My Music Journal 2025 - January 11, 2025

 

Saturday, January 11, 2025

Time: 10:30 AM
Song: Make Your Own Mistakes
Artist: Wilder Woods
Mode of Consumption: Spotify –Playlist Theme for 2023 songs titled, “Here are 10 songs, ah, ah, ah.” 

Links: https://open.spotify.com/track/67bxthwmGTJsZxx0AkZ1J2?si=dc3bf066a333439a

Spending the morning writing a story for a contest. We receive a prompt where we pick one of five characters provided, one of five settings provided, and must include a well. I have a week to write a 3,000-word story. 

My first attempt I am going with the following: 

1.     A journalist.

2.     A tavern that also rents out a few rooms. 

And I get to fit a well in there somewhere. 

Hopefully, it leads somewhere because there’s nothing more demoralizing than getting halfway through one of these things and realizing the story isn’t going anywhere. We’ll see. I thought I’d share the first few paragraphs I wrote this morning:

--

The screen door slapped shut, the aluminum smacking against the old dried wood frame. A mutt limped toward Jason from the barn across a gravel farm yard. Its ears pressed flat to its skull, eyes focused on the ground two feet ahead of its paws, and fur, brown and matted, grown thick for the winter. Probably the only one here willing to answer questions.

Jason tucked his notebook under his armpit, sliding his pen into a pocket inside his jacket before zipping it all the way to his throat, wanting to cover more, so he could cover his face and head like a turtle disappearing into a shell. A safe place to stay warm, to hide. That kind of sentiment would earn him the moniker of snowflake around these parts. He’d be okay being that, too. A glorious fall to the earth before melding with brethren and then melting. And then nothing. Nothing can be easier than something.

“Mr. Tuttle,” the voice made him jump. The speaker didn’t apologize or even acknowledge frightening him. Alice Vole wearing a faded flowered house dress with her hair pressed and straight at the sides, the skin of her face hanging in a similar lifeless droop. “We’d appreciate not having to talk to you again.” 

My Music Journal 2025: January 10, 2025

 

Friday, January 10, 2025

Time: 1:30 PM
Song: Murder in My Heart for the Judge
Artist: Moby Grape
Mode of Consumption: Spotify – Playlist Pandemonium Playlist Theme “In Memoriam of Artists Lost in 2024.”

Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/3w4KpXGtlbJPf5gTq3GQPo?si=3910cc47e76240ca

I manage a Facebook group that compiles a playlist each week based off a common theme. Each person in the group is allowed to add three songs to the list each week, and then I post the playlist via link to Spotify on Fridays. 

This song was one of my three picks for the week. It was written by Jerry Miller, who passed away in July of 2024. He was an American songwriter, guitarist and vocalist, and a founding member of the 1960s San Francisco band Moby Grape. 

Before I go any farther, I have to admit, I had never heard of Moby Grape until a few years ago when their album titled “Wow” was in one of the vinyl lots I bought at an auction. I listened to the album, and while it was interesting, it was one I decided to resell. I think I put $10 on the album, and it sold the first time I had it at a sale. Subsequently, I have had luck selling other copies of Moby Grape’s albums. So, I have decided they are one of those hip bands that hipsters who like vinyl like to buy. Good for them and good me. 

Discovering groups like this is one of best parts of collecting vinyl the way that I do. While I know a lot of popular music, there is a bunch out there featuring good tunes and usually betters stories.

Every time I research something on Moby Grape, I find something interesting. Here are a couple items of note:  

The band name comes from a bad joke: “What’s big and purple and lives in the ocean?” 

All members of the five-piece band were songwriters and lead singers. Two of those members had mental illness issues, causing the band’s first breakup in 1969. 

On their wiki page there is this quote from music critic Jeff Tamarkin: “The Grape’s saga is one of squandered potential, absurdly misguided decisions, bad luck, blunders and excruciating heartbreak, all set to the tune of some of the greatest rock and roll ever to emerge from San Francisco. Moby Grape could have had it all, but they ended up with nothing, and less” 

My Music Journal 2025 - Thursday, January 9, 2025

 

Time: 5:41 PM
Song: Lullaby 
Artist: Shawn Mullins
Mode of Consumption: MP3 – Driving between Princeton and Dixon, IL listening to MP3s on shuffle from my phone.

Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/70L4pGAmYv0pTADrgsIxpI?si=6d42308a32d346fa

We’re coming back from Springfield, and Ty mentions this is a good song for him since most of it is spoken word. 

I think back to a different car ride about twenty-plus years earlier when this song was playing. 

It was a cold night, probably January or February, and I was driving a new girlfriend across Sterling. I don’t remember where we were coming from or where we were going. I imagine a group of us had or were going out to eat on a Friday or Saturday night, and that was the reason for the trip. It was probably one of the first times we’d been alone, at least alone in a situation where talking was the only option. 

“Lullaby” came on and she mentioned liking the song. I don’t know if I said anything. I remember liking the song, but also that it was reaching a point of oversaturation on popular music radio stations, so I might have been getting tired with it. 

I don’t remember being nervous, or tired, or anything. I just remember not having anything to say. Clearly, she didn’t know what else to say either. We had reached an impasse. 

The reality is that I am quiet person. I don’t talk for the sake of talking. I might have been thinking about the song for all I remember. About the parties with Bob Seger and Sonny and Cher. I might have wanted to just sing along, but wasn’t that comfortable with this girl yet to sing in front of her. It’s possible I was thinking about a hundred of other things in my head, and frankly, wasn’t interested in finding out her opinion on them. 

Or, I was just driving and not thinking. I remember the ride, but not what was going through my head.

Either way she noticed the quiet and drew a conclusion. I think I even got a message in the days following through a friend that she wanted me to talk more. Well, that just wasn’t me, and shortly thereafter, I was back on the dating market. (Not really, dating just wasn’t that high a priority for me as a teenager). 

But I often wonder, what if I had something to say that night? Because, even as a quiet person, I do get in moods for witty banter or heartfelt conversation. Would that have made a difference? 

Would we have dated months instead of weeks? Years instead of months? 

I don’t believe it was a relationship destined for the long haul, but what ripples could that have caused, what different steps in my path.

Would I have ended up on a road between Princeton and Dixon in 2025 listening Shawn Mullins again? 

 

My Music Journal 2025 - Wednesday, January 8, 2025

 

Wednesday, January 8, 2025

Time: 3:38 PM
Song: Give Peace a Chance  
Artist: John Lennon
Mode of Consumption: MP3 – Drive to Springfield listening to MP3s on shuffle from my phone.

Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/5waa9MNixv8LTvb7I71V3x?si=54c8510cb9b84d69

When the song shuffles on, I think to myself, you know I used to like this song, but I could hit skip now and feel OK about it. 

“Did Yoko write this one,” my co-worker Ty asked about halfway through? “Not a lot of content here.” 

It’s almost reassuring to know that people still lean on blaming Yoko whenever they hear something from John Lennon or the Beatles that they don’t like. I don’t think it’s necessarily fair to her, but old jokes are like old dogs, sometimes it’s just nice to see them again. 

The song certainly came about during the height of the John-Yoko experience, and it is unique in that it was a solo song released while the Beatles were still together in 1969. The song was released as part of the couple’s Bed-In honeymoon in Montreal. 

The thing that caught Ty’s attention is that other than a couple short versus in the first half the song, it basically repeats the chorus “All we are saying is give peace a chance” over and over for the entirety of the four minutes and fifty-two seconds of the run time. 

The most likely explanation is that Lennon and Ono wanted the message to be simple and clear, and that repeating it was the most logical way of doing it. When I first encountered the song as a child, I think that worked. Like I said, I remembered liking this song. At the time of its release,it probably was also an effective device. 

The repetition is also something Lennon did from time to time – the song Revolution No. 9 – comes to mind. So, while maybe Yoko had influence, I think John probably said let’s just keep singing it. 

It just doesn’t age all that well. Now, it seems to drag on for a minute or so too long, and I wish there was at least one more verse to break things up. 

That’s the problem with repetition in song and writing, it can be purposeful, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that it works.

My Music Journal 2025 - January 7, 2025

Tuesday, January 7, 2025

Time: 7:55 AM
Song: Shaky Town 
Artist: Jackson Browne
Mode of Consumption: MP3 – Drive to work listening to MP3s on shuffle from my phone.

Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/0PcqEMaEUepcTrPGemOFfd?si=e052c2e5fd414624

“That’s a big ten-four,” Jackson Browne sings.

While I had heard that phrase mostly in TV shows depicting truckers, it wasn’t one I used until I started my job at ASE at the end of 2015. My boss, Tom, uses 10-4 in his emails frequently, and it’s something that I have adopted in my communications.

Vernacular is like that. We all speak like the people around us. When that environment changes, new words appear in daily conversation and others fall by the wayside.

I remember in junior high in the mid-90s, Beavis and Butthead became popular. At that point, I didn’t have a cable or satellite dish TV, so I never actually watched the show, but I didn’t have to. Dozens of kids just started talking in the characters’ clipped, weird cadence to the point that I am sure I slipped into the lingo, too.

During my college years, I worked third shift at National Manufacturing during the summers with a small group of guys. They had a habit of making a strange collection of sounds, not words really, randomly throughout the night. It’s hard to describe in writing. By the end of each summer, I had grown accustomed to doing the same. Gradually, I lost that when I returned to school because the meaning was lost to others.

Since joining ASE, I’ve noticed other changes to my vocabulary. I use the phrase “I sense that…” and sometimes the word “Suss,” although that can be a bit of cheeky thing around these parts referring to a former co-worker. I am sure there were phrases that I used daily when I was reporting on sports, but none of those come to mind now.

This collage of people and experiences form the basis for my communication, so much of it scavenged along the way without my even realizing it. It’s something to consider when crafting characters and the things they say.

My Music Journal 2025 - January, 6, 2025

 

Monday, January 6, 2025

Time: 5:17 PM
Song: Ants Marching  
Artist: The Dave Matthews Band
Mode of Consumption: MP3 – Drive home from work listening to MP3s on shuffle from my phone.

Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/2FfZg072w8RoxlMOR7M4CT?si=6a35db6d52394d29

There’s an episode of the sitcom “Community,” which spoofs David Fincher thriller movies when the study group is working to save Greendale from the exploits of the “Ass-Crack Bandit,” an anonymous deviant who is terrorizing the campus by dropping quarters down the backside of unsuspecting bent over students and faculty. One of the few clues is that the perpetrator is a fan of Dave – that being The Dave Matthews Band. 

When Alex “Starburns” Osborne, a middle-aged student/drug dealer surfaces after it was assumed he had previously died in a car accident, he is collared as the bandit and the campus celebrates with a party. While lights flash, the music plays and, of course, it’s Dave.

“Wait, who is this?” Starburns asks. 

“Wait, what?” Jeff Winger, the leader of the study group and a former lawyer, responds. “You don’t know Dave.” 

Winger, of course, knows that they’ve been duped into believing that Starburns in the culprit, a classic plot twist. 

“Oh, yeah, I remember this,” Starburns said. “It’s from the 90s, it’s that guy that goes HE-Haw, He-HAAW.” 

I can’t hear Dave Matthews without hearing that impression of his singing. 

I received the album “Under the Table and Dreaming” in high school from my sister for my birthday. She chose it because it was the Matthews’ album that she most connected with. I’ve kept the CD, and while I enjoy this track and a few others, I’ve never grown into a huge Dave Matthews fan. 

Still, I hold onto this album, because I think I look for what my sister heard in it. That is the great part of receiving music from others, particularly albums and artists that I haven’t necessarily requested. I know there’s a reason they picked it. It’s my challenge to hear what they hear.

My Music Journal 2025 - January 5, 2025

 

Sunday, January 5, 2025

Time: 7:45 AM
Song: Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked 
Artist: Cage the Elephant
Mode of Consumption: Radio – Planet 93.9 FM on the way to church.

Song link: https://open.spotify.com/track/3Pzh926pXggbMe2ZpXyMV7?si=fbd2fbf10b624413

I’m riding passenger in our dark blue Ford F150 on a gray morning. I punch the button the dash that identifies songs being played on the radio.

“It’s Cage the Elephant,” Jodi said.

I’m not sure I even cared, I just like pushing the button and seeing the answer. It passes the time during our 10-minute trip to church.

My father-in-law once talked about having to learn that the church was also a business. He was on the church council for most of the last three decades of his life, holding the title of council president for many of those years in both official and unofficial capacities. The life of the congregation may be dependent upon the holy spirit, but it’s also reliant upon those willing to keep the books, to arrange contractors for maintenance of the building, mow the grass, print the bulletins, hire pastors, perform public relations, and so on and so forth.

I’m in my second year as treasurer for the church, a position I am not particularly interested in nor suited for, but which was bequeathed to me as there really isn’t anyone else left to do it. It really blows my mind when I think about how much I used to goof off in church during my youth, and now I balance the checkbook for the place. Lord, help us.

We go to a country church that once had weekly attendance over a hundred people in the seventies and eighties, but has been in steady decline since the 90s. We could write a novel on the reasons – Socio-economnic, political, religious shifts, and likely a few contentious decisions made by various folks that were put in charge of the “business” side of the church at various times.

We’re left with an average attendance in the teens with average age of congregates in the 70s. Jodi and I are the youngest of the regular attendees, and unless something changes, we’ll oversee the last days of this 150-year-old congregation.

That will be sad business. Sometimes it’s easier to just punch the button on the dash and see what song the radio station is playing than think about it.