Singleversity #52

Audiversity’s weekly column on music we stumble across during our sonic adventures. No random numbers, just straight audio goodness.

MA:



Drunken dialogue is a thing of both sheer embarrassment and protean beauty. It ebbs and flows between grandiose pontification and petty sarcasm, creating a rather malleable cadence between conversationalists that has a certain charm to it. Within a group of witty personalities, the banter can become a poignant, unpredictable free-flow of individual ideas and mental competitiveness. I hear this same kind of fluid idealism in the Joe Chambers piece "Idle While" from the Bobby Hutcherson-led Dialogue (Blue Note 1965). Each player on the session – Chambers, Hutcherson, Freddie Hubbard, Sam Rivers, Andrew Hill, and Richard Davis – takes a turn adding his two cents after the wobbly opening chorus, which behind Hubbard’s muted trumpet and Rivers’ wispy flute, sounds a lot like what was playing in my head during my drunken stumble from the bar last night. Each of the highly regarded post-bop players give calm, contemplative solos that aren’t as much straight technical workouts as freer, more conversational lines. I’d be interested to know under what circumstances this session took place, because the music is just so relaxed, dim-lit, idiomatic and amiable that it’s intoxicating.

PM:

So I did it. I finally went and became one of the white earbuds set and got myself an iPod. This 4-gig bad boy seemed like a good idea when I heard the deal, so I threw down the necessary guineas and florins for it and came up with something to keep me awake at work in the down time between emails to CEOs (or, more usually, their secretaries). I loaded a bunch of stuff onto it earlier this week and would've posted the first song I ever played, but Michael already did that with Alice Coltrane's "Journey in Satchidananda" two years ago, so tough luck for you.

After a few days, I realized I still wasn't confident in public even though it was loaded with [what I think are] great tunes. My only problem with this thing is the color. It's pink. Not even Boris pink or ironic scene-circa-'02 pink or fuschia or magenta; this motherfucker begs for a Bedazzling by a bunch of overenthused 13-year-old girls at a Friday night sleepover. Not that color matters, but pink really isn't one of my favorite colors. Never has been. Just don't like it. Pink and maybe brown. I don't like brown, either. Anyway, I found a typically cheap solution yesterday to the lack of masculinity in my portable music player: I deleted everything that was on it and replaced it with a comprehensive discography of The Jesus Lizard.



The Jesus Lizard are, as best I can tell, the most masculine band in the history of music. But even their seven LPs and numerous addenda aren't enough for a nine-hour workday. For variety's sake, I added Young Widows, who have by now frightened away any Breather Resist hangers-on. They drink beer, they wear flannel, they're from Louisville, their name is fucking Young Widows. Not enough? Maybe "The Charmers" live from 2006's Jade Tree debut Settle Down City will sell you. This particular jingle comes from a hometown performance at Headliners the night Duane Denison laughed to meet his once-a-year quota while dozens of innocent civilians cried in fear. Actually, that's every night. The Jesus Lizard as the Chuck Norris Wolf of music, can I get an amen?