I thought it might be time to mention that all is not right in the world of music. Sometimes I cringe at the thought of turning on the radio or opening one of my favorite music blogs to read about what is going on. Yesterday came what has to be one of the final straws. Largehearted Boy has posted an mp3 link (warning: I'm not responsible for the crap that will come out of your speakers if you click on this link) of the Counting Crows covering California Stars. If you're not familiar with the original, it would be reason enough to reinstall Kazaa and grab it. I remember hearing the song for the first time. The wife and I were on the final leg of our journey to San Diego in 1998. The desert doesn't offer many choices as far as radio goes, and we'd pretty much gone through our CD collection on the way out here. Somewhere around El Centro, we started picking up a Spanish language station playing gringo musica progressiva. And that's where I first heard Tweedy's voice singing a before unheard song. I guess it would kind of become the anthem of my first few months in San Diego.
Now the Counting Crows are covering it. Oddly enough, I was just in a conversation about the buzzards a few weeks ago. I don't have much positive to say about them; in fact, the only thing that comes to mind when I hear the name is that the lead singer has fake dreads so I mentioned this in the conversation. At the time, I felt that it was probably just an urban legend that had survived all of these years (probably spawned from the same source as the Stevie Nicks having coke blown up her arse by her personal assistant). Anyway, I did a quick google search and was relieved to find out that not only is this legend true, but it is something that Mr. Crow admitted and is proud of:
He's a nest of paradoxes. The fake dreads that made him finally feel he looked like his self-image. The craving for fame on "Mr. Jones", from the first album, followed by the very vocal shying-away from it. The American rock god/poet born to working class, Russian-Jewish parents. The intelligent and articulate former English student who claims he had a year-long bad acid flashback in his early teens that rendered him incapable of speech and basic functions. The Basquiat-U-Like singer who emotionally berates his live audience with repeated cries of "Don't waste your life like I do mine!", yet has a life - in terms of both creativity and rewards - that they (especially here in the two-paces-behind Midwest) would kill for.
Truly, enough said.
Because I don't want to leave you with a sour note ringing in your ears, I'll give you some good Wilco news. Not only is the band planning a spring release for their follow-up to Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, but Jeff Tweedy will be putting out a book of poetry. I can assure all of you that rushed out to buy the Jewel poetry collection and have regretted it ever since that Tweedy has at least some experience writing verse. I'm willing to give it a try.
posted by Jeff 1/13/2004
