Playlist 241012 & 241013

Sunday fun: “Let’s walk across a *real* volcano!” Or…why not kick back with some great tunes? Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, HI. September 2024.

Moondial by Pat Metheny
I Trust You To Kill Me by Rocco DeLuca and The Burden
Carney by Leon Russell
“Für Elise” by Jon Batiste (apparently from an upcoming album?)
“While My Guitar Gently Weeps” by Lucinda Williams (almost surely from a forthcoming album entitled Lucinda Williams Sings the Songs of The Beatles from Abbey Road)
Oh Brother by Dawes
You Should Be So Lucky by Benmont Tench
Mudcrutch by Mudcrutch

One of the great things about music streaming services (mine is Tidal), at least for old folks, rests on the opportunities for music discovery. I appreciate that Tidal doesn’t just pop the usual “because-you-listened-to…” stuff, but also just flat suggests stuff from across many genres. (Although it might be because I listen so eclectically. Hadn’t thought of that.) Today’s playlist reflects that. Saturday I listened to Moondial because it showed up on a recommended albums list. Today, a couple tracks on the 5-track “Recommended new tracks” list caught my eye: the Jon Batiste and Lucinda Williams tracks listed above.

The Dawes album appeared on a different list, “Suggested new albums for you”. I cannot believe I’ve gone 15 years without hearing of this group, since they fit comfortably into one of my favorite musical areas where intelligent lyrics and innovative musical lines collide with folk, rock, and jazz. This newest of albums from the group is like Paul Simon meets Jackson Browne meets the Eagles with just a dash of musical thoughts of Iggy Pop. (Yeah, I heard a line in there that I swear is a near rip-off of one from Brick By Brick.) Maybe they listened just a little to They Might Be Giants? Barenaked Ladies? This latest album is the only one I’ve listened to but I’m cueing up more in my near future.

While reading about Dawes on Wikipedia, I ran across the name Benmont Tench and finally separated him mentally from Bobby Tench, a vocalist on a couple of old Jeff Beck Group albums, Rough and Ready and Jeff Beck Group. The band Simon Dawes broke up and out of it came the new group Dawes. They played a bunch of jam sessions which included one with Tench, who’s a pianist/organist and vocalist. Because Tench joined Tom Petty in the group Mudcrutch which later evolved into Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers, this led in turn to learning about Mudcrutch which reformed in 2009 (the same year that Dawes formed–huh). Which completes the musical journey that underlies the playlist above.

And just like that, Phillies Phans

It never really began. One victory sandwiched by defeats and garnished with the end to their season? No, the machine ran down and died. Just like that.

I confess to you, my brothers and sisters in Philadelphia baseball, that I greatly sinned. After the Mets rattled off six unanswered runs in Game 3, I quit drinking Yuengling, the talismatic beer whose magic didn’t fail so much as it failed to show up. I lost faith. Our boys lost. Yesterday, with a sinking feeling that foretold the eventual outcome of Game 4, I didn’t watch the game, and I didn’t drink the final Yuengling in the fridge. There it is, Philly. You can blame me–although there are more than one million folks in SE Pennsylvania who certainly felt more pessimistic than I.

Now I face my most depressing season without the solace of fan-fueled postseason baseball. I detest cold weather, and autumn’s ever-cooling presence reminds me of it, like one of those guests who comes to the party late, immediately begins to suck the joy from the festive partygoers, drives away the liveliest guests first, and eventually leaves you alone in your cold, wintery room. Autumn’s first cold mornings might look pretty, but they signal the beginning of the end for summer’s warmth. I need the hopes of postseason baseball. When baseball’s postseason rolls around, fans fall into three groups: those whose teams weren’t expected to make it and didn’t; those whose teams were expected to make it and didn’t; and those who have varying degrees of hope that this time we’ll go all the way. When teams drop out of the postseason, as the Phillies just did, their fans join the middle group, the Group of Dashed Hopes. At times like this we say, “I would rather they were an up-and-coming team that wasn’t expected to make the postseason than to think they were going all the way only to watch them crash and burn.”

Of course, this isn’t true. Phillies fans suffered through two lengthy periods where year after year it seemed no one in charge had a plan for making the team better. I’m talking about the years 1994-2004 after 1993’s appearance in the World Series (the Joe Carter game!), and the period from 2012-2019 following the five-year run of 2007-2011. We know that having no hope tastes worse than this, a bland meal which becomes ever more unpleasant as the season unfolds. (Ask a White Sox fan.) But to savor a .586 season and the first division title in a dozen years, only to be served this…this…what can we call a 1-3 performance in their first round? Something steaming for sure. And to the Mets! There are many insufferable fans in baseball, but the ones who flood your ballpark from barely more than 100 miles away? Who fill your ballpark with their “Let’s go, Mets!” chants? Who have thrown beverages and even batteries at players (1999, John Rocker, Atlanta Braves) and yet somehow dodged the rep while it sticks to Phillies fans like an undeserved judgment? No, please, not to the Mets.

All because I failed to drink a Yuengling? Surely there are greater sins, oh gods of baseball. Give me back my joy. Make this autumnal chill release its grip on my baseball heart. Send me a reason to hope again.

Postseason!

The Phillies opened the postseason with a very disappointing game against the Mets Saturday. Zack Wheeler pitched masterfully, but the Mets ran his pitch count up, then feasted on our supposedly good relievers. Final score, 6-2. At least we were well lubricated. May the Phillies Gods forgive her for not putting a Philly beer into that mug on the left. Mine is on the right: a perfectly acceptable Yuengling Traditional Lager aka The Beer of the Phillies. Sunday’s game was much better–a classic according to some–and the tide turned right when I abandoned my esoteric brews from the Eastern seaboard and grabbed a Yuengling. Coincidence? No such thing in baseball. It’s Yuengling for the remainder of the postseason! (BTW, you’re welcome, Bryce Harper.)

Playlist 241006

It appeared in late July! I bought some in late-late September. Given the devastation in the Asheville area, it seemed appropriate. The Highland Brewery sits way up on a hill, so flooding was not an issue. How did they fare from the landslides? Don’t know.

Word of Mouth by Mike + The Mechanics. (A truly melancholy album, mostly filled with songs about the break-up of a relationship/marriage. It happened into my life just as my marriage ended.)
Be The Love You Want by Southern Avenue. (Many people will like this. Me? Meh. I really like their first album though.)
Instores & Outtakes by the North Mississippi Allstars. (Good combo of roots rock, blues, and that weirdness that says “Delta music”.)
Happiness Bastards by The Black Crowes. (What happened to them after the first album or two? Apparently a shift toward the center.)

Playlist 241005

16me. Paris Jazz Festival 1er. Novembre 1969 [Restauración 2022] Duke Ellington and the Newport All Stars
Twentyfour Al Di Meola
NYT Amplifier suggested playlist of Kris Kristofferson covers*
16 Biggest Hits Kris Kristofferson

*The New York Times has many newsletters for its subscribers. The Amplifier emails on Tuesdays and Fridays with a suggested playlist of 7-12 songs unified by some theme: songs of summer 2024; best songs from the movies of 1999; the “ultimate” outlaw country primer; and this one themed on Kristofferson because of his recent demise. Many are a bit too modern for my taste, but Kristofferson’s songs changed Nashville, according to none other than Bob Dylan. The suggested covers were:

“Help Me Make It Through the Night” by Gladys Knight & the Pips
“For the Good Times” by Al Green
“Sunday Morning Coming Down” by Johnny Cash
“To Beat the Devil” by Waylon Jennings
“Why Me” by Merle Haggard
“They Killed Him” by Bob Dylan
“Nobody Wins” by Rita Coolidge
“Loving Her Was Easier (Than Anything I’ll Ever Do Again)” by Willie Nelson
“The Hawk” by Tom Verlaine
“Me and Bobby McGee” by Janis Joplin

Not my everyday sign

Lili’uokalani Gardens, Hilo, Hawaii, HI. September 2024.

Sunrise, sunset, new habits

I have a close friend who’s attuned much more than I to weather and the physical world. As friendships go (at least the good, genuine ones), we mentor each other in an informal way. He recently did so without his knowledge. He habitually witnesses the rising and setting of the sun when he can. We both live where trees and ridges obscure those times of day. Therefore this mostly occurs when he relaxes oceanside at a family retreat, and he can walk out on the dock where an unobstructed view affords him an opportunity to watch and photograph the sun’s coming and going.

In retirement I’ve developed a habit of waking at pre-dawn when skies lighten. Nevertheless, I surprised myself when I still woke at that time our first morning in Hilo, despite having flown west for three time zones the previous day. “I’m going to watch and photograph the sunrise, just like my bud,” I thought. Perhaps there was a bit of snark in that, but by the time we left a week later, the snark had fled while the compulsion remained. The day I woke precisely at dawn, I thought, “Yikes! I’ve got to get out there!” I carried the habit throughout the trip, even to the last morning of it when we rose in Phoenix.

Anyway, here’s our first sunrise in Hilo.

Sunrise in Hilo, looking across Reeds Bay (and a bit of Kuhio Bay). September 2024.

Playlist 241001

Based on the title to this morning’s post, we started with Harpers Bizarre singing “I Love You, Alice B. Toklas” (the eponymous title to the movie) and “59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin’ Groovy)” plus a compilation album. We followed with:

Bookends by Simon & Garfunkel
Tribute To Steve Goodman (Live) by various guys like John Prine, Ed Holstein, John Harford, Arlo Guthrie, Richie Havens, and the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
David Bromberg by David Bromberg

I Love You, Hilo B. Airport

I’ve but three Hawaiian airports under my belt, so take this statement with several grains of salt: a first-timer’s arrival to Hawai’i could scarcely be better than passing through the Hilo International Airport. Smaller airports does not always mean better: a truly uninspired one exists in my hometown of Spokane. Most exist as tiny copies of the Big Boys. That’s what makes Hilo’s such a refreshing surprise.

An exit from Hilo International Airport. September 2024.

Unlike any other airport I’ve been in, Hilo’s opens to the air…everywhere. Call it The Lanai Effect. On the concourse level most walls rise to railing height only. The arrival/departure level echoes the effect. Large doorways punctuate the building so frequently, one becomes hard put not to claim the walls punctuate the openness. Green steel roofs the low-slung building and covers the walkways. It reminded me of photos I’ve seen of other tropical buildings, particularly those serving some kind of transportation need: freight depots in the Amazon; a train station in the Congo; tropical open-air markets in a cruise ship’s port of call.

Hilo International Airport as seen from “car rental row” across the street. September 2024.

Hilo’s airport boasts the most comfortable waiting area seats this road warrior has ever seen, similar to someone’s living room (note coffee and end tables):

General waiting area, Hilo International Airport (ITO). September, 2024.

Close-up of chairs in general waiting area at Hilo airport (post-TSA). September 2024.

I know, I know: not all airports could work this way. I’m just happy this one does.

100 Days of Hawaii?

As recounted here a few days ago, I balanced a 33-year-old slight this past month by traveling for nearly two weeks to Hawaii. Despite not being able to use my primary camera for most of our time on Maui, my smartphone took up the slack and I arrived home with over 750 photos. Now gather around while Grandpa adjusts the slide carousels just so and we’ll have a nice travelogue for the next couple hours.

No, just kidding. That’s what MY grandfather would’ve done. We would’ve been semi-bored because 30% of the photos were too dark to make out details, but mostly because Grandpa would feel the need to tell histories of many of the things we were trying to make out on the silver-encrusted screen–said histories sometimes being personal tales of the trip which really weren’t very interesting. “Now this is where we stayed in a really nice hotel. I don’t have a photo of that, but this bush caught our eye every morning when we left the hotel. It’s a rose-scented yackenberry–what, dear? It’s not? Well, then what is it?”

Occasionally we could have some fun by asking about weird things in the photos which he’d never noticed, or hooting when–despite all of his pre-show attention to detail–an occasional slide would be sideways and he would bravely carry on with the narrative despite his audience all having their heads at a 90º angle. The laughter would be uncontrollable if his photo also seemed near-unintelligibly dark while he droned on about what we couldn’t see.

Yet, a 10-to-14-day narrative a la our trip to Michigan and Ohio last year (starting here) seems too short–and as I reacquaint myself with last year’s travelogue–too much like Grandpa’s endless dronings in the guise of an interesting travel lecture. Instead, I’ll piecemeal it. Okay?

“Now after we overnighted in Las Vegas due to the inconvenient schedule of Southwest Airlines for Hawaii-bound East Coasters, we changed planes in Honolulu and caught our first glimpse of the Big Island when we flew by about four in the afternoon…oh, me…how did that happen?”