some mean eyed cats

"I love songs about horses, railroads, land, judgment day, family, hard times, whiskey, courtship, marriage, adultery, separation, murder, war, prison, rambling, damnation, home, salvation, death, pride, humor, piety, rebellion, patriotism, larceny, determination, tragedy, rowdiness, heartbreak and love."

--Johnny Cash

Music historians will discover it one day. Prophets will shout from the mountaintops. The church bells will all ring. The villagers will wander into the unpaved streets. And the wheat will turn golden in the fields.

The Heartbreakers might well be the best backing band the world has ever seen. For starters, Tom Petty, Mike Campbell, and Benmont Tench toured with Bob Dylan. And they provided the most muscular grooves to ever grace a Johnny Cash record.

It's fun to listen to Unchained and realize that Petty and friends don't sound like the Heartbreakers. They sound like Johnny Cash's band. Is there any better compliment? I don't think so, and Lord knows I tried.

Is that Petty on the count-in? Yeah. And if you listen really close, sometimes you hear a perfectly understated backing vocal. Like I said, he didn't attend those sessions to be Tom Petty. He was there to play with Johnny Cash. And damn if it didn't sound good. Those were some mean eyed cats.

iFluence

Sometimes writing, like life itself, has room enough for what might be called "a fortunate accident." Can new words be made in this way? A moment ago I committed a small typo and noticed that I was reflecting on what, to me, is a new word: iFluence. It sounds like a dotcom, doesn't it?

Let's try to define it, then.

iFluence: the measurable action of information on human consciousness and intellect; the inherent power of information technology and services to create social change.

And to think, I merely wanted to record another quote from cultural historian Jacques Barzun:

"In art, influence does take place and when strongest is least literal. When it is literal it must be called plagiarism and the fact should not be concealed by the eminence of the thief."

What music am I listening to, at this moment? Hail to the Thief, by Radiohead. Of course.

walking on the moon

One Train Later, a memoir by Police guitarist Andy Summers, is one of those rare books which takes my breath away by sight alone. I haven't had that feeling since I first laid eyes on Hemingway's True at First Light, published in 1999 on the centennial of his birth (and I knew that one was coming). For everyone who once believed in something called...well, you know what it was called...this is candy of the best kind. It's more than candy, of course. It's a refresher course on the relentless excellence of The Police, and a poignant reminder of that magical summer of 1983 when "King of Pain," "Wrapped Around Your Finger," and "Every Breath You Take" ruled our hearts just as they ruled the airwaves.

This...this book was totally unexpected. I don't believe that anyone can rationally refute the premise that The Police had the most premature demise of any band of the rock era. Walking away after the critical and commercial success of 1983's Synchronicity (an album accomplished enough to be the greatest pop masterpiece since The Beatles' Abbey Road) was the musical equivalent of a pitcher retiring after throwing a perfect game. It still hurts; there are still some of us who didn't want them to go.

By that point, The Police were in "a state of seige," Summers writes, "encircled twenty-four hours a day by lawyers, record companies, fans, and the yawning maw of the press."

From this elevation, with its weird brew of light and claustrophobia, you see why the Beatles finally blew apart. We seem to be following the same route, with the saurian roar of the media filling our ears, drowning out our beautiful songs.

Summers, it seems, has a good ear for prose as well as immortal guitar phrases. One Train Later is published by Thomas Dunne Books, an imprint of St. Martin's Press. I'm tempted to begin reading it tonight. But then I wouldn't sleep at all.

the role of the aesthete

Whenever we talk about seeing in regard to art, what we really refer to is the critical eye.

"The aesthete is expert at recording and judging sensations. He perceives more in the universe and makes finer distinctions than the common creature. In works of art, which are bound to be difficult if they are genuinely art, he sees everything where the rest see nothing. Two things follow: art needs a critic to interpret it for public appreciation and the critic must be as gifted as the artist to see deeply and justly into the work. Hence a piece of true criticism is a work of art."

Jacques Barzun, From Dawn To Decadence

fleurs in the rain

I need to begin shooting again. I have a good eye; I'm not shy about saying so. So why have I not been out with my camera on a regular basis for almost two years now?

Well, a lot has happened in the last two years. Some of the "happenings" weren't exactly pleasant. But I still have the desire; I still have the eye. Winter is coming. I can shoot in the snow and the ice and the cold. The make-believe photographers can just sit at home, where they belong. I found this image in the rain.

"Yes, I am learning to see," Rilke said. "I intend to make the best use of my time." I'm not tired of seeing the world in this way, the way of the mystic and the artist. No, I'm not tired. I'm only sleeping. But I have no idea about time.

that train don't stop here anymore

I'm not sure that it's much of a milestone, but I now have more than 5,400 songs on my notebook. I've spent part of the day listening to Los Lobos, particularly Kiko and Wolf Tracks: The Best of Los Lobos.

Los Lobos are probably hands-down winners when it comes to the ratio of critical reception to public acclaim. "Who are those guys," you can imagine the average radio listener saying. Wait a minute. They're probably rarely heard on radio. But that's okay. That's always been okay, at least in one respect. They can sort of remain our secret, even though they've been recording the better part of thirty years. We need more bands like that. Working bands, making the best music they can. For some reason, my iTunes library classifies Kiko as country. But you know what? I like that. It is country, as folk music is country. It's representative of an entire ethnic and aesthetic experience.

So, who else have I listened to today? Mazzy Star. Louis Armstrong. The Beatles. The Verve. 10,000 Maniacs. It's been an...eclectic...day.