John Hiatt "Wood Chipper"

Every other week, my Father-In-Law comes over for dinner.

It's always a good food night, because we have a meal.  He's a great cook, and even something as simple as a meatball dinner prepared by him is a delicacy.  Or if he doesn't cook, then my wife---who learned a kitchen-thing or two from him---makes something great.  Food is one of the languages that they can speak to each other.

Whatever we end up eating, you can count in there being some red wine.  And sometimes there's pie.

Dinner is inevitably followed by some lounging in the living room, in front of the TV.

I can't say that I care about "America's Got Talent" or "The Voice" or "American Idol," but it's something that they can watch when they are together, follow when they are apart, and talk about when they are on the phone.  It's a language they can speak.

Even though I suppose I wouldn't choose to watch these shows, I am game to participate.  I can weather the bad singing, the manufactured drama, the endless commercials and product placement, and the general hokey-ness of reality/competition TV. 

But I can't stand one, ridiculous cliche.

"Man, you could sing the phone book!"

That phrase should be barred from "American Idol" and the like.  Just stop saying it. 

No, they couldn't sing the phone book and have it sound good.  It would sound stupid, even if Pavarotti did it.

Or so I used to think.

Check out this John Hiatt song that Barbara Dacey pointed out to me.

It's a story song about a woman who has disappeared.  Perhaps falling victim to foul play and a Wood Chipper.  All that was found of her was a note that the narrator once wrote, and on the back was a grocery list.

That's a great little detail, and it would be enough to complete the story.

But Hiatt, instead, sings the grocery list.

"Eggs . . . Hamburger Meat . . . Bread . . . Funyons . . ."

He got me with the "Funyons."  It's both hilarious and effective.

One of America's premiere songwriters just sang the word "Funyons," and its the highlight of the song, and maybe the album.

So I don't know, John Hiatt, maybe next record you could try the phone book!


Hear the song on Youtube.

John Hiatt "Pirate Radio"

Don't you hate it when you go to work, not in green, only to realize it's St. Patrick's Day?

Then please note, today is International Talk Like A Pirate Day.

Plan accordingly!


Hear the song on Youtube.

We're playing the new John Hiatt album, "Mystic Pinball" as tonight's mvyradio Album Of The Week.

John Hiatt "Damn This Town"

I write quite a bit of volume on this blog, on the subject of how a song gets added to rotation, whether or not a song should get added to rotation, what problems it might cause or solve to add a song to rotation . . .

But what happens next? I haven't written too much about that.

Every song has a shelf life, I suppose, for regular rotation. Some tunes may circulate with regularity for months. Some wear out their welcome quickly. Some tunes benefit from a fast ascent with heavy play, others work as a slow build gaining familiarity over a course of months.

But at some point, a song has to come out of regular rotation. It might be 8 weeks, it might be 6 or 7 months. But some time.

Then what?

There are two choices.

The song goes into a Hold folder. Meaning, we don't plan to play it regularly anymore. You might pull it out on a special occasion, but otherwise it's not a part of the fabric of the station.

Or, the song goes into the Library.

And that means the tune will continue to rotate, albeit with less regularity than a current song.

So it's a pretty big crossroads. Is the song going to be part of our future by becoming the part of the past that we write down?

That's where I'm at with John Hiatt's "Damn This Town."

Its had a pretty good run here at mvyradio. And its had a lot of things going for it.

Hiatt's a damn fine songwriter, deserving of the critical acclaim he receives. We have plenty of Hiatt tracks that have made it to the Library. The song did well on the National charts, so it was pretty broadly accepted by the kind of folks who listen to mvy-like stations.

But here's what it has going against it . . . it's been on the air for several months, and after a few initial inquiries ("I hear John Hiatt has a new song, can you play it?") . . . nothing. I haven't heard a request for it, received an email about it, had any passionate comment, pro or con, about it.

So I'm kind of on the fence.

Clearly someone liked the song, or the record wouldn't have sold, the tour wouldn't have sold and the song wouldn't have charted.

But if there is no passion for the song, what's the reason to keep playing it?

Even when I get negative comments about a tune, I can often feel like its okay to keep playing it. Because the comments are sometimes "I am so sick of this song," which indicates that they liked it once. If we just play it less, they'll probably like it again.

But when no one comments . . . well, you wonder if anyone is listening, or if they've just changed the station.

So, any "Damn This Town" lovers out there? Or haters? Speak now, or forever Hold-folder your peace.


See the video on Youtube.

John Hiatt "Drive South"

I wrote a long time back that I would be doing occasional "Seminal Moments" entries, about the handful of songs that aren't just memories, but marked major changes in my life.

I haven't done one in a while.

Admittedly, it's because the prospect of trying to distill these watershed events, into a blog entry, is pretty damn intimidating.

But I've been staring at the list for months now. Time to write these.

I had just turned 21. Had a new girlfriend I was deeply in love with. We went record shopping.

One of the great things about her, was that while we shared a lot of musical favorites, she was introducing me to all kinds of artists that I knew a little about, but hadn't delved into yet.

In a record store in downtown Amherst, I bought my first John Hiatt record, "Slow Turning" on her recommendation.

I'd read a lot about Hiatt in Rolling Stone, but he wasn't the kind of guy who got a lot of radio airplay in 1990, so I didn't really know the music.

We listened to that record a lot during our senior year of UMass, with the specter of "The Real World" looming, getting ever closer.

What were we going to do when we graduated? And what would become of us?

Hiatt knew.

A few weeks after graduation, I had my Toyota Tercel idling in my parents' driveway packed to the gills with everything I owned (which really wasn't that much).

Her sister lived in South Florida, so that's where she was going. She had asked me if I'd go with her. It seemed like as good a place as any to start Real Life. And, at the time, I couldn't imagine Real Life without her.

I remember watching my parents waving goodbye from the front porch, doing their best imitation of stoic souls, knowing they would go in the house and cry for an hour.

Part of me wanted to cry too. But it was overwhelmed by feelings of elation, freedom, promise and young love.

I put Hiatt on the car stereo, and sang along with Hiatt as I headed onto Route 95 for the next several hundred miles:

"C'mon Baby, Drive South, with the one you love."


Hear the song on Youtube.