Lists Are Stupid

Lists, I repeat, are stupid. So I shall be offering one of my own.

I took a couple of weeks off from writing anything here, mostly because I was too busy with the beginning of the school year, but also because I didn't have much to say (even relative to what I say here), and because I get apoplectic (can one get a bit apoplectic?) about the Bush administration and its approach to the U.S. Constitution. (The line I hear now, for the most part, is that a) we are at war [and, according to Donald Rumsfeld, evidently channeling George Orwell, we always will be] and that b) the American people are willing to give up (some unspecified number of) their rights for security [although they probably aren't getting increased security, and this is an administration that doesn't look at polls, except those polls that support its violation of the law]. The temerity of doing something that increasingly appears to involve a substantial violation of the law is somehow not exacerbated by the Administration bragging about it. Quite a strategy.)

So I decided to offer a list. Stupidly.

I was in Starbucks this morning, visiting my drug dealer, and saw that Elvis Costello has a CD subtitled "Music that Meant the Most to Me." So I decided it would be kind of fun to imagine Starbucks calling me with an offer to do one of my own.

I limited myself to 20 songs, and to "popular" songs (so no Villa-Lobos Bachianas Brasileiras, no Bartok Concerto for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta, no Mahler Eighth, no Gershwin Rhapsody in Blue), whatever the hell "popular" means. What this mostly shows, of course, is how great song #21 is (my guess is that is would be Tammy Wynette's "I Don't Want to Play House"), and reveals a long list of names that didn't make it, as if they are somehow inferior. They aren't. This, again, reveals how stupid lists are, and odd that it makes one feel as if he or she is lacking integrity or violating a moral rule by leaving off someone--immediately I see monumental lacunae: James Brown, George Jones, Talking Heads, Merle Haggard, Memphis Minnie, The Rolling Stones, Duke Ellington, Tampa Red, Emmylou Harris, Louis Armstrong, Professor Longhair, Joe Ely, and on and on and on. And on.

So here's the list, in alphabetical order, with a brief (albeit superfluous) comment. And if you're that guy in the suburbs of Coeur D'Alene who reads this, offer up one of your own!



Ain't That Peculiar (Marvin Gaye)
What? No Tammy Terrell?

Bee Bop A Lula (Gene Vincent)
So Pure. So very Pure.

Body and Soul (Bill Monroe)
I heard Ronnie McCoury sing a very soulful
version of this last night.

Bye Bye Blackbird (Miles Davis)
From "'Round Midnight," as good as a jazz
record--any record--gets.

Can't Stop Now (New Grass Revival)
If only to hear John Cowan hit that closing note.

Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the Ground (Willie Johnson)
Ry Cooder does a nice version of this, which he
then adapted into the soundtrack for "Paris, Texas."

Deep River Blues (Doc Watson)
Right. Only one song from Doc.

Don't Worry Baby (Los Lobos)
I could choose another thirty, easy, from these guys. A rare group,
as good live as they are in the studio; very creative, very sound
musicians, always stretching themselves. I chose this
because the "hook" reminds me of Texas.

Georgia Rag (Willie Mctell)
The master of the 12-string.

Head Over Heels (Flatt and Scruggs)
Many to choose from here. Earl is soooooooo cool.

Hellhound on My Trail (Robert Johnson)
I once had to take this record off (back when there
were records); too intense.

Love and Happiness (Al Green)
My friend Polly Hoover said Al Green was the only
artist who could sing gospel music that would make
you want to take your clothes off.

Love Minus Zero, No Limit (Bob Dylan)
Knockdown evidence that lists are stupid.

Maybelline (Chuck Berry)
I heard a guy once say that it was not all that suprising
that one of the great love songs of all time was written
to a car.

Rosalita (Bruce Springsteen; live)
If you've seen Bruce do this (especially in the "olden days"),
you know what I mean.

She Watch Channel Zero?! (Public Enemy)
Another one of my "greatest concerts" (uh-oh--I sense another
list coming)--I wonder if this was inspired by Gil Scott Heron?

The Weight (Staples Singers)
Specifically the studio version from "The Last Waltz." Before I
got married, I told my wife-to-be that Mavis Staples was the only
woman I would leave her for.

Viva Sequin (Flaco Jimeñez)
There's got to be some dancing, right?

Whippin' Post (Allman Brothers)
As Duane closes out this number, up around fret # 20, we
understand: this is the blues.

Yellow Rose of Texas (Ry Cooder)
This song got me through some rough rough times once.