Yep, I'm a Swiftie

I have a confession to make. I'm a Swiftie.

If I'm being honest with myself, and really, where's the percentage in that, I may have been right from the start. And by the start I mean when my now grown, married daughter started listening to her when she—my daughter, not Taylor—was a little girl.

At first I was hesitant to admit it, but it was a different time. That was then and this is now. Besides, these days, even if I didn't like a lot of her music, which I do, there'd be an awful lot of other things to like about her.

Let's start with the one main reason that brings me endless joy: she terrifies MAGA nation. That alone is reason enough to love Taylor Swift. With one Instagram post encouraging fans to register to vote, and driving them to vote.org, over 35,000 of them did just that. The GOP is scared that she could sway an election by endorsing Biden. Which she could. Fuck MAGA.

And while she didn't support a side, it's well known in 2018 she supported the democratic candidates in Tennessee.

Do yourself a favor and take nine minutes to look at this clip of Brian Tyler Cohen explaining exactly how Fox News and Republicans are melting down about Taylor. It's a thing of beauty.

Politics aside, a few other things to love about Taylor Swift. She's an extraordinary role model, which, if you happen to have a daughter, you know are in short supply. Unlike artists in her position, she not only appreciates her fans but she shows up for them, usually without fanfare or publicity. Taylor's been known to surprise fans at their homes, on their birthdays, at weddings, at their hospital bedside, and sometimes, like here, their engagement parties.

She's generous with her time as well as her money. At the end of the U.S. leg of her wildly popular ERAS tour, Taylor gave members of her crew $100,000 each as a thank you for all their hard work—do the math. Never mind, I'll do it for you. It totalled $50 million.

She cares about people. She's nice. She models gratitude. If you've ever seen her in interviews she's A) Genuine B) Intelligent C) Suprisingly funny D) All of the above.

The answer is D.

And let's not neglect to mention her work ethic. She's been a star for a long time now, but she didn't start out filling up 96,000 seat stadiums night after night. She worked hard from a young age to become the performer, songwriter and global pop star she is today.

Speaking of songwriting, her catalog ranges from teenage girl longing (Love Story / You Belong With Me), to cleverly written and performed break up songs (We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together), to a feminist anthem that resonates with truth (The Man). The first two songs my daughter played for me, also included below, were Hey Stephen and the heart-tugging The Best Day.

If you're already a fan, and especially if you're not, have a listen.

She's performed with, and counts as fans people like James Taylor, Mick Jagger, Ed Sheeran, Tim McGraw and Kendrick Lamar to name a few.

In fact, even this guy is a fan.

Going to the Matt

For the life of me I don’t understand why YouTube isn’t called RabbitHole. I can’t tell you how many of them I’ve gone down late into the night when sleep seems to have lost my address.

Well, I could tell you but it’d just be embarrassing. Although if you’ve followed this blog for any length of time, you know embarrassing isn’t necessarily a dealbreaker.

Anyway, I was going to do a post about my favorite song in the world by a certain gravel-voiced singer from New Jersey, Thunder Road. And I was going to include several versions of it like I’ve done in the past for songs like Tracks of My Tears, Unchained Melody and I Can't Make You Love Me.

That’s when I came across a TR cover by Matt Nathanson.

I’m not particularly fond of Springsteen covers, but Matt Nathanson’s version grabbed me immediately. In the video, there’s a bit of a preamble to the song that showed me humor, and then heart, with a voice that’s as emotional as it is enjoyable.

Buckle up, down the rabbithole I go.

His song Used To Be hits home hard, as does the winsome Blush. Besides, how can you not like a singer with a song where the first line is “I fell asleep, had a dream Bill Murray and I were friends….” I know, right?

Ask anyone who knows me and they’ll tell you that I’m a talented writer and good looking, but could stand to lose a few pounds. Wait, I may have gotten off point there. What I meant was they’ll let you know when I find a song or a singer I like, I play them into oblivion until I have to take a break from them for a while.

Honestly, I just don’t see that happening with Matt Nathanson. He’s one of those singers you can’t help but wonder why he’s not a bigger star, and why his songs aren’t playing everywhere.

See what I mean. Have a look and a listen.

Song and dance

There's a joke I like to use whenever someone mentions they've injured their ankle, knee, foot or that they've had a hip replacement. My usual reply is, "So I guess the Riverdance audition is off." In case you're not familiar with Riverdance, here's why it's funny:

In reality—a place I rarely visit—these dancers are highly skilled, precision artists and athletes who have devoted the necessary time and practice into perfecting their joyous art.

This is not something we have in common.

I bring this up because my beautiful daughter is getting married in exactly a month. And while that means a festive celebration, a new family, a great son-in-law, a lifetime of happiness for my baby girl, and a canyon-like dip in my retirement savings, it also means something a bit more frightening to me: the father-daughter dance.

If you've ever been to a wedding, you're famiiar with the tradition. Either after the newlywed couple's first dance, or when I'm done delivering my brilliant, quotable, side-splittingly hilarious yet tearfully poignant toast (post to follow), there will be the father-daughter dance.

The first step (see what I did there?) was to choose the song. This is one of the few choices I actually get to make. I spent several nights watching and listening to father-daughter wedding dance songs on YouTube, crying my eyes out. Seriously, I was a mess. I know what you're thinking, but let's see you listen to this, or this, or this and this and see how you do tough guy.

After being overruled on Highway To Hell (you know the joke: The fact there’s a Stairway To Heaven and a Highway To Hell should tell you who’s expecting more traffic), I finally landed on a song with some history and meaning to me and my girly. I know you want to know what it is, but I'm not going to reveal it here. Like my hilarious toast to the couple—have I mentioned that before?—some things need to remain a surprise.

The actual dance is the really scary part. To make sure we're properly prepared, my daughter and I have decided to take some dance lessons at Arthur Murray Dance Studios. Ironically, there's one within walking distance from the house.

Walking I know how to do.

We had our first lesson yesterday, and it went quite well. Back step, side step, rock back, spin - yeah, I know the lingo. The instructors and personnel are lovely, supportive and encouraging. Obviously they're well aware of how nervous their students are. Especially the first time ones.

What I found to be the worst part of the experience was being surrounded by mirrors. Not the small, narrow full-length dressing mirrors you'd have in the corner of your bedroom.

Or the funhouse kind I like that make me look tall, thin and lanky (which coincidentally are the ones I have in my bedroom).

No, these dance studio mirrors were other ones. The ones that make me feel like reference material for Brendan Fraser.

I suppose the right way to think of the mirrors is as additional inspiration to get closer to dancing shape as the date sneaks up on me.

And although we've already got the song and the basic steps to the dance we're going to do, there are always additional little flairs and moves I'm thinking about adding at the last minute to spice it up a bit. You know, make it more memorable.

Not to tip my hand, or tap my toe, too much, but I'm thinking a little something like this:

The long goodbye

Yesterday was a very good day. At twelve minutes before noon eastern, you could actually feel the country—nay, the world—breathe a sigh of relief we’d been holding in for over four years.

In case you’ve been living under a rock,—in which case there’s a better than average chance you might be a Trump cabinet member—the reason is because decency, compassion, intelligence, experience, diplomacy, scientists, grownups and words spelled correctly are once again calling the White House home.

There were also a lot of predictable songs being played, quoted and sung to celebrate the occasion—all taking aim at a certain orange-faced, tiny-handed, democracy-hating, Stay Puft, unstable genius who was leaving on a jet plane (at taxpayer’s expense) for the last time.

Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead.

Goodbye To You.

Na Na Na Na Hey Hey Goodbye.

Good Riddance. Not the Green Day song: I’m saying good riddance.

And I’m filing this one under better late than never, but almost all the social platforms that gave Cadet Bone Spurs a megaphone to spew his bile and idiocy finally decided to cut off his oxygen by banning him and his hate rhetoric. This isn’t to say he’ll be gone from the public eye entirely, what with that pesky impeachment trial and New York state indictments coming down the pike, but his exposure—at least to the public—has been greatly sidelined.

I’m sure his fragile ego and malignant narcissism are handling it just fine.

Anyway, like almost everyone in the world not wearing a red hat, I’ve had more than enough of him. I refuse to give him anymore mind space.

So as of today, I’m announcing my candidacy for….wait…that’s not it. Oh, right. I’m announcing I’m done posting memes, retweets, cartoons, articles and anything else talking about Trump, even if it’s how awful he is, to any of my social feeds.

Yeah I know. I’m sorry to see them go too.

But really, it’s just redundant. It’s like saying the sky is blue. The ocean is deep. Trump is a festering piece of shit.

Damn it! Old habits die hard. Sorry (not sorry).

Fear not, I’ll still be putting up political posts, maybe even about his grifter family members or android son-in-law. Just no more directly about him. Every time his name gets mentioned, it keeps him in the public conversation and a kitten dies. I don’t think any of us want that.

Besides, there’s a whole new administration to make fun of, although I’m sure for the most part it’ll be the good-hearted, good-natured kind.

And don’t you worry about me backsliding on my promise. It’s as solid as the new year’s resolution I made to lose weight.

For the last twenty years.

Well well it's Adele

Some days, this whole "work from home" thang is extremely productive for me. From the minute I hit the keyboard in the morning until I close up shop at night, my fingers are flying fast and furious writing spellbinding, innovative, entertaining and motivating copy that sells the spectacular printers, scanners and projectors made by the global technology company I work for.

Afterwards, at the end of the day as the sun takes its bow and gives way to the coming night, a feeling of great satisfaction and accomplishment washes over me, and a smile slowly dials its way up to full brightness as I bask in the glow of a job very well done.

That's some days. Today wasn't one of them.

Instead, today was the other kind—the one where, despite my best efforts, my mind has a mind of its own and decides to be a few miles south of focused as we spiral down a YouTube rabbit hole for hours on end and see where it takes us.

Those days hit every creative person I know. And I think I speak for all of us when I say that when it happens, the best thing to do is just buckle up and go along for the ride.

For some reason, probably because she hosted Saturday Night Live last week, Adele was on my mind. There was a sketch on the show spoofing The Bachelor, and at the end of it Adele starts singing while she walks off the stage and into the audience. It was a great, unexpected moment—especially for the audience.

I'd never describe myself as an Adele fan, but every time I hear her sing I'm dumbstruck at how stunningly beautiful her voice is. And even moreso by how effortless she is in her performance. She doesn't need to go through wild gyrations, have two dozen backup dancers, recorded backup vocals or a blinding laser light show. All she needs to do is stand there, share her gift and belt out her songs in that voice I can't seem to get enough of.

Okay, so maybe I am an Adele fan.

The song in the video up top, When We Were Young, is one of my favorites and a great example of the kind of performance I'm talking about.

I'd also forgotten about it, but today in my YouTube travels I was reminded Adele is also a bawdy Englishwoman with a cheeky sense of humor. I rediscovered a video I'd seen a few years ago of her auditioning at an Adele impersonator contest in disguise. It's funny, poignant and generous of her as the women she's auditioning with are obviously die-hard fans and slowly realize who one of their competitors is.

But then again, once you hear that voice—Hello—it's hard not to.

Dead band walking

Before The Walking Dead, 28 Days and World War Z, The Zombies had already arrived.

See if this sounds familiar: do do do aaahhh do do do aaahhh. I knew you'd recognize it. Time Of The Season was The Zombies first big hit in the states. The British band started in 1958, and 60 years later, they're still singing it.

The best part is it still sounds great.

The clip above is from The Tonight Show a few years ago. Aside from the vocals which are surprisingly strong and confident, the organ solo is killer. And if Steve Rodford isn't the most relaxed drummer I've ever seen I don't know who is.

The Zombies had two other big hits: She's Not There, and Tell Her No. They're right here for your viewing and listening pleasure. I think there's something hopeful and encouraging about people so good at what they do, doing it for so long.

It doesn't take any brains to know rock and roll will always get older. But it'll never die.

Thunder Road

You didn't really think I was going to get through the week without a Bruce post did you?

Anyone who knows me—as much as anyone can know anyone—would tell you Thunder Road is not just my favorite Springsteen song. It's my favorite song ever. I was trying to think about why that is. It's not the first time.

As you'd imagine, I get asked about my Boss obsession a lot, and I've pondered it for hours, months, years trying to figure it all out.

I was reading through the comments on this Thunder Road video, and I read this one from Jimmy Braum.

The second I did, it felt right.

So thank you Jimmy for putting in a line the feeling I probably would've rambled on for paragraphs about, without getting anywhere near as clear and succinct as you have.

As I write this I'm getting ready to leave work and head home.

I bet you can guess what I'll be listening to on the drive.

Happy Labor Day

We're into the long weekend, and tomorrow is Labor Day. So what better time to celebrate by listening to some fine music celebrating the tone and spirit of this deserved holiday that honors this country's Labor movement and the working men and woman who led it.

Alright, not all of these songs actually honor the movement - some have a little fun with it.

From Elvis to Alabama, maybe you'll know a few of these. If you do, or even if you don't, please to enjoy. And be sure to make the most of your holiday weekend.

You worked hard for it.

Jean's dreams

Here's what won me over about Jean Kelley. It wasn't her voice, which is soulful and spectacular by the way. It was her humor.

When Jean appeared on this past season of The Voice, two chairs turned around for her: Gwen Stefani and Blake Shelton. When the judges were fighting over her, each trying to convince her to choose them, Blake Shelton said, "I have to have you on my team." To which Jean replied, "Do you now?"

BAM! Moxie. Brass. Nerve. A Jean Kelley fan was born.

A lot of people think of these talent shows as shortcuts to fame and fortune. In fact David Grohl has a famous rant about how musicians should pay their dues first, and how a judging panel can destroy them by telling them they're not good enough. But here's the thing: every musician has been told they're not good enough - it's the price of entry if you're going to pursue it.

And as any artist who's appeared on one of these shows will tell you, it's no guarantee of anything except the moment. I have great respect for anyone who appears on them - they're putting themselves out there in the most demanding, nerve-wracking way.

While those shows weren't around when Nirvana was, if they were Dave Grohl and the band might've given it a shot. The truth is now, they're another tool in the box, a means to an end.

Still, no matter where they place in the competition, artists still have to play small clubs, rude crowds, be opening acts no one wants to hear and put all their time, money and soul into finding an audience for their music.

If you follow me on Facebook or Twitter - and seriously, there are far better people to follow - you know I've been promoting Jean's Kickstarter campaign to fund her EP and tour. As of this writing, there are 5 days left to raise the remaining $12,600 she needs to make this first part of her dream a reality.

I've written here about how great if feels helping someone's dream come true. But of course the best way to find out if that's true is to open your wallet, fire up the credit card and see for yourself.

And I think helping to fund Jean Kelley would be a great place to start.

Waits and measures

This is going to come as a surprise to a lot of people who know me, but raspy, gritty, gravel-voiced singers seem to be the ones I'm most drawn to. That would explain the Springsteen thing. But I haven't always been the hardcore Springsteen fan you know me as today. Before there was Bruce, long before, there was Tom Waits.

When I was growing up, I lived in West Hollywood not too far from the Tropicana Motel where Waits lived for years. There was a restaurant called Duke's downstairs from the motel (it's since moved to Sunset Blvd. near the Whiskey), and it was for a long time the best breakfast in L.A. My friends and I would eat there a lot, and more often than not - if it was early enough - we'd see Waits there. I never spoke with him, but I do recall a few nods were exchanged.

Anyway, by any criteria, Tom Waits is that word that's used all too often to describe considerably lesser talents. He is a musical genius.

There are a few genuinely great, timeless songs that transport you to another place, or capture an experience and moment so well they just grab you by the throat. Or the heart. Their sad poignancy and melancholy, with visual lyricism so precise it's as if you're watching a movie instead of listening to a song, washes over you completely. For me, one of those songs is The Heart Of Saturday Night.

Over the years I've heard him perform it many times in concert. This video - which is actually just the audio off the album of the same name - is how I first heard the voice of a young Tom waits sing it.

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Waits has always experimented with all kinds of sounds and instrumentation throughout his career. And while he's never strayed too far from music, over the years he's also carved out a respectable and varied acting career for himself.

Which I think is a good thing. Because, and I'm braced for the flack I'm going to get for saying this, after years of smoking, drinking, carousing and vocal strain, it is impossible to listen to the Tom Waits of today and enjoy it.

Every singers voice changes with age. Some get richer, deeper. Others lose the ability to hit the highs and lows. But where once the grit in Waits voice lent his songs their melancholy, power and romanticism, for me the truth is now he's unlistenable.

Take a listen to this recent recording and see what you think:

I guess it could be described as beautiful noise. Or a bold expression of his art.

For me, the Tom Waits of today sounds like gravel and broken glass in a garbage disposal.

I realize how harsh that sounds. But I'm angry that the Waits I loved didn't care better for his instrument, and let it have the emotional impact of his early years even if in a more mature sound.

To those who think I've turned on him, I haven't. I will always respect and admire his genius, and will always have his library of songs to listen to.

Only now, it's not the songs that make me sad.

Big Yellow Taxi

As you know, every once in a while I get swept away in the music, swaying to the rhythm, tapping my toes and singing along to a song that both transports me to another place and is transformational in its very essence.

Nah, I'm just funnin' ya. I do this when I can't think of something to write.

So, like The Wind, Tracks Of My Tears, Walk Away Renee, Stand By Me and Secret Heart before it, Big Yellow Taxi joins this elite group as today's compare and contrast exercise.

First is the Counting Crows performing a cover version. Always difficult to do a cover of a song that was so big, but I think they acquit themselves admirably.

Then of course, the Joni Mitchell version. As the songwriter, Joni has the advantage coming into the game, but we'll see whether her vocal acrobatics can hold up for the long run. We'll be back after the break.

Oh, sorry. Still thinking about Super Bowl.

Walk Away Renee

As you may know, in the past I've compared and contrasted versions of the same song. I did it for Tracks Of My Tears, Stand By Me, Secret Heart, and even a then-and-now comparison of Cat Stevens singing The Wind.

I do it for the sheer pleasure these songs, some classic, bring to the ears and the soul. I do it because there are great versions that don't get seen often enough and deserve to. I do it because it's exciting to discover new artists as they perform old favorites.

But mostly I do it because it's easier than thinking of a new post every day.

The Left Banke recorded the original hit, and their version is included here.

Sad and poignant, teary and nostalgic, melancholy and timeless, please to enjoy these versions of Walk Away Renee.

Breaking news: we have a break-up song winner

It wasn't easy. But then love never is.

Just to refresh your memory, last week I put up a post bringing back my breakup song contest. The first time I barely got three suggestions. This time, it was an avalanche. Apparently a lot of bad memories have come flooding back to all of you since the first effort.

And as we now know, broken hearts make for mighty good song suggestions.

For the last week the Rotation and Balance team of psychologists, relationship gurus, heartbreak counselors, romance novel authors, luv brokers and interns working for no pay have listened to all the outstanding entries and, difficult as it was, chosen a winner.

I won't keep you in suspense any longer. For the song we believe best sums up the emotional devastation left in the aftermath of a failed relationship - all to a good beat - the winner is (drumroll please) Carrie Talick.

Her winning entry? Love Stinks.

Not only does Carrie get her winning song from iTunes (right after she sends me her email), she also gets these six runner-ups. It was originally only going to be four, but the judges decided they were just too good and had to expand the prize.

Congratulations Carrie.

Presented here in no particular order:

A late break-up entry

You may remember a while back I did a post about break-up songs, and decided to turn it into a contest for the best one.

If you remember that, you're doing better than I am.

Due to the enormously underwhelming response, not only did I completely forget about it, but the grand prize of the winning song via iTunes remains unclaimed.

So here's what I'm going to do, since I'm not ready to break-up with this contest yet (I know, but I went for it anyway).

Let's give it another go. Submit your best break-up songs, and the selection committee here at Rotation and Balance will pick a winner shortly. We'll even sweeten the heartbreak pot: not only will you win your song from iTunes, you'll get the 5 runner-ups as well.

Entries from last time - Maybe You're Right, Hating You For Christmas and With Or Without You - are still in the running, so for the people who submitted them (you know who you are), no need to resubmit.

Just to get the tears rolling, I'm entering Can We Still Be Friends (don't worry, I'm not eligible to win).

What're you waiting for? Get listening. Because now, dredging up all your bitter, forgotten pain and heartache from the past could mean valuable prizes!

You're breaking up

It's not exactly a contest, but I'm thinking this is definitely going to be an audience participation post.

I don't know why this is on my mind (Note to wife: really dear, no reason), but I was thinking about break-up songs. Not the crappy, syrupy ones that have too many strings and A minor notes (impressed aren't you?). Not the teen heartache or poppy Neil Sedaka-esque ones either.

I'm talking about the ones I listened to over and over that either perfectly captured the misery of the moment, or said what I wished I had.

Break-up songs are like fingerprints: everyone has one that's unique to them and their situation. Some are wistful. Some are vengeful. And some just kind of tell it the way it is. That's the kind I usually gravitated to because those songs were always the hardest to argue with.

So not surprisingly, here's the one that was always my favorite.

Now to the audience participation part. First of all, I don't think there's anyone who doesn't like to re-live one of the most painful times in their life over and over (Jewish, hello?).

Here's what we're going to do: let me know your favorite break-up song, and why. As they come in, an impartial panel of break-up and relationship experts here at Rotation And Balance International Headquarters will select the five most popular ones. Not only will they be posted here, but if you're the one who submitted it you'll also receive your break-up song as a gift from iTunes (I'll get your email addresses when we have the winners). That way, when the mood strikes, you'll be able to experience the excruciating pain of a failed relationship over and over again.

It'll be like you're an honorary Jew. Except without the bad wine and lackluster holidays.

You're welcome.