Be Kind - Rewind: The Story of Twelve Songs

I was driving to work the other day and found myself skipping over tracks in order to listen to  standout songs from the Everclear record, "Sparkle and Fade."  I don't know about you, but most of my revelations come to me when I am driving somewhere.  

So as I reached toward the skip button, I caught myself, and stopped.  Why in the world am I skipping through the record to merely listen to the radio hits?  Some of you, myself included, have come to know these non-radio songs as "album filler."  But why?  Is the rest of the record garbage?  Certainly, as a former artist, my band didn't write hits and say, "eh, lets just throw this other shit in as filler."  No.  Every song, on every one of our records contained 115% of the best we could do as a collective unit.  Every song was as relevant as the next.

I felt a little disgusted in myself.  And for the first time in over fifteen years, I reached toward my disc player, started the CD from the beginning, and listened to the album all the way through.

SOMA - San Diego

 

When I was a kid, I'd go to shows throughout San Diego and Los Angeles.  I'd be at SOMA, the Roxy, the Epicentre, the Troubadour, the Whiskey, the Che Cafe, soaking it all in.  The bands would be up there on stage pouring their souls out for everyone to see and hear.  If I liked what I saw, I bought the vinyl or the tape, and I'd go home and listen to the entire record a hundred times.  There weren't any "hit" songs within the underground scene.  There were just punk rock/rock n' roll bands and a thriving community of music lovers who found their identity within those San Diego/Los Angeles back street music venues.  The energy and effort is what mattered.

I can't pinpoint the exact time when I fell into the habit of skipping through records to find the "best" songs.  Were the bands writing music that wasn't as good?  Or was I merely becoming selfish and ultra picky?  I don't know.  Maybe a bit of both?  Maybe I'm getting old?
  

You know who helped kick me back into my old mind set?  Dave Grohl.  I've never met Dave, but whenever someone asks, "If you could meet anyone, who would it be," my first answer is always Dave Grohl.  Not only because I was a massive Nirvana fan, and certainly a fan of his work in the Foo Fighters, but he comes across as being very approachable.  A dude who makes music for the working class.  Middle finger to the industry kinda guy.  You know what I mean?

Anyhow, those guys put out the "Wasting Light" record a little while back.  Then, they toured regular American garages, for folks like you and me, to kick off support for the record.  That floored me.  I'd say that it got those old rock n' roll wheels turning in my head all over again.  I've been watching interviews with Dave and the rest of the band lately.  As I watched the excitement, clearly evident in the bands' eyes as they spoke of recording in a natural setting, on reel-to-reel tape, I found my own motivation to pull out records with the sole intent of listening to every song on every album.  Not just the hits.  Guess what?  The records are really good.  I mean, really good!

I think that in the age of digital music media, we have become lost in a sea of singles.  Don't get me wrong.  There's nothing wrong with enjoying a single song.  And God bless you for purchasing the song in order to support the artist.  I simply think that we have forgotten that there is an album attached to those singles.  There are ten to however many more songs on the record from which that song was born.  And the artists poured out their soul in order to put that record into the hands of the public.  

I suppose I have written here today to encourage you to revisit your records and give every song an equal shot.  If you're like me, you own records that you haven't even heard.  Show those records some love.  Fall in love with music all over again.


Post Script:  This entry is dedicated to any musician/band that have enough talent to write their own music, and play their own instruments.  And to every band who truly pay their dues.  Cheers!

Old Man at the Rock Show

Bob Dylan taught me how to play the guitar.  Eric Clapton helped me expand on my very basic knowledge of chord structure.  Guns N’ Roses inspired me to buy an amplifier.  Metallica taught me to turn it up loud.  “Smells Like Teen Spirit” changed my life, and “Longview” made me want to be in a band.  

I know what some of you might be thinking.  The artists that I mentioned might not be indie or punk rock enough for you.  I cared about this perception in 1992.  Now?  I love music.  And the guys that whined “sell out” are the guys listening to the same Fat Wreck and Nitro bands that they were listening to when they were kids.  Their record taste has evolved much like their maturity. 

You know who I am talking about.  The thirty-somethings in the pit at the Face to Face show who can only name the songs from “Don’t Turn Away.”  The guys who spend the entire night on the floor, raising middle fingers to those of us who found seats in the balcony above the band.  The same guys who will be ejected from the show because they chose to swallow a flask of cheap vodka in sixty seconds and then belligerently break unsuspecting necks while East Coast slamming in a non-existent pit.

I digress.

My past musical ignorance was necessary.  My close record store buddies might say that my taste hasn’t evolved drastically.  I would argue that it has.  These days, I can actually laugh about it and we can poke a little fun at each other.  I can tell Chuck that the latest Killing Joke record is a sleeper and he, in turn, can tell me that Recover (Ceci N’Est Pas) didn’t do anything new with their last attempt.  The point is that I am not offended by shots at my musical taste anymore.  And maybe that is my problem.

Remember when you’d hear a song and it would blow you away?  Those artists, from that point on, weren’t capable of producing garbage.  Right?  Songs had such an impact on my life that I can remember where I was when I was listening to them.  I had a walkman when I was younger and I would wear out every cassette single with its torturous inner mechanisms.  I must have listened to “Appetite For Destruction” and “Nevermind” over a thousand times.  Those records (amongst many others) never got old for me, but the cassettes sure as hell took a beating.

Music captivated me in the same way that love did.  I couldn't think about anything else and I couldn't wait until the next (insert artist here) record came out.  There was oxygen, and then there was music.

As I grew older, I have found that I have become a picky music consumer.  I have to laugh at myself at times.  I find myself thinking that bands in my day did it way better than they do now.  Only to remember that the old timers from back then said the exact same thing!  So what is going on?  Have bands been getting progressively worse or has my musical taste taken refuge at the retirement home?  Look at the charts.  You tell me.

I have found myself a little saddened as I compare my current musical participation to that of my younger years.  I am not the kid in the pit or up against the guard rail at the show anymore.  Instead, I am soaking in every moment from a tactical vantage point with my wife.  Hell, by the time the headliner takes the stage, I’m ready for bed.  When I am at the merch booth, I’m not looking for a shirt or a hoodie.  Instead, I am seeking out that ultra rare tour-only 7” that will eventually become a collectors item.  While others are hunting down the band members, my wife and I are making a quick exit in hopes of beating the rush or traffic that will ensue.  

I guess my point is this.  My music consumption has changed much like my taste in alcohol.  When I was young, it was all about gutter punk, King Cobra, and sleepless nights.  These days, I opt for fine imports or a glass of merlot, “Clarity,” and resolve the night surrounded by those who I love the most.  

These are my thoughts as I grow older.  I will always love music.  I have merely learned that this love evolves with every year God adds to my life.

Thanks,

Steven