Posts Tagged: mp3

music — 1 Comment
25
Mar 09

Machines were mice and men were lions, once upon a time

Moondog

If I were to stop you on the street, pull this photo out of my pocket and show it to you, what would you say? Would you say, “Hey, that guy’s wearing a football on his head!” Or, “Hey, that guy is dressed up like a viking! Is he playing dungeons and dragons?”

Or would you say, “Hey! That’s Moondog!”

Those are all good reactions, but that last one is actually 100% correct. This is a photograph of Moondog, aka Louis Thomas Hardin, aka the Viking of 6th Avenue, aka one of my new favorite American composers.

Check out this short piece, “Symphonique #6 (Good For Goodie),” from his album Moondog 2, recorded in 1971 (2:48):

This piece seems to be fairly representative of his work– a complicated, underlying percussive element, with building counterpuntal melody on top, and insane time signature. I also freaking love the bass line.

There are a lot of amazing things I could tell you about Moondog (and I’ve only known about Moondog for a few weeks– a friend and I were trading recent obsessions, and she tipped me off): he was blinded when he was 16 in a farm accident (that would have been 1932), he lived on the streets of New York City for about 20 years, and he only wore clothing that he made himself, all various homages to Thor, the Norse god of thunder.

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music / what are these young homosexuals doing — No Comments
23
Jan 09

Anatomy of a Smiths song: Rusholme Ruffians

In the interest of full disclosure, I suppose I should get it out of the way and tell you now– I’m a big, giant, freakish fan of The Smiths.

I didn’t used to be. I used to consider them overrated and even boring. I believed what people said about Morrissey, that he was the Pope of Mope, a touchstone for depressive teenagers, with flat, one-dimensional lyrics.

Then a couple of things happened. A friend played “Cemetery Gates” for me to cheer me up one night, and after I scoffed (The Smiths? To cheer me up?), I realized that she was right, and it was a beautiful, clever, cheerful song. With references to Keats and Oscar Wilde, no less.

I started giving Mozzer et al more of a chance, and a couple of years later, when I went through a particularly rough spot, I realized what fantastic companions The Smiths can be. They’re occasionally genuinely angsty, enough that you can properly empathize with them, but the lyrics are brilliant and have so many facets that you’ll find yourself laughing, or at least quirking a smile, at the most unexpected moments.

I also need to mention that Morrissey, the singer and lyricist, and Johnny Marr, the guitarist and melody-maker, are perhaps the most perfect songwriting team in all of western (alterna)(pop)(rock) history. To my personal taste I would definitely place them above Lennon/McCartney, and their break-up was certainly no less a tragedy.

Having said all this, and having recently been on the topics of both Morrissey and Elvis, I’d like to examine one of their minor gems, “Rusholme Ruffians.” If you’re unfamiliar, take a moment to listen:

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