Summer Nights

According to what I've gleaned while teaching Homer, the phrase "dog days" refers to the appearance of the Dog Star, Sirius, during the month of August--something which many people know. But why is Sirius baleful? Its dominance of the heavens signified the most dangerous period of time for the plague: the rats get frisky and the fleas are jumpin' and the cotton is...oh, that's another allusion. At any rate, when Achilles races after Hector near the climax to the Iliad, his newly forged armor shining in the rays of the sun, he is compared, in a somewhat brief epic simile, to the fateful and dangerous Sirius.

I'm sure that was on Eddie Cochrane's mind when he penned his most famous song, "Summertime Blues." Here's a video from YouTube of Eddie, at the height of Fifties cool, doing that song. (The volume is extremely low on the recording.)



(I love the way he breaks up more and more when the backup singer delivers the punch lines.)

One more summer allusion--a song I very vaguely remember from the Sixties was titled "Summer Nights." All I could remember that it was sung by a British female singer and had a prominent harpsichord--as well as a few words from the bridge's lyrics: "there's a little cafe..." I thought the singer might be Linda Hopkins, but it was, as Google told me, the much throatier Marianne Faithfull. And thanks to iTunes, I found it was much better than I remembered, which, unfortunately, is not always the case. That vibrato contralto...

What cold little hands...

One more Bjorling clip--I have to, because this one always makes my jaw drop and my eyes water. It's from Act 1 of Puccini's La Boheme, "Che gelida manina," and in this case, I do know what it means--it's the title of this post. Rodolfo, having met Mimi, is now beginning, in that quaint Victorian sense, to make love to her.

This recording comes from 1938, which means it was recorded on 78 rpm records. They have done a superb job of cleaning it up, but still--the power of Bjorling's voice is almost frightening. I used to think Pav was supreme in this aria--but he can't hold a candle to Bjorling. What was it like to hear him live? Soaring. Searing.

Rocking the Dikes

I wanted to put a song here that was the complete opposite of my last post's subject, so I was listening to a YouTube clip of the Who singing "Long Live Rock," where Pete Townshend is so drunk that he almost falls into Keith Moon's drum kit, and Moon laughs his ass off, when I noticed a clip from the same British show--The Old Grey Whistle Test--of a favorite song I had completely forgotten about for decades: "Sylvia" by the Dutch group Focus.

It's coupled with their only U.S. hit, "Hocus Pocus," which features the vocal--what to call them--acrobatics? pyrotechnics? inanities? of Thijs van Leer: let's say "unique vocal stylings." Jan Akkerman, the guitar player, was always more interesting to me.

"The sweet power of music"

In a famous passage in E. M. Forster's Howards End, the Schlegel sisters attend a concert that includes Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. Forster describes Helen's reaction to its third movement as a vision of goblins marching across the world. Thus Forster proves that it is almost impossible to write about music in words or images that can bridge the gap between the spirits hearing the same piece.

In Merchant of Venice, Jessica tells Lorenzo, "I am never merry when I hear sweet music," and he answers, "The reason is your spirits are attentive." Much of this interchange was set to music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, itself a gorgeous work. All this is prelude to a piece I found wandering through the slim pickings of classical fare available on You Tube. I normally would not draw anyone's attention to a recording that is played over a static picture, but the music is so beautiful, and the voices so unforgettable, that I had to. It's Jussi Bjorling, the immortal Swedish tenor, and Robert Merrill, baritone, singing the duet from Bizet's The Pearl Fishers.



I have no idea what they are singing about, nor do I want to know. I want to bask in Bjorling's effortless purity of tone and Merrill's perfect blending with and support of Bjorling. I just want that stream of melody, that "concord of sweet sounds," as Lorenzo calls it, to reach inside me and touch that within me that is immortal. One response to this video on YouTube was, "It's because of stuff like this that I bother trying to stay alive."

Lorenzo says of the music of the spheres:

Such harmony is in immortal souls,
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.

When listening to this recording, I think I, at least, come pretty close.

P.S. I came across this comment to another video of Bjorling: "The beauty of Jussi Bjorling's voice is the clarity and his annunciation." Well, the word should be "enunciation," but in this case, it's a felix lapsis, a happy slip. The word becomes fleshed by the artist's voice.

O Lucky Man!--II

I said before that I hoped someone would upload on YouTube the last version of Alan Price's song "O Lucky Man!" in the eponymous movie by Lindsay Anderson.

And luckily, someone has, but this someone is at the very least obsessed with Helen Mirren, because he is uploading rips of all the scenes she appears in from all her movies. That's why if you want to see the more rocking version of this song, you have to wait until the last two minutes of this clip.



The finale of the movie is like one huge wrap party, in which first Lindsay Anderson, the director, and then various actors in the film, such as Mirren and Rachel Roberts, greet Mick Travis, played by Malcolm McDowell.

Unfortunately. O Lucky Man! has not been released on DVD, but the first Mick Travis movie, If..., has just been, by Criterion, and I'll probably have something to say about it later.

"Don't you always?"

"Are you sure you're in this class?"

The Wayback Machine

Since it's Friday, and the song-shuffling capabilties of my iPod have been working a lot better since I learned how to isolate my pop songs (thanks again, Muffy), I decided to list once again the first ten random songs that came up on a shuffled playlist.

1. "Add Some Music" by the Beach Boys.
2. "Let's Get Pretentious" by Pete Townshend (from Psychoderelict music only).
3. "Picture Book" by the Kinks (stereo mix).
4. "Bits and Pieces" by the Dave Clark Five.
5. "Powderfinger" by Neil Young & Crazy Horse (live from Weld).
6. "I'm One" by the Who.
7. "I'm Looking Through You" by the Beatles (alternate version from Anthology 2).
8. "Sad Little Girl" by the Beau Brummels (demo version).
9. "Yesterday's Paper's" by the Rolling Stones.
10."To Love Somebody" by the Flying Burrito Brothers.

That just feels more representative than what I came with before, as far as number of songs by each group. It also has a couple of gems, like the slower version of "I'm Looking Through You" without the bridge, with handclaps and exquisite acoustic guitar work. The line, "I'm looking through you and you're nowhere" becomes a lot more forceful, almost Lennonesque in its intensity. And the ragged "To Love Somebody," so unlike the Bee Gees' polished version, with Gram Parsons' anguished vocals. I'll stand by that list, and people can make of it what they like. ;)

Of course, looking at it makes me think, as I'm wont to do, that I have been listening to some of these songs for over 40 years.

And if I live for 40 more, I shall still love them.

No Dealing Off the Bottom!

"Why are you listing the first ten songs that come up on a random iPod shuffle?"

"Well, everybody's doing it!"

"If everybody jumps off a cliff, are you going to too?"

"Only if I can yell "Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit" on the way down!"




1. "Stardom in Acton" by Pete Townshend.
2. "I Can't Give Back the Love I Feel for You" by Rita Wright.
3. "I Can't Take It" by Badfinger.
4. "Copperhead Road" by Steve Earle.
5. "Fortunate Son" by John Fogerty (live).
6. "Don't Be Long" (aka "It Won't Be Wrong") by the Byrds (Preflyte version).
7. "The House Is Rockin'" by Stevie Ray Vaughan & Double Trouble.
8. "In My Community" by Paul Revere & the Raiders.
9. "A Little is Enough" by Pete Townshend.
10. "Lazy Days" by the Flying Burrito Brothers.

Wow--great music to run to (except #2, which is a vocal rendition of a Jeff Beck instrumental that I love). Looking at this, I realize that the pop music I put on my iPod is still geared towards someone who runs 30-40 miles a week--which, unfortunately, ain't me anymore.

"Gee, too bad 'Living in the Past' didn't come up."

"Quiet."