Vintage Freedom Jam

Nothing says freedom like breaking from the usual schedule, so here’s a mid-week jam for a mid-week holiday. Happy birthday, America.

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Elsewhere
Having fun today? Thank these guys: “Memories, Borne on the Fourth of July” – 7/4/2010

King James Approximately: A Summer Jam from Florida

Plenty of below average songs about Miami came to mind when I woke up this morning and learned that the Heat had won the NBA championship, but I thought it would be better for everyone to raise the level of geographic generality a little bit to broaden the options. Having done that, and recalling that the first day of summer was this week, the choice was pretty easy. Here’s “Mainline Florida,” the last cut off of the great early summer album, 461 Ocean Boulevard:

Please ignore the video uploader’s errant comma and make like Mike Miller and don’t let your troubles keep you from having a great weekend.

The Rev. Al Green reminds us why a prophet is not accepted in his hometown

Jesus said to them, “Surely you will quote this proverb to me: ‘Physician, heal yourself! Do here in your hometown what we have heard that you did in Capernaum.’ I tell you the truth,” he continued, “no prophet is accepted in his hometown.” – Luke 4:23-24.

Legendary soul singer Al Green was born in Arkansas, and he’s an ordained pastor at a Memphis church, but Grand Rapids, Michigan is his hometown. He grew up here from a young age, and he attended the same now-defunct high school as Gerald Ford.

But when Rev. Green returned to GR for the first time in over ten years, he mailed in his homecoming. After starting more than an hour and fifteen minutes late, Green played for not more than an hour and offered no encore, though after a brief, mostly flat performance, the disappointed audience’s request for an encore was pretty tepid.

Yes, Green still has his vocal range, if not a youthful stamina, and his twelve-piece band was fine. He sang “Let’s Stay Together,” and he did a disjointed medley of Motown snippets, but his brief set left the audience wanting a lot more. That may be an appropriate strategy for an up-and-coming act playing small clubs and building a following. It really isn’t an appropriate strategy for an established stars playing to a sold-out crowd, each of whom ended up paying more than a dollar a minute for Green to coast through his light performance.

While the, “It sure is great to be here in [fill in the blank city]!” is a throwaway line musicians use at every stop on a tour, it is a meaningful ritual because the audience really does love it, and because observing its execution can offer insight into the performer’s commitment to the individual performance. Whatever its value, Green didn’t make it easy to definitively answer the question, “does he know where he is?”, scattering his geographical shout-outs across the state. Although a tally of municipal mentions upon review of the concert transcript (those exist, right??) likely favored Grand Rapids, Green acknowledged Ann Arbor, Flint, Lansing, Muskegon, and other locales during his time on stage. The number of Michigan cities he named may have outpaced the number of songs he performed, which actually might sort of be a backhanded compliment to the Michigander audience in light of the state’s inferiority complex. Green sufficiently resolved whatever uncertainty existed in the fans’ minds when he sent us off with, “Good night Pontiac!”, though. Regardless of whether he knew where he was, he didn’t care, and that was illustrative of his approach to the night as a whole.

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Previously
Hang out at the Hangout
ALDLAND’s 2011 live music reviews

Gender Politics in a Cheerleader Jam….Maybe?

During last weekend’s Pop Music Symposium at SUNY Clinton, I heard for the first time Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe,” and late Wednesday night, reader Cactus William sent a/the music video, which will serve as this week’s Jam.

There’s a lot at play here. First, the song itself: I’ve only listened to it twice, and for different reasons, neither listen was a careful one, but it seems to be comprised of two fairly devastating pop hooks cycled as many times as three minutes and change will allow, and one less interesting bridge-ish segment with lyrics confusing in light of the purported plot. As for the singer herself, I’ve never heard of Jepsen before, and I can only assume that she comes from the Rebecca Black School of Corporate Music Manchurian Candidates, a vehicle to deliver said hooks and smile as her creators reel in the money.

Still, the financial circumstances of a song’s conception need not dictate its real value, and here I think we may have something of broader importance. I wrote earlier that Brad Paisley’s channeling of Arthur Conley with “Old Alabama” signaled country music’s arrival as America’s popular music genre, and I think something very roughly analogous is happening with “Call Me Maybe” vis-a-vis dynamics in popular gender politics. The thesis is that this song stands for a tipping point in male-female relations that sees a woman asserting herself, though just barely, as the first mover in the courtship context, contrary to traditional expectations. This thesis doesn’t ignore strong, demanding women of the past (Janis, “Tell Mama”) or even aggressive women of the present (e.g., Carrie Underwood, “Before He Cheats”), but it is operable to the extent it can bracket such apparent counterexamples as being either out of the mainstream or persistently reactionary despite their aggressiveness and focus its comparative backdrop on the likes of Taylor Swift, ALDLAND’s favorite anthro-feminine alien. On the other hand, this paragraph may have set back gender relations by a few decades or at least demonstrated my ignorance of contemporary popular music. Moving right along.

Next is the video, which stars members of the Miami Dolphins cheerleading squad. The first question here is, what motivated this? Was this just a sunny day romp around South Beach after cheer camp let out? Or, in Bring It On/Mean Girls fashion, was this a response to the leaked photo shoot of Lauren Tannehill, wife of Miami’s rookie quarterback and number eight overall draft pick Ryan Tannehill (who, if he didn’t outkick his coverage with his bride, certainly did with his draft position), in varying amounts of Dolphins-colored gear? To the extent this is knowable, determining the answer would initially involve comparing the dates of the leaking of the photos and the posting of the video, something I’m not going to do. Precision like that likely becomes less important when you’re striving for attention and HBO’s cameras are rolling.

To the extent that there’s any sports angle here, this video eventually will make you remember that, whether it’s the Hard Knocks curse, the implications of merely having cheerleaders, or the fact that Miami actually drafted Ryan Tannehill, the Dolphins are not going to be good this year, so enjoy this while you can, which is forever, because the internet is forever, unlike Dan Marino:

Hang out at the Hangout

Get down at the go-round. Flip flop at the tip top. Perhaps there have been music festivals with better names, but you would be hard pressed to find any better arranged than the Hangout Fest, which I attended last weekend.

In its third year, the Hangout Festival happens right on the beach in Gulf Shores, AL, and its 2012 lineup featured a high-end collection of popular rock, indie, jam, and other sorts of acts. The headliners were Jack White, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and the Dave Matthews Band. Other notables included the String Cheese Incident, the Flaming Lips, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, M. Ward, Alabama Shakes, and many, many more.

Two of my favorites, Steve Winwood and Space Capone, were playing on Sunday, but we started the day with another one I really enjoy: Mavis Staples. The 72-year-old singer was in strong voice and persona, and her band was working hard to keep up with her. Although she may have thrown the crowd off a bit early (or played right into its hands) when she became convinced, as a result of some eager heckling, that she was in a town called “Roll Tide, Alabama,” she soon reminded everybody she was hip to the modern scene, forcefully invoking the spirit of Levon Helm after performing “The Weight.” Overall, her set was enjoyable, drawing on different periods of her long career, and the hour was up much too soon.

Later that afternoon, on the same stage, Winwood turned in an excellently crafted set, the best I heard all weekend. Like Mavis, he used his hour-long set to hit on different points of his career, and it just so happens that he has one of the richest, most dynamic careers of any musician. He started and finished with his two early hits from the Spencer Davis Group days (circa 1966), opening with “I’m a Man” and closing with “Gimme Some Lovin’.” In between, he grabbed a couple Traffic tunes (“Low Spark of High Heeled Boys” and a very extended “Light Up or Leave Me Alone”), two Eric Clapton-related numbers (Blind Faith’s “Can’t Find My Way Home” and, from Winwood’s most recent album, Nine Lives, “Dirty City”), and brought everyone to his and her feet with a rousing rendition of maybe his biggest pop hit, “Higher Love.” On Hammond organ, Stratocaster, and signature vocals, Winwood turned in a solid set that lived up to great expectations and was a highlight of the festival.

For all their possibility, opportunity, sun, and sand, festivals can be pretty tiring, so we found … Keep reading …