My wife and I read books to our kids at bedtime. For the sheer fun of it, I read anything with Winnie-the-Pooh or Nutbrown Hare with an English accent, trying to mimic the narrators of the popular series. I am not sure my kids are as tickled as I am when I do so, as evidenced one day when my three-year-old asked me not to read the book that way.
America is obsessed with England. Look at the past few months. A new royal baby. Simon Cowell’s scandal. John Oliver’s successful run as host of the Daily Show. But why is it that when Brits sing, their English accents conspicuously disappear? That is not the case with Provincetown darling Zoe Lewis.
The singer-songwriter’s seventh album was in 2011. I have been awaiting an eighth, but it turns out I am going to have to wait awhile. Lewis just wrote a musical! Titled Across the Pond, it is about “an assortment of quirky transatlantic passengers [who] contemplate the definition of home high in the clouds somewhere in-between Heathrow and JFK!” After a sell-out run in June, it is being brought back to Provincetown Theater in mid-October.
I first reached out to Lewis after her release of Small is Tremendous in 2004, when I had just taken over as editor of Cape Cod Magazine. When I emailed her to request a comp copy, she was through the roof that we were giving her the publicity. When I got the album, I immediately fell for her. There were so many memorable songs, as she mixed pop, jazz, and even some Latin and Middle Eastern sounds effortlessly. The songs are fun, and some are something you’d rock out to with your young children, but they all have subtle and not-so-subtle subtexts. This one is just plain fun! (But the premise…not for children)
Hear the song on Youtube.
Showing posts with label cape cod magazine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cape cod magazine. Show all posts
Friday, August 23, 2013
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Kami Lyle "Ice In Her Glass"
I played trumpet all throughout high school and college
(hey, if you’re going to be a band geek, drums or trumpet is the way to go;
they get all the ladies). So when I found out that local musician Kami Lyle
also played horn, in addition to writing songs, recording albums, and fronting
a trio that plays a lot locally, my interest was definitely piqued. I have been
trying to see her live for years, but have never gotten the chance. I was on
the verge of going to a show at the Cotuit Center for the Arts this winter, but
a blizzard roared into town, and it was cancelled.
If you ask me what kind of artist she is, I really could not
tell you. From what I can gather, she gained a little fame for a song called
“Polka Dots” in the ‘90s. Kinda Cyndi Lauper-esque, which is probably a bit of
a stereotype because she comes off as a cute, ditzy blonde with a squeaky
voice. But it seems she has some Nashville and songwriting cred too, and has
even played trumpet on a number of prominent artists’ recordings. She does a good Bob Dylan.
Lately, she’s letting her jazz side be seen more and more. Whatever she is,
we’re glad she’s here.
After a summer hiatus, The Cotuit Center for the Arts brings
back Lyle to host her Sit-A-While singer- songwriter concert series on
Thursday, September 19th, with Jon Pousette-Dart and Gretchen Peters.
Tickets are $25 general admission, $22 for seniors and $20 for members. Pray
that we don’t get snow!
For a sample of her latest songwriting contest 2ndplace winner and more evidence that she is indeed a ditzy blonde (sorry Kami,
but c’mon) click on this:
Hear the song on Youtube.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Patty Larkin "I'm Fine"
I'm back to work this week, but taking a vacation from the blog. Scott Lajoie fills in . . .
Two years ago this time of year, a photographer for the magazine and a dear friend of mine passed away unexpectedly. It’s a memorial site on Facebook where a lot of us post messages and remembrances of our friend Jay throughout the year, but when mid-August hits, there is a flurry of activity. I have noticed that a lot of people post music clips. A friend posted Lucinda Williams’ “Sweet Old World;” another woman posted Patti Smith’s “Paths That Cross.” I posted Joss Stone’s “Take Care.” They weren’t songs my friend necessarily liked; he was more of a PJ Harvey and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds fan. It is music that we associate with him and his passing; for me, it is what I happened to be listening to when I heard of his death. It is as if music is the preferred method through which some of us process loss.
Renowned Wellfleet singer-songwriter Patty Larkin is releasing a new album called “Still Green” next month. She retreated to a Truro dune shack to write songs for this latest endeavor, saying that she needed to get back to nature and a solitude that only such a shack provides. (Remember this woman lives in Wellfleet with her partner and two children; one might assume an Outer Cape off-season would be quiet enough.) She says this album was written in part to deal with the recent loss of her parents.
We received an advance copy as we were preparing to write a profile on her for the October issue. It’s not a dark album in the least. The songs don’t dwell on death. But it is evident from her lyrics and the care she put into crafting each song that she is very thoughtful of the most important aspects of her life that she was afraid were being overshadowed.
Barbara Dacey did an interview with Patty Larkin, where several songs from the yet-to-be-released "Still Green" are previewed, here.
Hear "I'm Fine" on Youtube.
Two years ago this time of year, a photographer for the magazine and a dear friend of mine passed away unexpectedly. It’s a memorial site on Facebook where a lot of us post messages and remembrances of our friend Jay throughout the year, but when mid-August hits, there is a flurry of activity. I have noticed that a lot of people post music clips. A friend posted Lucinda Williams’ “Sweet Old World;” another woman posted Patti Smith’s “Paths That Cross.” I posted Joss Stone’s “Take Care.” They weren’t songs my friend necessarily liked; he was more of a PJ Harvey and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds fan. It is music that we associate with him and his passing; for me, it is what I happened to be listening to when I heard of his death. It is as if music is the preferred method through which some of us process loss.
Renowned Wellfleet singer-songwriter Patty Larkin is releasing a new album called “Still Green” next month. She retreated to a Truro dune shack to write songs for this latest endeavor, saying that she needed to get back to nature and a solitude that only such a shack provides. (Remember this woman lives in Wellfleet with her partner and two children; one might assume an Outer Cape off-season would be quiet enough.) She says this album was written in part to deal with the recent loss of her parents.
We received an advance copy as we were preparing to write a profile on her for the October issue. It’s not a dark album in the least. The songs don’t dwell on death. But it is evident from her lyrics and the care she put into crafting each song that she is very thoughtful of the most important aspects of her life that she was afraid were being overshadowed.
Barbara Dacey did an interview with Patty Larkin, where several songs from the yet-to-be-released "Still Green" are previewed, here.
Hear "I'm Fine" on Youtube.
Monday, August 19, 2013
The Parkington Sisters "Our By The Day"
I'm back to work this week, but taking a vacation from the blog. Scott Lajoie fills in . . .
As editor of Cape Cod Magazine, I am privy to some great local music here on the stopover point to Martha’s Vineyard. This week, I will be focusing on some of our area’s best women performers.
A few years ago, I stumbled upon Wellfleet’s Parkington Sisters. The five had been performing along Main Street Hyannis. They seemed talented enough, with a sisterly knack for great harmonies. But it wasn’t until PJ and I traveled to the Narrows in Fall River to hear the Parkington Sisters open for David Wax Museum that my curiosity was really piqued. I got copies of their two most recent albums and listened to them non-stop for almost a month. Their music is truly original. After all, who can sing like the world’s best church choir one moment, and rock out with the Dropkick Murphys the next? I was particularly astounded by how moving such simple melodies could be, even if they are hardly radio friendly.
Hear "Ours By The Day" on Youtube.
We featured them in the magazine the following March (although with the youngest sister intent on finishing college, they were down to four). We did a little fashion spread with them (they are all pretty photogenic to say the least) and gave them little Faustian questionnaires to fill out. Turns out they are quite funny and interesting, too.
I could go on and on about how they combine so many different influences into their own sound, but it is just as well you just listen yourself. I, for one, am anticipating their next album.
Hear "Inside My Head" on Youtube.
As editor of Cape Cod Magazine, I am privy to some great local music here on the stopover point to Martha’s Vineyard. This week, I will be focusing on some of our area’s best women performers.
A few years ago, I stumbled upon Wellfleet’s Parkington Sisters. The five had been performing along Main Street Hyannis. They seemed talented enough, with a sisterly knack for great harmonies. But it wasn’t until PJ and I traveled to the Narrows in Fall River to hear the Parkington Sisters open for David Wax Museum that my curiosity was really piqued. I got copies of their two most recent albums and listened to them non-stop for almost a month. Their music is truly original. After all, who can sing like the world’s best church choir one moment, and rock out with the Dropkick Murphys the next? I was particularly astounded by how moving such simple melodies could be, even if they are hardly radio friendly.
Hear "Ours By The Day" on Youtube.
I could go on and on about how they combine so many different influences into their own sound, but it is just as well you just listen yourself. I, for one, am anticipating their next album.
Hear "Inside My Head" on Youtube.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Ben Folds Five "Cigarette"
The lyrics to this song are (semi-)famously lifted from an amazing run-on sentence that Ben Folds had read in the newspaper, about a man and his mentally ill wife.
There’s poetry in every day life that we don’t always see or hear or turn into song.
“Cigarette” is also famous for retroactively being known as “Fred Jones Pt. 1.” Years after “Cigarette” came out, Ben Folds wrote a song called “Fred Jones Pt. 2” which features the same character found in Pt. 1. In Pt 2, Fred Jones loses his job as a newspaper man. The world has passed him by.
This week I thought I’d write about some of the artisans in my life, and promote the good work that they do.
I have to admit that even I was quick to make a list that involved graphic design, stone carving and other handmade crafts, but not something kind of obvious (for a guy who blogs every day).
Writing was not a type of “art” that instantly came to top of mind.
Why don’t we appreciate writing the way we used to?
As Ben Folds makes clear, there is poetry, there is value, in the every day written word.
Scott Lajoie knows this for sure.
Scott is the editor of Cape Cod Magazine. He finds the poetry and beauty of every day life here on Cape Cod, and encapsulates it between the covers of his publication. There is artistry in what he does, in what the magazine is, even if you don’t recognize it.
Yes, Scott’s art is more likely to be strewn on your bathroom floor, than displayed on your wall.
The written word is taken for granted. But let me be not the first person to forewarn you---print publications become rarer by the day. And if you value newspapers and magazines and such, they demand your support.
My motivation to write these pieces on artist friends was sparked by Scott’s dedication to promoting Cape Cod and the people who make it beautiful. Cape Cod Magazine has written pieces on Meadow Dibble, Tim Dibble, Erica Szuplat and mvyradio, to name just a few. The promotion has meant sales and attention for each. That kind of support is what can keep an artist alive and thriving.
If Scott and his magazine are not there for us, who will be? And if we are not there for Scott, how can he be there for us?
So as you are thinking about small businesses you can support this holiday season, consider giving someone (or yourself) a subscription to Cape Cod Magazine. You can get a year's subscription for only 15 bucks!
Because we don’t want to hear Ben Folds sing, “And I’m sorry, Mr. Lajoie, it’s time . . .”
Hear "Cigarette" on Youtube.
Hear "Fred Jones Pt. 2" on Youtube.
There’s poetry in every day life that we don’t always see or hear or turn into song.
“Cigarette” is also famous for retroactively being known as “Fred Jones Pt. 1.” Years after “Cigarette” came out, Ben Folds wrote a song called “Fred Jones Pt. 2” which features the same character found in Pt. 1. In Pt 2, Fred Jones loses his job as a newspaper man. The world has passed him by.
This week I thought I’d write about some of the artisans in my life, and promote the good work that they do.
I have to admit that even I was quick to make a list that involved graphic design, stone carving and other handmade crafts, but not something kind of obvious (for a guy who blogs every day).
Writing was not a type of “art” that instantly came to top of mind.
Why don’t we appreciate writing the way we used to?
As Ben Folds makes clear, there is poetry, there is value, in the every day written word.
Scott Lajoie knows this for sure.
Scott is the editor of Cape Cod Magazine. He finds the poetry and beauty of every day life here on Cape Cod, and encapsulates it between the covers of his publication. There is artistry in what he does, in what the magazine is, even if you don’t recognize it.
Yes, Scott’s art is more likely to be strewn on your bathroom floor, than displayed on your wall.
The written word is taken for granted. But let me be not the first person to forewarn you---print publications become rarer by the day. And if you value newspapers and magazines and such, they demand your support.
My motivation to write these pieces on artist friends was sparked by Scott’s dedication to promoting Cape Cod and the people who make it beautiful. Cape Cod Magazine has written pieces on Meadow Dibble, Tim Dibble, Erica Szuplat and mvyradio, to name just a few. The promotion has meant sales and attention for each. That kind of support is what can keep an artist alive and thriving.
If Scott and his magazine are not there for us, who will be? And if we are not there for Scott, how can he be there for us?
So as you are thinking about small businesses you can support this holiday season, consider giving someone (or yourself) a subscription to Cape Cod Magazine. You can get a year's subscription for only 15 bucks!
Because we don’t want to hear Ben Folds sing, “And I’m sorry, Mr. Lajoie, it’s time . . .”
Hear "Cigarette" on Youtube.
Hear "Fred Jones Pt. 2" on Youtube.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Toad The Wet Sprocket "Walk On The Ocean"
This week's posts are written by Scott Lajoie, editor of Cape Cod Magazine. In creating a publication that reflects the look and feel of the region, Scott is particularly attuned to the stories, sights and general nostalgia of summer. So I asked him to write about some of the songs that have touched him personally over the years, particularly the ones that connect to iconic memories or feelings of Cape Cod.
In our current issue of Cape Cod Magazine, we asked 21 notable people for their five favorite memories through the five senses. Kevin Youkilis, John Kerry, Tim Daley, NPR’s Michele Norris and the Bachelorette’s Chris Lambton were some of many who made some thoughtful and creative contributions to our challenge. I was amazed at how many people said their favorite site was that of the Sagamore or Bourne Bridge, the two iconic symbols of arriving at Cape Cod. To them, it must signify the beginning of a great time, far away from one’s troubles and stresses of everyday life. It makes me think of that feeling you get when you first catch a glimpse of something that you know is going to be remarkable.
I was never a Toad the Wet Sprocket fan when they were at their peak in the early Nineties, but I always thought they had a unique sound. When I finally burned a bunch of their songs years ago, I started to appreciate them more. Great acoustic guitars rhythms. A lead singer with a distinctly melodic voice. Lyrics you could have some fun analyzing. That opening verse of their hit “Walk on the Water,” makes me think of that anticipation:
They barrel into the chorus, with an accordion accompaniment that even sounds okay to someone (me) who doesn’t particularly care for the accordion in contemporary rock music. But then it all starts to fall apart for the subject of the song. The weekend/vacation/summer is over, and you must return your ho-hum life in some polluted city somewhere. The final verse of the song sums it up quite succinctly:
It slows to a stop and the song, like the escape, is over. We permanent residents on the Cape and Islands don’t get this feeling anymore. But we relate to your pain. And we gather on Route 6 on Labor Day afternoon to wave good-bye. If you come back, great. We’d love to have you. But even if you don’t return, you’ll have those memories “that grow sweeter each season.”
See the music video on Youtube.
Hear the full song, but not music video.
In our current issue of Cape Cod Magazine, we asked 21 notable people for their five favorite memories through the five senses. Kevin Youkilis, John Kerry, Tim Daley, NPR’s Michele Norris and the Bachelorette’s Chris Lambton were some of many who made some thoughtful and creative contributions to our challenge. I was amazed at how many people said their favorite site was that of the Sagamore or Bourne Bridge, the two iconic symbols of arriving at Cape Cod. To them, it must signify the beginning of a great time, far away from one’s troubles and stresses of everyday life. It makes me think of that feeling you get when you first catch a glimpse of something that you know is going to be remarkable.
I was never a Toad the Wet Sprocket fan when they were at their peak in the early Nineties, but I always thought they had a unique sound. When I finally burned a bunch of their songs years ago, I started to appreciate them more. Great acoustic guitars rhythms. A lead singer with a distinctly melodic voice. Lyrics you could have some fun analyzing. That opening verse of their hit “Walk on the Water,” makes me think of that anticipation:
We spotted the ocean
At the head of the trail
Where are we going?
So far away.
And somebody told me
That this is the place
Where everything’s better
Everything’s safe.
They barrel into the chorus, with an accordion accompaniment that even sounds okay to someone (me) who doesn’t particularly care for the accordion in contemporary rock music. But then it all starts to fall apart for the subject of the song. The weekend/vacation/summer is over, and you must return your ho-hum life in some polluted city somewhere. The final verse of the song sums it up quite succinctly:
Now we're back at the homestead
Where the air makes you choke
And people don't know you
And trust is a joke.
We don't even have pictures
Just memories to hold
That grow sweeter each season
As we slowly grow old
It slows to a stop and the song, like the escape, is over. We permanent residents on the Cape and Islands don’t get this feeling anymore. But we relate to your pain. And we gather on Route 6 on Labor Day afternoon to wave good-bye. If you come back, great. We’d love to have you. But even if you don’t return, you’ll have those memories “that grow sweeter each season.”
See the music video on Youtube.
Hear the full song, but not music video.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Don Henley "Sunset Grill"
This week's posts are written by Scott Lajoie, editor of Cape Cod Magazine. In creating a publication that reflects the look and feel of the region, Scott is particularly attuned to the stories, sights and general nostalgia of summer. So I asked him to write about some of the songs that have touched him personally over the years, particularly the ones that connect to iconic memories or feelings of Cape Cod.
1984. It was an interesting year for a variety of reasons. It was also the year The Eagles’ drummer/sometimes lead singer Don Henley released his second solo album, Building the Perfect Beast.
It was a huge hit. Featured heavy hitting collaborators—Fleetwood Mac’s Lindsey Buckingham, Heartbreaker Mike Campbell, Go-Go Belinda Carlisle, and Patty Smyth. Chock full of radio singles, too. You might think I am going to talk about “Boys of Summer,” right? That quintessential end-of-summer ditty paying homage to the summer fling that gave Henley a Grammy the following year.
Actually, no. “Boys of Summer” is a great song, don’t get me wrong. But it has gotten a little too much airplay over the years, and it is flat-out too straightforward lyrically. We get it: Summer’s over and you’re still thinking about that girl, “her brown skin shining in the sun” with her “Wayfarers on, baby.”
The song that has stuck with me over the decades is “Sunset Grill.” Supposedly it is about a hamburger place on Sunset Boulevard, but really anyone can claim that it is about their favorite place to hang out. And since that “Boys of Summer” song is so prevalent on that album, well most of us could probably assume that the subject of this song is our favorite place to frequent while on vacation.
Summer hangouts. Cape Cod is full of ‘em. And we all have our favorites. Since I live on the Upper Cape, I think of the Chart Room in Cataumet or the Raw Bar in Popponesset Village. But for others, it could easily be Baxter’s in Hyannis, Brax Landing in Harwich, Sundancer’s in Dennis, or the Beachcomber in Wellfleet.
Henley’s melody about this mythical watering hole is dreamy one moment and angry the next. Kudos to a young Randy Newman who orchestrated the synthesizer symphony. As they come off that solo, they begin a steady rise with the last verse: “Maybe we’ll leave come springtime/Meanwhile, I’ll have another beer/What’ll we do without these jerks anyway/Besides, all our friends are here.” It’s a statement of loyalty to place, made ten times stronger than any phrase from Toby Keith’s “I Love This Bar.” While other songs about hangouts may be more popular—Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” comes to mind—nothing quite accomplishes that feeling when you sit on an easy chair with a beer, “stare out at the auburn sky,” and know that you would never leave if you didn’t have to.
Hear the song at Grooveshark:
1984. It was an interesting year for a variety of reasons. It was also the year The Eagles’ drummer/sometimes lead singer Don Henley released his second solo album, Building the Perfect Beast.
It was a huge hit. Featured heavy hitting collaborators—Fleetwood Mac’s Lindsey Buckingham, Heartbreaker Mike Campbell, Go-Go Belinda Carlisle, and Patty Smyth. Chock full of radio singles, too. You might think I am going to talk about “Boys of Summer,” right? That quintessential end-of-summer ditty paying homage to the summer fling that gave Henley a Grammy the following year.
Actually, no. “Boys of Summer” is a great song, don’t get me wrong. But it has gotten a little too much airplay over the years, and it is flat-out too straightforward lyrically. We get it: Summer’s over and you’re still thinking about that girl, “her brown skin shining in the sun” with her “Wayfarers on, baby.”
The song that has stuck with me over the decades is “Sunset Grill.” Supposedly it is about a hamburger place on Sunset Boulevard, but really anyone can claim that it is about their favorite place to hang out. And since that “Boys of Summer” song is so prevalent on that album, well most of us could probably assume that the subject of this song is our favorite place to frequent while on vacation.
Summer hangouts. Cape Cod is full of ‘em. And we all have our favorites. Since I live on the Upper Cape, I think of the Chart Room in Cataumet or the Raw Bar in Popponesset Village. But for others, it could easily be Baxter’s in Hyannis, Brax Landing in Harwich, Sundancer’s in Dennis, or the Beachcomber in Wellfleet.
Henley’s melody about this mythical watering hole is dreamy one moment and angry the next. Kudos to a young Randy Newman who orchestrated the synthesizer symphony. As they come off that solo, they begin a steady rise with the last verse: “Maybe we’ll leave come springtime/Meanwhile, I’ll have another beer/What’ll we do without these jerks anyway/Besides, all our friends are here.” It’s a statement of loyalty to place, made ten times stronger than any phrase from Toby Keith’s “I Love This Bar.” While other songs about hangouts may be more popular—Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” comes to mind—nothing quite accomplishes that feeling when you sit on an easy chair with a beer, “stare out at the auburn sky,” and know that you would never leave if you didn’t have to.
Hear the song at Grooveshark:
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Crosby Still And Nash "Southern Cross"
This week's posts are written by Scott Lajoie, editor of Cape Cod Magazine. In creating a publication that reflects the look and feel of the region, Scott is particularly attuned to the stories, sights and general nostalgia of summer. So I asked him to write about some of the songs that have touched him personally over the years, particularly the ones that connect to iconic memories or feelings of Cape Cod.
Being that we are on a peninsula that juts into the Atlantic Ocean, one can imagine how strong the sailing community is on Cape Cod. Whether you are a regatta racer, or just like to cruise around the bay, Cape Cod is a sailor’s playground. Nothing reminds me of this lifestyle more than Crosby, Stills and Nash’s “Southern Cross.”
The premise is great: Man loses woman. Man hops on a sailboat for a long-distance journey in which he can gather his thoughts. Man finally realizes what went wrong in the relationship. Granted, every time I listen to it, I wonder about some other bit of symbolism in the song. The accompanying music is pretty simple; every novice guitarist learns the chords to impress some “woman/girl” at a campfire. But it nonetheless is one of the most classic riffs of all time.
I always liked the song. But it meant a lot more to me when I actually got to see the Southern Cross while sailing across the Pacific Ocean. Our course was further south, departing Buenos Aries and arriving 35 days later in Wellington, New Zealand (we never came close to the Marquesas). I was a journalist on board a racing yacht in the British Telecom Global Challenge of 2000. There were 18 of us on board, and we raced the boat day and night for over a month. No, we never stopped in Avalon to make calls back home to the family; we were racing. We won that leg in a very exciting finish that came down to less than an hour between us and the second-place boat.
Since I am not a life-long sailor (I had to train for this race), many of those lines made sense a bit more after the Challenge. I not only understood what “sailing a reach” was, we had done it. We did a few “downhill runs.” Sometimes, when you were on a “midnight watch,” you’d find yourself contemplating life, out in the middle of the darkness with thousands of miles of ocean all around you, where at one point, you are closer to space than you are to any continental land. Does such an odyssey provide some answers? It did to Stephen Stills. “When you see the Southern Cross for the first time/You understand now why you came this way/'Cause the truth you might be runnin' from is so small/But it's as big as the promise—the promise of a comin' day.”
By the way, if you are wondering why “Wooden Ships,” another song by Crosby, Stills and Nash, doesn’t make me reminisce about sailing, it is because is not about sailing or boating at all. It is about a nuclear holocaust. And the survivors happen to have fled on “wooden ships.” Not a happy song in the least.
See the video on Youtube.
Being that we are on a peninsula that juts into the Atlantic Ocean, one can imagine how strong the sailing community is on Cape Cod. Whether you are a regatta racer, or just like to cruise around the bay, Cape Cod is a sailor’s playground. Nothing reminds me of this lifestyle more than Crosby, Stills and Nash’s “Southern Cross.”
The premise is great: Man loses woman. Man hops on a sailboat for a long-distance journey in which he can gather his thoughts. Man finally realizes what went wrong in the relationship. Granted, every time I listen to it, I wonder about some other bit of symbolism in the song. The accompanying music is pretty simple; every novice guitarist learns the chords to impress some “woman/girl” at a campfire. But it nonetheless is one of the most classic riffs of all time.
I always liked the song. But it meant a lot more to me when I actually got to see the Southern Cross while sailing across the Pacific Ocean. Our course was further south, departing Buenos Aries and arriving 35 days later in Wellington, New Zealand (we never came close to the Marquesas). I was a journalist on board a racing yacht in the British Telecom Global Challenge of 2000. There were 18 of us on board, and we raced the boat day and night for over a month. No, we never stopped in Avalon to make calls back home to the family; we were racing. We won that leg in a very exciting finish that came down to less than an hour between us and the second-place boat.
Since I am not a life-long sailor (I had to train for this race), many of those lines made sense a bit more after the Challenge. I not only understood what “sailing a reach” was, we had done it. We did a few “downhill runs.” Sometimes, when you were on a “midnight watch,” you’d find yourself contemplating life, out in the middle of the darkness with thousands of miles of ocean all around you, where at one point, you are closer to space than you are to any continental land. Does such an odyssey provide some answers? It did to Stephen Stills. “When you see the Southern Cross for the first time/You understand now why you came this way/'Cause the truth you might be runnin' from is so small/But it's as big as the promise—the promise of a comin' day.”
By the way, if you are wondering why “Wooden Ships,” another song by Crosby, Stills and Nash, doesn’t make me reminisce about sailing, it is because is not about sailing or boating at all. It is about a nuclear holocaust. And the survivors happen to have fled on “wooden ships.” Not a happy song in the least.
See the video on Youtube.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Colin Hay “Beautiful World”
This week's posts are written by Scott Lajoie, editor of Cape Cod Magazine. In creating a publication that reflects the look and feel of the region, Scott is particularly attuned to the stories, sights and general nostalgia of summer. So I asked him to write about some of the songs that have touched him personally over the years, particularly the ones that connect to iconic memories or feelings of Cape Cod.
Many people speak about the restorative powers of the ocean. Swimming in a vast body of water connects us all in some primordial way. The feeling is at times spiritual. I recall Jill Nelson’s recent book, in which she talks about that first plunge of the season into the icy waters off Oak Bluffs on Martha’s Vineyard with her fellow Polar Bears:
Who, once fear is overcome, is not seduced by buoyancy, the weightlessness of floating, the gravity-defying, almost out-of-body experience of being in water? I have swum here for almost fifty summers and yet each time is like the first time: the shock of the cold water, the forced immersion, the seduction and surety of buoyancy, however heavy my body, mind, or spirit might feel on dry land. I cannot recall a time when the water did not make me smile, feel better.
The song that makes me think of this phenomenon is a recent one, by a guy named Colin Hay. Perhaps you remember him as lead singer of the Australian ‘80s group Men At Work, with hits such as “Who Can It Be Now,” and “Overkill.” He’s apparently carved out a little niche for himself, playing all acoustic songs that have the same melodic pop sound that Men At Work offered, but with a slightly more mature tone.
I stumbled upon him accidentally. I am a big fan of actor extraordinaire Zach Braff. In his underappreciated and now defunct sitcom Scrubs and his acclaimed movie Garden State, they featured Hay’s “Waiting for My Real Life to Begin” and “I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You” respectively. (Hay even had a cameo on one Scrubs episode where he is a cadaver come to life singing an acoustic version of “Overkill.”)
His album, Going Somewhere, leads off with a song “Beautiful World,” which opens like this:
Later in the song he sings “All around is anger/Automatic guns/There’s death in large numbers/No respect for women or our little ones.” Some of us perceive the water to protect us from the realities of this often cruel world. Who hasn’t dunked under to hear nothing at all, alone under the surface, letting our troubles wash away?
Every time I hear that distinct voice sing the lyrics of that song, I think of people bobbing in the surf, enjoying the salt water, where they can still be free.
See the video on Youtube.
Many people speak about the restorative powers of the ocean. Swimming in a vast body of water connects us all in some primordial way. The feeling is at times spiritual. I recall Jill Nelson’s recent book, in which she talks about that first plunge of the season into the icy waters off Oak Bluffs on Martha’s Vineyard with her fellow Polar Bears:
Who, once fear is overcome, is not seduced by buoyancy, the weightlessness of floating, the gravity-defying, almost out-of-body experience of being in water? I have swum here for almost fifty summers and yet each time is like the first time: the shock of the cold water, the forced immersion, the seduction and surety of buoyancy, however heavy my body, mind, or spirit might feel on dry land. I cannot recall a time when the water did not make me smile, feel better.
The song that makes me think of this phenomenon is a recent one, by a guy named Colin Hay. Perhaps you remember him as lead singer of the Australian ‘80s group Men At Work, with hits such as “Who Can It Be Now,” and “Overkill.” He’s apparently carved out a little niche for himself, playing all acoustic songs that have the same melodic pop sound that Men At Work offered, but with a slightly more mature tone.
I stumbled upon him accidentally. I am a big fan of actor extraordinaire Zach Braff. In his underappreciated and now defunct sitcom Scrubs and his acclaimed movie Garden State, they featured Hay’s “Waiting for My Real Life to Begin” and “I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You” respectively. (Hay even had a cameo on one Scrubs episode where he is a cadaver come to life singing an acoustic version of “Overkill.”)
His album, Going Somewhere, leads off with a song “Beautiful World,” which opens like this:
My, my, my, it’s a beautiful world
I like swimming in the sea
I like to go out beyond the white breakers
Where a man can still be free, or a woman if you are one
I like swimming in the sea
Later in the song he sings “All around is anger/Automatic guns/There’s death in large numbers/No respect for women or our little ones.” Some of us perceive the water to protect us from the realities of this often cruel world. Who hasn’t dunked under to hear nothing at all, alone under the surface, letting our troubles wash away?
Every time I hear that distinct voice sing the lyrics of that song, I think of people bobbing in the surf, enjoying the salt water, where they can still be free.
See the video on Youtube.
Monday, August 15, 2011
The Samples "Feel Us Shaking"
This week's posts are written by Scott Lajoie, editor of Cape Cod Magazine. In creating a publication that reflects the look and feel of the region, Scott is particularly attuned to the stories, sights and general nostalgia of summer. So I asked him to write about some of the songs that have touched him personally over the years, particularly the ones that connect to iconic memories or feelings of Cape Cod.
I was in college in the early nineties. While so-called grunge and a particular type of alternative rock were hitting their nadir, my friends and I were also listening to group from Colorado that mixed my love of the Police (reggae meets punk meets heavenly melodies) with jam-band sensibilities. The Samples were all over the university scene in upstate New York at that time, and we all thought they were extremely talented-—particularly lead singer/guitarist Sean Kelly and percussionist Jeep MacNichol.
My favorite was called “Feel Us Shaking.” There were a few versions kicking around. The studio version was on their first album, but I was particularly fond of the remix on what was probably their bestselling album, “No Room.” It included some really cheesy seagull sounds to open up the recording. But to a guy who grew up vacationing on Cape Cod, I kinda liked it.
For a band that took pride in thoughtful reflection and environmental concern, the lyrics to “Feel Us Shaking” were pretty basic. “Gentle thoughts meander through the sand/As a ship made currents reach the land/An omniscient sun paving through the sky/When it’s done all the sea birds fly.” They even had a line about “out where the dolphins play.” (At least they didn’t make The Samples cry, right?!).
In a era when your other favorite bands were singing “Hello, hello, hello, how low” sung over oppressively depressive minor power chords, you embraced the casual sound of Kelly’s acoustic guitar and Al Laughlin’s bouncy islands-inspired keyboard riffs. The totality of lyrics were irrelevant. You could just imagine yourself sitting on the beach, around a campfire, under the stars, your thoughts “meandering through the sand.”
I recently looked up the video to this song. They played a lot of home videos during their concerts and sure enough, this video was a montage of beach scenes, shore birds, and breaching whales. Because they were from Colorado, I had assumed it was from the West Coast somewhere. About three-quarters through the video, I recognized a familiar lighthouse: Brant Point, which is located on the Cape’s “other” island, Nantucket. The band’s tune in a way cut closer to home than I had ever imagined.
See the video on Youtube.
I was in college in the early nineties. While so-called grunge and a particular type of alternative rock were hitting their nadir, my friends and I were also listening to group from Colorado that mixed my love of the Police (reggae meets punk meets heavenly melodies) with jam-band sensibilities. The Samples were all over the university scene in upstate New York at that time, and we all thought they were extremely talented-—particularly lead singer/guitarist Sean Kelly and percussionist Jeep MacNichol.
My favorite was called “Feel Us Shaking.” There were a few versions kicking around. The studio version was on their first album, but I was particularly fond of the remix on what was probably their bestselling album, “No Room.” It included some really cheesy seagull sounds to open up the recording. But to a guy who grew up vacationing on Cape Cod, I kinda liked it.
For a band that took pride in thoughtful reflection and environmental concern, the lyrics to “Feel Us Shaking” were pretty basic. “Gentle thoughts meander through the sand/As a ship made currents reach the land/An omniscient sun paving through the sky/When it’s done all the sea birds fly.” They even had a line about “out where the dolphins play.” (At least they didn’t make The Samples cry, right?!).
In a era when your other favorite bands were singing “Hello, hello, hello, how low” sung over oppressively depressive minor power chords, you embraced the casual sound of Kelly’s acoustic guitar and Al Laughlin’s bouncy islands-inspired keyboard riffs. The totality of lyrics were irrelevant. You could just imagine yourself sitting on the beach, around a campfire, under the stars, your thoughts “meandering through the sand.”
I recently looked up the video to this song. They played a lot of home videos during their concerts and sure enough, this video was a montage of beach scenes, shore birds, and breaching whales. Because they were from Colorado, I had assumed it was from the West Coast somewhere. About three-quarters through the video, I recognized a familiar lighthouse: Brant Point, which is located on the Cape’s “other” island, Nantucket. The band’s tune in a way cut closer to home than I had ever imagined.
See the video on Youtube.
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