The 500 - #285- Music Of My Mind - Stevie Wonder

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #285

Album Title: Music Of My Mind

Artist: Stevie Wonder

Genre: Progressive Soul

Recorded: Three Studios in New York and Los Angeles

Released: March, 1972

My age at release: 6

How familiar was I with it before this week: A little

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at 350, dropping 65 places since 2012

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Evil

Given the unique name Stevland Hardaway Judkins in Saginaw, Michigan, the future music legend who became known to the world as Stevie Wonder arrived six weeks premature on May 13, 1950. The oxygen-rich atmosphere of the incubator saved his life, but also resulted in retinopathy that robbed him of his vision.

The Judkins family moved to Detroit, Michigan, in 1954 and Stevie took an early interest in music, singing at his church and playing piano, harmonica and drums. In 1961, aged 11, Stevie sang his first composition, a song called Lonely Boy, to Ronnie White of the group The Miracles. White was so impressed, he took the young warbler to meet Berry Gordy, the founder of Motown Records. Stevland Hardaway Judkins was re-branded "Little Stevie Wonder" and, before he was a teenager, he released three records, including the hit single Fingertips -- making him the youngest person to have a #1 song on the Billboard charts.

Little Stevie Wonder The 12 year old genius album cover

Music of My Mind was his 14th release, a remarkable achievement because he was only 21. Typically, aspiring musicians of that age are crafting their first record, not their 14th. However, more importantly, the record marked a new phase in the multi-instrumentalist's career. He had recently signed a new contract with Motown Records to give him complete artistic control over his music. Modern music critics consider this the start of  Wonder's classic period, which ran from 1972 until 1979. His output included three other records on The 500 list, all in the top 100 –Talking Book (#90), Songs In The Key Of Life (#57) and Inversions (#24).

Music of My Mind also marked the start of Wonder's foray into the  world of electronic music for which he recruited two pioneers in the genre, Malcom Cecil and Robert Margouleff, to make use of their TONTO synthesizer set-up. TONTO, an acronym for The Original New Timbrel Orchestra was. at the time, the largest and most sophisticated analog synthesizer in the world. Compared with today’s miniaturized technology, the  electronic network was housed in six-metre-long curving wood cabinets nearly two metres high.

The TONTO analog synthesizer system

I've been a fan of Wonder's music since age 11 when I first heard the infectious catchy horn section that opens the song Sir Duke from the aforementioned Song In The Key Of Life. In the ‘80s Wonder seemed omnipresent in the world of popular music, enjoying tremendous commercial success as both a solo artist and collaborator. His music became a little too "adult contemporary" for me in the ‘80s and my interest in him faded somewhat.

However, in 2021 I came across some of his earlier music, triggered by the appearance of Wonder songs on the soundtracks of two television programs.

The first program was an eight-part series titled 1971: The Year That Music Changed Everything. This documentary juxtaposed the music of the period against the cultural and political upheaval of a particularly tumultuous year in contemporary history. It was, after all, the time of Vietnam War protests, the rise of Black Power movement, the rise of Feminism and the release of the Pentagon Papers.

In the fifth episode, Wonder's song, If You Really Loved Me, from the album Where I'm Coming From, galvanized my attention. Immediately, I thought, "I should be listening to more early Stevie Wonder.'' The next day, my headphones and Spotify account got a workout as much as I did physically doing yard chores.

I delved into Wonder’s early classic period. It so happened that a few nights later Wonder's music was on my television again – that of  Atlanta, the brilliant, comedy/drama/social satire series by multi-talented Donald Glover.

Episode six of season two of Atlanta, entitled Teddy Perkins, took another unexpected turn, veering into the world of psychological horror. In the episode, things turn strange as the easy-going Darius attempted to pick up a piano from the home of an eccentric and reclusive man, Teddy Perkins.

The episode is book-ended brilliantly by two tracks from Wonder's Music From My Mind. As the opening credits play, the episode begins with Sweet Little Girl, a harmonica-driven song that seems, at first, like a playful, innocent love song. However, darker and more sinister overtones emerge.

The episode ends with the track Evil, a melancholy number that makes full use of the new keyboard technology Wonder was testing. The song posed a series of questions directed at an unseen, and seemingly uncaring, artifice of evil.

Atlanta's Music supervisor, Jen Malone, told Variety that Stevie Wonder had to be convinced by the show’s creator, Donald Glover, to allow Evil to be included in the episode due to the troubling nature of the content.

"Donald had to get on the phone with Stevie and we were all very intrigued about what went on on that phone call. But we ended up getting the song and it was just such a perfect musical moment."

If you haven't had the chance to explore Atlanta or Stevie Wonder's earlier catalogue, I recommend it highly.  In the words of Teddy Perkins, they are both "Flames".

The 500 - #286 - I'm Still In Love With You - Al Green

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #286

Album Title: I'm Still In Love With You

Artist: Al Green

Genre: Soul

Recorded: Royal Recording Studios, Memphis, Tennessee

Released: October, 1972

My age at release: 7

How familiar was I with it before this week: A couple songs

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, dropping to #320 (33 places) since 2012

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Love And Happiness

In childhood, it seems that time moves slowly. Some experts suggest this is not merely an illusion. Dr. Clifford Lazarus, in an article in Psychology Today, posits that "children recall more visual data" than their elders" and, as a consequence, generate more "mental frames" or "mental images" that capture significant moments in time.

Consider the cover art to this week's record, I'm Still In Love With You (pictured above). Taken in 1972, it depicts the singer Al Green, seated and dressed almost entirely in white on lacquered rattan furniture, set against a white backdrop. As soon as I saw it, I was transported back to my childhood. More specifically, the early 1970s when I was about seven to nine years old.

My wife and I have talked about how we perceived the "adult world" when we were pre-pubescent. She came of age during the era of   Saturday Night Fever and was convinced she would become a 20-something disco dancer in strappy heels, decked out in a flowing dress while being wooed by a white-suited Tony Manero-type.

My vision of the "adult world" was more like this album cover. A sprawling tropical mansion, accented with the "finest" rattan and bamboo furniture and covered with lush tropical greenery. There may have even been a parrot involved. Perhaps my adolescent fascination with the television program Fantasy Island played into that mental image. Regardless, it doesn't make a lot of sense that a kid growing up in Ontario, Canada, would imagine a future with palm plants and exotic wildlife. However, I do like the fact that I thought my future would be rosy enough to include a mansion -- gaudy wicker furniture aside.

Which brings me back to I'm Still In Love With You, the fifth studio record by soul/R&B/gospel legend Green. I wrote about his history just a few weeks ago when discussing his sixth record, Call Me. Both records are considered part of Green's soul phase, which culminated with his Greatest Hits record in 1975 (#52 on The 500). By then, Green had entered the gospel era of his career, which stemmed from a life-changing event that occurred on October 14, 1974.

Sometimes referenced as the "Grits Incident", Green's ex-girlfriend, Mary Woodson, burst into the bathroom of his Memphis home and poured a pot of scalding hot grits (a Southern food item comprising corn, cheese and cream) on the back of the bathing singer. Woodson then went into a nearby bedroom, found Green's handgun, and took her own life.

Mary Woodson (1970s)

Green required skin grafts and spent months in recovery. He also reported that he spent his convalescence in deep reflection on his life. Raised in an evangelical household he had straddled the line between the devout faith in which he was raised and his philandering lifestyle as a popular soul singer.

Earlier in 1974 he had released Take Me To The River, a song about baptism. At the same time, information about the “Grits Incident” was revealed by investigating officers. They said Woodson, unbeknownst to Green, was married with four children and had a history of mental health issues. She had left two suicide notes, including one proclaiming her love for Green.

Green was cleared of any wrongdoing and began a path to redemption, determined to live a wholesome life and spread the word of God. He became a born-again Christian and, in 1976, was ordained a minister. A theme of the Reverend Al Green’s 1977 release, The Belle Album, espouses devotion to God. Then, in 1980, his first purpose-made gospel record, The Lord Will Make A Way, ushered in a transformational phase in his music career.

The story of Green’s metamorphosis got me thinking about the changes we embrace throughout our lives. I have two good friends who have recently made important lifestyle adjustments to improve their health and, hopefully, longevity. Their “altered lifestyle” has not been lost on me as they are worthy lessons to emulate.

It's times like these when I reflect on a beautiful bit of poetry by Guy Garvey, of the band Elbow, from the song Lunette:

"What can be said of the whiskey and wine.
Random abandon or ballast for joy
That was scuppered with trust, little more than a boy.
And besides I'm in excellent company.

I'm reaching the age when decisions are made
On life and liver and I'm sure, last ditch,
That I'll ask for more time
But mother, forgive me,
I still want a bottle of good Irish whiskey
And a bundle of smokes in my grave."

I’ll have to take good care of myself, I still have a white mansion, tropical plants with plenty of rattan furniture to purchase...and a parrot.

The 500 - #287 - Los Angeles - X

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #287

Album Title: Los Angeles

Artist: X

Genre: Punk

Recorded: Golden Sound Studios, Los Angeles, California

Released: April, 1980

My age at release: 14

How familiar was I with it before this week: Not at all

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, dropping to #320 (33 places) since 2012

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Soul Kitchen

In January, 2022 I wrote about the second release by X, Wild Gift. It was the first time I had heard the music of this innovative and influential punk band from California. Los Angeles is the debut record from the four-piece ensemble comprising Exene (vocals), John Doe (vocals and bass), Billy Zoom (guitars) and DJ Bonebrake (drums).

X (l-r) Zoom, Bonebrake, Exene, Doe (1980)

Los Angeles is often overlooked as a significant center of punk rock music. The genre emerged from the garage scene in England and the United States, with London and New York being considered "ground zero" for the movement. However, Los Angeles has a rich history of punk rock and has produced many influential bands and musicians in the genre.

Punk rock originated in the 1970s as a reaction against mainstream music and culture, and Los Angeles was home to many of the early pioneers of the genre. Some of the most famous punk rock bands to come out of Los Angeles include Black Flag, The Germs and X. These bands were known for their raw, energetic sound and their rebellious attitude, which resonated with many young people at the time. The 1980s were a time of great change in Los Angeles, and the punk scene reflected the city's growing discontent with mainstream culture.

X on a rooftop above Los Angeles (early 80s)

The previous two paragraphs have intentionally been presented in a different font and colour because I did not write them. Instead, I leveraged the skills of an artificial intelligence program called Chat-GPT which was developed and released free to the public by Open AI (a non-profit, research organization in Silicon Valley). I simply provided a few prompts to a computer program and the writing was generated for me. I'll explain.

As I was mentally preparing to write this post, a friend (Rob Hodson who has guest blogged twice for me here) sent me an article from The Atlantic with the ominous title: The End Of High School English. In the article, veteran high school English teacher Daniel Herman posits that:

The arrival of OpenAI’s ChatGPT, a program that generates sophisticated text in response to any prompt you can imagine, may signal the end of writing assignments altogether—and maybe even the end of writing as a gatekeeper, a metric for intelligence, a teachable skill.

He goes on to provide examples, including: 

A playful, but sophisticated and emotional 600-word, college-admissions essay on how his "experience" volunteering at the local animal shelter prepared him for the academic rigour of Stanford.

The following is part of the AI’s response:

"In addition to cleaning, I also had the opportunity to interact with the animals. I was amazed at the transformation I saw in some of the pets who had been neglected or abused. With patience and care, they blossomed into playful and affectionate companions who were eager to give and receive love. I was also able to witness firsthand the process of selecting the right pet for the right family. Although it was bittersweet to see some animals leave the shelter, I knew that they were going to a loving home, and that was the best thing for them…"

The artificial intelligence "chat-bot" was able to provide, almost instantaneously, a convincing, grammatically-sound response to his query.

While I am still on the fence about this new technology supplanting the need for high school English classes, I was fascinated by the availability of this technology and thought I would put it to the test with my blog. The limitations were soon revealed.

Initially, I posed the question: "Why is Los Angeles, by the band X, a great record?" The bot responded with an apology:

I'm sorry, but I am not able to browse the internet or listen to music, so I am unable to answer that question. I am a large language model trained by OpenAI and my knowledge is limited to the text that I have been trained on, which ends in 2021. I do not have any information about the band X or their record "Los Angeles". Is there something else I can help you with?

After a few more prompts, I settled on: "Why is the Los Angeles punk scene in the 1980s important?" and "Tell me more about the Los Angeles punk scene". Both responses required a little editing on my part to make them fit smoothly into this blog and both are rather vanilla in scope and style. However, I can see the utility of this technology for a high-school student.

A picture I created using AI with the prompt of
 "show me a high school student writing an essay".

When I provided some common, Grade 12 prompts, such as, "explain the impact of Macbeth's vaulting ambition", or "discuss the themes in A Handmaid's Tale", Chat GPT quickly offered good quality, quotable content that would fit nicely into a sneaky teenager's essay.

Regarding my genuine experiences with Los Angeles, the debut album by X, I loved it. It was a terrific record to get me going in the morning when I played it between 8 and 9 a.m., before my students' arrival. It was also a powerful motivator later on as I burned calories on the elliptical.

It wasn't until I heard this week's episode of The 500 podcast, featuring comedian and writer Dana Gould, that I began to dig a little deeper into the lyrical content. Gould, best known for his writing on The Simpsons, called X a band with "the energy of the Ramones and the poetry of Bob Dylan".

One thing I learned while looking into the story of X is how the band, despite limited commercial success, is considered by critics as "one of the most influential bands of their era". X’s "raw energetic sound" is undeniable and their dark, biting lyrics seem to capture "the growing discontent" present in Los Angeles of 1980.

So, I'll concede. Chat GPT makes a good case, but not strong enough to supplant me as the writer of these weekly blogs...for now.

  

The 500 - #288 - Anthem Of The Sun - Grateful Dead

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #288

Album Title: Anthem Of The Sun

Artist: Grateful Dead

Genre: Acid Rock, Sound Collage

Recorded: 11 location, 5 studios and 6 live shows

Released: July, 1968

My age at release: 3

How familiar was I with it before this week: Not at all

Is it on the 2020 list? No

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: New Potato Caboose

If you are older than 40, you might remember the first time you got the news from the internet. For me, it was on August 9, 1995, at about 11 p.m. when I learned that Jerry Garcia, songwriter, lead guitarist, vocalist and founding member of Grateful Dead had died.

To provide some context, I have always been part of the early majority when it comes to computer technology. This, for the most part, is because my friendship circle included early adopters and high-tech innovators. During the summer of 1995, my connections were through my bartending pals (Tim and Marcelo) and my roommate (Steve). All three were involved in some capacity with the rapidly growing world of personal computers.

A nostalgic reminder of my 1995-era set-up

These chums had internet service in June and, by August, they had helped me install a modem which, by the magic of a telephone line, could download data at the seemingly incredible speed of 24 kilobytes per second (kbps) – the cutting edge of technology at the time. By comparison, my internet access right now is 230,000 kbps. According to tech historian Zachary Robinson, only 0.04% of the world had access back then, so I was chuffed to show it off.

The Windows Modem connection screen

That night of August 9, 1995, after working a bar shift, I invited a co-worker and friend, Kelly, over to see the setup. After a few false starts, we were connected to "The World Wide Web" and I showed her the homepage for America Online (AOL). As I clicked around the screen showing off the features, we noticed a news ticker in the top right corner that read. "Jerry Garcia, Dead at 53".

A typical AOL page in the 90s, News ticker circled in red

"Is that true?" Kelly asked.

"I think so." I answered, hesitantly.

For confirmation, we tuned the television to CNN, the 24-hour news channel. After about a dozen minutes, the news ticker item was verified. That segment from the broadcast is available on YouTube here.

CNN broadcast from August 9, 1995 announcing Garcia's death

We were dumbstruck, both by the early demise of a rock legend and the fact that we had received news through a computer. We had, for more than 20 years of our lives, become accustomed to more conventional news delivery -- radio, television or print. I know we didn't fully grasp that this was the start of a revolutionary shift in the delivery of mass communication.

Jerome John Garcia was born to Jose (Joe) and Ruth (Bobbie) Garcia, bar owners in the Excelsior neighbourhood of San Francisco. The young Garcia took an early interest in music, taking piano lessons for much of his childhood. He lost two-thirds of the middle finger on his right hand when he was four -- the result of a wood splitting accident. A year later while fly-fishing his father slipped wading into the Trinity River in Northern California and drowned.

Garcia and his dad (1947)

Jerry's mother took over the family-owned bar full-time and he lived with his grandparents for five years, which gave him considerable freedom and independence. During that time, he was introduced to the banjo and a Grade 3 teacher encouraged him to continue developing his musical talent.

By 1961, Garcia was entrenched in the burgeoning San Francisco music scene. He connected with four local musicians who became the founding members of Grateful Dead or "The Dead" as the band is known to its fans who are sometimes referred to as The Deadheads.

The band was originally called The Warlocks, but needed to change it after learning that another group was already using that moniker. The term “grateful dead” was spotted in an encyclopedia by Garcia in the context of an Egyptian prayer. In addition to Garcia, other members of the newly minted Grateful Dead were Phil Lesh (bass, vocals), Bob Weir (rhythm guitar, vocals), Ron "Pigpen" McKernan (keyboards, harmonica, vocals) and Bill Kreutzmann (drums/percussion). It wasn’t long before their self-titled debut record was released. In 1967, an additional drummer, Mickey Hart, was recruited to the group.

(l-r) Kreutzmann, McKernan, Garcia, Weir, Hart, Lesh (1970)

Anthem Of The Sun was the sophomore release by The Dead and was the first to feature Hart.

Subsequently, a major addition to the expanding group  was Tom Constanten who played organ pieces and provided innovative and avant-garde studio techniques. He and Garcia developed a "collage" process to editing by which sections of music were spliced together to create a record that is neither a studio recording nor a live recording, but an amalgam of both. The final product is often called "Acid Rock" -- a genre meant to replicate and enhance the hypnotic and psychedelic effect of the hallucinogen LSD (lysergic acid diethylamide).

Drummer Hart has called Anthem Of The Sun the band's "springboard into weirdness" and Dead-aficionados mark it as the start of the "Classic Dead Era".

It's an enjoyable, but weird, record. Whenever I played it before or after my Grade 7 classes my students (who arrive early to drop off their backpacks) and the custodians (who popped in to empty bins and clean-up) reacted with peculiar expressions. They said nothing. I think they have all learned that “Mr. H. in Portable #16 has unusual tastes”.

I can only imagine how unique, interesting and impactful The Dead’s aural soundscapes would be to a late-sixties, LSD-activated hippy. Perhaps they, much like my friend Kelly and me, did not realize they were on the leading edge of a seismic shift in pop culture.