Some people are weekend warriors, getting up and out early on Saturdays, taking the kids to soccer or swim lessons or karate, getting their grocery shopping out of the way, etc. That’s not us. When Saturday rolls around we all like to have slow, leisurely breakfasts at whatever time it is when we come down stairs, catch up on some reading, just take it easy. What’s the rush? To me Saturdays are like summer vacations; you have to appreciate them while you have them because they’re gone before you’re ready. Slow it down. The dishes can wait.
And here’s a show I’ll miss next week. I don’t know what happened that crammed an entire year’s worth of concert opportunities into a five or six week time frame but that’s what’s going on. It would be a full time job just going to all the shows I’d like to see and even then I’d have to choose between a few options in different cities on some nights.
I have two different apps on my phone for live music and I like elements of both but neither one really does what I want. First of all, I want these apps to track the artists and tell me not just when they’ll be playing in my area but I want them to let me know when tickets go on sale. Anywhere. It’s too late for me to scroll through the list and see that TV on the Radio is playing tonight because I would have needed to know that weeks ago because it’s sold out.
Back in October I went out to Portland, OR, for a conference and I desperately wanted to go see a show while I was there. Of course that was the week when bands I wanted to see were near my home and while Portland had stuff going on, there was nothing I was really excited about. These apps were not much help in my scouting out the options in advance.
I think there’s a market, albeit perhaps a market of one (me), for an app that combines travel and concert options so that when you discover you’re going to be traveling, you can make connecting flights that will route you through a city where scheduling a layover will net you a great concert that you would otherwise miss. Hmm, maybe I need to flesh this idea out some more.
In a couple of days I’ll be seeing Johnny Marr. That’s right, Johnny Fuckin’ Marr. With each passing day I get more excited. I need this. I’ve been listening to his two solo albums while I’m working to prep for it and hoping that we don’t get sidelined by some freak November snow storm.
I’ve seen videos of him playing How Soon is Now and Stop Me If You Think That You’ve Heard This One Before from earlier stops on the tour. I’m just going to admit it. If he plays How Soon is Now, or Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want, or There is a Light That Never Goes Out, or Ask, or probably just about any of the Smiths songs it’s likely he might pull out, I will be a teary mess. To see the man himself playing those songs that have been ringing in my ears for more than 25 years…
I’ve written about Johnny Marr before and I can’t remember now why I didn’t go see him when he toured the US last year but when I learned he’d be touring for his new album Playland, I didn’t want to miss it again. Luckily I live in the northeast and he’s playing several venues within a reasonable distance* of where I live. Just remind me to buy some new tires over the weekend.
I know it won’t be a Smiths concert. I don’t want it to be. But I do want my head to be filled with that undeniable Johnny Marr sound. I want to hear these new songs and have that swirling feeling when the music is all around you, palpable, moving your hair and giving you goosebumps.
* A reasonable distance in my book is anything not requiring a flight.
I went up to the storage area to get a tape for the drive this morning. I wouldn’t say I’m running out of tapes but there are fewer mixes and more that have one album on each side. Those seem a little less interesting to write up for Tape Deck Tuesday. Then there’s all the bootlegs that I’ll probably never write up. For today I grabbed one that my best friend taped for me at the tail end of August in 1986 or 87, the year isn’t listed, but I can tell it’s from that vintage.
Side A: Concrete Blonde/ The Method Actors: Little Figures
True
Your Haunted Head
Dance Along the Edge
Still in Hollywood
Song for Kim (She Said)
Beware of Darkness
Over Your Shoulder
Little Sister
(You’re the Only One) Can Make Me Cry
Cold Part of Town
True (Instrumental)
————–
Halloween
Hi-Hi Whooppee
Side B: Gang of Four: Songs of the Free
Call Me Up
I Love a Man in a Uniform
We Live as We Dream, Alone
It Is Not Enough
Life! It’s a Shame
I Will Be a Good Boy
The History of the World
Muscle for Brains
Of the Instant
I had a hard time getting the tape out of the box, it was really wedged in there. Once I did, I could see it was because there was a little slip of paper inside the folded over part of the label. I unfolded it to find this:
That’s my friend’s rendition of the illustration on the back of the album, which is itself a drawing of the front of the album. Of course I didn’t have the record then (which is why she taped it for me) but I bought it sometime after that and now you can see, she did a pretty good job (click the pictures to enlarge). These things were very important. They’re still important to me. It’s one of the reasons why I still don’t really like downloading albums. I do it, especially when I want something quickly or it’s much cheaper that way and I don’t really want a physical copy, but nine times out of ten, I will still want to at least see the cover and any liner notes, etc. Recently I downloaded an album but then discovered there was a copy at the library so I borrowed the library’s copy just so I could read everything inside and made a copy of the insert to keep. I will never understand why all digital downloads don’t include a copy of the CD insert. It’s a simple file they could easily include if you buy the whole album. Do they just assume, hmph, you’re downloading it, you must not really care.
I popped it into the tape deck without rewinding it, catching the end of the instrumental version of True. This was Concrete Blonde’s self-titled album, their first LP. Then there was some crackling and popping, tell-tale signs of the needle touching down on the record. There must only have been room for two songs by the Method Actors. They were one of those bands we’d heard lots about but they’d already broken up and, let’s be serious, the people we knew at college were decidedly not people who would know anything about them.
After those two songs, the tape reversed itself and started playing Gang of Four. I originally thought about posting I Love a Man in a Uniform, seeing as how it’s Veterans’ Day, then I thought, Life! It’s a Shame was perfect (look up the lyrics and ask yourself how is it they’re still relevant 32 years later!?). I miss music like this. Thought-provoking in both sound and lyrics, and you can even dance to it. People make songs of substance still but, it’s not like this. Tucked in at the end of side B was a live recording of the Everly Brothers doing All I Have to Do is Dream.
On the way home I caught the rest of the Concrete Blonde album and thought, hmm, maybe Still in Hollywood will be the winner for the video today, but in the end, the tape made it all the way to the end of side A again and I decided, it has to be the Method Actors. I mean, come on. And somehow, this video was only uploaded four days ago and I was the first person to watch it. It was meant to be. Hi-Hi-Whooppee!
Today is the 25th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. I remember being absolutely glued to the tv during the weeks and days leading up to that moment. It was something I never thought would happen in my lifetime and there it was unfolding in front of our eyes.
I was a history major and geography minor in college. Only a year or two before the Wall was cracked open, I’d taken a class called Divided Germany Since 1945 and there were no signs of anything changing. I’d taken German language classes up through Advanced Conversation and Composition. This was a subject I knew a lot about and it was personal.
My grandfather’s family had emigrated from a small town in central Germany back in the late 1800s. There were enough German immigrants in Brooklyn that they still spoke German at home and their name didn’t become anglicized. Once my grandfather’s oldest sister started school, that all changed and by the time my grandfather was born in the early 1900s, the only thing that remained of their German heritage was the name.
Fast forward 70 years, one of my uncles received a letter out of the blue from someone in East Germany. My uncle had written an article in a scientific journal and it had been read by a science teacher living in Karl-Marx-Stadt with the same last name. It’s a very rare name even in Germany. The science teacher figured they must be related and he sent a letter saying his family had come from the same dinky hamlet in what had become East Germany after World War II. Letters were exchanged and indeed, they were cousins separated by a few generations.
My grandfather was involved in international sports and even though most westerners weren’t allowed behind the Iron Curtain, exceptions were made now and then for people working on behalf of institutions like his. On a trip to West Germany, he and my grandmother were granted permission to travel to East Germany to meet this long lost cousin in the dinky little town near the East/West border. They rode around in a Trabi and showed my grandparents the sights and the places where the family had come from.
When my grandparents returned from their trip, my grandmother asked me to be a pen-pal with the cousin’s oldest daughter who was learning English in school. We corresponded for several years. Her life was very different from mine and her opportunities were very limited. I always assumed I would never meet her. I found several of her letters in the boxes that were in my mother’s attic, with their DDR stamps and return address of Karl-Marx-Stadt.
As I sat in front of the tv watching the Wall being chipped at and climbed upon and eventually toppled, I thought of her and wondered what she might be feeling and might she be there? What was going to happen? Even though it was clear people were going to be allowed to travel, it didn’t seem like the DDR would be gone in less than a year. The pace at which things crumbled is staggering when you think about it, even in hindsight.
In February of 1994, I went to Europe for the first time. I flew into Berlin and stayed with a friend who had been an intern at the museum I worked at in DC. We went to the Checkpoint Charlie museum and I insisted on going to the eastern part of Berlin, to see what was left of the Wall, to see what it looked like for myself. Even 4 1/4 years after the Wall came down, the eastern half of the city still looked depressed and bore the scars of isolation. We went to an art performance/party in a building that looked like it had been bombed in 1945 and no one had ever cleaned it up.
After a week in Berlin I took the train down to Chemnitz, the name the town of Karl-Marx-Stadt had reclaimed after the DDR fell apart and stayed with “the East German cousins” for a few days. My pen-pal cousin had moved to Stuttgart but she came home to be able to meet me. My German was pretty rusty but their English was better and we talked and looked at old pictures. She had been very active in the demonstrations that occurred throughout East Germany, not just in Berlin. One of her younger sisters escaped to one of the embassies that were taking people in, as those who’d made it onto embassy property were going to be allowed to travel to the west. We went to Dresden and they showed me the places where they’d gathered to protest the government. The whole trip boggled my mind; here I was in East Germany, meeting the cousins I’d always assumed I’d only know through letters.
There’s a lot of stuff out there today commemorating the fall of the Berlin Wall. This one had some pretty interesting map graphs and two videos showing places today where the wall had been. My husband and I were talking about the 25th anniversary and remembering it all. My daughter heard us and was asking questions. It was unbelievable to her that the Wall had ever existed and everything we told her sounded like a movie plot to her and not like it really could have happened. I’ll never forget it.
I scored closet hipster on one of those online quizzes that a friend posted on Facebook (she got anti-hipster). If I wander into hipster territory would you all tell me? Am I getting close here?
You know what I miss? I miss going to shows where the whole crowd is moving in unison. Where you’re all packed in tight and have your arms up, bent at the elbow for protection. It’s a mosh pit but in the fun, not-harmful way. Urban Dictionary would have me believe this is called a closed pit. Pogoing in a closed pit? Maybe? I’m afraid mosh pit has taken on a meaning associated with the worst (or best, if you’re into that) kind of violent pit. I’m not talking about the steel-toed combat boot to the ear* kind of pit.
What I’m talking about is when you hear a song like this, you just want to be packed into a small, hot, black room jumping up and down with 300 of your closest strangers. No one’s holding a beer, no one’s holding a phone up filming. Why would you when it would only get knocked out of your hands?
It’s been forever since I was at a show like that. When I went to see the Joy Formidable, the conditions were ripe but the crowd was still green. It’s something that requires everyone buy into it, or at least a large enough cluster of people to sustain the momentum. It works better when there’s not a lot of room. There are fewer chances of getting hurt, in my experience, when it’s tight and there’s a collective will to do this one thing. I’m not a fan of stage diving and crowd surfing. I just want to be carried away in the figurative sense. It doesn’t seem to be a tradition that got passed down to the next group of concert-goers though.
* That was my worst pit experience. Full force whack in the ear from someone who took a dive at a Carter USM show (I know, right?) at the old 930 Club. It felt like in those old Bugs Bunny cartoons where the stars circle your head.