"My Sister's Tiny Hands," by The Handsome Family. It's the song of the day

A haunting song in the vein of old Appalachia dark murder ballad folk wailing. I feel like I'm down in the dark deep valley, drenched in dew, trudging through the tall grass. Dodging snakes.

"Mahgeetah" by My Morning Jacket

No matter where I am, when I hear those opening invitations by beckoning Jim James, I am transported back to Fall 2003. A new transplant transplanted into Los Angeles. Still trying to force my roost to take hold. The album It Still Moves will always be the first amazing record released I bought as an infant Angeleno.

"Mahgeetah," My Morning Jacket. 2003

Wilco albums from least best to super best

9.  AM, 1995

8. Star Wars, 2015

7. Sky Blue Sky, 2007

6. The Whole Love, 2011

5. Wilco (The Album), 2009

4. A Ghost is Born, 2004

3. Being There, 1996

2. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, 2002

1. Summerteeth, 1999

After three spins: Star Wars by Wilco

Impressions of new releases after three listens...

Star Wars, by Wilco

Such an amazing surprise. Right there, in my Facebook feed, Wilco announced a new, free album for download. Not a song--an album! 

So here's where we begin:

1. FREE Wilco album. Yes!

2. Titled Star Wars. Yes!

3. Cat painting album art. Yes!

All in all, that's a pretty awesome surprise package. Now if the album rocks, well that's just icing on the cake.

The album does rock. In a way.

Star Wars stands out as Wilco's loosest effort. By far. The songs are there. The structures are sound. They are good songs. The performances are also solid. But it's all loose. It sound as if they went into a studio on a Friday, laid down all of the tracks by Saturday, and saved Sunday for the post-production magic. Except, I think Tweedy and the boys partied too hard Saturday night (and all day Saturday too) and took Sunday off. The album is not polished. It is rushed. But its honesty is appreciated. 

Sonically, what stands out, aside from just its immediate feeling, are the fuzz guitar leads. Nels Cline rocks. He's probably one of my favorite guitarists I have ever seen live (apologies, Mr. Marr), and he shreds out in front on pretty much the entire album. His leads punch through studio boards, through studio walls, through my speakers. 

The feeling of friends messing around with music begins with the album's opener, "EKG," an instrumental jam session. Not a highlight.

To me, the highlight tracks are "More," "Random Name Generator,"and "Taste the Ceiling." On these three tracks, you know the songs are there. Tweedy's songwriting is efficient and effective. His lyrics are expectedly cryptic. After three listens, I'm still not sure what the songs are really about. Good! Even though the unequal production here does give a shine to the songs, the performances are still  fun to listen along to. Like with the best of Wilco songs, you can hear a stew of influences in their music. The alt-country tag will never die--twang ascends in "Ceiling." The love for classic rock is there, evident in "Name Generator." Folk-rock song structure resides in "More."

Star Wars is fun. However, I'm not left with many memorable moments to grab onto and press close to my chest, or to let run around my head for endless hours.

                                      

"I'll Be Your Mirror," Clem Snide, 2003

"I'll be your mirror
Reflect what you are, in case you don't know
I'll be the wind, the rain and the sunset
The light on your door to show that you're home"

I spent many teenage weeknight hours up in my bedroom with an acoustic guitar in my lap, ears to the speakers, trying to play along with many albums that spun my world. The first Velvet Underground album was one album I especially fell hard for. I tried my best to learn every song on the album's chord structures so I could play along with Lou and Sterling and John and Maureen. Nico sang for us. "I'll Be Your Mirror," as a hopeless teenage romantic was one of my favorite to strum along to.

Nico's voice is distinct. It is unmistakable. It is Nico. Cool, both in tone and concept, and monotone. However, I always felt that this song should have been sung by Lou. Later I heard a live version when he sung it after Nico left the band. Yes. That was better.

Recently, I heard this version by Clem Snide. I wasn't expecting it. Then it hit me. Holy crap, this is the Velvet's song. The song and the sentiment fit so perfectly with the Clem Snide sound and delivery.

I love when someone is able to cover a song so well that it sounds as if it was written for them to sing. It's rare when bands can do this. Clem Snide achieves this on "I'll Be Your Mirror."

My Morning Jacket Albums in Order from Least Best to Super Best

7. Evil Urges (2008)

6. Circuital (2011)

5. The Waterfall (2015)

4. Tennessee Fire (1999)

3. Z (2005)

2. It Still Moves (2003)

1. At Dawn (2001)

Calexico Albums in Order from Least Best to Super Best

8. Spoke (1997)

7. Hot Rail (2000)

6. Algiers (2012)

5. Garden Ruin (2006)

4. Carried To Dust (2008)

3. Edge of the Sun (2015)

2. The Black Light (1998)

1. Feast of Wire (2003)

Gallery Jukebox. Andrew Wyeth and the Cowboy Junkies

"Wind from the Sea," Andrew Wyeth. 1947.

In November I was fortunate to find myself in Washington DC for a few days. Amidst a hectic day of walking to every historical landmark deemed essential by myself to see in person (because I had never been to DC before) in the 30 degree weather that is just violent to my Southern California trained skin, I devoted a few hours to strolling through the National Gallery. The featured exhibition, Andrew Wyeth's Looking Out, Looking In, tugged me into its corridors.

The collection featured many paintings of an old New England home, from within gazing out, or from out peering in. Windows here are the star of the show. Standing in front of each painting is standing in front of a window, staring into the minute moment Wyeth preserved forever. 

The highlight for me was the painting, “Wind from the Sea.” A weather touched window is open, facing the sea that lies just visible outside the window, out in the world that the artist has separated viewer from. No figure is present in the painting, but still the painting breathes. The frigid sea wind has just exhaled into the room, through the window, freezing the lace curtains in permanence. Out in the field, tire tracks are seen tailing off towards the sea, but no vehicle is visible. This adds to the ghost quality presented to the viewer with the transparent curtains that drift out, reaching towards you.

“Wind from the Sea” captures with perfection that moment when you are standing alone. The world appears empty, and yet is so full. So full of thick loneliness. Your mind drifts out towards the horizon and suddenly you feel as if there is someone else beside you. Only there isn't.

"Broken Bottle" Alejandro Escovedo

"Love is a scar that I wear for you,
like a crown of thorns, like a bad tattoo.
I wear sin like a ring of beauty
just to find you've gone."

Cross the Road, Molina: Reflecting on the songs of Jason Molina

We get no second chance in this life. - (Captain Badass, from the album Axxess & Ace)

Honesty. All of Jason Molina's songs were doused in utter honesty. This man looked deepest into his own eyes, his own heart, his own soul, and it is there where he found his songs. And out of these dark recesses, came forth pure wrenching lines delivered in his delicate voice, tingling with vibrato. Sometimes his syllables of sentiment seemed to linger above the music lines, a bit longer than they seemed they should. His voice would tremble. Like Neil Young. It could fall apart at any time. We all know the feeling. Those moments when you are talking, but holding back the tears, trying to keep the boulder in our throats down, which will turn into an avalanche of tears at any moment. Honesty. One thing is for sure, when Molina sang that "Something's gotta change" we can be sure he meant it.

We are proof that the heart is a risky fuel to burn. - (Being in Love, from the album The Lioness)

Many songwriters attempt to craft their generic songs about heartbreak.  A million pop songs have lived and died all based on heartbreak. I am numb to most of them. They do not ring as true as a Molina song. Because, Molina did not sing about heartbreak, he sang about heartache. There's nothing true about heartbreak. Our hearts do not snap in an instant, left broken. Nothing is quick about it. We all suffer heartache - moments, hours, days, weeks, sometimes months, of alternating dull or sharp pains, depressing lows, manic crying sessions. That burning pit gouged into our chests, thumps and beats, and bleeds out. Over time. Nothing quick about it.

Molina's album, The Lioness, became the soundtrack to one vivid heartache session of my own. Each song on that album is the perfect backing track for a painful, and long, break-up. For example, there are two songs dedicated to bloodthirsty women, in jungle feline form - Tigress, and Lioness. In each song, Molina cries out as if he is the bleeding zebra on the savannah, torn away from his pack, left to dry out in the sun. The predatory female having just eaten his heart out, only. "I want to feel my heart break, if it must break, in your jaws/Want you to lick my blood off your paws."

Momma, here comes midnight, with a dead moon its jaws. - Farewell Transmission, from the album Magnolia Electric Co.

Not only could Molina so perfectly describe his pains, and in doing so our own pains, he was also a master of painting poetry with his lyrics. Each line of his songs layered upon each other, individual emotional brushstrokes, coming together to create the masterpiece. On the last Molina album I bought, Josephine, he perfectly describes the girl named Grace on the song named after her. No, he doesn't describe her, he paints her portrait in the lines he crafts:

She said "I've been the stockyard's pony"
She said 'I've been the mountain engine's roll,
From Chicago to West Virginia,
Ive been as lonesome as the world's first ghost."

(I just picked that song out at random. Listen to any Molina song and you can find beautiful sensory stanzas just like this)

In my life I have had my doubts, but tonight I think I've worked it out with all of them. - Hold On, Magnolia, from the album Magnolia Electric Co.

Even in the deepest despair of his songs, I can grasp onto a shadow of hope. Something that we can all use to pull ourselves up out of the pits we throw ourselves down into. But this pit is a deep one. I had read last year that Molina was not doing well. That rehab and medical bills had bankrupted him. That he had quit making music to raise chickens and sheep in West Virginia. That his liver was failing. And then it failed.

We lost a good one last week. Rest in peace, Jason Molina.