Comments (11)

I discovered Nick Drake quite by accident. I’m a huge fan of The Smiths, and I when I watched Ferris Bueller’s Day Off I recognized one of my favorite of their songs, “Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want,” being covered in spectacular fashion during the scene in the Art Institute Museum. I found out the band covering the song was The Dream Academy, and I looked for their music the next time I was in a record store. The Dream Academy had recorded a hit single, “Life in a Northern Town,” which I quickly grew to adore. At some point, I noticed the song was dedicated to someone named Nick Drake, and set about finding some of his music.

It wasn’t easy to find his albums. He only recorded three, and none sold very well. They were out of print for a while, then reissued, but not in vast quantities. Eventually, I tracked down a copy of Pink Moon and fell in love with it upon my first listen.

Currently Playing: Nick Drake – Pink Moon

Nick Drake’s story is a tragic one, and I won’t delve too deeply into it. He was a near recluse who seldom performed, was interviewed in print but once, and was never captured on film other than in childhood home movies. Pink Moon, his final, and in my opinion best, album clocks in at less than 30 minutes long. When asked why it was so short, he is said to have replied, “that’s all I had to say.” Sadly, his words were too true– he never recorded another album, and within less than three years, Drake was dead from an overdose of antidepressants. His death was ruled a suicide, though his family disputes that finding.

I saw it written and I saw it say
Pink moon is on its way
And none of you stand so tall
Pink moon gonna’ get you all

So simple, and yet if you hear it sung, and the accompanying music, you can’t help but feel your soul overwhelmed by anguish mixed with beauty. More so than any other singer I know, Drake’s music encompasses heartache and sorrow in a way vague enough to allow you to apply it to your own life, and yet in a manner that appears deeply personal at the same time. Many bands accomplish the first half of that equation; Radiohead comes to mind. Myriad others capture the latter half; Morrissey anyone? Who but Nick Drake successfully juggled both elements at once?

In the opening paragraph I traced my meandering journey to discovering Drake’s music, because in many ways it mirrors the equally rambling path his music took from unknown to popular. For nearly 30 years after his death, Drake and his music languished in obscurity, only surfacing occasionally, as in the dedication that helped me discover him. In another blip on the radar, Robert Smith once stated that his band The Cure was named after a Nick Drake lyric, taken from “Time Has Told Me,” another one of my favorite Drake songs.

Time has told me
You’re a rare rare find
A troubled cure
For a troubled mind.

Then, nearly overnight, Nick Drake became a posthumous celebrity. “Pink Moon” was used as the backing track for a car commercial, and within a few days, the improbable had happened– Nick Drake knocked N*Sync out of the Top 5. When I read the headline I was dumbfounded. I hadn’t seen the commercial, and my mind could not comprehend what I was reading. “Obscure English Folk Singer Nick Drake Nudges Pop Superstars N*Sync from Chart” made as much sense to me as would have “Jimmy Hoffa Found Living on Venus.” Once I read the article and learned about the commercial, of course it all became clear, but that may have been the only moment in my life where I was awake and honestly wondered if I were dreaming.

I’ll close with an excerpt from “Life in a Northern Town,” the tribute to Nick Drake that led me to discover his beautiful, yet pained, songs.

The evening had turned to rain
Watch the water roll down the drain,
As we followed him down
To the station
And though he never would wave goodbye,
You could see it written in his eyes
As the train rolled out of sight
Bye-bye.

Comments (12)

Happy Halloween everyone! I have no costume. What are YOU going to be? In unrelated news, Fizzy says she wants long underwear. It’s not THAT cold in California, is it?

Here’s something funny. Have you ever seen one of these ads in an old comic book?

Here’s a modern version, satirizing the RIAA’s corrupt methods:

Comments (7)

My recent song blogs have digressed into personal anecdotes, musings on love, or commentaries on the gap between the always fantastic life one hopes to lead and the often mundane life one actually does lead. In short, I’ve strayed away from the original concept behind the posts, namely dissecting a song I find to be especially well-written. In what I hope will be harbinger of song-related song posts to come, today I will share with you the second of my triumvirate of favorite songs; I already wrote about one in a previous post.

Currently Playing: Pulp – Disco 2000

Well we were born within an hour of each other
Our mothers said we could be sister and brother
Your name is Deborah, Deborah,
It never suited ya.
Oh they said that when we grew up,
we’d get married, and never split up.
We never did it, although often I thought of it.

“Disco 2000” is another example of an uptempo, danceable song that sounds happy from a musical standpoint, but is lyrically a fairly somber and serious song.

I said let’s all meet up in the year 2000

Won’t it be strange when we’re all fully grown?

Be there 2 o’clock by the fountain down the road.

I never knew that you’d get married

I would be living down here on my own

On that damp and lonely
Thursday years ago.

Really, what more need I say? Jarvis Cocker, Pulp’s lead singer and songwriter, pretty much said it all right there. He continues the tale, recalling his unspoken crush on Deborah throughout their school years together:

You were the first girl at school to get breasts.

Martin said that you were the best.

The boys all loved you but I was a mess
I had to watch them try to get you undressed

We were friends that was as far as it went

I used to walk you home sometimes but it meant,

Oh it meant nothing to you.

’Cause you were so popular.



Deborah do you recall?
Your house was very small,
with wood chip on the wall.
When I came around to call,
you didn’t notice me at all.

For whatever reason, while this song is a positive dance floor anthem in most parts of the world, it never climbed the American pop charts. Unless you found yourself at some niche Britpop club back in the ’90s, á la San Francisco’s Pop Scene, you have probably never heard this song, which is a pity, for it is, at least in my opinion, one of the greatest pop songs of all time. I hope you’ve clicked the above link and heard it. Even if you don’t share my opinion, you can’t deny that it is danceable to the extreme.

It’s also enigmatic in its finale:

What are you doing Sunday baby?

Would you like to come and meet me maybe?

You can even bring your baby.


Will Deborah meet the protagonist on Sunday? Is her baby her husband, or is it her child? Has she divorced, and is she at last ready to embark on romance with the boy who has adored her since childhood?

A final note, and a personal one (I can’t escape it, can I?), this is the song that made Fizzy and I, well, Fizzy and I. We met in an elevator five years ago, almost to the day, and in the time it took the elevator to rise eight floors, we ascertained that this was both of our favorite songs. And then we fell in love. Okay, more stuff happened in between, but seriously– thank you Jarvis Cocker! I knew Pulp could do nearly anything, but I never knew Pulp could do anything like that…

Comments (13)

I’ll try to post a blog that provides greater details concerning our time in New York, but suffice to say that Sue and I are enjoying ourselves here. We’ve been walking all over the island of Manhattan, catching up with friends, and generally having fun. This morning we walked up the block from our hotel in search of a diner for lunch; lo and behold, what did we see? This:

Tom’s Restaurant was famously used for the exterior shots of the diner Seinfeld and his gang frequented, but it was previously famous as the diner Suzanne Vega sang about in the early ’90s hit “Tom’s Diner.” It became famous, twice! The food there is unremarkable, which is about par for the course for any diner, really.

Last night we walked about Times Square. This one-time hotbed for sin and debauchery has become pretty doggone wholesome. One can even watch a sporting event on the massive video screen. I daresay those are the Rams engaged in a heated match against, ummm, the Pirates? I don’t really know; one team was for sure called the Rams.

I love the look of the Times Square Police Department’s sign.

That’s all I have for you at this time. I’ll return in a few days to share more pictures and stories of our trip to New York. In the meantime, help me fill in the blank above and choose an opponent for the Los Angeles, excuse me, St. Louis Rams. Today’s Question: What is your favorite football team?

Comments (15)

In the comments section of my last post I promised a commenter that I would write about a Frank Sinatra song today. Choosing one Sinatra song about which to write took some time. My initial thought was to go with Summer Wind, as that was the song I’d traditionally play for my roadies and security agents before the start of a fraternity party. We all knew the rest of the night would be upbeat pop and rock music, so something a bit more mellow from Ol’ Blue Eyes made for a nice buffer before the onslaught of drunken revelers came charging into the venue. While Summer Wind is certainly a fine song, and would have made for an interesting blog, I’ve instead opted to go with:

Currently Playing: Frank Sinatra – The Way You Look Tonight

Now, after a few years together, I imagine most couples start bandying about the idea of a wedding, and this is by no means any sort of official announcement, but yeah, Sue (Fizzy) and I have whiled away some of childhood’s happy hour by imagining what our wedding may be like, were we ever to have one. The Way You Look Tonight has been mentioned more than once as a potential “first dance” song. I don’t think I’ve ever DJ’ed a wedding at which this was the first dance, which is something of a surprise to me; I think it makes for a great one. It’s fast enough to avoid having to stand doing the rotating-hug-dance in front of all one’s friends and relatives, but it isn’t so fast as to leave one breathless by the end. It’s also romantic, and evocative of many ideas associated with one’s wedding day– looking one’s best, a memorable night, being in love, and so forth.

One evening not long ago, Fizzy and I were sauntering through San Francisco’s Union Square after a romantic dinner at some cozy eatery, and this song began playing through the park’s loudspeakers; it completed the evening. We danced to it right there in the park, amidst a mixture of stares of both incredulity and admiration from what few people were out and about at that hour, but we felt anonymous enough and didn’t mind. A few people clapped when we finished, and it definitely made for a grand topper to an already wonderful evening. Moreover, it cemented this song in our minds– we finally had an “our song.”

Today’s Question: What will/ did you dance to first at your wedding?

Comments (11)

Some songs are linked inextricably to a holiday. In many cases it’s a legitimate connection, for example “White Christmas” and Christmas, but in other cases, it’s an association that came to be after the song was released.

Currently Playing: Guy Lombardo – Auld Lang Syne

We all sing it, or at least hear it, as the clock strikes midnight on New Year’s Eve and the new year begins, but it wasn’t originally a holiday song. It is, however, one of my favorite songs, so while 2004 is still several months away, I’m playing it anyway. Plus, it’s recorded by an Italian-American, the great Guy Lombardo, so I’m even *more* partial to it.

It’s not so much the case anymore, but a LOT of the big-name singers of the big band era were Italian-Americans. I wonder why that was the case? Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Louis Prima, Lou Monte, Al Martino, Tony Bennett, Jack Leonard, Vic Damone, Jimmy Durante, Jerry Vale– I could go on forever it seems, except I’m not sure where I am going with this. I could continue by listing all the great Italian-American athletes, but that would be an even longer list. Let’s just all agree that Rocky Marciano, Joe DiMaggio, and Joe Montana were the greatest in their respective fields (no pun intended), and leave it at that.

As you may have surmised, I am in fact an Italian-American, though I’m not sure what that really means. My grandfather came to America from Sicily, so my father was raised in a traditional Sicilian/Italian household, but by the time I was born, we had assimilated, and were just another American family.

My older brothers grew up with at least some sense of the immigrant experience, at least in terms of being surrounded by family from the old country, but by the time I was born most of my Sicilian-born relatives had passed away, and the remaining relatives had left crime-ridden Hawthorne for greener pastures. Said brothers were exposed to the sort of neighborhood and lifestyle that I can only experience second-hand by watching Goodfellas or The Godfather.

America is the melting pot after all, and I suppose I’m another example of that phenomenon at work. Though I may identify as Sicilian-American, realistically I’m no more Sicilian then I am black, white, Chinese, or Lithuanian. I’m just American. To an extent I’ve inherited my father’s love and loyalty for all things Italian, but I can’t exactly say that I’m any different then any other American person due to my lineage.

Today’s Question: Do you feel you belong to any non-American ethnic group, or are you just a melted-in American?

For the record, I’m only half Sicilian. I’m also 1/4 Mexican, 1/8 Native American (Cheyenne, I believe) and 1/8 Swedish. But really, I’m 100% American, for what do I know of those other cultures?

Comments (11)

For a few years now I have been using mp3 files when DJ’ing, but as the process of converting a song from vinyl to mp3 is a somewhat slow and painstaking one, I’ve been running a hybrid vinyl/digital system. Gradually, however, I’m working through my vast record collection and digitizing the files, and the eventual goal of DJ’ing straight from a computer is slowly becoming a reality. Lately I’ve been working through stacks of old rap records from the ’80s, and this afternoon I came across this song:

Currently Playing: Salt N’ Pepa – Tramp

Salt N’ Pepa repurpose a sample from the soul classic of the same name into their song, and in doing so incorporate the down home, country roots of the term tramp with its present-day meaning. While to modern ears a tramp is a female who is promiscuous, either in act or dress, the older meaning of the word was more akin to a hobo. In Salt N’ Pepa’s world, a tramp is a shabby, wannabe player, not much different from what TLC dubbed a scrub a few years back.

Today’s entry is therefore dedicated to all my female readers. Consider it a poeticized how-to for playa-hatin’ all those would-be mack daddies and self-styled pimps, set to a grinding 4/4 beat. After all, don’t think I haven’t I noticed that a preponderance of my readership, or at least those readers who comment on my posts, is female. I suppose this makes sense– boys and girls do like to interact with one another. Just don’t get your hopes up, ladies; this pea is spoken for.

Today’s Question: Do you run into a lot of tramps?

Comments (7)

I realize that no one who lives in California, especially Northern California, and even more especially the Bay Area ought ever to be caught complaining about the weather, but, I mean to say– today was a really warm day. I am wishing for December, and imagining a white Christmas. As such, I am playing Christmas music.

Currently Playing: Dean Martin – Baby It’s Cold Outside

The song is not working. It’s 3:30 am, and it’s still altogether too warm. I almost wish it really *would* snow. Of course, were it ever to snow in Berkeley I’d almost certainly be the first to complain about how cold the weather is.

This is a pretty adorable song. Sure there may be slight overtones of sexism and date rape, but hey– it was 1944, and if we all learned last time that the 1950s were awesome, how amazing must the ’40s have been? Plus it’s Dean Martin; he can seduce me any old time, and I ain’t even gay.

Today’s Question: Make a wish. What is your wish?

Obviously were I granted a wish right now I’d not wish for snow; but what would I wish? I’m honestly not sure. At the risk of sounding panglossian, my life right now is exactly what I want it to be. I suppose I could go all high road on you and wish for world peace or a World Series win for the Cubs, but on a personal level? I’m blessed with so much more in life than I probably deserve as is, a wish would be gilding the lily.

Comments (5)

More than a few people have commented or emailed concerning my “reviews,” usually to the effect of, “those aren’t proper reviews.” Well, they aren’t exactly meant to be traditional reviews. In fact, they aren’t reviews at all. I enjoy writing, and this blog is my way of indulging that hobby. Sometimes I find inspiration to write in the form of a song or book, and while I realize that traditionally people write about such things to express an opinion or to convince you to buy (or avoid buying) it, that’s not my intent.

I sometimes feel the need to express a thought or emotion that a song conjures up within me, or to share what I feel are especially well-written lyrics. That’s it. I seldom consult reviews when it comes to music, and I don’t feel qualified to write one. If you happen to listen to a song I mention and enjoy it, well, great! If you dislike it, so be it. I put little stock in opinions in general; I don’t think anyone really knows much of anything at all, we all simply have beliefs that help us navigate the world around us. I put even less stock in opinions regarding art. We like what we like, and to some people the Spice Girls are just as good as Beethoven, and there is nothing wrong with that.

Speaking of the songs about which I write, I want to take a moment to remind you that when I list a song as “currently playing, rather than merely seeing the song in print, like this,

Currently Playing: Mono – Life in Mono

you can click the link to hear it. Fancy that. Are you hearing it? Well, are you? No? Turn your speakers up, silly. There, now you can hear it. Isn’t it the best? Close your eyes and just imagine yourself cruising in Pinky, my pink ’62 Thunderbird (R.I.P.). It’s late at night, the streets are empty, and…hey! Your eyes are open. Cheater!

Okay, no more silliness. But yah, the song you are (hopefully) hearing now is what I’d sometimes play while prowling the streets in Pinky. Money pit though she was, I miss that car sooo much. I love Tiffany, my current car, but Pinky was a one in a million.

The Money Pit

As for the song, this is the song by the “other” Mono. There is this really great Japanese band called Mono, and then there is the crappy “band” that made this song, which for some reason is a really good song to me. I think the rest of their songs are crappy. Unlike the good Mono. From Japan.

Comments (8)

I was sitting at my desk, wondering what to write, when this song came on:

Currently Playing: Duke Ellington – Satin Doll

“Satin Doll” transports me back in time to my days DJ’ing college parties. A typical such party would end at 2:00 am, after which I had to pay the security, bartenders, and other vendors. Then I had to pack up my sound system and stash it in its rented storage space. By the time I was done with everything, it would often be close to four in the morning.

Now, I never played any Duke Ellington at those parties; rather, “Satin Doll” was on the jukebox at King Diner, a 24-hour hamburger stand in San Francisco, where I would sometimes go to unwind after a night of work. I’d sit in that diner and drink a cup of coffee, and maybe eat a burger, and at some point I’d invariably drop a quarter into the jukebox. As soon as the first tinkling piano keys filled the diner, a feeling of calm would wash over me. For three minutes, I felt transported fifty years back into time.

DJ’ing is a lot lonelier than you’d think. I may have been the center of attention at the parties, but I was also the only person present who was sober, working, and dateless. After everyone else rode home on the buses, it was just me and the big city. Sitting in King Diner, watching the cashed out souls shambling down Mission Street, I’d contemplate my lot in life, as around me night gave way to day.

I often used to wonder about love. I had no idea what it meant to be “in love,” or how I would know if I were, and was more than half-convinced I would never find out. Sometimes I would think about whatever crush I currently had, and lament my “don’t date sorority girls” rule, when that crush happened to be on a Gamma Phi Beta. The rest of the time I’d spend asking myself if my chosen profession was what I really wanted to do with the rest of my life, or if I should be preparing myself for something better, or at the very least different. Then, because most of those parties took place on Thursday nights, I’d head back to Berkeley to catch an hour or two of sleep before going to school.

Things have changed since those days. I’m out of school, and working on different sorts of events that seldom require such late nights. I’m happily in love with the girl of my dreams, and while my job may not be quite the world-changing, fulfilling profession I once dreamed I’d have, it pays the bills and affords me enough free time to indulge my more intellectual and philanthropic pursuits. In short, life is good; but “Satin Doll” still puts me in a thoughtful mood.