Showing posts with label voice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label voice. Show all posts

Monday, January 26, 2015

Sweet Baby James

I imagine every person on earth, or close to it, who has a son named James loves this song. Not that you need to have a kid to love it, but it only magnifies it.

Because I'm one of those people, I've heard many, many versions - both of James Taylor singing it and cover versions. This 1971 version from the Johnny Cash Show is my favorite. For starters, it was James Taylor's network television debut. And it's a powerful one, with just him, his guitar, his voice and one timeless song.

It's also a triumphant performance, with the audience jumping to their feet as if they were spring-loaded, and James Taylor walking off the stage to shouts of "More!"

Even though my son is named James, I never sang this song to him. Both he and his sister were sung to sleep with Springsteen's Thunder Road when they were babies (I know, I'm as shocked as you are).

Still, this is the song that just opens the floodgates thinking about my boy. It perfectly captures the love that all of us in the James Parents Club have for our boys.

The story is James Taylor wrote the song for his nephew who was named after him. He wanted it to be a cowboy lullaby, a buckaroo to bedtime melody.

That's his story, and he's sticking to it. But I know the truth.

He wrote it for my baby James.

Friday, February 28, 2014

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.