No Longer Last Year's Man
Posted: Wed Oct 27, 2004 5:17 am
But he still sits there with the Jew's Harp on the table and a crayon in his
hand (and a can of Grumbacher solvent). But instead of the rain, the sun
falls down on the seven foot tall Morning Glory's in his yard. One of his
reviewers mentioned how this is a series of brushstrokes. I think that I
agree-especially as opposed to the tour de force albums that he released
post "Various Positions" when not only his commercial viability was called
into question, but his overall sensibility as nothing other than a droning
old folkie specializing in suicide tracks. But his artistry pre-dates the
60's folk history and his legacy will extend beyond the qualities that have
enshrined all those rockers in Cleveland.
After all, this is a man who could write what would seem like a funny line
if it were not so historically accurate-"I haven't been this happy since
World War II." Now there is some unease in our group. Some of the
treatments of these songs make us uncomfortable; some reviewers resort to
canny tricks like evoking wood paneling and lounge acts. Well, I can say
unequivically that Leonard has had the opportunity to experience all that
and his artistic notions have seldom missed the mark.
To start his new creation, Leonard bows to Lord Byron and probably the
instructors who pointed out the brilliance of this text. It is certainly
ironic that Leonard dedicates this song to Layton who still survives into
his 90's-a song whose music is written by a 70 year old singer about a poet who died at age 36. I can't pretend to understand the roving that these old teacher/students went through together-but I do think that Leonard appreciates not only the sexual images of the sword and the sheath, but understands the primary focus of these weapons (and defense). And the wonderful line, "And love itself have rest" which echoes the "love itself is gone" from Ten New Songs (and prefigures the line from "The Faith"-'O love, aren't you tired yet?').
My impression of the musical treatment of this song is mixed. I first heard it obviously in New York, but the excitement, position of the speakers etc. made it difficult to fully appreciate it. I've listened to it now, at least, four times. I've listened to it a couple of times in the background at my work with distractions (as I have all of the songs); I listened to it in my car on the way home in a more intimate way (taking the slow route) and now I'm listening to it on my MAC computer that seems to highlight the intimacies that Leonard emphasizes. We know that he creates on a MAC and I'm inclined to believe that this, with good speakers, is the best way to appreciate the sound as he hears it. The first riff from "Go No More" echoed the synth from "My Secret Life" and "Because Of" started in the minor key similar to "A Thousand Kisses Deep." This isn't fatal, but proved a bit of a distraction. As I've listened to them more they've grown on me. And both Anne and I laughed toward the end of "Because Of" at the way Leonard sings the line-"Look at me, Leonard, Look at me one last time."
At this point, I'd like to say a couple of things about our understanding of
Leonard's work. First of all, most of us have preferences and underlying
histories that make us bond to various types of music. If we've had a
mother who sang lullabyes to us, or if our teenage years produced great
attachment to various styles, or even, late in life, had epiphanies toward
alternate music, we tend to cling to those experiences. As I mentioned
before, Leonard created a wonderful early guitar style and his post 1988
creations were completly realized in a sense that people of that era-no
matter what age-could listen to and agree that the brilliance shown through. He is not immune to the attraction of these standard, contemporary influences. Leonard ends "Dear Heather" with "The Tennessee Waltz"-a beautiful, nostalgic, affectionate song. He is drawn to these country and western ballads that provided the soundtrack for his youth.
But he is challenged and challenges us, beyond this. Poetry is words set to music and song complicates the process. We can fallback to those sounds that create comfort in our soul and reject those noises that don't fall within the patterns that life has taught us. Any artist asks but one thing of us-that we make the effort to attempt to understand what he/she is saying. He/She asks this long before they ask for any adulation and
appreciation. Does this album speak for itself, as Leonard says? His
teacher, F. R. Scott wrote: "Gardens are very nice in their way ... and
poetry can be made of them; but they represent but a small portion of
reality. The modernist kicked poetry rather rudely out into the street to
seek amongst the haunts and habits of living men for the stuff from which a vital and humane art might be created." I don't think that "kicking" is the right word to describe Leonard's musical treatment-but there are some rude elements that put off the casual listener.
I remember studying Picasso and it was said that he could get away with
painting those crazy figures because, if he wanted to, he could paint them
realistically. Now, no one even asks if reality is a pre-requisite in art.
This is not to say that every avant garde artist/theory deserves our
adulation-but we should be educated enough to evaluate them from where they stand. And Leonard stands tall.
In an effort to test Scott's theory, he gives us "Morning Glory"-a song
about a garden-in a style that puzzles even his admiring accompanist. He uses words like, "Faith, "Solitude" and "Kindness" and mixes them with his old words like "wounded" and "ditched." All the more to remind us of what being human brings.
He answers our request for a waltz with the wonderful song, "The Faith"-a
full bore effort that brings us the beloved muscisians of our memories and dreams and follows it up with a true waltz, "The Tennessee Waltz" that lilts forever through our lives.
He goes back to the Romantic ideals of Byron and Keats evoking Keats'
"Nightingale" but reversing the sad tale whereby the narrator ends up a
"sod" by having the nightingale move to a new realm singing "somewhere." This is that "holy place" that no matter what your creed, one believes that Carl Anderson consecrates with his sacred voice.
He gives us the painter's eye view of Heather and breaks it down to word
made letter like color made pigment-all accompanied by a melody reminiscent of a carnival-as is much of life.
Then he reminds us through Klein and Scott that life has overtones of
consequence. Klein who railed against Nazism and fell into an early
twilight-"How can I leave you in such a house?" Leonard asks at an early
age. Scott's stirring poem, "Villonelle For Our Time" describes the
heartfelf belief that words and art can reshape reality. Then Leonard
pairs it with his touchingly brief description of those events of 9/11 that
have re-shaped our mental landscape.
I can't help but think that the song, "There For You" is directed toward his
children and reflects his mother and sister's love and, perhaps, those of
his fans who've followed him for years whereby this reciprocal agreement
endures. How much more so than a lover? I can't say.
I loved the picture on the last page of the booklet of Leonard sitting
beneath the stern portrait of his father, eyes shaded, with fedora and
trenchcoat, where he acknowleges Jack McClelland and silently all those who have been his teachers who welcomed him under the dark roof as an honoured son.
I guess this means I like it.
Joe
hand (and a can of Grumbacher solvent). But instead of the rain, the sun
falls down on the seven foot tall Morning Glory's in his yard. One of his
reviewers mentioned how this is a series of brushstrokes. I think that I
agree-especially as opposed to the tour de force albums that he released
post "Various Positions" when not only his commercial viability was called
into question, but his overall sensibility as nothing other than a droning
old folkie specializing in suicide tracks. But his artistry pre-dates the
60's folk history and his legacy will extend beyond the qualities that have
enshrined all those rockers in Cleveland.
After all, this is a man who could write what would seem like a funny line
if it were not so historically accurate-"I haven't been this happy since
World War II." Now there is some unease in our group. Some of the
treatments of these songs make us uncomfortable; some reviewers resort to
canny tricks like evoking wood paneling and lounge acts. Well, I can say
unequivically that Leonard has had the opportunity to experience all that
and his artistic notions have seldom missed the mark.
To start his new creation, Leonard bows to Lord Byron and probably the
instructors who pointed out the brilliance of this text. It is certainly
ironic that Leonard dedicates this song to Layton who still survives into
his 90's-a song whose music is written by a 70 year old singer about a poet who died at age 36. I can't pretend to understand the roving that these old teacher/students went through together-but I do think that Leonard appreciates not only the sexual images of the sword and the sheath, but understands the primary focus of these weapons (and defense). And the wonderful line, "And love itself have rest" which echoes the "love itself is gone" from Ten New Songs (and prefigures the line from "The Faith"-'O love, aren't you tired yet?').
My impression of the musical treatment of this song is mixed. I first heard it obviously in New York, but the excitement, position of the speakers etc. made it difficult to fully appreciate it. I've listened to it now, at least, four times. I've listened to it a couple of times in the background at my work with distractions (as I have all of the songs); I listened to it in my car on the way home in a more intimate way (taking the slow route) and now I'm listening to it on my MAC computer that seems to highlight the intimacies that Leonard emphasizes. We know that he creates on a MAC and I'm inclined to believe that this, with good speakers, is the best way to appreciate the sound as he hears it. The first riff from "Go No More" echoed the synth from "My Secret Life" and "Because Of" started in the minor key similar to "A Thousand Kisses Deep." This isn't fatal, but proved a bit of a distraction. As I've listened to them more they've grown on me. And both Anne and I laughed toward the end of "Because Of" at the way Leonard sings the line-"Look at me, Leonard, Look at me one last time."
At this point, I'd like to say a couple of things about our understanding of
Leonard's work. First of all, most of us have preferences and underlying
histories that make us bond to various types of music. If we've had a
mother who sang lullabyes to us, or if our teenage years produced great
attachment to various styles, or even, late in life, had epiphanies toward
alternate music, we tend to cling to those experiences. As I mentioned
before, Leonard created a wonderful early guitar style and his post 1988
creations were completly realized in a sense that people of that era-no
matter what age-could listen to and agree that the brilliance shown through. He is not immune to the attraction of these standard, contemporary influences. Leonard ends "Dear Heather" with "The Tennessee Waltz"-a beautiful, nostalgic, affectionate song. He is drawn to these country and western ballads that provided the soundtrack for his youth.
But he is challenged and challenges us, beyond this. Poetry is words set to music and song complicates the process. We can fallback to those sounds that create comfort in our soul and reject those noises that don't fall within the patterns that life has taught us. Any artist asks but one thing of us-that we make the effort to attempt to understand what he/she is saying. He/She asks this long before they ask for any adulation and
appreciation. Does this album speak for itself, as Leonard says? His
teacher, F. R. Scott wrote: "Gardens are very nice in their way ... and
poetry can be made of them; but they represent but a small portion of
reality. The modernist kicked poetry rather rudely out into the street to
seek amongst the haunts and habits of living men for the stuff from which a vital and humane art might be created." I don't think that "kicking" is the right word to describe Leonard's musical treatment-but there are some rude elements that put off the casual listener.
I remember studying Picasso and it was said that he could get away with
painting those crazy figures because, if he wanted to, he could paint them
realistically. Now, no one even asks if reality is a pre-requisite in art.
This is not to say that every avant garde artist/theory deserves our
adulation-but we should be educated enough to evaluate them from where they stand. And Leonard stands tall.
In an effort to test Scott's theory, he gives us "Morning Glory"-a song
about a garden-in a style that puzzles even his admiring accompanist. He uses words like, "Faith, "Solitude" and "Kindness" and mixes them with his old words like "wounded" and "ditched." All the more to remind us of what being human brings.
He answers our request for a waltz with the wonderful song, "The Faith"-a
full bore effort that brings us the beloved muscisians of our memories and dreams and follows it up with a true waltz, "The Tennessee Waltz" that lilts forever through our lives.
He goes back to the Romantic ideals of Byron and Keats evoking Keats'
"Nightingale" but reversing the sad tale whereby the narrator ends up a
"sod" by having the nightingale move to a new realm singing "somewhere." This is that "holy place" that no matter what your creed, one believes that Carl Anderson consecrates with his sacred voice.
He gives us the painter's eye view of Heather and breaks it down to word
made letter like color made pigment-all accompanied by a melody reminiscent of a carnival-as is much of life.
Then he reminds us through Klein and Scott that life has overtones of
consequence. Klein who railed against Nazism and fell into an early
twilight-"How can I leave you in such a house?" Leonard asks at an early
age. Scott's stirring poem, "Villonelle For Our Time" describes the
heartfelf belief that words and art can reshape reality. Then Leonard
pairs it with his touchingly brief description of those events of 9/11 that
have re-shaped our mental landscape.
I can't help but think that the song, "There For You" is directed toward his
children and reflects his mother and sister's love and, perhaps, those of
his fans who've followed him for years whereby this reciprocal agreement
endures. How much more so than a lover? I can't say.
I loved the picture on the last page of the booklet of Leonard sitting
beneath the stern portrait of his father, eyes shaded, with fedora and
trenchcoat, where he acknowleges Jack McClelland and silently all those who have been his teachers who welcomed him under the dark roof as an honoured son.
I guess this means I like it.
Joe
