Other Than Life

Of all the things I never thought I’d gush about…

…”database programs” were definitely at the top of the list.  But you never know when love will hit you.  And it definitely hit me yesterday.

My beloved’s name?  Bento. And if you’re a singer, you’re going to love it too.

Let me back up.  I’ve always kept a database of my music, so I could know what I have.  Whenever the pile of Xeroxes on my desk got too high, I’d catalog each selection and file it in a neatly labeled folder, which I’d file alphabetically in one of my three (yes, I said three) file cabinets filled with music.

Over the past few years, as my life has become more mobile, I’ve started scanning the new music I bring in, so much of it is stored on my computer in yet another file.  My partner, who doesn’t think we should live in a house full of filing cabinets, has been lobbying for me to go 100% digital.  But I’ve been resistant.

A few weeks ago, when I upgraded my Mac to the latest operating system, the ancient (15-year-old) database program I’ve been using refused to make the transition. I printed out a hard copy of the database and proceeded to look for a new program.

Why is Bento “The One”?  Because in addition to storing the information about my music, it will also store my music.  I can digitally paper-clip any document to any record in my database - a pdf of the original source material, a Finale file of my arrangement, anything I’ve got in one of the cardboard file folders.  And now it’s all in one place.

If I figure out how to do a screen-capture of a Bento file, I’ll add one.  But I wanted you to know about this ASAP because it’s the solution of my dreams…and maybe yours, too.

She’s with the band

I’ve been a Tierney Sutton fan for awhile now, but this weekend I saw her perform live for the first time. And…wow.

From listening to her recordings, I already knew she had an innate musicality. And a fabulous band, guys she’s had the luxury of working with for nearly 20 years now. A few years ago, they celebrated their collaboration with a one of my favorite Sutton CDs, I’m With the Band.

Sutton doesn’t just sing a song, she lives inside the music. As a consequence, she doesn’t present herself like a typical singer: Instead of standing in front of her band, she sits in the midst of them - the piano and drums angled inward towards her, the bass player just behind. She is the fourth instrument in the quartet. Their sound is completely seamless, ego-free. It’s just music. 

And what glorious music it is!

She sang several pieces that will be featured on her forthcoming album American Road, including a haunting “Shenandoah” combined with “The Water is Wide.” But for me the highlight of the evening was her re-imagining of “The Eagle and Me” from Yip Harburg and Harold Arlen’s show Bloomer Girl. Sutton transformed this piece, which I’d always found a rather silly song, into a jazz classic. Fingers crossed that’s on the album, too.

Sutton recently posted a demo of a new project she’s working on, a collaboration with Mark Summer, the cellist of the Turtle Island String Quartet. Enjoy their take on Joni Mitchell’s “All I Want” - and go see Sutton and her band whenever and wherever you can.

Greetings from a foreign land

When it comes to the latest color in nail polish, I’m right on trend (at the moment: navy blue) but when it comes to pop music I have often lagged a bit.  So a couple of weeks ago, I decided to educate myself.

I turned some unexpected free time into an immersion course. You know the idea: You go by yourself to a foreign country where you’re forced to speak the new language 24/7 and eventually you become fluent.

Well I’m not quite a native pop speaker yet, but I did learn quite a lot from my five days on YouTube.

In no particular order:

1. CeeLo Green is a very funny man and a pretty good singer, too.
2. Sara Bareilles may be my favorite new singer: Intelligent lyrics, interesting melodies, a great sense of humor…and some fab merch. (Will someone please get me this for my birthday?)
3. Music videos can be distracting, either because they’re too beautiful (Look at that single tracking shot!) or because they’re too full of rubber-masked monkey dancers. Still, they’re a great way to sample an entire track vs. the 60 seconds iTunes gives you.
4. Today’s performers still appreciate older music, and can in some cases even improve on it. I never liked this song much before. Who knew Counting Crows would be the key?  And then there’s Adele channeling Dylan - though I’m still partial to the Tony DeSare/Tedd Firth version.
5. If you’re looking for songs with only three or four notes, you will find a wealth of material.
6. If you’re looking for songs with an actual melody line…you may have to spend five days on YouTube, but they’ll be there.

More reflections on the Big Man

I was delighted to read this reflection by Jon Pareles in today’s issue of The New York Times - it expresses the same kind of appreciation of Clarence Clemons that I was aiming for in yesterday’s post.

RIP “Big Man”

I don’t remember when or how I came to own Born to Run.  But I can still remember standing next to the stereo in the living room staring at the album cover as the vinyl spun for the first time.  Something about the cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on Springsteen’s face as he gazed at that big, black saxophone player he was leaning on, that image seemed the perfect embodiment of the music coming out of the speakers: bold, hip, self-confident. They were going somewhere - together.  And if we listened, they would take us too.

I suppose it’s possible to be a Springsteen fan without also being a Clarence Clemons fan. But from the time “the change was made uptown and the Big Man joined the band,” Bruce’s music took off in a new direction; it was no longer possible to dismiss him as a Dylan wannabe, as early critics often did. Clemons brought soul and power and a unique sound to Springsteen’s tracks.

When I saw the band in their last concert at Giants Stadium in 2009, Clemons had to be helped onto the stage - moving was clearly difficult for him. But when he picked up his sax, he was the same Big Man we’d always known and loved.  And if he used his final curtain call to shill his recently published memoir - holding it up in front of him as the cameras beamed his image across the stadium’s big screens - I just laughed it off. He’d given us such great music over the years, it seemed the least I could do to watch his silent commercial.

Rest in peace, Big Man.  Heaven’s rocking out tonight.

Simon (doesn’t) say

Reading a biography of Paul Simon. It was fairly well-reviewed, but I have to say I don’t feel like it’s giving me any sense of who he is. It’s more like I’m watching through a very thick, scratched-up window as Paul Simon walks past me down the street. 

I think Ray Charles spoiled me.  I mean with Ray I got to start with an autobiography.  Man, no scratchy window there: Reading Brother Ray was like watching the man walk past me in his skivvies…or less!  Seriously, a fascinating read - Ray’s co-writer David Ritz really did a great job of capturing Ray’s voice.  And then I read a very well-researched biography by Michael Lydon that filled in some of the blanks. Ray, for instance, claimed that his drugging never cost him jobs; the folks quoted in the bio beg to differ, and offer proof.

This Paul Simon book seems factual enough, but I don’t get the feeling the author has actually done any research, talked to anyone who knows Simon.  So if your goal is to get a rundown of the man’s career, it’ll do you fine.  But if your goal is to get a sense of who the man is and why he made the choices he made…well, so far I’m not finding that.

Okay, I was wrong

When last we met, I had just posted about my 1998 CD Just Around the Corner, which I discovered was a “rare” and “collectable” item.  Who knew?

Now, I haven’t thought about Just Around the Corner in years - at least not without cringing.  But an old friend of mine found the sales link on my website and decided to purchase the thing.  Which meant I had to sell it.  Well, first I had to find it - which I did, in a closet in my attic, in a cardboard carton that my girlfriend had mummified with packing tape.  If I hadn’t had to slit it open, that thing could have served as a time capsule well into the next century.

But before I sent it off to my unsuspecting friend, I decided to have a listen.  So I pulled a copy of the CD off my shelf and slid it into the computer and…

It wasn’t nearly as bad as I remembered.  Parts of it were quite listenable, and one or two tracks really held up.  In fact, there were only a couple of tracks that made me cringe. And that’s not a bad average, given that there are 15 tracks on the album.

Here, have a listen yourself.

“ULTRA RARE 1998 first press!”

Show me a musician who’s released her own CD and I’ll show you a musician with lots of storage space.

When I released my first CD (Just Around the Corner: Songs of love & longing from the 1930s) in 1998, I got a great deal: 500 CDs and 500 cassette tapes for the low, low price of whatever. I can’t tell you offhand how many CDs are still stuffed in my attic, but if you know anyone who wants 499 cassette tapes, I can get you a sweet deal.

Now, this problem is not unique to the music business - or to our era.  No less a literary light than Henry David Thoreau self-published his first treatise, A Week on the Concord & Merrimack Rivers. It did not sell like hotcakes, or whatever the 19th century equivalent of that was (perhaps “hotcakes”).  But old Henry David made the best of it.  When booksellers forced him to take back 706 unsold copies, he wrote to a friend, “I now have a library of nearly nine hundred volumes, over seven hundred of which I wrote myself.”

So imagine my amusement when I cruised on over to Amazon to check the current price of that first CD (a friend wanted to buy it from me; I was comparison-shopping for her) and found one dealer had it listed as a “collectible”: “ULTRA RARE 1998 first press!” for only $17.98 plus shipping. Two other delusional souls want over $50 to part with their used copies - one of which is “like new.” Meanwhile, I have an attic full of actually new CDs (and let’s not forget those cassettes) - a veritable goldmine under my eaves. What gives?

I think the issue is that the music sellers only care if a product is rare, not if it’s good. I, on the other hand, care deeply about the goodness of my product. So deeply that I’d rather store this music than sell it. I wasn’t ready to make a CD in 1998 (not that you could have told me that then), but I’ve gotten a lot better since. Seriously, check out the audio clips from Just Around the Corner (scroll way down and ponder why I’ve only released clips of two out of the 15 tracks) and then compare to the opening number of my most recent show.

Okay, I just listened to the clips and they didn’t make me cringe too badly. Maybe I should go into the business of selling “collectibles” after all.

Collaboration

There’s a lot in this review that made me smile.  “Superb work” - that’s not a bad thing to hear.  Neither is the closing description: “It’s outrageous and it’s great fun.”

But I think my very favorite thing about the review is that the writer, Roy Sander, recognized the collaboration taking place onstage.  “The arrangements and musical accompaniment make an invaluable contribution, and all elements seem at one with each other.”

I’ve been fortunate to work with Adam Armstrong, my wonderful bass player and friend, for about seven years now.  Musical director Ross Patterson is a new member of the team, and definitely a keeper.  (Ross was building on charts that were originally put together for me by Tedd Firth - he definitely deserves a mention here.)

I can’t wait to see the video we shot on Monday.  It really felt like after four performances we were really starting to gel as a unit. Too bad that was our last show for a while. But that’s the way it goes in Cabaret-land. More to come.