Paul Simon's "The Afterlife"

On Sunday I did the usual May 2-4 routine and rode out to Wilfrid and back, a 23 km round trip that took me just over an hour.

This was in the morning, shortly before church, and I was mulling over the nature of so-called worship music, and what it is meant to achieve. Ignoring, if I can, the blunt presumption of Divine Proscription (“We sing this stuff because God tells us to”) it seems to me that when worship music works it achieves a temporary recalibration of the interior monologue. Frequent strategies include cataloging differences (God is big; we are small, God is Holy; we are sinners, etc.) and manipulations of the language of adoration (“You are holy and I bow before you”) etc. Neither strategy has reached the point of absolute bankruptcy with me, but they’re both scraping the bottom of the account.

I wonder if this isn’t an unfortunate side-effect that comes with Protestantism? So much of the Protestant hymnal — from the trenchant works of Fanny Crosby to the sentimental schmutz of mega-church worship bands — hammers home again and again what precious little orthodoxy the Protestant movement has cobbled together. Sola Scriptura is a fine motivation, but the trouble is we’re all deeply divided about which Scriptura to get Sola over, except, “While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” To be sure, there is a great deal you can do with that. But I think it is also safe to say that, after 2000 years, there is only so much you can do with that.

Anyway, the most recent song to silence and recalibrate my interior monologue is Paul Simon’s “The Afterlife,” from the recent album So Beautiful or So What? Especially when heard in album sequence, it is a deeply moving work. After Simon expresses in “Getting Ready For Christmas Day” the common wistfulness that, following this life, somehow all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well (“I could tell my Mom and Dad that the things we never had/Never mattered we were always okay”) he goes on to paint a humorous picture of just what a banal sort of Purgatory awaits (“You’ve gotta fill out a form first; And then you wait in the line”).

The first two verses give us a dead narrator who's still an incorrigible smart-ass trying to figure out how to get ahead, but by the third verse Simon bluntly assesses the human situation:

Well it seems like our fate to suffer and wait for the knowledge we seek.

This is the crux of so much of my own religious frustration. I'm impatient with humanity, I'm impatient with myself, I'm impatient with God — and nobody in this configuration seems to be in any hurry to help us out of the mess we're in. Don't expect me to reach for my internal “reset” button if I can't just somehow out and say it.

By fourth verse Simon's narrator finally gets his way. As he slowly climbs the cosmic ladder to God, all the petty, stupid, banal words and strictures that brought frustration to his life are transformed into speaking-in-tongues nonsense that we recognize from the days of transistor radios.

Lord, is it Be-boppa-lula/Or, Oh Poppa-do?

So that was the in-shower chorus that followed my ride. And it might not be a hymn for the ages, but “The Afterlife” was enough to once again nudge me toward the shabby queue at the Communion Rail.

Lyrics for "The Afterlife."

Major Tom as rendered by Shiny Toy Guns

The other night as I dozed before the television set, I was suddenly struck with longing. I woke up, shook my head and realized what had hit me: some car company was employing a clever remake of Peter Schilling's Major Tom.

A little history: Peter Schilling was a contemporary of Nena's, both of whose management capitalized on that brief, surreal window in the 80s when "the New Wave" received a second, larger shot at life via video. "Major Tom" was Schilling's international hit, a song of desire, desolation and alienation (and, possibly, adultery and substance abuse) that was nearly undone by a goofy video.

It's a little unnerving to see kids these days take a shine to music I've almost completely forgotten, even though I once laced up my ALDO certified Italian shoes to dance to it. Unnerving, but also invigorating. I think Shiny Toy Guns gets the hunger at the core of "Major Tom." I won't be buying the car attached to the song, but I don't mind visiting their site and offering some scant info to get the "free" download. This is commercialism I can buy into.

"Mambo Italiano" -- Rosemary Clooney

What a gorgeous woman.



"Mambo Italiano" was today's randomizer pick, a peppy little novelty song that owes all its sexy snap to the young Rosemary Clooney's cheerful abandon. It depresses me a little to think she had to trot it out for audiences when she was an older woman. It's like asking the older, "Is That All There Is?" Peggy Lee to sing "How Much Is That Doggy In The Window?" But Clooney was an entertainer and a pro; if the song had become tedious to her she never let on.

So I'll amend my former declaration to: What a woman.

"Innocent" Ears

You said you'd always love me
You said you'd be my friend
You had your fingers crossed
You stuck it to me in the end

Innocence ... it's all you'll ever plead

Ah, Harlequin ... rescuing the pride of Winnipeg rockers in the 80s!



Burton Cummings was flying solo; The Guess Who were done; BTO was on the verge of paying the principal on the "Overdrive" ... what were the odds a Winnipeg band would ever pull us back into the arena for a rockin' good time?

The guitar-based, synth-friendly Harlequin accomplished that very stunt with mullet-coiffed élan.

Last night I was walkin'
And I, I saw you with my friend again
And you weren't both talking
Least I don't try to pretend

Yesterday as I wheezed to the melody it occurred to me that "innocence" was pretty much required from the listener for this song to work its magic. When I was 15 this was just the song to get me roller-skating: at the time, the odds of witnessing the object of my desire holding hands with any one of my friends were actually pretty good -- better, in fact, than my own. Now, almost 30 years later, this sort of song with its stilted lyrics would prompt me to switch stations.

In fact, it didn't take 30 years for my taste in music to change. The next track chosen by the randomizer was "Dirty Pool" by Stevie Ray Vaughn & Double Trouble. Same subject matter, better execution and only three short years' difference between 'em.

Post-Q Thoughts

CBC Radio One is an example of our tax-dollars being put to the best possible use in a given medium, and Q, as hosted by Jian Ghomeshi, is the cream of the crop. It may be "lighter" in content than Ideas, but it is every bit as thought-provocative. Consider the Nov 27 show (pod) which features back-to-back interviews with Gene Simmons and David Foster. Simmons has taken it upon himself to save the Canadian record industry; Foster took off for LA to become the hit-maker of the 80s and 90s.

Two impressions from the show:

(1) I don't know how this happens, but despite the fact that Simmons should be the dreariest (if not loathsome) personality on the planet, I end up (as ever) quite charmed by his performance. I'm not sure what he's likely to accomplish in his latest gambit, but I suppose we owe him at least some credit for the longevity of RUSH: Geddy Lee has said that opening for KISS in the 70s was all the education RUSH needed to survive. Lee & Co. saw firsthand that while the other KISS members were partying and packing their faces with drugs, Simmons was mostly sober and fastidiously working the business (when he wasn't, erm, "working" the groupies).

(2) In the musical component of the Foster interview, Foster off-handedly says he had to "do the math" before approaching the piano -- a statement that spoke volumes to me. I was a disaster at math all through my primary education. For reasons that still elude me, that all changed in my 30s. And music, at least as it is appreciated in the West, is chiefly a mathematical exercise: it can be basic math like Hank Williams and KISS, or it can be the more complex stuff like late Coltrane, or Branford Marsalis. Either way, the performer abandons rigor and structure at his (or her) own peril.

Addendum: There is a subtext to these conversations that I think is worth making explicit. Ghomeshi was, in a former life, one of the front-men for Moxy Früvous (w). I was loitering in the Toronto music scene back in the day when Ghomeshi's band was sharing the stage with The Barenaked Ladies. At the time I was sure Moxy Früvous would soar to much greater heights than the Ladies: when they both participated in public workshops, MF would improvise songs that were catchier, cleverer and funnier than TBL. MF eventually cultivated a respectable "college" crowd. As for the Ladies, well ....

Anyway, when Ghomeshi challenges Simmons on his notion of how Canadian musicians need to change the challenge arises from his history as a performer. I'm sure he has some trenchant thoughts re: the desirability and nature of fame and fortune. I'd love to hear him expound, but this show is not his platform -- he is only its able host.

Whither The (Male) Jazz Singer?

"A Lot Of Livin' To Do" as performed by Sammy Davis Jr. came up today, and it got me wondering: where are the male jazz singers? I could name a dozen living female jazz singers, but the first and only male name that comes to mind is Michael Bublé -- a singer who, like Diana Krall, I have little use for, and thus hesitate to acknowledge as being in the "jazz" camp.

Then again, had I been a little more sentient when he was alive I might have been reluctant toward Sammy, too.



Sammy gets the jazz award in hindsight. The guy had some kind of attitude when it came to music. Where other people might try something, he DID it. In fact he often did something he wasn't asked to do -- like give Nixon a hug -- but even that earns him hindsight kudos. Bang bang, daddy-o.

The Groove That Saved The Song That Saved My Life

Today's exercise with the randomizer produced two tracks with simple but delightful grooves that generate their own electricity:

"It's A Long Way To The Top (If You Wanna Rock 'n' Roll)" -- AC/DC
"Found A Job" -- Talking Heads

"Long Way" is one of those rock songs that gets me nudging the volume knob a touch higher, to give it "that extra push over the cliff." What's the attraction? Other than bagpipes, nothing more than a stripped-down Chuck Berry groove that just won't quit. It's not just my favorite AC/DC song, it's my favorite AC/DC video as well: Bon the Falstaffian clown is still alive, and the other four are young enough to throw everything they've got into making a "concert" on a flatbed truck look like it's a heap of fun. And did I forget to mention the bagpipes?

The "Long Way" riff is the easiest thing for a first-time guitar-player to learn, which gives it an instant nostalgia factor. The groove the propels Talking Heads' "Found A Job" is similarly straight-forward -- two bar-chords, A7 and D7 -- but physically trickier to master. In fact, the dexterity it requires never really occurred to me until I saw David Byrne strumming it on his Strat in the movie. His strumming wrist is as fluid as the rest of his body, making it all look very easy -- for him. That visual memory of Byrne's rhythmic panache adds to the song's groove. It's also got funny lyrics that seem to have pretty much become the stock and trade of this world-wide web we're on.

The other song courtesy of the randomizer was The Kinks' "Destroyer." Nothing particularly groovy about that tune, but I've always admired the band's audacity, harnessing new lyrics to a former top-ten hit ("All Day And All Of The Night") and nearly getting the same slot 15 years later.

Cycling With A Zombie

The recent snowfall has forced me to move the Jake indoors again. I very much prefer the road to the trainer, but I know from personal experience what a terrible toll salted roads take on a bicycle -- even one with an aluminum frame. The one benefit to indoor pedaling: listening to music and podcasts.

I went with music yesterday, and the randomizer kicked out:

"The Great American Nightmare" -- Rob Zombie
"LA Is Where I Belong" -- Peachfuzz
"Manteca" -- Dizzy Gillespie/Funky Lowlives Remix
"The Man Without Fear" -- Drowning Pool, with Rob Zombie

As my late father-in-law was fond of quoting, "The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places!" I have a rather soft spot in my heart for Mr. Zombie. My first exposure to his vocal stylings was at the closing of Daredevil. I was staring at the screen, trying to put my finger on how a movie could be so true to its source material and yet feel so soulless, when Drowning Pool came on with their cascading guitar riff, stopped, waited for Zombie's shout: "GO!!" I actually laughed and clapped my hands when it was over. Then I got to my feet and bought the soundtrack. Then I bought Past, Present & Future. After years of dismissing Metal as witless and stoopid, I was now thoroughly charmed by its witless stupidity.

This really was the perfect soundtrack for comic books. For the next few years after that moment, whenever I took the girls tobogganing they could be counted on to cheer, "C'MON, C'MON, C'MON -- DAREDEVIL!!" Now they can be counted on to roll their eyes, and request a change to Mama Mia.

Yes, well: two -- or more -- can play at the eye-rolling game.

Random Tracks

The randomizer chose some surprisingly heavy tracks, considering this was a "light"* day for me:

"Bon Temps Rouler" -- T Bone Burnett
"Sweet Child Of Mine" -- Guns n' Roses
"The Criminal Inside Me" -- R.L. Burnside

The session did conclude on a light note:

"Everybody Wants Everything" -- Carolyn Arends

Post-mortem: I only have three GnR tracks on my player, but they come up with such frequency I'm thinking of pulling them. Have to admit, however, that Slash knew what it took to build a rock 'n' roll guitar solo. His playing on this track is elemental, sure, but it works brilliantly within the song's structure.

The randomizer also seems to like R.L. Burnside. I do too, for the most part. A friend was playing A Ass-Pocket Of Whiskey at a party. Someone asked him what he thought of Burnside. "He sounds like Robert Johnson screaming from the depths of Hell," said my friend.

The questioner was taken aback. "I kind of like Burnside," he said.

I guess the questioner missed the note of admiration in my friend's assessment.

Some months back I rented and watched Black Snake Moan chiefly because the filmmaker (Craig Brewer) cited Burnside as the basis for Samuel Jackson's character. The film is unintentionally risible in spots, but not without value: Sam Jackson communicates exactly why playing filthy blues in a juke-joint is the sole means of his salvation. Not many films do a good job of capturing that quality: at the moment, The Commitments is the only other flick that comes to mind.

Random Tracks

"Tush" -- ZZ Top
"I'm Bad, I'm Nationwide" -- ZZ Top
"Gone Gone Gone" -- Robert Plant & Alison Krauss
"Best Of My Love" -- The Commodores
"Take On Me" -- a-ha
"Someday I Will Kill You" -- Supersuckers

The inclusion of a-ha was a bit of a buzz-kill. Jet Li contends that happy music inspires better work-outs. "Take On Me" qualifies as a "happy song," but none of the (entirely pleasant) memories it conjures add to my iron-heaving will-power. Quite the opposite, really. Thank God for the Supersuckers.

Other songs: Chuck Klosterman once proposed that we respond to and remember bits of songs, as oppose to their whole. He enumerated several such bits -- the bagpipes in "It's A Long Way To The Top (If You Want To Rock 'n' Roll)" by AC/DC was the only one I remember. I think this theory, like so many he throws on paper, is half-baked but whimsical enough to stir the magazine reader's imagination. Suspending my criticism for a second longer, I'll propose that the cymbal work in "Gone Gone Gone" by Robert Plant & Alison Krauss is another such "bit." Remarkable how such a simple bit of "tic-tic-tic TSH-TSH-TSH-TSH TSH-TSH-TSH-TSH" gets the blood surging.

Thanksgiving Monday, 1:15 - 2:50

In a dry-heave clench of post-Thanksgiving remorse, I pulled a double-shift in exercise. First, the Random Tracks:

"Twist" -- Tones On Tail
"Goodbye Stranger" -- Supertramp
"Country Home" -- Neil Young & Crazy Horse

Then it was off to Wilfred. The song in my head on the way there was "One Long Saturday Night" by BR5-49.



Say, could you point me to the Interesting Music Shoppe?





Closed, of course. Actually, the owner is an avid cyclist -- we talk more about bikes than we do about guitars -- so I suspect he's doing what I'm doing, probably somewhere up the Bruce Trail.

Even with my father-in-law in the hospital, this year's Thanksgiving was an absolute delight in contrast to last year's. The song in my head for the journey home: "What A Good Year For The Roses" -- Elvis Costello.

Random Tracks

A "heavy" day generates a longer list of random selected tracks. My player took it easy on me today, indulging in only a pinch of nostalgia.

"Hero Of Nineteen Eighty Three" -- Peachfuzz
"Damn My Soul" -- Supersuckers
"Immigrant Song" -- Led Zeppelin
"Where's Your Boyfriend At" -- The Yayhoos
"Like A Rocket" -- Reverend Horton Heat
"Fishin' In The Muddy" -- Gurf Morlix
"Gospel Plow" -- Jason & The Scorchers

Gee, after a tracklist like this I wonder why I'm thirsty for a beer?

Random Tracks: "This Is Me In Grade 11!"

A "light" day, so the track list is short (BTW, I'm serious about "light" -- the bar has 12 1/2 pounds on it):

"Burnin' For You" -- Blue Öyster Cult
"Photograph" -- Def Leppard
"Directory Assistance" -- Barnabas
"Roll With The Changes" -- REO Speedwagon

The randomizer was in a nostalgic mood, it seems. Just looking at this list is enough to bring out a rash of facial acne. The Def Lep was the most difficult track to endure, but BÖC and Barnabas were genuine delights. "Burnin' For You" in particular stirred an olfactory memory: the smell of my buddy's Plymouth Duster, an old but reliable slant-six he drove for five or six years. That car had a dusty smell that actually seemed to get worse when the weather was rainy. I recall spending a weekend with him and his cousin, and driving that car through a prairie storm of apocalyptic proportions that brought out all the frogs. Just cruising from Winnipeg to Headingley we must have mowed down 1000 frogs. It just seemed of a piece with the panoply of weirdness that constituted our late adolescence in the early 80s.

Later that night the three of us sat on the front porch, sipping "Pic-a-Pop" as we watched the lightning roll southwest. We didn't have a clue about anything, which was just as well for all concerned. What little knowledge we did possess only got us into trouble.

Over 400 Tracks To Choose From, And "Random" Gave Me This:

"Monkey With A Gun" -- The Yayhoos
"Snake Drive" -- R.L. Burnside
"Treat Me Right" -- Pat Benatar
"Holy Roller Novocaine" -- The Kings Of Leon
"Kick The Chair" -- Megadeth
"Brother, Where Are You?" -- Oscar Brown, Jr., Matthew Herbert Remix
"Rock Your Ass" -- The Supersuckers

"Brother Where Are You?" came on twice. I suppose if my player is trying to tell me anything it's that I could stand to substitute slower music for some of my, um, harsher tracks.