#19: Hold Me Down -- The Gin Blossoms (1992)

The Gin Blossoms are in the bargain bin with the Spin Doctors: early 1990s bands that did not survive the deluge of Seattle bands. There is a tragic twist to the Blossoms, however. Doug Hopkins, the lead guitarist and songwriter, killed himself in December of 1993.

The other members booted him from the band because of his alcohol addiction. The band fired Hopkins in 1992......about three months before his song "Hey Jealousy" landed at #1, which seems very cruel, even for the Popular Music Gods. Why is New Miserable Experience such a great album? It is loaded with great songs with great pop hooks. Hopkins wrote bad ass pop songs with a lot of pathos. Hold Me Down is a perfect example.

This song is the best-written exploration of addiction that I have ever heard. Great hook, but also smacks you in the face with this right off the bat:

So I guess I must have just been dreaming

When I thought I heard myself say no

Anyway it looks like no one heard me so here I go

Cause when you're in the company of strangers

Or those strangers you call friends

You know before you start just how its gonna end.

Anyone who has ever been addicted to anything has been right there. I have problems with alcohol, just like my dad did. And that first exhilarating taste of anything is wonderful. Beer number one is a great thing; nice and refreshing. In the back of the mind, however, you know damn well that you can't have one when four, five or more will do. I can stop that sometimes, but not all the time. 

As Hopkins realized, you do know before it starts just how it is going to end. And it usually does not make any difference. This can be said for people as well as drugs or anything else that we must have. The first song on this album can be seen as a bookend to this, wth lyrics such as

I'll drink enough of anything
To make this world look new again

Or

She had nothing left to say so she said she loved me
And I stood there grateful for the lie

Think about that; knowing someone is lying, but being grateful because the other conversation is far more painful to contemplate much less take part in. People take to drugs, alcohol and other things many times because they find themselves in trouble if they do not face the world warped. That's why the strangers are friends; they can't see the balled up shitshow that you are hiding in the booze bottle. That's the real you; good forbid you put that half formed thing out in front of the world to be mocked and ridiculed. What saves? Drugs!

I can't remember why I like this feeling 
When it always seems to let me down

So remember when those doors swing open 
And the drinks are passed around
When half the party moves into the bathroom
Hold me down

Most don't like the feeling. If I learned anything from living with and dealing with an alcoholic father, the switch flipped at a certain point from "moderately funny" to "mean". Every drunk I know has that switch; it lets people down because it opens the gates to the worst place imaginable. No, not a Coldplay concert, but remorse. Imagine someone boozing to get away from themselves, then feeling shitty because they feel like they have to get away from themselves. This is not to escape responsibility for actions; they know full well what is going on. It's another log on the fire.

I wish that my dad (along with me sometimes) felt comfortable enough to open up. I'm learning; it has just taken me some 30 years to figure out how. Now the habits need to change. My dad never got the chance. By the time I was 12, my dad was 56 years old, and had probably been drinking at least five beers a day for 15 years, and a functioning alcoholic for another twenty before that. He'd smoked since he as 11, and did until he died. He was one of the unhappiest people I ever met. 

#18: Spirit of the Radio -- Rush (1980)

Begin the day with a friendly voice
A companion unobtrusive.

What strikes me is the continuing change in what is termed "Classic rock" and "oldies". The Rush song addresses radio from the 1970s and 1980s.. I am writing this while listening to Spotify, a service which records your listening preferences and cuts out the chaff. In other words, I can listen to the "Classic Rock" sound of Rush without hearing the "Classic Rock" sound of Eddie Money and Journey. I don't want your two tickets to your City by the Bay. I'd rather listen to East Bay Ray.

I'll meditate on three parts of this song.

Part the First

Off on your way hit the open road
There is magic at your fingers

The Road Trip is one of the vital things that every person must do between the ages of 16 and 30. Of course, we do this now with MP3 and the occasional DVD playing in the built in players or satellite radio. All of which (except for the DVD; if you are not with kids, look out the window at the countryside) is fine, but it does not get at the heart of the road trip: the quest to find decent music after you have listened to that tape of the Spin Doctors for the 11th time and you can't find anything else but Tom Petty's Wildflowers and God Help You If You Actually Want To Listen To That. (That was 1992, kids!)

What will be the next song played on the radio? Back in my day playing next five artists, the top choices were always Zeppelin, Beatles, Stones, Foreigner and Journey. Or possibly Fleetwood Mac. If you got college radio, you could be safe picking The Smiths, REM and if you wanted to be cool The Replacements. Now, classic rock is Nirvana and Men at Work. The Stones are still rolling but need to be heavily pushed lest they fall into.............oldies. When I was a kid, Elvis (young, not sequined) was oldies, along with Chuck Berry and the Everly Brothers. In  twenty years, Nirvana will be oldies and Chuck Berry will be largely forgotten.

One difficulty is that "Classic Rock" in the 1980s encompassed not simply the Titans (Stones, Beatles, The Who). It also included lesser known Invasion Bands (Dave Clark Five), Motown (The Four Tops, Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell, Martha and the Vandellas), One Hit Wonders (Lemon Pipers, the immortal Strawberry Alarm Clock), San Francisco bands (Jesus, some of these stations played MOBY GRAPE along with The Dead) and bands That Everyone Should be Made to Listen To (The Kinks, Big Brother and the Holding Company, The Mothers of Invention, The Supremes and Sly and the Family Stone). In other words, they may have played the same few songs from these bands, but there were more than 6 or 7 bands being played. There is a lot of music out there being forgotten; this is shameful.

Part the Seconde

Emotional feedback on timeless wavelengths
Bearing a gift beyond price, almost free

There was always something special to me about listening to the radio when I was a teenager (and younger, for that matter). It did give you emotional feedback; in a time period of very raw emotions, hearing something that featured hope/better times got me going. The opening of this song kicks ass; clear, resonant guitar, understated (for him) drums and Geddy's usual strong baseline. It all adds up to something that demands a listen.

I listened to everything I could get my hands on, and still like a lot of 1980s bands against my better judgment. I listened to a wide spectrum of things, but was lucky to have a way to listen to the older artists who influenced the people I listened to. When The Jam covered "David Watts", I knew it was a song by the Kinks. When Rush referenced words on the Studio Wall, I heard Sound of Silence. There are always connections within rock music. Hearing the connections was easier in the 1980s because there was soo much more selection. Now, it is simply the Classic 1980s and 1990s Buffet of about 8 items. If Eddie Money is the soft serve at the end of the hour of rock classics, then Journey is the steamed veggies, Nirvana is the met dish and if they serve breakfast at all there might be Whitney Dancing with Somebody. Which would be awesome, cause that song holds up.

The 1980s were quite an interesting decade for rock. Dinosaurs still roamed the earth while the small furry creatures that would take over the music scene in the 1990s ran to and fro. You could find something that you liked; don't like the format of this station? They may have a show that you do like, or the other station has better DJs that don't talk over the songs.


Part the Thirde

One likes to believe in the freedom of music
But glittering prizes and endless compromises
Shatter the illusion of integrity.

Who cares about prizes? My favorite band, Jethro Tull, is most known for Aqualung and for winning the Grammy for Best Heavy Metal Album in 1989. Sheesh. I admit it that I sort of liked Ian Anderson's mocking of Metallica at the time, but he knew that award was bull shit; he said that "we were nice people who had never won a grammy before so they gave us one."The problem is that everyone looked at the award as the coronation  of  Metallica as the best "metal band". Well, that's BS as well. ...And Justice for All was a good album, but Master of Puppets (1986) was better and Ride the Lightning (1984) was just as good. Anyone who had been listening to them knew how good they were.

Who won the best Rock Album grammy for 1987? Steve Winwood. Winwood is one of the best vocalists in rock history (listen to "Gimme Some Lovin" or "I'm a Man" by Spencer Davis and think how that English White Boy got that voice) but "Back in the High Life" sucks. Don't chase prizes.

To see Nirvana in Paris in February of 1994, it cost 150 Francs. The opening act? The Buzzcocks. Just let me say

HELL YES!

<cough> Anyway, in 1994 dollars, this is $30.14 and in 2014 dollars, this is $48.10 according to measuringworth.com. Want to go see The Scorpions and Queensryche at the SAP Arena on October 1 (actually, I mean, how....Jesus!). The cheap upper deck seats are between $38 and $46.

Still, that was out of my price range in 1994 and still, with parking and two people, the Scorpions show is over $100 bucks. No thanks. Weeknd at The Oracle next month is $50 for the cheap seats; Madonna is at $55. Granted, some of this is Ticketmaster's fault. But, still. At least it's cheaper to take your kids to see Miley Cyrus than it is to go see an NFL game. If you are a Niners fan, I am not sure which would be the bigger waste of money.

As far as compromises, there are many sages who could say it better than I can. I direct you to "Joe's Garage" or "Have a Cigar" or The Fugs getting kicked off of Capitol Records because of their song "Wet Dream".  This was 1968; I don't think it was because it was a song about a wet dream, but because it was a song about the Homecoming Queen sitting on the narrators' face after the prom. Wonderful!

#17: Subdivisions -- Rush

This song is about the terrible suburbs that many folks found themselves in in the 1980s, but it also carries several other meanings. In Latin, suburbs is from the word subura, meaning "below the city" as it was the area between the seven hills of Rome. The poor folks and the huddled masses lived there, which is achingly true of the 1980s experience for white teenagerdom of which I was a part.

Sprawling on the fringes of the city
In geometric order
An insulated border
Between the bright lights
And the far unlit unknown

The bright lights get the attention, but growing up in Iowa it was the far unlit unknown that was the true scary place. What lay out in the areas beyond Hills and North Liberty? Nowadays those places might as well be part of Iowa City; the tentacles of Cedar Rapids and the University of Iowa grow closer and closer together. No more small town tirades or trips to the Casey's for pizza and illegal booze and smokes. The sinister names of roads that led into the cornfields (Seven Sisters Road, Old Highway 218) are now streets with Whole Foods and crummy overpriced sports bars.

The disappearance of the "unlit unknown" does not matter for those on both coasts who live in the bright lights. If anything, they are far more worried about the gentrification of poor neighborhoods, and not concerned about the destruction of the poor neighborhoods of those who work the land and have the ill fortune not to be poor in an urban area.

Lit up like a firefly
Just to feel the living night

We of the middle of this country go to cities because that is where the jobs are. My brothers and I are the first generation of my family to not live on a farm. I do not bemoan this, I celebrate it. Farming is damn hard work that I do not want. Towns and cities provide jobs and the ability to have a damn good time. Having lived in a small town (Dallas City, IL, population 1000) the business that everyone knows you is true. The tale that everyone is friendly is not. The mechanic was very friendly to me because I had a piece of shit car that kept breaking down. The gas station lady was friendly to me because I was the only person in town that bought Oil Cans of Fosters.

Suburbs grew because of the perception that our childhoods were idyllic. The perception that large cities could not possibly be a safe environment for children or families. I would argue that Dallas City was far less safe for a child than some large cities. Yes, there may not be gangs on the street or molesters hanging from the trees. However, there would not be a meth lab six houses down, nor a 20-minute bus ride to the nearest school. There would also not be any jobs, care for the elderly or medical services that did not require a 10-15 minute wait. These things are routinely complained about in San Francisco and Oakland. The perception is that this is an urban problem. In reality, it is a class problem. As professionals move from these places, the tax base drops. Services disappear.

Add 'em all up, and you have the death of middle America; not the middle of American geography, but the death of middle-class America. This began happening in Iowa in the 1970s with the death of the family farm, just like it happened in the 1970s with the closing of factories in the Rust Belt. The middle class jobs disappeared, pushing out the kids of middle class parents to the suburbs of places like Chicago, Toronto, San Francisco, Seattle, Dallas, Houston, Phoenix. My hometown will never die because of the University of Iowa. Burlington has lost 20.6% of its population since 1960. Vista Bakery and Champion Spark Plug are still there, but the largest employer is Great River Medical Center. 12.6% of the population were age 65 or older according to the 2000 census. In 2013, that percentages is estimated at 18.3.

Some will sell their dreams for small desires
Or lose their race to rats
Get caught in clicking traps
And start to dream of somewhere
To relax their restless flight
Somewhere out of a memory of lighted streets on quiet nights

 Places like Dallas City do not change because they are in that slow shambling drift toward  invisibility. They are already irrelevant, except for photo ops.  Factory closes? Well, it had to happen because it was inefficient. School shuts down? Well, we will still provide quality services for you children in the next town down the highway. Meth or heroin epidemic? Well, our drug programs are very successful! Mass shooting? (Insert politician in front of building, and they will say "We are shocked and saddened by this senseless tragedy.")

Nowhere is the dreamer or the misfit so alone

All the dreamers and misfits work for Google and Apple now. Their God is Mammon, and you will know them by their actions and Limousine Liberalism.

#16 Dirty Jobs -- The Who

Ahhhhhhh, Quadrophenia. One of the first Who tapes I bought included the song 5:15, but I had no idea what album it was on. That tape also had the song “love Reign o’er me”, a song I absolutely hated. And still do, for that matter. One thing that has constantly hit me about a lot of my musical taste is that I cannot escape from is my initial reaction to songs stays with me because of my mental state when I heard the song first.

                With Quadrophenia, the songs that typify John Entwistle (Dr. Jimmy) and Keith Moon (Bell Boy) always spoke to me for some reason. Most likely because I was a completely angry, 13 year old. I had no ideas of mods and rockers, scooters and seersucker. All I knew was that these songs (as well as The Real Me)hit me in the sweet spot of anger.  But there was one song that made a difference, and it is still my favorite song on the album.

I’m getting put down

I’m being pushed ‘round

I’m being beaten every day

My life is waiting

Things are changing

These are powerful words for a 12 year old, especially one in an abusive household. Incredibly powerful words. I could never get it out of my head in junior high that there was much more to life than what I was seeing and putting up with. I thought about running away several times, but where would I go? The only other place I knew well (well 2 other places) were Montrose, Iowa and Mountainburg, Arkansas.

 Hell, at that point I knew I had a brother named Garry who worked at the T&M Mighty Mart, but I did not know where he lived. I had no damn idea how to get to either of those other places, besides going south via Hwy 218.  By the time I was about 13, dad had become relatively manageable. Meaning I knew how to avoid him and everyone else I did not want to meet. Usually, that meant going to the 7-11 and indulging in Super Big Gulps and Super Mario Brothers or Excitebike. Damn Nintendo.

On a side note, I was so excited when I moved to the west coast and found 7-11s still extant! I love 7-11. LOVE IT! I instantly bought a Horchata Big Gulp in Watsonville, CA and felt sick for two days. I don’t care. It was awesome and I would do it again. At some point age and experience will win with me, but not yet.

But that song. It’s about a bunch of folks who have odd jobs: bus driver, pig farmer, etc. It is also about age and experience, class and children.  In the context of the album, it serves a sort of bridge function, shuffling identities across the span of time taken in the songs. It is not musically a standout of the album, certainly not up to par with “Punk Meets the Godfather”, “The Real Me”, “Sea and Sand” and others. It is not lyrical, nor it is brutal. It is matter of fact:

I am a man who drives the local bus

I take miners to work but the pits are closed today

It’s easy to see that you are one of us

Ain’t it funny how we all seem to look the same?

Quodrophenia is an album about clothes, styles and identity, and for my money this is the most brilliant lyric on the album. This man, driving a bus, engages in the same type of judgment as the mods:

My jacket’s gonna be cut slim and checked

Maybe a touch of seersucker with an open neck

The Bellboy:

I’m on the job and I’m newly born

You should see me dressed up in my uniform

I work in a ‘otel, all gilt and flash

Remember that place whose doors we smashed????

But what the bus driver is talking about is far deeper. It is that look in the eyes of the defeated, the downtrodden. Those who have little hope for the future and little love for their past, meaning that the present is just more shit that is hopeless and unloved, an outlook that poisons lives.  The miners look the same in uniform, when they come out of the pit and when they go to get pissed on a weekend; the mods and rockers, wearing more authentic uniforms than the miners can afford or the man on the job, dress differently in their similarity. They work with a palate of designs not their own.

The payoff is this, though:

Just like a child, I’m seeing only dreams

I’m all mixed up, but I know what’s right.

For a 12-13 year old, this was eye opening. It still is; even if we cannot choose what is right, we know what it is.  After we choose, there is the remnant. In my experience, it is guilt over choosing the incorrect or easy path. For others, it is choosing the correct or right one only to be treated poorly. Some win, some keep on as before. For those of us with guilt (and I do not mean Catholic guilt; I mean noxious self-imposed guilt) it colors our lives.  We know what is right; in our dreams we are always right. But we see only dreams because every move we make is wrong. Sometimes this extends past ourselves into disappointing the ones that we love (which is very painful) but most times it is just ourselves that we see as failing to live up to those dreams. And so we continue to the next day to dream and fail again; occasionally we get past our own expectation of failure, but because they are simple and our own, they are not noticed.

I’m not gonna sit and weep again.

Again, Townsend captures the anger. Not outward, but inward. The worst kind. 

#15: You Ain't Going Nowhere -- Shawn Colvin, Mary Chapin Carpenter and Rosanne Cash (1992)

This is a Dylan song that I heard for the first time in junior high (8th grade or thereabouts) when I put my brothers copy of The Byrd's Sweetheart of the Rodeo on his turntable. It was country, and I liked the song, but it did not make that much of an impact on me. When I heard this recording from the 30th Anniversary CD that Rachel bought, it blew me away.

The lyrics have always appealed to me. Looking forward to good times and discarding the rough times, Dylan writes get your mind off wintertime/you ain't going nowhere. This could be a veiled warning or an expression that you will stay in summer. I've tended to read it as the latter. But then,  I suppose I am an optimist. This may be quite surprising to some people, but those who know me best would probably agree that I am. Dylan wrote this song at a time when he was recovering from his motorcycle accident in 1966. I ran into this song when I was in Iowa City, struggling through a third unproductive year of crap at the University.

I am particularly drawn to the lyric strap yourself to a tree with roots/you ain't goin nowhere. Perhaps it is a different song if a woman is singing it; the more I think about it, the difference between Graham Parsons and Colvin, Carpenter and Cash lay in the nexus of belief, trust and control. Belief and trust are two very different things. We can have both in ourselves, but it means so much more when someone else has those things in us. It gives us power to do things that we never thought possible.

One thing that I complain about with the current crop of students that I deal with is this. They believe in themselves, yet constantly need affirmation. Maybe this is due to parents who moan about AP classes and assorted crap. OMG! MY CHILD GOT A 3 ON THE AP EURO TEST! parents, don't treat your children like receptacles of failure, but don't kiss their asses either. There is a balance to be struck to forge adults.

The last verse purposefully does not rhyme, in that


Genghis Khan could not keep
All his general supplied with sleep
We'll climb that hill no matter how steep
When we get up to it

Right on. The message of this song is to take what you have, be purposefully happy with it, and go on. Problems are in the future, and some of those you will never have dreamed of in 1000 years. Climb 'em when you get there; if you worry about how things should be, you will never see the hill that gives you meaning.

I am not a parent, and I do not know what being a parent entails. My father was less a dad to me than my brother was. My mother was caring and very supportive but maintained a distance that I am still uncomfortable with. They did the best job possible for them, and I have my own problems. Those problems are my own; some roots are with my folks, but

Get your mind off wintertime
You ain't goin' nowhere

The wintertime is cold, colorless. It is not dead; there is life beneath that crust. The past is truly dead, but we keep it alive through our choices. As I am over 40, I am just beginning to realize this and desperately working to bend the passages my former choices produced. We all get there, it just takes some people longer if they get the chance. We need to help them notice the chances. When we see those chances, and people taking them, there is cause for celebration.

Oh oh, are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!


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