Super Bowl of Songs

It won't surprise you to learn that, vocally, my three favorite bands are probably Crosby, Stills, and Nash, Yes, and The Eagles. On Super Bowl Sunday, I have decided to have a playoff championship of great rock and roll harmony songs.  My three entries are, in no particular order, “Seven Bridges Road” by the Eagles, “Southern Cross” by Crosby, Stills, and Nash, and “I've Seen All Good People” by Yes.

You can find them here:

            The Eagles’ “Seven Bridges Road”

            https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=grhVbIrwDDg

            Crosby, Stills, and Nash “Southern Cross”

            https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bw9gLjEGJrw

            Yes “I’ve Seen All Good People:

            https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJM7TdshUbw

            Why I love vocal harmony in rock, and why it’s so hard to find

My two musical loves--love of rock and roll and love of great vocal harmony--don’t get along very well. Multiple voices singing together—2, 3, 4, or 5 voices singing in harmony creates this amazing, rich listening experience that touches my soul. It’s probably why I’ve sung in choirs since high school.  

Rock and roll, the soundtrack of my life, doesn’t provide a lot of this kind of singing.  Occasionally you'll have a couple of voices singing together on a song, especially in older stuff like the Beatles, or the occasional duet. Rock and roll usually, though, is about the solo voice, or a solo with backup. Rock and roll rose to success on the star system. You want a person out front-- Jim Morrison or Grace Slick or Scott Stapp or Darius Rucker or Marc McGrath.  Rock and roll with great multi part vocal harmonies are pretty hard to find.

Entry One:  The Eagles

First off is the Eagles’ “Seven Bridges Road.” It was actually written by a country songwriter named Steve Young, who was a driving force in the "Outlaw Country" movement.  So right away, the Eagles lose points because they did not write the song.  Plus the arrangement was by Ian Smith and Mike Naismith (the guy in the Monkees who wore the knit cap all the time), which the Eagles had heard many times.  This means their version is less original.

But that opening, five-part, glorious acapella harmony they all sing:  "There are stars in the southern sky” is one of the best vocal moments in rock and roll. All five of the voices--including Don Henley, Glenn Frey, Don Felder, Timothy Schmit and Joe Walsh-- just hit every note perfectly. They combine to create overtones and harmonics that you just don’t hear in most rock.

Furthermore, this song was never done in the studio, under perfect conditions, in a sound booth with sound engineers  controlling every aspect.  It was always sung live. Apparently, the Eagles were just messing around one day before a concert and all singing into the same mike. They realized they had a good sound, at least in the concrete dressing room.  Then, they walked out and did it live in front of an audience, and the crowd was blown away. After that, they always opened their show with this song.

The entire song was sung in five-part harmony, unlike the others on my list. The instrumentation is also minimal - - the focus is on the vocal singing. Just a little surprisingly subtly but driving Joe Walsh guitar rhythm after the first verse, and that's it for the instrumentation. Just people who like to make music together, singing for the audience in front of them. Ian Smith wound up loving this version, by the way.

Entry Two:  Crosby, Stills, and Nash

Second on the list is “Southern Cross,” by Crosby, Stills, and Nash.  It was written by Stephen Stills, along with the Curtis Brothers. Actually, it was originally a song called “Seven League Boots” by the Curtis Brothers, which had some nice elements to it but was kind of a mess. Stephen Stills contributed heavily to the song, but it was as much a good editing job of a previously existing song as it was original work on his part. Still, the band gets points for being involved in the songwriting, which the Eagles weren't. This was also an original arrangement, and the Eagles used somebody else's.

However, unlike “Seven Bridges Road,” this doesn't open with vocal harmony, and the harmonies are not even evident until part way through the song. “Southern Cross” begins with a highly recognizable rhythm guitar opening performed by David Crosby, and then Stephen Stills begins to sing in what at first appears to be a pretty traditional rock and roll “front man” situation.

After the first verse, though, the fireworks begin. Stills has been singing about taking an ocean voyage to recover from the heartbreak of lost love. Then, the chorus begins:  “I've been around the world,” and the magic happens. Crosby Stills and Nash provide amazing 3 part harmony.  Two of the backup singers on the album are Timothy Schmidt from the Eagles, who also sang on Seven Bridges Road, and Art Garfunkel, of Simon & Garfunkel Fame. Two pretty serious singers to provide some backup!

The rest of the song is amazing, kind of a call and response between Sills, of the trio of him plus Nash and Crosby, and Crosby's rhythm guitar. It is amazing musicianship, and beautiful singing. The harmonies are the most memorable part of the song, but they fit in pretty seamlessly with the vocals and the instrumentation.

Of the three, I have the most powerful emotional response to the lyrics, especially the chorus:

            You understand now why you came this way
            ‘Cause the truth you might be runnin' from is so small
            But it's as big as the promise, the promise of a comin' day

Maybe I react so strongly because I was in the Navy when this song came out, and I remember spending many and night outside on the fantail of the ship thousands of miles from land staring up at the stars and contemplating the vastness of the universe and my own tiny tiny part in it. Or maybe it's because, I have seen the Southern Cross. I was in Zambia, walking back in the dark to where I was staying, looking up and seeing this big constellation that is unmistakable. You've never seen anything like it. Huge. Immediately recognizable. It's actually pretty hard to pick out constellations if no one is showing you how to find them, but you cannot miss of the Southern Cross. And immediately these lyrics came to my head—“When you see the Southern Cross for the first time”--I went back to my where I was staying and immediately called my family back in the States.

Entry Three:  Yes

Third in this entry is Yes, the only one of these bands I have seen live in concert. “I've Seen All Good People” is the oldest song on the list, dating back to 1970. “Yes” was one of the First Progressive Rock, or ProgRock, groups, which deliberately made their lyrics more like poetry, and used more sophisticated instrumentation techniques borrowed from classical music and jazz.

“I’ve Seen All Good People” is also the only fully original song on my list, meaning that it was completely written by members of the band that performed it. It is written by Jon Anderson and Chris Squires, and it features three part harmony with Anderson, Squires, and Steve Howe.

Like the Eagles’ song, “I've Seen All Good People begins with acapella harmony: 

I've seen all good people turn their heads this way
So Satisfied I'm on my way...  .

It has a similar effect to the opening of “Seven Bridges”—beautiful, tight harmony, immediately recognizable. Perhaps because there are fewer voices in the opening to The Eagles song, “All Good People” has fewer overtones and harmonics than you can hear with the Eagles. But this is still beautiful, tight singing.

Like “Southern Cross,” there is a call and response between the harmony, the instrumentation, and the lead vocal. The opening harmonic vocals are immediately followed by a rhythm introduction played on a vachalia, a Portuguese guitar-like instrument that has an ethereal sound... Remember prog-rock is noted for its complex instrumentation.

Then, Anderson's lead vocal dances in and out of the vachalia, and introduces the main metaphor of the song, which compares the complexity of human relationships to a chess game...

            Move me on to any black square
            Use me anytime you want
            Just remember that the goal
            Is for us all to capture all we want 
               (Move me on to any black square)

            Don't surround yourself with yourself
            Move on back two squares
            Send an instant karma to me
            Initial it with loving care

Of the three, these lyrics are the most poetic. Chess is a wonderful metaphor for human relations, and, there’s some real musical cleverness. The last part of the lyric I quoted... “Send an instant Karma to me”... is a nod to John Lennon.  If you listen very, very closely at that point you will hear a tiny bit of the song “Give Peace a Chance” playing beneath it. An early form of sampling. Musical fireworks here.  

The Verdict

So there you have it:  spectacular, pure acapella singing on the part of the Eagles, call and response vocals and instruments with Rock and Roll Hall of Famers singing backup for Crosby Stills and Nash, or spot on harmonies with musically and lyrically complex work from Yes.  How do you choose among the three? I will not cop out, as my students might sometimes do. They say, “It depends on your taste” and don’t answer they question.

Well, I do have taste. It may not be good taste, but it's taste. Here goes.

Number one is Crosby, Stills, and Nash. I just love the way Crosby’s rhythm guitar walks back and forth in between Stills’ solos and the vocal harmonies. Plus the lyrics are the most personally meaning of the three to me.

Number 2 is Yes. There is something magical and otherworldly about the song’s opening harmonies.  I just love chess.  But you will never hear this full song on the radio, because, like most ProgRock, the song istoo long for radio play. 

Number 3 is the Eagles, which surprises me, because even as I'm writing this, I acknowledge this is the best singing of the three. Maybe I vote this way because neither the song nor the arrangement was original, or maybe because, despite the singing, the lyrics are the least interesting (There are stars, but they’re just stars—both of the other two songs take their lyrics to the realm of good metaphor).

I hope you will play along with me, and give me your thoughts.

The Rock Star Next Door

              Tom Petty didn’t look like a rock star.  He wasn’t devastatingly handsome—those goofy buck teeth made sure of that.  He didn’t dress outrageously, and he didn’t strut around arrogantly.  He looked like the kind of guy you’d have a friendly chat with in the checkout line at the local grocery, or the helpful customer who’d help you find the right head light for your car in the endless maze of the auto parts store.  He looked like someone you’d want to talk to.

                Onstage, he was the same way.  I couldn’t tell you how many concerts I saw growing up in El Paso, but the 70s and 80s were a good time for rock and roll and the Pass of the North was a good rock and roll town.  But I can tell you about some of the entrances rockers made—Alice Cooper singing “Welcome to My Nightmare” while people clad as monsters danced on stage, Ted Nugent swinging onstage on a faux vine, ZZ Top and its laser light show, or Aerosmith coming on nearly an hour late with no explanation or apology (sorry, Steven Tyler, love ya, man, but you sucked that night in ’77). 

                Tom Petty just walked onstage and said, “Hello.”  He could have been your neighbor coming over to borrow a lawn mower, or maybe to come over and have a beer.  No pretense, no fuss, no grand entrance.  Just someone who realized that thousands of people had come to the Special Events Center (now the Don Haskins Arena) to hear him play his music, and that they deserved the courtesy of a “hello.”   It was that simple—that genuine connection to fans by a genuine guy.

                Bear in mind that “simple” is the hardest thing in art to do well.  If you write a “simple” song, like the four-chord progression played to the melody of “American Girl,” you have to do it perfectly, or the simple song becomes amateur hour.  But Petty’s simple notes and chords, played in the right way, mixed in with simple, clear words to tell stories become art nearly anyone could relate to.  We all relate to the American girl, “raised on promises,” and, like her, we “couldn’t help thinking there was a little more to life somewhere else.”  When our lives got too much for us, we all wanted to “Leave this world for awhile” and go “Free falling” and “glide down” and away from it all.    When we were in love and the relationship wasn’t going well, many of us thought, “Don’t do me like that,” or wished the other person would “Stop dragging my heart around.”  Simple songs with lyrics that told the stories of our lives—this was one of the reasons Tom Petty was one of the most loved and longest lasting rockers.

                But old Tom’s songs had a built-in secret weapon that was so subtle most people didn’t realize it:  they were written in a key that almost anybody could sing.  Seriously—try this experiment.  Get on Youtube and type in the name of any Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers song—American Girl, Free Fallin’, Don’t do Me Like That, or dozens of others.  Then try and sing along.  You can—you can join Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and sing along with him.  You can participate.   You can be part of the band.  Tom’s musical talent is the not the kind of virtuoso talent that dazzles you and makes you want to stop.  It’s the kind of talent that invites you to join in.

                Now, try and do the same thing with the other Rockers of his era.  Seriously.  Try and sing along with Steven Tyler on Aerosmith’s “Dream On.”  You’ll be visiting an Ear, Nose, and Throat Specialist by this afternoon, ‘cause your voice don’t go that high.  Try and sing along with anything by Ozzie Osborrn, or Alice Cooper or the Who.  Heck—try and sing along with the Beatles in the key they actually wrote the song in.  Don’t drop down an octave—actually try and sing along.  Unless you are a highly trained woman vocalist, or a male who happens to be a high tenor, you can’t sign along with most of the great rock from the 60s, 70s, or much of the 80s. 

                But you can join along with Tom Petty, who wanted you to.  He wrote songs about lives like yours, in tunes you can remember, in a key you can sing in.  That, to me, is the highest level of genius—not the genius that dazzles, that makes me stop in wonder, but the genius that fills me with the shock of recognition, that seems like it’s about my life, or the people I know, that makes me feel a little bit less alone in the world, because Tom Petty had his heart broke, too, and got over it, or Tom Petty knew what it was like to work long hard hours and come home to more work and he wanted to go “Free Fallin’,” just like me.

                I am saddened by Tom Petty’s death.  I’m also profoundly glad that he ever lived, and that I got to hear his songs, and see him in person.  He was the rock star next door, the man whose genius was accessible, whose songs invited me in.  Tom Petty was, in my mind, unique among American rockers, because his genuine humbleness, his friendly nature, and the deceptive simplicity of his fans made his greatness all that easy to overlook.  We shall never see his like again.   

Seasonal Gym Booms (and Busts)

Certain holidays draw more people to the gym. Key dates--New Years, Valentines, holy days--seem to spark the desire to be more fit.

Actually sticking to fitness resolutions is another matter.

New Years triggered a virtual tsunami of gym interest. 2012 began with dozens of new people appearing in Flex Fit Gym, clad in workout togs and clutching water bottles. Nearly every recumbent bike, elliptical machine, and treadmill whirred in a symphony of well intentioned New Year's resolutions. Clank-clank-clanking from the weight room offered the percussion to this musical composition. Bear in mind that this was at 5 am--yep, five am in the morning.

The week after New Year's saw strong gym attendance.

Fewer people came the second week.

By the third week, the cardio room at Flex Fit was very quiet, with only me and three middle aged ladies riding the recumbent bikes, giggling and watching Urkel on Family Matters. I began to develop a great appreciation for the comic genius of Jaleel White, the actor who played Urkel.

New people would come in and out, of course, showing up once or twice or a few times, then, for whatever reason, petering out. There was one particularly entertaining guy who showed up only once.

One day, I was in the weight room and the sudden explosion of noise in the cardio room made me think that livestock had busted in and were mating. Went to see what it was, and a guy about my age, ear buds jammed in, was on a treadmill, shouting encouragement to himself while letting out large grunts of exertion.

Nothing wrong with this, I suppose. But I hoped that, come Spring, his cries wouldn't attract any actual amorous cattle. Or Javenlinas, which have actually been spotted close to where the gym is.

Since he never showed up again, I'm pretty sure a Javelina got him. But I digress.

Valentine's Day tripled the number of women showing up at the gym for the early morning shift. Women at Flex Fit greatly outnumbered the men. I only had two theories to explain it.

1. A really good Valentine's day.
2. A really bad Valentine's day.

Women friends offered other explanations. Marie Rose suggested the cause of the Women's Post-Valentine's Day Gym Boom was chocolate. She said that whether the chocolate was a gift or was "self bought," it "makes to difference to the calories consumed." Thus, "the need for mad working out."


The Denises (Wilks Saltz and Carrell) attributed the Valentine's Boom to crummy V-day gifts. Denise W suggested that "clueless men" probably "gave gym memberships" for the Holiday of Love. Denise C. agreed, noting that a gym membership is a "crummy gift" for the occasion.

Amy Rieger had a common-sense but completely different theory. Valentine's Day is close to Spring Break, which many women "want to look good" for, she said.

Whatever the reason for the Valentine's Day Boom, it brought a lot of women to the gym, women with enough self discipline that they continue to come regularly. Self discipline and commitment are usually character traits I admire.

Usually.

But this wave of self disciplined women brought me the Stair Mistress. She made me realize something bad about myself:

I have become an old codger.

This is not something I'm happy to admit. But, on cardio days prior to the ascent of the Stair Mistress, I had a nice routine--I'd ride the recumbent bike for 30 minutes, and then I'd get on the stair climber. That fateful day, I got done with the bike, turned around, and there she was.

On MY stair climber.

The one I ALWAYS use.

Now, she has as much right to the stair climber as I do. But that day, I was thinking "But that's MY stair climber. I ALWAYS use THAT stair climber after biking."

Bear in mind that there is another, perfectly functional stair climber right next to MY stair climber (the one Stair Mistress was on). But I'd gotten so settled into my routine that, for a moment, my head vapor locked, and I was thinking, "I can't work out. She's on MY machine." I didn't even do stair climbing that day, I was so thrown.

I had tuned into an old fart. The Stair Mistress made me realize that about myself.

BTW, I call her the Stair Mistress because, if anyone deserves to "own" that machine or have her name on it, it is she. She drives herself hard, every day, to the point of near collapse, for a really long time, something like thirty minutes. If you've never actually used a stair climber, 30 minutes is epic, like climbing Kilimanjaro or finishing War and Peace in Russian. Stair Mistress is actually a title of honor. She is the Monarch of the Stair Master.

Fat Tuesday and the beginning of Lent brought about another attendance mini boom. At first, I thought the increase was people working off Fat Tuesday indulgences in food, alcohol, and pancakes (I'm Episcopalian; we pig out on pancakes to prepare for Lent). ingested on Fat Tuesday. But the Lent Boom was a mirage --most of the people who suddenly showed up on the first day of Lent were gone by the weekend.

Stacy Bruce said these Fat Tuesday Fitness Nuts (FTFN) stopped coming because of fasting--they had "no energy for exercise." Yvette Schaffer said that Lent may have first sent people to the gym with a "promise for better living." However, after a while, they "felt guilty" about "making Lent into a vanity project" and either stopped going out of guilt or decided to find a "more lofty" thing to do for lent.

Several people suggested that Amy was right in the first place--it's about looking good in the swim suit for Spring Break. If so, that's a concern of the young--it's been so long since I've looked good in a swim suit that I don't even remember what it was like.

Nope, I go to the beach--I live twenty minutes from the beaches of Padre--and expose the world to my big belly and my back hair, most of which is now grey. If the svelte who actually look good in swim suits are offended, well, they don't have to look. I'm so busy chasing after my kindergartner that I don't have time to check out other people's swimsuit fashion, anyway.

But all of theses Seasonal Gym Booms, and the busts that inevitably follow, have made me wonder why some people "stick" at the gym and why most people don't. And why I have stuck at the gym when most people haven't.

I have been out of shape for a LONG time. My pot belly is old enough to vote, own a house, and buy alcohol in any state in the union. If you had to pick a random person off the street and name them "Least likely to stick to a fitness program," your eyes would be drawn to me. "HIM," you would say, pointing your finger at me like a witness identifying a criminal in the courtroom. "The fat bald one with the grey beard."

So when I notice which people come to the gym for a while and stop, and which ones stick, I am NOT judging. I have more failed fitness plans than there are amendments to the US Constitution. I admire anyone for trying to come to the gym. I sympathize with people who start, stop, come back, and then stop and start again (like Fauxhawk Guys). I really respect people who commit and come to the gym every day, like Latino Fabio and the Stair Mistress.


Eric McClellan, a friend who is a former college football player now struggling with weight, tells me that "People go to the gym for the wrong reasons." These wrong reasons usually include trying to "look good" for a spouse or someone else they are romantically interested in, or trying to change the way "other people view them." He says the only reason to go to the gym is for yourself.


I'd like to believe that Eric is right--that I have achieved some kind of Zen like state of "inner self actualization," that I have such inner peace that I am going to the gym for me. But in my case, the answer to why I am still working out after so many failed attempts is more simple.

It's the damned dog's fault.

Yep, Crazy Daisy, the Most Irritatingly Peppy Beagle in the Universe, keeps getting me up at five in the morning, demanding to be walked. She's learned a little patience--she may give me ten, twenty seconds after the alarm goes off. If I fail to get up, she trims my cuticles with her teeth.

She continues the Teeth Cuticle Trim, interspersing it with licking the most ticklish parts of my toes, until my feet are safely encased in athletic shoes. If I try and cheat by laying back down wearing shoes or just opening the back door and hoping she'll go out back and pee, she jumps on me, then bites the toes of my running shoes, still trying to trim the toenails through the fabric.

If I just give in to the inevitable and just walk her and Pearl the Seventy Pound German Shepherd, Daisy stops nipping my toes and goes back to sleep. She only nips me 'til I get up and walk her and Pearl (although I doubt she really cares if I take Pearl along).

By the end of my walk, I'm semi awake, dressed, and it's still five o'clock in the friggin' morning. So, I think, I might as well go to the gym.

Daisy is the reason that this try at fitness has succeeded after dozens of others have failed. I don't know if I ought to thank her, or make her start sleeping outside.