...to the Sublime

The Shock of a Well-Known Fact

I was recently reading this New Yorker blog post about Robert Gordon's new book on Stax Records when I came across the matter-of-fact line that Otis Redding was 26 years old when he died. Now, I knew Redding was young when he perished in that plane wreck along with his backing band, the Bar-Kays. But 26?!?! I always assumed he was somewhat older because of his looks and THAT VOICE. That gritty, lived-in wonder of a voice. A true manchild, gone to the promised land way too early.

(I can't confirm, but the video was said to have been taped the day before he died.)\

 

Spring Is Here...

Sorry for the radio silence from Sublime HQ. Wish I could say it was because I've been doing Spring cleaning. Speaking of Spring...I'm a little late for the advent of the season when all things bloom anew and hope springs eternal (time to re-read Tom Boswell's "Why Time Begins on Opening Day"). Anyway...to make up for my absence, here's a Spring double-play, starting with Carly Simon's version of a Rodgers & Hart classic (beautiful orchestration by Marty Paich), followed by Rickie Lee Jones' take on a bittersweet standard by the husband-wife team of Tommy Wolf & Fran Landesman. (That's Charlie Haden on the bass.)

Download 08 Spring Is Here

Download 02 Spring Can Really Hang You Up The Most

 

 

Brother Ray, In a Roundabout Way

I've recently been on a bit of a Bob Dylan jag that started, I suppose, when I saw former Dylan running buddy Bob Neuwirth perform (see previous post), and then continued when I interviewed Bob Hilburn about his excellent Johnny Cash biography. Cash and Dylan had a mutual admiration society that included a riveting appearance by Dylan on Cash's TV show. Anyway...I just started reading Greil Marcus' collected writings about Dylan and it's led to all sorts of tangents. Like the time when Marcus went to Scorsese's house to watch a preview of "The Last Waltz," the concert film Scorsese directed about The Band's swan song concert (in which Dylan perfomed). After they watch the film, Scorsese and Robbie Robertson would rather talk about anything else but. Marcus writes:

Scorsese pulls out a Ray Charles album; the song he wants us to hear is "What Would I Do Without You," from 1957. It's a slow, tragic blues ballad; there's the assumption of a happy ending, or at least of resolution, in the lyrics, but not in Ray Charles' singing. "Leave out a few Billie Holiday tunes, and there's more heroin in that music than in anything you'll ever hear," Robertson says. "Heroin does something to your throat. It makes the voice thicker. Listen."

And so I did, for the first time in a while. And so should you.

Download 05 What Would I Do Without You