Johnny Cash – At Folsom Prison (1968); At San Quentin (1969)

I’ve been on a Johnny Cash kick lately and keep going back to his 1968 and 1969 prison classics – At Folsom Prison and At San Quentin. A lot has been written about these records and their importance so for a change of pace, I wanted to just listen to them back to back and document my impressions.

 

The first thing I noticed is that Folsom sounds so much more polite. The audience, the band, the setlist, Johnny himself. Although it’s in a prison, it sounds mostly like a standard concert performance. You need the stage announcements and Johnny’s banter to let you know where you are. For the most part though, everyone seems to behave themselves.

 

As far as the setlist goes, Folsom is more prepared. You’ve got your badass songs, (title track, “Busted,” “Cocaine Blues”) your death songs (“The Long Black Veil,” “Send a Picture to Mother”), your comedy section (“Dirty Old Egg Suckin’ Dog,” Flushed Down the Toilet of Your Heart”), and your quiet love songs, nearly in that order. Like Johnny planned it that way specifically for that crowd. This isn’t a bad thing. A lot of the power of the recording comes from the thoughtfulness Cash put into the set.

 

Johnny is funny and charming and has the crowd listening to songs like the rollicking, “Cocaine Blues” as intently as they do the beautiful, “Give My Love to Rose.”  The way he paints the picture that he’s one of them by tailoring the set to them, joking on their behalf about the water tasting like it “ran off Luther’s boot” is pretty brilliant. And the band follows. Two-stepping song after song after song, following Johnny when he extends a verse too long or waits for mid-song applause to end. They’re always there.

 

The recording is fantastic and if you listen through the very end of the CD reissue, you hear about 90 seconds of stage announcements and the prisoners filing out of the room.

 

For being so similar conceptually, San Quentin is a different animal. First off, the band is different. Johnny’s longtime guitarist, Luther Perkins, died between the recording of At Folsom Prison and San Quentin and was replaced by Bob Wootton (and Carl Perkins on some tunes), who’s guitar is even dirtier and treblier than Perkins’ had been. The impact is pretty large as the band sounds more punk rock than it had on Folsom.

 

The crowd sounds different as well – bigger and more raucous than at Folsom, like someone had snuck in some beer. Possibly because of this, Johnny is different – loose, unhinged. He even alludes to his “dope” in a bag in the back room. It could’ve been a wink at the fact that he was playing a prison but hearing about his indulgences at the time, I doubt it.

 

The set tends to ramble around but for my money, is stronger than Folsom with classics like “Big River,” “A Boy Named Sue,” “Wanted Man,” getting their place alongside a faster, dirtier “Folsom Prison Blues” (Any of these songs would make nice additions to our Great Songs category, by the way.) Johnny sings them with the power and anger that they deserve, giving the set more balls. 

In the end, both are great documents of Johnny Cash’s career and testaments to his power and talent. But if At Folsom Prison is the train coming straight down the track to San Antone, San Quentin is the boxcar, out of control, headed God knows where.

Ultimately, both will get you where you’re going.

Dadawah: Peace and Love (1975)

This music warps time and space. Its groove-driven mix of blues, funk, and nyahbinghi is perfect for rainy, late night drives. The music is at once familiar and new and fits nicely next to Dr. John’s Gris-Gris and Santana’s Caravanserai (it’s less weird than the former and funkier than the latter, but has the same ethereal vibe). A close cousin to this album is Pharoah Sanders’ “The Creator Has a Master Plan,” but without the atonal freak-outs.

Essentially Dadawah (a.k.a. Ras Michael & Sons of Negus) has a simple formula: There’s a repeating bass line, hand drums, a jazzy piano, and a spacey guitar, all sitting on top of that insistent, chugging nyahbinghi beat. The final ingredient is Ras Michael’s call-to-peace chanting/singing. Each song lasts from 7 to 10 minutes and each song is over too quickly.

The hard part is finding this album. It doesn’t seem to be available on its own, but you can buy it in combination with Ras Michael’s first album, Nyahbinghi. Perhaps an even better deal is the Trojan Records Nyahbinghi box set, which feature ¾ of the Dadawah album, much of Ras Michael’s Nyahbinghi album, and a host of other great nyahbinghi tracks. I prefer hearing Dadawah all on its own. I just wish it were twice as long.

The Shuffle Album, Vol. 4

1. “In a Little Spanish Town (‘Twas on a Night Like This)” – Lester Young (early 1950s)

What a perfect beginning for a summer shuffle. Breezy, lyrical and beautiful playing from one of my all-time favorite saxophonists. Lester is credited (along with Coleman Hawkins) with bridging the gap between big band swing and small group & bebop playing. His tone is breathy and deep but full of expression. No wonder he accompanied Billie Holliday on so many recordings (she nicknamed him “Pres” for whatever reason, which is badass). He also had a really cool way of holding his sax to the side while he played out of the side of his mouth.

 

2. “Treat Me Nice” – Elvis Presley (1957)

This sounds perfect after Lester. They were recorded around the same time so the production is similar, if you can believe it. Light and simple. I love the barbershop ending. How about Elvis’ backup singers?

 

3. “I Just Don’t Know What to Do With Myself” – The White Stripes (2003)

Eh. I don’t love this version of the Bacharach/David joint. It’s too heavy handed – especially at the bridge with Jack’s overdriven guitar. If it’s tongue and cheek, I guess I’m ok with it but I prefer hearing it in the context of Elephant.

 

4. “Wasted & Ready” – Ben Kweller (2002)

Wow, I forgot I even had this. He owes everything to Weezer. EVERYTHING. He was like 20 or something when he recorded this and it works as a fun power pop summer song. Nice little french horn in the intro. Key line – “Sex reminds her of eating spaghetti.”

 

5. “Exhange” – Massive Attack (1998

I typically get so hung up on “Teardrop” when listening to Mezzanine that I don’t get much past that track so this is refreshing. Big ol’ deep beat with dry synth pops and sliding strings. The 8^th note piano chords that politely step in and out add something nice as well. It’s tough to find upbeat-sounding Massive Attack songs but this is pretty close.

 

6. “The Crunge” – Led Zeppelin (1973)

From one great groove to another. This sounds like they stumbled on it in the studio but b/c it’s Led Zeppelin, it’s complex and huge. I spent one whole listen trying to figure out the time signature changes. Even when it goes back to 4/4 it sounds off. “Where’s the confounded bridge?” Love the dirt.

 

7. “Guitar Man Upstairs” – Drive-By Truckers (2001)

My love for this band is well known. This one just kills me with how smart the storytelling is. Musically it’s fast and dirty bar rock and nothing more. The story centers on a man living in a city apartment, complaining about the dudes playing music and drinking above him. Then it goes back to his earlier days of being poor, abused and discriminated against, his wife leaving him (for a guitar player no less), being tempted by violence and power but ultimately deciding against it all. Now he’s just grumpy. All in less than 3 minutes. Like a George Jones song rethought by AC/DC fans.

 

8. “Track 02” – High Chair (2001)

Jason Kane is a good friend of mine and a great, versatile musician. This is a cool track from a short electronic EP he made a few years back. At first it sounded so foreign after the Truckers but placed right before the next track, it works perfectly.

 

9. “Sidewalk Surfer Girl” – Super Furry Animals (2001)

Awesome, modern psychedelia from these Welsh loonies. The whole Rings Around the World album is amazing but this short, sweet blast of English pop, crazy distortion, bouncing electronic beats and high harmonies is a perfect sampling.

 

10. “What Am I To You?” – Norah Jones (2004)

Let’s take a break here. Simple, pretty ballad in her typical style. The band sounds like they play together a ton and the Fender Rhodes makes it. Nothing amazing – just a quick breather.

 

11. “Thirteen” – Big Star (1972)

How beautiful is this song? They play the melodrama of that age so well without forcing it. The song also does a nice job of showing how big and important everything felt at that age. Love the 12-string break at the bridge. It says so much in only about 2 ½ minutes, too.

 

12. “I Don’t Want to Walk Around With You” – The Ramones (1976)

If I was cynical, I could say this was the response from the girl in “Thirteen.” But I won’t. It’s the Ramones being the Ramones. No poetry – just direct statements turned into fantastic rock & roll. I imagine Dee Dee saying that to Joey, then Joey going home and writing the song in two minutes.

 

Great albums: Junior Brown, Guit with it (1993)

I’m not sure why Junior Brown isn’t more popular. He puts on a great live show. He’s a dazzling guitarist. And he writes and performs funny, clever, catchy, “old-school” country songs. This album is a great place to start learning about your new favorite artist. Even if you think you don’t like country music, this guy may change your mind.

Check out this live footage of Brown and his band, performing “My Wife Thinks You’re Dead,” which is featured on the “Guit with it” album. I don’t know what I love more: that Ernest Tubb-style hat, that crazy guit-steel guitar, that incredible bend he does in his first solo, they way he practically winks at you as he sings, or the fact that his drummer only needs a snare drum (with brushes!). Luckily, I don’t have to choose.

Anyway, if that music floats your boat, then check out “Guit with it,” which features more of that same breezy country music, highlighted by Brown’s guitar wizardry that’s one part Les Paul, one part Jimi Hendrix, and one part stuntman. (He even does a whole solo using nothing but his tuning peg!)

P.S. Did I mention that Junior Brown’s music has appeared on SpongeBob Squarepants? What’s not to love?

Great Playlists: The Magical Submarine

One of the nice things about shuffles is you get to hear songs out of their usual context, which can sometimes spark new insights. Such was the case this morning when the Beatles’ “Flying” suddenly floated up from my speakers. I wound up listening to it several times because I just couldn’t get over how incredible the song is. I know it’s usually described as a throw away. But even its simple introduction is completely unforgettable.

Anyway, I soon found myself reading about the Magical Mystery Tour, and I was surprised to see how many songs they recorded during those sessions that I had never associated with that album. For example, I didn’t realize that they began working on Yellow Submarine during the MMT sessions. (“Only a Northern Song” was actually begun during the Sgt Pepper sessions. Listen to that with “Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite” and you can hear the similarities.) Nor did I know that other songs like “Lady Madonna” and “Across the Universe” were also recorded then.

So, I created a playlist that encompassed everything the Beatles recorded from April of 1967 through February of 1968—from just after Sgt Pepper to just before the White album. Since they didn’t record a proper album during that time, I was hoping this playlist might resemble a sort of “missing” Beatles album.

Here is the playlist:

· All You Need Is Love
· Hey Bulldog
· Magical Mystery Tour
· Your Mother Should Know
· Only A Northern Song
· Lady Madonna
· Flying
· Hello, Goodbye
· The Inner Light
· The Fool On The Hill
· Across the Universe
· I Am The Walrus
· All Together Now
· Blue Jay Way
· You Know My Name (Look up the Number)
· Baby You’re A Rich Man
· It’s All Too Much

I originally listened to this playlist in shuffle mode but I have since assembled the order you see here. I like the flow. Also, I like the symmetry of starting with “All You Need Is Love” and ending with “It’s All Too Much.” But shuffle mode works, too.

One thing that becomes immediately clear is how well these songs fit together. Hearing them like this brings out the “psychedelic” touches of songs I wouldn’t have said were psychedelic. On “Across the Universe,” for example, the wah-wah and sitars are more prominent. (I recommend using the version from Past Masters, which has the nature sound effects in the beginning.) On “Lady Madonna” the “nose horns” in the bridge take on a whole new feel.

You also start to notice the similarities of these seemingly disparate songs. Note the outros for “All You Need is Love” and “It’s All Too Much” and the intros to “Blue Jay Way” and “Only a Northern Song.” Check out the clavoline in “Baby You’re a Rich Man” and the similar musical flights performed by the Indian instruments in “The Inner Light.” Songs that have previously been relegated to B-sides or compilations (“The Inner Light” and “You Know My Name”) suddenly have a proper context.

Suddenly we have a collection of songs that almost sounds like a real album. Granted, it’s a little long. But it’s a cool listen. Try it and let me know what you think.

Here is a cool promo video of the Beatles recording “Hey Bulldog.” It’s kind of a poignant moment, since this is cited as the last time they really recorded together on friendly terms. Plus, it’s a great song.

Needle in the Hay: The Thrills “So Much for the City” (2003)

 

When you have a large music collection, things tend to get lost. It’s like anything else. You’ve got a ton of Legos – you lose the little dudes heads from time to time. Too many pairs of sneakers? You forget you have that awesome pair of white Chuck Taylors you buried 2 years ago.

 

Ok Jim, enough with the analogies. Bottom line – it’s fun to rediscover music you forgot you had. Scott mentioned a cool Wrens record he happened upon in his latest shuffle album. My case in point, The Thrills’ 2003 debut album, So Much for the City.

 

A lot of the magic in finding these needles in the hay has to do with the timing. I found this record again during my long commute home on a sunny summer day. I was halfway home, felt pretty good and needed something summery.

 

And if one adjective could sum up this album, it’s “summery.”

 

The Thrills are from Dublin but grew up loving 60s and 70s American So-Cal pop. So as they starting becoming a serious, working band in Ireland, they decided to take a few months to hang out in San Diego to soak up the sun and write their debut album (Must be nice. –Ed.). That trip seems to have both informed the lyrical content of the album (song titles range from “Big Sur,” and “’Til the Tide Creeps In” to “Santa Cruz,” and “Don’t Steal Our Sun.”) as well as its colors and sounds.

 

And that sound is what makes this album great. Every instrument is so neatly placed and sounds so wonderful. The guitars are trebly and shiny, the Hammond is big and warm, the vocals are breathy and stacked to the heavens. A pedal steel waltzes in from time to time just lettin’ you know that the Byrds and the Dead (American Beauty-era of course) were here. Hell – they even throw in the occasional synthesizer line that gives away that they’re we’re not in 1970 anymore, but it somehow works.

 

Ground isn’t being broken lyrically, but the hooks and harmonies are so big that you tend to overlook what’s lacking in substance and focus on certain phrases that just add to the mood. “You’re love is like a city I visited…Just don’t go back to Big Sur….Deckchairs & cigarettes…Hollywood kids got it made.” It’s about the impression. 

The thing just drips with sandy, sunny, stoned California love. If I had pulled this up in February, I might not have enjoyed it so much. For now though, I’ve got a lot of summer and a lot of commuting left to enjoy it.

 

 

 

 

 

The Shuffle Album Vol. 3

With one exception, I don’t know if I could have put together a better mix if I had tried. Boy, you gotta love shuffles.

1. “See Emily Play” —Pink Floyd, Relics (1971)
What a great opening track to my morning shuffle. I don’t know that you can say enough great things about this song. I have a soft spot for the Syd Barrett-era Floyd and this is one of the main reasons why. Pure pop perfection. And I just want to give some props to the Relics album for collecting some of the Floyd’s best music from their early career.

2. “Blame it on Caine (Alternate)” —Elvis Costello, My Aim is True (One of the countless expanded versions)
Accoding to All Music, there are five versions of this album. Seems a bit excessive, no? Frankly, I have no idea which version I have. Nor, for the purpose of this article (or for pure listening enjoyment) do I care. This is a great acoustic version of one of the better songs from this album. And it’s a rather nice follow-up to See Emily Play.

3. “There was a Time” —T.Rex, Electric Warrior (1971)
I wouldn’t say I’m a big T.Rex fan (Let’s hear it for Jon’s Children!) but this was a cool (and short) track for this shuffle. Makes me want to give Electric Warrior another listen.

4. “Real Cool Time” —The Stooges, The Stooges (1969)
Damn! Just when you thought it couldn’t get better. All hail the Stooges. My favorite Stooges album is Fun House, but you gotta love this one, too. How about that guitar solo that takes the song out?

5. “Step into my Office, Baby” —Belle and Sebastian, Dear Catastrophe Waitress (2003)
How many epic songs can you think of about sexual harassment in the workplace? Our experts found 12 but unanimously agreed this was the best. Am I the only one who thinks this is their best album?

6. “Faster Gun” —The Wrens, The Meadowlands (2003)
I had to look this one up, as I’m not too familiar with the Wrens. I sure as heck want to be after hearing this cool gem. Love the ridiculously compressed vocals. Is that two-part harmony?

7. “Bled White” —Elliott Smith, XO (1998 )
He’s always good for a shuffle.

8. “Up ‘Gainst the Wall” —John Coltrane, The Classic Quartet (1998 )
With Coltrane, you never know if you’re going to hit a 20-minute song, right smack in the middle of your shuffle or not. This one was perfect, however.

9. “In Between Dreams” —The Residents, The Commercial Album (1980)
The Commercial Album is always great for a shuffle. With every song being just 1 minute long, it’s just the perfect amount of weirdness. And this one isn’t all that weird.

10. “Dialogue de Vent et de la Mer” —Claude Debussy, La Mer (1903)
Winning the award for the oldest piece of the shuffle album. I love me some Debussy, although this is the one song that I wouldn’t say exactly flows with the rest of the shuffle. Not to say that it’s not a killer piece of music. You can hear where so many jazz musicians and Stravinsky were inspired from Debussy. I prefer Debussy’s piano works, but his orchestral work is something else, too.

11. “Earth Angel” —Clinic, Internal Wrangler (2000)
Interesting how the last tune was about the ocean and this song opens with the sounds of gently crashing waves. Sometimes I think my iPod is smarter than it lets on. This first Clinic album is just perfection from beginning to end.

12. “Happiness is a Warm Gun” —The Beatles, The Beatles (Mono!) (1968 )
So I once purchased the mono mix of the White Album in an Ebay Auction and it was the best $50 I ever spent, especially since after I ripped it to my iPod, I then resold it for $50. For those of you who don’t know about the mono mixes, there are plenty of great articles about them online. I prefer the mono mix of the White Album, but perhaps that’s just because it’s a refreshing listen after hearing the stereo mix for so long. Anyway, I doubt I can say anything about this song that hasn’t been said a million times, other than it was a rather nice follow-up to Clinic’s tune. And that I also really dig the Breeders’ version.

Favorite track: I’m gonna have to go with “Faster Gun.”

Critics Schmitics! Rehearsing My Choir, The Fiery Furnaces (2005)

I don’t care what anyone says: This is my favorite Fiery Furnaces album. This is the one I keep coming back to. The one that stays with me. The one that constantly surprises me. And for better or worse, due to the critical and fan reaction to this album, it’s surely to be the only one of its kind.

I know it’s a very different listening experience from their other albums. There aren’t any “songs” in the traditional sense. The music careens all over the place, with little rhyme or reason. It’s hard to tell when one “song” ends and another begins. It’s mostly a spoken word experience and Olga Sarantos’ voice takes some getting used to. The “story” makes little sense. And you certainly can’t sing along. All of that is true and all of those are all pluses in my book.

I love the other FF albums, but they seem a little detached to me compared to this gem. RMC is a firsthand account of the Friedberger’s grandmother’s life, so it has an emotional weight to it that the other albums lack. We hear fantastic tales (e.g. a doctor who heals with donut ingredients), heartbreaking tales (e.g. a grandmother lamenting her granddaughter’s wild childhood), comic tales (e.g. the bitter rivalry between the grandmother and the local bishop), and elegiac tales (the death of Sarantos’ husband). All these are told seemingly at random and are backed by some of the most daring music the FF have ever created.

Sometimes the surreal can say more about life than realism can. (Technically, this album may not be “surreal” but it’s the best word I can come up with at the moment.) The best surreal art, through its unexpected juxtapositions and dreamlike imagery, transcends logic and shines a mystical light on reality, newly illuminating some facet of existence. Of course, it’s a fine line between a surreal work that’s thrilling and one that’s just plain confusing. And some may argue that RMC is just that. But for me, somehow it all hangs together. No matter how crazy some of the musical and narrative segues are, it works. And it consistently astonishes.

There aren’t too many recordings I can think of that reach the same dizzying heights as RMC. The Beautiful Hangman’s Daughter by the Incredible String Band and the early Firesign Theatre albums are the only two I can think of. Note that those examples are from the late 60s / early 70s, along with Bunuel’s The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie and Richard Brautigan’s Trout Fishing in America. Perhaps the time for this kind of art has passed. But I hope not.

If you’ve previously dismissed RMC, give it a second chance. Think of it as a wonderfully bizarre radio play. You may discover hours upon hours of joy. And sorrow.

“Listen to this tune that I’m playing for you now, kids. Does it seem sad? Does it remind you of when?”

Check out this cool video of Eleanor Friedberger and Olga Santos, being interviewed by Matt Friedberger about this album.

“Dress Blues” Jason Isbell (2007)

I can usually take or leave protest songs. Something about musicians talking politics directly (as opposed to burying politics in blankets of pop hooks) bores me.

 

It’s not that I don’t think musicians have the right to talk politics. After all, if we’re able to debate things amongst friends, shouldn’t songwriters be able to express their opinions on matters not just of love and relationships?

 

I guess it’s just that I’d rather keep pop music for my escape as opposed to another thing keeping me in reality.

 

That being said, Jason Isbell’s “Dress Blues” is as beautiful and powerful a war-themed song as I’ve ever heard. It’s only about a year old and to me, it carries as much weight as such nuggets as Bob Dylan’s “Masters of War,” U2’s “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” or even Green Day’s “American Idiot”. 

 

Why? It’s a war song but it’s not political.

 

Instead, it’s more of a resigned conversation between two friends, one the 1^st person singer, the other his friend who’s no longer here. The singer does most of the talking as he first recounts his friend’s willingness to jump at a cause then later his sadness that he didn’t really think through what he was doing.  

 

 Maybe eighteen was too early.
Maybe thirty or forty is too.
Did you get your chance to make peace with the man
before he sent down his angels for you?

 

Mamas and grandmamas love you

That’s all they know how to do

You never planned on the bombs in the sand

Or sleeping in your dress blues.

 

It’s just such a simple and fragile human feeling that Isbell seems to completely understand. He captures that post-teenage invincibility that when put up against something too hard, can go away as quickly as it came.

 

Then he hits us with the devastating 2^nd verse where our decisions aren’t ours alone.

 

Your wife said this all would be funny
when you came back home in a week.
You’d turn twenty-two and we’d celebrate you
in a bar or a tent by the creek.
Your baby would just about be here.
Your very last tour would be up
but you won’t be back. They’re all dressing in black
drinking sweet tea in styrofoam cups.

Isbell throws in a few little opinions here and there later on –  “American boys hate to lose,” “…to fight somebody’s Hollywood war,” but they’re done subtly. It’s almost like you’re hearing the family of the song’s main character talking with one another at a barbecue as opposed to Isbell telling you how he personally feels.

 

I’ll leave the rest of the lyrics for you to discover but I’ll say that Verse 3 is just as beautiful and sad as the rest of the song. Musically, it’s all pedal steel, piano, and southern melancholy, tastefully produced and played. It’s all arranged so you don’t miss a word.

 

That seems to be in general what Isbell wanted to get across here. He’s got his own opinions on our world but instead of shouting from a soapbox, he’ll sit you down and tell you a story.

 

“Unsatisfied” – The Replacements (1984)

I know, I know. Another music blogger talking about The Replacements and how they could’ve been the best thing ever if it wasn’t for their self-destruction, chemistry issues, and songs about boners. 

It seems impossible for music writers today to write about the band without heaping all kinds of gushy praise all over them; building up their achievements, giggling about their mistakes and glorifying their consumption.

I don’t wanna do that. Instead, this is merely a few paragraphs about a song I just started to love on an album I just started to enjoy. That’s right, I’m 31 and and just getting to The Replacements’ Let it Be.

I’ve had a copy of Tim for years and I like it ok. Some great songs, some not so great. Then a few weeks ago I picked up a new biography of the band at the library because I’ve always been interested in their story (maybe more so than their songs up to this point) and because it was at the library (read: free). That, along with every critic ever’s opinion that Let it Be is THE BEST ALBUM OF ALL TIME forced me to revisit a copy Scott made for me a few years back and “Unsatisfied.”

What’s immediately striking about the song is where it sits on the album – right after a cover of Kiss’ “Black Diamond.” Yes. That Kiss. The band Kiss. And the cover is serious. So you’re thrown for a loop wondering if this is for real and you get hit with this melancholy 12-string guitar intro that kicks into a classic chugging, chiming riff that’s both very 60s and very 80s.

Then the great opening chorus:

Look me in the eye and tell me that I’m satisfied. Are you satisfied?

It really doesn’t get more direct and conversational than that. It’s a beautiful line delivered with Paul Westerberg’s scraping, smoked-out voice as if he’s hit the breaking point in the argument and it’s the last thing he can say before walking away. What argument? Who knows? It’s so universal that it can mean anything to anybody. Who isn’t unsatisfied about something?

I’m a sucker for that romantic/affected but drunk and ragged songwriting style that Westerberg helped to patent and this song really reflects that.

We finally get to the verse at 1:24 and by then it sounds like a half-written bridge because every piece of this song that’s not the chorus just feels like it’s rushing to get back to it. It’s just that strong. In fact, I don’t even need the freakin’ verses.

Westerberg gets to the chorus again with more authority and each time he repeats it, he’s breaking down more until he’s finally screaming, “I’m so! I’m so! Unsatisfied!”. He’s trying to be punk rock and folky at the same time but neither will let the other take over. Sounds terrible, right? It’s not.

He’s just so damned earnest and real that you can’t help but be moved.

And that’s kind of the point for me with this song. It’s rare that a songwriter can put that one definitive line together with the perfect beat and arrangement and make it so interesting that you could listen to that one bit for 4 minutes. That what this song is for me. Musically, you’ve heard it once, you’ve got it. Without the chorus, it’s any rock & roll song.

But man, I could listen to that chorus all day.

P.S.: One of the all-time great album covers.