Note: To see what Shuffleathon 2008 was about,see here.

This was a very difficult piece to begin writing.

 

Usually, when I need or want to write something, I think about it a while and then I sit down and write it. I can write about things I never even thought about before researching them for a piece. I can write about things I don't WANT to write about, like those damn reflective essays Burbank likes to assign (and which are always useful). I can even write fairly easily about the time I saw my grandma's tits even though I trytryTRY not to ever, ever remember that.

 

But for this piece I had a definite and longstanding pattern of avoidance and that really got to bugging me, mainly because I was still doing it after I recognized it. Hell, I continued doing it even after I decided to write about it.  What was that about?

 

I mean, a day without music doesn't happen very often to me. One wall of my living room is devoted to CD racks, and even when – as now- my player is on the fritz, I have Gregory, my Cowon iAudio7 (named for Pope Gregory I, whose contribution to the spread of music was considerable to say the least). There is always something to listen to – piles and piles of stuff to listen to. I thought that Shuffleathon was a good idea, I was pleased as punch to get a post from England  (hey, who was that? All I have is an e-mail address, as I've long since lost the envelope.) and was impressed with the nifty origami card stock thingie that the disc was placed in, although it made the list a bit challenging to read as it was spread about the perimeter of the unfolded sheet. It listed only a couple bands that I've heard of, and none that I had actually listened to. "Cool," I thought, "I can learn about some new bands."

 

Then it languished. And languished. And languished on. Meanwhile, I listened to a hundred+ bootlegs over the course of a semester. With so much music at my beck and call (at time of this writing, I still have well over 50 burned discs awaiting a spin and 182 folders of mp3s waiting to be loaded onto Gregory, each representing a concert – and high multiples of those numbers in discs and folders already listened to) it is easy for something to be lost in the tide. On the other hand, how difficult is it for me to put something on TOP of the stack? Shouldn't break an arm.

 

After several reminders, I sat down to listen to it and take notes about what I heard (and I'd sure like to know where THOSE walked off to!). I did just that and liked, for the most part, what I heard. I kept thinking about other things I should be doing, though. After about six songs, I stopped it and went on to something else. I needed to, and that bugged me even as I did it.

 

I remember the excitement that greeted a new LP in my youth. I would sit and give it most of my attention, reserving just a little for the cover art, the inner sleeve, the notes, any and all information that came as part of the package. Then, if I liked it I would do this over and over again. I could easily memorize albums, and become familiar with every detail of the packaging. I was the guy who always knew who was in the band and what they played, who produced it, who guested even to the tiny details like Toni Tenille's spoken role in Pink Floyd's The Wall (Wanna take a bath?), and who made the cover art (usually Hipgnosis).

 

I'm not really certain when that ended. Did it end when the cover art became postage-stamp sized, or because I got older and have more stuff to do? Gregory helps me listen to a lot more music because I can have the music with me when I'm DOING things, which, it seems, is how I always listen anymore. But I wasn't busy when I tried to listen to this disc, just restless. Did I simply outgrow the desire to pay that much attention to a disc, or is it that there isn't as much these days to become enrapt in? Is it because the albums themselves grew longer as the format shifted? Was it the result of the great musical deluge?

 

The deluge started when I joined the BMG music club and designed a way to get loads and loads of CDs at their cheapest price, "free" (which comes to approx. $2.50 per disc). I stocked the blues and jazz collection up quite a bit, but didn't sit and absorb anymore. I had begun school part time and worked full time, and listened to discs mainly in my car. Then the concert deluge began. For a long time, I gathered as much as I could, figuring that the opportunity would be brief. Two of my favorite sites, in fact, were shut down within a few months of my getting into it even though they had policies against sharing commercially available material. I had to get what I could while the getting was good, I thought. So I did. Months turned into years, and I slowly realized that even if this scene disappeared overnight I had enough to last a lifetime, so I've slowed down considerably. I can't stop completely, of course – Jeff Beck still tours, after all. Still, a new acquisition doesn't have the emotional impact it did when I had to save my sheckels for weeks to buy something.

 

So, having realized the problem, I addressed it by converting the disc to mp3 and loading it into Gregory. And there it languished. And thus I learned a couple more things about how I've changed.

 

First, I don't really think about individual songs that much anymore. While buying individual tunes online has, for most people, ushered in a new era for the single, I tend to listen mostly to concerts and see things in terms of entire performances. Just as I used to say "That was a good album" I will now say "That was a good show." This happens even more when I listen to several shows from the same tour, which will frequently have the same or similar setlists. I listen to it as a performance, and judge it as a performance, not a collection of songs. It is the instrumentation that really matters – what the musicians can do in the moment. For instance, I haven't listened to the studio version of Stairway to Heaven in over a decade, and I don't want to. As part of a Led Zeppelin concert, however, I can listen to it over and over (I've picked up a lot of 1980 Zep shows lately) and always hear it freshly when I do, because it isn't Stairway to Heaven as much as it is part of a Zep show. Does that make sense?

 

Secondly, I pick what show I'm going to listen to according to my mood. Am I in a Pink Floyd mood, or would a Dexter Gordon show suit me better at the moment? If Floyd, am I in the mellow, mysterious mood good for a 1970 show or would the harder, more cynical edge of the 1977 shows be better? Mix discs, by nature, usually try to express a flow from one mood to another, encompassing several. But I'm never in SEVERAL moods at once. I've grown more accustomed to the thematic thread that will run through a performance most of the time.

 

Still I managed to listen to it all while on campus, and found it to be an enjoyable listen. Still, I didn't write, mainly because of finals. After finals, I found that I still didn't have notes for each song, which seemed requisite, so I really had to listen to it over again. There we have another change – I realize now that rarely do I listen to anything twice in a year. If you had over 200 things ready to listen to at any given time, how often would you listen to the same thing? I consider, for example, Led Zep's June 18 1980 show in Cologne to be different from their June 21 1980 performance in Rotterdam despite the identical setlist. The solos aren't exactly the same, the energy isn't exactly the same, and so it isn't the same to me. It's hard to listen to ANYTHING again when there are a couple hundred things awaiting their first listen. Especially if you have to sit there and pay complete attention to it.

 

Ultimately, the music and I reached a compromise. I listened once again and took notes while writing all of this. You'll see them below. Taken as a whole, I enjoy this disc, even though my tastes for years have been running more toward blues, jazz, and instrumental jams – I almost never pay attention to lyrics anymore, except (as in this instance) when I really try to (ever try paying attention to lyrics while you write? Not the easiest thing I've attempted so far today). I've decided, over the years, that nothing can kill a great tune faster than stupid or trite lyrics (Elton John's Rocket Man being my favorite example). Given that, my notes below may seem incomplete or unfair. Music, like any other interpretive art, unfolds itself to me slowly, however, and many times I don't know how much I like a new song for quite awhile, and the music itself better be interesting enough to get us there. The sound of it comes first in all instances. That said, I like the feel of this disc, I like the way it flows from one feel to the next, and I can genuinely respect the thought that was obviously put into it. There are a couple bands here that I will definitely try to find more of – and I'll be interested to see what they can do live, naturally. Any time I learn something new, I like.

 

More important, though, is the way it made me look at things. Sure, it took a long time to get into it, but that time, I see now, was an essential part of the journey. This disc didn't just turn me on to Death Cab for Cutie (whom I had hard of before, but ignored, frankly, because of their name) – this made me actually spend considerable time in introspective analysis about how I listen to music, and how the change in how I treat music reflects greater changes in my life and my personality. In that, this may be one of the most important discs I have received in my adult life.

 

I think I'll keep it on Gregory for a while. That Rotterdam show should be so lucky.

1) Quote from TV or something..... all the pieces matter, obviously her intended approach to making the disc.

2) Fuse - Joe Henry. Mellow, bluesy, kind of just flows through me.

3) Strawberry Letter 23 - Shuggie Otis. A little faster, kind of Beatle-ish. Catchy tune. Repetitious bit at the end that could be much shorter. What's a Shuggie?

4) Angel - Massive Attack. I like this. Starts really moody and builds to greater intensity, going back and forth. This would be a great Chicago-expressway-in-the-middle-of -the-night song. The type of song that should never be heard in adequate lighting.

5) I Will Possess Your Heart - Death Cab for Cutie. Great groove, wonderful bass line. Reminds me of New Order in a way. I don't know who plays bass for this band but the style evokes Sara Lee, formerly of Fripp's League of Gentlemen and the B-52s. Would work great as a mood piece even without the vocals. In fact, I would probably prefer it as an instrumental. It's a shame more artists aren't brave enough to do that. Still, it's my favorite from this collection.

6) A & E - Goldfrapp. I don't know the name, but the voice sounds familiar. Is this because I've heard them before, or because so many female vocalists these days are going for that breathless, wispy sound? Anyway, I'm thinking of a pharmaceutical commercial because they often use this kind of tune with these kind of vocals. Mind you, I don't DISLIKE it, but I'm not intrigued.

7) Station Approach- Elbow. I almost didn't notice the song had changed, as I am writing while I listen. This shows how well one song leads into another on this disk.

8) Driving Away from Home - It's Immaterial. Kind of rockabilly sounding, a nice little romp with a haunting echo to the vocals.

9) Faron Young - Prefab Sprout. I remember this name from WXRT long ago. The flow remains steady. This has the rockabilly undercurrent but moves more into pop territory.

10) Apres Ski- Cinerama. Pop. It doesn't piss me off, but doesn't interest me, either. Kind of like the Cure when they aren't trying.

11) Mardy Bum - Arctic Monkeys. I don't know what this sounds like, which is odd because it doesn't sound outstandingly original. One of the few attempts at soloing on this disc, but not much.

12) The Opposite of Hallelujah - Jens Lekman. More interesting. Quite pop-ish, yet using an interesting mix of piano, strings, and bells. Brain-pop. Toes definitely tapping.

13) When the Morning Comes - Lloyd & Michael. Suzanne Vega's more depressing twin? Still, the minimalist tune is somewhat entrancing, especially the solo that reminds me of that Playskool xylophone I had as a tot. I like when instumentalists think outside of the box. The sound perfectly fits the simple, childlike melody and lyrics.

14) This track wasn't listed. Shades of the Kingston Trio! Their sound somewhat updated for the new century, but still evoking the old folksy-railroad sound of the early 60s.

15)I just realized that this is track 15 on the disc but it is obviously "Ghosts" by Laura Marling, which is listed as #14. This is obvious because the chick just sang the word "ghosts" about ten times in the past five seconds.

16)Young Folks - Peter, Bjorn, & John. Similar in mood to the Death Cab song, so I liked it right away. Intriguing bass groove, and I like the whistling for the melody where many others would have used guitar or synth.

17) Time to Pretend - MGMT. I can't decide on this one. None of the elements are especially interesting. The rhythm is old, the meaning is not exactly new (lost childhood innocence) and the weird sounds I can remember being used by Gabriel-era Genesis. Still, it seems to work as they've put it together, and makes quite a listenable song.

18) Love You, Love You - Yachts. Put Blondie's keyboardist into a Devo song, and this is what you get.

19) Another Girl, Another Planet - The Only Ones. Quirky pop. Strong Robyn Hitchcock influence, and a good guitar solo - the only one I've really noticed on this collection.

20) Mr. November - The National. Rock. Not much to say, really. It was there.

21) Endcap, similar to track 1. Yeah, the bitch is happy.