Progressive Wednesday

The big three one, part v.

Okay, it ain’t Monday, but, you know, most of the white-collar United States world had the day off, so here we are with a pick-me-up on Tuesday (particularly useful if you’re a Bills fan and watched a colossal disappointment on last night on MNF).

Instead of three, I’m only giving you one today, because I can’t pull myself away from this tune enough to come up with two others I’d rather hear, and therefore, rather share, dear readers. The song? “1234.” The musician? Feist. This number blends all the right things together, resulting in a bittersweetness morphed into an infectious hopefulness. It calls to mind the group singing of Polyphonic Spree, the avant-rock orchestral arrangement of Anathallo on “A Great Wind More Ash” and Arcade Fire on “Wake Up,”and the pure pop of Fiona Apple’s “Paper Bag” and Wilco’s “I’m Always in Love.”

And the lyrics? Check these out: “Sweetheart, bitterheart, now I can’t tell you apart. / Cozy and cold, put the horse before the cart. / Those teenage hopes, who have tears in their eyes, / too scared to own up to one little lie.”

In my book, “1234″ is the best of many worlds, and a welcome reminder of the power of music done “just so.” Plus, I’m a sucker for hand clapping, baby. So here’s the “official” video for the song, as well as live versions performed on Letterman (a must-see!) and O’Brien. Enjoy….

The big three, part iii.

Well, here we are: another Monday, dear readers. So, as we did the last two weeks, we’re going to offer up a triptych of art for your eyes and ears, brains and, hopefully, hearts.

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I really don’t want to write much about this video of…what I guess I’d call “performance art” at its most witty and whimsical. And I’ll say this: I’m glad there are people out there doing this kind of thing.

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Here’s a lovely and energized poem by Frank O’Hara simply called “Song.”

O’Hara, a curator at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City from 1960-1966, wrote with an urgency on par with folks like Gertrude Stein and Walt Whitman. Unlike the former, his poems tend to make a bit more logical sense. Unlike the latter, his poems tend toward something more intimate. In his poetics manifesto, O’Hara wrote:

I went back to work and wrote a poem for [a] person. While I was writing it I was realizing that if I wanted to I could use the telephone instead of writing the poem, and so [my poetic philosophy] was born. It's a very exciting movement which will undoubtedly have lots of adherents. It puts the poem squarely between the poet and the person, and the poem is correspondingly gratified. The poem is at last between two persons instead of two pages.

As a writer, I applaud and adopt this sensibility whenever possible. And there’s some odd correlation for me between his philosophy and his early death (he was 40) after a sand buggy accident on Fire Island.

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SONG

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Did you see me walking by the Buick Repairs?

I was thinking of you

having a Coke in the heat it was your face

I saw on the movie magazine, no it was Fabian's

I was thinking of you

and down at the railroad tracks where the station

has mysteriously disappeared

I was thinking of you

as the bus pulled away in the twilight

I was thinking of you

and right now

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So, since it is Monday, why not close things off with a rock-till-you-freaking-drop tune called “Monday.” In case you’re new to the site or suffer from some sort of one-track-mind-ism (and you’re train is still boarding at the station), I dig on Wilco. That alt-country/avant-rock outfit is my Disney World. And here’s video of them kicking the aforementioned rocker from their sophomore effort, Being There. The footage, I should mention, comes to us from I Am Trying to Break Your Heart, a documentary by Sam Jones of the band recording then touring on their post-modern masterpiece, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.

The big three, part ii.

As the Mamas and the Papas put it: “Monday, Monday, can’t trust that day.” So, in our continuous quest to help you trust Mondays more, here’s today’s trio o’ art.

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First up: Art 21. This is a PBS serious now in its fourth incarnation highlighting contemporary visual artists. I’ve enjoyed this “documentary” a great deal: I’m a bit of a modern/contemporary art fanatic (the MoMA and the Albright-Knox Art Gallery are my museums of choice). Art 21 Season 4 airs on October 28, November 4, 11, and 18 at 10 PM (EST).

Check out the trailer to get a taste….

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I’ve been thinking back on my years in Columbus, Ohio (nearly a decade), and I can’t think about my time there without waxing nostalgic about beating a confession out of my drums for six different bands. Two of my former outfits — Jack Diesel and Lower Lights Burning — kicked the crap out of “Can’t Hardly Wait,” a tune recorded by the band Paul Westerberg fronted, The Replacements.

The Replacements were notorious for getting intensely drunk before gigs, drunk to the point of falling down on stage, unable to remember lyrics. I wish, wish, wish I’d seen this, but at the same time, thankfully, I lived it: at one of my gigs, our lead singer Jimmy, lover of whiskey and all things beer, literally plummeted into my kit mid-song, sending a crash cymbal flying, slicing open the hand of our bassist. It was, in all seriousness, fantastic. So here’s to Jimmy, and here’s to The Replacements.

Besides all of that, I love the lick that drives the song, and I dig the lyrics ’cause there’s something urgent in the closing chorus that just rings true. So here’s a sober Mr. Westerberg and his backing band playing “Can’t Hardly Wait” on Saturday Night Live. (My apologies for their suits and the bizarre antics of the drummer… just listen, yo.)

(I can’t embed the video here so just click this sentence to give it a spin.)

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Because a little nepotism goes a long way, I thought I’d highlight three photos I adore, all of which were clicked by James Robinson, our very own photography editor.

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To see more of his work, just click this here sentence, baby.