"Shouldn't I have this
Shouldn't I have this
Shouldn't I have all of this, and
Passionate kisses
Passionate kisses, whoa ohh oh
Passionate kisses from you"
I was driving up PCH listening to the Cafe and an unmistakable song came on the radio. One I knew. One I went to metaphorical junior high with. But it was just a bit OFF!
It was like a fraternal twin. The same, but DIFFERENT!
I was touched by Mary-Chapin Carpenter's "Come On Come On".
Oh, I didn't pay attention to her. She was country. Before country was cool. Before ALT COUNTRY!
She seemed shitkicker lite. A northerner playing cornpone music.
But then my next door neighbor invited me over for Christmas dinner.
He was one of the most intense people I ever met. The kind you didn't know whether he was being friendly or was about to haul off and hit you. Really, he was almost unreadable. And I'm telling you, BEWARE of the unreadable. They're trouble.
And as I'm sitting in his house eating turkey and stuffing, there's this album on the stereo. Which strangely resonates.
This was almost fifteen years ago. Before the indie revolution. Back when we insiders thought we knew EVERYTHING!
I was shocked when he told me it was Mary-Chapin Carpenter. I should have KNOWN!
And when I returned home, I rifled through hundreds of CDs for the album I knew I had somewhere.
And that's when I discovered the title track...
"And tonight I am thinking of someone, seventeen years agoWe rode in his car down the river road"
Funny how the past haunts you. You're fine as long as things are moving along swiftly. As long as you're harried, deep in conversation.
But then you find yourself alone in the car. At home. And you hear a record and you're taken back to a moment in time you think you forgot.
That's what's been lost with the switch to talk radio.
Talk radio is visceral. It's present. It AVOIDS having you confront your history. It leaves your history behind.
And oldies radio isn't YOUR past. No, it's all streamlined. Hits only. No nooks and crannies. No losses.
And hit radio, Top Forty, urban. There's no "Walk Away Renee". It's all about the party. You wonder if Pink ever slows down, lies in bed alone, and contemplates her past.
Well, Pink's got plenty of time to do that now. She blew up her career.
Then there are people like Mariah Carey. All they know is 11. All they know is being on top. Working to stay there. They believe if they slow down, they'll crack. Which she did.
And the hip-hop records don't set your mind adrift. They don't trigger memories from the past. Hell, that's the OPPOSITE of hip-hop. Hip-hop is about the now, yesterday is IRRELEVANT! It's better now, forget the past.
But you can't forget the past. Unless you've had shock therapy.
Oh, the sound of "Come On Come On". It's warm, yet creepy. It slows you down, stops you in your tracks. But then you've got to contemplate your history. And know that it's just that. Those people aren't there anymore. And if you ran into them, their story would be different. They're no longer in high school. They've got lines in their faces. They've got children. Commitments. They're no longer foot loose and fancy free. Hell, a lot of their optimism has been drained off, they're going through the motions. How did we get HERE?
And there's a companion piece on the album, "I Am A Town".
It sounds like a ghost town. A modern day ghost town. Where you still live, but not much of anybody else does. And if you're driving through, you might stop for gas, but you don't want to stay for long. You're afraid you'll get trapped. In the past.
And you drive a brand new car. Got your hip clothes. You don't want to be banished to the past.
But the past is not only where you came from, but who you are. You can't shake it.
These two tracks make "Come On Come On" great. Buyable. Memorable.
But they weren't hits.
Tracks like this aren't hits. That's what we lost in the nineties. Everything that wasn't obvious. We threw out everything not formulaic. Not on the surface perfect.
But it's these imperfect records. Made by people a bit overweight. Or hunched-over. With faces more appropriate for the Dust Bowl than toothpaste ads. It's THESE records that detail our lives.
We've lost our fabric.
That's what the switch to plastic surgery has done. The medicated public. The soft bumper kid world. We've eradicated all chance, all difference. We're cultural Nazis. Under the aegis of not wanting ANYBODY to be underprivileged, we've removed our underpinnings. Our society's not built upon ANYTHING! It's got no CHARACTER! No SOUL!
Just think about it. You used to have to DO something to be famous. Now, you're on a reality TV show, and famous for doing NOTHING! And you can't go back to your regular life, because you'll be pestered by the public, saying AREN'T YOU FAMOUS?
No, unless you're a fan of Mary-Chapin Carpenter, you've never heard "Come On Come On" or "I Am A Town".
But you've probably heard the hit "Passionate Kisses".
I know it from playing the album. Yes, "Come On Come On" was released in an era when we still PLAYED albums. Or maybe it's that "Come On Come On" was playable through and through.
But reading the credits, doing this when you're INTO something, I found out although Mary-Chapin Carpenter had written the title track and "I Am A Town", she wasn't the composer of "Passionate Kisses".
Not that I remembered this. Hell, I didn't find the TRACK that memorable.
But cruising up PCH. You know, just past the light at the California Incline. Going towards Chautauqua. "Passionate Kisses" sounded just FANTASTIC!
Actually, I couldn't place it. It wasn't until after looking at the readout that the version I knew came back.
But this version. It was the same groove, the same lyrics, but it PENETRATED!
"Is it too much to ask?
I want a comfortable bed that won't hurt my back
Food to fill me up
And warm clothes and all that stuff"
The delivery, it wasn't PERFUNCTORY!
This person wasn't singing the lyrics from a teleprompter. No, this was coming from somewhere DEEP INSIDE!
Oh, that very first line was delivered with ATTITUDE! Is it too much to ASK??? I mean am I OUT OF LINE HERE? She wants your attention. She really wants to know, what do you THINK?
And she's not really asking for that MUCH!
She DOES want a comfortable bed that won't hurt her back. Aren't we ENTITLED to this? Shit, MY bed's past its expiration date. I've GOT a bad back. Am I not entitled to a new bed? Don't I DESERVE ONE? Hell, I spend a THIRD of my life asleep!
And every time I go to Whole Foods I don't buy what I want. I'm not that fucking RICH! But it's just FOOD! Isn't that a basic human RIGHT? The class system in America is FUCKED! The obese poor people can't AFFORD fruits and vegetables.
As for clothes... As long as they're holding together, as long as they don't have too many holes, I'm fine. After all, it's what's inside that counts. Hell, LUCINDA WILLIAMS isn't in fashion spreads. I've seen her around. She's got a regular closet.
And I'm contemplating all this. Contemplating how when I was introduced to Lucinda over a decade ago I didn't give a shit. I didn't GET IT! And then I heard the CHORUS!
"Shouldn't I have this
Shouldn't I have this
Shouldn't I have all of this, and
Passionate kisses
Passionate kisses, whoa ohh oh
Passionate kisses from you"
Whoa, I'm not much on the kissing. I'm more on the TOUCHING!
And PASSIONATE kisses? Sounds like GIRL SHIT!
But the fact that it IS girl shit, somehow I GOT IT!
Oh, make no mistake, I'd heard Mary-Chapin Carpenter's take PLENTY, but the message wasn't clear. Oh, I UNDERSTOOD IT, I just didn't FEEL IT!
What Lucinda is saying is... God, am I asking TOO MUCH? Isn't this what life is ABOUT? Why should I SETTLE!
And Lucinda's no looker. She didn't win the genetic lottery. And fuck, SHE'S entitled. Which means I'M entitled. Yup, that sounds PRETTY DAMN GOOD! PASSIONATE KISSES! Maybe that's what I'm missing. Where kisses are part of the WHOLE PICTURE! Fun unto themselves. Not as part of sex. Not as representative of the commitment. And not done in a sensual way to satisfy HER! Not slow and seductive as much as a GOOD TIME!
"Is it much to demand
I want a full house and a rock and roll band
Pens that won't run out of ink
And cool quiet and time to think"
WAIT A SECOND! She's just my age. And what she's saying is she doesn't want to die, doesn't want to give up, doesn't want to GROW UP! She doesn't want to leave her old self BEHIND, she wants to TAKE IT WITH HER! She wants a family, a house, AND she wants to play her music, be a rock and roller.
Which is why I don't bother to pick up women at the grocery store. Why I don't Internet date. THOSE women couldn't POSSIBLY understand me. Couldn't understand that I'm not on a race to ACQUIRE shit. Not interested in a new car as much as e-mail from some unknown person telling me the TRUTH!
God, I HAD a girlfriend who told me when she moved in with me she didn't know she was moving in with my RECORD COLLECTION!
And can't inspiration LAST! Do we have to be like the rock stars who run out of fuel and get day jobs, oftentimes at the RECORD COMPANY??
And I love you, I really do. I want to talk. I want to EXPLORE! But I also want you to LEAVE ME ALONE! Give me time to THINK!
God, if we're involved DON'T call me six times a day. Not even to say I LOVE YOU! I love you too babe, but you're not the ONLY thing in my life. And I'm not so desperate as to need confirmation of the connection AD INFINITUM! I TRUST you to buy milk without my input. I can wait till the END of the day to hear your little stories.
"Do I want too much
Am I going overboard to want that touch
I shouted out to the night
'Give me what I deserve, 'cause it's my right'"
It's a chick thing.
Most guys don't get Lucinda Williams.
You see the girls get the sensibility. Lucinda's generation's parents told them they could have EVERYTHING! And it turns out it's hard to have SOMETHING! A marriage that lasts, never mind a fulfilling job.
And Lucinda's not one of the remade airheads on "Desperate Housewives". She's REAL, like her listeners! She's asking. NOT on "The Surreal Life". NOT on "Big Brother". NOT on the Super Bowl. Rather in your living room, over coffee in the afternoon, IS IT TOO MUCH? I mean can't she have THIS MUCH! I mean she's not looking for EVERYTHING! She's stripped away the UNIMPORTANT, but these are her DEALBREAKERS! These are the things she NEEDS!
But really, it's not the words as much as the DELIVERY!
Mary Chapin-Carpenter SINGS the song. She growls when the producer tells her to. She wants to get it right, PERFECT! Whereas Lucinda's not self-conscious AT ALL! She doesn't give a FUCK what you think about her performance. She's telling you FOR REAL!
And you GET IT!
Usually a song is done best by the writer. They know where they're coming from.
Oh, there are exceptions. Joe Cocker for one.
But we've entered a nadir. The songs are written by one group, usually a COMMITTEE, and performed by someone beautiful who's just hitting the NOTES! THAT'S not what caused the music revolution. THAT'S not what allows you to drive a Mercedes. NO, it USED to be that the music was LIFE ITSELF! The DISTILLED ESSENCE of the human condition.
Lucinda's rendition of "Passionate Kisses" was cut on a budget. It's thin. It could be remade to be RICH!
But then its greatness would probably be lost.
It's not about the PRODUCTION, but the RENDITION!
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