Bowie, Bowie and my sister.
If you have a great weekend planned, don't read this. If it's just another dreary pre-holiday set of days for you, well, go ahead. I swear it's not my intention to bum you out. I don't think any members of my family actually read my blog, but just in case, I'm going to be vague on the personal parts and public on others.
My sister entered the hospital yesterday for a major operation. A few months ago, she went in to see her doctor for a routine check-up and he discovered something else. The situation was serious enough that the professionals said surgery was the only recourse. While I was running around the AP Skyscraper doing something, her boyfriend left a voicemail for me telling me she went through the surgery with no complications, but they were going to observe her for a couple days just to make sure she was okay. No worries.
The day before she went in, I finished compiling the list of Bands We Ain't Touching With A Sterilized Javelin and called her up. I said I was thinking about her and tried to drop some wiseguy one-liners on her to make her laugh. While I did get a few out of her, she was volleying back some wisecracks of self-deprecation that significantly downplayed her immediate future. She was really casual about the whole thing, listing a whole bunch of things to do ("Take our mother out for her checkup, get groceries, do laundry, undergo major surgery, get gasoline...."). After 10 minutes of this, I wished her luck, told her I loved her and that I'd see her and the rest of the brood for Thanksgiving. Then I went back to work.
Later that night, sometime before Conan O'Brien told his audience, "Bah, everbody, BAH!" and long after my wife went to bed, taking the dogs and cats with her, I decided to catch up on my TiVo playlist. I was stacking up episodes of House, Eli Stone, Pushing Daisies and Eleventh Hour (I promised Mrs. Pettigrew to look the other way if Rufus Sewell wanted to show her his Union Jack, so to speak), but, hey, I gotta get up in the morning. Instead, I watched an old episode of the British music show, Later With Jools Holland. I recorded it months ago, and kept it because David Bowie played a really cool arrangement of "Rebel Rebel," and I'm trying to figure out how to get it onto my computer and my iPod.
The show closed with Bowie and his band playing the title track to his 2002 disc, Heathen. Alan Dodds picked out a melancholy, yet hopeful sounding guitar figure and then everybody else started layering their parts on top of it. The atmosphere was positively haunting. Then Bowie sang, "You say you'll leave me/And when the sun is low/And the rays high /I can see it now/I can feel it die." At that moment, something sprang out from my subconscious and I was overcome with sadness. My Shetland sheepdog (named after the guy performing on my TV screen) came into the room, jumped on the couch and put his beak on my lap. I was reminded of an old interview with some '90s alt-rock luminary who said the biggest musical influence in his life was his older sister. Because growing up, he played all of her records when she went out for the evening. I thought about rocking my sister's copy of the Doors' The Soft Parade when I was a kid. I thought about the time when I was 11 and had to go to the hospital for the "traumatic" allergy tests. My sis came to visit me toting a copy of Alice Cooper's Billion Dollar Babies album and some AC fan mag that was filled with references to some heavy intellectual stuff (Antonin Artaud, Baudelaire) I shudda been discovering in college. All of those memories came flooding back like a building falling on me. I think I shot through a new box of Kleenex for the last 100 seconds of that song, and even Bowie (the dog) felt a need to lick my face clean. (Maybe he just craves salty things at 2 in the morning and chips weren't available.)
Okay. My sister is fine, I'm way behind on my paperwork and I've installed Kleenex on the weekend grocery list. What do I want from you? Tell me the song that's guaranteed to evacuate your tear ducts and why. The kind of song where you have to leave the room/mall/restaurant when it's playing in order to maintain your public composure. The song you gotta skip on the disc because the other 10 your central nervous system can handle. The song you keep hidden from yr hahdcoa bros because it reminds you about loss or something else you couldn't control. And let's not talk about being "emo" or being wussy or some such useless bullshit. Because I'm willing to bet my record collection that the toughest neck-tatted pit warrior you know got his/her psyche crushed by something. I don't want you to be cool--I want you to be human.
Jill: I'm glad you're okay. Everyone else: Start spilling.
My sister entered the hospital yesterday for a major operation. A few months ago, she went in to see her doctor for a routine check-up and he discovered something else. The situation was serious enough that the professionals said surgery was the only recourse. While I was running around the AP Skyscraper doing something, her boyfriend left a voicemail for me telling me she went through the surgery with no complications, but they were going to observe her for a couple days just to make sure she was okay. No worries.
The day before she went in, I finished compiling the list of Bands We Ain't Touching With A Sterilized Javelin and called her up. I said I was thinking about her and tried to drop some wiseguy one-liners on her to make her laugh. While I did get a few out of her, she was volleying back some wisecracks of self-deprecation that significantly downplayed her immediate future. She was really casual about the whole thing, listing a whole bunch of things to do ("Take our mother out for her checkup, get groceries, do laundry, undergo major surgery, get gasoline...."). After 10 minutes of this, I wished her luck, told her I loved her and that I'd see her and the rest of the brood for Thanksgiving. Then I went back to work.
Later that night, sometime before Conan O'Brien told his audience, "Bah, everbody, BAH!" and long after my wife went to bed, taking the dogs and cats with her, I decided to catch up on my TiVo playlist. I was stacking up episodes of House, Eli Stone, Pushing Daisies and Eleventh Hour (I promised Mrs. Pettigrew to look the other way if Rufus Sewell wanted to show her his Union Jack, so to speak), but, hey, I gotta get up in the morning. Instead, I watched an old episode of the British music show, Later With Jools Holland. I recorded it months ago, and kept it because David Bowie played a really cool arrangement of "Rebel Rebel," and I'm trying to figure out how to get it onto my computer and my iPod.
The show closed with Bowie and his band playing the title track to his 2002 disc, Heathen. Alan Dodds picked out a melancholy, yet hopeful sounding guitar figure and then everybody else started layering their parts on top of it. The atmosphere was positively haunting. Then Bowie sang, "You say you'll leave me/And when the sun is low/And the rays high /I can see it now/I can feel it die." At that moment, something sprang out from my subconscious and I was overcome with sadness. My Shetland sheepdog (named after the guy performing on my TV screen) came into the room, jumped on the couch and put his beak on my lap. I was reminded of an old interview with some '90s alt-rock luminary who said the biggest musical influence in his life was his older sister. Because growing up, he played all of her records when she went out for the evening. I thought about rocking my sister's copy of the Doors' The Soft Parade when I was a kid. I thought about the time when I was 11 and had to go to the hospital for the "traumatic" allergy tests. My sis came to visit me toting a copy of Alice Cooper's Billion Dollar Babies album and some AC fan mag that was filled with references to some heavy intellectual stuff (Antonin Artaud, Baudelaire) I shudda been discovering in college. All of those memories came flooding back like a building falling on me. I think I shot through a new box of Kleenex for the last 100 seconds of that song, and even Bowie (the dog) felt a need to lick my face clean. (Maybe he just craves salty things at 2 in the morning and chips weren't available.)
Okay. My sister is fine, I'm way behind on my paperwork and I've installed Kleenex on the weekend grocery list. What do I want from you? Tell me the song that's guaranteed to evacuate your tear ducts and why. The kind of song where you have to leave the room/mall/restaurant when it's playing in order to maintain your public composure. The song you gotta skip on the disc because the other 10 your central nervous system can handle. The song you keep hidden from yr hahdcoa bros because it reminds you about loss or something else you couldn't control. And let's not talk about being "emo" or being wussy or some such useless bullshit. Because I'm willing to bet my record collection that the toughest neck-tatted pit warrior you know got his/her psyche crushed by something. I don't want you to be cool--I want you to be human.
Jill: I'm glad you're okay. Everyone else: Start spilling.
11 Comments:
hope theres someone - antony and the johnsons
gets me everytime
Piano Man by Billy Joel
Every year in high school, before every performance of our musical cast, crew, and pit, would all gather around in a circle and sing along to Piano Man. It's a tradition that basically makes everyone cry because the seniors are leaving and we grow older. I still can't hear it without my mind wandering and/or crying because everything was so much different. I feel nostalgic and try to imagine what life would be like had I done some things differently in high school.
Also Jason, it was really nice to see your human side.
Also I love Jules Holland, that show is the best.
Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World
Around the time this cd first came out a friend of mine and her family died of carbon monoxied poisoning. They played this song at the memorial. It's pretty hard to listen to because I will always associate it with what happened.
"You'll Never Walk Alone"
Yeah, I know. It's from the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, Carousel. Sure, they sing it on American Idol. However, have you ever heard this thing sung by 50,000 Liverpool F.C. fans? Only when those fans sing it does it truely come alive. Pure energy, passion, and raw emotion. It seems/sounds silly, but when I hear those fans sing it, it makes me tear up every time. It's great fun being a soccer fan.
"Unchained Melody" by the Righteous Brothers
and
"Last Kiss" sung by J. Frank Wilson and the Cavaliers
I think I would even break into torrid wet face if "Unchained Melody" was in the middle of a horror movie.
Oi, what a topic. Okay, so, for me, it's this song by an obscure Christian folk band named Madison Greene. There's a hidden track at the end of their first full-length album called "In Memory", and let me tell you, nobody has ever bared their soul in public to the extent that the girl who sings that song does. Holy crap, I'm tearing up right now just thinking about it. It's powerful stuff, I tell ya.
"Do You Realize" by the Flaming Lips. But it's the "everyone needs a good cry now and then" kind of crying.
To be honest, I cry more easily at commercials (life insurance, coffee, mutual funds--whatever reflects passing time). I don't know what that says about me, though...
Pharoah Sanders' "The Creator Has a Master Plan" and Tim Buckley's "Song to the Siren."
So, I'm a cryer. I cried through 80% of Star Wars Episode III just because I knew Anakin was going to turn into Vader and Padme would die. Naturally, musically inspired tears are nothing foreign to me. There are a couple of songs, however, that really open the ole flood gates.
Weird - Hanson -- Ahh High School, thanks for the gut wrenching memories. (Yes, I am a Hanson fan)
Wake Me Up When September Ends - Green Day -- The video is what got me the first time. Now, whenever I hear it I think of war and all of the saddness and pain it causes.
Wind Beneath My Wings -- Bette Midler -- It was playing at my uncle's funeral. He died in a plane crash at 19.
By the way Jason, I'm glad your sister is ok.
"Ten Years Gone" by Led Zeppelin has often made me misty-eyed over the years. Something about the wistfulness of looking back on one's past, considering what your hopes and expectations were and which ones were met and the ones that weren't.
Also "Nothing Compares 2U" by Sinead O'Connor. The lyrics combined with her pained voice -- it rips your heart out.
And I have to agree with Rachel, "Do You Realize?" by The Flaming Lips is one guaranteed to make anyone with feelings cry. Combined with the video -- could make you weep.
My openid name probably says it all: The Cure's Untitled off Disintegration: "Hopelessly adrift in the eyes of a ghost again / down on my knees and my hands in the air again..."
That song is a combination of things from when I was 15: my older sister (who, like yours, influenced much of my early taste and provided me the opportunity to see many shows I wouldn't have otherwise), my dad, and the guy who probably doesn't realize that he saved my life with this song when he handed me the tape (yes, tape) in high school.
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