Neil Diamond "Sweet Caroline"

I've been away for the last 10 days, on vacation in North Carolina.  10 days is a looong time ago.

Hell, even as a write this on Monday morning, it still hasn't been a full week since the Boston Marathon bombings took place, never mind the craziness of the manhunt, lockdown and capture in the days that followed.

It was pretty weird to be away from here while all this was taking place.

On the one hand, watching it unfold on TV in North Carolina was almost like being home, because the NC stations often just carried the feed from local Boston stations.  We saw familiar faces and heard familiar voices, talking about familiar places---it was like watching it at home.

And on the other hand, we were removed from it all.  There was a bit of a disconnect, since we weren't among a population that was in the thick of it.

On Saturday morning, we started our trek off Ocracoke Island, and the long drive up the Outer Banks.  The last stop before crossing the bridge back to the mainland is a rest stop at the Monument to the Wright Brothers at Kittyhawk.  While our gang used the facilitites, I took a moment to look at Facebook to see what was going on among my friends.

"Did Papi just drop the F bomb?"

There were a good dozen friends who posted this or something similar, moments after David Ortiz addressed the crowd, the City Of Boston and the World before Saturday's Red Sox game.

We got back on the road, and I found the game on the radio.

When they brought out Neil Diamond to sing "Sweet Caroline," we turned it up, and I looked over at my wife.  We both had tears in our eyes.

Why?

While going through a range of emotions over the course of the week---scared, shocked, saddened, angry, worried, relieved---neither of us had cried.

Why now?

We talked about it, but couldn't quite wrap our hands around the answer.

Was it a release?  Was it a connection to the City as a community?  Was it simply the power of music?

I can't say.

But I watched it again this morning, and teared up all the same.

Thanks Neil.


See the video on Youtube.


Hear the original on Youtube.

Morphine "Honey White"

Here’s a reasonable request from a music lover:

“How about more Morphine!”

We were big fans of the Boston-based band, and we were pretty excited that this large, family style restaurant in North Carolina was playing something so hip on the sound system.

They’d let the album play through, but by the time our meal was over, the record had ended and the disc player had switched to something decidedly less cool.

Now, just because the person in the kitchen running the stereo is hip, I guess you can’t assume that the waitstaff is, as well.

Because when our server was clearing our plates, she asked:

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

One of my friends said, “How about more Morphine!”

The server started to laugh, then realized that we were not kidding, and got a cloudy look on her face, gave a weak, unsure laugh, and then left the table.

It was only after she walked away that it occurred to me that she probably had no idea that “Morphine” is the name of a band, and that we weren’t requesting that she bring us a syringe of heavy duty painkiller.


Hear the song on Youtube.

Matthew Sweet "Girlfriend"

I was never a huge autograph hound, but I really wanted to meet Matthew Sweet.

We'd traveled from Virginia down to Winston-Salem's "Ziggy's," where more than a few of our favorite acts would come through.

It had been a hell of a night for Power Pop, as the opening band, Boston's The Gigolo Aunts killed it, and even tossed the crowd a jangle-pop nugget---a cover of "Feel" by Big Star.

And Matthew Sweet was in fine form, referencing the fact that he had recorded the "Girlfriend" album right in the general neighborhood with altern-Pop Producer/Guru/Guitar-star Mitch Easter.

Gilding the lily was the fact that Sweet's band was made up of two key members of another personal favorite at the time, Velvet Crush.

Now at that time, and hell, if you still ask me today, "PJ, What's Your Favorite Song?" I'll probably stammer for a second, to see which answer pops out of my mouth that day.

Some days, it's "Train In Vain" by The Clash.

And other days, it's "Girlfriend" by Matthew Sweet.

I can't quite remember how I scored it, but somehow, via a record company person, I owned a vinyl 45 of "Girlfiend."  I still have it.

Not only is it a happening shade of Red vinyl, but it contains some interesting b-side stuff, including the demo, which was called "Good Friend."  It even came with liner notes.  What 45 has liner notes?  But it was interesting to know that Sweet only changed the name (from "Good Friend" to "Girlfriend") because that's what his friends thought the song was called.  But he couldn't remember why the swinging piano part found in the demo, had not been a part of the final recording.

So, armed with my precious 45, I patiently waited in line after the show, to climb on Sweet's tour bus, to get a few seconds to say, "Thanks" and have him Sharpie-up my vinyl.

He was gracious and efficient, but you could detect that he'd rather be on to the next part of his night.  Goofing around behind him in the belly of the bus, was the hot, sweaty band, drinking and laughing.

But he did get a sweet and bemused smile on his face, when I pulled out my copy of "Teenage Symphonies To God," a Velvet Crush CD.

I didn't even have to ask, Sweet just turned around and called out, "Paul!  Hey, a kiss on the cheek for you . . ."

Paul  (the singer from Velvet Crush who provided much the additional vocal beauty in Sweet's set) looked a little sheepish, but also pleased, as he signed my CD, and the other band members called out to him, "A kiss on the cheek!  A kiss on the cheek . . ."

It's funny, I'd never heard the expression "kiss on the cheek" in that kind of context before.  But I knew what it meant, right away.  And funny, I've never heard that expression again, in that kind of context.  I don't know if it was made up on the spot, or if "kiss on the cheek" really is a thing, when a musician gets some secondary attention.



Hear the song on Youtube.


Hear "Good Friend" on Youtube.


Hear Velvet Crush on Youtube.  Featuring Mitch Easter!

Doc Watson "Deep River Blues"

Of all the words that will be written about the passing of perhaps the most influential roots/Americana guitar players of all time, none speaks to who Doc Watson was, more than his own words.

At his request, the life-sized statue of Doc Watson that sits in Boone, North Carolina, has this inscription:

"Just One Of The Guys."

Thanks Doc.  Thanks for everything.


Hear the song on Youtube.

You can find 7 different Doc Watson performances in the mvyradio archives under "D," including sets with The Nashville Bluegrass Band and "A Tribute To Merle," his late son.