Hawleyblog

A Music Post With My Favorite Album From 2008: Jonatha Brooke's The Works

I discovered that Jonatha Brooke had a new album several months ago, but for whatever reason, I wasn't in a huge hurry to buy it. Man, do I wish I'd bought it sooner. The Works is the finest of Jonatha's many fine albums, and it's the best record I've heard that came out in 2008.

All but two of the songs—and the instrumental snippet called "Coney Island Intro" that leads into the closing number, "King of My Love"—were written by Jonatha using lyrics left behind by folk legend Woody Guthrie. Many of the songs are propelled by organs and pianos rather than guitars, and I like that rich, keyboard-driven sound.

Jonatha manages to attach a few different musical styles to Guthrie's lyrics. "My Battle," for instance, is countrified, while "My Flowers Grow Green" has a jazzy, torchy feel to it.

My favorite song from The Works is "There's More True Lovers Than One." Listening to it makes me happier than eating chocolate, and, believe me, that's a compliment I don't hand out lightly.* "TMTLTO" is a duet with Eric Bazilian, a talented musician whom I still associate mostly with the Philadelphia-based '80s rock group The Hooters even though he's also known for having written Joan Osborne's ubiquitous hit from 1995, "One of Us."

The booklet that came with the CD** includes some of Woody's notes on his lyrics. He says he wrote "TMTLTO" the day after he first saw the ocean, something he'd been yearning to do since his childhood in Oklahoma. The lyrics that accompany the jaunty tune are sad but hopeful. The second verse goes: "I looked across that sea to see them whitecap breakers rise / True love comes in like an ocean tide and like the wind it flies / Upon these moonlit sands how many a vow was sworn? / How many a heart was tost and broke while love went rolling on?"

"Sweetest Angel"—a duet with Glen Phillips, formerly of Toad the Wet Sprocket—lives up to its name; it's an incredibly sweet song. Here's its chorus: "All this world is made of love. / You are fresh from heaven above. / You're the sweetest angel in this world. / (repeats twice) / You're the sweetest angel."

"All You Gotta Do Is Touch Me," Jonatha's duet with Keb' Mo', is also sweet—and loads of fun and very very sexy too. Its bridge provides the album's title: "I fully aim to get my soul known again / As the maniac, the saint, the sinner, the drinker, the thinker, the queer / I am the WORKS, the whole WORKS / And it's not 'till you have called me all of those things / That I feel satisfied, I feel satisfied."

"Taste of Danger" is one of the two all-Jonatha numbers and another standout. It's slightly edgy and confessional and very rockin', and I just love it. (The other song for which Jonatha wrote the lyrics, "Little Bird," isn't a bad song, but it's not particularly noteworthy to me and hasn't yet become a favorite.) 

***

Billy Bragg and Wilco were the first musicians given access to Guthrie's lyrical archives by his daughter Nora. The resulting songs were released on two critically acclaimed albums named after the street in Coney Island on which Guthrie once lived. My favorite songs from the two discs are "Walt Whitman's Niece" and "California Stars" (from Mermaid Avenue) and "Airline to Heaven," "Hot Rod Hotel," Secret of the Sea," and "Aginst th' Law" (from Mermaid Avenue Vol. II).

***

I was a pretty big fan of Toad the Wet Sprocket back in the band's heyday, though I never saw them in concert. "Come Down," from 1997's Coil album, is probably my No. 1 TTWS song. I also like "Little Buddha" from that album a lot. Like many of the band's songs, it's lyrically dark, but I can't resist the stirring strings and thrilling conclusion.

A TTWS collection should also contain "Walk on the Ocean," "Is It for Me," "Nightingale Song," "Hold Her Down," "In My Ear," and "All I Want" from 1991's Fear; "Something's Always Wrong," "Stupid," "Crowing," "Windmills," and "Nanci" from 1994's Dulcinea; and "Brother," "Good Intentions," and "Hope" from the 1995 compilation album In Light Syrup. (I don't own the band's first two albums, Bread & Circus and Pale, nor its post-breakup compilation album P.S.)

 ***

And finally, here are two songs I would file under Guilty Pleasures on my iPod if I were to create such a playlist:

Benjamin Howes, who was the standby for the roles of both Hunter and Jeff in [title of show], posted the video for Bananarama's "I Heard a Rumour" on the [tos] blog last month. Dammit, I love that song. It's supersimple synth pop (give me an afternoon to practice, and even I could probably play it on a keyboard), but it's so catchy and bouncy that it burrows into your brain and won't let go.

I bought the video for '90s British boy band Take That's "Back for Good" last week. It's a terrific pop song, and Gary Barlow was some kind of good lookin', with his perfect hair, touch of fuzz on the jaw, and eminently kissable lips. Actually, he's even better looking now.

*I still love you, chocolate! Meet me in the kitchen later and I'll show you how much. ;-)

**I tend to buy the CDs (as opposed to buying from iTunes) of artists whose music I've been buying for years on CD. Out of a sense of wanting to complete a collection, I suppose. And besides, the iTunes version of The Works doesn't come with a digital booklet. Once all albums do, then I'll probably stop buying CDs for good.

UPDATE on Feb. 26: I mentioned "Coney Island Intro" and "King of My Love" only in passing yesterday, and I have a little more I want to say about them. "CII" is all accordion and "KOML" is loaded with could-have-been-tired playing-card metaphors, but both are terrific.

I also want to add the anti-fascist rocker "All You Fascists" to my list of Mermaid Avenue favorites; it's from Vol. II.

A Weekend of Celebrating the February Birthdays, Part IV

I promise this is the last "A Weekend of Celebrating ..." post. :-)

***

On the Tuesday night after my visit, Dad got what Granny had on Sunday, and he lay in bed all day Wednesday. And that Wednesday at work, in the late afternoon, I felt an occasional rumbling sensation in my belly that I thought meant I was doomed as well. (Dad said that on Wednesday, he felt like he needed to die in order to feel better.) I went to bed that night expecting that I'd wake up in the middle of the night with terrible diarrhea. But I didn't. I still felt that rumbling, gassy feeling in the morning, though, and I pondered staying home from work because I really, really, really didn't want to get the shits at work. Or on the subway on the way to work. But we were starting to get pretty busy in preparation for our very busy week this coming week, and I figured I'd feel like a really big schmuck if I called out and felt only that little bit of rumbling for the rest of the day. So I went in, and I felt mostly fine all day, especially after taking a couple of anti-gas chewable tablets.

Gran wasn't in great shape for much of the week. The first food she really craved and enjoyed was canned chicken and rice soup on Friday. She and Dad both took some Imodium that day. "Now we've probably got our assholes cemented up," Dad said, rather classily, that Saturday. He said he was trying to figure out where the sickness could have come from. (I didn't remind him that both Zane and Judy had had gastrointestinal distress in the days before my visit, so it's possible I was the carrier. Though the fact that I didn't feel any potential pangs of the sickness until after Gran and Dad got it makes me think I wasn't.) One theory Dad considered was the church secretary's daughter, who'd waited on Dad, Jean, and Gran at the pancake supper. The secretary had been out of the office all week. Maybe because she'd been shitting her brains out, Dad guessed. Sherlock Hawley.

***

Dad said he and Jean really liked the 2007 High Note Malbec I bought for Dad for Christmas. I'll have to give that one a whirl myself.

Dad gave me a bottle of 2006 Barton & Guestier Vouvray to try; I haven't opened it yet. He said he saw the really terrific Vouvray he'd gotten me before, 2007 Domaine de Vaufuget, at the big liquor store in Millville, but he didn't get it because it said it contained sulfites, so he got me the B&G instead. I told him that that didn't really bother me because they're added to just about every wine and are necessary for aging. Although I'll admit it does sound like something I'd be concerned about. Later, when I showed him that the wine he got me had a note on the label saying that it, too, contained sulfites, he said that there was a big warning sign in the store about sulfites next to the DdV. That's very strange.

***

Aside from the neighbors, Gran's other favorite topic of conversation is her first family: her parents and siblings. I knew that Pearl, Granny's next-oldest sibling was a self-centered bitch, but I heard some more stories about her the weekend of my visit that I wanted to share here.

Pearl was always taking her sisters' clothing and jewelry without their permission, even going so far as to break locks on a cedar chest and jewelry box. One time, Pearl came downstairs with her jacket already zipped up, and Granny knew she must have something of hers on underneath and was trying to hide it. She unzipped Pearl's coat, and sure, enough, there was the blouse Granny had bought and was saving to wear on Easter. Granny complained to their Dad, who pointed at Pearl and then pointed upstairs. Gran followed Pearl upstairs and watched Pearl take it off. She tore it off like she was trying to take some buttons off as well as the top.

One other time when Pearl had done something to piss off Gran, probably something theft related, she went to her Dad to complain, and her Pop said, Why don't you wallop her next time? So Gran did. Hit her right on the neck. It didn't make Pearl change, but it made Granny feel good.

Pearl was the prettiest of the girls, and she had no trouble getting dates. Or husbands. She kissed husband No. 1 goodbye in the morning like everything was perfectly normal, and he came home from work to find an empty house. Granny implied that Pearl had already discovered the man who was going to be husband No. 2.

One time a boy who'd been dating Pearl decided he liked Granny better and asked her to go out with him. Pearl couldn't believe that someone would like her younger sister Dorothy better than her. And neither, really, could Gran. Maybe he liked blondes. Pearl, who had the darkest hair among the girls, always wanted her hair to be light, like Gran's.

Pearl didn't have much to do with the family after she attended Granny's mother's funeral. She went out somewhere west. But at one point, she moved back to New Jersey and met a well-to-do, very religious man from Woodstown. She married him and got religious herself. At Pearl's funeral, the minister was talking about what a wonderfully pious woman she was. Gran's favorite brother, Russ, turned around in the pew and told the family members seated behind him, in a voice loud enough to be heard several pews away, "That doesn't sound like the Pearl we know."

***

Gran also talked about what a great cook her oldest sister, Maude, was. After Maude got married, Gran would go to visit her and linger until dinner time, knowing that Maude wouldn't be able to help but ask her to stay for supper. Years later, Granny confessed to Maude that she would do that on purpose so she'd be able to eat with them, and Maude gently asked, "You don't think I knew that?"

***

Gran's father's father's sisters—Aunt Kate, Aunt Annie, and Aunt Lizzie—lived in Salem, and their home was on the way to school. They all thought very highly of Gran's Dad, and Aunt Kate, in particular, was fond of Granny. She would wave to Granny from her window every day. And she would call Granny "my little groundhog." Granny really liked Aunt Kate, but she hated being called that. Years later, she realized that Kate meant it as a term of endearment.

***

Gran's Aunt Agnes once said that Gran's Mom had 15 kids. Or 15 pregnancies. But Gran never got the details on five of them—if what her aunt said was true. The youngest child, John, died of pneumonia when he was only 1. Gran vividly remembers a woman who lived down the street coming to collect the body and Gran's mother not wanting to hand her baby over. He was John Fenwick Maul, named after the founder of Salem. Ralph, the oldest of the siblings, was tall, dark, and handsome. (He must be where I get my dashing good looks from. :-) ) Here are all of the siblings that Gran is aware of, in order from oldest to youngest:

Ralph, Hap, Russ, Maude, Alice, Pearl, Dorothy, Bill, Bernice, and John

Mikey Is Done With the Medicine

Michael got the PICC taken out on Friday and is done taking the intravenous antibiotic. Woo hoo!

A Weekend of Celebrating the February Birthdays, Part III

Bob and Jen went to lunch at Al di Là and then to a movie last Sunday. Jen was genuinely surprised at the crowd of people there in the apartment to celebrate her birthday when they got back.

Gina cooked up a delicious Mexican feast. By the time I got over to B&J's apartment, after unloading the car and getting the woofers settled in, it was all decorated. Jen's Dad was in charge of the decorating committee for his senior prom, and he hasn't lost his touch. :-)

I got Jen a gift card from Anthropologie, as Bob had suggested in the evite, plus three Mo's Bacon Bars from Vosges because, when I'd happened to mention them in passing a while back, Jen's eyes lit up like she'd just learned what Nirvana was like.

Here's a photo of Jen cutting her cake. That's Jen's brother, Dave, holding the camera:

And here's Gina and Matt's daughter, Carolyn, enjoying the cake:

 

***

And now, some more photos from the weekend:

I saw this record in a trash bag in the bedroom I was sleeping in at Granny's house; Dad's been going through a bunch of crap in the upstairs bedrooms. It was too cute not to grab and bring home. I should have played it at Granny's before I left because I don't know of anyone else who has a record player. The record consists of six songs, mostly by Johann Strauss, played on organ and marimba with the Hartz Mountain Master Canaries singing along: "Tales of the Vienna Woods," "Pizzicato Polka," "An Artist's Life," "Mexican Dance," "Beautiful Blue Danube," and "Humoresque." I know that Pop kept canaries at some point, and there's still a cage in the basement, but it was before I was old enough to be aware of them.

Some really early flowers, probably crocuses, in Granny's yard. With Rudy's nose.

An early Valentine's Day cookie at Sweet Melissa with an ominous message.

And finally, a corgi flag in Dad and Jean's yard. It had been mine, but I gave it to D&J when I moved to the city from Stockton. Actually, Dad said this is a replacement flag; the first one blew away.

 

A Weekend of Celebrating the February Birthdays, Part II

When I first got to Granny's house, Gran got annoyed with Rudy because he was sniffing at her crotch. I told her that Rudy is all about his nose and I said that by sniffing your crotch now, he could always find it later. And Dad said, Yeah, if you and your crotch ever get separated, he can find it. And then we all cracked up. Class flows like water around us Hawleys. :-)

***

Gran also said some things that cracked me up. Her best line of the weekend comes at the end of this little story:

Gran is always lamenting that all of her neighbors have moved away or are moving away. On one side of her house was a couple a few years younger than her and Pop. The husband died of cancer, and the wife is now in a nursing home, so that house is empty. Behind her is an old guy and his daughter, and the guy supposedly told Gran that they're moving out near Pittsburgh because the daughter thinks she can find a new husband out there. On the other side is a couple who have a daughter who graduated from elementary school and high school with me. The husband is originally from the South, and Granny has convinced herself that the house has already been sold and they're moving back down where he grew up. And she's also convinced that this couple and the people who live behind her are gone every weekend, either house hunting or off doing something else.

Dad says he has an argument with Granny almost every day about the neighbors. She swore that the couple who are supposedly moving south were gone the weekend I was down, but Dad said they went to the pancake supper he helped organize for his Ruritan club on Saturday, and Dad, Jean, and I saw them at breakfast at the Green Olive on Sunday morning. And their house hasn't been up for sale. (Gran explains that by saying they found a buyer on their own.) And so far as we know, the wife has a few more years of work before she will be able to retire and move away. So the move south is probably at most a plan for later rather than a done deal. And I don't know about the guy who lives behind her, but there's no For Sale sign out, so if he and his daughter are moving, he doesn't seem to be in a big hurry to start the process.

Anyhow, Gran brought up the neighbors' moving, as she inevitably does several times a day, and I told her, You never know, Gran. Maybe a hunky 85-year-old will move in. "He'd have to have an ass lined with gold and a pot of money in the bank," she replied.

***

Granny often proclaims that she wants nothing to do with another man, but the thought does cross her mind now and again, even if it's just to dismiss it. She said there wasn't any man worth looking at over to the church. And then she said something like, you wouldn't want a guy from church anyway because you wouldn't want him to be too good. Right on, Granny!

***

Gran rarely cooks anymore, but us Hawleys can't go too long without our ground meat, so she does fry the occasional hamburger. I knew that for lunch on Saturday, Dad was bringing over some ground beef, but Gran kept saying she hoped Dad would bring something already cooked. When he showed up with the beef, she was disappointed even though I'd told her what Dad had planned to do. Dad had to leave right away to go over to help with the pancake supper.

For Christmas, among other things, I had gotten Granny a new spatula for flipping burgers. She'd been using an old plastic one whose handle had broken, leaving only a stump. On the way to the bathroom to wash up before we ate, I heard Granny say, "This spatula ain't worth a shit." I backtracked into the kitchen to see whether she was using the new one or the old one. It was the new one. She said it was too flexible. *sigh*

***

Dad, Jean, Gran, and I went to dinner at the Green Olive on Friday night. They all got petite meals, and I will the next time. I got broiled salmon, and it was good. But there was so much salmon, there was no way I was going to be able to eat it all. Even the so-called petite meals were big. Gran got a slab of grilled chicken breast that she wouldn't have been able to eat in three sittings.

Here's a picture of Dad and Jean at the restaurant:

And here's a shot of Gran and me. We're color coordinated:

***

I gave Gran a stuffed-animal nursing-mama cat and three kittens. The kittens magnetically attach to the cat's teats. A few years ago, I gave her the dog equivalent.

***

I took Mom to dinner on Saturday for her birthday. She felt like trying the stromboli at a pretty new pizza place called Hard Times that's owned by the granddaughter of a woman who lives in Mom's building and her boyfriend. Mom said she thought the name was clever, so I didn't slag on it that much, but Hard Times? It sounds like they're going to feed you bread and water. Or the waitress is going to pull a Don Rickles on you and mock you relentlessly. Mom said one half of the couple (I'm betting on the boyfriend) said "hard" and the other one said "times," and that's the name they went with, considering themselves to be rather clever.

I think steak stromboli is a South Jersey specialty. Around here and in North Jersey, strombolis tend to have sausage and/or pepperoni in them. Hard Times was a little unusual in that the steak stromboli came with only tomato sauce and mozzarella inside; it also listed a sausage and pepperoni stromboli that automatically came with peppers and onions. I asked to have peppers and onions put in our steak stromboli, which is the norm in those parts.

Before dinner, I took a picture of Mom with the map puzzle that I got her for Christmas and that she'd picked up at the frame shop that morning. We also watched some of the AKC Eukanuba National Championship dog show on TV. A Pembroke Welsh corgi named Carley won the herding group.

***

When I got up on Sunday morning, Gran told me she'd had diarrhea and had been vomiting. I gave her some orange juice (yeah, a bad idea) because I was worried about her becoming dehydrated, but that came up. Then I made her drink some water. When Dad came over later, we tried some ginger ale, which always seems to help when you've got an upset stomach, but that came up too. Dad promised Gran he'd check in on her every hour or so throughout the day, and he, Jean, and I went to breakfast at the Green Olive. At dinner Friday, I'd told Dad I'd treat for breakfast on Sunday, "which is my subtle way of saying you can pay for dinner."

After breakfast, I reluctantly left Gran's place to head back to Brooklyn. I didn't want to get back too late because Bob, Jen's friend Gina, and Jen's parents were throwing Jen a surprise birthday party that afternoon, and Bob said that Gina had asked whether I'd be able to help them get ready.

A Weekend of Celebrating the February Birthdays, Part I

Last Friday, I went to South Jersey to see Granny and Mom for their birthdays. Granny's was on Groundhog Day. And Mom's was yesterday, Feb. 11.

Last Thursday night, I'd made Aunt Patty's Coffee Cake to take down with me. Mom doesn't like to eat chocolate as much as she used to, and she avoids it in the evening because it keeps her up. And Granny is a huge fan of breakfast treats. So when I saw this recipe in my Breakfast Treats file (that's part of my ongoing recipe project), I knew I had me a winner. It wouldn't be a traditional birthday cake, but it would fill the bill. (And fill this Bill's belly for breakfast Saturday morning at Granny's place.)

It's a good cake, though I think some kind of icing—maybe just a simple glaze—would make it even better.

The filling consists of only sugar, instant coffee granules, and cocoa. I made a silly mistake in assembling the layers of cake. You're supposed to pour 1/3 of the batter into the Bundt pan, then add 1/2 of the filling, then 1/3 of the batter, 1/2 of the filling, and, finally, the last third of the batter. I sprinkled only 1/3 of the filling onto the first 1/3 of the batter. That would have made sense if some of the filling went on the very bottom of the cake, but if that were the case, it wouldn't be "filling." I didn't realize my mistake until I'd poured in the second third of batter. I went ahead and sprinkled the remaining 2/3 of filling on top, and the final 1/3 of the batter wasn't enough to cover it. I ended up smushing the top layer of batter into the big layer of filling in an effort to conceal it somewhat. That's why the top layer of filling looks purty and the bottom of the cake is solid light brown. So next time I make it, I need to make sure that I divide my filling in half and that I do a better job of dividing the batter into thirds, so that I'll definitely have enough at the end to make a thick bottom layer that covers the entire surface of the filling.

***

I got a Sugar and Spice Latte at Sweet Melissa for the ride down. And I foolishly left it in the cup holder when I took a pee break at a rest stop on the New Jersey Turnpike. Emme was in the front passenger seat.

When I got back to the car, Emme was sucking as much of the coffee as she could out of the sheet I'd used to cover the front seats. She'd pulled the cup out of the holder and tipped it over onto her seat, wetting the sheet and some of the CDs I'd tucked between Emme's butt and the seat back. There was still a lot of coffee in the cup; not all that much had poured out of the hole in the lid. But it was enough to make a mess. I threw Emme in the back seat with Rudy, dried off the CD cases, and tossed the coffee. I was as angry at myself—for not foreseeing what Emme would do with such a tempting-smelling drink right under her nose—as I was at her. Well, maybe I was a little more angry at her. :-)

Granny Is 90

My Granny turned 90 today. When I talked to her this afternoon, she lamented how old she was. I'm going to visit her this coming weekend. Here's a photo of us taken in Granny's backyard, in September 2006. So we both look a little younger. :-)

Woofers in the Snow

Here are photos of the woofers in the snow that I took a couple of weeks ago. When it was snowing.

I took Emme for a short walk in the snow and Rudy for a much longer walk. My neighbor Steve, who sometimes acts as my fallback dog walker if both my dog walker and his designated backup aren't available, told me not long after Rudy came into my life that Rudy needed long walks, longer than Emme was willing to go for. Lately, I've been following that advice and taking the woofers for separate walks at least twice during the week and usually on every weekend day. In the evening and for the late-afternoon walk on weekends, Emme is content to go out to pee and then around to the lobby to pick up the mail and back home. Rudy then gets a longer walk, down to 7th or 5th Avenue. He's got the scent-hound stamina: Once he gets going, he can keep walking and walking, just like I found when he accompanied me on that Iraq War protest march.

***

A couple of Thursdays ago, on the woofers' morning walk, which was much later than usual because I'd worked late the previous night, I saw two different groups of dogs being walked by their walker, including several of the pooches in this photo from this post, who were in the second group. The first group included a corgi, but the walker moved off to the side as we approached and warned me that the corgi wasn't friendly. So I moved us along quickly. A nasty corgi? That's unpossible.

***

On the evening walk this past Thursday, I encountered a woman with a very excited female black lab who jumped up on me and knocked me in the face with her skull. The woman couldn't believe Emme was almost 14. She asked me what I fed her and said she looked fantastic. My Emme, the corgi equivalent of Helen Mirren.

***

The latest nicknames for Emme: Mittens and Kitten. And only once, Monday morning, I called her Ragamuffin Cute-a-box. Whatever that means.

The latest nicknames for Rudy: Tiny, Bruiser, Brubaker, Brother, Bro, and Mr. Boy (which I got from Bob, who calls Zane that)