A Spring Mix for a Rainy Day

I am fond of seasonal mix tapes. I honestly think that some songs feel better at different times of the year. Not sound better - feel better. Now that the sunlight hours stretch longer and longer into the night and daytime temperatures flirt with the 60s, I thought it time to put together a springtime mix. As fate would have it, its raining today, and the soft gray sogginess has seeped into what was meant to be an optimistic playlist. I present to you a spring mix tape in three movements, a heartwarming mixture of sun and rain.

I
1 - John Coltrane, "Welcome." I love Coltrane, no matter which noisy personality shows up. Here it isn't the Pentecostal preacher speaking in tongues, but Coltrane the melodist. McCoy Tyner's piano and Elvin Jones's cymbals create impressionistic waves in which Coltrane dreamily swims.
2 - Scott Walker, "It's Raining Today." I don't know much about Mr. Walker, but he has a rich baritone voice, which always seems a bit surprising in pop music. The key here is the high drone of strings in the background which keep this from ever sounding to sweet.
3 - The Beatles, "I'll Follow the Sun." In the past, I didn't much appreciate the Beatles's early catalog. Thankfully, I have come around. This is a fine example of Paul McCartney as storyteller. He can build a narrative from the barest elements. Plus, there is something special about sad words being sung to upbeat music.
4 - Uncle Tupelo, "Acuff Rose." One of Jeff Tweedy's simplest masterpieces. When playing solo acoustic shows, he often returns to the stage for one final encore of "Acuff Rose," without any electrification - no microphone, no amplifier. Songs will last forever; they will outlive us and our quaint ideas about the world and our place in it.
5 - Low, "When I Go Deaf." This is the happiest song about disability you will ever hear.

II
6 - Low Anthem, "Wire." The Low Anthem usually plays softly chugging roots music with great vocal harmonies. Their secret weapon, however, is Jocie Adams's clarinet, featured prominently here.
7 - Tom Waits, "Lost in the Harbour." From my personal favorite Tom Waits album, "Alice." This track features a wheezy pump organ, shadowy chords that swell and dissolve into each other as in a fog, and of course Tom's craggy vocals.
8 - The Beatles, "Something." Sometimes you need two Beatles songs on your playlist. Though he is often overlooked thanks to the great John vs. Paul debate, this track testifies to George's quiet greatness.
9 - R.E.M., "Sweetness Follows." There is a compelling, churning darkness that pervades this tune, thanks largely to the organ and cello that envelop the vocals. John Paul Jones wrote string arrangements for this album, though I am not sure if this cello came from his pen. I heartily thank whoever is to blame.
10 - Phish, "Limb By Limb." This is one of the springiest tunes on the list. When the weather warms I tend to like listening to jammy bands - the Dead, Dave Matthews, and of course, Phish. A floating bobbing tempo, anthemic melody, and Trey's Grateful Dead inspired solo should warm your heart on the rainiest spring day.

III
11 - Vijay Iyer, "Human Nature." Iyer is a current favorite of mine. His mathematically complex, and often Carnatic-infused jazz is always a treat. Here he plays a sensitive cover of a Micheal Jackson fave. Such a very pleasant surprise.
12 - Sufjan Stevens, "Sleeping Bear, Sault Saint Marie." Banjo? Check. Oboes? Check. Layered vocal harmony building to a crushing emotional crescendo? check. Ah, Sufjan.
13 - Uncle Tupelo, "Black Eye." Another Jeff Tweedy UT track. Unlike Acuff Rose, however, this track comes from a more troubled place. Every time I play this I think of all the "black eyes," I have worn with foolish pride.
14 - Tom Waits, "Day After Tomorrow." Something about this song hit me square in the chest, took the wind right from me. I think this one line says more about life than everything I've written in all of my papers, poems, stories and songs put together: "And the summer, it too will fade, and with it comes the winter's frost dear / And I know we too are made, of all the things that we have lost here."
15 - John Cale, "Hallelujah." Leonard Cohen's most covered song, played by my favorite Welsh madman. What more to say?

Find the mix here, and enjoy this somewhat melancholy and rainy spring day.

A True Story - From Long Ago

One day in World History from Antiquity to 1500 (we never got out of ancient Egypt), the stranger sitting next to me struck up a conversation. It is a sad testament to my solipsism that I could still think of him as a stranger. It was after midterm, and despite the fact that there were no assigned seats we had all occupied the same miserable plastic spaces since the first week of class. I had seen this young man three times a week for a month and a half. I had probably acknowledged him with a very cool tight-lipped head nod at least once or twice. But, we had not yet spoken. I never learned his name.

On the day he spoke, he was wearing black slacks, a black shirt and a Roman collar.


He leaned over toward me, disturbing me in my silent reading, and asked, "Do you like sports cars?"
"Sports cars?"
"Yeah - do you like sports cars?"

I wasn't sure. I mean, I suppose like most people I have a natural interest in a well-designed machine. The aesthetics of German and Italian engineering are not entirely lost on me, though I know nothing of the mechanics of motorsport.
"Sure-" I was trying to be affirmative, affable, non-committal.

"What's your favorite?" he continued.

I was caught. Favorite? In truth, the last time I had actually thought of something which was vaguely automotive was in first grade when the very coolest thing was a trapper keeper with a Ferrari, Lamborghini or Porsche on the cover. I dug deep in my brain to think of something both classic and contemporary.

"A Porsche, I guess."

"Which one?"

"The Boxster." I was proud of myself for that one. It came somehow out of the mysterious smokey contents of my brain, complete with a picture of a shiny silver bulbous beast hurdling down the Autobahn.

"I like DeLoreans," he said.

His answer took my focus from my book and I looked over at him for the first time. Could he really have said that? The DeLorean? Doc Brown's time machine was his favorite car? And he wanted to talk to me about it! I looked at his notebook and saw that the front cover was filled with crude pencil sketches of the sharp metal car of his dreams.

From this moment on, he rattled off an impressive soliloquy of DeLorean statistics and facts. The only one I recall now, some 10 years later, is that there had even been a gold-plated version of the car in question (see picture above). I looked around to see if anyone else was listening. All of our classmates had found very interesting things to look at on their desks. As my eyes returned to my neighbor, I noticed something glinting in the opened duffel bag at his feet. I couldn't help stealing a glance and saw not one, not two, but three bright silver model DeLoreans, shining like tiny chariots of Helios.

Suddenly, I realized that he had stopped talking. He was staring at me expectantly, waiting for me, I suppose, to applaud his superior knowledge of a rare and obscure 1980s man machine. I decided to take the conversation in a different direction and seized upon his distinctive clothing.

"Are you studying to be a priest?" I asked.

"No," he said. He was quite curt. With that he returned to his notebook and added some shading to the largest central automotive miniature.

It wasn't Halloween.