Exploring the band Big Star

March 31, 2010 by
BigStar2

When I learned from a national news broadcast and major Internet sites that Alex Chilton had tragically passed away in mid March, of course I felt badly. But after thinking good thoughts for his family, I made a few puzzled phone calls and did some research to overcome what seemed to be a glaring oversight on my part: I had never heard of Alex Chilton or the band Big Star. I had heard the Box Tops hit “The Letter,” but beyond that, I knew nothing of this artist.

Then I found out that respected artist Paul Westerberg of Replacements fame had written a song called “Alex Chilton,” so feeling terrible pangs of inadequacy, I hopped on eBay (after calling my local vinyl merchants first) and bought two of the three Big Star LP’s (reissues).

Voodoo Jets producer (and talented rocker with The Neighborhoods) David Minehan had toured with Paul Westerberg in 1993 (post Replacements) in support of the album “14 Songs” and had met Alex Chilton on several occasions. Minehan had this to say about Big Star: “It took me awhile to get into Big Star, partly because most of the artists who were excited about the band and covering their songs were wimpy. It was sort of guilt by association, so I shied away. Then I started listening to their songs—I think I would suggest that to get to know Big Star, one might be best served starting with the last record (3rd, also called Sister Lovers) and working back. The third LP is a potpourri of bad vibes and bitter songs, but oh so beautiful. Once I got in, I got way in to Big Star. Amazing music…”

So fueled by Minehan’s enthusiasm, I bought the third LP (called “3rd” and released in 1978) and the second LP (called “Radio City” released in 1974). I so badly wanted to discover a new vein of pop music that I could connect with, but this just wasn’t it. These songs simply don’t reach me—and the sounds are so aggressive, the mixes are awful—it is just a very difficult band for me to absorb and enjoy.

The track Life is White from the 3rd LP has a too-loud guitar track panned right and a hideous harmonica track panned left that combine to obliterate the lead vocal. I found Radio City more palatable than the 3rd LP, but neither lit any fires for me. There is a track deep into Radio City called “September Gurls” that got me excited—why couldn’t they have made an entire record of simple, hook-driven pop songs like this one?

I went and grabbed a few LP’s out of my collection from the period just to stabilize my frame of reference—Todd Rundgren’s Something Anything from 1972 and Chilliwack’s All Over You from the same year. The styles differ markedly, but the listenability of both were so far beyond the Big Star LP’s—I think Big Star was part of a pop/alternative movement that although a legitimate art form, just misses me somehow.

Despite all that, people loved Alex Chilton’s work and seem to gravitate toward the poignant pain in his songwriting. Clearly he was a passionate artist making music for the love of it, and his place amongst us has been vacated all too prematurely. May he rest in peace.

Big Star Radio City LP

Big Star 3rd LP

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Memories of a Really Fast Car

March 30, 2010 by
Rich's Chevrolet Cruising Boston

Boy, talk about the ultimate marriage of horsepower and great car audio—my first ride in Rich’s ’57 Chevy seemed mellow enough—I tucked under the leather wrapped roll bar and we pulled out of his shop and onto Dexter Ave. and stopped. The car was an outrageous black paint that was miles deep, purple flames on the fiberglass nose if you caught them at the right angle. The 900-plus HP blown 427 was idling like cows were kicking at the sides of the car, my torso strapped into the right leather bucket seat. As we sat warming the motor, Rich hit the command button on the lower right side of the Nakamichi TD-1200 and the archaic microprocessor (by today’s standards) did some pondering, some light flashing, and then ejected the tape drawer, revealing an empty slot for a cassette. Rich dropped a tape into the TD-1200, pushed the drawer back into place, and we waited…

Rich's Chevrolet Cruising Boston

This was about 1983—I was living in Boston playing music and working as a car stereo/alarm installer before migrating to Burlington, VT for three years. Rich’s Car Tunes had a legendary reputation for quality workmanship and delivering great sounding cars. The showpiece of the business (besides its charismatic owner) was the much customized ’57 Chevy. People came to the store from all over the place with absolutely no intention of buying anything—just to see and hear the ’57—and very often left shaking with excitement—and a new car audio system.

Back in the car on Dexter Ave.—this would be my very first exposure to the album “Holland” by The Beach Boys. Rich dialed up a long track called California Saga, which is to this day one of my most sacred demos. This is the record that brought us the single, Sail on Sailor. If you have never heard Holland, it is a treat. We sat still and took it in for awhile, and then Rich chugged the ’57 forward to the STOP sign at School St. From that point, most of my visual memory is a blur. Rich nailed the throttle, working hard to keep the car pointed straight ahead while working the car through the gears. The force of the motor shoved me back into the Recaro’s so hard that I couldn’t easily see where we were headed. Through all of this, the stereo gracefully presented Holland with impressive volume and clarity thanks to five of the original A/D/S Power Plate amplifiers, although under hard acceleration, all I could hear was the car.

We came up to the rear of some innocent motorist (really no such thing in greater Boston) and Rich glided up inches behind them, the 427 horrifically pounding away. Right up to the back bumper, waiting for daylight, into the oncoming lane to pass under hard throttle, back into the proper lane and off the gas. I caught glimpses of people looking at us from their porches, from their businesses, from inside other vehicles. There was no conversation, no friendly casual banter while Rich was driving—it took serious focus to move the car around this way and he was all business about it.

Just a quick note about the Nakamichi TD-1200. During the 1990’s when I had my store (Audio Coupe, Fairfield, CT), I had the occasion to take a working TD-1200 out of an Aston Martin. I was selling various high-end CD players at the time, and although the cassette medium was all but dead to consumers, I thought it would be fun to put the old Nakamichi on my display, almost like an antique. Well, that didn’t last long—everyone who saw it wanted to hear it, and the old TD-1200 so utterly and completely blew away the sound of every CD player I had at every price, I had to take it down in the interests of self preservation. It had an outstanding preamp section, and the tonal balance and extended, natural sounding low frequencies were reminiscent of high-end home audio. The TD-1200 looked nor sounded like any other car radio—it is simply the best ever.

Nakamichi TD-1200 in Rich's '57

Next, I remember pulling up alongside a Ground Round restaurant at a light (one of these places that fed you free salted pop corn to drive beer sales)—once green, Rich launched the ’57, compensating with the wheel to keep the car headed in the right direction. I saw people cheering and waving as the car hurtled past them. I was beginning to realize that the car was well known in these parts, the ’57 was the local “hot chick” and I was just along for one hell of a ride…

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Memories of a Boston Rock & Roll Show

March 24, 2010 by
Stompers

I remember it was the kind of sweltering day that only us kids could put up with. Sticky, hot, City-of-Boston summer Sunday. It must have been 1981 or 1982. At the age I am now, I’m sure I would have been hiding in the comfort of some air conditioned shelter. We pulled into “Southie”, over the little metal bridge behind South Station, hung a right onto a cobblestone street in an industrial neighborhood, and right again into The Channel parking Lot. The Blonde expertly wheeled her red Chevy wagon into a space and we hopped out. I always loved when she drove places (although I navigated).  She had the aggressiveness and the skill of a cocky guy behind the wheel, yet she was charming, graceful and tomboyishly pretty. She was a great package.

I had lured The Blonde as my guest to the Channel club to see the Stompers that Sunday. I have no doubt that The Channel had fallen from the sky like Dorothy’s cabin and just landed amongst overgrown weeds and tossed beverage containers in a parking lot overlooking Boston Harbor. It had a certain charm about it though, especially for daytime shows where you could see just how precariously close the place was to collapsing into the water. Weathered pillars supported the entire structure, and they disappeared at odd angles into the harbor like weary old legs. Inside, The Channel was a big square room sectioned off with a few flimsy walls. The old wooden floorboards had grown dark over the years from heavy foot traffic marching through an ocean of spilled cocktails. There was a video game room, a little snack stand, and rows of beer taps and barstools everywhere. In the rear most corner was the great stage with its lights and speaker columns, and to its left was a cheesy dance floor made of translucent tile, glowing with colored “disco” lights mounted from below. The Channel hosted some great performers in its day (Roy Orbison’s final performance was on the Channel stage; and the club once appeared in an episode of Spenser for Hire). I played there numerous times with two different bands. It was a little filthy second home for me, and I felt very comfortable dragging my date from the calm of New Hampshire down Interstate 93 for a show.

Photo courtesy The Stompers.com

The Stompers’ front man Sal Baglio was a slightly puffy, in your face type of performer. He had a wonderful rock’n roll demeanor complete with battered fender guitars and an excellent band. Sal would attack the microphone as he sang, passionately delivering his lines and hacking at his instrument. The piano player looked a little like Barry Manilow, and the drummer “Coooch” we called him, (RIP) was non-stop action. They wrote great story-telling pop songs and I could imagine the buzz that Sunday was not too unlike that of an early Southside Johnny performance at The Stone Pony. I don’t think The Blonde had ever seen anything like this before. A big city club on a hot Sunday and a band at their peak in the local scene. The Channel was loud and it literally shook when it rocked. I remember that we hung out and waited impatiently through the opening act, just being sweaty inside the dirty old club. I was very glad to be there and even happier she was with me. Nearing show time, I started herding her towards the stage to get a good spot in the standing room crowd.

Finally, after an eternity of faceless music through the house sound system, The Stompers shuffled on stage and took to their instruments. Sal was yelling right out of the gate, seemingly covered with sweat in an instant. My date and I were right in front of him, elbow to elbow with the world and staring upward at his energetic performance. Everyone loved the band because they wrote great American pop songs and they had that magical on-stage charisma. They put on a real show. The Stompers sound was Sal’s melodic voice and rhythmic guitar riffs, supported by smooth bass lines and the pounding of Cooch’s drums. They played crowd favorites like Shut Down Girl, You’re The One, and American Fun. I clearly remember my girl in front of me, hands on her shoulders bouncing up and down to the songs in unison with the crowd. The floor quaked as though The Channel would just tear loose of its moorings and be swallowed by the water around it. I felt completely content. I really liked this girl a lot, and I knew she was having a great time with me that day. There was a certain simplicity (I think they call it innocence) to romance back then, and I was enjoying it to the fullest at that moment.

I reflect back on that day sometimes, sadly aware of the passing of my own youth. That Sunday with The Blonde was about as good as it got. I can still hear it, smell it, and feel the heat of that day although the images are a bit faded after nearly thirty years. The experience serves as a reminder to me of just how powerful great live music is, and what an awesome role it played in my life as I was growing up. I now fully appreciate how blessed I was to have had numerous colorful episodes like this one make up the fabric of my younger years. I treasure them all, and the excitement and mayhem I lived through with my close friends. There was just something extra special about that girl, that band, on that Sunday afternoon. Lucky me!!

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Play This: Hypnotic Brass Ensemble Shimmers

March 21, 2010 by
HypBrass

I guess most people have a hip cousin somewhere in their peripheral vision. My hip cousin turned me on to a musical group called the Hypnotic Brass Ensemble (Honest Jon’s Records). It seems this 9-piece group (4 trumpets, 2 trombones, 1 sousaphone (like a tuba), 1 euphonium (baritone horn), and drums) hailed from Chicago but now resides in New York City. Most of the players are actually blood brothers, whose father was a horn player. Based on my hip cousin’s enthusiasm, I bought the 2LP set from Amazon.com. Can’t listen to LP’s in the Caprice, so I fired up the home rig and settled in…        HypBrass

I grew up with acoustic music and today’s world of digital recording makes me cringe on so many levels, so I eagerly embraced the opportunity to chill with the Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. Right out of the gate the music draws you in and I digested all four sides in one sitting. This is not symphonic horn playing. It is more energized, with an urban jazz moodiness to the songs that kept my interest. The band lays down great grooves, cool compositions and interesting arrangements, all recorded well. Technically, I particularly liked the drum sounds and the sense of space around the drums—like you really feel the room environment interacting with the sounds.

For LP addicts such as me, the four sides are labeled A-D. According to the record jacket, Flea plays bass on the first track of side B and I would say I enjoyed sides B and C (minus the final track on C called Rabbit Hop) the most. The first track on side C is called Jupiter, and if I had to choose a favorite song, that would be the candidate at the moment—although this music runs around your head and grows on you, so my preferences could evolve.

Jupiter starts off with the feel of a ballad—it is amazing how the sousaphone anchors the bottom like a stand-up or electric bass—one aspect of this whole record that blew me away. The song features truly compelling and complex arrangements over the sousaphone, with little bursts of melody that are just “so right.” The song builds and there is what feels like improvisation over a B-flat major to A-minor progression—I am digging this, it feels like a dirty panoramic New York City moment from the 1970’s television (see Shaft or Kojak).

There was another moment about half way through the 3rd track on side D where the trombone grabs the melody and delivers so beautifully over the top of everything else. I love little moments like that. There is a song called Rabbit Hop that appears twice (once as the last song with a Moog synth part)…I am not feeling this one. Too monotonous for me. I can’t find emotion in it like I could the other tracks.

Overall, I walked away from the record feeling like I had absorbed something unique, something made with love and passion. I could hear humans playing instruments—tough to find in modern music these days. I bet these guys tear it up live and I would encourage anyone with an opportunity to see them to grab it!

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John Fowler Remembered Always

March 20, 2010 by
John sings2 12 06

Two years have elapsed since the tragic passing of friend and Voodoo Jets drummer John Fowler. I have reflected a lot—I have embraced the pain, not buried it. John was wonderfully unpredictable as an artist, both on stage and in the studio—heck, even in practice. He was terribly passionate about his craft, and anything less than a focused effort from me met with a stern comment and a finger wag, if not a carefully placed airborne drumstick. John also blessed me with his overflowing positive energy—he loved my songs and to have a band dynamic like that was a special gift. There were times when Perrouna’s outrageous bass playing and John’s drumming were so locked and so sexy, I had to stop and just drown in it. HowJohn sings2 12 06 many artists have the privilege to be in a band that good, that special? There were moments when I’d hear John’s work and I knew (and audiences knew, other musicians knew, producers knew) that we were in the presence of a very special performer. I absolutely cherish the 5-plus years we had together; the little cinderblock room in Bridgeport where it all began, and all of the memories that followed us on the road as a trio. John’s fire will live on as part of the fabric that makes me the player and writer that I am today. There is a wonderful video of John with Steelheart—I think there are a few moments here that really capture his personality. Please help me celebrate the life of John Fowler and enjoy in his honor:

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Back in Action–Firing Up The Caprice For 2010

March 16, 2010 by
Caprice dairy farm

With the torrential winds and rain having moved out of the area and several days of sunshine in the forecast, I decided to yank the bulky Caprice out of storage and burn unreasonable quantities of fossil fuel. Every year it amazes me—I use my rubber-insulated Snap-on wrench to reconnect the negative cable to the battery and the car fires right up. I let it run for awhile and then head out to the dairy farm.

 Caprice dairy farm

So to be clear, the music system in this car was originally built in 1996 when I acquired the vehicle. Installer extraordinaire Jason Venne integrated an Alpine CD tuner from the mid-1990’s that was made specifically to physically fit in place of General Motors OEM (original equipment manufacturer) radios. My car made that chore difficult because the heater controls are integrated in to the same faux-wood plastic panel, but Venne showed why he is The King and made it work beautifully.

Now there were other rules of engagement regarding this system build—I bought this car because I liked its almost laughably antiquated interior design, including Art Deco-like door panels with plastic trim and crank window handles. So all loudspeakers had to be integrated into their factory locations. I didn’t want any “new holes” in the car. I happen to have always liked dashboard speaker locations sonically—This car had OEM 4X6 ovals in front, 6X9 ovals under the rear parcel shelf. Venne set up back of the car for an infinite baffle subwoofer (another technique I favored when I had my facility) including carefully applied heat-activated sound deadening material called V-BLOK.  09_INT (14)

Fast forward (from 1996) to present—I decided to remove the infinite baffle woofers and have old friend George Briscoe, currently employed at High Fidelity Autosport in Newington, CT design me an optimized enclosure for a pair of Focal woofers I had fallen in love with years ago. I handed George parameters for the drivers that I had extracted by good friend Tom Holmes, who tested and measured them for me. Additionally, I had George relocate the amplifiers and electronic crossover from the center/rear of the trunk to the right/rear quarter. I bought a new JL Audio HD600/4 (with remote subwoofer level control—a must for all of my systems) to run the rear speakers and the woofers, and I used my all-time second favorite car amplifier to run the fronts—an Audison HV Sedici (built about 16 years ago). The Audison HR-100 is my favorite car amp ever made—but I don’t own one…

HvSedici

So no holes in the car, no EQ, a new subwoofer enclosure (built from ultra-lite MDF to keep weight down) and an amp rack that allows me full access to all amp and crossover adjustments. Tuning the system has progressed nicely, but I expect it to be a month-long project as I get acclimated to the sound and carefully massage away bumps and dips in frequency response. This is a simple, clean, invisible music system (to quote the legendary Rich Inferrera) that maintains the integrity of the car but delivers detailed, dynamic, accurate sound with enough power to help overcome the rage of the not-so-quiet Caprice 9C1.

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A Little Train in the Rain

March 15, 2010 by
Train1

Took the family to see the band Train at the Calvin Theater in Northampton, Mass. Last show I saw there was Lyle Lovett, who tore it up. The opening band was an energetic pop act called Butch Walker and the Black Widows. I guess chicks dig the singer but they were legitimately good. No question Train has some great songs in their repertoire along with some mush—I am not sure what else to call it. Patrick Monahan is singing “marry me” and some guy is proposing in the audience (eeek)…Train1

I typically like my live rock sets a little edgier—but Train was good regardless. Butch Walker was good too…Train treated us to a cover of Zep’s Ramble On and Van Halen’s Dance the Night Away, and Walker came out and sang with Train on the Van Halen tune. Monahan actually came out with a costume mustache (in jest of the Black Widow’s guitarist’s real deal) and sang the Black Widow’s cover of Rich Girl (Hall & Oates). The sound throughout the evening was OK, not great—there were some bass/midbass conflicts that had been left unattended to…

But I was tortured—I was listening to song after song of near perfect three part harmonies from both acts and I see the in-ear monitors they are all wearing. Are they great entertainers kicking ass on stage, or are they pretenders using electronics to make the vocals work? I commend Monahan in a big way for singing the opening stanza of one song with just a little keyboards and no mic (!!!)…as he told the crowd, “one nice thing about these smaller venues is the intimacy—would it be OK if I sung this song to you without this mic between us?” As a lover of live music, I appreciate stuff like that.

There has been an occasion or two where I have been trapped on an Airbus seeking sanctity from my iPod and have truly enjoyed a few Train songs; I enjoy the songsmanship (this night, my favorites were Save Me San Francisco, Drops of Jupiter, and Calling All Angels). I had a worthwhile evening despite the 90 minute drive and shit weather—but I wasn’t moved by any of it. I was a happy paying customer and the bands were good but I got no chills, no burning inspiration, nothing like that. Each person takes in a live show differently—this just wasn’t my night for an epiphany…

And one last observation from the concert—obesity is out of control. It’s not to persecute these people or make fun—it’s not funny! Go pick up a 30-pound or 50-pound weight (carefully) in a gym. Imagine the stress on your back and knees from carrying that EXTRA bulk around everywhere. Better groceries cost more to buy and a decent meal takes longer to prepare, but what could be a more worthwhile investment? I read something recently that Whole Foods gives real financial incentives to their employees for being in good health, including a check for nicotine and body fat. If you fail, you lose. Bravo!

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All That Glitters May Not be 1970′s Gold

March 13, 2010 by
Boats Against The Current LP

So another song I fell in love with as a kid was Lonely Boy by Andrew Gold. It was a masterful composition featuring a compelling lyrical story, syncopated verse rhythms, a killer chorus, and searing lead guitar work by Gold himself (if I am not mistaken). I love 1970’s pop production sensibilities—of course there are exceptions, but that decade gave us some great sounding music. So in today’s era of Internet connectivity, I began seeking out and connecting (some might call this stalking) with some of the other work Gold did. One such example includes guitar work on an Eric Carmen LP from 1977 called Boats Against The Current. Not knowingE_carmen1 anything about this artist, I decided to take a shot and see what fell from the sky. I was able to snap up an unopened copy (Arista LP) from a trusty ebay seller and dive right in. I started the record from the top despite the fact that both of Gold’s contributions reside on side two. Although the songs are overflowing with great performances (Toto’s Jeff Porcaro on drums, Richie Zito on guitar for some of the tracks) both instrumentally and vocally—and the recordings are great, I felt like this was the misdirected rock music that must have inspired the Punk rebellion. It has that melodramatic made-for-TV feel complete with string arrangements that gave me visions of an off-Broadway production or the gripping conclusion to an episode of General Hospital. But I fought through the tedium of it and finally got to the songs with Gold’s guitar work. It was OK, nothing life-changing. But I did really like the first song he was featured on, called She Did It—which charted pretty well in 1977. This song feeds my unquenchable addiction to lush harmonies, arranged by Beach Boy Bruce Johnston. And if you are going to soften rock’s razor edge with strings, at least this record features real strings rather than a synthesizer, which back then would have been something like an Arp String Ensemble, a wood-sided relic that I used live with The Detours back in 1983. OK for gigging, but certainly no substitute for a room full of violins, violas, and cellos. Overall, the LP had a few moments and is terrific sonically, but the style and songwriting just doesn’t make me howl in the night. One overwhelming positive from this listening session: While spinning the LP, I had some decaf green tea (in my new Bryston mug) with a Vermont-made gluten-free cookie from a brand called Liz Lovely…and they ROCK!! More calories to burn…

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Covering a Great Pop Song with Two Boston Legends

March 7, 2010 by
rick4
rick4

Rick Berlin's "Me and Van Gogh"

I feel tremendously fortunate and thankful for the opportunity to have worked with gifted artists over the years. For my solo CD of piano-based songs due out later this year, I recorded a burlesque-ish piano version of Cheap Trick’s “Heaven Tonight” with the legendary Rick Berlin on vocals and the shining and vibrant David Minehan (David’s band The Neighborhoods toured with Cheap Trick back in the day) at the controls. I enlisted the generous support of percussionist Jeff Muzerolle, who also helped me with harmonies on the chorus…David’s Woolly Mammoth studio in Waltham, MA. (I was born there) is a beautifully appointed hotbed of creative activity, but on this day it was Berlin—in all of his glorious savant-like interpretation of the song, who knocked me over. Honestly, I thought my dark, plodding G-minor arrangement of the song might throw Rick over the edge, but NOPE. Rick gave no sign of what was to come as I played him my unorthodox version of the song, until he stepped into the isolation booth and blew me away. Rick is an artist to the core—uninhibited and colorful. When I constructed the piano part, I wanted to pay homage to the pallor of the song, and retain some of the features of the original guitar and bass parts, without getting too flowery in the right hand. I played as dynamically as I could, backing way down in the instrumental bridge and working a fairly complex damper (sustain) pedal part without imparting too much mechanical noise into the recording. Rick sang to the arrangement brilliantly and all I could think of on the ride home was how I need to make a whole friggin record with that guy. Incidentally, it was one of Rick’s more recent songs (Me and Van Gogh) that triggered the proverbial light bulb in my head to record a wide open piano-based record. Want some wonderfully alive unconventional pop art? Check out Rick Berlin: www.rickberlin.com

Woolly (8)

Minehan at the controls...

Rick Berlin sings Heaven Tonight

Rick Berlin sings Heaven Tonight

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It All Began in Bed with an AM Radio

March 3, 2010 by
H Gross

I think I was practicing Bartok on the piano when I discovered pop music, an art form that was forbidden—well certainly frowned upon in my house growing up. I had to catch what I could listening very quietly in bed to WRKO AM Boston on a white single-speaker vacuum tube radio with a huge tuning dial and orange tweed grill cloth. Having been exposed to quite a bit of choral music as a child and singing in Youth Pro Musica (a choir for children based in greater Boston) in the 1970’s, it was always harmonies and chord voicings that boiled my blood right out of the gate. Even as I was gradually discovering The Beatles and The Beach Boys and catching pop hits like Neil Sedaka’s “Laugher in the Rain” and the Bay City Roller’s “Saturday Night,” there is no mistaking or ever forgetting your first love—and my first love was and forever will be the song “Shannon” by Henry Gross. The LP was called Release from 1976—I currently own two copies. I would wait and wait and wait some more for that hot, noisy, radio to play Shannon. I pounded the air-drums through the entire cut, especially the little break at the end before the outro. But the song lives and breathes through the harmonies and the falsetto lead vocal woven through each chorus. The track opens with an electric guitar riff in F major, leading to the first verse in F major. The verse progressions are simple but lush and elegant, classic 70’sH Gross pop sensibility. The final chords of the verse take us from B-flat major to a subtle B-flat over C in the bass the resolves to C-major and beautifully sets up the choruses in F-major. The choruses hit like a tidal wave thanks to HUGE Beach Boy-like harmonies (loud in the mix, too) beneath Henry’s well executed falsetto melody. Simple as it is, I just love the chorus sequence—first measure of the chorus is F-major, followed by G-minor, back to F-major and then the inversion—E-flat major over B-flat that resolves to a B-flat major chord, and into the next stanza. The chorus ends with this sexy sweep from D-minor to G-major (but the 7th is in there…the voice is singing F-natural in the “ah’s” over the G)…It kills me every time. The first go-around the chorus exits into the second verse…but the second chorus treats us to a variation—we get the lyric “just like the one in our backyard” repeated, and on the second time through there is this tasty ascending bass line that comes to glorious rest on a high F-natural with a guitar chord that is voiced (going up) F, G, B-flat, D although I can also hear the G below middle C between the bottom of the guitar chord and the F in the bass—I am not sure where the heck that note comes from. But the listener just knows that something colossal is going to happen next as the band stops dead—and then there is this 70’s ROCK GOD drum moment followed by the outro—vocal harmonies over a repeated progression (F-major, G-minor 7th, F-major over A in the bass and back to the G-minor 7th) and the top note in the vocals alternates from A to B-flat over the changes…This song crushes me every time. Did I mention that the song is about the loss of a beloved family dog?

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