Autumn Souvenir

I probably don't need to say much here. If we've met for even ten seconds, I probably talked about this band. I mean, I named my dog after former Wilco lead guitarist, Jay Bennett. If I ever have a kid, he or she will likely be Jeff or John or Coomer or Pot Kettle Black. 70-80 shows. Every record purchased on every format imaginable. Three Solid Sound Festivals. Couple pics with JT, one taken by John Stirratt. Jeff Tweedy's songwriting, along with the band's evolving sound, seemed to perfectly complement what I was experiencing in my 20s, through to my 30s, and even today, in my 70s. AM were the leftovers. Being There was them breaking beyond alt.country. Summerteeth was their breezy, pop gem. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot remains their masterpiece. A Ghost is Born was an extension of YHF . Sky Blue Sky was back to Americana. And The Whole Love was their last great record. As I sit here listening to Yankee Hotel Foxtrot , for what must be the first time in a few yea

Discovering Uncle Tupelo felt like a moment in time. Or rather, moments in time. It all started in the spring of 1994, just outside of Boston. I was a sophomore in college, hanging out with my housemates, recounting the events of the night before. Some party, another party, bar, bar, etc. We’d all trudged around the night prior, with the exception of our friend Flanders, who was visiting from Maine. Flanders broke from the pack and saw a show downtown. I asked about the band. “They're called Uncle Tupelo. Want to hear them?” was all he could muster. He stepped out and grabbed a CD from his car. A few minutes later, he hit play on track six from one of their records. The song was “New Madrid” from Uncle Tupelo’s final, and perfect, swan song, Anodyne . It took but a few seconds and I was floored. It was Neil Young, Johnny Cash, The Clash, all in one. I’d never heard anything like it. By the end of the day, I'd made my way to Tower Records on Boylston and had my own copy . An

If Memphis' Big Star weren't plagued by one terrible set of label/management/etc. circumstances after another, which basically buried each of their three records from the public, I truly believe that they could've been the greatest rock n' roll band to ever come out of the US. I mean, even given the awful circumstances that they faced, at least to my ears, they're right up there. And had they been delivered a few breaks, Alex and Chris would be regularly thrown around alongside John and Paul, Mick and Keith, and hell, for purposes of this list, Jay and Jeff. But that's not at all what happened. Even with the current always flowing the wrong way, thanks to a cult following that seems to balloon each year, and countless musicians who point to Big Star as not just an influence, but possibly their greatest influence, the band has only grown in popularity over the decades. Three records from 1972-1975 and that's it. The last of the trio, Third , which is easil

Neil is one of the few mainstays in my musical life. I found my way to him early in my teen years and he set the stage for a lot of the music I'd explore in the decades that followed. I started with the basics, mostly listening to Decade (basically, greatest hits) throughout high school, and then I hit his "grunge" phase in college, playing Freedom , Ragged Glory , and then the slow-down gem, Harvest Moon . But it was post-college that I really dug into the archives and found Neil's best work. On the Beach , Comes a Time , Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere , Zuma , and ultimately my favorite Neil record, the dirtiest of all Neil records, Tonight's the Night . When considering the history of rock n' roll, Neil Young sits atop the heap with the likes of Chuck Berry, Mick/Keith, Paul/John, Bruce, and a select few others. In addition to his staggering solo work, which spands six decades, his contributions to Buffalo Springfield, CSNY and many others put him i

This story's been told a million times over, but when Jay Farrar opted to bail on alt.country pioneers, Uncle Tupelo, fans of the genre and beyond, were left with two new options: Son Volt and Wilco. For years, the debate of Jay vs. Jeff raged. Purists tended to side with Farrar, while those open to Tweedy's more experimental side, landed with Wilco. At least out of the gates, there was wide consensus that Farrar's Son Volt held an edge with 1995's absolutely brilliant, Trace . Wilco's first effort, A.M. , had its moments, but altogether sounded like a collection of UT b-sides. Son Volt followed with 1997's underrated Straightaways , and closed out their first run as a band with 1999's fantastic, Wide Swing Tremolo . Farrar's backing band of original Tupelo drummer Mike Heidorn, and brothers Dave and Jim Boquist, likely represented the best alt.country band of that decade. And then, following this trio of classics, Farrar once again departed a band at

Speaking of great songwriters.... Favorite record: Devotion & Doubt (1997) Where are they now? Though not nearly as prolific as he was in the 90s, Buckner continues to make records and tour.

Steve Earle once said, " Townes Van Zandt is the best songwriter in the world and I'll stand on Bob Dylan's coffee table in my cowboy boots and say that." I'm not sure Townes is better than Dylan, but he's certainly in the conversation. He really only had one "hit": "Pancho and Lefty", which was made famous by Willie and Merle. But Townes has hundreds of fantastic songs. Like Chris Bell and Alex Chilton, Nick Drake and countless others who flew under the radar in the 90s, Townes never got his due. Not even close. I discovered Townes late. My closest buddy in college, who turned me onto countless artists that I'd embrace post-college (Smog, Oldham, Drake) was a fan early, but I still had much digging to do before I'd make my way to Townes. Must've been a few years after his death in 1997, that Townes started to hit. I remember buying the collection, High Low and In Between , at Sounds on St. Marks and immediately putting it

With the shocking passing of two cultural icons  in one week , we're seeing a similar collective reaction to what we see when faced with such difficult realities. Basically, on this front, there's a deluge of posts sharing suicide hotlines. Of course, I'm in favor of making these numbers widespread. A good friend of mine volunteered at a suicide hotline in New York City for many years, and I'm certain his work, and the work of his colleagues, saved countless lives. But there's something about these soft, predictable posts that gets under my skin. It's somewhat similar to the gun reaction. Post something, move on. Did your deed. I guess it irks me for two reasons. First, depression, anxiety, OCD, bipolar disorder, and countless other mental health maladies, are issues that can't be solved with a phone number. There are many massive challenges facing mental illness in this country. Health care is an abomination. Only the wealthy can afford regular mental-hea