is the new lyrics to 'Delia's Gone,' which is a really old traditional song. I cut it before, but this is a newer version. I couldn't remember enough verses of the old one to sing it, so I wrote some new ones. I sing that one a lot in concert, as fans are always asking for it, so I thought I'd cut a new version and try to get it before a new audience.”


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Nick Lowe’s “The Beast in Me” is a near-perfect song, one that seeps down to my marrow every time I hear it. Johnny Cash (Nick's one-time stepfather-in-law) makes it his own. Lowe’s version is melancholic and questioning, while the Cash cover has a resigned, world-weary, beaten-down quality. As I grow older, I find myself preferring Johnny’s version … and I never thought I’d say that. Old age is a bitch, isn’t it?


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As mentioned above, Tom Waits wrote “Down There by the Train” for Cash to record for American Recordings. He has performed the tune in concert, but had not included a version on recent releases … until now. His version will be included on his upcoming three-record set, Orphans, to be released November 21.

American Recordings kicked off a new, much-needed movement among the greats. Since Johnny and Rick recorded these now-Americana classics, we’ve heard back-to-roots brilliance among the legends, such as Loretta Lynn’s Van Lear Rose (produced by Jack White), and two 2006 releases I love: Kris Kristofferson’s This Old Road and Jessi Colter’s Out of the Ashes, both produced by Don Was. I hope the trend continues; can’t wait to hear what may be coming from George Jones and Merle Haggard.


Johnny Cash Must-haves

• Johnny Cash’s entire American Recordings series is amazing. I can’t pick a favorite among the five discs. If you like the selections I’ve included here, you’ll probably enjoy any of the discs. Will & Ben's Record Room has an excellent review of American V: A Hundred Highways on that must-read blog.
• If you want a greatest hits disc, the best is The Essential Johnny Cash. It’s a comprehensive two-disc set, and includes his best duets with June.
• If you’re a member of eMusic, I highly recommend The Complete Sun Singles — Volume 1 and Volume 2.
• And don’t forget June Carter Cash — after all, she co-wrote “Ring of Fire.” I love Wildwood Flower, her final album, which she recorded at Mother Maybelle’s home.

* * * * * *

R.E.M.: Reveal

Yesterday marked the unofficial end of summer, and summer songs and beach books are fading away until Memorial Day. Maybe I’m a day late, but I’m squeezing in my favorite beach album while it’s still sunny and warm: R.E.M.’s (grossly overlooked) Reveal.

Is Reveal my favorite R.E.M. album? No, it’s probably fifth or sixth from the top of that list. But it’s a brilliant album — one that didn’t receive the attention it deserved, at least here in the U.S. — and its feel is perfect for this moment onthe calendar.

Released in 2001, Reveal is an album of bewitching, atmospheric pop songs and introspective, wistful ballads. It’s the album I want to listen to when the windows are open and a breeze floats through the room. When I’m on the porch, late at night, just me and a bottle of wine. When I’m driving late at night, the sunroof open, the windows down, the road empty. It takes me other places, across the world and deep inside myself.


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I love pomegranate afternoons. And "She Just Wants to Be." When I listen to the song, I wonder when Michael Stipe picked my brain for the lyrics. Backed by Peter’s lonely, sad guitar, it’s heartbreakingly close to my internal self. (In fact, Dan uses it as my ringtone on his cell phone.) And Peter’s opening and closing strums resonate to my core. (A bit of purple prose, yes, but that's how it feels.)


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Lovely laziness permeates “Beat a Drum.” Every time I listen I feel an ocean breeze on my arm. And what a divine rhyme in A bluejay hectors from the felled Catalpa tree / Doctorate in science and a theologians dream / The dragonflies are trying to lecture me / The seahorses as if we were in the sea. I love the cadence of “from the felled Catalpa tree.”


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Peter Buck and Mike Mills have long raved about The Beach Boys, and the Wilsons’ influence can be heard all over Reveal. So don’t tell me you listened to “Summer Turns to High” and didn’t think of “In My Room.” A wonderful homage to one of my favorite Beach Boys tunes.



Was there a more fun pop song released in 2001 than “Imitation of Life”? I just checked the Billboard charts — Train? Jennifer Lopez? I don’t think so. Alicia Keys is good, but not as much fun as this. And you gotta love Mr. Buck and his monkey. Captivating video, catchy tune.

I haven't been fair to Mike Mills in these R.E.M. posts. Music critics (and Warren Zevon) have called him R.E.M.'s secret weapon. He can play nearly every instrument, and his harmonies take Stipe's vocals to a different place. I promise to give him more raves in the next column.

Really, it’s hard not to rave about each tune on this album. Song for song, Reveal is a dazzling album, summer or winter.

* * * * * *

Warren Zevon: Excitable Boy

Several friends have asked why I have yet to feature a Warren Zevon album in my Tuesday album series. I’m a bit mystified myself. Zevon is one of the great music loves of my life, just a couple of notches below R.E.M. His songs have struck a chord in me for nearly thirty years. And I miss having him on this earth.

I was introduced to Warren Zevon my freshman year in college, soon after Excitable Boy was released in January 1978. My roommate was dating this cool grad student, Tom, who brought over the album and insisted that I listen to both sides three times straight. I rarely rebuff cool guys who force music on me, so it went on the turntable that minute. And I fell head over ears in love. The tracks were funny and alive, heartbreaking and honest. He rocked. He crooned. His voice was evocative, full of feeling and humor and sarcasm. I’ve loved Warren since that winter evening.

Warren Zevon was lumped with the 1970s Southern California sound — Eagles, Jackson Browne (who produced this and his previous album), Linda Ronstadt. Other than his locale and the appearances by those folks on his albums, I never saw the connection. Totally different vibe. Or maybe it’s because I love his music, and the rest of those SoCals generally bore me.

He was (and, damn, I hate referring to him in the past tense) a brilliant lyricist. Very literary. His play on words, his unexpected rhymes, his wonderful storytelling (do you know how hard it is to write an entire story in twenty lines?) were amazing. He was definitely an original.

I saw Warren Zevon in concert probably ten times. He was a brilliant performer who understood and enjoyed his audience. He always played a good mix of his fans’ favorites and his new stuff. He was quite the charmer onstage, too. I always stood right up front, and he’d often wink and asked how I liked this song or that one. I’d always giggle and blush; I think he enjoyed that.

Have I mentioned I once kissed Warren Zevon?

And now to the album.

Excitable Boy is best known for “Werewolves of London.” I love the song. It’s witty and weird, clever and catchy. But it makes me sad that it’s the only song most people know from Zevon’s oeuvre. His catalog is rich with beautiful ballads and kick-out-the-jams rockers. Not many can pull of cynical and sincere, but Warren could. You “Werewolves”-only folks are missing out on some musical treasures.

I met a cute guy once at his own party. Bit of spark on both sides. As is my wont, I checked out his CD collection to see whether or not he was worth my time. I complimented him on owning Excitable Boy. He responded that he owned it just for “Werewolves of London,” that the rest of the album was crap and littered with songs about Vietnam. I did not leave my number on his fridge.

“Werewolves” isn’t the weirdest tune on the album. The title track is. Sick, twisted, funny. And it still makes me laugh, even after thousands of listens. Who doesn’t love a pop tune about a psychotic killer? Well, he’s just an excitable boy. I want to rub a pot roast all over my chest one day.


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“Accidentally Like a Martyr” is the perfect anthem for loneliness. It’s always at the top of my break-up playlist (yes, I can be quite the Douglas Sirk queen post-dump). Heartbreaking lyrics, accompanied by a haunting piano. The lines Never thought I’d ever be so lonely / After such a long, long time / Time out of mind always punches me in the gut.


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“Lawyers, Guns, and Money” is the theme song for the troublemaker in all of us, supposedly penned after a night of partying in Mexico. Raucous rock beat, raucous story. Who doesn't love this song? Hank Williams Jr. did a decent cover a few years ago.


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The rest of the album (and I feel like I’m giving them short shrift; all but one or two are glorious):

“Johnny Strikes up the Band”: A great tune to open an album, it's a wonderful ditty that, for me, captures the excitement before a concert.

“Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner”: Another great story from Warren. I’ve always heard that “Roland” was written about a mercenary Zevon and his then-wife met in Europe in the mid-1970s. While Googling about this album, I read several sites stating it was Warren’s metaphor for the Western interference in the Congo in the 1960s. I can’t confirm either … but it’s a great story-in-a-song.

“Night Time in the Switching Yard”: The only track I’ve never been wild about. It sounds dated, very seventies to me. And it’s the only track on the album that Warren didn’t write. Connection?

“Veracruz”: A beautiful historical ballad, with a Spanish verse that adds flare.

“Tenderness on the Block”: Good pop tune (cowritten with Jackson Browne) about letting your little girl grow up. Shawn Colvin covered it in 1992.

There will be at least three more Zevon albums covered on Tuesdays. If you’re a fan, check back regularly. If you’re not familiar with him, I hope the selections I’ve included here leave you wanting more and send you to the CD store.

Postscript: Dave Marsh wrote a good article about Zevon in the March 9, 1978, issue of Rolling Stone. It’s worth a read to get a feel for Zevon at that time.

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