music – Page 5 – Kelley Eskridge

Shake it or break it

Very recently, MTV finally — wait for it — launched a music video website. I swear. It’s such a delight to find out they still actually care about music videos and not just Young People’s Reality (as if) or whatever it is they’re doing over there these days.

The site content is still spotty — some artists go deep, and some aren’t represented at all, which I assume is a matter of rights negotiations. But there is certainly enough to be starting with, and it’s good quality. And it means you’ll probably be getting more music videos for a while (grin) — I already have my eye on a few things (Frankie! Christopher Walken dancing! U2 meets the Village People…)

I saw my first music video in 1983 on a network show called “Friday Night Videos.” No one I knew had cable TV then, so I’d never seen MTV. The first video on the show was “Billie Jean” and I thought it was amazing.

For those of you who have never lacked your MTV, videos were different back in the day. The production values were often minimal, the story lines random, and the musicians uncomfortable. No one really did “live” videos where they just played the music — it was all atmosphere and meaning and moody glances and suchlike. But things improved. By the time the song below came along, videos were more expensive, expansive, and coherent — and much much more about the music.

Yay! Just in time for the B-52’s.

The B-52’s |MTV Music

Edited to add: I’ve just been informed that the MTV videos won’t play outside of the US. Controlling bastards. Here’s a YouTube version that will work.

Globalism, people!

I cannot listen to that song without feeling good. And it reminds me so much of things I loved about the South. I have no desire to ever live there again, but the South is in my DNA. There are things I do and believe that are the direct result of growing up there, and there are moments, images, bits of my childhood culture, that I still miss piercingly sometimes. And so I love heading down the Atlanta highway with the B-52’s under a Southern sky and feeling like I get it. Like I belong.

And here’s another treat for you, since there’s hardly ever such a thing as too much good music in the world. Thanks to Duncan for turning me onto Big Mama. And why is a South Korean group called Big Mama? Go find out here… and then send them a psychic blast of You go, girls if you are so inclined. I certainly am.

Like it? Go on over to Duncan’s place for more.

Get busy, child

For various reasons, I have to get busy. I have a lot to finish in a very short time, and then a lot of new things to start when these current things are finished.

It is 5:40 AM, and I am fucking busy.

I do a lot of work — especially a lot of screenwriting — to The Crystal Method. It’s focused forward-motion music, and I use it when I need to power through a project. I find it impossible to listen to TCM and not get busy. I also find it impossible not to dance in my chair sometimes, but that’s just me…

So if you’ve got things that just have to get done today — or if you just want to dance (grin) — then here’s some music for you.

And that’s it from me today. I’ll be over here, getting things done.

Mashups

I like mashups. That’s one reason why I respond so strongly to Karina’s story vids for “Touching Fire” and “Strings” — I love love love all the ways there are to respond to art by recombining it. And the first exposure I ever had to this idea, apart from collage, was when I discovered the mashup scene.

I have about a million things to do, so I won’t go on about how cool mashup can be when it’s done well, or how interesting it is to hear what people choose to put together. It’s a talent to hear a thing and know that it will work with something else this way.

Anyway, these are some that I like. I hope you’ll like them too.

“Boulevard of Broken Songs” (Green Day/Oasis/Travis/Eminem/Aerosmith). Mashup by Dean Gray (there’s a naughty word in the intro that makes this NSFW).

“Papa Was A Clock” (Temptations/Coldplay). Mashup by Mark Vidler.

“Callin’ on Sunday” (Lyrics Born/U2). Mashup by Party Ben.

“Put on the Superfreak” (The Police/Rick James). Mashup by Leebuzz (and I’m not sending you to his site because I just got trapped there by a really annoying ad, and I like you too much to do that to you!).

Want more? Get your groove on at Mashuptown.

Enjoy!

Solid air

Here is the fabulous John Martyn, with the absolutely brilliant Danny Thompson on bass. They’ve played together on and off since the 70’s, two wild boys grown into men whose talent and expertise seems DNA-deep.

This is music for anytime, any day, but it seems perfect for today with tea and breakfast and the last of summer just outside the window: and autumn grinning from behind leaves barely touched with yellow, in the whiff of ice in the breeze, in the sky that is beginning to be smaller as if drawing in on itself when I’m not looking; in the days that are only a moment shorter, just a moment, but enough to make me feel that the world is spinning faster, faster, as if it has just put its foot on the gas pedal…

I love exuberance. I love the energy of young artists, the fizz of sharing their discoveries, the sense that anything might be possible. They are the summer people. But what I love today is the certainty in these men as they play — they know exactly what they can do and they do it with utter confidence. That’s part of the energy of autumn for me. I wish I could explain it better (so much for being a writer!), but maybe you will see it for yourself.

Quantum of Solace

I’m excited about Quantum of Solace, the new James Bond movie releasing in November. Actually I’m excited about quite a few films right now, including The Hurt Locker, Kathryn Bigelow’s new film that played at the Toronto Film Festival and just got a distribution deal. Bigelow rocks as a director. And I’m over the moon about True Blood on TV. But we’ll get to all that another time… today is superspy angst and action, baby!

I’m a Pierce Brosnan fan (loved him in The Matador), but my James Bond heart belongs to Daniel Craig. I think he does an excellent job with the essential tension of Bond, the roughness and rage that is intrinsic to the character no matter how well he wears a tux. With Casino Royale I was glad to see a turn back towards the core character, a Bond who relies more on his wits and his gun (or his hands) than on techno-toys. A more human Bond than the screenwriters and producers have allowed for a long time.

And the trend seems likely to continue in Quantum of Solace. If you’re wondering why the wacky title, the story is here. Not the title I would have chosen, but it’s James Bond, you know? People will find it.

I’ve got two trailers to show you today, because it interests me that they are very different in how they frame one’s expectations. The first is a real mood piece without a lot of information, the second more focused on action and the revelation of story. I admire how the two layers come together in the line “You don’t have to worry about me,” which take on such different tones in the two trailers.

The art and science of trailers is fascinating to me, the way they can spin a story just by recombining snips of action and dialogue. I wonder how that would work with books — imagine a word-trailer that would shape expectations of the story just by the phrases one chose to include.

Oh no, I feel my brain saying to itself, Oh cool! Avoidance behavior!. No, no, I have too much to do today. Quick, let’s watch a trailer before I fall down the rabbit hole.

Bookend Bowie

Today Nicola brings you a little musical politics (and I’m afraid the musical chairs analogy may be more apt for this election than I’d wish). Yep, I’m worried about McCain too… but all I could really think when I watched the video was damn, David Bowie has got it going on.

I’ve always thought this show at the BBC Theatre in 2000 was awesome. I love the early Bowie — Low, Aladdin Sane — and I love this Bowie too, who seems so much more comfortable in his own skin. I love watching experts at work. And I thought, really, can there ever be too much good music let loose into the blogosphere? So here you go — “Hallo Spaceboy”. Charismatic people playing fantastic music and having so much fun. Wander on over to Ask Nicola for more.

A good day for bad medicine

We had a table right next to the dance floor. People buzzed around us, Fantastic show, Love the album, Oh my god that song makes me so hot. Nice for the band: but right now was for us, so everyone was politely turned away while we drank and laughed and dissected the show.

I sat next to Con. Duncan was on his other side, still cranked on music: his eyes shone and his body wanted to touch. I watched the crowd watching us, and said to Con, “So, is this how you imagined it when you were a kid?”

Con made the huh face, and then grinned. “The first band fantasy I ever had was that Tico Torres would get run over by the tour bus and I would be Bon Jovi”s new drummer.”

So unexpected, and so perfect: Duncan and I nearly fell out of our chairs laughing. Con went on, “Seriously. I loved those guys, I still do. And I could totally see myself in the really tight faded jeans and the hair””

“Stop,” said Duncan, who was by now gasping for breath. A wonderful thing, to see him so abandoned to joy. He came out of his chair and straddled Con”s lap. “Please, mister rock star,” he said, “can I be your groupie tonight?”

“Get off,” Con laughed.

“Love to,” Duncan said, looking particularly wicked as he always did when he saw a chance to tweak Con, who was undoubtedly the straightest man on the planet.

“You”re a fucking pervert,” Con said with genuine love. “Get off me.” Duncan laughed and went back to his own chair.

“And what did you see yourself playing?” I said.

“Easy,” Con said, “”Bad Medicine.””

— from “Dangerous Space” by Kelley Eskridge

Now that’s what I’m talking about.

Calling all U2 fans

@U2, the U2 fan website that I write for, is sponsoring the first-ever academic conference about U2. “U2,The Hype and the Feedback: A conference exploring the music, work and influence of U2” will happen May 13 – 15, 2009 in New York. Special guests include esteemed music writers Anthony DeCurtis and Steve Turner, award-winning religion writer Cathleen Falsani, Jim Henke of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and Matt McGee, who is my boss from @U2 (hey, Fearless Leader!) and the author of the forthcoming book U2: A Diary.

The conference is hosted by Cedarville University and is the brainchild — and long labor — of Scott Calhoun, an @U2 staff writer and a professor at Cedarville.

Many of the @U2 staff are involved in some aspect of the conference. I’m a member of the panel reviewing submission papers for the programming tracks, and I’m looking forward to this new light shining on the music and band I love. What will the academics say about U2? Should be interesting…

If you’re a U2 fan, or you know someone who is, please let them know about the conference. You don’t have to be an academic to attend — you just gotta love U2!

And just to show how serious U2 can be, here’s a clip from Rattle and Hum (1987) that includes a kickass version of “Desire”… and a very funny interview with a very stoned band.

Low Spark

My parents read this blog, so if the rest of you will just give us a second…

Hi, Mum! Hi, Dad! (blows kisses to parents). I know you’ve heard lots of my bad girl stories from high school and beyond, but I’m not sure whether you’ve heard this one, so let’s go over here into this little corner of the internet while I tell you that I took some drugs in high school you might not know about yet. I’m sure you assumed (correctly) that I occasionally drank liquor and maybe smoked some pot. And I’ve still never snorted cocaine or taken speed or been to one of those parties with a punchbowl full of pills. But I did (okay, here it comes now) drop acid about half a dozen times or so.

Okay, whew, there’s nothing like a little public confession to really put a Saturday in a whole new light. And in front of all these other people!

Hi, everyone, thanks for waiting, I’m back now and I’m pretty sure my folks survived (blows more kisses to parents).

So, yeah, when I was a junior in high school I discovered blotter acid, courtesy of the So Cool girl next door in the dorm who decided that I needed to expand my horizons. I never had a bad time at all. It was always pretty easy for me to yank my mind back from wherever it had wandered off to, if it was necessary.

One necessary time was out in the woods one Sunday afternoon with a group of about eight or so. One of the girls began to unravel around the edges — she couldn’t remember her own name, she was convinced her identity was melting away. She didn’t know who she was. So I blinked and the shiny edges around things dimmed a bit, and I gave her a hug, and took her for a walk, and told her everything I knew about her.

And then at some point she was okay (time gets pretty funny on acid), and I was okay too, but she had, as we sometimes say in our house, harshed my mellow. So my friend Matt and I wandered back to campus and went to the cafeteria for dinner.

But we were too early (that time thing…), so we sat in the common room where, sadly for those around us, there was a piano. Matt and I commandeered it.

What’s your favorite song? he asked.

The Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys, I said.

Holy shit, me too! he said, eyes bright. And without further discussion, we launched into a duet of Low Spark. I played the actual piano line and he played the melody. I was hugely impressed that he knew it.

And we sang. I’m sorry, but we did.

And we played.

For 45 minutes.

Until finally, another kid came over to us and said, in the tone of someone on her last nerve, Could you guys PLEASE STOP PLAYING THAT SONG?!

So we did. But I’ve never forgotten that time in the common room on a spring afternoon. And Low Spark is still my favorite song. It still delights me, moves me, describes me. Still takes me right into myself.

So I thought maybe you’d enjoy it too. I’m off now to make banana bread for my sweetie, and I feel a long (good) way from my baby acid-queen days, but it’s nice to remember the time when I was discovering what music was for — that songs could be about me, could make me see more clearly who I am and who I’d like to be.

Happy Saturday.

And enjoy The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys. (Traffic, 1971)

Werewolf glee!

Okay, okay, so I’m 13 in Tampa in the spring of 1974. It’s a hard time in a dozen different ways, and I am often escaping into solitude, into a book, into hours of music on the radio in the middle of the night when I cannot sleep. And there’s this song that I just fucking fall in love with. In. Love. Why? I don’t know. It was a story about a boy whose brother was a werewolf until their daddy got down the shotgun one night… So maybe it was just my SF-storytelling self beginning to come to the fore.

And the song went out of rotation, as they do. And I went off to boarding school and discovered vinyl. Traffic, Steppenwolf, Aerosmith, Blue Oyster Cult. And the Boston radio station I listened to intermittently was much more hip and urban than my little Tampa station, and they never played my werewolf song.

I thought about the song again about 20 years ago or so. I called a local oldies station and described it to the DJ (a song about a werewolf, I said somewhat helplessly, not being able to remember the band or the title). The DJ was polite but skeptical. And I’ve never met anyone since who, upon hearing the story, lit up and said Oh, sure, I remember that song!

Well, here it is.

Canada’s own Five Man Electrical Band with “Werewolf.” I listened to it just a few minutes ago for the first time since 1974. Isn’t the internet cool?!

And I’m pretty sure I can peg now what appealed to my young self so much. It’s actually a pretty complex mix: there’s the almost-sexual intimacy of the narrator’s voice, and the way it moves in and out of the gender-neutral zone; there’s the story itself, simple on the surface but all about family dynamics, about being different, about desires that must not be acted on. And then there’s this moment:

Then we heard a shot
And I said Papa got him.
Then we heard a scream…
And Mama smiled and said
Bet you Billy got him.

Seriously, is that a moment, or what?