Afterwards

Yeah…I was supposed to finish this riveting anecdote in Sept. ’14…couple of things got in the way…sorry…See the September '14 post in the Blog Archive for the background.

So, we left the story as I assessed the pros and cons of forgoing the big weekend drunk and buying the album, Astral Weeks, at the suggestion of Wild Eyed Fred, and as it turned out, he didn’t need to take a shit; he needed a cigarette.

I bought the album, scurried to The House, and….oh wait….you don’t know about The House…allow me to enlighten you.

The House was a “stately Wayne Manor,” white two-story frat house in Baton Rouge, La. The architecture wasn’t gothic, and there was no cave underneath the House…imagine a cave in south Louisiana…so maybe not “stately Wayne Manor.”  But the inhabitants were every bit as looney as the weekly characters on the Batman  TV show of the 60s.  More on that in another post if I decide to break a couple of oaths about the secret room.

Most of the time there was a real hullabaloo in The House…swearing, poker playing, tall tale telling, tobacco chewing, guitar playing, beer swilling, and whatnot (studying for exams) but on Friday afternoons, right before TGIF and dinner, there was a bit of time when all was still.

I lived up on the second floor and in the fall, a little breeze would blow through the broken window of my room.  Shafts of sunlight would illuminate the motes of dust that always seemed about since I hadn’t yet taken Dusting 101, and the breeze would send the motes swirling and dancing…about as perfect a listening environment as one would wish for in a Baton Rouge frat house.

Not really expecting much, I put the record on my Panasonic 8 Track-AM/FM stereo radio-turntable, picked up the album cover as is my want and bit one of the album cover corners. I know that’s weird, but that was my “mark.”  I checked out the back of the cover and saw that the sides were not kosher:  naming conventions weren’t followed…convention dictated that there was a “Side 1” and a “Side 2.”  Here you had “In the Beginning” and “Afterwards.”

Munching on that album non-conformity hors d’oevre, the opening track started playing, and I heard, nay FELT, the opening bass line of the title track, “Astral Weeks.”  With that Richard Davis bass line, it seemed that all the youthful cynicism that had accumulated and calcified over time turned to dust, blew away and joined those swirling, dancing motes.

There’s not much to say about that album that others have said more eloquently than I: the music, the musicians who backed up Van, the meanings of the songs and the recording sessions themselves. Regardless, I do want to share some thoughts on the track that meant the most to me, “Sweet Thing.”

Next Month’s Post:  “Sweet Thing”

In the Beginning

I do remember who told me about the singer and the album even though a new generation has come into being since that day.  The album title...I didn’t know what the heck it meant.  The only time I’d ever come across one of the words was while reading Marvel’s Dr. Strange...and I wasn’t a big fan of that comic..too surreal for me. So, I wasn’t really inclined to act on the suggestion of Wild Eyed Fred...

I remember where I bought the album/vinyl/ 33 1/3 rpm phonograph record--Leisure Landing, THE record store right outside the North Gates of LSU on West Chimes Street in Baton Rouge, La.  Some of the folks who worked there also played in a band called, “The Shitdogs,” but despite that affiliation, they were an affable lot...knew a LOT about music and were more than willing to help a music newbie out in the “I want to check something new out, whatcha got?” department.

So there I was on a Friday afternoon, talking to a guy I had privately nicknamed, “Wild Eye Fred,” on account of his lazy eye.  He was borderline rotund with tight, curly long hair that he parted down the middle.  Must have been about 5’6” or 5’7” and usually wore a short sleeve T with something provocative printed on the front. Fred looked like he had just rolled out of bed and his hygiene...let’s just say his breath was not sweet and leave it at that.  Anyway...I told WEF that I wasn’t into the late 70s early 80s stuff that passed for pop music on many Baton Rouge radio stations.  It was pap music from the likes of Survivor (yeah at LSU we heard, “Eye of the Tiger” a hell of a lot) and a thousand bands playing Disco.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve since embraced Disco and do occasionally allow the Inner Rhythm King to make his presence known when I’m waiting for the dogs to “get busy” in the dog run at 10 o’clock at night. But at the time, I was not so enlightened.

Fred and I stood next to the M section in the store.  I droned on about my likes and dislikes of contemporary Pop while he nodded, rummaged around in the section and thumbed through the records (the original multi-tasker was Fred).  He came upon an album and said, “Hey man, you might want to check this guy out,” and handed me the LP.  

I looked at the album art and was not impressed.  Yeah, the font was sort of cool, but the guy in the picture didn’t have the typical rock/pop star mien,  Also, his name....it wasn’t that memorable and there was already a dude back in the 60s that had a similar last name, and while I liked that singer’s group, I wanted something I had not yet heard.  

I checked out the song titles on the back of the album and noticed one thing right off the bat...many of the songs were pretty damn long...7 -9 minutes.  I began feeling a little queasy about spending the “textbook” dollars my dad had given me on a “concept” record -- not because I thought it a crumby thing to do with those educational dollars...buy a record. No, I had already done the mental calculus and figured that I was either going to have to give the sad goodbye to the big drunk I had planned for later that evening or skip a meal on Saturday since I had already spent most of my weekend meal money, and it was only Friday afternoon. 

Bummer.

But hey, I would work on that dilemma later, because I noticed Wild Eye Fred’s good eye was starting to twitch, which to me meant that either he wanted to go on break because he was seriously Jonesing for a cigarette, or he had to take a shit.  

I reviewed the situation:

• I realized that he was waiting on me to make a decision about the album

• I did not wish to keep him in suspense any longer because,

• I was not interested in learning if he needed a cigarette or needed to take a shit

And that’s how I came to buy Astral Weeks by Van Morrison.

Next Month’s Post:  Afterwards (the rest of the story…)

Hard Eight now on iTunes

The last in the three album arc, Hard Eight, is now on itunes and available for download (Hard Eight in iTunes).

Hard Eight is an eight-song cycle of some inner wanderings and real life travels I undertook from 2010 through 2012.  I recorded much of the work in Redmond, WA and Dallas, TX in 2012 and 2013.  Five of the eight are original works, two are traditional songs, and there is one cover of a Dylan tune.

Take a listen, let me know what you like and don't like...that will help me in the next album.

Thanks,

jc

Pietism & Bach

The early eighteenth century was a period of relative tranquility in Western Europe compared to the seventeenth century and the religious and political upheavals of the 30 Years’ War.  In Protestant Germany, the question of the necessity for intercession and entreaty between God and Man, by agent or agency, had been answered with the evolution of Luther’s teachings through the development of Pietism.  Routley writes (1967) that in Germany, Pietism was “…an intensely individual piety without any ‘fighting’ qualities of doctrine” (p. 154). The individual could become one with God through direct, spiritual prayer and atonement without fear of persecution.

Perhaps this notion of atonement, the attempt by Man to become one with God through personal petition, influences and informs many of Bach’s works, for it is within the setting of Pietism that Bach “…lived but to worship God and write music” (Cross & Ewen 1969, p. 22).  In the years between 1718 and 1723, he merged both of these endeavors while serving as Kapellmeiser and director of chamber music at the court of Prince Leopold of Anhalt in Cöhen and writing Six Suites for Unaccompanied Cello.  One example from that work that illustrates Pietism’s central tenet, the individual’s determined, personal effort to reach God, is Bach’s Prelude of Suite No.1 in G Major, BWV 1007.  

A single musical voice sounds throughout the work’s forty-two measures, consisting of sixteenth notes with few exceptions.  A low bass note, repeated in every eight-note arpeggio, may represent the inertia of physical existence, from which the individual must break free in order to reach God, while the higher notes of the series suggest the attempt by Man to break earthly bonds and reach God. The difference between the lowest and highest notes of each arpeggio is great, and this difference implies that there is a gulf, a separation between Man and God, which Man attempts to bridge. By measure five, the bonds are almost broken, and Man gradually ascends to the spiritual plane of God as the musical pattern ascends in pitch.  

As the work continues, the melodic line occasionally falls back to the lower register of the work’s beginning, hinting that Man’s struggle to become one with God may ultimately fail.  Near the end of the piece, intensity and tension increase as the cello’s bow moves rapidly and aggressively across its strings and mimics the considerable effort required to bridge the gulf.  

As I listen to the work, I wonder if Bach is suggesting that the earthly bonds that ground man in physical existence are too strong to be broken by Man’s effort alone.  Perhaps, the gulf is too broad to cross without intercession by external agent or agency.  But Bach provides resolution to my concerns in the last measure’s final chord, which consists of the low bass note heard in the beginning of the work and two notes at a much higher pitch. A second instrument (agent) does not assist in the struggle to bridge the gulf.  Instead, the three notes that compose the G major chord are played by cello alone, the single voice of the work, and I better comprehend Pietism and atonement; Man reaches up to God, and God reaches down to Man. God and Man are joined in that final chord.

References

Routley, E. (1967). The church and music. London: Gerald Duckworth & Co. LTD.

Cross, M., & Ewen, D. (Eds.). (1969). The milton cross new encyclopedia of the great composers and their music (Vol. 1). Garden City: Doubleday & Company, Inc.