Thursday, December 8, 2011

4 Reasons Why I Don't Like Rolling Stone's "Greatest Guitarists" List


I like lists. Heck, I even love lists. I love seeing people and things and places ranked just as much as the next person. That said, I have never liked Rolling Stone’s “100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time.” I dislike the list for a few reasons. You should be aware that from here on out I field only complaints—some nuggets of compliment to the insight of RS writers and editors—but mostly complaint. My response, fittingly, takes on the form of a list.

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1. There are no guidelines

“Greatest” is a loaded word. Standing alone, as it does in so many supposedly “critical” contexts, it doesn’t mean anything. “Favorite” or “influential” or “best-selling” all connote specific guiding principles, although some are more obscure or difficult to parse through than others. It would not be a problem if RS phrased the list as their “favorite” guitarists; that would imply a subjective measurement with which readers/writers (like me!) cannot literally contest. The list would become an exercise in taste, which is fine with me, because so much of RS (music/film/culture reviews) is premised upon their opinions being better informed, better researched, better observed than those of the rest of the world.

But they don’t phrase the list in such a way. Instead, as I’ve already harped on, they claim it as a list of the “greatest” guitarists. Given the placement of so many key early blues and rock figures, the notion of “influence” weighs heavily on the whole affair. The way they explain the list (at least on the RS website) is that they gathered “a panel of top guitarists and other experts to rank their favorites and explain what separates the legends from everyone else” (Rollingstone.com). But was that the only guideline they provided these voters? I assume—perhaps incorrectly—that this group of mostly guitarists was not assembled into a single space in which they carried out this grand debate. Rather, I would think that each participant (besides contributing RS editors, who probably had a more inside understanding on the project) had his or her own differing set of valuations.

So what are we left with? Are we left with a collection of “favorites” that somehow translates into “greatest” by virtue of the participants? Are we trying to create a canon of guitarists? If that is the intention, then I doubt there is much scholarly sensibility at work. In part, those who actively participate in the art form create the canon, but readers and scholars also help formulate the canon. Hemingway (and those who studied him) was fond of pointing to Sherwood Anderson’s short story cycle Winesburg, Ohio as a formative experience in terms of his writing. But is Winesburg, Ohio part of the short story canon the same way that Hemingway or Flannery O’Connor are? I don’t doubt that Anderson’s work has a place in an extended vision of the American literature canon, but I don’t think one would comfortably posit his work sitting next to the like of “Big Two-Hearted River.”

I would offer that RS either clarify the guidelines of the list or introduce far more input from critics and writers to offset the literal monopoly that guitarists have on the list. They might even go so far as to reshape the list into two separate parts similar to how Sight & Sound conducts their “greatest” (another problematically titled list) films list—breaking it into the list from directors and the list from critics.

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2. Why is John Lennon on the list?

I don’t offer this quite as a complaint, but rather as an annoying feature. Some of the folks on this list are givens; if Hendrix had not been at the top of the list, there would have been a violent backlash. But there are other contributions that seem like merely pandering either directly to the stars themselves or their legacies. I’ll rag on Lennon because it is the most glaring error in the list.

Even RS has some trouble justifying Lennon’s presence. Lennon’s musical chops are decidedly thin: he was merely capable on guitar and piano, but he had a brilliant voice and an otherworldly knack for writing music. Lennon’s inclusion raises the question of whether or not he would have been included in the list had he not been both a member of The Beatles and a successful solo artist in his own right. I apologize if that seems like a dumb point, but I think it’s a point worth making. Would, for instance, Lennon have been brought into the studio to lay down a rhythm guitar track? It might even be worth comparing him to Ry Cooder (another guitarist on the list at #31 compared to Lennon’s #55), who is actually someone who might have been pulled into the studio for a rhythm guitar track.

My complaint raises the question of whether or not we can ever truly separate a songwriter from his guitar work (or, for that matter, his work on any other instrument). In the case of other guitarists on this list—say, separating Angus Young from his riffs in “Back In Black”—I think that would be a contentious claim. But is “often adding rawness to pristine pop songs” deserving of #55 in the “top 100 greatest guitarists”? I think not…

3. What are we supposed to make of the changes?

RS published a list in the same spirit in 2003. In some sense, we aren’t supposed the make anything of the differences between the two lists. As I pointed out above, the more recent list was composed of guitarists selected by a diverse group of people. On the other hand, one of the RS senior editors, David Fricke, compiled the 2003 list.

But that doesn’t make the changes any easier to parse through; Fricke is a smart man and makes smart choices, especially in terms of influence, that a guitarist might as well have made. But he also provides choices that reveal a critical voice—something that seems largely absent in the recent list. For instance, renowned Malian musician Ali Farka Touré and English folkie Bert Jansch make appearances on Fricke’s list, but go without mention in the newest list. There are curious movements with the new list as well: why, for instance, does Duane Allman slide from #2 down to #9? Why does Eddie Van Halen jump from #70 to #8? Gilmour up to #14 from #82? Why does Prince appear at #33?! He’s nowhere on the first list!

4. What kind of music are we talking about?

I broached this when I expressed admiration for Fricke’s inclusion of Touré and Jansch…exactly what kind of music are we dealing with when we say “greatest guitarist of all time”? Does RS place implicit limitations on which styles of music they choose to include? The obvious answer is yes—of course they do. They focus on rock music, often straying into the blues. But folk music is largely absent in both lists, along with classical music and, more generally, world music.

Next time around, I can only hope that RS considers the matter more closely…and maybe takes some cues from the Sight & Sound poll.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Saturday Songs - Dec. 3


1. “Arrowhead” – Richard Shindell



Shindell is a master songwriter of character sketches; from illegal immigrants to long-haul truckers, Shindell reaches far and wide for his inspiration. “Arrowhead” tells the plaintive story of a drummer boy in the Confederate forces during the Civil War, who is too young to fight, but not too young to be up at the front lines. The live version of this song released on Shindell’s album Courier is a real treat—providing some serious galloping drums to the mix. But this acoustic performance above captures the spirit of the song equally well.

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2. “Kingdom Come” – Mark Erelli



On the surface, this song sounds sweet, but underneath the surface, this is a dark look at a dangerous world. The opening lines establish that much:

The wasp she lays an egg
‘neath a caterpillar's skin.
It hatches and the larva grows,
feasting from within
It kills the host then off it goes
to sting another one.

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3. “Someday House” – Greg Brown

Someday House

Tipped off to Greg Brown by a YouTube video featuring Jeff Bridges (he was listing Top 5 musicians everyone should listen to and I, of course, was on the prowl for a Townes Van Zandt reference, given the presence of “If I Needed You” in one of the emotional montages in the Bridges’s Best Actor vehicle Crazy Heart), I went straight onto Spotify and looked him up.

His deep, dark baritone may present a problem for some listeners, but the voice—verging on Tom Waits—probably couldn’t any more accurately reflect the quirky characters Brown sketches in his songs. In this song, you can practically hear him smiling as he sings:

I don’t mind doing laundry
if you’ll help me fold
looks like bright sunshine
well, let’s hang ‘em out on the line
and it starts to rain again.

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4. “Say It Anyway” – Rosi Golan



Just recently, I sat down to listen to Golan’s second album, which I’ve been anticipating for some time now, after having seen her in concert as she toured her 2008 debut album The Drifter & The Gypsy, an album with several excellent cuts, including “Think Of Me” and “Come Around.” This album did not disappoint; there are, again, several excellent compositions. I admit there are a handful of weaker songs, but, all in all, it’s an impressive sophomore album. “Say It Anyway” has less flair than some of the other tracks, wisely choosing to focus on Golan’s excellent voice.

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5. “Meeden Station” – The Bowmans


ComScore

A twin sister folk act hailing from Iowa, the Bowman women craft a neat sound on this simple song—a portrait of a railway station. While the recording itself could stand some improvement, the sisterly harmony still shines through.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

The Descendants Review: The Morals Of A King


The miracle of The Descendants, the new Hawaii-based Alexander Payne film starring George Clooney, is that it holds itself together while dashing through the twists and turns of its plot. There is a comatose, dying wife and her mourning husband—two daughters struggling with separate problems of growing older—the realization that the dying wife had been unfaithful with a local realtor—a father who is kept (and keeps himself) from confronting the wildness of his favorite child. And that’s not even covering most of it. Payne and his ace cast handle all of these developments with great care and subtlety, appearing effortless in the execution.

But the overarching plot issue is the one that Payne et al handle best. For those entirely unfamiliar with the film, the film focuses on Matt King (Clooney), who must deal not only with his dying wife Elizabeth (Patricia Hastie) and his troublesome daughters, but also with his role as the trustee of a 25,000-acre spread of land on the Hawaiian island of Kaua’i. King and his family are the descendants of missionaries and native royalty, which pedigree entrusted them the land and the trust expires in seven years’ time. King and most of the extended family wants to sell the land to a developer, which will bring in millions of dollars into the family. There are a few relatives who oppose the sale, but Payne’s film doesn’t give them much screen time.

I cite this plot element as overarching because it winds in and out of the film, appearing largely at the beginning and the end. King’s dying wife and his deteriorating personal life quickly take center stage once he learns that his wife had been cheating on him prior to her fatal boating accident. King and his elder daughter Alexandra (Shailene Woodley) take on the task of investigating and finally confronting Elizabeth’s hapless lover. As separate as the issues of land and King’s wife may have been up to that point, the melodramatic fates cast them into allegiance with one another; King learns that the realtor his wife had been seeing is the same man who would end up receiving the commissions on the 25,000 acres, should it be sold to this developer.

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With regard to the land, King makes the decision the audience already knew he would make: the land stays in the hands of the family. We have to thank that expectation the brief conversation between King and his two daughters in the middle of the film as they survey the entrusted land. After Alexandra mentions how she used to go camping with her mother on the entrusted land, Scottie (Amara Miller) disdainfully points out that, young as she is, she hasn’t had the chance (and implicitly will never have the chance) to camp on the land as Alexandra did. As dominated by the notion of inter-generational conflict as the environmental movement is today (let’s not ruin this planet for our children! [and our children’s children!]), I think anyone could have predicted the ultimate outcome.

The moral complexity of the film arises from how King makes his decision after having learning about the involvement of his late wife’s lover in the development deal. While I ultimately come down on the side of King’s decision regarding land (the development of land for recreational/resort uses is not the same case as mining the same pristine landscape for a necessary mineral such as copper; see John McPhee’s excellent and excellently objective book Encounters with the Archdruid for more on these matters) I cannot help but feel a distaste for his final decision. Amidst the triumphant environmentalist feeling in the wake of that scene, there is a lingering dissonance. Is something still right even if done for the wrong reasons? Would King have arrived at the same decision without the knowledge of that particular realtor’s involvement in the plans?

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I must conclude by offering that the film, while quite impressive, had one glaring flaw, which was King’s overbearing voiceover narration that opens the film. The narration serves as an effective, if entirely clumsy, method of grounding the audience with plot details. This, I think, is in contrast to the rest of the film, which tackles scenes with an earnest energy and expects the audience to follow along. As much as I don’t like screenwriting guru Robert McKee’s dictum that voiceovers should never be used—famously parodied in Spike Jonze’s Adaptation—I think it applies to this film. The voiceover in The Descendants is a writer being lazy; I expect better work from the screenwriting team of Payne, Nat Faxon, and Jim Rash, who did such a bang-up job on the rest of the film.

Also, perhaps some of you think that I have “spoiled” the film by letting you in on the ending. That, I think, would be a grievous underestimation of this film. As much as I have made of the plot, that is not where the film derives its power. The power is in the close writing of the scenes and the earthy, believable characters brought to life in a series of awkward, unfortunate moments. But those moments lead somewhere wonderful: the final scene provides the most heartwarming episode of domestic harmony I’ve seen in quite some time. Look forward to it.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Saturday Songs – Nov. 26


Posting them late again! Apologies – Taylor

1. “I Just Can’t Take It Anymore” – The Lemonheads



A lost Gram Parsons tune, Evan Dando and The Lemonheads resurrect both this song and themselves on their 2006 covers album Varshons. Sure, it’s a covers album and it doesn’t exactly demonstrate a return to form, but it is, at the very least, a demonstration of Dando’s esoteric music taste and sense of craft. From country troubadour Townes Van Zandt to “post-punk” band Wire, Dando is all across the board. The song probably truest to the sound of The Lemonheads (circa It’s A Shame About Ray), however, is Dando’s take on this country lope by the grandfather of country rock.

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2. “Moving Pictures Silent Films” – Great Lake Swimmers



Just as there are certain concepts in a film that one almost likes more than the film itself—for instance, the concept of Louis Malle’s 1981 film My Dinner With Andre—I like the concept of Great Lake Swimmers’ self-titled debut album almost more the album itself. While we’re stuck on slow-moving folk music, I think it’s worth looking to Bon Iver’s rise to fame. Vernon’s real claim to fame—both in the music press as well as in personal conversations—was his winter say in a Wisconsin cabin. Everyone adored that idea: Vernon, broken up with his girlfriend and his band, moping away in a lonely corner of the woods, writing songs to make himself feel better.

Thinking in terms of these album concepts, this debut album from Great Lake Swimmers is almost better. The tragedy of For Emma, Forever Ago is that we can’t actually hear those months out in the woods on the tape itself. The album is full of haunting, sad sounds, but there is nothing overtly “woodsy” or “natural” about it. On the other hand, “Moving Pictures Silent Films,” the first track on Great Lake Swimmers, starts out with woodsy hiss and the chirping of crickets.

The entire album was recorded in an abandoned grain silo in southern Ontario over the course of several months. So, the reverberant threads of vocal, guitar, bass, piano, and percussion, bouncing eerily off the walls of the silo are drawn over that foundational layer of natural white noise. That, Justin Vernon, is “woodsy” for you!

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3. “God Is God” – Steve Earle



As far as I’m concerned, Steve Earle’s most recent album, I’ll Never Make It Out Of This World Alive, is fantastic throughout. But as some of you may know, I’ve got a soft spot for songs reflecting seriously on God and God’s relation to man. Naturally, questions of a religious, philosophical nature + Steve Earle = one helluva song. Earle, with this song, begins to approach the stature of some of Townes’s more elaborate, labyrinthine songs (such as “Only Him Or Me”).

I love some of the phrases Earle concots in this song, especially:

And as our fate unfurls,
Every day that passes I’m sure about a little bit less.
Even my money keeps telling me it’s God I need to trust.
And I believe in God, but God ain’t us.

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4. “Las transeuntes” – Jorge Drexler



Still on my binge of Spanish-language music, I’ve stumbled upon Jorge Drexler, who’s probably a familiar name for Oscar buffs out here, having garnered an Oscar for Best Original Song, thanks to his contribution “Al otro lado del río” to the soundtrack of The Motorcycle Diaries. Outside of the United States, however, Drexler is a big deal as a songwriter. “Las transeuntes” is a fine example of Drexler’s craft—not only of his songwriting, but also of his ability as a performer. “Las transeuntes,” along with the rest of the songs on his recent album Amar la trama, was recorded live in front of a small audience in a recording studio, lending it an earthy, warm sound.

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5. “The Sailor” – Ben and the Sea



While I don’t find myself as attracted to the three other songs on the first third of Ben and the Sea’s debut album A Life Outside, I really enjoy the first track “The Sailor.” This tune has a cutting directness and a delicate sense of craft that makes it easy to like. Get the song for free below: