Give or take, I have 10,000 songs on my PC, which I think is a reasonably sized music collection. I can't claim to love or even know all of them, but I have stretched my quest for music quite far, if within admittedly relatively narrow constraints.
However, in the cold dark moments, I know that this is just a pathetic drop in the musical ocean of recorded work; even allowing for the fact that I know I would not love much of the other music out there (most electronica, classical, most rap, most dance, anything that came from a reality programme...I could go on and on) I accept that there is probably music that I would love which I just have not yet found, and this does trouble me. Its not exactly the kind of existential crisis which wakes me screaming in the middle of the night, but it does bother me nonetheless.
I survey the vast gulfs of unexplored musical waters (almost everything before 1985, for example) and draw back from the edge, afraid that, if I started, I would not know how to stop. Nonetheless, there is an eerie feeling, partly exciting, partly scary, that comes from standing in a huge record shop, looking around and knowing that somewhere there on the racks could lie the best album I have ever ever heard, one which could change my life, except that I just don't know it's there.
Of course, the whole dynamic by which I and everyone else encounters and acquires music has changed, and the days of standing in very large record shops and feeling this wierd thrill are almost gone; I still remember being in record shops in London, L.A. or Paris and feeling almost dizzy at the fact that the selection would be different to that I could find at home, even if I would only be looking for stuff I couldn't find by artists I already knew.
Now, to find this huge range of options, I don't need to leave Cork; in fact, I don;t even have to leave the house. I can just log on to iTunes or any CD seller on-line, and access that vast vast range, and it is simultaneously even more thrilling and even more scary. TOO MUCH CHOICE. That is why I need guides, like magazine reviews (especially Uncut's), or recommendations on eMusic or whatever, to try and help point me in the right direction, and navigate me safely through the huge expanse of music available to me, like a musical GPS.
Eventually, my point, tortuously reached, is that I have just discovered the Jayhawks (because of positive reviews of 'Music from North Country', their new anthology) and I really really need to know why no-one told me about them before, considering most of the songs are over 10 years old, and I have been around that long. What vast right-wing conspiracy concealed them from me?
Their music is just gorgeous, perhaps a little on the safe and 'nice' side (like an alt-country Prefab Sprout or Martin Stephenson and the Daintees), but just basically a whole lot of loveliness wrapped in great harmonies and great melodies and instrumentation. The band had two songwriters (Mark Olson and Gary Louris), but Olson left in 1997; for more biographical details, the Allmusic guide page is here.
Thus, I will basically end this text with a gratuitous bunch of Jayhawks' videos (there has been more than enough blathering on already), starting with the beautiful 'Angelyne', which is unfortunately missing the start. Just marvel at how the harmonies intertwine at the chorus!
The next one is 'All the right reasons', which in this clip is Louris with Chris Stills, and is from 2008; again, what a beautiful chorus and lyrics.
The third clip is a TV performance, introduced by a spookily young looking Jon Stewart, of 'Blue', yet another in their seemingly endless supply of almost ridiculously lovely (I am seriously running out of adjectives here) songs.....
I will end with two of their slightly faster and louder songs; let's face, it, they are never going to be Pearl Jam (who I am listening too a lot also these days, and will be the basis of their own post soon), but it does show a different side of them:
That one was called 'I'd run away', and the next one is 'Tailspin'; the latter in particularly reminiscent to me of bands like Buffalo Tom:
I have just downloaded their companion comppilation of rarities, live bits, demos and b-sides (also called 'Music from the North Country, but sold separately on iTunes) and am very much looking forward to more catching up on lost time with their music.
This while 'missing out on great music' is certainly a real phenomenon and somewhat worrying; on the bright side, it does make the thrill of discovery all the more exciting, like suddenly unlocking a door into new and unexplored places.
No comments:
Post a Comment