These days, with digital music so easily streamed, albums seem not as central to music as they once were. Artists still make them; it’s even possible to buy vinyl versions of some new albums (there are those who still see vinyl as better than digital), but the industry no longer revolves around the idea.
In any event, a conversation topic I’ve enjoyed starting is the question of one’s perfect albums. Which is not to say one’s favorite albums — the two are not necessarily the same. A perfect album is one where you love — love, not just like — every single tune.
Lists differ, of course. The fun is seeing what people have in common.
Little Big Town: (l to r) Karen Fairchild, Phillip Sweet, Jimi Westbrook, & Kimberly Schlapman.
The last few weeks have been astonishing: Minnesota in the news for all the wrong reasons (but change may be coming); the covid19 thing ongoing; our strange politics ever stranger; we’re all going a little nuts. On the other hand, summer is here, so at least the weather has been cool and lovely (though there have been some hot and steamy evenings).
This past week or so, I’ve been mostly basking in my tree trying to figure it all out. Luckily, I’ve had some good music helping me along, and today I thought I’d share (once again) my love for the band Little Big Town.
It was eight years ago that I wrote about how I stumbled over them; they have been favorites of mine ever since.
Just about all of 2012 is in my rear-view mirror now. It joins well over 50 others, most of them so far back they are lost in the mist and fog of life. My car moves forward at its full legal pace: 24 Hours Per Day, just like the markers say. (You do not want to be pulled over by the causality cops for violating the reality limit. The fines are truly Lovecraftian.)
Up ahead I see the border markers for 2013. Less than six hours away, so there’s no need for more stops. It’s an easy drive, and there’s something very poignant about watching the last mile markers roll past. This is country passed through once, never visited again.
It’s a time to look back in my mirror for some last glimpses of the path traveled.
Tonight a very brief post to introduce you to a band I really love and to share with you one of their tunes that us very close to the top of my favorites list.
The name of the band is Little Big Town, and I first encountered them on the cable music channel Palladia. I happened to channel surf into a concert video that featured four musicians I didn’t recognize playing with someone I immediately recognized (for his unique guitar-playing style, if nothing else): Lindsey Buckingham.
Any Rock and Roll fan knows who Lindsey Buckingham is. He’s one of the key members of (what most people think of as) Fleetwood Mac.
Buckingham is an amazing guitarist, definitely one of the best, and that unique string-flicking guitar-playing style of his is always fun to watch (I cannot for the life of me figure out how he does it).
So naturally I stopped surfing and started watching, and I’m so glad I did. It led me to discover that the four musicians behind Buckingham comprised a country rock band, called Little Big Town.
Who have become one of my favorite bands.
Those of you who grew up with Rock & Roll probably heard your parents say, “That music all sounds the same.” (The implication: Therefore it’s crap.)
The funny thing is: To me, their music all sounded the same (and to some extent, still does). No doubt the music of my children will all sound the same to me (assuming I had any (which I don’t (and now it’s not likely I ever will (not that I’m bitter (yeah, right))))).
Truth is, I really have no ear for rap… it, um, all sounds the same to me. That may have more to do with having really bad hearing. I frequently cannot make out the lyrics of songs. Often, for me, the vocal track is just another melodic track that sounds like a human voice. And in any event, rap, to me, is more a form of poetry than of music.
Over the years, I’d noticed how my parents (and other lovers of classical music) could identify a symphony after hearing just a small bit. “Oh, yeah, that’s Foomhauser’s Opus #52 in P-flat Minor.” That seemed amazing and mysterious to me, but then I realized that I can do the same thing with rock. No doubt we can all identify music we’ve listened to over and over.