RID OF ME / I'LL STAND BY YOU (P.J. HARVEY, THE PRETENDERS).

I ran across an old mix CD I made a decade ago that featured some intriguing sequencing; not least of which was my possibly enlightened choice to place PJ Harvey's Rid of Me directly next to The Pretenders' Stand by You. Gotta say, pretty killer 1-2 punch. Fierce, fierce, and everything in between. I got a thing for fierce-spirited women; I heart rock and roll. ____ #44music #thepretenders #pjharvey #vancouverwa #motorcycles #chrissiehynde

A photo posted by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Mar 30, 2016 at 8:23am PDT

PJ Harvey
Rid of Me
Rid of Me
2001



the Pretenders
I'll Stand By You
Last of the Independents
1994



ALSO, PATIENCE IS...

...taking two months to finish the last five episodes of the final season of Breaking Bad.

Shhh!

BIRTHDAY #35 : COUNTESS BECCA

BECCA, PT. I.
One way that I easily remember my wife's birthday every year is that it is exactly one week before Linda Hamillton's (a.k.a. Sarah Connor from The Terminator). Also, her birthday is seven days before mine. Other cinematic heroines that remind me, in specific ways, of her: Amelie from Amelie, Ripley from Aliens, Jamie Lee Curtis from True Lies, Grace Kelly from everything, MacGyver, Frank from Old School, The Bride from Kill Bill, that one French girl from that other Tarantino film, George Michael from Arrested Development, Tina Fey in general, Elastigirl from the Incredibles...a little bit of all the best things in the universe.


Polyphonic Spree's Soldier Girl reminds me of her too.

She makes my head spin around.


Happy birthday, Girl.

____

The Polyphonic Spree
Soldier Girl
The Beginning Stages of...

2002

BECCA, PT. II.

When I was a guest teacher* in Southern California years ago, I was ganged up on by a gang of trying-hard-to-be-gangsters and the room went dark and madness erupted -

- but that is another story. The point is that being a parent with my wife has given her the opportunity to join a gang too. The gang that is our children, and that frequently gangs up on me. She has the opportunity to join that gang frequently and sometimes she does. But sometimes she doesn't, and she is on my side as we battle a seven- and four-year old duo of gangsters, and when she's on my side, it's more even, so I am appreciative for those times when we can gang up on the gang together. We have gone through the fire together - not literally, though I have badly burned my finger before - but rather the fire of parenting (I prefer the other term I coined: childrening, which puts the responsibility and blame where it should be), and it is generally more enjoyable to be on a team with someone who is on your team. Or gang. One example would be how our children inexplicably loathe Leonard Cohen. She could take their side, and curry favor, but she has stood steadfast next to me and blasted Who By Fire next to me as they groaned and grumbled and we laughed as the flames burned around us (that 'through fire' thing, not real fire, otherwise I would have called the firefighting gang). Leonard is such a masterful old poetic gangster, and I'm glad to not be married to him, but rather, to someone who is not like him, but likes him. Respect.

Happy birthday, OG Becca.

____

Leonard Cohen
Who By Fire
New Skin for the Old Ceremony
1974

*a more elegant term the district insisted on calling its substitute teachers




BECCA, PT. III.

Technically, most people don't think of me as a scientist, per se. But ever since my wife gave me one of her old white lab coats, I tend to think of myself as almost one. And in a sense, I am, because I am wearing a lab coat that almost fits, and I truly am interested in quantum mechanics, time travel, reading quotes by Albert Einstein, and watching Fringe. But in my heart, I know that technically I will never be offered a teaching position at MIT. And I think that maybe my wife is resigned to the fact that I'll never be a prize-winning scientist, but - and this is what I love about her - she has never discouraged me from wearing the old lab coat that doesn't fit me very well, because she knows it makes me happy to wear it, and that in a way, it does possibly bring her happiness to feel that she's married to a successful scientist working on the fringes of science, but then we both know at the end of the day I'm not actually a technical scientist: I'm just a mid-sized guy with good posture and poor eyesight who believes that science is real and that space travel is truly possible. She sees that glimmer of possibility in me, that underneath the ill fitting lab coat, there beats the heart of a scientist, if not the brain. And I know that everything is possible.


BECCA, PT. IV.

There's a few regrets I have in life, probably the biggest being that I didn't invest in Apple stock in the early '80s. To be fair, I was five or six years old, but still, no excuses. And sometimes there's partial regrets, like experiencing something really cool, but not having someone with you who you know would really enjoy it, like when I went to see Mercury Rev in L.A. a decade ago and it turned out to be one of my favourite shows ever, or going to see Alt-j last year, and it turned out to be fantastic, and I know Becca would have loved both, but she didn't go because of reasons that are vague to history (Studying? Work? Children?). But she wanted me to go, and she wanted me to have a good time, and she was happy for how much I enjoyed both. So I think what I learned from that is this: try not to ever miss out on anything really cool, and maybe just bring the children too. And also, try to be genuinely happy for other people when good things happen to them. Like she was for me. A good lesson. No more ragrets.

Happy b-day weekend, Countess.

____

Still get goosebumps over Mercury Rev's The Dark Is Rising.

Mercury Rev
The Dark Is Rising
All Is Dream

2001






BECCA, PT. V.

We fell in love at a bakery, at least I did. She worked there; the early morning shift at the small town bakery. I studied at a table with an eyeline to the front counter. I thought I was going to study and get a free bagel once in a while, but then (like I said) I accidentally fell into love so sometimes things happen that you're unaware are happening until afterwards; at which point you have to go back and try to understand history and break things down, like economists do after market crashes retroactively to make themselves sound prescient. Unfortunately, this was pre-smartphone, pre-Instagram, pre-everyone flashing around cameras for no reason so I never usually thought in terms of capturing those early morning bakery rendezvouses. It just exists in our donut-foggy memories. I wish we had one picture of me with my head down studying in the corner, and her behind the counter surreptitiously checking me out. That's a moment I wish we had recorded. Also, I left her a $500* tip once. I've wondered what she did with that. She wore an apron and played good music: Ben Harper, Bob Dylan, Stevie Wonder. One day I finally said I Like You, but it took me 90 minutes to get through that three-word sentence; maybe it's a plus for me that I'll never have to wonder if that conversation is floating around in a digital cloud somewhere.

I love tracking history with technology and freezing moments for eternity**, but sometimes there's satisfaction in knowing that reality will never collide with our personal mythology & history and that I can keep all the great moments intact with my imagination, unencumbered by the brutality of frozen actuality.

Happy birthday, Barista Becca. I lost my 4.0***, but got some decent coffee and a bride. Wouldn't trade.

____

The Raveonettes
Remember
Chain Gang of Love
2003

*$10

**EMP issues aside

***technically, was already lost. Again though, I prefer the romanticized Faustian notion that I traded my GPA for love.

FALLIN' (ALICIA KEYS + BUSTA RHYMES).

Fallin'. Alicia Keys with a side of Busta Rhymes.

Twelve years ago I heard it for the first time and knew it was good, but didn't realise until yesterday that it really is the best song I have ever heard in my entire life. Spine-tingly romantic and full of fresh bluesy soul.

Probably the greatest song ever, on this gray afternoon with lakes falling from the sky.

Alicia Keys f. Busta Rhymes

Fallin'

songs in A minor

2001

IS THIS IT : TWO SISTERS AND THREE OTHER PIECES OF ADVICE BY ME AND THE STROKES.

Couple weeks ago, my sister called me up. She said: wanna go to a movie? On me?

I said: Uhh, yeah.

So we went to see Skyfall, the newest Bond, in which 007 again performs incredible feats of daring and romance while keeping intact his Tom Ford suit and dark wit.

Also (this was at Cinetopia, the most luxurious movie theater in the galaxy), she got us popcorn, fries, and Caesar salad, and we watched some really good trailers, including one for a Tom Cruise film that looks as if there will be many broken bones, yet apparently is squeaking by with a PG13. Anyway. Skyfall was a magnificent experience, and it was not my birthday. It was just another ordinary day made extra.


Leanna, early- to mid-1980s

Walked into my classroom last Monday and a student brought a latte up to me: "Your sister left this for you."


Lanessa, June 2000 (4.5 years old)

This is the amazing part: this was a different sister. A totally different one. And it was the third time this year that she has pulled a stunt like that. Brought me coffee at school, and it has happened on the most perfect mornings when my eyes were bleary from being a semi-successful media mogul working many late nights and getting up too early to also help educate young minds.

If you have done the math, you may have counted two. Two sisters. Not one. Two. Which leads me to a few pieces of life advice:

1. Drink a lot of water every day. Try adding some lemon.
2. Listen to a lot of music every day. Work in some Rachmaninov and Mates of State.
3. Give people your attention when they're talking to you.
4. Try to get two sisters like the ones above (these ones are not available as sisters).

As a rule, I find the pursuit of perfection better left to folks like Michelangelo and Usain Bolt. It's more challenging to find adventure when you're doggedly on a single path with horsey flaps over your eyes. Probably a good thing sometimes. I have so much more fun though pursuing the ecstatic messiness of falling and failing.

So perfection is like a casual perk that falls into your lap once in a while, like a couple sisters who are perfect - not perfect in an absolute sense as human beings, because, for example, one of my sisters forgets to charge her phone every night - but perfect for me, in a relative sense, with their role as my siblings, in which they treat me to pleasant treats and hug big.

Also, other bits of perfection that I have accidentally discovered are the enchiladas of Micael Serrano, the cardamom bread of Matt Westermeyer, and the drumming of Fabrizio Moretti, the Strokes percussionist. On the title track of their 2001 debut Is This It, his robot-with-a-heart drumming lugs the droll song along like a split cupcake of Anthem and Ballad. Perfection. Greatest Song Ever. Definitely.


November 2006

I wonder what today would be like if I had a third sister?

The Strokes
Is This It
Is This It
2001

JEREMY AND JIMMY IN THE MIDDLE.

There are different ways to go from last to first in a race. One way that I've heard of is to be faster than everyone else. My personal preference is to start running really fast the other direction and invent my own race. It's a good way to be a winner.

This morning I admonished my classes about the dark side of perfection.

I am not fond of it, as it is often bane of the creative process.

You get paralyzed by indecision;
frozen with the idea that you have to do something absolutely correct;
stopped in your tracks by a fear of failing.

And all because of that lousy pursuit of Perfection, of trying to achieve what is usually somebody ELSE'S IDEA of flawless, instead of pursuing your own definition of beauty and achievement through uniqueness. You gotta stumble. And when you're so focused on perfection, you're never gonna stumble.

"Just try your best, try everything you can.
And don't you worry what they tell themselves when you're away." 

I had forgotten (until now) that Jimmy Eat World actually wrote a song about this. 2001's The Middle is probably the best pep talk song EVER about being your own person, and personally (I haven't told Becca yet) we'll be blasting this 3-4 times every morning from now through Christmas, just to remind us to, umm, be ourselves. In case we forget. It is so amazing how these guys managed to pack the most encouraging high school anthem ever into the catchiest guitar riff ever.

"You know you're doing better on your own, so don't buy in.
Live right now.
Yeah, just be yourself.
It doesn't matter if it's good enough for someone else."

Yep. Funny thing is that The Middle is all about being yourself and being alright with standing alone and not comparing yourself to others, yet it somehow managed to achieve three minutes of absolute pop perfection that makes it a better song than pretty much anything ever written, ever. Probably the Greatest Song Ever. Which makes it a perfect song for today, which is the birth-day of one of my favourite people ever, Jeremy M. Long.

Happy birth-day, Jeremy. You are a walking, breathing version of The Middle.

****

Jimmy Eat World
The Middle
Bleed American
2001

SYSTEM OF A BLUES ON A DOWN.

A while back, I was on a work trip in Louisiana and Texas. My colleague and I were driving an RV to a number of hospitals and putting together a series of short videos for a regional health care system. Fantastic trip, loads of fun, great guy. We took turns driving.

I remember driving one night and quietly playing System of a Down on the RV's front speakers. Jeffrey, my buddy, came up from the back bedroom where he had been resting and asked if everything was okay.

Yeah, I'm good. Why do you ask?

- Are you feeling…aggressive?

No…why?

- What's with the angry music?

I smiled.

I just like it. I said. I'm not angry. I'm not depressed. I'm not in a bad mood. I just feel like listening to some crazy Armenians play experimental metal in odd time signatures.

Don't worry, I'm not mad. At you, or anyone else.

He patted my shoulder and returned to the back.

That's the kind of guy he was. And is. He cared enough to check on me, which I really appreciate. This is in no way making fun of his concern over my well-being. That's what friends do.

I still like loud music. We have family danceoffs to the Chemical Brothers. And I am guessing there are few households on the West Coast who blast Rachmaninov on vinyl as exuberantly as we do (within safe hearing limits, of course :)

I don't listen to System of a Down a whole lot these days, but I still enjoy them occasionally. Their head bouncing, insanely charged brand of heaviness unfairly got tagged with the 'nu-metal' label of the early '00s, but make no mistake: there was and is no other band quite like them.

Sometimes, music does match your mood. You're sad, so you listen to David Gray. You're angry, so you listen to Deftones. You feel especially hip, you listen to Jay-Z :) Et cetera. But sometimes there's no relationship between your gut emotional state and the music you soundtrack the moment with. And no reason for good friends to be worried. But it's still nice when they check in with you to make sure.

There's two schools of thought when it comes to inquiring about people's well-being (or approaching them when something awful in their life has just occurred). One is the "if something's wrong and they want to talk about it, then they'll let me know, so I won't bother them unless they decide to tell me" approach.

The other is the "hey, I care about this person and if I think something might be wrong, I'll ask them and proactively make sure they're okay." This is the one I like. The one that people like my Mom and other people I admire subscribe to.

Our daughter wants to start playing the piano and the cello, like her Aunt Lanessa. Our son is huge into percussion - his drumsticks accompany him everywhere, sunup to sundown. Maybe they'll start a jazz combo one of these days. Or maybe they'll play alongside each other in an experimental thrash metal band. Who knows. As long as there is love in their hearts and joy splattered across their faces, and as long as they remember to be the kind of people who ask others how they're doing, like my friend Jeffrey.

Right now, I am listening to Queens of the Stone Age and I am in such a wonderful mood, and I just smiled at a stranger while listening to the desert metalscreamers chug their way through Millionaire.

But they're no System of a Down. Nope. Prison Song = Greatest Song Ever.

System of a Down

Prison Song
Toxicity
2001

RELATIVE WAYS (GREATEST SONG EVER).

I've thought a lot about all the things I'm going to do with my daughter. Like cooking and teaching her how to use a chainsaw. Close to the top of the charts, I relish the thought of teaching her the basics of music appreciation and how to make meaningful lists of the Top 14 Songs to listen to when you're driving in the rain on I-90 in November.* And I have to tell you, I have just been so blessed with listening to "...And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead" during these pregnancy months.

They have brought so much joy to my eyes and rock 'n roll to my heart. I am filled with love for my daughter and aggression for the world.

Relative Ways: one of the Top 100 Songs of All Time. Possibly the Greatest Song Ever.

Also, I should probably teach myself how to use a chainsaw first.