Issue 14: Re by John Book
It's been a few days over a year since I wrote my last "Issues Of A Music Junkie", and for that I apologize. Many of you had written to me when I had posted previous columns, with some good comments, praise, criticisms, all of that. Mahalo nui loa (thank you very much) for doing so.
So what have I been doing in the last 378 days or so? Obviously, listening to a lot of music. Outside of that, trying to figure out what path to lead in my life, wondering if what I'm doing (and what I'm NOT doing) is the right thing to do. Is it good for me? Am I doing it for something else? In other words, a lot of self-reflection, trying to figure out the next phase. I've just started work on a brand new album, which I will have out sometime in 2005. I'm also writing a book, a music one of course, and also have a children's book that I will shop around in the coming months. Trying to keep busy when I'm not busy, if that makes any sense.
What you're here for is to read about me, or more specifically, my issues as a music junkie. As a music junkie, I think the United States is truly a prison. I can also say the same applies as a Hawaiian, but that's another story, another time. For those of you outside of the United States, you may be asking "but the United States is, if not the source, the center of some of the greatest music around the world". That definitely is true, be it blues, jazz, country, rhythm & blues, and rock & roll. But music, at its best, is a celebration of emotion, and an exchange of ideas, between people, between cultures, between countries, between different ideas and philosophies. Yet if one goes into a record store these days, you'll find that a good portion of the history of American music isn't even there. Oh, you'll find your country compilations, your 20 volume disco CD series, and of course a big section of the store dedicated to Ciara's "Goodies" or souvenir R. Kelly urine sample necklaces, with a nice smock of lipstick on it. The United States is a huge country, with well over 250,000,000 people, yet the world doesn't revolve around Los Angeles, San Francisco, Austin, Philadelphia, or New York. I pretty much live in Podunk, yet while Podunk as an actual place doesn't exist, the concepts and ideals do, and I live there every day. In other words, if you are a music junkie and you live in a small town, you're shit out of luck.
Or are you?
Naturally, all you have to do is save up your money and drive out of town. For me it's Seattle, Washington; Portland, Oregon; or if I don't want to make a big drive, I'll drive up north to Spokane, Washington. There are loads of used record stores, and I love them, nothing will ever take away my love for vinyl. But I do like the convenience of compact discs, and being able to hear unreleased music, outtakes, alternate takes, and consume the music while reading the liner notes. I like buying new music, even though I now have the convenience of downloading pretty much anything and everything I can find, for free. If I want to download a live show by a taper-friendly band, I can use BitTorrent and download some SHN or FLAC files.
I was lucky to have grown up in a household where what kind of music I listened to was never an issue. Never. There was no such thing as "this music is bad", or "this music is better", I was allowed to listen to whatever I wanted. I embraced Earth Wind & Fire, Ohio Players, Parliament, Funkadelic, The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Santana, Miles Davis, Alice Cooper, Sunday Manoa, Hui Ohana, and whatever I wanted at an early age. In the late 1970's, radio was quite diverse in Honolulu, or at least it was in Honolulu where diversity was never an issue. I could listen to Foxy, Electric Light Orchestra, Sweet, Juice Newton, Delbert McClinton, Crystal Gayle, and Patrick Hernandez back to back. I loved it, because even though I may not have liked a song, there was always another in about four minutes, and in many ways hearing music I didn't appreciate at first (such as country) would somehow make its way into my brain, perhaps to be waiting for a good time to unleash itself.
Rap music came at the right time, and in time it too would embrace a lot of styles of music, just as I did. However, it too also limited itself. I was not satisfied, so that would lead me to becoming a record collector.
I'm not someone who has to have every record ever released, but I do want to hear as many songs, albums, box sets as possible. If there was a job where I could listen to music all day and night, write about it for publication, and get paid, I would take it in an instant.
The whole point behind this entry of "Issues Of A Music Junkie" is to say how jealous I am of you people in England. I'll pick up an issue of "Mojo" and browse through the ads and read the reviews, and I am overwhelmed by what seems to be an appreciation of music. Not just American music, but all recorded music. Special box sets, deluxe editions, bonus DVD's... oh we have them in the United States too, but "buying music" as a means of entertainment is at an all time low. It's as if some Americans don't know how to listen to music, or how to use music as a means of "listening pleasure". There is no emphasis on "the listening experience". The industry says they are losing billions of dollars, yet ask music fans and they'll tell you that they would buy music if the music was good. Finding rare or independent music isn't an issue anymore, when the internet makes it possible to buy from online merchants who specialize in indie music, or you can buy it from the artist themselves. It blows me away to see a review in "Mojo" for a music scene that no one ever heard about, yet will magnify it by saying "this scene may have been small, but for the collective which made the scene, it was the world to them". That makes me curious about the music, and I'll want to hear it. Or to see compilations for a label that very few people cared about. Or perhaps the concept of "record label" is non-existent for today's music fans, who only know about the thrill of a song by how fast it takes to hit the hard drive.
In the United States, it's almost as if music is treated as a fashion, and if that fashion is out of style, everyone seeks the next fashion so they can be hip and trendy. A perfect example is the much-discussed Northern Soul movement. I've read many interviews from well known British DJ's who talk about coming to the United States for record buying excursions, and being shocked that this music, in the American backyard, is not even embraced. It's the same old Motown crap. A part of the love of "Northern Soul" is, oddly enough, being a variation on a vibe, the vibe being that of Motown. If it's not the Four Tops, it's something a bit more obscure, yet has the same warmth and feeling. A fan of that style of music, to recapture that feeling for 2:55 or less, will do anything to find that record. Or they'll do the research, dip into the funds, and release it themselves.
Here in the U.S., if it's old, it's in a museum, and I don't know if this is how it's always been. There was an interview with musician Carlos Santana, and he said it was a disgrace how the American media ignored the death of jazz drummer Elvin Jones. For most people, jazz music is dead unless it sounds like Kenny G. and is heard while you browse the poetry section at the book store in your local shopping mall. The Ken Burns' mini-series on Jazz didn't change a damn thing, nor did Martin Scorcese's Blues series of films. What I liked about the Blues films was that it showed me a British perspective of blues and jazz that I never really had known, even though I've been a fan of blues and jazz for years. It talked about how one's skin tone was never an issue, yet when people like Eric Clapton and Jeff Beck would come to the United States, they would be shocked to see the divisions which existed. Paul McCartney was asked about who some of his favorite musicians were, he mentioned Muddy Waters. The American reporter replied "where is that?", and McCartney in shock said "you don't even know your own musicians?" It may have been a shock for Americans in 1964 that a white man from Great Britain admitted his love for the music created by a black man. Yet in 2004, that shock still exists. It honestly makes no sense to me. That inner sense of racism, that insecurity, was something I never experienced until I moved to the continental United States from Honolulu, Hawai'i in 1984. Twenty years later, I still don't get it. Why should one hesitate because of one's skin color? Hell, why should one resist listening to a style of music because they may feel it's not "their own"?
Yet the United States regularly discards music that is "their own", only to be embraced by European and Japanese audiences. I'm sure if I ever make it to England, I would enter a record store and not want to leave. Or if I go to Japan, a country whose culture I've admired since childhood, I would probably find a way to visit it on a regular basis.
"All this, for music?" Music is a part of it, to be able to explore any and all avenues of recorded sound would be great. Another part would be for one's sanity, and yes I'm talking about my own. At times it's hard to celebrate and keep head above water in a place that would prefer to flood itself for the sake of clearing out the filth and muck, but I do this because I know there is better. I come from better, and maybe it's wrong to have high expectations. But I don't want to look down just because I can. Bowing the head down requires no energy on your part. Lifting your head up requires energy, and I still have energy in me. Music keeps me going in the darkest times, music motivates me, and as the Lost Boyz said not too long ago, music makes me high. Music isn't life, it's a part of my life, and it's a part that I wish to share with anyone willing to listen.