E.J. Friedman

Here it is! This month’s feature over at the Vinyl District.

I got a chance to talk with music blogger, artist manager, and all-around local legend E.J. Friedman about his site, loudersoft, Memphis music, and more.

Hope y’all enjoy…

Another Cup of Coffee with E.J. Friedman!

Until next time…

CM

Here’s February’s Another Cup of Coffee: I talked with a renowned Memphis DJ–Witnesse–about all things electronica.

Head on over to the Vinyl District and take?

Another Cup of Coffee with Witnesse!

Cheers!

CM

Another Cup of Coffee?s is back in 2012. Expect these posts with the Vinyl District once a month. For the first Cup of 2012, I talked to a Memphis music superfan. I hope y’all enjoy it as much as I did.

Head on over to the Vinyl District and take?

Another Cup of Coffee with Randi Lynn!

Cheers!

CM

Another Cup of Coffee’s back this month. I chatted with longtime Memphis musician and Fareveller Music Fest-founder Brandon Herrington.

Head on over to the Vinyl District and enjoy…

Another Cup of Coffee with Brandon Herrington!

Happy Thanksgiving!

CM

The Bad News:

I’ve been MIA on the Blogeroo lately, because I’ve been on the road and busy to the point of threatening to my health.

The Good News:

For an independent musician, “on the road and busy to the point of threatening my health” is always a good thing. Less time to blog means more time doing the things I love most. I hope to do a little better balancing both, but for now…

The Fun News:

There’s a new blog! I’ve picked back up writing with the fine folks at TVD (Another Cup of Coffee coming soon…) and Ardent. Here’s a Pick Three post I wrote for them: 3 things I’m inspired by right now.

None of them contemporary. Savvy play, Me!

How’s y’all? Tell your mama and them I asked how they doin.

For blog newcomers, I write a monthly feature with the Vinyl District. I interview a different person in the Memphis music community: artists, sound guys, business people, superfans, etc. The idea is that, over time, we might see how all the pieces fit together to make something really special. It?s called Another Cup of Coffee.

Most recently, I talked with one of my all-time heroes: Big Star’s drummer and lone surviving member, Jody Stephens. I can’t tell you how much fun I had talking to him about Big Star, Memphis music, and much more.

So please, hop on over to TVD and enjoy Another Cup with Jody Stephens!

(Note: To read all the past Another Cups of Coffee, click here. You can stay updated on all my blog posts, here and elsewhere, by subscribing to the blog or bookmarking this page.

Also, if you?d like to subscribe to TVD Memphis, click here.)

Somewhere along the way…

…I met a cashier named Billie Jean. She was born in 1984. Her parents are my kind of funny.

…A semi threw a tire directly in front of me. I evaded tire chunks and smoke for two full minutes. My first thought was, “AHHHWHAAAOOAAAHNO!!!!” After thirty seconds, though, it resembled the last leg of Oregon Trail. I dodged the logs and rocks, navigated rapids, and ended up in the Willamette Valley. With yellow fever.

Mims Hall

…I found myself accidentally in the same spot at 9AM, September 11, 2011 that I was on September 11, 2001.

…Someone else’s mom bought me chocolate-covered coffee beans “for those long, lonely nights on the road.”

…I broke between five and 300 strings mid-song. Not sure what’s up with my guitar.

…And I broke someone else’s guitar strap mid-song. Actually, both of those things happened at Eddie’s Attic. Sorry, Eddie’s Attic.

…This happened. Thanks Smith’s Olde Bar.

…I unwittingly gave a girl an unfortunate Saved By the Bell-inspired nickname. Hint: it involves Professor Jeremiah Lasky.

My cousin.

…I sang Hanson to a springer spaniel. Sang Paul Simon with a brittany spaniel. Watched the Redskins with a shetland sheepdog.

…Pizza muffins.

…Logged miles and miles of US highway. Not a lot of interstate between these coastal towns. Lots of 55mph speed limits. Too many state troopers. Way too many stoplights. And I’ve passed more CiCi’s than I can count.

…On the bright side: Dirty Dick’s Crab House. That exists.

…Locally-brewed beers named after Doors songs. Love Me Two Times Blonde Ale.

…I stole a ton of cookies from Hampton Inn. I mean A LOT of cookies. What’s that Health & Fitness? You want to do a cover feature on my diet? Why, sure!

…I crashed a pre-wedding party at a Hampton Inn.

…I heard a string quartet play Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” at a wedding that wasn’t at a Hampton Inn.

…Met a bunch of Citadel students. Several Emory law students. A few really enthusiastic Florida fans who liked my hat. One confused guy at Safeway. And two women named Tammi.

…I made one cousin blush.

…I cracked one windshield.

…I haven’t fixed one cracked windshield.

…Kicked one ATM.

October 18!

…Posted videos, pictures, updated the site, worked on some new songs, edited new press photos, designed album art, sent off the new record to the fine digital distributors, set a release date (OCTOBER 18), scheduled a few interviews, booked more fall shows, and did everything but blog-write. And for that, I’m sorry. I vow to blog a little more frequently from here on out. We’ll make it work.

To all the new friends in Atlanta, Jacksonville, and Charleston: I had a blast meeting y’all! Can’t wait to see you again down the road.

To everyone in DC, Philly, and NY this week: saddle up.

Somewhere along the way,

CM

P.S. For all the upcoming show info, click here.

(Spotiflybabies can listen to it here.)

The entire day can best be described as “relentless interstate lovemaking.” The temperature was cool, the air smelled autumnal, but most importantly: it felt like fall.

Running tour photo gallery here.

There are few things I love more in life than driving in picturesque fall weather with my entire record collection at my disposal. Throw in a truly unwise amount of caffeine, and the adrenaline of kicking off a tour, and you’ve got one crazy songer-singwriter playing air-drums to himself for 431 miles. Yesterday, me, Ruby, and The Road got back together. We fell in love all over again. We’re gonna be together forever.

All this to say, I didn’t quite know where I was going, or what I was doing, or what would come next, but I got an unblinking tour of where I’ve been. All while fall did its merciless fall thing outside my window. The only way it could’ve been more heady was if some sad-eyed girl turned up by the roadside, selling cider and wearing sweaters.

You, Me, Fall, The Road, Ruby, and a little Music. Let’s do this.

(Which reminds me: what are y’all listening to these days? I’m always desperate for new road-trip music. Holler.)

I made it to Murfreesboro just before dark and got settled at Bonhoeffer’s. I’ve said this before and I’ll said it again: I’ll play a dive bar, your mama’s basement, your grandaddy’s nursing home. Anyone, anytime, anywhere: it doesn’t matter. But last night was a real treat: a weekly time, place, and great-sounding room where a ton of passionate college kids regularly come, hang out, and share music. From the artist’s side, it’s a wonderful thing. Thanks to the folks at Bonhoeffer’s and ODPsi for having me! Looking forward to seeing y’all again.

Hellooooo Murfreesboro! What a motley crew.

Sixteen hours and 465 miles after I started, I made it to a little house in East Nashville. I found old friends and a pillow waiting on me. The house belongs to my buddy Steve (who co-produced two of my records), and was also the recording studio where we made my third record. I woke up this morning in the house that built Up. It’s another beautiful day. A million memories chase me around this town. They’re waiting around every corner. They’re riding shotgun. They’re in my rearview, they’re behind me and ahead, and they’re gaining speed. I can’t outrun them. I wouldn’t even try.

–CM

P.S. See y’all tonight!

I’m playing a marathon concert in the street TODAY to raise money for the next record. You don’t have to be in Memphis to join me. Here’s how you can help:

MEMPHIANS:
When: 4-10PM (or anytime online)
Where: 778 S Cooper, I Love Memphis mural in C-Y (or right here online)
What: Anything! Every single pledge is hugely appreciated, no pledge is too small.

OUT-OF-TOWNERS:
1) Visit ChrisMilam.com

2) Click the yellow “Make a Donation” button. Enter your Paypal info, or just your credit card info. Just a few clicks–fast, easy, and secure.

EVERYONE: Spread the word on Facebook. Tell a friend. Absolutely everything helps.

Finally, the nice folks at Vinyl District and Ardent Studios had me play their “Warm Up” series to spread the word. Here’s a brand new video and new tune.

Thanks SO MUCH for all your support! I know from pledging on other artists’ Kickstarters how much it means to share hard-earned money with some crazy musician. Your support means everything, and I can’t thank you enough for it. Every single donation (no matter how small) goes a long, long way towards the next record. I can’t wait to dedicate it to y’all.

Thank you, and I’ll see you out there!

CM

The good news is that Monday (Day 2) at Ardent went so well that the record’s wrapped! We mixed, dotted some t’s, crossed some i’s, and sent the tracks off to New Orleans to be mastered.

The bad news is that the start of this week was so productive that I’m fried and useless now. Think of a not-delicious Soul Fish basket.

But before I melt back into the pavement, I wanted to pass along a few more pictures.

The view from the mixing couch.

For example, here is a picture.

This picture is of my leg and shoe in the control room for Studio A. I have another leg and shoe, but I can’t prove it from this picture. You might think that I’m posting this picture solely for its aesthetic merits (“Look at that leg! Look at that shoe!”), but wait, there’s more!

This picture is both fun and educational, because it illustrates a crucial point about the “mixing” process. For the producer, the mixing process involves sitting in the captain’s chair (Look, there’s Jeff!), working with every tiny detail of every tiny sound, bringing them all together to make an overall great sound, and being a multi-purpose genius and visionary. For the artist, the mixing process involves sitting on the couch, hearing your own song 8000 times in a row, and saying “Yeah! YEAH!” a lot.

It’s like being on a roller-coaster for twelve hours, if that roller coaster did flips and corkscrews and dips and drops with your self-esteem instead of your body and hairdo. At the end, you praise the roller-coaster’s architect for making it fun and keeping you safe. Breathe. Relax. You’re in good hands.

Unless…

The producer/engineer/multi-purpose genius and visionary leaves the captain’s chair, and you find yourself alone in the control room with a million buttons at your disposal. As most NASA employees and all my grade school teachers can tell you, I love pushing buttons. Literal, figurative, you name it. So I occasionally fought the temptation to push buttons that could perhaps 1) break Ardent Studios 2) launch a space shuttle 3) complicate a Lost plot 4) etc.

Of course, I’m just being goofy. The fact is that a lot of people worked a lot of hours for two days straight to make this little record happen, and I’m amazed by their work. Humbled, really. I can’t wait to share it with y’all.

More soon, I promise. But in the meantime, want to join me for this (either in Memphis or online)?

(Details here. Invite folks on Facebook here.)

12:01AM:

Set alarm for 8AM. Go to bed.

6:45AM:

Wake up for no good reason. Un-set 8AM alarm. Wonder why I haven’t slept well since fourth grade.

6:47AM:

Check to see if my throat works. It does!

8:13AM:

Order an ill-advised bathtub of coffee and write yesterday’s blog.

9:43AM:

Vocal warm-ups and water-chugging session at my brother’s. Did I mention I moved out of my place this week? I’m “technically” homeless right now. Technically.

10:14AM:

Brother leaves for the day. He wishes me luck: “It’ll be great! Holler when you’re done. Keep it weird.” Before I can ask what that last sentence even means, he’s out the door. It’s like he’s referencing something mutually understood between us, only I have no clue what that is. Picture your friend or sibling yelling, “Whatever you do, DON’T FORGET CLEVELAND” before leaving the house one day. Easy explanation here is that I’m weird. But that can’t be right.

11:55AM:

I am waiting in an Exxon until noon. I have to wait until noon to buy beer. Don’t worry, kids: nobody’s DRINKING the beer. We use it to water the plants at Ardent.

12:00PM:

The cashier tells me to wait until 12:01. She wants to “play it safe.” The other cashier scolds her: “you got this man waiting!” I love the other cashier.

12:33PM:

Getting settled in Ardent Studio A. If you’re wondering how cool this place is, or how many of my heroes have recorded here, or how incredibly geeked I am to spend the next two days making noise here, click.

1ishPM:

The view from my iso booth: Landon (left), Jeremy (right), Dave (off-screen to the right of Jeremy).

We’ve started tracking (read: recording), so time from here on out is a little hazy.

Let’s take a minute to run down who we are and what we’re doing here.

We’re making a two-song single. Side A is called “Never In Love” (an up-tempo, rocking one) and Side B is called “Always In Love” (a slow, quiet one). They’re kind of companion pieces. We’re starting with “Never In Love” because it’s the bigger production.

Jeremy Stanfill is on drums. You might know Jeremy any number of ways. He’s one of my favorite local singer/songwriters. He’s great at about 1200 different instruments. Today he’s chosen to be great at 1) drums and 2) having hair like Tim Riggins. In that order.

Landon Moore is on bass. You might know Landon as the bassist for 90% of the bands in Memphis. His awesomeness is well-documented. We also went to the same high school. Go Mustangs!

Dave Cousar is on electric guitar. Dave’s full-time gig is playing with Amy LaVere. His work on her new album (Stranger Me) is a little masterpiece. Nobody balances “gorgeous” and “weird” like Dave. He’s surreptitious.

They’re all in the main room. I’m in time-out (read: the isolation booth) singing and playing acoustic guitar.

Jeff Powell is producing the record. Jeff’s resume speaks for itself. He’s also a really nice guy, and knows a startling amount about the Coors (Coors beer) family history.

1:29PM

Everyone plays the song together, but we’re tracking the drums and bass first. If you think of the song as a house, they’re the foundation. Everything gets built up from there. So, we just built our foundation.

I love the energy of a band playing together in the same room (as opposed to tracking parts independently). It makes a difference in the sound and the feel of the final track.

1:56PM

Dave unleashes the world’s creepiest pick-up line.

3:30PM

We’ve got guitars! We’ve got guitars. I’m always surprised by how my guitar sounds in a studio. She’s like a beautiful girl you’ve known so long you forget she’s pretty.

4:06PM

The calvary arrives. Josh and Geoff from Star & Micey are here to work on some background vocals. We spend a while working out the parts, then spend a while longer just playing around with a million different harmonies.

(Side note: I posted a video of this on Facebook.)

These guys are inexhaustible. About an hour into singing and experimenting, Josh mentions that he recently injured his vocal chords; he tore them and is waiting on medical treatment. Meanwhile, he keeps singing. They’re all game for anything, willing to sing any part, try any half-baked idea. They put everything into it. At this point, I’m gone. I’m on my own timeline. If the rest of my life consisted of just this and eating Fruit Roll-Ups, I’d be the happiest man alive.

It’s around this time I realize I still need to actually sing this song.

5:51PM

I actually sing this song.

Somewhere Around 7PM

We start “Always In Love.” I had an idea that Dave might play it electric, so we start going through the song. It’s a pretty simple finger-picking pattern. After a few runs, Dave informs me that because I play “different” (read: lefty and upside-down), the finger-picking pattern I play isn’t really possible for a right-handed player.

Roundabout 7:44PM

So, I play the main part and Dave adds some “salt and pepper.” And oregano. Cayenne?

8:39PM

Now’s a good time to mention that the echo chamber here is like Jim James’ vision of heaven. I’m singing from somewhere inside it. I’m trying to get lost and never return.

9:25PM

Susan Marshall joins me in the fray.

You might notice I’m being less detailed about this song. That’s partially because it’s a softer song and less people are playing on it. But it’s really because I haven’t played it out yet, and I’d like to keep y’all in the dark. Deal with that!

I’ll say this: Susan Marshall is fantastic, and I’m thrilled to sing with her.

10:07PM

Dinner run for the gang. I’m too wired to eat anything. I just take pictures of condiments. Like this one. Zesty?

Zesty.

(My next album will be called Zesty.)

Someone at Burger King said, “Look, there’s already sweet & sour. What’s another adjective? Zesty? Sure, ‘zesty’ isn’t a flavor per se, but it’s a word, and people will eat anything. Next month let’s try ‘bold’ sauce and ‘tasty’ juice.”

10:23PM

Al Gamble joins the party, fresh off the interstate from Alabama. He’s right on time to play piano and B3, but a too late for the Zesty. I have a hard time hearing B3 without hearing the beginning of “Like a Rolling Stone.” Along the same lines, I can’t hear a D-chord without hearing the beginning of “Free Fallin.’” And because of a local pool-supply commercial from the mid-90′s, I can’t hear the words “it’s hot” without thinking, “and you need a pool! That’s Watson’s.”

Near 11PM

Look, this might be the 5 Hour Energies, sleep deprivation, over-caffeination, or borderline starvation talking, but this stark, spooky piano is getting real for me. I’m thinking about 7th grade. I’m thinking about my grandmother. Where am I? Mamaw, is that you? I don’t even know what’s happening. Al Gamble is a shaman.

MidnightorsoAM

I’m contemplating moving into Ardent. I’ve already moved out of my place. Everything i own is in my trunk. I could sneak a toothbrush and a pillow in. I really don’t think anyone would notice. Jeff says, “I think we can call it a day.”

After Midnight, The Next Day Practically, Not Morning Yet, Somewhere In the Witching HourAM

I’m in “bed,” I’m trying to go to sleep, my heart’s pounding, my leg’s tapping, and then there’s some new melody forming in my head. And there’s a few lyrics. Nothing major, just a few words, a little phrase I like. And a nice run of melody. Will I remember this tomorrow? I don’t know if I’ll remember this tomorrow. Good grief.

Where’s the tape recorder?

–CM

7AM: Time to make the rock!

I woke up this morning shot out of a cannon. I woke up like a man who’s slept for days, or maybe years, or maybe just six hours on the floor of his brother’s house, but woke up like he’d slept forever. I woke up like a kid wakes up on Christmas morning, because today I’m making a record.

In my All-Time Pantheon of Favorite Things, here’s the short list (in debatable order):

1) Christmas

2) Making a record

3) Football

4) Freedom

5) Ribs

(Realizing now that probably looks a lot like Toby Keith’s list…)

In a few hours, I’ll walk into Ardent Studios. By Tuesday morning, we’ll have a 2-song single for y’all. This might be the kiddie pool of coffee I’ve had talking, but I CANNOT WAIT.

Let’s tackle the rest of this little pre-blog self-interview-style:

Chris, how do you prepare when you’re getting ready to record? What’s your routine?

Excellent question, Me! Typically I lay low, rest the voice, get some sleep, and practice. Nothing crazy. But last night I had the opportunity to play a Sweet 16 Birthday Party in scenic Arlington, Tennessee.

What?

You heard me. I played some songs at a nice Sweet 16 Birthday Party. There were cupcakes and balloons and a bunch of teenagers who were way nicer/cooler than I was at their age.

Any highlights?

During a break, our host/DJ played some dance songs. One prompted a hip-hop line dance that (I guess?) the new Macarena, only PG-13. So while twelve girls did that in the living room, some guys in the kitchen watched them dance . And I flashed back to high school, being in those guys’ shoes, just stewing in a tidal wave of my own hormones and sexual frustration. For a minute, it got real in there.

I’ll say this: wait til college, guys. Just wait til college. I promise.

Then what?

I went home, drank green tea with honey, meditated, and slept in a hyperbaric chamber.

Really?

No, I shouted on the phone, drove around singing along to Counting Crows, ate a late dinner, watched an old Office DVD, and slept (kind of) for a few hours.

What else are you listening to?

That’s pretty much it. The last two weeks, I’ve become re-obsessed with the Counting Crows. I can’t get enough. Throw in a little Whiskeytown Pneumonia. And, as always, whatever Tom Petty’s available.

Does anyone hate Tom Petty?

No. That person doesn’t exist.

What else?

Nada for now, but mucho more soon.

It’s my birthday too,

CM

The good news is that I’ve got some really fun stuff in the works over the next few weeks. Fall tour stuff, new record stuff (!), etc. It’s busy around here, which is just the way I like it.

The bad news is that I’ll be taking a few weeks off from the regular blog-posts. I’ll still post here intermittently, but the usual features (Song of the Week every Friday, etc.) will take a short break.

The good news is that once the tour starts in September, I’ll be posting a ton from the road. To whet your appetite, you can read through all my past tour-blogs here.

The fun news is this: I’m raising money for my next record and instead of Kickstarter, I’m taking it to the streets! The date is September 2. Memphis folks can attend in person, and out-of-towners can participate online. You can read all about it here and invite friends on FB here.

There is the fancy poster I made for it.

And finally, if you’ve ever dreamed of seeing me in a movie trailer dressed like a Flock of Seagull, today is your lucky day.

Have a great weekend!

CM

(There’s more where those came from…so stay tuned!)

Details: www.chrismilam.com

Song of the Week: Bon Iver, “Calgary“

Here’s the scene: you like Bon Iver’s “Calgary.” In fact, you track it down when it’s released, give it a listen, give it another ten listens, and then buy it. You like it enough that you add it to your iTunes library and your iPhone’s library. You play it frequently on both, and you put it on different playlists, and it comes up regularly on shuffle.

You like this song.

Now, you have friends over. Say you’re a person of the world and your friends are diverse; it’s a motley crew. Your computer’s providing background music for this de facto party. Everyone’s in the same room and is enjoying the party music rocking from your iTunes. Laughter and snacks abound. Frivolity! Friends! Huzzah! And, at the height of the festivities, Bon Iver’s “Calgary” comes on shuffle. Full blast. And for the same reason computers freeze as husbands are looking at porn and their wives are approaching the room, the song can’t be paused or skipped, only endured for its entirety.

My question: in that moment, are you embarrassed? And if so, why?

Here’s something my friends (in real life now) might tell you: I’m hard to embarrass. I’m hard to embarrass because I love to laugh, I love to laugh at myself, and I think I’m ridiculous. When it comes to matters of taste (e.g. art, entertainment, other things people insist are solely subjective), I’m even harder to embarrass. Music is something I’ve always created, loved, invested in, and thought about. Jazz snobs and teeny boppers alike don’t phase me. I know what I know and I know what I like and I love what I love.

But I can tell you without equivocation: in the scenario above, I am embarrassed. I’m deeply embarrassed, and I’m not sure why.

You might say: “Chris, it’s a party, and that’s not party music. The same record-scratching moment would happen if any slow, somber song interrupted the festivities.” And that’s probably true, but that moment wouldn’t embarrass me. I would simply experience the non-party song with everyone else in a non-party way. For example, if Pearl Jam’s “Nothingman” interrupted the party, I’d think to myself, “God, I love that song….Pearl Jam!…Huzzah!…I wonder if anyone here somehow hasn’t heard this song…I should burn it for them….where’s the cheese dip…” And so on.

Music has a representative quality: we often let it speak for us, because it can say so much with a few notes and a few words. There’s the music I love because I’m comfortable letting it speak for me. There’s also the music I enjoy because I’m comfortable with how little it speaks for me. In that way, I’m equally comfortable playing Bob Dylan’s “Desolation Row” and Ginuwine’s, “My Pony” for mixed company. One I relate to deeply, and one I don’t relate to at all. Serious connection versus casual fun; total intimacy versus distance. Whether we mean to or not, we self-identify through music. I’m the type of person who loves Bob Dylan and casually enjoys Ginuwine. Under these definitions, “guilty pleasure” doesn’t apply, because I don’t feel guilty either group. I know what I get out of the songs I deeply relate to (and love) and those I don’t relate to (and love anyway). One pleasure is deeper and more rewarding than the other, but neither is guilty.

But every now and then, a song occupies a rare middle-ground: I relate to it while recognizing I’m not “the type of person who usually relates to it.” This might explain the party embarrassment. Everyone at the party knows I’m a Dylan fan, and everyone at the party knows I’m not a Ginuwine fan. If they don’t, they can rapidly infer it. But Bon Iver makes serious, thoughtful, often gorgeous music that (for whatever reason) I don’t typically relate to. By accidentally blasting “Calgary,” I’d worry about misrepresentation.

During a party, there’s no quick way to explain why this song resonates and the others don’t. There’s no three-minute explanation for how this song is the center of the Venn Diagram between “Things That Sound Kind of Like Enya,” “Things That Chris Loves To Hear.” There’s no easy answer for why this song does to me what great pop songs should do: bring in someone new.

“Guys,” I’d protest, “I’m not one of those.”

Only I would be. And I am.

What’s interesting about Adele isn’t just that she’s become hugely popular off the merits of a smash hit. That happens. What’s interesting is that she’s the type of artist that demands commentary, and that commentary (right now) is almost universally glowing. As much as I see her name on my Facebook wall, the status is rarely a generalized “this song rocks!” More often, it’s “I adore this lady!” or “Adele inspires me.” People are invested in her–and her unique talents–as much (if not more) than any one song.

I hear that she’s the biggest vocal talent since young Whitney. I hear that her catalog will one day become what we hoped for Amy Winehouse. I hear that she’s an inspiration to aspiring female artists feeling pressure to look like Carrie Underwood to make a living. I hear her no-tweeting-and-no-commercials stance provides a new blueprint for artists wishing to retain privacy in their personal life and integrity in their professional life. I hear–every day–that Adele’s music makes folks fall in love, or want to fall in love, or fall out of love, or break up spectacularly, or sing about everything or nothing at the top of their lungs in the echoplex of their shower. And that’s all great.

Adele makes me want to listen to Semisonic.

Song of the Week: Semisonic, “Closing Time“

Dan Wilson co-wrote “Someone Like You,” along with two other songs for Adele’s 21 (“One and Only” and “Don’t You Remember”). Additionally, he’s co-written award-winning, chart-topping songs for Josh Groban and the Dixie Chicks. But, like any child of the 90′s, I know Dan Wilson as The Guy From Semisonic, which means he’s the guy who wrote and sang “Closing Time.”

When I heard that Adele collaborated with Dan Wilson of Semisonic for her breakout hit, I was a little surprised. I’ll admit it: I was ignorant of his other successful co-writing endeavors since Semisonic. I was ignorant of everything in Dan Wilson’s life and career except “Closing Time.” In my mind, Dan Wilson gave us four-minutes-and-one-second of glistening pop glory in 1999 and promptly retired to Vermont.

Obviously, that didn’t happen.

It didn’t happen for Fountains of Wayne, either. Their 96X staple “Sink To the Bottom” might’ve been their one wondrous hit…except they kept writing hits. Adam Schlesinger co-wrote the title song to That Thing You Do. He’s written chart-toppers for Katy Perry and the Jonas Brothers. He formed the power-pop group Tinted Windows with a Hanson brother and a Smashing Pumpkin. And, of course, Fountains of Wayne had their own resurgence with the 2003 smash “Stacy’s Mom.”

Clearly, there is some precedent for late-90′s pop-rockers becoming songwriting juggernauts in a new era and within new genres. But, as I wrote before, we might’ve seen Fountains of Wayne’s resurgence coming. Their major and minor hits weren’t adherent to any one aesthetic, and they didn’t seem dependent on lightning-in-a-bottle flashes of inspiration. Their best music in 1997 is like their best music in 2011: deliberate, fun, and unabashedly pop.

As for Semisonic, I simultaneously cherished “Closing Time” for what it was (a likable, unifying bar song) and dismissed it for what I thought it was (a lightning-in-a-bottle song by future one-hit wonder). When this song hit in 1999, my brother’s friends were all home for summer vacation from college. I remember a few of them–all from the same sorority–squealing when it came on the radio. They sung along with Off Broadway fervor and gesticulation. And I will never forget their collective adulation for the song’s de facto refrain: “every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” If Facebook existed then, all of them would’ve made that their personal quote. Minutes after the song was over, they were still talking about that line, how it summed up their life and worldview that summer, etc. That song–specifically, that lyric–resonated with them in a very real way.

And because I was a teenager and desperate for a higher-ground of coolness, I laughed at them.

Pictured: Dan Wilson, not in Vermont.

It goes without saying that I was wrong. I was wrong for insincerely hating that song (I liked it). I was also wrong for sincerely dismissing it. I thought Semisonic’s “Closing Time” was something I would pretend to dislike in 1999 and never hear–or think about–in the Next Millennium, when everything would be Better, Smarter, and Not Resembling James Van Der Beek. I very, very wrong. When it comes to music, I love being wrong.

Adam Schlesinger’s music resonates with urban singles with a past suburban adolescence, present office jobs, romantic entanglements, habitual drinking that never seems sad, and a penchant for fun-loving pop. That is perhaps his greatest and most unique gift: he knows that audience, and he knows (perhaps better than anyone) how to write for them. And whether it’s a country song, or a jukebox rock staple, or a Groban-crooner, Dan Wilson knows co-eds on the brink of adulthood who are both reactive and reflective, simultaneously open to anything and “over” everything.

Somewhere, right this second, there’s an XTerra full of girls home from college for the summer. “Someone Like You” blasts through their radio, and it won’t go any louder. They’re singing along at the top of their lungs. They’re updating their Facebook status. They hear Adele and they love her voice, and they love her song, and they’re inspired by her.

And somewhere, right this second, there’s a teenaged boy in the backseat feeling stalked and consumed by this song. He’s squirming in his seat. He cannot get out from underneath it. The #1 Hit of the Summer has tracked him down, again. He can’t escape it, and he doesn’t try to.

And somewhere other than Vermont, Dan Wilson is smiling.

Amy LaVere is a criminal.

If you don’t believe me, a bit of background (these two songs from 2007′s Anchors & Anvils):

1) “Washing Machine,” in which our protagonist faces a hellish day-to-day, balancing loneliness (when her man’s gone) and abuse (when her man’s home). The song’s lyrics look ahead to a breaking point; its guitars enact it.

2) “Killing Him,” in which our protagonist reaches a breaking point, only to face the grim realization that “killing him didn’t make the love go away.”

Don’t let the cute voice or demure persona fool you: Amy LaVere is up to something. She’s an artist with fierce lyrical gifts, and an ear for melody. Her voice can go from “kitten’s purr” to “banshee’s cry” faster than a speeding bullet. She has an admirable penchant for the dark, strange, neglected, and too-true-to-tell, and a gift for the telling.

Unluckily for her (but luckily for us), time and circumstance cruelly aligned: when she settled in with Craig Silvey (produced the Arcade Fire’s The Suburbs, Grammy-winning Album of the Year), recent loses in love and life had given her fresh material. The stars had crossed and aligned for Amy LaVere to fulfill her destiny: make a truly great break-up album.

Song of the Week: Amy LaVere, “You Can’t Keep Me“

Not since the mid-90′s have I caught myself listening constantly–and almost exclusively– to contemporary female artists. There are new (or fairly recent) releases from pop songbirds (Sara Bareilles, Ingrid Michaelson), soulful singers (Sharon Jones, Janelle Monae, Jill Scott), offbeat rockers (Florence & the Machine, Cults, Sleigh Bells), Americana legends and newcomers (Gillian Welch, Amanda Shires, Caitlin Rose); and chart-topping phenomena (Adele, Lady Gaga). The list is goes on…

Listening to (and culturally placing) this music in a larger context, much of it follows the gross generalities critics abhor and I enjoy. The “best and/or biggest” songs since 2001 roughly fall into one of two categories: escapist or confrontational. For example, “dance your cares away” club anthems (“In Da Club”) vs “cry your cares out” bedroom anthems (“The Scientist”). Songs that run away from reality (“Time To Pretend”) vs those that are overwhelmed by it (“My City Of Ruins”). New extremes in synthetic music (vocal auto-tuning, drum machines, midi instruments) vs resurrected interest in organic music (a neo-Americana revival, an uptick in “live” recording techniques). Songs in the air (or balcony, with bottle service) vs songs on the ground (or under covers, with empty-bottle service). A simple unreality vs a complex hyper-reality. “MP3 people” vs “vinyl people.”

To be clear, I like songs from both sides of that aisle. I love pop music, period–writing it, performing it, listening to it, thinking about it, and talking about it. But the downside to escapist Saturday night anthems is one inescapable and universal fact: sooner or later, it’s Sunday morning. Drink up, but the hangover’s coming.

And the downside to many sober, reflective, Sunday morning anthems is that they’re (almost by definition) passive recipients of cruel outside forces. The light of day reveals our problems in higher relief. We wake up overwrought with emotion and overwhelmed by our environment. We don’t know where to begin. Some songs try to out-think it. Some try to out-cool it. Some indulge in a good cry. But most songs that tackle reality either receive it (“Since U Been Gone,” “Breakable,” “Someone Like You”), define it by negation (“Not Ready To Make Nice,” “When You Need a Train It Never Comes”) or both (“Maps,” “Back To Black”).

All of that’s valid. But in Amy LaVere’s music–especially this album Stranger Me, and this song “You Can’t Keep Me”–there are no passive recipients of a cruel Cupid or the callous Fates. There is no escapist fantasy or cloying melodrama. No cheap thrills. No cries for help.

There are no victims; just different kinds of criminals.

“You Can’t Keep Me” is a ballsy declaration: it’s what would happen if a hostage suddenly began making demands. The song’s foundation–a sturdy, infectious guitar hook–sets an oddly cheerful tone. LaVere’s pitch-perfect vocals (holding steady while the other instruments increase dynamically) balance nonchalance, defiance, humor, and urgency. As upbeat, emphatic drumming punctuates the refrain (“I’m stomping out of here/I hope the dishes rattle”), it sounds fun more than angry. The gorgeous horn counter-melodies (1:45, 2:42) are the icing on the cake, a well-earned catharsis, a sonic equivalent of breaking free into the great wide open. LaVere doesn’t negotiate her freedom–she takes it. From its first note, this song isn’t anticipating brighter days; it’s already celebrating them.

Some songs are easy, and some are hard. Some are empty calories and some are medicine you have to take. Some run away, some curl up in a ball, some play dead, and some hide. But “You Can’t Keep Me” is my favorite kind of song: fun yet substantial. It’s smart without being academic or overwrought. It’s immediately likable but challenging. There are no villains or heroes, only humans. There are no wide-eyed innocents, only adults. There are no victims, only criminals. Small, big, vengeful, reformed, bumbling, resourceful, lazy, hard-working, accountable, deluded, lying, honest, ugly, beautiful, complicated criminals. Like the world around us, Amy LaVere’s music full of them.

Get to know her. Just watch your wallet.

Next week’s SOW will spotlight a track from the new Amy LaVere album (Stranger Me, July 20). I can say this with 99% certainty, because I’ve heard it, and it’s terrific, and I’m excited about it. Barring calamities involving me and my typing fingers, we’ll celebrate that release next week.

In the meantime, let’s celebrate the Black Keys, Robert Johnson, and a new old trend.

Song of the Week: Black Keys, “Remember When (Side B)“

Maybe it’s something, maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s a New Thing, or maybe I’m just now noticing it. But it seems like a lot of bands are putting out two versions of one song. If this is happening more frequently, what accounts for it? And, if artists are controlling (and paying for) their creative process, what’s their reason?

To answer these questions, I dug a little deeper. After exhaustive mental research (read: thinking for ten seconds about which artists in my iTunes have alternate takes of songs), here is my personal history with this phenomenon:

1) Robert Johnson’s collected works have alternate takes of several songs. Because Johnson’s body of work and catalog of recordings was so limited, every cut of every song was deemed important enough for release. If you’re the father of modern blues and you only recorded forty-one tracks, guess what: they’re all for sale.

2) I have an alternate take of “Times They Are A-Changin” by Bob Dylan. I’m not sure how, or why, but I think it was a bonus track on Love & Theft.

3) The Stones included some alternate takes with the re-release package of Exile On Main Street.

4) Radiohead cut two versions of “Morning Bell,” one for Kid A, one for Amnesiac.

4) My Morning Jacket’s “Touch Me I’m Going To Scream” comes in two “parts.” Pts 1 & 2 quasi-bookend Evil Urges.

5) I own two versions of Amy LaVere’s “Washing Machine.” The first was originally released on Anchors & Anvils, the second was dubbed “Reloaded” and re-cut along with other songs.

6) The Black Keys’ “Remember When” Sides A & B are (you guessed it) side-by-side on Attack & Release.

7) Cory Branan’s next album will feature two cuts of the same song, frequently listed on YouTube as “Survivor Blues.” Or so I hear.

And so on. If you’re scoring at home, #1-3 are supplemental songs for past albums by canonical artists. They’re a way to sell more records; more specifically, they cajole a superfan into buying the same album again. Those alternate takes were released more for commercial purposes than artistic purposes, with admitted overlap. (There’s plenty of artistic gold to mine when comparing takes of “Love In Vain Blues.” Pretty sure Greil Marcus once wrote 20,000 words on it.)

But #4-7 were mostly included by artists who were putting an album together at that moment. They made a decision while paying for studio time and conceiving the album as a thematic whole that, yes, two versions of one song was worthwhile.

Listen to “Remember When (Side A)” & “Remember When (Side B)“

How come? And if this is happening more frequently, why?

Financially, it costs less than ever to produce a high quality recording. So, artists are freer to experiment when working out each song.

Artistically, who knows? In Radiohead’s case, the arrangement of each “Morning Bell” matches the overall sound of its respective album. Kid A‘s version is mechanical, even-keeled, deliberately paced; Amnesiac‘s is ethereal, dramatic, breathless. MMJ’s dueling “Touch Me’s” vary slightly, but importantly: Pt 1 asks to be touched, Pt 2 begs not to be. The list goes on.

In both cases–and in every case–we can dream up a million reasons for these alternate takes. They’re fun to think about, and debate, and compare. And maybe that, more than anything else, is the reason for their twin existence.

Which version of “Remember When” do you prefer? For those who know Attack & Release as a whole, how do they work on the album?

I’ll start: I prefer “Side B,” for myriad reasons. Rather than outlining them academically, allow me to summarize and move on: it effing rocks. But that’s just me.

As for the second question, the album’s first half (which ends with “Remember When (Side A)”) seems to deal with the ways lovers mistreat each other. It outlines lies, betrayal, deceit, destructive behavior, etc. It’s frenetic and rocking. “Side A” closes this half as a subdued, bruised, and battered reflection on what’s happened, and what used to be. The album’s second half is more about the fallout. It’s slower, reflective, vulnerable, and disarmed. “Side B” kick-starts it with a high-energy assault. In other words, both versions of the song provide a counterpoint to their half of the album. “Side A” is a somber meditation after a whirlwind of activity; “Side B” is a whirlwind of activity that precedes a somber reflection.

What do y’all think? Let me hear it…

This month, I talked with Memphis-based rapper Cities Aviv. He’s a gifted hip hop artist whose latest album–Digital Lows–has been getting buzz in Spin and Pitchfork.

So please, hop on over to TVD and enjoy Another Cup with Cities Aviv!

(Note: To read all the past Another Cups of Coffee, click here. You can stay updated on all my blog posts, here and elsewhere, by subscribing to the blog or bookmarking this page.

Also, if you?d like to subscribe to TVD Memphis, click here.)

Rockus Maximus

Late Wednesday night, I was hanging out at Neil’s. Neil’s is a bar and music venue in midtown Memphis where I sometimes play on Wednesdays. Anyway, I was at Neil’s with my brother and our friend Will, waiting to hit the stage. We were talking about macroeconomics, or Proust, or fantasy football when The Who’s “Squeeze Box” came on Neil’s crusty ole jukebox.

And though I like “Squeeze Box,” it only made me crave another song.

Song of the Week, The Who “Pinball Wizard“

I’ve always loved “Pinball Wizard’s” beginning, before Daltrey begins singing (0:32). In terms of sheer stage-setting, pulse-quickening, adrenaline-prepping, kickstarting energy, it’s peerless. It’s not just a badass intro; it’s practically the blueprint for badass intros. Townshend’s electric fill (0:24) over rapid acoustic strumming has been copped, stolen, acknowledged, referenced, and lovingly borrowed countless times. Here’s one. Also, the minor-chord walk-down to the actual key is another advent; with every descending chord, the listener feels like they’re falling further into some dark unknown, waiting for bottom. Just about everyone (Pearl Jam here and here) has adopted this device.

Technique and influence aside, just listen to it. It’s thrilling. It’s brooding, simple, stark, effortlessly suspenseful. It demands attention. There’s no way to hear those opening thirty seconds and not be excited for whatever comes next.

And there’s the rub. What comes next (the rollicking, unironic tale of a deaf-and-blind pinball prodigy who’s kinda Jesus-ish) isn’t as good as what comes before. To be fair, almost anything would feel anti-climactic after that introduction. But the intro should set the stage for the actual song, not upstage it. “Pinball Wizard” is like a novel that peaks in its prologue.

If that sounds harsh, I want to clarify two points:

1)I love The Who. I LOVE The Who. They’re in my personal all-time Top 12, they’re indisputably pop’s greater Pantheon, and I will bullwhip anyone who claims otherwise. I love “Pinball Wizard” in its entirety, awkward allegories and all. While I don’t to relate to every aspect of The Who’s rock operas, the songs themselves influenced similarly operatic work from Radiohead, Pearl Jam, and Green Day that I do relate to. In that way, The Who occupies rarefied air: I even love the songs I don’t want to listen to. Their existence matters.

2) I’m pretty sure The Who knew they couldn’t top the intro. Why do you think they revisit it (2:15)?

Anyway, The Pinball Wizard Problem sparked a discussion/debate at Neil’s: what other songs don’t fulfill the promise of their introduction?

Here are a few more, off the top of my head. Feel free to add yours in the comments.

–Band of Horses, “Islands On the Coast“

–The Hold Steady, “Sequestered In Memphis“

–Kings of Leon, “Slow Night So Long” (slightly)

–Led Zeppelin, “The Song Remains the Same“

–My Morning Jacket, “Evil Urges“

–Nirvana, “Scentless Apprentice“

–The Raconteurs, “Intimate Secretary“

–Radiohead, “National Anthem” (Note: Kind of. The vocal melody underwhelms, but everything else is extraordinary.)

–Rolling Stones, “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” (It’s all great, but most of the magic’s in the first 100 seconds. Honestly, I get bored halfway through.)

–And, finally, the immortal Jet. “Are You Gonna Be My Girl“

Bonus Pick! What about the opposite of the Pinball Wizard Problem? What about when a song’s ending totally pays off the rest of the song’s debt? We’ll call this the “Thunder Road Corollary,” in honor of Springsteen’s “Thunder Road,” which (to me) relentlessly wastes time and tests patience until the awesome catharsis of its says-it-all-without-saying-a-thing coda (3:49).

Can y’all think of any more?