Layla

Last month I got Pattie Boyd's charming autobiography Wonderful Tonight, and read it very quickly. Perhaps it's because I don't think the former Mrs. Clapton and Mrs. Harrison was as epic, witty or wonderful as Miss Marianne, but I enjoyed her book considerably less than Faithful. And, admittedly, the Rolling Stones are my all time bar-none favorite musical group that's ever graced our planet, so maybe it has something to do with that. Blasphemous as it may seem, I never cared for the Beatles in any sort of obsessed way; same with Clapton. I recognize their talent and that they created some of our best music, but the fascination that fuels my likeness of the Rolling Stones just isn't there for those artists. Oh well. Back to Pattie....

Her book is a good read, I didn't mean to debase its quality by my own personal preference for Marianne and the Stones. I found Marianne's bio to be written better and to be more interesting, but Pattie certainly lived no simple life, and some of her tales of the famous, brilliant men she was in love with are most remarkable. I actually NEVER knew that "Layla", "Wonderful Tonight" and "Something In The Way" were written about her. I thought that her description of her love affair with Eric Clapton seemed far more passionate and exciting than her marriage to George, and that certainly comes through in the music. "Layla" is one of the most overplayed songs in rock history, but if you step back and pretend you're an alien who has never heard it before, it's difficult to deny the greatness of that tune. Eric pined for her for a long time, and all of that longing and passion is eloquently expressed. Their letters to each other I found really sweet, and the pain she felt by his infidelity and alcoholism is something that persoanlly hit close to home, as my relationship with He Who Shall Not Be Named involved a lot of booze and lies. She also didn't have such an easy life. She spent most of her time as a model being anorexic, and she was unable to have children (not due to anorexia), which was a problem in her marriages.

Pattie is a compelling woman, and she comes off rather shy, unlike Marianne and especially Anita. I suppose you can compare how she looks nowadays with that of my Stones goddesses and you can see she's lead a much more clean life! She actually looks very beautiful still, and let's face it, Anita and Marianne are worse for wear and tear (though I love them so much I find their wrinkles to be gorgeous lines bearing the witness of incredible tales). Pattie, in her youth, was a successful model, and she really was quite breath-taking in an innocent Bird of Britain kind of way (and had a great sense of style). To me her eyes lack the fire, intensity, and intelligence of A & M, her smile the wicked seductiveness, but she was still a beautiful girl. Buy her book if you're interested in rock n' roll, famous muses, or the Beatles. You probably won't be disappointed.

Got a wife and kids in Baltimore, Jack

My best friend from University (who I affectionately call "my poppet"), Miranda, is here visiting me for the week. Yesterday we made a trip to south Jersey to visit our friend Kathy. D.C. to Haddonfield, New Jersey is only a 2.5 hour drive, which isn't bad at all, especially for someone fond of it. Here are some photos from this glorious event. For those who don't know, New Jersey has been my favorite state for YEARS. I don't know exactly the reason for this, perhaps it's the unsung-hero element to it, the underdog state that everyone hates on, but it's a great place. Imagine: if you live in, say, central Jersey, you can get to both New York City and Philadelphia in an hour, Baltimore in 2 and a half, D.C. in three and a half; it's kind of an ideal place to live. There are also some really gorgeous neighborhoods and townships in Jersey. It's not all factories and turnpikes like people assume. Having once dated a guy from Philly and a guy from south Jersey, I've made this hike more times than I can count, and it's always worth it. Oh, and naturally we listened to a lot of Bon Jovi and Springsteen, which I do anyway.

"Seeing Things"

I find it hard to shed a tear
You brought it all on yourself my dear
Wrong, yes I may be
Don't leave a light on for me
'Cause I ain't comin' home
It hurts me baby to be alone
Yes, it hurts me baby

A hundred years will never ease
Hearing things I won't believe
I saw it with my own two eyes
All the pain that I can't hideA
nd this pain starts in my heart
And this love tears us apart

You won't find me bent down on my knees
Ain't bendin' over backwards baby
Not to please

'Cause I'm seeing things for the first time
I'm seeing things for the first time, oh yeah
I'm seeing things for the first time
In my life, in my life

I used to dream
Of better days that never came
Sorry ain't nothin' to me
I'm gone and that's the way it must be
So please, I've done my time
Lovin' you is such a crime

You won't find me down on, on my knees
Won't find me over backwards baby
Just to please, oh no, no no

'Cause I'm seeing things for the first time
I'm seeing things for the first time
Seeing things for the first time
Oh I'm seeing things for the first time
Yeah, seeing things for the first time
I'm seeing things for the first time
Yeah, I'm seeing things for the first time
In my life, in my life
Oh, yeah

What's So Bad About The Black Crowes?

If someone played me a Black Crowes album and I had never even heard of them, I would assume that they no longer existed. I would undoubtedly compare them to the Rolling Stones and The Faces, two of my favorite bands, and marvel that their sound has that same sort of "timelessness" to it, the same strutting guitar beats and unapologetic, unadorned rock n' roll sound, sure, but the timelessness more than anything; the rare and remarkable ability not to sound dated. If someone showed me photos of the Black Crowes, I would say they were probably a 60's or 70's band. Maybe they played at Woodstock or after the Burritos at Altamont. Maybe they hailed from San Francisco or London or New York. Maybe they stayed in the Hollywood Hills with Joni Mitchell and the Byrds, the Stones in '69, The GTOs and Jim Morrison.

But I would've been wrong. The Black Crowes released their debut album Shake Your Money Maker in 1990, when hair metal was still king and grunge was just a shot away from taking over the music scene. The Crowes fit into no such category. The first album is full of ballsy, bluesy rock and spawned, what was it, 5, singles? It sold 5 million copies, probably a bit more by now, and was a great success, especially "She Talks To Angels", their big hit. But two years later with the release of (one of my top ten favorite albums and what I'd call their unbridled masterpiece) The Southern Harmony And Musical Companion, The Crowes sort of lost touch with their wide fan base. And thank Keith! I mean, the album debuted highly and sold well at first, but the jocks and cheerleaders who were top-40, fair-weather music fans probably stopped digging them. And it's peculiar that this was a group whose underground or cult following really emerged after they got famous. If the Crowes "sold-out", they did it on their debut, certainly not in the records that have followed, which isn't the way it usually works. (And I don't count myself as someone who thinks they sold out on By Your Side just because they got glam). Amorica got attention for its controversial cover (pubic hair peaking out of a bikini bottom, oh no!) but not for its mass public appeal. And again, this album is wholly fantastic. Three Snakes And One Charm was released when Chris Robinson was heavily into drugs, and from what I've heard, the album suffers mostly because of that (it's still good, but not quite up to par with Southern Harmony and Amorica). They hit their strut again with By Your Side, lost it a bit with Lions, and last year they released a celebrated new album called Warpaint.

You can't really understand the Black Crowes purely by record; seeing them live is absolutely necessary. In concert, they are transcendent, otherworldly... the air smells sweet with herb, the lights come in colors everywhere, and the crowd can get loose and groove. Chris Robinson, possessing a rare and uncanny magnetism, can be Patti Smith one moment and Robert Plant the next, singing his lungs out, improvising, as if the catalog of great music is in his palm and he only has to select the next tune. And believe me, the Crowes know great music. They often cover Gram Parsons or the Burrito Brothers, the Stones, the Band, the Beatles. They have an ever-evolving set list and you never know what will be next. The internet may have ruined the element of surprise in that regard for most every band, but not the Black Crowes. When I saw them in September of 2006 at D.C.'s 9:30 Club, on night two of their two-night-six-hour stay, Rich Robinson played and sung "You Got The Silver". It was the first time they ever played that live, and I can't leave it to coincidence (as that's always been one of my favorite songs, Stones or otherwise).

I enjoy the politics and uncompromising integrity of this band--they aren't afraid to speak their mind and make the music they want to listen to, and on their own terms. That's something I fervently admire. And I'm glad they don't play stadiums and arenas, because being a big Crowes fan is like being a member of an exclusive club, and a ticket to A Night With The Black Crowes is more like an invitation to escape, a feel-good high that lasts for hours; a high that is the result not of drugs or alcohol or stage banter or pyrotechnics, a high not from screaming or being rubbed-up on by some sketchy dude or elbowed in the face by a careless teenager, a high purely from the eloquence of music.