One Spring Friday in Huntsville (In Unison)

Widespread Panic is the most honest band I've ever heard. They have no pretense, no fabrication, no costume, no cause. You won't find a less rock and roll Rock and Roll band. You also won't find a band that has delivered more quality live performance more consistently over a longer period of time. (Yes, the Dead were the Greatest of the Great at their peak, but compare a '72 Europe show to an '89 stadium gig and tell me if you hear a difference. Then, go to www.panicstream.com and listen to one of last weeks shows at Punta Cana, and let me know if you hear an aging band fading towards a sad end. I don't.) Panic's musical creed is captured in a single line from "Driving Song": "An honest tune with a lingering lead has taken me this far." Perhaps that's why they've been making music together for 27 years this week. For Georgians and those with any connection to Athens in particular, they are the home team, the local boys who held onto a Dream and rode it to fruition while never forgetting from whence they came. They've always been just popular enough to sustain success without shouldering the burden of pop notoriety.

I've seen Widespread live on maybe 40 occasions, everywhere from a minor league baseball stadium in Charleston to the shores of the San Francisco Bay. To call these times great doesn't begin to do them justice. They were formative experiences of my young life, and then some. (More on that later, particularly a little amphitheater nestled on a hillside in central Alabama.) Cooking pancakes for the family this morning and re-studying the band's 1991 eponymous LP (a/k/a "Mom's Kitchen" or "the green CD"), I was reminded of one of my favorite lines in the vast Panic lexicon. If you love a band, then you have your favorite lyrics. People who love the same band tend to share fondness for the same lyrics. Such is the case with Widespread Panic fans, as exemplified on a balmy Friday ten years past.

April 27, 2001 found the group of marvelous souls affectionately referred to as "Team Panic" (your writer included) at the unlikely destination of the Von Braun Civic Center in Huntsville, Alabama.     There is precisely one thing that could take that group to that spot on that day: a Widepsread Panic show. It was to be a weekend run, with the Huntsville show on a Friday and a Saturday performance to follow just up the road in Murfreesboro, Tennessee (another story altogether, for another day). Those members of Team Panic that were available for duty set sail from Atlanta shortly after lunch on what was a warm spring Friday and drove towards north central Alabama in no particular hurry - windows down, sunglasses on, bootlegs blaring, inter-vehicle rolling groove offs - a max chill Road Trip of unforgettable variety. "And the road goes on forever."

I don't know whether it is coincidence, but with the exception of the traditional Philips Arena NYE run, Widespread always seems to choose venues near grass fields. Grass fields are convenient and pleasant places to throw frisbees, drink beer, and generally tailgate in the setting afternoon soon. This was the case that Friday in Huntsville. It was like first day of summer camp, but for young adults. As a fully- engaged parent and professional, it's hard to internally recreate the liberated feeling of standing around in flip flops, shorts, and T-shirts, slightly sunburned with a small backpack of stuff for an entire weekend; no worries or agenda in the world but making sure we started traversing the distance between our field and the venue so as not to miss the opener. The only stress the situation presented was figuring out which song I would pick for the traditional Round of Beer Pick the Opener Derby. (That contest required rigorous pre-departure study of the previous 3 nights setlists; Panic never plays the same song more than once every three shows there was no mobile web then for pre-kickoff study. I almost always went for "Surprise Valley" if it was out there and won only once that I recall under "blind squirrel gets a nut" circumstances.)

April 27, 2001 was one of those nights when one doesn't walk around so much as he Floats. Time and space become more fluid and the Moment is paramount; the Plan is whatever will lead to increased happiness during the next 30 minutes and the time beyond that is irrelevant. Action takes priority over consequence. Anyone who does not share the common goal or expresses an individual agenda is quickly discarded as a "buzzkill." It's a very circumstantial feeling that can only be experienced during that interval of life before one bears the Weight of Great Responsibility. Nights like that Change you just a little; for the better, I think.

I well remember standing deep in the dark belly of the Von Braun arena on the floor not 100 feet from our heroes as anticipation gave way to motion (in the form of "noodling") during the First Set. Any show that started with "Disco" (my personal favorite version here) and contained a first-set cover of Robert Johnson's legendary "Stop Breaking Down Blues" was all right with me. Then, came the highlight of a highlight night, a single line belted in unison by 10,000 souls illuminated by cigarette lighters who, for three hours out of the history of the World, were the greatest of friends. As a lyricist, John Bell never sought philosophical precision. Once again, there is no central message. Panic's lyrics allow the listener to transpose his thoughts, feelings, and experiences into the song on his own terms. Such is the case with this sacred chestnut:

First I thought of this,
Then I turned to that,
And then I turned a little bit scared.
Well, I feel a little bit easier,
Knowing that you're all here.      

Thought of what? Turned to what? Why? What was frightening? Who is the "you?" Is it the person standing right next to you? The person you knew you'd see later? The person you hoped you'd see again someday? Or, was it all the persons surrounding you who'd chosen to share your Joy at this Time and Place? It's all whatever you want it to be. The answers mattered not on 4/27/01 in Huntsville, Alabama. Whatever meaning the people standing in that building gave those lines, the result was a unified, elated, clattering cheer. It was shared happiness par excellence. Hearing it all during that moment, I could only smile, look upwards, and shake my head ...

Ain't Life Grand?

[Author's note: For those of you where were there or care, to hear the 4/27/01 version of "I'm Not Alone," click here and enjoy what was an excellent show through track 7.]

SOTW - January 26, 2013 - Jack and Dolly

I don't know anything about Dolly Parton ... besides the obvious. I've never been to Dollywood and her brand of post-outlaw, heavy make-up Country has never been of particular interest. I don't mean to knock Dolly, I just don't know a thing about her. Her style of music and my tastes overlap in one microscopic point. Leave it to Jack White to find it.

We haven't talked much about Jack White here. For the uninitiated, Jack White is a 100% genuine complete total through-and-through authentic mucho bad ass; a modern musical Legend (capital "L"). There is no genre that Jack White cannot conquer. No bit of musical history, no matter how minute, is lost on him. If music had a Riddle of the Sphinx, Jack White would be the man we'd call to solve it. He's one of the few Big Ticket Rockers whose musical IQ and ego are of like size. Most of us know him from the White Stripes; it's hard to watch a sporting event these days without hearing the crowd chant the Epic Riff For the Ages from "Seven Nation Army." But the creator of that atomic bomb also recorded a modern masterpiece with .... Loretta Lynn?!?! (If you do not have Van Lear Rose, there's a hole in your library.) More later on Jack White later. In the meantime, check out the 2008 Page/Edge/White documentary, It Might Get Loud, for more background.

I have a pages-long list of questions that I'd ask Jack White if given the chance, but near the top is the following: "Man, how in the world did you end up covering a Dolly Parton song?" I'd like to think he was stretched out on an ratty old tweed sofa one night in a one-bedroom studio apartment in Detroit combing through a dusty box of discarded vinyl he'd picked up at a nearby thrift store that day for $5. Meg would have been sitting on wooden stool nearby staring blankly at the wall above the muted television and beating the coffee table with her sticks. Upon pulling out a well-worn copy of Dolly's 1974 LP Jolene and considering the Great Lady of Country's visage, how could he not have given the title track (and your Song of the Week for January 26, 2013) a try? So moved, how could a man of such dark proclivities not have been enthralled by a haunting tale of a homely woman repeatedly begging a more-attractive seductress: "please don't take my man." And a whole new universe of people who'd never even heard of Dolly Parton now sing in unison ...

  

SOTW - January 18, 2012 - Shovels & Rope

du·al·ism

  [doo-uh-liz-uh m] 

noun

1.

the state of being dual or consisting of two parts; division into two.

Yin and yang. The two sides of the coin. One contrasts the other. June and Johnny. Joan and Bob. Ike and Tina. Graham and Emmylou. Dave and Gil'. Jack and Meg. The primal tension between man and woman plays most vividly in music. It's that which we cannot see transposed onto that which we can. Where watching Keith and Mick share a mic' makes us squeamish, Bruce and Patty set things on fire with their faces two inches apart.

Cary Ann Hearst and Michael Trent, a/k/a Shovels & Rope, are a charming example. Drawing off the recent wave of Americana Country Folk, they have the immediate synergy of Rawlings/Welch, but with a half-dose of seriousness. What they lack in instrumental prowess, they make up for with buoyant delivery. Hearing them, you get the warm feeling that there is nothing they'd rather be doing. If you find yourself wanting tickets for the spring Old Crow/Avett tour, buy some Shovels & Rope for the drive. Folkies should start with their 2009 eponymous debut, while Nashville Rockers will gravitate towards 2012's O' Be Joyful. 

Your Song of the Week for January 18, 2012 is unadulterated sunny day driving music (preferably in the country). An irresistible adventure tale of lovers in crime, "Boxcar" is once-a-day tonic for dour moods. If they can keep making songs like this, "Cary Ann and Michael" might one day be written in stars.  

SOTW - January 10, 2012 - Left Turns

Bob Dylan was prone to Left Turns. Unless he was on a motorcycle, they all led to Glory. Nothing I could ever say or think could ever change what's been said and thought about Bob Dylan. I may try nonetheless, but later. Tonight, let's focus on one song, starting with a bit of context.

Beginning with his arrival in Greenwich Village in January 1961, Dylan became a closely-shorn folk tornado bringing peace on earth and goodwill to men in 3 minute intervals. (See The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan). When we think of this Dylan, we think in black-and-white. We see him at protests surrounded by rapt followers with an acoustic in his hand and a harmonica around his neck. "The answer my friend, is blowing in the wind. The answer is blowing in the wind."

Then, in 1965, he decided the World needed changing again, so he did. [Cue Left Turn 1.] The 1965 release of Bringing it all Back Home brought us Electric Dylan. (The live debut of this incarnation was his over-analyzed summer 1965 appearance at the Newport Folk Festival, which came a few months after Brining It was released). This is the first Dylan we think of in color; the too-far-too-fast young man hiding behind black Wayfarers seen unravelling in D.A. Pennebaker's Don't Look Back. This is the Dylan of "that thin wild mercury sound" on eternal display in Highway 61 Revisited (1965) and Blonde on Blonde (1966). "Johnny's in the basement mixing up the medicine, I'm on the pavement thinking 'bout the government..."

As Electric Bob wore thin, his thoughts turned to the country. (Who could blame him?) That's where he wrecked the Motorcycle (in July 1966) and that's where he stayed to recuperate, in then-unknown Woodstock, NY. After three masterpieces in 18 months in '65-'66, it would be that long before he recorded again. [Cue Left Turn 2.]

That brings us to 1967, and the release of the sparse and contemplative John Wesley Harding. Against a canvas of recuperation and decompression, he painted a gritty landscape of the robber heroes (title track), jokers and thieves ("All Along the Watchtower"), and supernatural redemption ("Drifter's Escape") set on the American frontier. The theme of open space carried over to the recording, with distance placed between the simple acoustic guitar, harmonica, bass, and drums. The somber adventure of John Wesley ends the only way it could, with an intra-album Left Turn and your Early Evening Song of the Week for January 9, 2012. Stepping down from his storytelling soap box, Dylan bids us goodbye with a simple lover's plea in the form of a pedal steel lullaby. Anyone who's longed can relate.    

Close your eyes, close the door.
You don't have to worry, anymore.
I'll be your, baby tonight.  

May such harmony and good fortune find you this weekend, and always.  

CESOTW - December 25, 2012

What could be a more precious sight than children on Christmas? Their joy is irreplaceable on this most magical day, and it becomes yours. They are arbitrary little things, grasping onto that last-minute stocking stuffer while the big present you spent half your Fall planning goes ignored. I takes them awhile to soak up That Which Santa Brought. It cannot be forced upon them. As always, they do things at their own time. It is only later in the day, when everyone's tied up in the kitchen and they've taken inventory of it all, that they fix their attention on That Which They Like Most. It's such a joy to catch them when everyone else has vacated the living room for appetizers and wine and the fire has died to ashes. The pressure to exhibit happiness is off, and it is only then that they begin to play on their terms instead of yours. How much louder do they sing when they don't know you're listening?

Your Christmas Edition Early Evening Song of the Week for December 25, 2012 draws its title from the holiday and its inspiration from the faces of the young on Christmas Morning. An early-mid climax from the Who's opus 1969 masterwork, Tommy, this gear-shifting anthem jumps into my mind every year when I open my eyes on the morning of 25 December. To be certain, a Christmas song that ponders the fate of a deaf, dumb, and blind pinball champion makes for a quirky holiday tradition! I hope that You and Yours have had a blessed Christmas day. 

SOTW - December 21, 2012 - Newtown

We human souls toil painfully to explain bad things. Our minds struggle with the hows and whys of inexplicable evil like that visited on Newtown, Connecticut last Friday. It is among life's angriest endeavors, one that is ultimately to no avail. It's beyond us. But one emotion cuts through the confusion and helps us make sense of our human role in these events. Compassion for the victims is the Guidestar that leads us through the agony. Whether we stand at Ground Zero staring at those thousands of names carved in bronze, or watch the faces of the 20 precious Angels now with God (and the brave Guardians who went with them) float from our television screens into Eternity, comisseration for those lost and those left behind takes over. It helps us heal.

Newtown, a nation of 300 million and a world beyond shares your pain. We cannot explain why, so we will not try. We can only hold our arms out for you and pray for your comfort in this darkest hour. We pray that these lives were not lost in vain, and that the un-fillable void they've left behind can be displaced in part by a national resolve to act; to do what it takes, whatever the cost, to stop this scourge of violence in our society.

I do not purport to be a wise enough man to have the Answers, to know definitively what the source of this problem is and what will work (and not work) to wipe these tragedies away. But I do know that we are facing a very real, present, and dangerous problem. This is no time for closed minds and obstinance. Staying the same course will bring these tragedies to other communities, sooner rather than later. So, as a nation, what are we going to do? We must decide.

Your Early Evening Song of the Week for December 22, 2012 carries a message of empathy and awareness. Newtown, we hear your cries. We are there with you, and we are listening. God bless you in your time of need.


 

The Championship - SOTW November 30, 2012

What heady times to be a Georgia Bulldog! Finally, the chips fell on our way. The Ghosts of 1980 are summoned. 24's and 8's and 34's float through our collective dreams. "Run, Lindsay!" October's agony has turned into November's ecstasy. One. More. Game. Dawgs. Wide open. No nerves, just a little trip to Miami. Who's afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?  

No matter what happens tomorrow, this has been an unforgettable week. All around us, people smile intermittently just thinking about what will happen inside the _Georgia_ Dome in 19 hours. It's been like slogging a 40 pound pack up one of the 5,500 foot peaks in the Great Smoky Mountains and seeing the blue sky over the top for the first time. Almost there. Almost there. 


Sports, like music, are part of the fabric our lives. This week's about as good as it gets for a lifelong Georgian and third-generation Bulldog. (Pop, I miss you buddy. This week would have made you chuckle. I'll pull 'em through.) The anticipation can be the best part. It's how we build the mental power to will them through. 

For your Early Evening Song of the Week for November 30, 2012, we must go kinetic. Searching backwards for the most fired up song in my catalog, my thoughts drifted back to 1991 and MTV's Headbanger's Ball. (Metallica's "Harvester of Sorrow" and Pantera's "Walk" were under consideration, but seemed a bit serious for the occasion.) I'd sit up well past midnight watching Riki Rachtman perform his clown routine, hoping upon hope that this bone crusher would tax the speakers of the old 27 inch Sanyo woodgrain tube TV in our playroom. It's a cross-genre collabo par excellence; a combination made more powerful by its sheer unlikeliness. Surely, Flavor Flav could see this day coming when he selected the Red and Black jumpsuit for the off-stage interludes. Tomorrow, Bulldog fans, heed Chuck D's advice. Bring the noise! It's not like we've waited since 1983 for this day to come. 


Go. Dawgs.