Found some old notes I’d written about my favorite Jude Cole album. Twelve years ago, actually. Much has changed. Like, now I’m happy. Also, I’ve seen Madison.
Speed of Life — only one I’ve heard on the radio. Great tune, fascinating mental imagery. I have a live version recorded in some radio studio, too.
Believe In Me — “I may not make a million dollars, but a million dollars won’t make me.” He sure knows how to write. Simple tune with wonderful lyrics.
Move if You’re Going — not my favorite music, but it’s about getting on with your life after tragedy. I listen for the lyrics.
Lowlife — not what it sounds like. He writes lots of musical prayers. I sing ‘em real loud.
Joe — oh so scary song about a perfectly normal guy; except he’s having an affair with his neighbor’s wife while he beats his own; wishes his kids would just leave him alone, and ends with him sitting in the basement holding a Purple Heart and a loaded gun. I’m almost crying writing this; at my lowest times, this song really really helped me not to end it all, and I don’t know how or why. Kiefer Sutherland, who loaned Jude his guitar to record his very first album with, does some of the vocals. Listen with headphones in a dark room. It’s a deeply moving song for me.
Sheila Don’t Remember — he really doesn’t understand why this girl he had a one-night-stand with doesn’t even remember him. I’ve looked for something deeper, but I haven’t found it.
Take The Reins — when you let others control your life, your heart, your mind, you’re in trouble. Take it back, ’cause no matter how hard it is, it can’t hurt the way it does right now
Madison — I have no idea what this is about, but it sounds like a ‘never going back’ tune. I was born in Wisconsin, but I’ve never even seen Madison.
Hole at the top of the World — another sad song about a dead marriage. For a happily married guy, he sure nails the feelings.
Heaven’s Last Attempt — a gentle but powerful song about how the right kind of love might save your life. Or, might not.
Best Beloved took me to see Leftover Cuties Wednesday night at the Dakota Jazz Club in Minneapolis. Actually, we saw the cutest cutie three times, not just once.
Stopped at the light at 10th and Nicollet, I watched Shirli cross the street, a pair of high (really high) heels in one hand.
As she stepped to the curb on the northwest side of the intersection I thought, Shirli . . . Shirli. Wait. I just watched Shirli McAllen cross the street.
I felt like I should run after her an apologize for not saying hello. (She later told me “You should have!”) As we were seated at our table near the stage, there she was again, scooting between the tables toward the backstage rooms. I started to stand and apologize for my earlier rudeness, but she was just too quick.
Leftover Cuties are the kind of band which feels like you really ought to run after them and say hello. (continued)
alling far outside the swingabilly world, Paul “hoopshank” Turrell is irresistible. How can you resist someone who writes a song about what a really big number a billion is, and turns it into something between Led Zeppelin and Yes? (continued)
erky, yet crunchy. Or is it crunchy, yet perky? And oh, look! It’s 70s slide guitar, in the best possible sense. “I’ll sell you dreams you never knew you wanted . . . ”
Yep; it’s Goodtimes Goodtimes once again. I swear, Franc puts something in your tea that’s instantly addicting. I have, in my 50 years of constant ingestion, heard a lot o’ music. The Fortune Teller Song is one of that rare breed that has my feet tapping and head bobbing simultaneously, and that’s even during the third repeat. (I also love that the opening guitar riff is, um, an ‘homage’ [as in, lifted directly] from the Smith’s How Soon is Now?.)