"Crazy as a Loon" John Prine-Fair and Square

I think we are all a sucker for one-liners whether they be a joke, a quote from a movie or a song. With music they can be so powerful they stamp an image in one's mind that can never be changed. Some of my favorites:

-"Lying out there like a killer in the sun, and I know it's late but we can make it if we run"
-"All it takes one itchy trigger, one more widow, one less white nigger",
-"Waking in the morning, to the feeling of your fingers on my skin, wiping out the traces of the people and the places that I've been"
-"I'll miss those nights in the bar with the girls all loaded like freights, and the pain in the morning comes as easy as it goes"

There's a myriad of them I sing to myself throughout the day, probably the coolest I've heard in a long time is:

"Back before I was a movie star, straight off of the farm, I had a picture of another man's wife tattooed on my arm"

Today tattoos are accessories, like women with dogs, Louie bags and belt buckles. It's a shame because tattoos are nothing to be proud of, nothing to show off. I often think that if you have a tattoo you don't regret then it wasn't administered in the proper setting nor with the proper mindset. Let me make it clear, they are not body art, they are not something you show off like art. Art is for walls, canvases, sculpture, video and song. Tatts should be Sailor Jerry style or prison-esque, they should be a woman's name, a drunk night or something similar. It is the fact that they are not cool which makes them cool. The next time I see some hipster with a star tattoo or a sparrow (look up their meaning if you don't know) I'm gonna rip the fucking thing off their pale, hairless, skinny arm.

And with that tatt line I introduce John Prine just in case you never heard of him. You might know the song "Angel from Montgomery" which was covered by Bonnie Rait and my favorite, Elaine Petty down at the Florabama out on Perdido Key. John came to fame back in the early 70's with his first album entitled "John Prine" after which Kris Kristofferson said "He writes songs so good we'll have to break his thumbs". The music was a mix of country and folk and like so many before him he was declared the next Bob Dylan. Later Dylan was quoted (in pure Dylan mindfuck) as saying:

"Prine's stuff is pure Proustian existentialism. Midwestern mindtrips to the nth degree. And he writes beautiful songs. I remember when Kris Kristofferson first brought him on the scene. All that stuff about "Sam Stone," the soldier junkie daddy, and "Donald and Lydia," where people make love from ten miles away. Nobody but Prine could write like that."

"Crazy as a Loon" is somewhat of a departure from his usual writing, because it is some of his latest work there is much more experience and wisdom in his lyrics and melodies. It is a retrospective piece, not necessarily autobiographical, where the voice recalls his prior lives much like (albeit much cheesier) Buffett's "Last Mango in Paris" about Captain Tony and his saloon in Key West. The syllables don't match but the lyrics are almost haiku in their purity and simplicity.

"So I gathered up my savy, bought myself a business suit,
headed up to New York City where a man can make some loot,
I got hired Monday morning, downsized that afternoon,
Overcome with grief that evening, now I'm crazy as a loon."

After lives in LA, Nashville and Manhattan the narrator comes to the conclusion of moving up to Canada and living off the land with nature. It is every working stiffs dream, the ultimate middle finger to the straight world and a final goodbye to the bullshit, stress and craziness that we deal with everyday.

When I come home after a long day in the rat race, a bad night with the woman and nothing is flowing I might do an hour of yoga, maybe a glass of cab or a stiff scotch. In reality, nothing loosens up those knots in my neck more than settling up to the old wooden mistress for my own personal set list which always includes this gem from Illinois's finest. If you're ever in Gulfport, Florida, roam around the bars of St. Pete Beach where he does pop in sets at a local bar, you just might see the man in the flesh with ten of your new best friends.

"If I say I Love You" Loston Harris-Timeless

There's a lot of negatives that come with living in Manhattan, yesterday I went to the store to pick up a can of Pledge, six Calla Lilies and a two litre of Pepsi for 58 dollars. Every morning I wake up to traffic, jackhammers and horns, every night I rarely see a sunset; the weather is terrible, %75 of the year it's either too hot or too cold. But the positives outweigh all of that, fashion, culture, beautiful (although somewhat combative) women, museums and some of the best restaurants in the world. To tip the scale further in the positive direction is the fact that when I am finished writing this I can walk ten blocks north (which I will) and see Loston Harris live in a space more intimate than most of my neighbor's bathrooms.

In looking at my latest couple songs I feel a need to chill out a bit and throw in something a little more mellow, this is the song. This song is happy, jazzy, shallow and sans gravitas (can you mix languages like that? I don't think you can). Loston's voice is terribly chill and mellow, it is as if he's talking to the microphone. The song swings a bit, the piano is sublime but the real star on this track in my mind is the trumpet that fills in the gaps. At 1:14 into the solo starts off in full with Marcus Parsley and Loston trading off grove until the vocals slide back into the fold like a pair of velvet tux shoes.

You can find the album on Loston's website: http://www.lostonharris.com/music/. The price of $21 is a little steep for a CD but between this song and the sultry "Anytime, Anyday. Anywhere" is well worth the admission. Or think of it this way, to see him live there is a $25 cover and the martini (you can never have just one) will set you back another $20. Granted you don't get the atmosphere which is usually a mixture of UES skeletons, a few tourist who have no business there and the obligatory Russian Pro at the bar alone, but Loston is probably not leaving his venue anytime soon for a significant period so it'll just have to do until you head uptown for a sniff.

"Sniper" Harry Chapin-Sniper and Other Love Songs

On August 1, 1966 at 11:48 in the morning Charles Whitman took his first shot from The University of Texas at Austin Clocktower. Earlier in the morning he murdered his mother and wife leaving a note that read:

"I imagine it appears that I brutally killed both of my loved ones. I was only trying to do a quick thorough job...If my life insurance policy is valid please pay off my debts...donate the rest anonymously to a mental health foundation. Maybe research can prevent further tragedies of this type"

Charles would eventually murder 14 people and injure 32 more before his life was taken by Sheriffs. His entire life was marked by mental problems, addiction and abuse.

Usually when musicians and artists indulge in political dialogue and encompass it into their work it reeks of stupidity and hypocrisy. I love CSN but in their political ramblings I always think of a fat, gluttonous, heroin addicted David Crosby sailing on his restored wooden yacht through the waters of Mexico. The only person who is and never was inflicted by this disease was Harry Chapin, who was not only a brilliant songwriter but a humanitarian. Harry gave everything away, one third of his concert proceeds went to charities, and even though he married a New York socialite, upon his death they were close to penniless; his widow saying:

"Harry was supporting 17 relatives, 14 associations, seven foundations and 82 charities. Harry wasn't interested in saving money. He always said, 'Money is for people,' so he gave it away."

Harry didn't die choking on his own vomit or OD'ing on junk, booze or crank; he wasn't shot by a jaded lover nor falling out of a hotel window after ripping walls apart. He was crushed and burned to death in his 1975 Volkswagen Rabbit on the FDR by a tractor trailer at age 38.

The music he left behind is a testament to emotional songwriting "Cats in the Cradle" and "Taxi" possess a sensitivity and Epictetus-like stoicism. In "Sniper" those traits are evident but they are combined with a rage rarely seen before in his performances. In this ten minute long song comprised of no less than twelve different chord progressions Harry lets loose the rage and horror of a man who senselessly murdered people in cold blood. I have always thought of it as two songs combined into one, there is the chronological narrative about the events of the day mixed in between introspective thoughts of the Sniper and those who he has known throughout his life. The narrative voice builds in intensity during those ten minutes while the thoughts serve as a conduit for reigning the escalation back into control.

The song is blunt and straightforward in its ugliness, verses such as:

"The first words he spoke took the town by surprise.
One got Mrs. Gibbons above her right eye.
It blew her through the window wedged her against the door.
Reality poured from her face, staining the floor"

Convey a true sense of not only the horror of the day but through their simplicity give a lucid display of what exactly happens when one is shot. The bullet destroys everything in its path.

This song is not a top down drive into the sun tune, nor a gin swizzling sitting at the bar night of misery anthem. This song is Dostoevsky or Bolano, you have to give it the respect and attention it deserves; if you engage it the piece will reward you in ways you never thought music could. So throw it on, it will be ten minutes of contemplation you'll thank yourself for, when it's over, throw on "Taxi" again as an aperitif to a Thomas Keller-like music experience.