An Old Fart Listens To "Just Give Me A Reason"

Hi! My name is J (just one letter because my parents were convinced that the birth certificate people charged by the letter and they are frugal), and this is my very first post for All The Write Notes. So, who are you?

Good. Cool. Nice to meet you. How’s your mom and them?

Excellent.

Now that we’ve got the introductions out of the way, I guess I should tell you a little bit about me and music. I play the saxophone, piano, and, being from Mississippi, washboard. In fact, I’ve played music for too many years that I don’t want to count because dammit I’m old.

I don’t really listen to “modern” music--more of a polka fan myself. But this blog? Way too hip for Lawrence Welk appreciation. So, I thought and I thought and I thought what I could bring to this blog. And here is what I decided.

I’m going to look at the Billboard Top 100, take a song, and tell you what it’s all about in a segment I like to call “An Old Fart Listens to What You Youngsters Are All Jiving To And Explains It All”.

First--let’s look at the list. Hmmmmm. Something named Macklemore on here. Pretty sure that’s one of those “boutique” shops my wife buys a handbag for half a grand. Taylor Swift? If I get in touch with the feelings of a teenage girl, pretty sure that means jail time. Darius Rucker? Holy crap-on-a-stick-pickle, Hootie lost the Blowfish.

Ah--number one. Good place to start. This week’s number one is “Just Give Me A Reason” by Pink who once spelled her name P!nk and the lead singer of fun. which means this song must be all about unusual uses of punctuation. The other singers name is Nate Ruess. (Surprising tidbit--Nate was one doctorate away from having to listen to people say “Would you carry on in a box? Would you, could you, carry on with a fox?”)

So, here’s the song…

 

 At first, our heroine Pink sings about the loss of love.

“I let you see the parts of me that weren’t all that pretty”. Going to go out on a limb here and say that she had an open door bathroom policy. Then we get into the heavy stuff.

“You’ve been talking in your sleep…Uh oh…Things you never say to me…Uh oh” This, I believe is unfair to the young man. I mean, what if he had been dreaming about being chased by a giant egg roll? “Get AWAY, you ginormous mass of fried cabbage!” Pretty sure he’d never said that to her before.

Now, Dr Ruess comes in singing what NO GUY SHOULD EVER SAY. “Sorry I don’t understand where all this is coming from…” Really, Nate? Listen to someone who’s been married a few years--you might as well sung “I also think you’ve put on some weight and your mother is a hag…”

He then sings about it all being in her mind because he never wants to make whoopee again. Welcome to ‘Not tonight honey’-ville. Population Nate Dog.

Also, lost in all this is that something is written in the scars of their hearts which must mean they share a cardiologist. And he’s not acting very professional.

So, here it is--the “Old Fart Listens To What The Young Kids Are Jivving To And Explains It All” for “Just Give Me A Reason”:

Basically, Pink’s tired of Nate being all distant, mostly because of his dreams. Nate responds in the absolute worst way he possibly can, basically telling Pink she’s gone cray cray, and then then repeat the words “Our Love” four times because love. Then they sing about drinking and rust and other stuff because it’s supposed to be way deep and nothing is resolved in the end.

Basically, a description of my marriage.

So, what do you think of the song? Let me know!!!!!

Till Next Time,

J

On Rock Star Friends

The biggest problem in rock journalism is that often the writer’s main motivation is to become friends with the band. They’re not really journalists; they’re people who want to be involved in rock and roll. ~ Chuck Klosterman

A friend of mine sent me this quote a few days ago. This is why the music biz needs you! she gushed.

On the surface, Klosterman’s statement rings true for me. I think most rock journalists are, at heart, big music fans and big fans of the idea of rock and roll. You have to be. And we all know how easy it is to get lost in that idea, or get caught up in the hubris, or get too “into” bands—even local bands—with the sexdrugsrockandroll veil over our eyes. The prospect of befriending a big rock star is super tantalizing if you're caught up in the mystique.

As for me, what I “geek out” about are not the rock stars themselves—or merely the music—but the freedom that they have to be fully creative. I love hearing about that, and I like talking to rock stars the same way I like talking to strangers in a bar: it’s a risk but it’s usually fun, even if it’s all at arm’s length.

But to be real, live, hang-out friends with a rock star? Playing Scattergories together over crudites? For the most part, no.

It’s not about ruining the illusion. Illusions are meant to be used and quickly destroyed. I am very comfortable with the idea of famous rock stars making sandwiches, arguing with their family, and farting audibly. I also have enough non-famous musician friends to no longer be awed by the bullshit of rock and roll. The only rocker mythos I don’t dare disturb is Led Zeppelin’s because, let’s face it, their whole Aleister Crowley/Lord of the Rings thing is fucking awesome.

We salute you, Dark Lord Jimmy Page!

But if I’m being completely honest with myself, it's more about the fact that I’m totally not cool enough to be friends with a rock star.  

Plus, nobody likes journalists and music journalists are like the D&D-playing younger step siblings of the journalism world. The awkward tag-alongs of journalism. We are the dorks to the rock stars’ gods, and everyone knows it.

I think every music writer feels a little bit like a fraud; I know I do. How could we not? If we don’t feel that way a little bit, then we’re living a bigger illusion than the believers in the hype surrounding those we interview. We write about people way cooler than us instead of living way cooler lives ourselves. Even the "rock stars" of rock journos (such as they are anymore) are met with annoyance and indifference. The clout these big-name music writers once had is a thing of the past, and those guys themselves are like Quakers—once (and still occasionally) revolutionary, but facing extinction.

And yet we all continue. We occupy a strange place in the world, getting creative about others' creativity, working purely for passion and fun, and doing our best to keep up with the same imploding music industry that's confounding even the most talented and established musicians. 

The big question is... where do we go from here? A few things are for certain: Music will always matter and people who love music will always matter; therefore, people who write about music will always matter somehow because meaningful conversations will always matter—even between dorks and gods.

I think there's only one thing to do: How ’bout it, rock stars? Want to grab a beer sometime?

Universally Singular Sensations

Hey there. It's Angi Black. It's my first time at All The Write Notes. So hi and thanks for having me.

Today I wanna talk about why music and writing go are alike. Some people use music for inspiration. some people just don't like a room of quiet and music is preferred over screaming children. For me, songs are simply old friends. Books are my comfort food.

I have to have my music. I've been told if you cut my arm, I bleed music notes. I'm sure that's partly true..that and caffeine at least. But my point is, I NEED my music. I have a soundtrack to my life that tells you who I am and where I've been, but it also helps define me. My first album was one by the Beatles. The Red one, '62-'66, and I picked it out when I was three years old. I knew all the words six months later and for my fourth birthday my great uncle got me my own record player and I could work it by myself. I'm sure it's no small thing that I enjoy peace and love and long hair boys. See what I mean?

After that, I made some questionable choices in music, but the one thing remains constant, I buy the song because it speaks to me.

Maybe it reminds me of something, maybe it builds a world in my mind, maybe it tells me to dance. But no matter what, it says something to me. And here's where I get to the point.

Music is really one of two things, books being the other, that is something that is truly and singularly yours, but at the same time completely universal. I'm sure that album was a lot of people's first music memory, and while mine is fully mine, the exact same music, lyrics and cover means something equally powerful but totally different to them.

Think about it. You hear a song. You think, my god, that is exactly how I feel. This is MY song. It was made for me. And no one understands how I feel but me and this song. (Sorry, I let my inner emo girl write this post.) Time passes. You meet someone and circumstances become that you hear the song together. They say, OOh, I love this song.You say, Me too!!! You both commiserate about how the song got you through. It was your song. and it defined a moment and will always take you back.

But wait a minute.

That song was about you and only you got it fully. So how is it that something that is totally your own and feels deeply personal, was written by someone else about th human condition, and is universally accepted and embraced? How can it be yours and theirs and then yours together?

That's the magic of song. It can be something so personal and yet binds us universally together in harmony. Oh my god, music is The Force!(hey Inner Nerd, get back down in there.)
One song can means everything to one person and but connect many in their solitude.

The only other thing that can do that is a book. Books are much like songs. You read them. You get lost in a whole different world. It means something to you. Maybe it connects deep within you and you're so wrapped up in your book, you forget reality exists.

Is there anything more exciting than meeting someone and them loving the same book? You can discuss this and that and experience the emotion all over again. I love that moment you find out your have a book or a song in common with someone.

So here's to hoping today you get wrapped up in a song or write a book that becomes someone's singular(universal) sensation.