2003-11 Vital Source Mag – November 2003
When the Leaves Fall from the Trees
By Ben Merens This month, SCP welcomes guest author Ben Merens. Lucky will return in December. If you are inspired by parenting and would like to contribute a future column, send Lucky an email at slightlycrunchymama@yahoo.com. My two-year-old daughter and I were talking recently about birthdays. Actually, the discussion began when she asked me to tell about the day she was born. I tell her about mom being in the hospital and calling dad in the middle of the night. (The doctor had planned to induce labor on Friday afternoon. But she fooled us and chose to leave the womb very early on that Friday morning). I tell her about holding her after she came out of mom’s tummy and how we put her under a warm lamp because she was kind of cold when she was born. And then I tell her how mom fed her and told her “I love you” right away. And I tell her about how it snowed on her birthday and we all spent the day in the quiet of the hospital room… just the three of us. We all took a nap together. And then she came home. She loves to hear the story. And I love to tell it. Then I ask her. Do you know when your birthday is? She surprised me by saying “Yes I do!” “Oh really, and when is it?” I asked, anxiously awaiting her response. She is smart enough to tell me when she doesn’t know the answer to a question. So when she said she knew when her birthday was, I knew she’d say something that made sense to her and maybe to me. But I couldn’t imagine what that would be. I was quite sure, however, that it wasn’t going to be November 10th (her actual date of birth). “When the leaves fall off the trees Dad,” she said triumphantly. She smiled with the pride and satisfaction of knowing the answer to such an important question. But how did she manage to come up with this? I wondered. Then I realized that last year during the weekend of her birthday I was raking leaves into several piles in the back yard. And when the day of her party turned out to be a balmy 50 degrees and sunny, she and her friends ran outside and jumped in the leaves until the piles had been completely dispersed, as if they’d never existed. So, that is why she knows her birthday is “when the leaves fall from the trees.” There is something so innocent about the answer. So pure and real that I marvel at the simplicity of it. For my daughter, the month of November doesn’t even exist. But the change of the seasons is as real as she is.
Nov 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
Mojave 3
By Erin Wolf MOJAVE 3 Spoon and Rafter 4AD Mojave 3 has practically perfected the catchphrase, “quiet is the new loud.” With their exit from the shoegazing outfit Slowdive, we find them putting on the airs of alt-country, creating a sound rivaling bands like The Cowboy Junkies and Mazzy Star. Though select, these UK natives have built a very loyal following. Originally manned by Neil Halstead (vocals, guitars), Rachel Goswell (vocals, bass) and Ian McCutcheon (drums) in 1995, Mojave 3 later added the talents of Adam Forrester on keys and Simon Rowe on guitar creating one of the most pastoral sounds to be exported from England in recent times. Mojave 3 has continued in the vein of simplistic slo-core tinged with twang, and has created an introspective little album, Spoon and Rafter. More poignant and dreamy than 2001’s Excuses For Travelers with its’ upbeat tempo and orchestrations, the current effort shows Mojave 3 to be mellowing. This mellowing, however, may not necessarily be a wise decision when considering their original concept. At points, Spoon and Rafter seems almost too sleepy. Though their characteristic sound is soft and slow, sometimes too soft and too slow can be a recipe for record disaster when one song drones into the next. Aside from the departure into the more serene, the album is not a complete bust, and isquite brilliant in spots. The lovely, soft-but-twangy guitar sound once conjured up by the likes of Neil Young shows in the winsome track, “She’s All Up Above.” While “Too Many Mornings”, one of the record’s high points, calls the intro line from The Who’s “Love Ain’t For Keeping” their own. Hey guys, If you’re going to steal a line, at least make it more obscure… please. Overall, Spoon and Rafter is a nice collection of pretty, demure tunes; harmless and sweet — kind of like your kindergarten crush who brought you love notes on construction paper. At times, low key listening is a good breather for the soul, but, if you’re seeking the honesty and straight forward structure the band has become known for… you may not find it here.
Nov 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
Cheap Trick
By Rob McCuen CHEAP TRICK Special One Big 3 Records Mention Cheap Trick in some circles and brace yourself for the smug salvos that are sure to be flung your way. What can I tell the clueless dorks who think the Trick are an old and tired joke? Special One, Cheap’s first offering in six years (and dare I say it)? is better than Woke Up With a Monster, Robin’s hate-laden divorce record. While I’m at it, it’s damn near better than Revolver. Yep, Rockford’s lovable lads are back to span the globe and expand your mind with a flourish, and go see ’em, cuz they’re still the best live act in da biz when they wanna be. If shimmering power pop nuggets of love, loss and longing are your bag, run — (and don’t let me catch you downloading it) — don’t walk, to your fave retail outfit and purchase this gem like a man. You’re welcome, but I can’t waste all my energy pointing you into the right pop closets. Hell yeah they’re arrogant. They’re fabulous and the rat bastards have out-Beatled the Liverpool mop-tops themselves with this effort. Make no mistake, this is Robin’s record, and the thin man flexes the velvet of his million dollar voice on each and every number. He’s a street walking cheetah with a heart full o’ napalm, hate and menace on “Sorry Boy.” On the outstanding “Words,” “My Obsession,” “Pop Drone” and five other peerless instant classics, he is the perfect blend of Lennon, Bryan Ferry, Marc Bolan and Roy Orbison . “I Want You to Want Me” this ain’t. So yeah, so what if they only “rawk out” in two songs? This is a sad, melancholy soundtrack to lose your love to. I pace, I sing, I cry. For three days, I didn’t leave my house cuz I was obsessed with first “Words” and later “Too Much.” Robin never stops aching and yearning and the diminishing minor chords ala George Harrison guitars will saw your soul in half. The band basically lays back — mean, lean and pretty from top to back — and lets Robin’s voice carry the tunes. Robin Zander has simply become the finest white singer of anywhere or anytime. Living or dead, he’s the best there is. Tom and Zander carry their torches from song to song with the biggest and baddest choruses and middle eight bridges since Lennon and McCartney. So there. Oh yeah, Nielsen sings and plays brilliantly and Bun-man’s snare is a 12 pack of M-80’s going off all at once.
Nov 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
music is love.
By Laura Martin Music is love. Not a very popular David Crosby song, but an excellent summation of what music is to me. Everyone has those bands that they turn to in order to ease the pain of life or to celebrate the joy. For me, CSN&Y is such a band. A few years back, I left the comfort of my Milwaukee home in pursuit of a Master’s degree in Philadelphia. Born and raised in Milwaukee and the surrounding area, Philadelphia was quite a change for me. Fast cars and faster people gave me a bit of culture shock. I felt lost and a little depressed, and was even playing games with my own mind about how to justify getting out of town as fast as possible. A few months after my arrival, I saw that CSN&Y was coming to Philly for a reunion tour. I was thrilled. Since I had not been in Philly long, I couldn’t find anyone to go with. That, however, was not going to stop me from experiencing the blissful energy that they emitted. I hopped in my jeep and drove across town to the First Union Center. A bit scared and crazily excited, I walked up to the ticket line. True to CSN&Y’s message, the feeling in the air was of love and unity. Immediately, my fear vanished as I interacted with people of all ages and walks of life, sharing excitement about experiencing CSN&Y in their first North American tour since 1974. Although members of the group had gone their separate ways, their charisma had stood the test of time. I found my seat with minutes to spare. As the band came on stage, the audience roared in anticipation of the opening song. Before they even began, you could feel their energy move over the crowd. They sang songs old and new. True to their nature, they sang songs about the political and cultural upheavals of today and years gone by. One of my personal favorites was Stand and Be Counted, which encouraged the eager audience to go out and make a difference. Another new song, Seen Enough, spoke with passion of the disgust one feels about the problems of a society too obsessed with self. They also sang classics like Suite: Judy Blue Eyes and Teach Your Children. The evening proved to be more than I’d even hoped for. Having felt lost in a new city, without a personal compass or a friend to call my own, my energy and commitment to see through the goal of finishing my degree was renewed. My strength was inside me the whole time. The words of these four musicians reminded me of where to look. I have always been the kind of person that tries to spread the love and joy our universe has to offer. At times, I get discouraged by the hatred and fear I see in some people. After this concert, I was completely recharged and have remained so to this day. […]
Nov 1st, 2003 by Vital Archives
