Bill Withers was working in a factory when he wrote this song, and it catapulted him into a new and illustrious career in music. Lucky for us.
I remember hearing this song at a very young age. It’s one of those songs that just invades you and stays with you. Which is good, because you can use it to help you when you’re missing someone, something which, unfortunately, happens much too often in life.
Some people have comfort foods. I have comfort music. And this is savory stuff.
Oh how I love the album “Ancient Heart” by Tanita Tikaram. It was a great friend during some hard times.
I adore this track, but I’ve never analyzed the lyrics or tried to determine its exact subject. I don’t think I ever really wanted to. Or needed to. I could absorb and interpret what I needed.
What I needed was its empathy. The relentless ache and anxiety that resonated so deeply at the time. Just to know that there was at least ONE other person out there that felt the same thing. A shoulder to lean on, to steady me.
Good music can do that for you.
(thanks to Diaboldik2 for the YouTube upload with lyrics, which I guess could force me to analyze the meaning now….)
This is one of those tracks that just digs deep down into your soul and stays with you forever. The song was written by Prince, truly a legendary musician and composer, but this version by Sinead O’Connor just knocks my socks off. It’s mesmerizing, haunting, and just lingers in the air, like the scent of jasmine on a rainy day.
I hope you get a chance to explore Ms. O’Connor’s music. Her voice is remarkably expressive, ranging from wistful longing to piercing anger. The album from which this track comes, “I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got,” is fantastic, but I particularly like her prior album “The Lion and the Cobra,” with great tracks like “Jerusalem,” “Mandinka,” and “Drink Before the War.”
Ms. O’Connor is a fierce and outspoken person, and she stirred up quite the controversies in her early career, showing courage a lot of artists just don’t have. If I were a young woman looking for role models, she would be on the short list.
Today would have been your grandmother’s 68th birthday. I wanted to post a song that I identify strongly with her memory, and this is one of the first ones I thought of. It wasn’t actually easy, as your grandmother really liked music and always had a small but impressive record collection. Whenever I hear this song, whether performed by Joni Mitchell, who wrote it, or performed by Judy Collins, who had a big hit covering it in the late 1960’s, I think of your grandma.
This song is a perfect gem, a classic. And the meaning of the song evolves with you as you mature, as you gain more of life’s wonderful (and not-so-wonderful) experience. If you ever decide to write some of your own songs, you would do well to study Joni Mitchell’s records.
“But now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I’ve changed
Well something’s lost, but something’s gained
In living every day.”
Your grandma instilled in me a love for music. Maybe I can pass that on to you, as something of a legacy. From her to you.
This track is from Julee Cruise’s debut album, “Floating into the Night,” an absolutely otherworldly collection of ethereal gems. The music itself comes from composer Angelo Badalamenti, best known for scoring films by director David Lynch. In fact, the music for this track was the theme to Lynch’s groundbreaking television series, “Twin Peaks.”
I love Ms Cruise’s gentle voice and straightforward singing style. It fits Badalamenti’s music perfectly. When you need to get out of your own head, away from all the petty problems of the day, you can turn to this record for solace. Lord knows I have. Many times.
At the core of most popular music is the song. It’s like the script for a movie. If you don’t have a good song, well, you don’t have much to work with. A lot of popular music has pretty mediocre songs, or downright stupid songs. So I really appreciate people like Freedy Johnston. Mr. Johnston is an amazing songwriter, and his music should be required reading (listening?) for any aspiring songwriters.
This is the title track from a truly superb album. The topics and lyrics are simple, direct, and will break your heart if you open it up enough to listen. Yet the music is very uplifting, deceiving the listener at first.
Take this track, which I think is about a dying father wanting to say goodbye to a daughter who hates him for something he’d done long ago. Now, you have to understand that I was soaking up this album years before I even knew I would have my own daughter, so there’s nothing particularly applicable to our relationship. Not so far, anyway. But now that I am a father, this song takes on even more meaning for me. It’s a stark warning to me to never, ever let anything damage our relationship.
“Now I’ve gone around it’s far too late
And these pills won’t even let me cry
No one knows you even when you’re gone
But I still deserve to say goodbye
No matter what I’ve done”
If you’re lucky, you’ll find artists who make music that really resonates deep within you. The Cure is one of mine. Maybe it’s the darker themes, or the somber, ethereal music. Maybe it’s Robert Smith’s plaintive singing, another voice in an otherwise lonely room. Or maybe it’s because this music entered my life at a time I really needed it, staying with me through my life.
Not all of their music is so melancholy. They also have upbeat, even joyful songs. I think all of their records are worth checking out. There is a lot to love there.
The Cure is often called a “goth” band. As if you needed to wear black clothing and eyeliner to be a “real” fan. Well, I can say they had at least one big fan prone to wearing Van Halen t-shirts and tan corduroys from Sears.
(thanks to susanswan for the nice imagery and upload to YouTube)
Hank Williams was another legend of American music. Not “just” a country legend, but a cornerstone of much of the music we hear today. It may sound kind of raw to our modern ears, maybe a little simplistic, but that’s what makes it so profound. While other composers of the day were using clever word play, or stretching metaphors to their limits, Mr. Williams could shoot right to the heart of the matter, literally for fans like me.
Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves begin to die
That means he’s lost the will to live
I’m so lonesome I could cry
If you’re not careful, this song will break your heart. Sixty years after it was composed.
You really can’t go wrong with a Bonnie Raitt album. She’s been making great music for a long time, with a firm foundation in the blues (I practically learned how to play the guitar to her 1982 album, “Green Light,” so you can blame her for all the noise). This track, dominated by piano and keyboards, is not typical for her. Usually her music showcases her impressive chops on the guitar, but in this track Ms Raitt just lets her earthy voice and the stunning piano-centric arrangement (with Bruce Hornsby) speak for themselves.
This song is almost too much to bear. It’s achingly sad and heartbreaking, and there is a divine beauty to it. A hint at redemption, of final self-awareness. A chance to admit it’s over, making a new day and a fresh start just a little more possible.
One of the guys who wrote this song, Mike Reid, used to play on the defensive line of the Cincinnati Bengals. I’m guessing a large guy. A large “jock,” a type of person I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve underestimated before. It reminds me that you can’t judge the depth of a person with your eyes alone. Sometimes you have to listen for it.
