Finally, More on BUCOW*

* "Bands Unfairly Categorized as One-hit Wonders" (see previous post for explanation).

Crowded House - "Don't Dream it's Over"

Last month, I had the privilege of seeing Crowded House perform live at Bowery Ballroom, possibly my favorite NYC venue. I had seen them 5 or 6 times before, in different incarnations, but Bowery was the most intimate of venues. Seriously, on their 2007 tour, I saw them at a beautiful, but huge, theater in Oakland, CA. This was infinitely better.

CH shows are typically packed with loyal fans who sing along with every tune, not just their big hit, "Don't Dream it's Over" (which, I've been surprised to notice at their shows, is the second-biggest sing-along of the night, after "Weather With You.") Neil Finn and Co. engage in witty banter among themselves and have a fantastic rapport with their audience--better than nearly any live act I've seen.

I'd been a fan of Split Enz since 1981, when my brother and I got this awesome compilation LP called "The Beat (New Wave Hits)" or something like that. I seem to remember us getting it for free, as some kind of promo. Anyway, it included the Split Enz gem, "I Got You." And we played the effing CRAP out of that record. Seriously, the sleeve was so worn out it looked like we'd run it through the dishwasher. Along with Split Enz, the track listing included Billy Idol - "Hot Child in the City," Kim Wilde - "Kids in America," OMD, Duran Duran, Flock of Seagulls and others. KROQ sometimes played "Six Months in a Leaky Boat," too, so I was familiar with Split Enz.

Then, in 1986, Crowded House came along and "Don't Dream it's Over" was ALL OVER the radio and I loved it and I bought the album and I loved all the tracks and was so excited when KROQ started playing the second single, "Something So Strong." MTV aired the video a bit, too, and I'm thinking, "Cool--everyone seems to like these guys!"

But when their sophomore album, "Temple of Low Men," was released in 1988, it got a trickle of airplay for the lovely "Better Be Home Soon" and then kind of fizzled. Same with their 1991 album, "Woodface," which I absolutely adore and which holds major sentimental value for me, as I purchased it immediately following a life-changing event. I've purchased every one of their albums since, including Neil's solo stuff and the albums Neil and Tim recorded as Finn Brothers.

Nowadays, no piece written about CH fails to mention "Don't Dream it's Over" as their one hit. But, folks, that's only in the U.S.! They've had far greater success in their native New Zealand, in Australia, in the UK and all over Europe. A bunch of their singles that barely cracked the airwaves here were huge sellers everywhere else!

So, with that, I hereby contest Crowded House's standing as a one-hit wonder. Just ask the 300+ screaming fans at the Bowery Ballroom last month (and at their sold-out shows around the world this year). Sure, most are in their 40s or older and not what one might call "hip," but fuck if they (and I) didn't have a fabulous time grooving to CH for a full TWO & A HALF HOURS. Who plays that long anymore?! Neil Finn is one of the world's greatest, unsung (pun intended) songwriters and if he only has one "hit" to show for it in the U.S., so be it. He's laughing all the way to the bank.

P.S. I bought their new album, "Intriguer," last week and I challenge anyone to name more than a handful of artists still writing and playing beautiful, thoughtful, relevant music 30 YEARS into their careers. One-hit wonder, my ass!

Guess Who's Still Alive?

Yup, that'd be me. I have ideas scribbled in notebooks, on Post-its, in my email Drafts folder (technically not scribbled, I know), in random places in crossword-puzzle books. And yet I never seem to get around to formulating them into something readable. Erf.

I have genuinely missed writing about music and have been crafting rants, raves, blog posts and other musicabilianess here and there.

One idea that has floated round my brain for years is a series I'll call SIFA, or Songs I'd Forgotten About (but have recently rediscovered and still love). A few gems:

1. "Sara" and "Hold Me" - Fleetwood Mac

Easily tied for my favorite Mac songs. I hadn't heard either in years till one recent day, "Sara" came on the radio and I fell in love all over again. Anyone who knows me knows I'm an unabashed, lifelong lover of radio. When I was a child, my family and I flew between New York and L.A. almost every year. As soon as I was strapped into my seat, I'd hungrily rip the plastic off those (free!) plastic headphones, plug 'em into my armrest and spend the entire flight surfing the radio channels. Certain songs never fail to remind me of those flights: "Sara" is absolutely one of them, others include Prince's "I Wanna Be Your Lover," the Eagles' "I Can't Tell You Why" and Diana Ross's "Theme from Mahogany."

But back to Fleetwood Mac. I could listen to "Hold Me" ten times in a row without tiring of it--it's one of those truly masterful pop songs. It easily transports me back to the summer of 1982, when I was 10: Mirage was one of my first LP purchases and "Hold Me" was in heavy rotation on MTV, feeding my Lindsey Buckingham crush.

2. "Tusk" - Fleetwood Mac

I rediscovered this--plus a few other Fleetwood Mac goodies--when I went to download "Sara." Fleetwood Mac certainly doesn't rank in my top 10 or even top 20 favorite bands (they might make the top 25 if I forgive them for "Oh Well"), but I've always admired their songwriting, harmonizing and musicianship. They're solid. Plus, since watching a VH-1 "Behind the Music" special on Stevie Nicks about a decade ago, I can't forget the sheer volume of songs that have poured out of this woman. We're talking HUNDREDS. Look up "prolific" in the dictionary and there's a photo of her, in all her billowing glory.

3. "I've Been Losing You" - a-Ha

I almost hate to get off the Fleetwood Mac track, but I've been listening to this song quite a bit lately and I appreciate it far more than I did when I first heard a-Ha in the 80s. Like every other giddy teen, I adored "Take on Me," bought the 45 and sat glued to the TV whenever the video aired. Then, they released "The Sun Always Shines on TV," which I liked even MORE than "Take on Me" and which pushed me to buy their first album. Upon listening, I discovered another gem, the hauntingly beautiful title song, "Hunting High and Low."

A couple years later, when a-Ha released their second album, Scoundrel Days, our local New Wave station, KROQ, started playing the singles "I've Been Losing You" and "Cry Wolf" regularly. I liked both songs and was pleasantly surprised that a-Ha hadn't disappeared after their first wave of success.

(Which brings me to another list I'd like to explore eventually: BUCOW, or Bands Unfairly Categorized as One-hit Wonders. Tune in for that later.)

A-ha certainly fits into that category. Most people only recall "Take on Me" for the catchy pop gem it was, but these guys were actually quite a good band with a handful of well-crafted pop tunes. To my teenage self, it helped that they were cute and photogenic and stylish. But when that fades, what you have left is a pop group as good as Duran Duran or Erasure but who are, sadly, mostly remembered as a one-hit wonder.

More to come in my SIFA series at a later date. Whenever I spend considerable time away from this blog, I eventually come to the overpowering realization that I need it. I just do.

Working My Way Back...

So, the website transition is still underway--I'm in the process of setting up a new WordPress blog and transferring all my archives over has proven to be a bigger undertaking than I'd expected. But, I will prevail!

I gotta say, though, while enmeshed in website updates and new projects (see below), I do miss the simple art of writing. Even my journal has sat unopened these past few months. But I'm working my way back!

A few things I've wanted to share:

One thing I love about my 30-minute morning and evening subway commute is looking around to see what everyone's reading. I've picked up many a book after becoming interested in it upon seeing it in someone's hands on the subway. A few weeks ago, I saw a young professional guy reading a book that interested me, so I made a mental note to add it to my ever-growing "Books to Read" list.

Of course, with my nearly middle-aged brain, I'd forgotten the title by the time I could make a note of it. Oh well.

A day or two later, BEHOLD! Same guy, getting on at the same stop (downtown Brooklyn), reading the SAME book! It was kismet. This time I wrote down the title and author and later that week, Jason picked it up at the library for me.

(It was Speaking Freely, about First Amendment cases being tried in NYC and the U.S. Supreme Court. Sadly, it didn't hold my interest long enough to do more than skim a few chapters, but still, I gleaned some tidbits from it.)

What else?

Finally, the long-awaited opening of Dutch Boy Burger, a joint across the street from our apartment, run by the people at Franklin Park round the corner. It's been packed since opening last week, but we look forward to trying it.

Lastly, I've been working closely with a few neighborhood friends and colleagues on a community organization designed to benefit our unique enclave of Brooklyn, straddling the Prospect Heights/Crown Heights border. We are called Franklin Avenue Creative Endeavors (FACES) and I look forward to sharing more with you as we get up and running.

For now, our website is taking shape at FranklinAve.org.

Doin' Some Housekeeping

I'm in the process of migrating this blog to a new web host and I may hit a few snags along the way. No need to panic--if I do this right, you won't feel a thing.

An Auspicious Start to 2010

It's a new month and my brain is firing on all cylinders, which, if I were to hazard a guess, would be more than four and possibly even more than eight.

First off, I'm taking an active role in an exciting new endeavor. For now, I can tell you: (a) it's a community-based project; (b) I'm inspired by the people involved and I'm so excited to work with them and (c) I'm hugely optimistic about the future of this group and where we'll go with it.

A large part of what we're attempting to do is covered here: LaunchPad. I invite you to read all about it! (I've also added some new friends to my "Local Links" roll.)

As a result of my collaboration with more people in my community, I've learned, quite surprisingly, that I have several new readers of this blog. Of course, that comes just when I'd been pondering whether or not to retire it, the main reason being that, as is the case with so many of my fellow blogging friends, the advent of Facebook means I spend less and less time writing here.

But I'd be lying like a rug if I said I didn't miss it.

I've been writing this blog since 2002. In fact, 2010 marks my 8th consecutive year of blogging here, with scattered gaps of only a month or two between posts. This blog has been my companion, my diary, my co-conspirator, my political soapbox and my personal punching bag for those days when I would strangle someone if I didn't have the outlet of venting here.

Discovering I have several new readers compelled me to look back over some older posts and I must say, I've enjoyed reading them. This blog has been a chronicle of my life as I made the difficult decision to leave New York for the quiet (if too quiet) haven of Arcata, then returned to city life (and school!) in San Francisco and, finally, came home to New York. It has chronicled the many potholes in my road to figuring out just who the hell I am, where I should be and how my life should be playing out. One important thing it's taught me is that there simply shouldn't be any "should." My life has played out the way I have steered and prompted it, with a little kismet thrown in for good measure.

So, now I'm settling in to a new year, with a new husband, a new business venture and a new community focus. I have no idea how things will turn out and I'm not sure I'd want to glimpse the future even if I could arrange it. But I'm sure as hell optimistic.

Welcome to the journey, new readers.

Thoughts on Haiti

Like so many others around the world, I've been moved these past six days by the plight of the people of Haiti. No more so, of course, than I was moved by the images and stories following the horrible tsunami in 2004 or Hurricane Katrina in 2005 or the terrible earthquake in China in 2008. Something about the notion that buildings, entire cities even, can be destroyed in mere seconds is just unfathomable and infinitely mesmerizing to me.

I'm fully aware that my fixation and fascination with natural disasters stems from my own experience during the 1994 Northridge earthquake, which I've written about before here and here.

I do not know what it's like to be without food or water or to be forced to live outdoors because my home has been destroyed. I don't know what it's like to suffer the gut-wrenching loss of my parents or siblings or children to such a horrific disaster. I don't know what it's like to truly suffer the consequences of a disaster on the scale of a Katrina or of an earthquake powerful enough to flatten my city to rubble.

But I do know what it's like to feel the kind of fear that only someone who has survived a significant disaster can attest to.

Yesterday marked 16 years since the powerful earthquake that rocked L.A. and changed my life. Haiti's earthquake measured about four times larger than our Northridge quake and yet the damage was substantially more extensive, for obvious reasons--California spends more on earthquake retrofitting of buildings, highways and infrastructure than the entire GDP of some countries.

Still, the 6.8 that shook L.A. in 1994 caused considerable damage to my parents' house, where I had returned home to live temporarily just a few months before. I was 22 and I took pride in my sense of fearlessness--at that age, even the smartest of us can tend toward carelessness. I sped in my car without a seatbelt, I ate and drank things I shouldn't, I took meds without reading the labels, I experimented with sex and drugs and laughed when I considered how I disputed my own intelligence and common sense when it came to taking care of myself. I was intrepid, but sensible, in that I knew how and when to look over my shoulder.

But being jolted out of bed at 4:31 in the morning by the world violently shaking beneath my bed--that was enough to turn me into a stuttering shell of a young woman in seconds. I know what it's like to feel like I am about to die. As I cowered beneath books and furniture being hurled across my room, landing on top of me, I felt the terror of imagining the entire house would come crashing down any minute and do me in. I know what it's like to fear that my beloved family members, experiencing the same ferocious shaking in their own beds, might not survive the fallout. I know the fear that comes with the sickening silence of the seconds just after the quake, before we called out to each other.

And yet, our house remained standing.

When I saw the initial images of Haitians gathering in the streets, setting up tents and makeshift shelters, I was reminded of how my parents, my brother and I set up camp in our backyard--making toast and coffee on a little outdoor grill while we rode out the first of dozens of aftershocks. We stayed outdoors for the next 3-4 days, sleeping in our cars on the driveway while aftershocks continued to rumble through our house. My mom and I wandered our neighborhood at all hours with our sleepless golden retriever, Skylar. We met neighbors we'd never spoken to before--families, like ours, sleeping in their driveways or in tents on their front lawns, using flashlights to navigate indoors, walking across broken glass or toppled furniture to get to the bathroom.

In the daylight hours, we'd sift through the mess that remained in our house, but none of us felt safe enough to stay indoors overnight without electricity and with the threat of aftershocks doing further damage while we slept.

Still, we had food. We had water. We had toilets we could flush with buckets of water from our swimming pool. We could bathe. We had radios with batteries and cars with fuel and working engines we could run to keep us warm at night. We had no streetlights or TV or open supermarkets, but our week of inconvenience was nothing that could be described as desolation.

What I can relate to is the lack of communication family members and friends have been coping with in Haiti. (Or, at least my sister can. She was studying abroad in England when the earthquake hit and--upon seeing images on the news of the quake in her hometown 6,000 miles away--could not reach any of us by phone for a frantic couple of days.)

So, I can relate. And yet I can't. The magnitude of death and despair and desperate need for food, water and medical care are far beyond the realm of anything I can imagine. And yet the fear--that's something I know. I know the terror that explodes from within at the first rumbling of an aftershock. I know how hard it is to forget that deafening sound of the earth fiercely shaking, walls shifting, glass breaking, alarms and sirens going off, transformers exploding and fires burning across the city.

I know how it feels to wonder if you'll ever feel normal again, ever be able to go to sleep at night without the fear of being jerked awake (though one stroke of luck for the Haitians was that the quake happened in broad daylight--most won't have the added element of fear of darkness). I was always somewhat of an anxious person and I am well aware of the L.A. earthquake's effect on my general anxiety level. It changed my emotional and mental landscape, to be certain. But in spite of the fear I lived with for so long, I am fortunate enough to have walked away physically unscathed, as did my loved ones.

If only the people of Haiti could say the same.

Marriage - The Early Days

Oh, blog, how I've missed you...

In the often wacky world of weddings, brides are generally depicted and/or perceived as elated, joyful, even jubilant. Once the hectic wedding period is over, newlyweds fall into a state of bliss and ecstasy, gleefully opening gifts, setting up house and planning their idyllic future now that they’ve entered the coveted realm of marriage. It's all romance and sunshine and smiles.

What’s harder to find—on the myriad wedding websites, in countless books and magazines or anywhere else—is a realistic depiction of newly-married life. It's new. And it's scary and overwhelming and... did I mention new?

I have been married less than 2 months, so I am hardly a credible commentator on the joys or troubles of marriage. Last week, Jason asked me to share my feelings about this past month of our lives. I stumbled over my answer. Meanwhile, my new husband coolly asserted it has been the happiest month of his life, to which I smiled and remembered why I adore him so.

To say it has been a roller-coaster would be not only a cliché, but an understatement. My married friends warned me that the weeks leading up to the wedding (as well as the event itself) go by in a blur of planning, organizing, preparing and coordinating and finally, celebrating. We excitedly counted down the days to our wedding, only to have the day spring itself on us as if unannounced, then whizzing by in a magical haze of hugs, kisses, handshakes and clinking glasses.

Then, our parents and siblings left town, along with various other relatives and friends making their way back to the west coast or points elsewhere. We got our gifts put away, thank-you cards written, follow-up phone calls made, house straightened out, rings resized. Things seemed to settle down and return to normal for us. With one minor exception: we are now legally bound to one another. Our lives are intertwined in a way they've never been with anyone else before, involving our families, our finances, our health and everything in between.

As someone who has always relished her independence and enjoyed, for the most part, her singlehood, I've struggled with conflicting emotions: The joy and elation of sharing my life with someone I intend to stick with and whose company I intend to enjoy until I'm too old to enjoy much else, coupled with anxiety over sharing my life so completely and openly with another human being. I'm aware that this is my own crap and I'm dealing with it. And when I'm feeling overwhelmed by it all, I just remember I'm not the first, the second or even the millionth newlywed to experience these emotions.

Then, I cuddle up to my husband and wrap my arms around him and everything else falls away. That's when I know it's all worth it.