One Night at Benaroya

I’m convinced that some of the most memorable experiences in life can’t be replicated. That was the case about 10 years ago when Kim told me Tracy Chapman was coming to Benaroya Hall in Seattle. At the time, I didn’t work too far from Benaroya, and I mistakenly assumed I could stop by the box office on the way to work to purchase two tickets the day the tickets went on sale.

When that day arrived, phone lines and the website were jammed, and tickets sold out in 10 minutes.

I’d heard of Chapman before I met Kim but didn’t own any of her music. I was hooked the first time I heard “Talkin’ Bout a Revolution”

And finally the tables are starting to turn
Talking about a revolution
Finally the tables are starting to turn
Talking about a revolution oh no

Over the next couple of weeks I scoured Craigslist and Ebay for tickets. I hit a number of dead ends, but finally found a man willing to sell me two tickets for five times face value. I had no idea where the seats were located, but the concert was approaching and I’d heard the acoustics at Benaroya were excellent from any section. I paid the scalper cash and prayed the tickets weren’t counterfeit.

I’ve been to a number of sold-out concerts, but none of them approached the electricity outside Benaroya the evening of the concert. Kim and I stood on the sidewalk among a sea of Chapman fans with tickets in hand. People were dancing and singing. Many were holding signs trying anything they could to secure tickets.

Two women that night are still etched in my memory. A mother and daughter had driven three hours from Portland with hopes of finding tickets. The daughter was crying when she realized tickets were not going to be easy to come by if at all. She wandered through the crowd offering $800 for two tickets. I turned to Kim and said, “Would you sell them for a thousand bucks?”

I didn’t have to wait for an answer. Tracy Chapman seldom goes on tour, and this might be our only chance to see her in concert.

And thank goodness we decided not to sell. After a short wait, we entered the concert hall, the home of the Seattle Symphony. I was blown away at the workmanship and architecture of the structure. I had no idea where our seats were located so I handed our tickets to an usher. He instructed us to follow him. He lead us to the balcony and continued towards the stage. I kept turning to Kim. This couldn’t be happening. No way could we have lucked into such great seats. We took our seats on the balcony that overlooked the stage. We could not have asked for better view of the stage.

Tracy came out dressed in black from head to toe with a black guitar slung over her shoulder. Her band joined her on stage, and we listened and watched the most inspiring performance either of us has ever seen. I felt like the only person in attendance who didn’t know the lyrics to every song. I didn’t regret deciding to hold on to the tickets although I sat there hoping the mother and daughter from Portland were experiencing the same.

I often think back to that night and realize it will likely never be duplicated. Kim and I have attended a number of concerts since that night. On the way home we’ll talk about how much we enjoyed the concert, and discuss our favorite songs. But, inevitably, one of us will say, “Tonight was good, but remember that one night at Benaroya…?”

George Winston at the Rialto Theater

We sat in the first three seats of row G on the left side of the Rialto Theater because anyone who’s seen George Winston in concert knows that provides the best angle from which to see his fingers dance across the keys of the Steinway grand.

Kim and I decided to invite Luca along. This would be her first concert and, although she’s taken piano lessons for a couple of years, I wasn’t sure he’d keep her interest for two hours.

I shouldn’t have been concerned.

Winston played a number of songs from albums we listen to at home, such as Summer and December. But he also played two slack key guitar tunes and one harmonica number. I could have listened for another two hours.

I’ve seen him in concert seven times now. Each time he walks on stage in jeans, button down shirt, and socks. He’s soft spoken, and seldom tells you much about himself other than who or what influenced his music. He ends each number the same way he always has. As the clapping comes to a stop he says, “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

Have you ever felt overwhelmed in the presence of talent? I feel a rush of emotion rush through my body as I listen and watch him play. When Winston announced he was going play a song called “Woods”, Luca leaned over and said she liked this one. She held my hand for the next seven minutes as we listened to one of our favorite songs.

That was the best part of a memorable date with Kim and our oldest daughter.

Letter From Home

At first all I could see were arms waving. As I got closer I recognized the police uniform. The first thought that rushed through my mind was, “I wonder how fast I was going?”

I couldn’t tell if I was supposed to pull over, so I slowed down until he began pointing towards a side street. I didn’t have time to flip on my right blinker, but I made a slow right turn, drove 20 yard before pulling over to the right side of the street.

But where was the other officer? Don’t they work in pairs? I checked my rearview mirror assuming the officer who motioned for me to turn would be coming up from behind me. But he wasn’t. Soon other cars were passing me on the left and proceeding down the street.

No ticket. Just a detour. One that would turn my 60 minute commute home into twice that. And this was the only thing that turned in my favor this week.

As much as I enjoy playing basketball and racquetball, my body pays the price for the rest of the week. I feel great during the games, but I find it difficult to sleep through the aches on pains. The injuries would hardly be worth mentioning if I were in my 20’s. But seemingly insignificant muscle strains have a way of lingering once I hit 40.

Ever felt your life was out of sync? That’s how I’ve felt this week, and the injuries to my hand and foot seem to flair up when I’m trying to fall asleep. During these times I tend to seek out my headphones and music to take my mind off my ailments.

But tonight Kim was playing the piano and the kids had gathered around to listen. Luca asked me to rub her feet which I do while she reads a book. It’s not long before Lincoln and Anna join us in various positions on our small, uncomfortable couch. Lincoln proudly tells us he’s memorized our home telephone number, and proceeds to recite five numbers that appear to be chosen at random.

We listen to Kim practice a few more song until she pulls out a song I’ve not heard her play for many months: Pat Metheny’s Letter From Home. It’s a mixture of melancholy and beauty and could not be a more appropriate song for how I feel. The song is short yet each note is played with reverence.

I’ve had friends lift my spirit before. And certainly our children have provided laugher or just the perfect amount of goofiness to lighten the mood.

Tonight Kim did it with music.

Running To Stand Still

“Don’t turn off the car”, I told my friend. I had to hear the song blasting through the radio.

We’d just returned from the movie theater where we took in Batman. It was the summer of 1989 only a few months before thousands of East Germans would climb a wall and into the history books.

I sat in the passenger seat of my friend’s Chrysler Laser while Bono belted out a tune I’d never heard before. I don’t know how it escaped me since “The Joshua Tree” had been released two years previously.

I like to sing although I’ve never felt comfortable doing so. But if I had three wishes, one of them would be to sing like this.

I don’t believe in the perfect song. “Mother” from Pink Floyd is close. But “Running To Stand Still” may be the closest to perfection.

The Pretender

The first time I heard Jackson Browne’s “The Pretender”, I didn’t think much of it. I bought the used CD because I enjoy his best known album, “Running on Empty”.

But after one late night study session at the University of Utah, I headed down interstate 15 in my Acura Integra. It was the first car I owned that came with a CD player. I decided to give the Pretender another shot.

I didn’t think much of it until I began pulling up the street to my apartment, and I heard this amazing piano accompany these lyrics:

Say a prayer for the pretender?

Are you there for the pretender?

Say a prayer for the pretender.

Oh, are you there for the pretender?

Are you prepared the pretender?

That voice and the lyrics and that piano. I couldn’t stop listening so I drove past my apartment and continued down Orchard Drive until I was back on the interstate. It didn’t matter where. All that mattered was that I had to hear this song over and over, and the only CD player I owned was attached to this car.

I’ve heard Jackson Browne describe what influenced him to write the Pretender. But I interpreted differently. I didn’t have enough experience behind me at the time to feel like I’d abandoned my dreams for a life of commercialism.

My interpretation was simple: I was a pretender.

I was going through the motions at school, in my marriage, in my church calling and most of my friendships. Giving just enough to each to keep them alive but not enough to keep them off life support. I was a pretender.

I hid behind the facade of busy. It wasn’t difficult to look like I had my act together. I had little free time so I must be accomplishing something, right? Each day was filled with classes, studying, work and more studying. But I was a pretender.

Is there an age where one wakes up feeling like an adult? I assumed that would happen when I graduated from college? Or maybe when I got married or the first job that came with an office and business cards? Certainly it would happen once I became a father?

With age comes experience. Trials provide opportunities to mature. I’m not as stupid and naive as I was the night drove through Salt Lake listening to Jackson Browne.

Nobody has pulled back the curtain to expose how little I know and how often I act like I know what I’m doing when, in reality, I have no idea.

I’ve even come to terms with the fact that there are times where all I can do is pretend to know what I’m doing.

For example, when Kim asks me select church outfits for our daughters. Or when Anna asked me why some guys have boobs.

Say a prayer for the pretender.

Rdio: Streaming Music Done Right

I haven’t reviewed a product on this blog for some time time. It’s not that I don’t enjoy writing about products, but I find other bloggers do it a lot better. But occasionally, I come across a product that I enjoy and want to tell you about it. That’s the case with rdio.

My short review is this: If you want access (web or iPhone/iPod Touch, Blackberry, and eventually Android) to a lot of music in a simple to understand and easy to use web service, then rdio is well worth the $5 or $10/month subscription fee.

Rdio was created by the founders of Skype, and their desire to keep the UI clean and simple is apparent the first time you login. I’ve used Napster, Rhapsody, and Zune Pass before, and although each had a feature or two that caught my attention, none of them held my interest for more than a few months.

I’ve been a heavy Last.FM user for the past few years. It’s a great way to discover new music. But there are times when I want to listen to an entire album and Last.FM and Pandora are not able to do that.

My perfect service would combine the deep catalog of rdio and the serendipity of Last.FM and Pandora. But that’s for another post.

Rdio does allow me to follow friends who also subscribe to the service and listen to their playlists as well as leave comments on them. That helps me discover new music, but I hope one day they allow me to add stations based on my collection. For example, if Rdio knows I like Chris Botti, it might create a station of similar artists including Till Bronner. Rdio does show “similar artists” and “inspired by” which helps in discovering new music. For example, when I click on Pink Floyd, rdio suggests I might like The Moody Blues, Yes, Queen or Peter Gabriel. That sounds about right.

I should mention that rdio allows me to create a collaborative playlist. This didn’t sound very useful to me at first. But I recently came across a scenario where I believe this feature would be of great value: Say I like the song “Watercolors” by the Postmarks, yet I don’t know a lot about the group or its influences. I could create a playlist with one song and allow my friends to add their recommendations to that playlist.

When you first login to the service, rdio asks for your permission to scan your iTunes library whereby it will create a collection based on the music you own which can be found on rdio. My music tastes trend toward classic rock and jazz, and rdio was able to match over 90% of it.

To be clear, rdio does not take your collection of mp3s and upload it to their servers. It merely tells you which artists and albums of your current collection can be streamed from rdio. This is a helpful starting point until you’ve created new playlists from the rdio website.

The picture below shows how rdio allows me to see what’s popular among my collection, my friends or all subscribers.

Or you can find an artist, such as the Clash, and play any song or album.

Rdio makes it easy to create a playlist like I’ve done below. Or you can queue up songs to play as you navigate through the service.

Again, the focus is on ease of use. Rdio does not include as many tracking metrics found at Zune or Last.FM. I’m sure many of the social features of rdio will be fleshed out over time as the service moves out of beta.

As of today, you’ll need an invite in order to use rdio. I was able to test drive the service for about 20 days before deciding to pay the $5/month subscription fee. Another $5/month allows you to stream to your mobile device.

The service is not perfect. I’d like to see better playlist management and it never hurts to add more artists. I’m certain their library will continue to grow with the service, but it’s already quite good.

But I’m absolutely hooked on rdio. I listen to it while working at the computer at home as well as at work. It’s decreased the amount of money I spend at the Amazon MP3 store and iTunes. Also, I find using iTunes an exercise in frustration, but necessary evil which accompanies my decision to own an iPhone. Yet rdio feels modern and is a lot of fun to use.

Pros:

Simple and elegant design
Instant access to most any song or album
Easy playlist creation
Most competitors charge $15/month. Rdio is $5/month for web streaming and $10/month for web + mobile devices.
Can scrobble to my Last.FM account

Cons:

Obscure music tastes may not be a good match until catalog grows.
Occasional service slow downs
No way to create “stations”

If you’ve made it this far and would like to test drive rdio, leave a comment and I’ll email an invite to the first three. If I can convince rdio to give me more invites, I’ll hand those out as well.

Update: @kgoyette showed me that rdio does allow one to create stations based on an specific artist. Click on any artist and off to the right you’ll see “Artist Radio” which plays songs from artists in the “similar artist” section. Awesome!

Technorati Tags: rdio,music,streaming music service

Sweet Emotion

My care-free summers as a kid included watching Fact of Life. I had a crush on Blair, which was unfortunate, because none of the girls in my fourth grade class could live up to the the standard set by her. Even if she was Junior high age. And had a full-time makeup artist.

Of course, it wasn’t cool to admit the crush so I kept it to myself and made sure the girls my age never found out. Nobody would have believed me had I told them I watched Facts of Life for the story arc.

Utah summers are warm, and when I wasn’t swimming or watching Blair, I was calling the radio stations to request my favorite tunes.

I couldn’t afford to purchase albums. On rare occurrences, my mom would let me choose a 45 if she liked the song and I happened to have tagged along to ZCMI with her. With those restrictions in place, I ended up listening to a collection of ABBA, Donna Summer and deeps cuts from the Jazz Singer soundtrack.

Otherwise I had to wait for the DJ to spin up my favorites. It would be a few more years before I had a cassette recorder. My grandfather gave me a digital clock radio for Christmas one year. I spent every night laying in my bed hoping for my favorite songs to play through the tiny mono speaker. If I was lucky, my parents were upstairs and I could sneak the phone into my room and call the stations and plead with the DJ to play Starlight Vocal Band’s “Afternoon Delight”. I had no idea what the lyrics meant.

Remember the feeling when you’d hear a song for the first time and it felt like it belonged to you? That’s how it was with “Sweet Emotion”. I’d never heard anything like it before. Starts off sounding like someone is strangling a guitar followed by….a rattlesnake? What is going on here?

I’d never heard anyone play that hard. One could feel the energy. Will there be anything left of their instruments by the time this song ends?

And the lyrics. Oh the wondrous lyrics that sounded wild enough to be cool but not raunchy enough to be banned at our house.

“Said my get up and go musta got up and went…”

I didn’t have the internet to look up the lyrics or the album linear notes. All I cared about was how it made me FEEL. That’s what great music does. You feel it.

What’s the last song you felt?

Link to Sweet Emotion on YouTube.

Last Another Day

The rain was coming down at a pace that didn’t match my wipers: Too much for intermittent but not enough for the slowest setting.

But that didn’t bother me today because having to flip the stalk every few seconds kept me alert during my drive up the mountain.

Once I get out of Redmond I can relax. I make my way through Bellevue before merging onto I90 that takes me up Snoqualmie canyon before jumping on Highway 18. The highway cuts a swath through the hills of Issaquah before dropping into Auburn valley.

The last twenty minutes are the best part of the trip. I zip down hills and around corners through a majestic forest marred only by this two lane highway. Traffic is nearly non-existent, and I suspect a number of enthusiasts choose this route rather than continue down 405 to 167.

But something didn’t feel right.

My day was filled with interruptions. That’s part of my job, and normally I don’t mind. But today it caught up with me. Finally, near 4 pm I was able to complete the two tasks I had to finish today. Two tasks in eight hours?

I flipped on Last.FM hoping some music would cheer me up before I arrived home, and this is what I heard from the Acid House Kings:

I’ve been heading home
I’ve been going wrong
It’s been this way for so long…

So, come on and be my light
Come on and lead the way
And people speak I hear them saying
You won’t last another day…

Maybe it’s the blah of the new year after the holidays. Or the kids getting back into school after a few weeks off. I should have taken more time off over the holidays because I feel burned out and in need of a vacation. It’s dark when I leave the house. It’s darker when I return home. Feels like life is passing me by.

But this song cheers me up. I’m headed home to my family. I know my dog will be the first to greet me, followed by Kai who will grab my leg and lead me to the kid’s computer where he’ll beg for Dora the Explorer on Netflix.

As much as I appreciate Kim having dinner ready when I arrive home, I was happy to find her resting on the couch with the kids climbing all over her.

I will “last another day”.

It Might Get Loud

It’s been a while since I’ve had a smile on my face through an entire film, but It Might Get Loud did that to me today.

My brother told me about the film a few weeks ago and we both watched it this weekend. That kicked off a number of email exchanges detailing our favorite segments and concluded with a two hour phone conversation this evening. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop talking about it.

The documentary is about three guitar legends: Jimmy Page, The Edge and Jack White. If you play music you’ll love it. If you love music you’ll love it. There’s not ten seconds of dullness to be found here.

My favorite segment: All three guys are chatting on the couch when Jimmy begins sharing a story about a manager who challenged him to expand on a section of chords he’d been playing around with. While The Edge and Jack watch, Jimmy grabs his guitar and strums that killer opening riff to “Whole Lotta Love”. The camera pans and you see both Jack and The Edge look on in wonderment.

It would have been easy for Page to dominate the film. Yet it’s his humble approach and willingness to play the music of fellow guitarists that makes this work shine.

My Favorite Group of 2009

One of my favorite iTunes features is the play count column. Occasionally I’ll sort my playlists using this column to see which songs I’ve listened to the most.

Looking over the last year, the top of my most played list is dominated by Ivy who I found through Last.FM this year.

The first song I heard, "Edge of the Ocean”, is my favorite. It’s both mellow and upbeat, and it puts me in a good mood when I’m down. It’s such a simple song with simple lyrics. I’m surprised I’ve not tired of it.

I love the soothing voice of lead singer, Dominique Durand.

There’s a place I dream about
Where the sun never goes out
And the sky is deep and blue
Won’t you take me there with you

[audio:edgeofocean.mp3]

One other song I enjoy is “Ocean City Girl”. Same smooth vocals, but a bit more reflective.

The night is falling; the streetlights start to glow
No one’s there when the cracks begin to show
They can’t hurt her like she’s been hurt before
No one here can get near her anymore

[audio:oceancitygirl.mp3]

Give them a listen and see what you think. What is your favorite group or musician you discovered this year?