Aretha Franklin's "Precious Memories"

I left Catholicism behind when I was 18. The schism first occurred, though, just as I was starting that sacrament known as penance, which I recall happening around 3rd grade, or 9 years old. So, let me get this straight, I thought, I go into this mysterious dark booth, kneel down and confess my sins – pretty much consisting of disobeying my parents, being mean to my siblings, and, slightly later, onanism, oh the ongoing onanism! And this priest, who was usually identifiable as one of the rasping and raging red-faced alcoholics who taught C.C.D., the religious education classes. And this guy, this sad old man was supposed to communicate with God and absolve me of my sins. Yeah, this is about the time when logic entered the equation and I started to question the whole deal.

But a lot of the reason I drifted was that it just bored me to death, sitting in that nice big neo-Gothic church of my childhood. The best part of the mass was my daydreaming, glancing around at the architecture, observing the congregation, particularly the younger and hotter female portion, and the pipe organ music. The music could, on very rare occasions, offer a little inspiration. But let’s face it; the Catholic Church was already a faded version of its historic self. In the past centuries it inspired the Masters in painting, architecture, and music. Had it retained some of that enigmatic glory, perhaps if the mass was still mysteriously said in Latin, I might have at least suspended my disbelief for a while longer. But they started their weak attempts at bring the mass down to the people, with lame folk-music masses and it only pushed me out the door faster, all that mustachioed earnest strummy monotony against the macramé’d felt-Advent-banner-background. This was a long way from Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring”, (or for that matter, my favorite Bach piece “So Sheep May Safely Graze”) or the Sistine Chapel.

If anything, I looked for reasons to keep me away from the dispiriting Church and did not have to look far for scientific and logical support for my rationale. People can become straight-up rational and atheistic and still find their artistic mojo. In fact, there is an interesting article in a recent New Yorker about the author Ian McEwan’s arc from a young man who accommodated new-age-y philosophy into an older accomplished author who finds inspiration in more earthly sources and less tolerant of mystical strains. Not many would consider McEwan’s work cold or uninspiring.

I like to leave all doors open, however and would consider myself, therefore, agnostic. As an artist, there is something otherworldly in moments of ecstatic music and art – whether it be intentionally devotional (raga, chanting, gospel, Sufi dervishes, etc.) or not. Just because soul music is the secular sibling of gospel music does not mean that it has taken the spirit out; the spirit is in the music and performance itself, not in the lyrics.

My wife and I went to see Reverend Al Green conduct his Sunday service in Memphis during the mid-1990s. He sang almost the whole time, pausing only briefly to warmly welcome the handful of us that were outsiders before letting himself be transported again by the amazing and powerful music. The church itself is a modest sort of mid-century building on the outskirts of town. He had this stellar band that included a Hammond organ player with two loud Leslie speakers flanking the stage. We were there for over two hours, during which he shook our hands, introduced us to the congregation, sang and sweat his heart out, while his congregants sang, danced, prayed, and even did the whole “speaking in tongues” ecstasy thing while ushers attended to them. I felt simultaneously drained and lifted up when we left. In fact, the service was still ongoing when we had to leave. I said to my wife, “if this was church when I was growing up, I would never have questioned a thing and would be there right now.” I think I might have touched the face of God that day. I’m sure there is a biological explanation for all of this, but I don’t need to know what it is; it is not relevant.

I was thinking of this all today while I was walking into work and “Precious Memories” came on my ipod. This is the version that Aretha Franklin and James Cleveland sing on the 1972 live album, Amazing Grace. The recording always almost brings me to my knees, specifically around 3:25 minutes in. This is the first of two climaxes on the recording when I feel privileged that was someone -- Jerry Wexler is the producer, of course -- was there to record the holy moment. Because that is exactly what it is. Aretha seems to be channeling the Holy Spirit here. Without exaggeration, every time I listen to this, every time, whether it be the first time in months that I am listening to it or the fourth time in a row, I am physically affected. It goes beyond shivers down the spine; it is an overwhelming experience, emotional and physical, that I can barely contain. It is literally almost orgasmic. I could only imagine what sort of freakin’ weirdo I look like walking down a bike path with my face all contorted with anguished emotion.

(Listen here)

“Precious Memories” is a traditional that gets to the heart of it, as Van Morrison sings in his own rhapsodic moments. Over a sublimely gentle ¾ pace, Aretha hums low in a call-and-answer with the Southern California Community Choir starts the lyric:

Precious memories, how they linger
How they ever flood my soul

And the soul of the listener starts to flood as Aretha adds a wordless riff.

In the stillness of the midnight
Sacred secrets will unfold.

And this is the whole thing: the sacred secrets are unfolding just as the arrangement does. The gathered live congregation of the New Temple Missionary Baptist Church in Los Angeles are all aware that this calm is fleeting; the ecstasy is building. Aretha, off microphone, cues Cleveland with the first line of the next verse, “In sad hours,” and the rich husky baritone of Cleveland picks it up:

In sad hours (Aretha: Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord)
When I get a little lonely (yeah, yeah, yeah)
The truth, the real truth, the real truth of Jesus’ (thank you, Lord) (Aretha: say it, James) Love is told, oh yeah oh yes it is

The congregation and the choir are now clapping on the 2 and 3 of the waltz beat. It is building. And then it hits.

Mmmm, Jesus (they repeat His name 6 times between them) whispers

(The choir hits with a loud “yeahhhh,” which Aretha picks up’
“Yeaaaaaahhhhh I’ll be with you.” (Cleveland exclaims off mic, “SAY IT!” which sounds like he slammed his finger in a car door -- the agony and the ecstasy.)

And the arrangement stars to wind down from this first climax, only to have Aretha sing, “You know he will. We oughta sing that one more time, James.”

And they bring it back to a seemingly impossible second crescendo. “Every, every, every, every now and then you’re gonna get a little lonely.” And now Aretha just tosses words out the door and it is pure singing, one “Jesus” is all she says riffs to “Child, I’ll be. With. A’you,” pausing rhythmically between those words.

And the arrangement simmers down, the choir and congregation, who have witnessed similar moments, nevertheless sound as stunned to semi-silence as we feel as listeners. Where they were shouting, beseeching, encouraging, clapping, singing along during the song, by the end, they sound drained, offering relatively modest applause that comes nowhere near appropriate for what might be one of the greatest soul-unloading, cathartic performances captured on record.

You can hear why every rock & roll and pop star poser like Michael Bolton and Celine Dion haul out a gospel choir for some TV appearance or another; the power of a great gospel choir is undeniable. What such performers miss, however, is the force and depth of Aretha and James Cleveland, a force and depth to match that of a choir, to stand to-to-toe with and compliment a choir. Aretha’s recording here builds an arrangement that is like the architecture of the great Gothic cathedrals of Europe. At the start, the choir’s voice lift like arches up to the heavens, Aretha weaves her voice in and the choir dips. The, rhythm encourages the stop-start gait associated with a slow-moving ceremonial procession toward the front of the church, the altar. This holy music, like the great architecture, aspires to capture the spirit, the very essence – not the specifics – of the faith of the participants. They could be singing about Krishna, Jesus, or Allah, it doesn’t matter. What they are communicating is the passion in their souls. It’s enough to make you want to go to church.

Elvis and Nick at WBCN 1978

Talkin' 'bout my alma mater. In fact, I saw Elvis solo at UMass in 1983 or '84. He was fantastic.

Mick Ronson

One of my all-time fave guitar solos. My reaction when listening to it can be seen mirrored by the girl in the audience at about 1:36, even if Mick looks a little Nigel Tufnel in his own expressions.

Toad in February

Hello kids,

Toad on Saturday nights in February is the place to be and don't let no one tell you nothing else. Thursdays are tough for those of us with kids and/or jobs. I understand. We moved the residency to Saturdays for you. How about that?

Cathy Piantigini wrote a fantastic piece on those Thursdays of yore, last June to be precise. You can find it here.

T-Shirts on the Way for the February Toad Shows

A nice guy named Thomas has a sports apparel company and has offered to make some t-shirts using Stephen Dowling's picture that makes it seem that I rock the stadiums and the coliseums. He might do some fulfillment of mail orders, but we have not gotten that far yet. I think we'll start with 100 for the shows. But if we get a lot of orders, we will make more. Keep your eye on this post and I will edit with more information as it becomes available.

Hot Stove Cool Music

This has to be my 25th year with this event. Honestly, I lost count. It is natural to feel like it is getting old, stale, and for the participants to be less excited as the years go by. And I can only speak for myself, but this is sometimes the ennui-like winter feeling that sets in each December/January. Part of it is the post-holiday exhaustion and typical winter darkness. But it is precisely that inertia and negativity that we must battle in life. And Hot Stove Cool Music proves year upon year to be the unexpected reward for getting my ass out of the house, meet and chat via emails and phone calls with the main organizers, and rehearse the various segments of which I am part. Just when you think it is time to move on, we end up getting down to the Paradise, seeing old friends, playing great music, brushing elbows with young Red Sox stars on their way up (see me and Wild Thing Papelbon, above) and I end up having one of the greatest times, not just of the winter, but of the year. Get your tickets now. Raise money for a great Boston charity event.

Poster by Gary Greenberg

The Amazingly Talented Mr. Dowling

I am tweaking the look of the page. Thanks in great part to our friend Steve Dowling, a kiwi by birth and temperament, and a Londoner by edict and mayoral proclamation, who has been coming to soundchecks and shows for years and taking great photos. The one I am using as the top shot is from the Netherlands in 2007, just about a year ago. He's a good guy to have on the road, as he is skilled at breaking up fistfights, paying off the local constabulary, and serving out local brews. Links to his page are on the right. Here are some other good ones.












See the link to his page in the links section on the right. From his site, you can also explore his Flickr site, which has many compelling pictures of Buff Tom and bands such as Iron and Wine, Calexico and more.

Nice Mention in Today's Boston Globe

Nice mention of this page (have any alternatives for the word "blog" come to the fore?) here in the Globe today. Thanks to the fabulous Sarah Rodman, whom I believe I last saw roaming the streets of Austin Texas in 2006. Say it ain't so, Sarah!

NY Times Piece on Music and Marketing

Interesting article on music in marketing by Jon Pareles in today's Times. Nothing groundbreaking; even Jon seems unable to offer anything conclusive.

Magnet Magazine Mention

Nice to see some other sites picking up on the Cover of the Week project. Bradley's Almanac had an early post about it. Magnet Magazine takes notice here.

Juliana Hatfield Responds to Post

If I had a dollar for every time a girl/woman told me it's not me it's her...

Our friend from way back, Juliana, graciously offers her version/explanation of the events described in my Dreaming post.

Bill, it's not you; it's me. Don't take it personally that I said I would sing on "Dreaming" and then I took off. You see, I suffer from a sometimes crippling disorder called "Rock Club-itis". It is a phobia; a fear of being in any rock club for even one second longer than I absolutely have to, in order to do my work.

Like an alcoholic develops a sick liver after years of tippling, a touring indie musician can develop an intensely strong physical aversion to being in rock clubs. A drunk is affected, over time, by too many drinks, too many hangovers; I have been damaged by too many hours hanging out in the darkness, sitting on too many dirty, beer-stained, puke-scented couches in cramped, freezing-cold and stifling-hot backstage kennels. I guess you could call this affliction a kind of post-traumatic stress disorder. Or post-rock stress disorder. PRSD. The inevitable result of all my years on the club circuit; years of forced exposure (work; touring) to that stifling, harsh (everything always so LOUD! Too loud! Hurts my ears!), unsanitary and uncomfortable environment. (I won't even get into how a gig schedule screws up one's circadian rhythms.)

This is how bad it is: When I'm walking down a street and I spot rock club in the distance, I get queasy and nail-bitey and I have to cross the street in order to avoid passing too closely to the venue lest my growing anxiety (proportionate to how close I am to the club) overwhelm me and, like, throw me into a fit of hysterics or something.

And that is my explanation for bailing before you guys played "Dreaming". I wanted to sing with you, I really did, but as I stood waiting for the song to come up in your set list, I started to feel that old familiar nauseous/frightened feeling and the flashbacks started happening and the walls started closing in on me and I knew then that I had to flee the venue, for sanity's sake. I had hoped that I could stick it out until "Dreaming" rolled around but I failed. I failed you, Buffalo Tom, and I failed myself. I am weak.

Plus, I am really shy. Jumping up on stage with a band during their show always SOUNDS like a good idea in theory, but when showtime rolls around and my guest appearance looms, I sometimes chicken out. I can't speak for Westerberg, but maybe he experienced something similar.

Oh, and FYI- I did actually play guitar in the first incarnation of the Blake Babies; you were correct about that. We were originally a quartet, with Seth White on bass, myself on rhythm guitar, and John Strohm on lead (Freda on drums). I later switched to bass, when Seth quit the band. From then on, the Blake Babies were known as a trio.

Regretfully,

Juliana Hatfield

Another, Younger Janovitz

This is my brother, Tom. I was 16 when he was born. That makes him, lemme see...12.

Lovely voice, lovely guitar. Sort of Ry Cooder meets John Fahey.

Congratulations Bandini, Low Anthem, Ed V., Billy B and so many others.....

I want to say, hey, congratulations to my brother, Scott, and his band, the Great Bandini, for winning best local song, "One and One." Also, I recall loving Wait Until Spring, Bandini, from John Fante, back when I read it close to 20 years back.

Also, I have to say you should check out The Low Anthem, who won best new act. I picked up their record, What the Crow Brings, which is delicious. But I really look forward to the new collection, which can be previewed at their myspace: very pretty songs. This is especially recommended for people that liked the Show People CD from Chris Toppin, me, Phil, Dean, Paul, Mike, et. al. But if you like Waits, Dylan, the new kids with all that string band stuff, etc., I think you might like some of their songs a great deal.


http://www.lowanthem.com

http://www.myspace.com/lowanthem

Are You Excited for the Faces Reunion?

Further on Kenney Jones