Peter Gabriel fails to scratch my itch

I am increasingly frustrated with the artistic process of Peter Gabriel.

For most of my life, PG has been one of my artistic heroes. His early solo work and the earliest years of Genesis shaped much of my musical aesthetic, both as an artist and a listener. I have appreciated and enjoyed every phase his career has gone through, from bold avant-rock to pure pop to world music and into fusion of all those styles. I have enjoyed it all.

Until now.

Gabriel's latest album, Scratch My Back is one half of an ambitious project: he would release an album of covers, then release an album of the bands he's covered covering him. I enjoy tribute cover albums of all kinds, Shared Vision (Beatles), Two Rooms (Elton John), Tales from Yesterday (Yes), Supper's Ready (Genesis), Strong Hand of Love (Mark Heard), and Different for Girls (Joe Jackson, by all female artists) all have strong places in my iPod playlists. So I'm looking forward to And You Scratch Mine.

But that's just the problem with new Gabriel: looking forward to it. It seems like Peter Gabriel always has a new project percolating, then about to come out, then behind schedule, then years behind schedule. His last album, Up, justified the delay by being the single most impactful moment in his career since (and possibly even eclipsing) 1982's Security. The problem was that it had been ten freaking years since his last album, the hot-and-cold Us.

With Scratch My Back, the delay was only (only!) eight years. Would that the wait had been worth it. The idea of Gabriel covering Bowie, Paul Simon, and Radiohead is interesting as hell, even if the entire rest of the album is a bunch of songs I've never heard of by artists I don't give a crap about. The problem is twofold: 1) the songs are all dismal and depressing as hell, even songs that were originally uptempo, and 2) the instrumentation is all piano and orchestra. No guitars, no synth, no bass, no drums. Look back at those last two omissions. No Tony Levin on bass and Chapman stick, and no Manu Katche, no Jerry Marotta, no drummers of Ekome, no massive thrumming rhythm. In other words, this is a Peter Gabriel album missing the two things most endemic to Peter Gabriel's music: his innovative songwriting and his unparalleled sense of rhythm.

Of course, for an album of covers you don't expect Gabriel's songwriting, but his sense of arrangement should be front and center here. I want to hear "Heroes" played by Peter Gabriel's band, not by some nameless orchestra with a rhythmless and fairly soulless arrangement. Joe Jackson did "Heroes" when I saw him in 2001 and I can still hear the arrangement in my head. I just listened to Gabriel's version 20 minutes ago and I already can't remember it.

Gabriel's albums hold my attention as few artists' do. Songs I've heard hundreds of time still keep me rapt, and I continue to notice new aspects of the arrangement and production. I can't believe I'm saying this about Peter Gabriel, but I just don't care about any of the music on this album as I'm listening to it. The sole exception is "Book of Love," which was released on a movie soundtrack a few years ago. That's a lovely one-off of PG with an orchestra, a charming and stirring little piece of intimacy. The rest is just string washes and bland horns obscuring a bunch of songs I didn't know in the first place. For the first time in his career, Peter Gabriel has had a big musical idea that turned out to be a bad one.

The biggest frustration of it all is that when Up came out in 2002 PG told interviewers that the ten years it had taken to create that album had resulted in so much music that he planned to release a follow-up album just two years later. Where is that elusive disc, for which I have been waiting since 2004? It's got to be better than Scratch My Back. At least I have to assume that it would sound like a Peter Gabriel album.

Thank you, Lee Hanchey.

From the Richmond Times-Dispatch:

Henrico art teacher honored for efforts

By Lisa Crutchfield

Published: January 24, 2009

A new building can be a blank canvas for an academic program.

Henrico County's new visual arts building in the Center for the Arts opened this month already embellished -- with a reputation for producing noted works by teachers, students and alumni.

Center director Lee Hanchey, who guided the program and the construction of the facility, says there is much more to come.

Last week, the School Board voted to name the building at Henrico High School for Hanchey, who has guided the center for the past 12 years.

"Lee Hanchey is an exceptionally gifted and dedicated educator, and her efforts have helped students and the center achieve local, regional and statewide recognitions," said Fred Morton IV, superintendent of schools. "Lee's bright personality is contagious, and her love of students and her profession will live on forever."

The arts program began in 1990 with about 30 students; today it has 228 students preparing for careers as visual artists, dancers and actors. Each year, hundreds audition or submit portfolios for admission to the competitive program.

Hanchey lobbied tirelessly for several years to get a visual arts building and was not above a little politicking.

"We used to do an architectural unit for students," she said. "They would draw plans for arts buildings and think about what kind of space they'd need."

"We'd bring School Board members in to judge," she added.

Eventually, the board agreed to fund the 6,975-square-foot building, which features four studios, a gallery and storage. Designed by Moseley Architects and constructed by Haley Builders, the building features large glass windows, skylights and a gallery. It cost $2.58 million.

The rooms were dedicated and named in honor of Morton, former School Board Chairman Lloyd E. Jackson Jr., former Henrico High School Principal William H. Parker, former visual arts teacher Jeffrey Hall and Henrico County Board of Supervisors member Frank J. Thornton.

Hall, who now is chairman of the fine arts department at Maggie L. Walker Governor's School, credits Hanchey as his mentor. "I often ask myself, 'WWLD?' -- or, 'What would Lee do?'" he said.

Classroom studios are large and airy, but Hanchey's favorite part of the building isn't immediately visible. It's a large closet that runs the length of the building. "We finally have storage," she said. "Holy cow! Who'd have ever thought we'd have storage?"

The arts program students said they appreciate the new facility.

"We have this amazing natural lighting," said 10th-grader Allie Ayers. "I absolutely love it."

In a recent Visual Arts II class, Ayers and classmate Ally Wolf were inking in cartoons.

"Before the new building, we were in the theater room," Wolf said. "We sat on the floor because there were no tables."

During the arts program's history, students often worked in makeshift facilities. Before the auditorium was renovated several years ago, the dance and theater students would overheat because the space did not have air conditioning. "We had to ice the kids down backstage," Hanchey said.

The new Lee Hanchey Visual Arts Building is a culmination of Hanchey's career at Henrico -- which also is her alma mater. "I was in the first graduating class in 1965," she said. "I got a great education here."

She holds bachelor's and master's degrees from Virginia Commonwealth University. A musician by training, she returned to the school in 1979 as a choral teacher.

"We're lucky to have this space and this program," she said. "Parents tell me that their child found themselves here. Children tell me they've found friends here.

"We cultivate that," she said. "They have a place to explore their capabilities."

Cyd Charisse: 1922-2008

From the New York Times:

Cyd Charisse Dies in Los Angeles at Age 86

By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

Published: June 18, 2008

Filed at 8:14 a.m. ET

LOS ANGELES (AP) -- Cyd Charisse, the long-legged Texas beauty who danced with the Ballet Russe as a teenager and starred in MGM musicals with Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly, has died. She was 86.

Charisse was admitted to Cedars-Sinai Medical Center on Monday after suffering an apparent heart attack, said her publicist, Gene Schwam. She died Tuesday.

Charisse appeared in dramatic films, but her fame came from the Technicolor musicals of the 1940s and 1950s.

Classically trained, she could dance anything, from a pas de deux in 1946's ''Ziegfeld Follies'' to the lowdown Mickey Spillane satire of 1956's ''The Band Wagon'' (with Astaire).

She also forged a popular song-and-dance partnership on television and in nightclub appearances with her husband, singer Tony Martin.

Her height was 5 feet, 6 inches, but in high heels and full-length stockings, she seemed serenely tall, and she moved with extraordinary grace. Her flawless beauty and jet-black hair contributed to an aura of perfection that Astaire described in his 1959 memoir, ''Steps in Time,'' as ''beautiful dynamite.''

Her name was Tula Ellice Finklea when she was born in Amarillo, Texas, on March 8, 1922. From her earliest years she was called Sid, because her older brother couldn't say ''sister.'' She was a sickly girl who started dancing lessons to build up her strength after a bout with polio.

Oh, sweet, sweet Cyd Charisse. Arguably the greatest dance in the history of the movie musical, and one of the sexiest women to ever grace the silver screen. Green dress. Singin' in the Rain. "Broadway melody." Yowza.

Charisse kind of fills the same category as Marni Nixon for me: just under a household name in movie musical history, but a singular talent that defined the genre, beloved by aficionados and performers alike. She didn't just sparkle, she somehow managed to draw focus and make the others on screen with her look better at the same time.

There is dancing in Heaven today.

Musical Christmas for Andrew

New albums come out this week by both T-Bone Burnett and Sam Phillips, probably my two favorite songwriters not named Joe Jackson. I'm headed out to Plan 9 to get both Burnett's The Tooth of Crime and Phillips' Don't Do Anything today. Reviews soon.

On the subject of music, Karen and I went to the Progressive Nation 2008 show at the National last Tuesday. Dang, is that a great place to see a concert! Dream Theater headlined and were amazing, and Between the Buried and Me and Opeth were big hits (though I didn't much care for them), but the discovery of the night was Three, the band that started the whole shebang. Prog music fans should look them up; they are something special.

QUICK EDIT: The new Sam is magnificent. She just gets better and better.

I'm having a harder time getting into T-Bone's new joint; there's a lot of spoken-word, which I like from him, but I like his melodies a lot too. After one spin, I found myself digging out The Talking Animals for a listen. Theatre fans: you may recognize Tooth of Crime as the title of a Sam Shepard play. This album is indeed the score from a 1996 production of the play, and Shepard co-writes the album's final track.

Bigger reviews soon.

The Northern Kings Rule.

What could possibly be better than four metal frontmen from Finland combining to form a symphonic metal supergroup to record an album of '80s covers?

I know for my part that I've been waiting for years to find out what a band featuring Marco Hietala from Nightwish, Tony Kakko from Sonata Arctica, JP Leppäluoto from Charon and J Ahola from Teräsbetoni would sound like.

Check out the Northern Kings' MySpace page.

I can't wait for this album to be available in the US.

Ten Albums

Jill Bari's blog is on fire with "Ten Favorite Movies List" hysteria. I thought I'd stir the pot a bit by turning the subject sideways, listing my ten favorite albums, and asking readers to do the same. No rules except your rules.

I've updated this list to include some descriptions because everybody else has and I should have in the first place.

In alphabetical order:

Bruce Cockburn - Dart to the Heart. Some of Cockburn's most beautiful songwriting and acoustic guitar playing highlights this collection of love songs. This album consistently makes me cry and smile, often simultaneously. It also has the gorgeous "Closer to the Light," a tribute to Mark Heard written after his passing.

Dream Theater - Octavarium. I could have also listed Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence, but this album is a bit better concentrated. Chunk, groove, brains, and soaring majesty in equal doses. One of the greatest prog-rock albums of all time. Worth it just for the orchestra coming back in for the climax.

Peter Gabriel - Security. Seriously, Gabriel's Sgt. Pepper. This is the album that made me start taking music seriously. A sonic masterpiece indeed, one of the first all-digital recordings. "San Jacinto" demolishes me.

Genesis - Selling England by the Pound. The purest example of early Genesis, from Gabriel's a capella intro through the mournful, unsettling reprise at the end. Foxtrot is also great, but there's storytelling in the instrumental passages of "Dancing with the Moonlit Knight," "Firth of Fifth," and "Cinema Show" that I've never heard before or since.

Mark Heard - Dry Bones Dance. This is an album that I love more every time I hear it. Zydeco, dixieland, folk, country, and rock influence create a sonic songwriting gumbo matched only in its brilliance by Heard's lyrics. "Mercy of the Flame" is probably my favorite song in the world right now.

Joe Jackson - Heaven and Hell. How to choose one Jackson album? You pick the one that's most unique and least likely to ever be duplicated. This one is a neoclassical techno-orchestral song cycle based on the Seven Deadly Sins, featuring Suzanne Vega (lust), Brad Roberts (sloth), Jane Siberry (envy), Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg (the devil as violin), and the usual cast of Jackson's genius collaborators. It was even performed as a musical by the Boston Conservatory last year. I'd like to point out that they stole my Night and Day idea, highlighting the importance of some theatre in Richmond helping me produce it professionally as soon as possible.

Rich Mullins - A Liturgy, a Legacy, and a Ragamuffin Band. Again, how to choose one Mullins album? Mainly for the opening-side trilogy of "52:10," "The Color Green," and "Creed," all three of which astonish me every time. Mullins may be the most passionate songwriter I have ever heard, and this is his most passionate and best-produced work.

Sam Phillips - A Boot and a Shoe. So sad, so smart, so obtuse, and so sexy. Sam has a new album coming out this summer, and it's worth counting the days until.

The Who - Quadrophenia. A double-album of teenage angst written with such passion and poetry that it should be issued at the door of every high school. "Love, Reign O'er Me" is simply an irreplaceable song; there is nothing like it.

Yes - Tales from Topographic Oceans. Massive, pretentious, bloated, obscure. Gorgeous. Don't change a note.

My apologies to brilliant albums by Kansas, T-Bone Burnett, Jane Siberry, Pete Townshend, King Crimson, the Beatles, Dan Fogelberg, Cindy Morgan, Charlie Peacock, Tom Waits, Steve Hackett, and so many others who didn't make the list. It was quite exclusive and hard to get into.

What's next, ten favorite plays?

The Trouble With Love Songs

I wrote a song last month that I'm exceedingly proud of. It's called "...And Feast Upon Her Eyes," and it's inspired by the experience of doing Measure for Measure.

The chorus, in fact, is lifted directly from a soliloquy about Isabella by Angelo:

What, do I love her
That I desire
To hear her speak again
And feast upon her eyes?

I was telling my wife about it (I'm not even sure she's heard the whole song at this point) and she remarked that everyone would likely think it was a song about her.

I've been thinking about love songs ever since, partly due to this and partly because I'm using a lot of love songs for the current production of As You Like It. In fact, I'm finding myself writing a boatload of love songs over the past several weeks. This is quite unusual for me; I have scores of songs in my catalog but very few of them could be qualified as "love songs," and precisely two of them are about my wife ("A Simple Man" and "You Are Home").

It's actually problematic to be married or in a committed relationship and write love songs, for a couple reasons: 1) Not a lot of great music comes out of being happily in love, as opposed to the brilliance that often arises from conflict, frustration, and unrequited attraction, and 2) Everyone assumes everything you write is about your current significant other. There's a third, universal problem with love songs, as well: 3) It is also assumed that your love song is about a real person or situation in your life.

This last is a particularly baffling issue. Peter Gabriel was able to write "Intruder" without actually breaking into somebody's house; John Lennon wrote "Norwegian Wood" without being an arsonist; none of the Who were deaf, dumb, and blind like Tommy; and Harry Chapin was a bit too young to have the adult son of "Cat's in the Cradle." Yes, I'll concede that most of the greatest art is created from a place of honesty and personal experience. But an artist who can't add a substantial element of pure invention is less a creator and more of a diarist, isn't s/he? Isn't making stuff up most of the fun of being an artist?

Tennessee Williams used to refer to his plays as "emotional autobiography;" the events weren't from his life but his feelings about the relationships in his life fueled the stories. I've held to this theory in my playwriting in particular: the guilt-ridden heartbreaker in The Blizzard of '93 and the son who fears that he and his father have nothing in common in Awake in Pennsylvania. It's much more prevalent in my songwriting, and in my love songs in particular. I have written songs and plays that are inspired by real people and events in my life, but I'm generally not telling, unless it's funny (Michelle Kwan in "Hero") or very important (Steve Irwin in "Unafraid").

Perhaps no kind of writing can be as stream-of-consciousness as lyrics. Often I'll just come up with a turn of phrase, like "Stream of Conscience," which ended up being a song about accepting guilt, or "She Is a Match" (another new song, just finished yesterday), and the rest of the story will flow. "She Is a Match" is a great example; it's got some really specific lyrics (again, more than a little bit inspired by Measure, but taking off quickly in another direction) that certainly bear a scent of reality. It doesn't necessarily follow there's a "she" in the world that correlates with the song; in fact, the first-person voice certainly doesn't have to be me specifically. Of course, there might be a she, and I might be the me; that's the mystery, isn't it? Maybe the real trick is to see if I can write something honest enough that you're fooled into believing it must be autobiographical. And at least some part of it always is, or else I wouldn't care enough about the subject matter to write the thing in the first place.

What may be more important is trying to capture the spirit of the experience of someone who might hear your song or see your play. After all, it's for the audience isn't it? My actual romantic life has, with a couple exceedingly painful exceptions, been quite tame. I dated my high school sweetheart for three years until she dumped me, then I rebounded for a few months with a younger girl with the same kinky hair and same first name. I left my college girlfriend because I met Karen and it was pretty obvious the way that had to go. Everything has, for the most part, been tales of long-term commitment; I never dated around, and I seldom pined for someone I couldn't have. I've had my heart broken a couple times, and I severely broke one myself. In other words, I'd pretty much mined the depths of my ability to write autobiographical songs of heartbreak by age 30.

Which brings me back to the original question: why the sudden flux of love songs? I blame Shakespeare. Measure for Measure was a pretty hot show, and As You Like It is absurdly romantic, with four couples getting married at the end. I guess I'm just feeling amorous about love in general.

Of course, everything I just wrote could be a pack of lies, as well... ;^)

If you love love, then love loves you, too. --Bruce Cockburn.

I Don't Want to Live on the Moon

Well I'd [C]like to [C/B]visit the [Am]moon
on a [F]rocket ship [G]high in the [C]air
Yes I'd [C]like to [C/B]visit the [Am]moon
but I [F]don't think I'd [G]like to live [C]there
Though I'd [F]like to look [F/E]down at the [Dm7]earth from [C]above
I would [F]miss all the [F/E]places and [Dm7]people I [C]love
So al[F]though I might [C]like it for [G]one after[Am]noon
I [F]don't want to [G]live on the [C]moon

I'd like to [C]travel [C/B]under the [Am]sea
I could [F]meet all the [G]fish every[C]where
Yes I'd [C]travel [C/B]under the [Am]sea
but I [F]don't think I'd [G]like to live [C]there
I might [F]stay for a [F/E]day there if [Dm7]I had my [C]wish
But there's [F]not much to [F/E]do when your [Dm7]friends are all [C]fish
And an [F]oyster and [C]clam aren't [G]real fami[Am]ly
So I [F]don't want to [G]live in the [C]sea

Bridge
I'd like to [F]visit the [C]jungle hear the [G]lions [C]roar
[F]Go back in [F/E]time and meet a [G]dino[C]saur
There's so [F]many strange [C]places [G]I'd like to [Am]be
But [F]none of them [G]permanent[C]ly

So if [C]I should [C/B]visit the [Am]moon
well I'll [F]dance on a [G]moonbeam and [C]then
I will [C]make a [C/B]wish on a [Am]star
and I'll [F]wish I was [G]home once a[C]gain
Though I'd [F]like to look [F/E]down at the [Dm7]earth from a[C]bove
I would [F]miss all the [F/E]places and [Dm7]people I [C]love
So al[F]though I may [C]go I'll be [G]coming home [Am]soon
Cuz I [F]don't want to [G]live on the [C]moon
No I [F]don't... want to [G]live... on the [C]moon [C/B] [Am] [F] [G] [C]

(I can't take credit for the chord chart, but it's very likely that I'll play this song next time I do a gig.)

Music Video: "Emily Ann" by GUM!

Look how cute I was with hair! Behold my unrequited love for a character played by my wife!

The band, GUM!, features Patrick Hamm and Peter Hamm on guitars, Philip Hamm on bass, and Chris Renzi on drums. Their album, Chew, was loaded with ahead-of-their-time computer goodies; games, video, behind-the-scenes footage, interviews, and other stupidity.

Five Albums I've Been Listening To

The cast of As You Like It and I have been talking about (and singing) 80s love songs at rehearsal. What is it about love songs from that decade, as opposed to the years since, that makes them seem more comfortable? My theory is that the rise of alternative and grunge music circa 1990 did something funny to love songs. After REM and Nirvana, you couldn't have love without misery, loss, and irony (real irony, not the Alanis Morrissette kind). The 80s were really the last era where unapologetically goofy love songs were shamelessly prevalent.

This realization has a lot to do with why I have tons of 80s music on my Juke playlist right now.

It's been a while since I've written this theme; so long, in fact, that I'm not at all certain I can count to five any more.

Joe Jackson - Laughter and Lust. Okay, I'm pretty much always listening to at least one album by Joe Jackson. Fair enough. But hear me out: this 1991 pop masterpiece was beautifully written, carefully recorded, perfectly delivered, and promptly ignored by the record industry because grunge had just arrived and changed everything. This album always breaks my heart a bit to listen to, because it could have and should have been huge. It has some of my favorite Jackson songs, like "The Other Me," "Obvious Song," and "Stranger than Fiction," none of which got jack for radio play. The experience of having this disc tossed overboard by the industry threw Jackson onto a depression that made him quit pop music for the next decade. Our gain, I suppose, since the intimate Night Music, the magnificent Heaven and Hell and the Grammy-winning Symphony #1 were the result. this album is a gem; if you like Jackson's hits from the 70s and 80s you should pick it up somewhere.

Huey Lewis and the News - Greatest Hits. Sure, the production values (listen to that snare drum, for crying out loud) are totally rooted in their source years, but man is this some great songwriting. These songs transcend the limits of their era, not to mention just how squeaky-clean the lyrics are. Come on, The Power of Love" is just a great song by any definition, and the rock-roots orchestrations and inspiration are timeless. On those mornings when you look in the mirror, frown at those wrinkles, and curse those last seven pounds that won't come off, listen to a little Huey Lewis and be thankful that you're over 30. You got to be there when this was pop.

Donald Fagen - The Nightfly. I've been trying to learn a couple of these songs on piano ("New Frontier" in particular), and Fagen just baffles me. The voicings and interval choices end up being so easy once I've got them, but so hard to figure out that it would make me pull my hair out, had I hair. The Nightfly Lacks the bite Walter Becker brings to their Steely Dan collaborations, but it does make your head bob the same way the Dan does, and it's just immaculately produced. How someone as cynical as Fagen can create an album that sounds so sweet and bouncy is a mystery. That object on the table in the cover photo is called a "record player," boys and girls. It's what old people used to listen to music on before iPods. And here's a little secret: sometimes music still sounds better on that antique device than on CD...

Sam Phillips - A Boot and a Shoe. I haven't been able to take this CD out of my car for over two years. The more I listen to Sam Phillips' last two albums, Fan Dance and this one, the more I want to pick up a guitar, find some oddball seventh bar chords, and just strum with my fingers. She has an almost supernatural ability to take a lyric and melody that sound like they're going nowhere, then resolve them in a phrase so perfect you just sigh, "That line couldn't have ended any other way." Sparse arrangements, that incredibly sexy voice, and some of the best lyrics about heartbreak make this collection of postmodern-retro torch songs one of my top five favorite albums of all time. Just go get it. Never heard of Sam Phillips? Doesn't matter. It's worth it just for her voice and Jay Bellerose's bass drum. Turn the subwoofer on and secure the china. Warning: this album may cause you to develop an irresistible urge to write songs.

Steve Hackett - Till We Have Faces. I'm in a big Hackett kick right now, and this 1983 album features some really bold, experimental work married to huge Brazilian drums. Hackett has an odd way of taking a neat musical idea and marrying it to another that completely contradicts it and somehow making it work for twice as long as it has any business working. Case in point, the epic "Matilda Smith-Williams Home for the Aged," an incredibly weird beginning about a strict retirement community that finishes with six minutes of instrumental drums and dramatic guitar melodies. The song doesn't really have enough ideas to justify its length, but I keep listening to it over and over. It's followed by the sexy-as-hell blues ballad "Let Me Count the Ways," as sharp a turn as I've ever heard between two songs on the same album. Till we Have Faces is a must-hear if for no other reason than the instrumental "When You Wish Upon a Star" at the end, with it's singing-saw-synth. Anyone who can explain the structure of this album to me gets a gold star.

Review: Joe Jackson - "Rain"

Joe Jackson
Rain
Ryko, 2008
Produced by Joe Jackson

I am a completely unapologetic fan of Joe Jackson. Ever since Phil handed down his vinyl copies of Night and Day, Look Sharp!, Blaze of Glory, and Body and Soul I have been completely hooked. Joe is simply everything I love about songwriting. He effortlessly jumps genres to serve the story or the vibe, sometimes from song to song on an album, but just as frequently from album to album. From the New Wave energy of his first three albums to jump-swing, Latin-retro and jazz-pop for the next few to concept albums, film scores, avant-minimalism, a Grammy-winning symphony, and a neoclassical song cycle about the seven deadly sins to 2002's orginal band reunion album, there is no modern musical artist who has explored so many musical styles with greater commitment and facility than Joe Jackson. When Joe has a new album coming out, you never know quite what to expect.

Regardless of what I expected from Joe's new piano trio album Rain, what arrived in my mailbox were ten of the most deftly-written, beautifully-played songs of his storied career. Rain is a deceptively simple-sounding album, just Joe on piano, Graham Maby on bass, and Dave Houghton on drums, all three on vocals, produced simply and elegantly with no tricks or gimmicks. It advances Jackson's songwriting while somehow managing to hearken back to his early years and even back to early Steely Dan and '60s jazz-pop. It is a singular album, somehow modern, retro and timeless all at the same time. And I know I say this every time, but it's one of the best works Joe has ever produced.

Every single song is simply great; true of a few of Joe's records, but maybe never since Night and Day to this extent. I think I listened to "Invisible Man," the opening song three or four times before I even moved on to the rest of the album. The track's syncopated groove and odd vocal phrasing are baffling but completely logical at the same time, and the chorus is just fantastic. It's just a great song; I've been singing the chorus to myself for three days. The third track, "Citizen Sane," reminds me (as a lot of the record does) of early Fagen & Becker, and features strong lyrics reflecting Jackson's recent stands against the gentrificaltion of our minds and opinions: "All you kings and martyrs / All the little girls and boys / Will thank you when you start us / Safely on the way to be Citizen Sane."

Sanity and insanity, not so much real as perceived in the eyes of the fun- and thought-police are recurring themes, along with the sadnesses of lost love, from the melancholy of "Wasted Time" (my favorite track on the album, and the first one I'm going to learn to play) to the abject despair of "Solo (So Low)," which made me weep in my car when I first heard it. There's a bit of the goofy Jackson here, in the throwback "King Pleasure Time" and "Good Bad Boy," and sheer grinning playfulness in "Rush Across the Road." The album's most purely delightful track is probably "The Uptown Train," a toe-tapping homage to the '60s Billy Page instrumental "The 'In' Crowd," which Joe covered on 2000's Summer in the City live album.

An entire album of piano, bass and drums has certain sonic limitations, but Joe transcends these with some of the most intricate and subtle arrangements of his career. Key changes and unusual modulations are everywhere, nowhere more beautifully than in the bridge of "Wasting Time." Chord changes seem to come out of nowhere, but when the phrase ends they are obviously the only way the song could possibly have gone. From a pure songwriting perspective, Rain is one of Jackson's greatest triumphs, and that's saying something. I spend almost every moment listening to this album in sheer delight at the magic of its songcraft. It's a collection of music that reminds me why I love music, and makes me want to go out and make my own.

It strikes me every time I hear Joe play a piano-heavy song how much his piano playing resembles mine. Fairly simple left hand (Joe's because he's leaving room for Maby's bass, mine because I'm a lousy pianist with a left hand like a bunch of bananas), song-serving right hand grooves, and big chords under a dominant vocal line. Never has this been so evident as on Rain, where I hear Joe Jackson playing the piano lines I would have played if I had written these songs. Ironically, I do plan for my next studio album to be a piano trio CD, an idea I've had for about 5 years but which has been solidified by just how beautiful Rain is.



EDIT: Raves coming in for Rain!

BBC:
"Joe Jackson returns with arguably his most consistent collection yet."

Slant Magazine:
"It's a terrific set of songs ... The nicest surprise is how good the guy's become at writing love songs ... it's a joy to deconstruct the song's craft."

New York Daily News:
"Joe Jackson plays piano on two levels. The way he performs, the instrument has the kick of rock as well as the sweep of Broadway. As both a writer and a player, Jackson is terse in his intonations, but broad in his melodic sense. His work can be tough and beautiful at once. It's hard to miss all that when spinning his latest CD, "Rain," which you should do often.... 'Wasted Time' feels like a classic.... Given the dash of his tunes, and the theatricality of his playing, one wonders why this ambitious man has yet to pen a musical. If Duncan Sheik can do it with 'Spring Awakening,' surely the artist behind 'Rain' can, too." (Thanks, Daily News. I've been saying that for years! Fortunately, a Dracula musical is Jackson's next project.)

Bullzeye.com:
"...finds Joe Jackson at his absolute, shimmering best.... The coolest part of Rain, though, might be the musical breadcrumbs Jackson drops in his songs, inviting us along on tour of the many and varied influences from which the accomplished songwriter/piano man draws."

New Joe Jackson!

Joe Jackson's first new album in five years (a very long time by JJ standards) came out this week! The mailman just delivered my signed copy!

I'll review it as soon as I can get around to listening to it all. All I know is that the whole album is piano trio with JJ on keys, Graham Maby on bass, and Dave Houghton on drums. The first track, "Invisible Man," at least, is vintage freaking Joe.

Frank Creasy and I are sacrificing our chance to see him at the 9:30 Club on April 10 in favor of doing some silly Shakespeare thing...

Probably the Greatest Album Cover of All Time

I recently picked up a whole lot of old and obscure Kansas and Kansas-related music from various sources. For those of you who don't know, I grew up in a house of older brothers who liked progressive rock in the 1970s, and I still seriously dig bombastic music from the likes of Kansas, Yes, Genesis, ELP, Renaissance and Dream Theater. While I've been seriously grooving on some great old live Kansas stuff from 1976 and 1980 as well as much of the Kerry Livgren solo stuff I've never been able to find, the real prize was unexpected. It wasn't even music. It was the cover to Kansas singer Steve Walsh's 1980 solo album, Schemer-Dreamer.

Check out all its majesty:


I'll describe it for the visually-impaired.

The whole cover is a painting. At the top of the picture is the artist's name, "STEVE WALSH," in huge block letters in a font that would not look out of place on the side of a football helmet. Under that, bracketed by the tiny words "SCHEMER" and "DREAMER" is the man's face, lips slightly parted as he sings or perhaps concentrates on a distant moving object, his hair ruffled by the wind. A mountain range resembling the Grand Tetons stretches across the background, with a blanket of green trees covering its roots.

To the right of giant-Steve-face is a three-quarters, or "cowboy" shot of Steve singing. he is shirtless; in fact he wears only a pair of red short-shorts. His torso ripples with muscles. To the left of giant-Steve-face is another Steve of the same scale as singing-Steve which can only be called athletic-Steve. Athletic-Steve's entire body can be seen performing a vault of some kind, revealing athletic footwear and knee pads. His torso ripples with muscles. The short-shorts are the same.

(In the interest of full disclosure, it should be mentioned here that the shorts-and-kneepads combo is what Steve wore for most or all Kansas gigs in the 70s. It wasn't a fashion statement, it was utilitarian; he covered every inch of that stage during a high-energy performance, and in fact used to do handstands on his keyboard--I've seen him do it as late as summer of 2000. It's amazing. He wore shorts because he would have sweat through his clothes in short order, and kneepads because of, well, knee protection. But you know what? Peter Gabriel and his band wore knee pads in the 1980s, and they had the decency to keep their shirts on for the concerts and album covers.)

At the bottom of the frame, stretching from side to side in the shadow of the mountains is the inside of a massive stadium, with the silhouetted figures of what appear to be roadies stacking rectangles of various sizes and shapes around a huge rock band setup.

But this is the best part: Dominating the picture, directly underneath giant-Steve-face and apparently in the middle of the stadium scene is a fourth, greatest Steve: NRA-Steve. Still shirtless, now wearing yellow shorts or pants, his hip cocked to the side to match his devil-may-care smirk, Steve is pointing not one but two massive handguns directly at the viewer, one of which has a scope of some sort on it (not really appropriate for a pistol). He's wearing sunglasses and, for safety's sake, ear protection. Yes, it would be a shame if he damaged his hearing from the sound of his enormous handguns blowing gaping, bloody holes in the fans who bought his album. His torso, of course, ripples with muscles.

Here's what the All Music Guide has to say about the cover:

"A great album cover should give an indication of the sound of an album, or at least its sensibility. Happily, that much is indeed true with Steve Walsh's solo debut, Schemer-Dreamer, which sports what very well could be the greatest album cover in rock history. There are no less than four illustrations of Walsh, all shirtless and in running shorts, with the point of focus being an image of Walsh in sunglasses towering over a stadium and pointing two guns at the viewer (thankfully, he's being safe and wearing ear protection); above it is a glamorous head shot silhouetted by a mountain range, with his hair looking appropriately wind-swept; to the right is a shot of him singing and to the left, he's engaged in an indiscernible athletic activity. It's a portrait of an id raging out of control -- it's the Dirk Diggler album brought to life!"

Don't ask me what Schemer-Dreamer sounds like. I haven't heard it yet and may never listen to it. I want to savor the mental image I have of what it should sound like, a sort of combination of "Hold Your Head Up," "Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight," and "Trogdor." If there's another 1980 arena-rock machismo cliche that can be squeezed into the picture, I can't figure out what it could be or how it could fit in there.

Steve Walsh is a great singer, probably my favorite rock vocalist of all time. But this album cover is clearly his greatest contribution to civilization. Thank you, Steve Walsh, for the exercise in huge ego and horrible judgment that greets viewers of the cover to Schemer-Dreamer. #### "Dust in the Wind." Your place in the rock pantheon is secure.

Coming Full Circle with Dan Fogelberg

I swung by Best Buy in Short Pump on the off-chance of finding one of the many Fogelberg albums I don't have, and surprise! They had Full Circle, his 2003 final album.

I've just started listening to it, and it is just delightful. It's a real throwback to his early sounds and influences, complete with a downright country Gene Clark song. Most amusing of all is the "Musicians" list, which begins:

Dan Fogelberg - all guitars (electric, acoustic, lead, rhythm, and otherwise), mandolin, bass, piano, keyboards, percussion, lead and background vocals).

I am reminded of the credits for the Who's Quadrophenia, which read:

Roger Daltrey - vocals
John Entwistle - bass, horns
Keith Moon - drums
Pete Townshend - remainder

Anyway, I'll post a more complete review when I get a couple listens.

Dan Fogelberg: 1951-2007

Singer-songwriter Dan Fogelberg died Sunday morning at home in Maine. He had been battling advanced prostate cancer since 2004.

More than any other single musician, Fogelberg was the reason I am a musician and a songwriter. My sister Lisa introduced me to him in the early '80s with The Innocent Age, an album that remains one of my favorites. Every time Lisa and I went anywhere, I wanted to hear The Innocent Age on the stereo, mainly the first side of the tape. I must have worn out her cassette. Every time I hear that album, I can remember where the squeaks and thin spots in her tape made funny noises 20 years ago. He was the first person I would ever identify as "my favorite 'band'." I sang "Leader of the Band" for my first musical audition in 1987.

Dan Fogelberg was a pioneering voice of what would become soft-rock, which leads many to miss his folk and American roots influences, not to mention his intricate songwriting. He was a master musician, a guitarist and pianist both. And he was a magnificent songwriter, able to swing from the deeply personal to the the soaring epic at will.

Like Rich Mullins, my current musical hero (also deceased), Dan was a product of Midwestern upbringing. Like Rich, Dan played every instrument he needed to get the song out right, and like Rich he wasn't afraid to overdo or underdo an orchestration, from pedal steel twang to solo piano to rock guitar to fully orchestrated grandiose works. It's amazing to me, as I sit here typing this, how much Rich and Dan have in common: musical similarities, mid-American background, passion for the natural world, and death far too young.

Dan Fogelberg was never ever cool. His sound ended up becoming the template for soft rock, with too-earnest hits like "Longer," "Leader of the Band," "Run for the Roses" (a song I frankly can't stand), and "Same Auld Lang Syne" defining his career. His approach, and especially his voice, were painfully earnest and passionate; he seemed to care too much about what he was singing. You wanted him to calm down a little bit; he was embarrassing himself.

Like me. Dan Fogelberg sang the way I feel almost all the time.

He was never cool, but managed to be accessible to a large audience. He had a long string of hugely popular albums: 1974's Souvenirs, 1975's Captured Angel, 1977's Nether Lands, 1978's indescribably wonderful and completely unique Twin Sons of Different Mothers (with floutist Tim Weisberg), 1980's Phoenix, and 1981's epic double-album The Innocent Age. You know a half dozen songs of his by heart and don't even know it: "Part of the Plan," "Heart Hotels," "The Power of Gold," and the ones referenced above, just to start. He continued to record after his heyday was over, and while the records didn't sell huge numbers, the concert tickets did.

I was fortunate enough to see Dan on the Exiles tour in the mid-'80s. He pulled out an acoustic guitar to play a solo number and told us that we were the first audience to hear this new song, called "Forefathers." The only person he had played it for was his immigrant grandmother, and he wasn't sure if he was going to record it or not. He played it; it was beautiful. After the applause died down, a lone voice in the audience shouted, "RECORD IT!" He did, on his next album, The Wild Places.

It's easy to dismiss Dan Fogelberg as having a sound rooted in 1970s rock. But it's more accurate to say that 1970s rock had a sound that was rooted in the songwriting of Dan Fogelberg. Modern music may not have another pioneer quite as overlooked. He suffers from the legacy of schmaltz that followed his example, tarred with a brush he never quite deserved. It isn't schmaltz if you're sincere, and Dan Fogelberg's music bleeds painful sincerity with every note.

Dan Fogelberg is the biggest reason, aside from my essential design by God, that I am a musician. He is a big part of why I endeavor to play both piano and guitar. And he sure as hell is the first person who made me want to write songs. Because of Dan, my first memories of playing piano and guitar are of writing my own songs, not learning anyone else's — not even his.

Like me, Dan Fogelberg has never quite been cool. Like me, he didn't seem to care at all; his artistic voice was his voice, and it was going to be what it was.

Today I've lost a mentor I never met. Godspeed, Dan Fogelberg. The leader of the band can rest at last.

* * *

Dan's website still has his final public statements, including a May 2004 plea for men to get a prostate exam.

CNN's coverage reads, in part: "Fogelberg's music was powerful in its simplicity. He didn't rely on the volume of his voice to convey his emotions; instead, they came through in the soft, tender delivery and his poignant lyrics. Songs like "Same Old Lang Syne" — in which a man reminisces after meeting an old girlfriend by chance during the holidays — became classics not only because of his performance, but also for the engaging storyline."

All Music Guide's beautiful obituary reads, in part: "It’s odd to say that a singer/songwriter with four Top 10 singles and four Top 10 albums each, along with a stack of gold and platinum records, slipped through the cracks, but in an odd way Dan Fogelberg — who died on December 16 after a three-year struggle with prostate cancer — was often taken for granted.... [H]is music was so song-oriented — his albums sounding so clean, pure, and tasteful.... All of this was delivered with the gentle, easy touch that was his signature. It may have been a signature that was never, ever hip but that doesn’t quite mean that he was square. He was too much a child of the ‘60s to be square, too much a true believer in the music — specifically folk-rock — and what it meant and could be."

Andrew Hamm Band LIVE ALBUM RECORDING November 11!

Dear friends,

I hope to see you all on Sunday, November 11 from 6:30-8:30 PM at ComedySportz Improv Theatre for the recording of MY FIRST-EVER LIVE ALBUM!

I've been writing a ton of new music in the past few years, and it's come too fast to be efficiently recorded in the studio. So what's a songwriter to do? The answer was obvious: play a show full of brand-new, unrecorded music, record it, and make a CD in 2008. Come on out to hear a bunch of songs that no audience has ever heard, with a few surprises thrown in to boot.

From the sacred to the secular to the silly, the show features my brother Philip Hamm on bass and my nephew Joseph Hamm on drums. Cheer, clap, and sing along, and hear yourself on the CD!

Go to http://www.comedysportzrichmond.com/ for more information about the venue, and call (804) 266-9377 to buy your tickets! A mere $10 for adults, $7 for students. That's a STEAL for two hours of awesome music from Andrew Hamm and His Foolhardy Band!

I'm Playing the Chesterfield Fall Music Festival

This Saturday, September 22, I'm going to be one of four artists playing at the Chesterfield Fall Music Festival, sponsored by the Amazing Grace Coffee House. The other artists include Somewhat Undecided and Dale Traylor.

The festival runs from 4:00 to 8:00 at the Lutheran Church of Our Saviour, 9601 Hull Street Road. Here's a map. It's free, and there are cheesesteaks!

I'm scheduled to start at 5:45 and could go as long as 7:00. Dang, that's a lot of music! I'm going to bounce between piano and guitar, as is my wont of late, and a lot of new songs are going to make their public debut. I'm very jazzed about this show for itself, but also as a way to try out some material in preparation for the November 11 show at ComedySportz, which will be recorded as a live album.

I hope to see a bunch of you there!

What's Next?

Grant Mudge complained today that I hadn't updated this thing in a while, so here's an update with no actual content.

Here's what next for Ange Hamm:

1) I'm thinking about changing the template on this blog. Just a different look for the hell of it. Your thoughts?

2) I'm mastering the very simply-recorded music from The Tempest, which was recorded early-20th-century style. We just set up a stationary mic and gathered around it, all playing at once, no multitracking or punching in. If an instrument was too loud, we moved it away from the mic. Pretty cool in theory, but some of the vocals are pretty rough in actuality. What do I do? Do I release it for sale, and if so, how do I secure the rights to the T-Bone Burnett, Sam Phillips, Mark Heard, Bruce Cockburn, and Tom Waits songs? If you go to my MySpace Music page, you just might hear a track...

3) I think I'm going to record a bunch of new material as a live album in a couple months. More on that as it comes.

4) I'm getting a heavy-duty poke in the brain to finish the musical I've been working on since 1995. Yes, 1995. It's a modern-day interpretation of my favorite play, Turgenev's A Month in the Country called A Week in the Suburbs. Pre-Chekhovian Russian angst meets suburban ennui. It's about half-finished. Then again, it's been about half-finished for about half a decade. What I need is a deadline. So, Grant, when are we producing it? ;-)

5) My back hurts.

6) Gearing up for Richard II. I'd give real money to learn what part I'm playing so I can get off-book. James Ricks is directing, which is really exciting. I enjoyed his work on Henry IV, Part 1 immensely.

7) Starting to work on As You Like It, which I'm directing next Spring. Getting very excited about it, actually. Five actors, lots of music. A bunch of people standing around in the woods talking.

8) The Richmond Shakespeare Training Department for 2007-2008 is looking very exciting indeed! David Sennett and Jennifer Massey will be teaching, and some other local talent with big names are in the hopper getting scheduled. I'm pretty jazzed. I really hope people come out. It's going to take a lot of word-of mouth spreading of the news, and it's really going to take some of the people who say they want to take a class actually doing it, unlike last year.

9) Staged readings? We're looking to assemble a Fall staged reading of Edward III, a play Shakespeare is now believed to have co-written. It deals with the grandfather of Richard II and is considered by an increasing number of scholars to be Shakespearean canon, bringing the total number of History plays to 11; 9 in the "Wars of the Roses" cycle. More on that as it develops.

10) I've been swayed to the Dark Side. That's right, I'm about 100 pages from finishing the fourth Harry Potter book. I totally get what all the fuss is about.

Happy now, Mudge?

Scoring "Henry IV, Part 1"

With Henry IV, Part 1 opening tomorrow (and with Dave T already having seen a preview for review), it's probably about time I wrote a few words about my (very small) part in the show.

First of all, I need to say that I absolutely love Shakespeare's history plays. In fact, the only play in Shakespeare's canon that I like better than 1 Henry IV is Richard II, and that's only by a hair. Watching these fantastic actors attack this piece has made me terribly hungry for this Fall's Richard II, which I'll be acting in.

Normally, there's no way anyone would do work on both shows of the Richmond Shakespeare Festival, what with the closing of show 1 and opening of show 2 only separated by three days. With all the songs in The Tempest, I knew that the best contribution I could make to the Festival was in my role as Master of Music for that show, and I'm very pleased with how that went. But it broke my heart to have to sit on the sidelines for Henry. I eventually realized that maybe I could be involved in the show if my contribution was fairly modest-sized and self-contained. It's a long way from the epic scope of the Midsummer Night's Dream soundtrack of 2005 (CDs still available, by the way) or the three-piece Tempest band, but I think the scoring for Henry adds something unique to the production.

For this show, I've opted to go with more of an Asian theatre musical aesthetic. Obvioiusly, the themes of fathers, sons, family honor, and war lead the mind a bit in the direction of Asian drama, but it was really the visual of having one big war drum (my djembe) as the main instrument that led me that way. I started thinking of how many different ways I can get sound out of that supremely versatile instrument.

The sound, again taking the example of music in Asian theatre, is very sparse, with every sound carefully chosen. The djembe is known for a big center boom and high pitched ping on the rim, so I've extended that duality to the two sides of the civil war. The boom in the center is the sound of the king, with high pitched rim rattles or the click of the claves representing the quickness of Hotspur. The show opens with a warlike rhythm which builds in complexity through the king's entrance. Audience members with excellent memories may recognize that the same rhythm returns during King Henry's closing lines, leading into Part 2 and the building Wars of the Roses. Whether that comes across to the audience is debatable, but it makes me happy.

So last Saturday, 96 degrees and humid, we spent the entire afternoon in the hot Agecroft sun running the show as I muted my drum with a cloth, played it with my hands, hit it with mallets, sticks, and claves, on top, on the sides, straight, on angles, and on and on. I brought a big suitcase full of percussion doodads and ended up keeping only a handful to use: the djembe, a cotton cloth, sticks, mallets, claves, a cabasa, goat toes, and a wicker shaker. It's more than I need; the cabasa may be going home tonight.

This cast, by the way, is flipping amazing. You have got to see these actors play together.

If only the bugs didn't like my music stand light so much.

Historical Quotes About Music in Worship

My brother Peter, whose new blog, P-Squared, just went live, sent me this url from Expository Files today. Reprinted here:



Historical Quotes About Music in Worship

The following is a series of quotes and their sources that I think that some readers will find enlightening, others will find them disturbing, and others interesting. I imagine all will find them a little ironic. I am not going to comment on them at all. They really speak for themselves.

Thomas Aquinas, Catholic Theologian; 13th century: "Our church does not use musical instruments, as harps and psalteries, to praise God withal, that she may not seem to Judaize." Bingham's Antiquities, Vol. 2, p.483, London

John Calvin, Reformation Leader, Founder of Reformed & Presbyterian denominations: "Musical Instruments in celebrating the praises of God would be no more suitable than the burning of incense, the lighting of lamps, and the restoration of the other shadows of the law." Calvin, Commentary on Psalm 33, see also commentary on 1 Samuel 18:1-9

John Wesley, Founder of Methodist Denomination: "I have no objection to instruments of music in our chapels, provided they are neither heard nor seen." Cited by Methodist commentator Adam Clarke; Clarke's Commentary, Vol. 4, p.684

Catholic Encyclopedia: "Although Josephus tells of the wonderful effects produced in the Temple by the use of instruments, the first Christians were of too spiritual a fibre to substitute lifeless instruments for or to use them to accompany the human voice. Clement of Alexandria severely condemns the use of instruments even at Christian banquets." Catholic Encyclopedia, Vol. 10, p. 652

Martin Luther, Reformation Leader: "The organ in the worship service is a sign of Baal." Realencyklopadie Fur Protestantische Theologie und Kirche, Bd, 14, s.433 cited in Instrumental Music and New Testament Worship, James D. Bales, p. 130.

Charles Spurgeon, Baptist Author/Pastor: "We might as well pray by machinery as sing by it" and "Israel was at school, and used childish things to help her learn; but in these days when Jesus gives us spiritual food, one can make melody without strings and pipes... we do not need them. That would hinder rather than help our praise. Sing unto Him. This is the sweetest and best music. No instrument like the human voice." Charles Spurgeon, Commentary on Psalm 42

FINAL QUOTE (this is really the MOST important one on the whole page): "Let the word of Christ richly dwell within you, with all wisdom teaching and admonishing one another with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through Him to God the Father." (Colossians 3:16,17).

By Jon W. Quinn
The Front Page
From Expository Files 4.2; February 1997



Thanks, guys. That's just great. Guess all that stuff in Psalms about the lyre, harp, drum, tamborine, etc. was just skipped over in your consideration.

Good thing all of these guys are dead, or I'd have to open a can.