24: Peaceful

In 1988 I was working, among other jobs, at a bar/restaurant in Taos, New Mexico. One day, before the bar opened, I had a record on the stereo called Secrets Of The Beehive, which will be the second listen for this post, so I’m not going to go into further detail now. One of the waitstaff, approached me to mention that if I liked this record, I’d probably like one called Spirit Of Eden, by the band Talk Talk. Now, I knew about Talk Talk. In 1982 they had released an absolute stinker of a track called Talk Talk. This was the worst of 80’s music. So I scoffed at the notion that I would like an album by them, and dismissed the concept. Sometime later, I went to my other job as a late night DJ on the local radio station. While looking through the discards pile - records received by the station that would never be played, and thus offered to the staff to take home - I saw the Spirit Of Eden album. So, being the generous (and compulsive) soul that I am, I took it home and listened to it. It has been one of my absolute favorite albums, bar none, ever since. The only time I ever question it’s status is when I listen to the follow up album Laughing Stock, (which led to the breakup of the band) or the solo album by the groups singer, Mark Hollis, which I believe I’ve mentioned in passing. This is a trilogy of unrepentant quiet perfection. No hyperbole. Just the facts.

So, this morning, I listened to Spirit Of Eden. It’s a short 6 track album. There is no cohesive song structure. No hit single. (Talk Talk was - I later learned - coming off of a massive hit called Life's What You Make It, which is actually a pretty good tune, and shows the transitional phase between a pop band and a band of serious artists.) So imagine the record label, hoping to get another smash hit, receiving Spirit…, which they’d probably paid pretty good money in advance for. What do you do? Well, apparently what you do is release it with no fanfare, drop the band and move on. (Except that this album has now been reissued over 70 times around the world, and is fairly well acknowledged to be a masterwork - so… regrets? I don’t know. Probably not the same regrets as Dick Rowe has.) Spirit is an album that was meant to be listened to in front of flickering lights or in the dark. For those of you who are going to venture to listen to the album linked above, I suggest headphones and an uninterrupted, peaceful space. This is not, despite being generally quiet (except when it’s not) background music. It’s transportive. Let it do so to you. Be receptive to the space, but also to the discordant guitar and the bracing harmonica. When there is a beat, let it move you. It happens to me that way every time I listen - I’m amazed. And I’m forever grateful to the person who persuaded me to listen.

Ultimately, it’s quite interesting to me at this point, that David Sylvian’s Secrets of the Beehive album, which is the record that prompted my discovery of Talk Talk, is one that I’ve not listened to in about twenty years. I listen to Talk Talk quite regularly. Secrets, which is undeniably an innovative album - by an innovative artist - feels quite forced and inorganic. Again, that’s odd, because from a purely instrumental standpoint, it’s as organic as can be. Strings, acoustic guitar (augmented by some textural guitar additions by the great David Torn and brass work by Mark Isham) are the primary instruments here to support Mr. Sylvians deep bass vocals and piano. And yet, it feels totally forced. Understanding that this is a lyrics based album - and that the music came after the poetry helps the listener to grasp what’s going on here, but that doesn’t make the album hold long term weight. Sylvians vocals feel totally affected, and the lyrics (find me another song with the word inexorably in it, if you will) are really quite pretentious. And yet, with all that, it was a calming 40 minutes under the lights. The musicians are top notch and the production is superb. For its time it was an innovative album. Sylvian used to front the band Japan, which is where I first heard him. Like with many lead vocalists and front men who go on to solo projects, the work of the rest of the band is often far more interesting to me. The other three members of the band, on break-up, continued to play together and released a string of good albums. In particular, the bass player, Mick Karn, morphed into one of the world's most innovative players before his untimely death from cancer.

Multi-instrumentalist Steven Wilson has been the force behind much of my favorite music for the last twenty years. Next post will feature a timeline of his wildly diverse catalog. He’s played with the members of Japan in a solo project of theirs called JBK, and has used them as backup musicians and full band members on some of his own projects. Today we’re keeping with the mood of the previous albums in this post however, and listening to a later album by one of his projects called No-Man. Together We’re Stranger is an outstanding album, straddling the line between atmospheric textures and acoustic guitar driven pop, with nary a percussive beat to be found. I don’t bandy this term around loosely - but this is a masterpiece of modern composition and playing. Listen to the subtle additions of instrumentation on the side-long suite (tracks 1-4). With very little change in tempo or volume, the tension in the music is gradually increased by the addition of instrumentation until there is a final release - without bravado, but with an almost avant-garde acoustic exercise. I urge any potential listeners to turn out the lights, slap on the headphones and let this intricate music transport you where it will. Side two, if you can consider it that way, is a more song-driven cycle showing off the amazing pop craftsmanship that Wilson and partner in this outing, singer Tim Bowness, have developed. in particular, listen to the track Back When You Were Beautiful. Starting as an acoustic guitar and vocal exercise, and morphing into a choral moment with subtle banjo and textural guitar building into a quiet end that satisfies without any real crescendo at all.

Today, after a rather trying infusion process yesterday, I have a splitting headache, and the lights and music (however calming it is) did not suit well. I’m hopeful that a couple of Tylenol will cure my ills. Last post I mentioned that the phlebotomists at the infusion center had been having increasing difficulty finding workable veins. Yesterday, the nurse got the vein in the crook of my arm on the first try. An auspicious start! Usually, they get the needle in a good 45 minutes before the infusion begins - and yesterday was no different. The meds came up from the pharmacy in fairly short order, and I thought that it might be smooth sailing. However, as soon as the meds started to flow into my arm, I became aware of a never before experienced pain. I gave it a few minutes to settle but it only got worse. I called the nurse over, and she rolled up my sleeve to look. There was a huge swelling at the infusion point. At least golf-ball sized. Apparently, the needle had popped out of my easily found vein, and the medication was just entering my body through the hole in the tissue, and thus causing both pain and swelling. She stopped the flow and removed the needle. She found a vein on the other side, and was successful with her first attempt again. This time the infusion proceeded as normal. They wrapped my poor arm in cold and then hot compresses to assist with the absorption of the errant medication, which helped reduce the swelling and pain. So that sucked.

I’ve started communicating with a reader whose wife has just been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and is really struggling with that. I remember how hard the first few months were for us - and so I ask you to keep them in your thoughts as well.

And finally for today, I quite liked the name Denali, and the respect it gave to the indigenous cultures of that region. But while that simple name change, and other executive actions like the renaming of the Gulf Of Mexico, and idiotic threats like the annexation of Canada and Greenland and seizure of the Panama Canal may seem acutely and needlessly puerile, rest assured that they are mere cover for the more nefarious and often cruel agenda that is already being enacted and will surely continue. The oligarchs have taken over the asylum friends, and for now, there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. Let’s hope the other party - who are a mess - get their shit together and find a mission that is palatable to the American people inside the next two years.

***BREAKING NEWS***

Even though it doesn’t fit here exactly I would be remiss if I did not pay homage to the last surviving member of one of the greatest American bands of all time despite their being mostly Canadian - oooh. Perhaps that’s why 45/47 wants to annex Canada. To honor The Band. In that case, I support it! But ONLY in that case (and not really). Garth Hudson, who passed on the 21st at 87 years old, was the last surviving member of The Band, who got their break supporting Bob Dylan on his electric tours, and later produced a string of great albums on their own. Their second album, simply called The Band (aka The Brown Album) could easily be a greatest hits album - but it wasn’t. It was just a great album. I’ve known and loved this record since I was 7 years old.

This is an album that could have easily been a part of my tribute to the music of the southern part of America a few weeks ago, except for the fact that there is no slide guitar featured. But the plain fact is that this album encapsulates the music of the south perhaps better than none before it. Filled with stringed bass, washboard, and blown jug, this has the trappings of a “hillbilly” album, and should rightfully have no place on the “greatest rock albums of all time” list - and yet it does. That’s the mark of true innovation. I challenge you to say you’ve never heard these songs before. They are a staple of radio - which normally isn’t my cuppa tea - and completely deserving of all accolades. I’m not a Band historian. I do know they ended quite badly and to this day, there are people who will argue about who’s fault it was. But back on this early album, they were a completely cohesive unit. There is no star here - just the music. There is no standout performance - just the great songs that stood up really well under the focused listening that my light therapy requires. In many ways, this is what all bands should aspire to, and this one hit the heights for a brief time before imploding under the weight of drugs and ego. I’m going to end this tribute with a clip that ironically has very little of Garth Hudson in it. This brings it all around though. The Band, along with the Staple Singers, performing The Weight from the wonderful documentary The Last Waltz. If that doesn’t solidify the southern heritage claim, then nothing will.

Finally for this section, Wendy and I (along with some friends) had the privilege to see the wonderful Amy Helm live a month or so ago. Amy, of course, is the daughter of The Band’s drummer and vocalist Levon Helm. Seek out her shows and go see her and support this wonderful music. And RIP to Garth, and RIP to one of the greatest bands that America (and its 51st state, Canada) has ever produced.

***RETURN TO PREVIOUSLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING***

The early 90’s were a fruitful time for the great CMP label - a jazz (mostly) label out of Germany. One of the best things they did was give guitarist/producer David Torn some rope to play with. He released a slew of great stuff through them. Jason's Cord, by the hitherto unknown Andy Rinehart was one such release. Joining Torn and Rinehart on this rock vocal album were the exceptional bass player Mick Karn (ex-of Japan, mentioned above) and Kurt Wortman on percussion. This quartet made one of the most engaging and forward thinking pop albums of the era.

This album is what happens when truly innovative players (which Torn, Karn and Wortman surely are) have nothing to prove. There is no overplaying here, and yet there is very little restraint either. But the general tone of this record is one of pure cohesion. There are shiver-inducing moments for me here - especially on the track Stone Diamond and some of the most off-kilter beats put on record. But this is a pop record through and through. It is anchored by strong songwriting, pleasant vocals and easy piano. In my imagination this is what happens when a competent singer-songwriter decides to hand over his project of songs to the most avant of players, who happen to also be remarkably sensitive and decide to keep their most impulsive instincts in check. The bass playing and guitar work (mostly fills and textures) are otherworldly, and Rinehart’s accordion(!) fits in quite well with the overall tenor of the music. This was an excellent listen under the lights, and my brain is as much at peace as it can be in these troubled times.

Good news to end this with - my authorization for the next series of Leqembi infusions was approved by my insurance (after being initially declined), so it looks like I’m going to get to continue on that program, which I hope is continuing to help.

Thanks for reading (and listening),

Dy