I know you’ve been waiting patiently for part two of “Exile on Main St.” the title of which is now typed out correctly. Please, accept my apologies. Here’s my take – while side one fooled me into thinking this could be a good exercise record (remember I’m a little distracted), I could find nothing else to lead me to believe that making this a double record set was a good idea. The only word that come to mind to describe it is – muddy. I have nothing more to say, and so we shall move on to other Stones I know I like much better.
You know how I was grousing about the Grammys a while back, about the disappointing so-called Beatle reunion with Paul and Ringo? Well I had no idea they were planning last night’s tribute extravaganza, and I was not alone as I was far from the only grouser. I attended my friend’s wake yesterday, so this was a very special and pleasant diversion for me afterwards.
I loved most of it, but fortunately some of it gave me time to blow-dry my hair. I loved seeing Stevie Wonder doing his own 1970 cover of “We Can Work it Out,” I got misty watching Jeff Lynne and Joe Walsh, who both have Beatle ties, together with George Harrison’s son Dhani, doing George’s “Something.” I didn’t like Katy Perry’s version of “Yesterday” at first, but soon thought it was amazing. Imagine Dragon’s rockabilly rendition of “Revolution” was brilliant. But of course, you must realize that my favorite part was hearing the old stories from those that were in the Ed Sullivan Theater 50 years ago yesterday when the Beatles first appeared on Ed’s stage. Oh, and the stories Paul and Ringo told David Letterman right from that very same stage – I was hanging on every word. And then their performance, each separately and then together in a logical transition of Paul singing “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” leading into Ringo singing “With a Little Help From My Friends,” which is how it is done on the album, did not disappoint. Not in the least. So while there was no workout last night, there was a little exercise. I could not sit still. I wondered, for a moment, if my friend was watching this or an old episode of Columbo, which we had discovered at the same time was playing every Sunday night at 8 and would talk about. And in that moment I thought of calling her. I guess I’ll be doing that for a while.
And so, this is called Grammy Ramming tonight because I wanted to devote most of this post to the Grammy’s Beatles salute, and that wouldn’t be fair to The Rolling Stones and the second record of Exile on Main Street. So, I brought out Ram, which I actually had not put away from last time, and worked out to Paul.
We will have plenty of time to talk about the Stones, who, by the way, were not a big influence on my life. I gotta respect the boys for remaining upright, and for putting out a lot of good music. They are tenacious. The first disc of this two-record set gave me a good aerobic workout, even though it was short and Bette Midler had to again, add her two cents. She is coming in very handy, I must say. Whether this album makes it to the Ram alternative list is too soon to tell. I can’t decide now. Perhaps when we get to the second disc I’ll have a clearer head.
I just want to add that in times of sorrow, it is so comforting to have good friends and a pet. Everyone, including Max, has really been so supportive these past couple of days. I will not be working out tomorrow, and possibly the day after. Please bear with me.
Now, here we go. So it’s not the best workout album, but it is a mighty fine record. I first heard Bonnie Raitt sing “Women Be Wise” in the early 70s (Keep your mouth shut, don’t advertise your man). She was a young woman with a gritty, bluesy voice who played a slide guitar. She was a musician. She was cool. Then, nearly 20 years later, she bursts onto the scene with this album and hauled away a ton of Grammys. She only wrote the title song and the last one on the record, but covers a multitude of others artists’ songs, making each one of them her own. I just read that this spring she will join Bruce Springsteen and Don Henley on a tribute album to Jackson Browne. Very cool indeed. I’d pay tribute to Jackson Browne too if I could be sandwiched between those two.
At the Grammy’s the year that Bonnie Raitt won multiple awards, Bette Midler got one and excitedly got on stage and said, “Look Miss Bonnie Raitt, I got one too.” So to reunite Bonnie and Bette, I added the couple of Midler songs that I do to shorter albums, though this wasn’t one of them. I needed the extra workout tonight. I needed to work up a frenzied sweat, which for me doesn’t take that long. You know that saying “You look like you lost your best friend.” Well, I do, and I did. Just found out last night. Maybe I’ll write about it some other time, but not now.
I put on side four first before side three, as something about the title “And Settlin’ Down” sounded familiar, like maybe it was the other song I bought this album set for. But, it was merely familiar. I couldn’t find another tolerable side to combine with more than tolerable side one, so Poco is not even going to make it to the end of the list of Ram alternatives. Frankly, I doubt it will ever make an appearance again. I know it’s sad, but it’s too high-pitched and too twangy. As we get older and wiser, we try to overcome our prejudices. I’ve had more small ones than ones of any consequence, but I think I’ve done pretty well over the years. But some, well like my bias against Poco, remain intact. Whatever happens in the end, I don’t think I’ll be judged on whether I could learn to like Poco or not. Wouldn’t it be funny if I was?
Instead of adding the album cover again to this post, I am treating you all to a rather handsome photo of Max, taken by someone much more talented with a camera than I. Max was very helpful during tonight’s workout and deserves some recognition.
Oh, I don’t know why I have Poco, and it’s a double album to boot. Notice that we went right through the E’s without an Eagles album. It was just not my cup of tea, though I do have a few Don Henley tapes from his solo career, and I did see him in concert during his pony tail days. But there was that strong Eagles/Poco connection, and while there are a couple of songs from both that I like, I can’t imagine what prompted me to buy this record. I am writing this part before the workout and am predicted two nights of this sucks.
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Now after tonight’s workout, I’m happy to say I was half wrong, half right, so far and in that order. Side one made for a good aerobic workout, a darned good workout albeit a little short, but enjoyable. It’s probably my acceptance of other music genres over the years since high school that makes me appreciate the country flare of the songs. And plus, side one ends with “Good Feelin’ to Know,” which may be the song I bought the album set for. I do hope there’s at least one more. I couldn’t get into side two. The interesting thing is that Poco’s Jim Messina, who was with the Eagles at some time, and Timothy B. Schmidt, who joined the Eagles not long before they split up, but still plays with them when they reunite, both sing the Eagles’ songs that I do like, “Take it to the Limit” and “I Can’t Tell You Why,” respectively. And no, I don’t like “Hotel California.” Can’t explain it.
So, I liked exercising to side one of this record, and might consider it for the tail end of the Ram II list. I’m just not that crazy about it. But, I’ll do it. I’ll do it just for the loveliness of Timothy B. Schmidt’s hair (still), and if I can match it with one of the other sides yet to come. Well, we’ll just have to wait and see.
Happy Ground Hog Day! Punxsutawny Phil saw his shadow meaning six more weeks of winter. However, I just learned that in 25 years, Phil, or whoever is posing as Phil, has been correct 10 times and wrong 15.
How appropriate that tonight’s workout was to folk legends Peter, Paul and Mary less than a week after the great Pete Seeger’s passing. Folk is not the best music for exercising, but it’s not the worst. I just don’t know whose album this is. My father didn’t like that bebop music, which would include folk and rock, and it couldn’t have been my mother’s, I don’t think. She was a young suburban housewife and mother in her early 20s, and my father was 11 years older. I had asked her once why she never got into rock ‘n roll. She had been a bobby soxer screaming for Frank Sinatra, why didn’t she go for Elvis? And I knew she liked the Beatles. “It just wasn’t done,” was her reply, referring to the role of the young suburban housewife in the ‘50s and ‘60s. I always believed had she gotten into rock ‘n roll at some level, she would have been a much less conflicted person. That would leave my brother. I would think he was a little young for this album, and his name isn’t written on it as it is on so many others, but there’s no other option.
I remember seeing the trio on Ed Sullivan, but don’t recall anything about this album. But it does end with Gordon Lightfoot’s “For Loving Me.” Side one wasn’t short, but I still needed some pep and fast Midleresque versions of “Lullaby of Broadway” and “In the Mood,” which made for an interesting mixing of genres for Peter, Paul and Mary and Bette.
These really seem to clump up. And there are a few more to come, but after we get through the P’s it’s smooth sailing until the T’s. I think.
So, here’s the memory attached to Peter Pan:
When I was four years old, my mother, because she did everything doctors and convention told her to, brought me to the hospital so I could have my tonsils out. I have a few strong recollections of that event. I remember someone had forgotten to pack my slippers and I had to wear hospital slippers made of a kind of cardboard as we were taken down the hall. We were a bunch of little kids kept in this large room where we were stored in cribs lining the four walls. I didn’t know if we were all there for the same reason, but I don’t think I even understood why I was there. That night, before we were to go to sleep, two or three women came into the room. I think there was a nurse and one was a lady doctor because she had a stethoscope around her neck and seemed to be the one in charge. They had a cart which they wheeled from crib to crib and I stood in my crib and watched from the far side of the room as one by one, each child’s finger would be pricked, and each would start to cry as a drop of blood would be placed on a glass slide. But there was tenderness from the women. No annoyance nor impatience. Each child would cry, and each child would stop. Except me. I continued to watch as the lady doctor pricked my finger, and I didn’t cry. I don’t know why not. I just didn’t. They smiled and I thought the lady doctor was pretty. She complimented me for being such a big girl and rather placing a drop of blood on the slide, she took my finger and made a happy face on it with my blood.
I next remember lying in my own bed at home. My mother was passing my door with my brother and she stopped and lifted his shirt to show me the spots on his stomach. It was amusing to us all. He had measles. And that’s all I remember. The rest was my mother’s memory.
I caught the measles and having just had my tonsils out, got very sick. I had a temperature of 104 and my mother kept me in bed with her, holding me throughout the night. She was scared, but I did recover, and as I did, according to her, I wanted to hear the Peter Pan record over and over. That’s when she started calling me Wendy and singing the Wendy song to me. I do believe that lasted a few years. I did watch the TV special every year and would look to see what would be different this time, and worried that star Mary Martin as Peter may fall as she flew around the stage. Luckily, each year, everything went off without a hitch.
I really need that Ram re-boot last night. While I like this album, the aerobics, except where Bette stepped in, was lacking.
Nilsson put together an album of old songs of my parents’ generations. This is good easy listening and something to sing along with, and would be nice record to drag out on a romantic evening, if only… If you don’t know who Harry Nilsson was, he was responsible for that “She put de lime in de coconut” thing, and the theme from Midnight Cowboy, “Everybody’s Talkin’.”
Hey, my head hit my knees during sit-ups. It bounced right off, but the point is, they made contact.
Here’s to you, Liz.
After the last few albums, and with the ones coming up, I thought it was time for a much needed Ram break with Paul McCartney. Even though I went to the movies and got home a little later than usual, I felt like getting that exercise in. I really needed to work things out. And tonight while working out, I was just lost in random thoughts and have nothing really to write about, except – The ex and I went to see The Dallas Buyers Club. First let me say, it was a good movie, a good story and might fine performances.
For those of you who don’t already know or have yet to figure it out, my brother passed away quite some time ago and he died of AIDS. We were raised differently by the same parents, which put a wedge between us until my mother’s cancer diagnosis, when he came out as my champion, and then eventually came out to me as well. We re-bonded in a very natural way, for us, and were slowly rekindling the relationship when his own diagnosis forced us to speed up the process. He died a year and a month after my mother had.
I’ve watched the movie Philadelphia many times. As soon as I hear the first few beats of Bruce Springsteen’s title song I break into tears. Why would I do that to myself? People have actually asked me this. It’s an excellent movie with a very important message, done in a sentimental yet powerful way. And so there was no hesitation on my part when the ex suggested The Dallas Buyers Club as the next movie. I knew it would be tough, but the story, the acting and the message made it worth it. Admittedly, after the movie, while the credits were rolling I felt the need to bury my head in my hands, but was distracted by the rustling sound next to me, and I watched as the ex burrowed through all his jacket pockets looking for the napkins he got with his popcorn. God forbid I should bring a tissue.
But I still needed to let loose and not worry about the next album and writing about it. This is what I wanted write about. And Ram was what I wanted to exercise to.
The Walrus Was Paul 