Ghosts appear and fade away

Sigh. The state of the world (see previous post) hasn't been good for my state of mind.

I haven't found myself in the clutches of a particularly bad episode in the Black Hole for a long time now; still haven't, and I thank modern medicine for that and hope RFK Jr. isn't able to somehow outlaw Zoloft so that can continue. But I do get into milder ones with what seems like increasing frequency.

Again, state of the world.

I've been gloomy for a week or so. Forgetful, slow to act, listless and prone the intrusions of sad memories.

Time of year has something to do with it, too. Time was, the approach of fall was a fun time of year—pennant races in full swing, shortening of the days (night owls of the world rejoice!), crisp evenings among the shed leaves—but these days I think of (a) my grandfather, who would be 104 years old today if he were still around and whom I miss a lot, especially around his birthday for whatever reason; and (b) my mom, who died ten years ago(!) this week. My mom would be apoplectic at the state of the US government right now. As a career public health professional she would be aghast and possibly in tears over what RFK has done to HHS. I think about her a lot even when I read the damn news because of that.

My distractions have been somewhat effective. Friends are good to have. Nerd TV is an excellent diversion (though I have a whole post's worth of thoughts on the good and less good of the current season of Strange New Worlds which may yet get put into actual words). Baseball—well, with the recent performance of Your Seattle Mariners, baseball hasn't really helped much. Books and other reading material. Enterprise fanfiction, comics, baseball histories.

The Ministry of Time was a good read, recommended to those who like character studies and fish-out-of-water scenarios and mysterious intrigue. And that can handle convolutions of time travelers, of course.

And, oddly for me, music.

I'm not a big music buff like so many of my contemporaries. I like the stuff I like, my musical tastes haven't really changed since the late 1970s, and live shows tend to be more annoying than enjoyable thanks to the deafening volume. But I did recently run across a new(ish) album from the great band Semisonic that has a title track, "Little Bit of Sun," that speaks to me. It immediately goes up there with Men at Work's "Overkill" as a go-to depression song. They're good companion pieces, really, with "Overkill" describing the experience of being in the grip of a depressive episode and "Little Bit of Sun" describing the first glimmer of climbing out of one.

Here's to finding a little bit of sun, a little bit of sky. I think I see it from the corner of my eye.

 

 

 

Tagged The Black Hole, Music, Posted on September 3, 2025 at 1:54AM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Jill Sobule

Earlier this month, folk singer Jill Sobule unexpectedly died in a house fire. I saw a post breaking the news on BlueSky and was immediately bummed; Jill's songs were often delightfully satirical and ranged from rockin' to mellow to almost countryish.

I've talked about how I don't generally enjoy live bands because of the insistence of deafening volume from the amps, but I'd have liked to see Jill at a live show. I think she'd have been a lot of fun.

Best known for "I Kissed a Girl" (not the Katy Perry tune), my favorite of her tracks include "Happy Town" (about taking anti-depressants), "Rapture" (about religious interpretations of afterlife), "Youthful Indiscretions" (about George W. Bush getting favorable treatment for his hijinks while others get the book thrown at them), "Manhattan in January" (about climate change), and, of course, "Put Him in the Hall of Fame" (about George W. Bush's career decisions and their consequences).

I'm going to miss getting those emails from Jill (or her publicist?) touting a new song and hearing how she processes the chaos of the day into music.

The world is a darker place without Jill Sobule. Safe journey to this creative soul.

 

 

 

 

Tagged Music, Culture, Posted on May 27, 2025 at 3:42PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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Troubled Times

Adam Schlesinger (1967-2020)

I don't know anyone personally that has COVID-19. At least, I don't think I do. But today the pandemic claimed someone I will certainly miss: Fountains of Wayne co-leader and songwriter Adam Schlesinger died from complications due to the coronavirus today.

Now, I'm not a big music guy. Most of my contemporaries are far more into bands and concerts and geeking out to nuances of different rock venues than I ever have been or ever will be. But Fountains was one band I actually went out of my way to see in person (and kind of regretted it, but not because of the music; the rock-club atmosphere and the amps kicked up to eleven so your ears bleed just make the whole experience kind of unpleasant even when Adam and Chris and co. were playing great tunes), which indicates how much their stuff speaks to me.

FoW hadn't had a new album in five years or so, and they had officially "disbanded" since, what with Schlesinger finding all kinds of time-consuming Hollywood work—writing songs for film and TV, producing other bands' albums—and co-leader Chris Collingwood experimenting with solo work (Look Park), but it's not like Yoko broke up the band, there was plenty of hope for more. Alas.

Schlesinger's songs are breezy, fun, melancholy, peppy, clever, poignant. Some Fountains albums are better than others, but none of them are poor. They all have good variety in them and just ooze talent. I enjoyed some of the songs he wrote for the TV musical "Crazy Ex-Girlfriend," which I probably never would have checked out if not for his involvement (it was an OK show), and the Tom Hanks movie "That Thing You Do." But to me he was at his best paired with Collingwood in the band they named after a lawn-ornament shop in Wayne, New Jersey.

Schlesinger lyrics are their own form of poetry. Songs about unrequited or broken loves ("Pining away every hour in your room / Rolling with the motion, waiting til it's opportune / Sitting there watching time fly past you / Why do tomorrow / What you could never do?"), the suburban proliferation of outlet malls ("God forgive the passengers if we should fail / To find a penny fountain or a half-off sale / I need a merchant / I just started searching for a Holy Grail"), staying behind in your hometown while someone else succeeds elsewhere ("I see your face in the strangest places / Movies and magazines / I saw you talkin' to Christopher Walken / On my TV screen"), toiling away in a dull job ("Working all day for a mean little guy / With a bad toupee and a soup-stained tie / He's got me running 'round the office / Like a gerbil on a wheel / He can tell me what to do / But he can't tell me what to feel"), the monotony of a tour ("Seatbacks and traytables please / Suddenly I can't feel my knees / Second-run movies / In-flight shopping magazines / Wheezing the air up there / Got me a backache somewhere / Is that Santa Barbara? I think I've I been there").

And, of course, my two very favorite Christmas songs: "I Want an Alien for Christmas"  and "The Man in the Santa Suit" ("How Jimmy's grown this year / says 'Mommy, quick come here' / 'Santa's sweaty and he smells like beer'").

If you're unfamiliar, Spotify has most of FoW's music. Please to enjoy.

Safe journey, Adam Schlesinger. We will metaphorically shoot the sky full of holes for you.

Tagged COVID-19, Fountains of Wayne, Sad, Music, Posted on April 1, 2020 at 6:40PM   |   Permalink   |     |  

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