Spitball Army

This is a tape that reflected the pushmi-pullyu part of my brain that, at the time, couldn’t decide if it was into songwriters, oldies, classical or blues. That’s pretty representative of my brain all of the time. What ended up was a mix tape that tried to make a case for all of those styles – and some others – co-existing together in one place. Sometimes it works.

I was discovering and devouring Rory Block albums around this time. Tornado had just come out and I was spinning it repeatedly. Listening to these songs today, I cringe a little at the theatrical over-emoting in her vocals. But there is a warmth and rhythmic seduction in the music that is, well, seductive. It wasn’t until later that I learned of the tragic death of Block’s teenaged son prior to these recordings. In that light, the songs all seemed to make sense. Block’s lyrics seem to be pleading with a higher power from a lost and painful place (“Faithless World,” “Never Called Your Name,” “Walk in Jerusalem”). “You Didn’t Mind,” from Tornado, fits within that mold, and could be addressed to either a person or a spirit.

[audio:Rory_Block___You_Didnt_Mind.mp3]
“You Didn’t Mind” (1996) by Rory Block

I am struck by how many of these recordings were taken from CDs that I no longer possess. Waldemar Bastos, John Trudell, Michael Fracasso, Don White.

The hilarious Don White track, “Psycho Mom and Dad,” was from an album entitled Live at the Somerville Theatre, and contained a reference to Ram Dass that had the Massachusetts audience in stitches. There could hardly be another place where a white folk singer could get a crowd to laugh so loudly at such a reference than in New England. Turns out that Ram Dass had the birth name of Richard Alpert, and was a contemporary of Timothy Leary while they were both on faculty in the departments of Psychology and Social Relations at Harvard.  Fun fact: Leary introduced Alpert to hallucinogenic Mexican mushrooms. [I imagine that my parents would not have allowed me to work and eventually major in that department if they had known about these notorious faculty members, but they didn’t know it at the time, and neither did I.] There is an abbreviated wealth of basic information about Ram Dass at the Wikipedia site. On their recommendation, I just queued up the documentary film Ram Dass: Fierce Grace on Netflix, and put it at the top of my queue.  And if a little switch just turned on in your head: yes, the mysterious and ageless character in the TV show Lost, who very possibly could be “running the show,” is named Richard Alpert.  I imagine that we’ll soon find out about another connection between him (the character) and the Dharma Initiative (one definition of dharma: the principle that orders the universe).  It just makes, um, cosmic sense.

Speaking of college, one of my earliest college friends, Beverly Lyte from the Bronx, introduced me to the music of Candi Staton, whose “Young Hearts Run Free” is on this tape. That introduction took place more than 15 years before this mix tape was made. Ten years after this mix tape was made, I was completely immersed in Ms. Staton’s comeback album, His Hands. It is a soul classic, and one of my favorite albums ever. That woman can sing a Charlie Rich song like nobody’s business.  Anyway, the 33-year-old “Young Hearts Run Free” is now considered an iconic track from the disco era and there is probably a multitude of remixes and extended versions in circulation.  The original version is good enough for me – a heartfelt song with a terrific vocal.

[audio:Candi_Staton___Young_Hearts_Run_Free.mp3]
“Young Hearts Run Free” (1976) by Candi Staton

Little Village was a one-off “super group” with Ry Cooder, Nick Lowe, John Hiatt and Jim Keltner as members.  They shared songwriting and singing duties and, from the sound of it, had a blast creating their one self-titled album.  I am guessing that they met while recording John Hiatt’s seminal Bring the Family, as these four comprised the band for that 1987 record.  I don’t know how I chose “Don’t Go Away Mad” for this mix tape, as practically every song from Little Village is groovy and fun.

[audio:Little_Village___Dont_Go_Away_Mad.mp3]
“Don’t Go Away Mad” (1992) by Little Village

I was attracted to a Chandos CD entitled Auld Scottish Songs because it contained some Beethoven arrangements of folk songs researched by Robert Burns.  I love Beethoven.  The CD ended up getting quite a bit of play at the time, and was in regular rotation with the Anna Magdalena Notebook in my little rented study on 8th Terrace South in Crestwood.  One of my favorite tracks from the Burns CD was – and is – “For the Sake o’ Somebody:”

[audio:Scottish_Early_Music_Consort___For_the_Sake_o_Somebody.mp3]
“For the Sake o’ Somebody” (1988) by The Scottish Early Music Consort

My heart is sore – I dare not tell –
My heart is sore for Somebody;
I could wake a winter night
For the sake o’ Somebody.
O-hon! for Somebody!
O-hey! for Somebody!
I could range the world around,
For the sake o’ Somebody.

Ye Powers that smile on virtuous love,
O, sweetly smile on Somebody!
From every danger keep him free,
And send me safe my Somebody!
O-hon! for Somebody!
O-hey! for Somebody!
I would do – what would I not?
For the sake o’ Somebody.

Funny, though, this arrangement was by Johann Nepomuk Hummel, not Beethoven.  For the needs which he cannot fulfill, Beethoven leads us there, as well (poet…don’t know it…feet show it…long fellows!).