Night Music

I'm writing to you from another hotel room in southern Minnesota tonight. I don't know what it is about hotels, but they seem to elicit all things bloggy so I'll strike while the iron's hot. I will warn you now, however: you won't like this entry. It's a self-absorbed, esoteric reflection of my early musical life. If I were you, I'd go back to Facebook. Just sayin'...

I’d like to devote the first portion of this entry to the greatest technological achievement of the 21st century (so far): YouTube. Thanks to the modern miracle of YouTube, we can now watch endless hours of airplane spotting videos, guys mowing their lawns, and bass solos from some of the greatest players in the world. It’s also quite handy for reliving one’s youth.

As a musician, I love to hear favorite songs from my past and dissect the various parts using the knowledge I’ve gained over the last three decades. It’s fascinating to discover that many songs I inexplicably liked when I was young had very prominent or conspicuous bass lines.

For example, most of my high school friends weren’t big into Duran Duran. Consequently, I didn’t flout my unlikely infatuation with their music to my buddies (or anyone else for that matter.) What I didn’t realize until years later is that their bassist, John Taylor, is a world-renowned talent whose lines give their music a truly distinct sound. Check out the bass line from their 1982 hit “Rio”:

At the age of 12, I didn’t have the ear to recognize this funky-ass bass part but that song really resonated with me; it’s painfully obvious now why it did. Say what you will about Duran Duran but their music was head-and-shoulders above most of the other new wave music of that time, which was nearly ALL techno/synth-driven with little in the way of bass/guitar.

One of the greatest things I’ve come across on YouTube is a show that literally changed my life. From 1988–1990, a show called Night Music was on NBC every Saturday night. Hosted by famed saxophonist David Sanborn, Night Music was a show light years ahead of its time that featured an amazingly diverse lineup of musical acts from around the world. Two episodes stood out that had a profound impact on my musical journey; one featured the Red Hot Chili Peppers and the other the greatest jazz guitarist of all/my time, Pat Metheny.

I’d never seen anything like the Chili Peppers and it literally blew my mind. Not just your ordinary punk/metal band, their bassist, Flea, is known today as one of the greatest rock bassists of all time. Again, at the age of 18 and lacking any semblance of a musical education, I didn’t realize why I was drawn to their music. Check this shit out and pay close attention at 0:20 into the clip:

Did you hear that bass lick??? I remember sitting on the couch watching this with my jaw nearly resting on the floor. It was around this time that I began to realize there was a much bigger musical world out there and I might be able to make a place in it.

Lastly, Night Music was the first time I was exposed to the brilliance of Pat Metheny. Metheny is not what you think of when you think about the typical turtleneck-wearing, soft-strumming jazz guitarist. He uses a vast array of sounds, including his trademark guitar synth sound, and relies heavily on what I call the flat-6 chord structure. I won’t bore you with the musical pedagogy but this particular chord structure lends itself to an ethereal sound that creates a noticeable sense of urgency in the music. You musicians will know what I’m talking about…think of the classic Am – Fmaj7 progression. Here is his performance of “Have You Heard” from the October 29th, 1989 episode of Night Music:

I had never seen guitar played like this by a man who looked like that with musicians who looked and played like that. Honestly, who plays drums like Paul Wertico? Look at those cymbals and watch how he plays. It’s absolutely fascinating! Do yourself a favor and watch all 6:34 of it. 

Unfortunately, Night Music only lasted two or three seasons. I don’t think America was ready for its eclectic content. Hell, this was right in the middle of “Wayne’s World”…who could compete with that? Alas, a country full of musical simpletons spoke and the axe fell. 

Being able to watch it now on the YouTubes brings back such mixed emotions. I remember the exhilaration of hearing and seeing this new music and how inspiring it was, making me want to play music for the rest of my life. I also remember how helpless I felt. I was an unpopular, awkward, obnoxious kid with some musical talent that was at that point, untapped. In case you didn’t know, chicks aren't into unrealized musical talent. You have to have it on prominent display for it to work. Watching Night Music every Saturday night (there’s your other hint: I was home every Saturday night), I knew something in life could be better, I just didn’t know how to get there and it was very frustrating.

Then, in 1989, I went to college, lost some weight, learned how to play bass guitar, got really good, had chicks hanging all over me, married one, and all as well. I still like to go back to those nights on the couch, though, meeting my future musical heroes. Thanks for those trips down memory lane, YouTube.

Larga vida de la música nocturna!
Travis

Kansas: Land of Crushed Dreams

Remember when you were about nine or ten years old and you began to stumble upon certain mysteries of life? Remember how disappointing it was to find out that certain things you believed with such fervor and that brought such joy were nothing but a sham? We all remember that moment when we learned the Big Guy wasn’t real. No, not God, you silly goose…Santa Claus. That’s how I felt while driving through Kansas today: crushed - just like the day I learned that Mom and Dad had lied to me for ten years.

What’s the first thing you think of when you hear the word “Kansas”? Do you think of Dorothy? Toto? Carry on Wayward Son? No! You think of WHEAT!!! You think of vast expanses of wheat, caressed by the wind and undulating like a boundless amber ocean. You all think of that, right? I’m not the only one, right?

What I expected to see during my travels today...

As any regular reader of this tome knows, I am required to visit my online students when they start the program, wherever they may be, come hell or high water.  So, you can imagine my giddiness when I saw two Kansans on my class list for the coming term! I’ve always wanted to see the great wheat fields of Kansas and now was my chance.

For some reason, bleak, simplistic landscapes have always fascinated me. Perhaps it stemmed from my love of jazz guitarist Pat Metheny and his use of these barren naturescapes on his album covers.

Or, perhaps that’s just how God wired me. Regardless, I was totally stoked this morning as I headed westward out of Beloit, Kansas towards the beckoning western expanse.

It began slowly. I saw some fields of short corn and what appeared to be an alien strain of mutated soybeans. “OK, that’s a start,” I reassured myself. Then I saw it: my first wheat field. Much to my dismay, however, it was only about 10 inches high and as level as a Marine recruit’s haircut. “THEY’VE ALREADY F@&$ING HARVESTED IT!!!” I screamed at myself.  My second, less obscene thought was, “OK, maybe they harvest earlier in the central part of the state. Maybe the amber waves are still flowing out west.”

What I actually saw during my travels today...

Nope.

Four hours later, when I arrived at my destination funeral home in Garden City, Kansas,  I shared my consternation with the fine folks there and was informed that the harvest is in June. Sonofabitch. June. I just missed it.

I was inconsolable as I began my four-hour trek eastward towards Topeka. “Where is God?” was all I could think as I drove past the short stalks of wheat that had now become a metaphor of my Kansan Dream: a beautiful dream abruptly sliced off at the base by a metal blade and left to die, forgotten and neglected until next spring.

As I sit in my hotel room here in Topeka tonight and reflect on today's wheat-less journey, I’m trying to focus on the positives: I technically did see wheat fields. Even in their shortened form, they were still somewhat awe-inspiring with the limitless landscape behind them. 

Conversely, I also saw an assload of sorghum. In case you didn’t know, sorghum is the Seth Rogen of crops: a moderately-repulsive soybean plant with a giant turd-like growth on top. The more sorghum I saw, the more pissed I got that all the wheat was gone.

Still mired in my agnosticism, I can honestly say this trip, which held so much promise of natural beauty, didn’t help much. However, next month brings a visit to Alaska. So God, if you can arrange a flowing wheat field ready for harvest that lies juuust a bit south of the Arctic Circle, I’ll renew my membership!

Pax...

Travis