The Messenger

This is a song about something that happens to too many people.

Atheists will disagree with what I'm about to say, and that's cool, but it would seem as though we were made to worship someone or some thing. Maybe it's only some of us, but that's how we were made. The problem with the poor girl in this song is that she, like so many millions of others, takes God's messenger for God Himself (or Herself, or Themselves, or however you would have it).

Funny, but that might be at least part of what atheists find so alarming about religion: this worship, not of God, but of a preacher who's no more sinless than we ourselves are. A messenger is a messenger; nothing more.

I don't believe Sally Simpson ever learned that. If there's such a thing as hell, it feels like what the Sally Simpsons of the world -- the seer-suckers and the guru-chasers -- go through as they stumble from idol to idol, never able to touch the One. It feels like the endless, aching desire for the communion that preachers -- whether power-hungry, or just sleepwalking like Sally herself -- snatch out of reach with every Sunday sermon.

This is The Who with "Sally Simpson".

Ten Favorite Bass Lines

As if anybody with any musical knowledge could only choose one!

So, I chose 10. Here they are.

Inner City Blues; Marvin Gaye: Funk Brother, Bob Babbitt, borrows rhythms from the classic drum pickups of late, fellow Funkster, Benny Benjamin, to kick things off. As the song progresses, Babbitt works subtle changes on the central melodic figure. His endlessly inventive playing calls to mind the tenuous, slippery, constantly-shifting nature of inner city life. More thoughts on this song here.

Roll Over Beethoven; The Beatles: Paul McCartney takes inspiration from James Jamerson -- and his own time in the clubs of Stuttgart's Reeperbahn district. Notice how he switches up the bass line in the last verse, giving a fresh burst of energy to flagging dance floor denizens.

Monkey Man; The Rolling Stones: Bill Wyman was part of one of the greatest rock rhythm sections of all time. But, sometimes, you need to shake loose and have fun. This is fun -- perhaps inspired by Jagger's loopy lyrics. Was it magic mushrooms, or just Laffy Taffy?

Tales Of Brave Ulysses; Cream: Jack Bruce's colorful playing here says everything about going on a life-changing journey -- the tentativeness; the over-confidence; the rebellion; and, finally, the wholesale rejection of everything you ever thought you wanted. The most emotionally-truthful work on this list.

Linus and Lucy; Vince Guaraldi Trio: This bass track was most likely recorded by Fred Marshall, who doubles Guaraldi's piano so closely that they sound like one instrument. They break away from each other in the sparkling improv section, then reunite when the A theme returns. The buzz of Marshall's bowed bass strings is the last thing you hear as the track fades out. More about the song in this playlist.

I Ain't Superstitious; The Jeff Beck Group: Listen to the heavy, heavy syncopation; [bassist Ron Wood spends] so long on the dotted eighths that the sixteenth notes almost come too late. The hard, un-syncopated triplets in the instrumental breaks that follow make for a stunning rhythmic contrast with the slinky groove in the verses. More on his performance here.

Let Him Run Wild; The Beach Boys: Fuzzy, happy bass work from both Jimmy Bond on acoustic bass, and Carol Kaye on electric, guides the rest of the band through some wicked changes said to be inspired by the sounds of Burt Bacharach. Bonus: Steve Douglas, picking up the bass line on tenor sax. More thoughts on the song and the band here.

5:15; The Who: John Entwistle, who was also an accomplished french hornist, doubles his fellow brass players on the song's distinctive, jazzy riff; driving the rest of the proceedings with an almost Baroque countermelody. Yes, Virginia, classical and jazz music can play very well with rock 'n' roll.

Going To A Go Go; Smokey Robinson: Silky and snake-hipped, thanks to the mighty James Jamerson -- surely one of the greatest musicians who ever lived. His sinuous bass line evokes the luxurious, low-lit confines of an exclusive club packed with Motown's cool kids, but somehow, open to everyone. 

Too Much Girl; The Resonars: Rippling bass by Matt Rendon fuses The Who and The Hollies in the greatest power pop act you've never heard.

The Who Get Subtle

Subtle? Really? On a cut from Live At Leeds?

There's plenty of noise here from the band that may still hold the world record for World's Loudest Rock and Roll Band. But that's not what made The Who great then, and it's not what cements their reputation now.

The Who were and are great because they're true musicians, and musicians pay attention to details.

Roger Daltrey's vocal shoots up and over the wall of noise, solo. Then, the noise stops, and Pete Townshend chimes in with tenor harmony on the last three, a capella words of the chorus. It's that little piece, unaccompanied by anything more than a single harmony line, that tells you everything you need to know about all that has gone before.

It's highly likely that the message sailed right over the heads of the audience.

This is The Who with "Shakin' All Over".

Bataclan

 EDITOR'S NOTE: I originally posted this on Tumblr, the day after the Paris attacks. I stand by my analyses, both musical and cultural. Obviously, the Daesh tag didn't catch fire, but names have power, and the idea of naming something as a means of controlling the dialogue around it is a sound one. On this, I would agree with Mad Men's Don Draper, having worked as an advertising copywriter for a good many years.

I’ll get to the video in a minute. You oughta know why I picked this one first.

“A concert in the City of Lights” – that’s what I keep thinking. It was a concert in the City of Lights, and they did … this.

I don’t pretend to understand the violence, deprivation, and loss that would lead someone to join up with a terrorist/jihadist organization.

That said, they don’t impress me. As Pete Townshend still sings to this day about political movements, “Meet the new boss/Same as the old boss”.

Saturday, Rolling Stone quoted a statement by Daesh (We should do as the French do, and stop calling them ISIS), which has claimed responsibility for the Paris attacks. The online statement says the organization targeted the Bataclan, the venue which hosted the Eagles Of Death Metal show, because, “[H]undreds of idolaters were together in a party of perversity.”

Riiiiight, right.

Now, everybody knows that, if you want to take down a movement, you target the leaders. Yet, the band escaped without injury when these Daesh clowns could have gunned them down in a heartbeat.

I’m not saying the band should have died. I’m saying it was no accident that they escaped. Leaving the band unharmed was a strategic decision by Daesh, pure and simple.

If they had killed the band, or taken them hostage, Daesh might have alienated Muslim kids who are on the fence – immersed by force of habit in Western culture, but angry at what’s happening to fellow Muslims in their home countries. You kill the band, you lose those kids – perhaps for good. What’s more, you kill any trace of sympathy or empathy that anyone in the West might have for the movement.

The Daesh brain trust doesn’t want that.

The organization’s statement also claims that Paris is a “capital of prostitution and obscenity”.

Horse shit.

If “prostitution and obscenity” were truly offensive to Daesh, they would have targeted prostitutes and, oh, let’s say child molesters, but no. This is a culture war, straight up. You wanna win this one? You’d best call on Don Draper, and let the Marines stay home.

According to the statement, yesterday’s attacks are the “first of the storm”. That we can believe, but we don’t have to buy the rest of their spin control. It’s time to stop quaking in our boots, and call them on their shit.

That’s what this excerpt from “Tommy” is about.

This is The Who, live at Woodstock, with “We’re Not Going To Take It/See Me, Feel Me/Listening To You”.