In which I make my triumphant return

(A blog in 5 acts.)

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I think if I were a pop music producer I would have a backup choir in pretty much every song I produced. Usually coming in toward the end to add that last over-the-top soulful touch. Seriously, I know plenty of songs have this already, but I can’t fathom why every song doesn’t. It’s not like pop music has ever been afraid of doing too much of a good thing. And a choir singing backup and adding little soulful shouting behind the vocals is most definitely a good thing.

This is how I’m justifying my love for this Unwritten song that was (I guess) a pretty big hit this summer. It’s a good bit of bubblegum pop anyway, and goodness knows I’m a sucker for inspirational-seize-the-day type songs anyway, but it’s that choir toward the end that takes me “this song is OK” to “I’m actually embarrassed by how much I like this song.”

Sure, there are other factors. I tend to hear the song in particularly appropriate situations – driving through Beverly Hills on a lovely June day, driving through Mission Hills on one of the most beautiful August days God ever created – and so I associate the song with those happy times. That’s all well and good, but it really comes back to that choir.

It’s basically a verse-chorus-verse-chorus-chorus-chorus song and the end would be really monotonous if it were just Natasha Beddiwhatever (full disclosure: this song is on my iPod so I could look her name up, I’m just too lazy) singing it over and over – though even then she (or, probably, the producer) does a nice job of altering the phrasing anyway. Still again – that choir.

Thing is, it’s probably not actually a choir. There could have been one or two people in the studio doing background vocals and it’s easy enough to make them sound like hundreds of voices. I care not. When those voice kick in I allow myself to see a balcony full of soul-singing women in white robes, giving it their utmost. I can see the lady at the far end of the line who’s not singing the words but instead is skatting and making all kinds of bizarre but soulful noises, complete with wild gyrations and hand movements. I see the choir moving together as one in a side-to-side motion, and yet individually breaking the rhythm of movement with arms thrown into the air or hands extended to assist in reaching a note as appropriate. I see and hear all of this and the song becomes secondary. I am powerless, I turn up the volume, my face breaks into a smile, I sing along. I feel no embarrassment until the song ends.

This is what pop music should be – and would be, if I were producing it.

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I’m thinking about changing my license plate again, mostly because I want a personalized plate, but also because it offers the side benefit of ridding myself of A6NEW, which I have hated ever since it arrived.

This started mostly in San Diego last month, because I saw a few music-related plates and I envied them. I spent one bored afternoon checking what was and was not currently taken according to the AZMVD web site and determined many interesting DMB-themed plates were available. I tabled the idea at that point, because my registration will need to be renewed at the end of October anyway – I decided to wait until it came due and if it still seemed like a good idea then, I would go ahead. It’s not registration time yet, but it’s been several weeks, and I’m still thinking I might do it. My favorite options are both reasonably easy to interpret, though even once correctly read most people won’t necessarily understand what it refers to. That’s OK with me.

The best of the options I remember were NMBR41 and LVRLYDN, for the songs #41 and Lover Lay Down, respectively. Something like 364041 is also an option – those are the untitled/numbered songs in the DMB catalog. I like all these options, but really wish I could somehow get something relating to the phrase “Don’t burn the day” on there. But I just can’t see how to compress that to seven letters. The lyric comes from the song “Pig,” but I really don’t need a license plate that says “Pig” on it. Suggestions and/or comments are welcome.

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I know I’ve been reading a lot of old literature (Shakespeare and gothic novels – all for school, of course) because when I above wrote “because I want” I first started to write “I am desirous of” and when I wrote “my face breaks into a smile” I originally had “my countenance becomes full of joy.” No kidding.

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Every year Neil Young puts on two concerts in San Francisco that are a benefit for the Bridge School, a special program that supports disabled children (gross oversimplification but I don’t really know all the details). The concerts attract big name bands that each night play acoustic sets of about an hour. Usually there are 3-4 big name bands and a few other smaller acts that you may or may not have ever heard of I’ve always thought it would be fun to go, but never been sufficiently motivated to make the trip.

This year’s lineup, however, includes not only my two favorite bands – Dave Matthews Band and Pearl Jam, to the uninitiated – but also Brian Wilson, Foo Fighters, Death Cab for Cutie, and – perhaps most intriguingly given the all-acoustic setting – Trent Reznor. Oh, how I want to go!

I spent Sunday looking up travel deals and flights and hotels and car rentals and all those nasty details. It wouldn’t be ridiculously expensive, but it’s more than I need to be spending. Plus it would require at least one and possibly two days of vacation from work, and those are increasingly hard to come by at this point. On Monday I decided the wise thing would be to not go. I made my peace.

Then yesterday I got a check from NAU for the balance of my student loan for this semester – they’re idiots and not only didn’t process it in a timely manner but also didn’t reduce the amount as I had requested. So it was a sizable check and for a moment there I thought, “Damn it all! I’ll go! I’ll pay for friends to come, as well! It’ll be a grand old time!” Then I came to my senses and reconfirmed my commitment to adult sensibilities – but the peace I had made had been disturbed and I was sad again.

But as of last night a wondrous new possibility has presented itself. It’s not in San Francisco and it’s not a bunch of interesting bands, but it’s within driving distance, it’s on a free weekend, and it’s realistic enough that it might cure my melancholy. On Saturday October 28 and Sunday October 29 Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds will play acoustic shows at the Santa Barbara Bowl! I’m giddy at the thought. Tickets will be hard to come by, but I think I’ll at least have to try. Even if only for Saturday night. And could there be a way to work this into a Disneyland / Knott’s / Six Flags trip? Oh, the enticing possibilities …

*****

People sometimes look at me like I’m crazy when I confess how much I like Elton John, but you have to understand that I’m not talking about Lion King/Aida/80s and early 90s Elton John when I praise him. Most of that stuff wasn’t even good pop music. But in the 70s, he was brilliant, and some of his most recent records have at least teased at that old style and quality. Now he has released a record called The Cowboy and The Kid that claims to be a sequel to one of his best albums of the seventies – Captain Fantastic and The Brown Dirty Cowboy. And not only is this new record great, I think it’s better than Captain Fantastic. Definitely gets a seal of approval.

I also am feeling the need to pimp Amos Lee as much as possible. His first album has been out for some time, but you still probably haven’t heard it. It’s great. He’s got an acoustic songwriting style that’s reminiscent of folk, but he sings like Otis Redding. And his new album, which comes out next month, is amazingly good stuff. (Uh, a little birdie told me so.)