Note-Able Music
Welcome to Note-Able Music!
Check out our lists of suggested music, give old favorites another spin, and get a grip on new artists.
Gail's Top Songs from 2011
Prologue: Music is integral to my life as it enables me to survive idiots (drivers) during my daily Highway 34 commute, to forget worries and cares, and since I am over 40… 50, sniffling as I listen to Lindsey Buckingham’s ‘Swing Low, Sweet Chariot…bring us back our youth….’ (the sniffling might be from poignant lyrics or, more realistically, from viewing the cover photo of a much older Lindsey who is ‘around’ my age) …all these during my commute...Darn! I am one of those idiot drivers!
Commuting Songs
Artist Album Song
Lindsey Buckingham In Our Own Time Seeds We Sow
The Cars Too Late Move Like This
Limousines Dancing At Her Funeral Get Sharp
Foster the People Tie: Helena Beat and Waste Torches
Airborne Toxic All At Once All At Once
AWOLNATION Knights of Shame Megalithic Symphony
Cut Copy Strangers in the Wind Zonoscope
My Morning Jacket Holdin’ On to Black Metal Circuital
Social Distortion Alone & Forsaken Hard Time & Nursery Rhymes
Sounds Tie: It’s So Easy and Dance with the Devil Something to Die For
Honorable Mention
The Strokes Two Kinds of Happiness Angles
Meddz Pick Up the Phone
Lupe Fiasco Coming Up Lasers
Red Hot Chili Peppers Meet Me at The Corner I’m With You
Decemberists Down By the Water The King is Dead
Grouplove Colours Grouplove
Weepy Songs for those “over 40…50….
Lindsay Buckingham End of Time Seeds We Sow
The Cars Take Another Look Move Like This
Awesome voice!
Adele Rolling In the Deep, Rumour Has It, Someone Like You Adele 21
A 2011 “discovery” from 2010
(Listen to it and weep if you are over 40…..50)
Brian Johnson (AC/DC) If I Had a Hammer Love & Peace/ Greatest Hits for Kids 2010
Pete's Top 10 of 2011
Because music can be such a personal journey, I decided to do my top 10 list a little differently. Instead of limiting to stuff that was put out in 2011, below you’ll find a list of my top 10 musical experiences of 2011. Some of these are new, some are things that came out years ago and I’m also only just now discovering.
You’ll also find that some of this stuff is not currently available at your local library. Oh my, whatever shall we do!
The good news is that you have options for items not available at your local library, and you may find a great opportunity to explore those options.
Option A: Ask that an item be added to the collection.
The great thing about this option is that it allows others to benefit from your addition.
Option B:
The great thing about this option is that the turnaround is usually faster.
Enjoy!
1. Joey Kneiser The All Night Bedroom Revival
I came across this based on this excellent cover by another favorite musician (below).
Kneiser has put out one great, sparse country album with the kind of songwriting that you just don’t hear anymore. Deeply personal, but musically sound, I guess I have to question your sanity if you’re not willing to accept an artist-endorsed free download.
If you are a friend or acquaintance of mine, I would like to apologize for spending the entire last year talking about this album more than I talk about my family, my job, or my purpose on this planet. I haven’t been this excited by a single work since...well, let’s put it this way. I own two albums on vinyl. One is Quiet Riot’s Metal Health, and the other is Here We Rest.
If you are a believer in country music, you’ll love it. I guarantee. With the songwriting abilities of Dylan paired with guitar skills that can only result from the unholy mix of Van Halen and Alabama’s finest, it’s a homerun. If you’re one of those people who say, “I like everything. EXCEPT country,” try this one out. If you hate it, then you’re right.
] 3. Dawes (in general, as a band)
They’ve been around a couple years, and they’re finally starting to get a little recognition with their 2011 release, Nothing is Wrong. But they’ve been the real deal all along. Check out this live cut from their previous album, North Hills.
4. Buying a Pair of Boots
I know, not strictly a musical thing here. But hear me out.
A pair of boots is the best possible accessory you can have for seeing live music. You’ll be a little taller so you can see better, your feet become unsmashable, and they’re just comfortable.
If you go to concerts, get yourself a nice pair of flat boots. Trust me on this one.
5. The Band
There was a reason that these guys were just known as “the Band.” Which band? THE Band.
This is probably going to sound like a commercial or something, but trust me, if I had Spotify money I wouldn’t be here writing this.
I’ve fooled around with a number of streaming radio solutions. Yahoo radio, Pandora, and others. So far, Spotify feels much better for me. You can build playlists, OR listen to streaming radio recommended based on your tastes.
Okay, it’s not perfect. And lord help me, but when an ad comes up for some new album, I want to dive on the computer to make it stop half the time. But overall, it’s working for me, and I’d say give it a try.
The duo flying the banner the Civil Wars put out a great album in 2011, but to be honest, all tracks pale in comparison to the title track. It’s pretty unbelievable, and a rare excellent pairing of a man’s and a woman’s voice that doesn’t sound like a clearer version of the couple in the apartment above me arguing.
The soundtrack for the motion picture Win-Win is almost as mysterious to me as the motion picture Win-Win. It’s filled with songs by a fellow named Lyle Workman, who Wikipedia claims is best known for his work on the Superbad soundtrack(?) And then , for some reason, after 20 Workman tracks, we get one little gem by the National. Why? I haven’t the foggiest. Seriously, if I had to guess, I would say that there was some weird situation where Paul Giamatti was gifted the song because the lead singer of the National loved his portrayal of John Adams so much. I understand that’s a really terrible guess, but I’d like to see you come up with something equally plausible and equally entertaining.
I have a love/hate thing with Bon Iver. I love them because they put out some great music. Just awesome stuff.
I hate them because this stupid album made me cry on an airplane. I don’t recommend being in tears when you have to turn down a packet of fiesta mix. It just feels odd.
Ian's Top 10 Songs of 2011
Michelle's Top 10 Songs of 2011
James' Top 10 Songs of 2011
R.I.P. Heavy D
Heavy D: 1967-2011
The world lost another legend. It's been a rough year for music.
With a potential comeback in the works and a daughter he loved very much (his family said his "'most important triumph' was becoming a father, and that he often said he couldn’t bear the thought of life without his 13-year-old daughter Xea.") Heavy D still had a lot to offer.
Check out some of his hits below, including his final performance at the BET Awards.
Death of a Legend
On October 23rd, George A. Johnson passed away.
That might not be a musical name that you know, and that's okay. Johnson was the inspiration behind the Drive-By Truckers song "The Sands of Iwo Jima."
Patterson Hood, great nephew of George and member of the Drive-By Truckers, wrote the wonderful memorial below. Below that you'll find the song inspired by Johnson. It's a song that has turned a lot of fans onto the Truckers, and we're all very fortunate to have shared in a small piece of the person behind it.
GEORGE A. JOHNSON - It's A Wonderful Life (May 26, 1920 - October 24, 2011)
My beloved Great Uncle passed away yesterday. He was actually more like a second father to me. As a child, I spent every single weekend of my life with him on his farm from before I was two until I was a teenager and became too busy trying to chase girls to want to be out at the farm riding go-karts anymore. I'm sure he was sad when that happened, but he never made me feel bad about it as he knew that it was the way of the world and how it was supposed to be.
When George A. was born, President Wilson was in the White House. He lived to see 17 Presidents. Imagine someone who was alive for George Washington living to see the Lincoln assassination. When he was a little boy, they rode into town on horseback and he lived to see a man on the moon. He lived through the Great Depression and survived Iwo Jima in World War II. He was born a white man in the deep segregated Jim Crow South and lived to cast his vote for Barak Obama in the 2008 election at the age of 88. I felt like he was as proud of that as I was.
After WWII, George A. took a job delivering trucks for International Harvester in Springfield, Ohio but his family ties were so strong that he commuted home every weekend to McGee Town Alabama to help out his parents on the homestead farm. He was born in the front room of the old three-room house, along with my Grandmother and their other brother. (Two other siblings were lost in the influenza epidemic of 1918). The farm was deeded to The Johnson Family when Alabama became a state and his ties to it were unimaginably strong. His mother passed away in December 1963 (watching As The World Turns at my Grandmother's kitchen table) and I was born three months later and George A. and I were inseparable from day one.
Every friday afternoon he would ride the bus home from wherever his last delivery was (he delivered new trucks to the dealers) and I would ride out to the farm with him and stay there all weekend. We'd stay up late and watch movies on TV and I'd spend all day playing on the farm which looked more like a park. Sometimes he'd take me to movies in town and when I was a little boy I would sit in his lap while he bush-hogged the farmland. Later when I became of go-kart age, he would cut paths in the field resembling a city grid with on ramps and off ramps for my cousin Tommy and I to play chase through. We did play Bullitt, just like the song says. Later we would stay up and watch Saturday Night Live and on sunday, he would take me back home to my parent's house and then ride all night on a Greyhound Bus, back to Cincinnati then hop a ride up to Springfield to repeat the process again.
George A. never married. He was very handsome, Gary Cooper handsome, and women always seemed to really like him but he was painfully shy and always on the move. I think at times he wished that he had, but he never really talked about that kind of thing much. I do know that he always considered me to be the son he never had and as I said, he was a second father to me. (I really hit the jackpot on the Dad thing, as my real Dad is such a great man and I also had an amazing Grandfather in my life).
George A. was very tall, over 6 foot 5, in an era when not many men were six feet tall. He was thin and kind of lanky, but very athletic and strong. He had beautiful blue eyes that I still see when I look into my own children's eyes. They seem to be inheriting his sweetness also and I am very thankful for that. As shy as he was, he always opened up around children. Always had and did all the way until the very end. He was one of those 'kid magnets' you hear about, in the best of ways. My little boy isn't old enough to remember him, but my daughter Ava bonded with him very strongly and absolutely loved him, as did my sister's kids. He would absolutely light up when kids were around and he and I had an uncanny communication that defied his reputation for shyness. He was funny and smart and full of great stories about the old days and his beloved old horse Old Robinson, who took on superhero greatness in GA's stories as he grew older.
One time, George A. was riding Old Robinson back from town down by the old Forks of Cypress plantation place and Ghost Bridge. I'm assuming George A . was a teenager, which would have made it around 1935 perhaps. In those days, the old bridge was already decrepit and creepy with one lane across the old Cypress Creek crossing below the big columned house on the hill. The supports and guardrails were already rusty and the planks lay across the support beams in parallel rows with gaps between them that you could see through to the swollen creek running below. He and Old Robinson were perhaps running a little fast and the horse's legs fell through two of the gaps. He was stuck, down to his belly on the bridge with his legs and hooves dangling below him. George A. jumped off and ran the whole rest of the way to their farm to get help, some big strong Johnson men and their horses, to hoist the poor animal off his precarious position. GA was just hoping that he wouldn't be too late to save his beloved partner.
When George A. and the men and the animal help returned, about four miles, which is a long sprint by foot, Old Robinson was standing next to the bridge, patiently waiting on them to return. He was banged up and bleeding, but was otherwise unscathed and soon was as good as new. I remember George A. telling me that story a time or two as a child, but as he reached 90 or so, it became a story that he would tell me every time that I saw him. Usually he'd ask me if I remembered Old Robinson. I would smile and say that I thought Old Robinson was probably a little before my time but that I felt like I knew him. Then he'd tell me the story again.
The farm was the final destination for all of the old cars from our family that the original owners had updated from. George A. worked very hard and had no children of his own, so he was exceptionally generous with his money when it came to his family. He was known to slide a family member a down payment on a new car (or sometimes buy it right out) and take their old car. The farm was home to a white 59 Ford (like a sedan version of the classic Perry Mason car), an old black Studebaker with the machine gun styled emergency brake and front grill. (Maybe one of the coolest cars ever built). An old Nash that he would hide chewing gum and candsy in for the kids to find when they came out to see him; a 1964 Chevy Impala that he had just bought for his mother when she passed and he subsequently gave to my Grandfather who put a couple of hundred thousand miles on it commuting to and from Brown's Ferry Nuclear Power Plant and a 1971 Dodge sedan. There was also a 52 Chevy parked and rusting on the main hill where once his brother saw a copperhead sunning itself on the front seat. When I was born, I was brought home from the hospital in the 64 Impala (just like the one later made famous by Dr. Dre, but without the bouncy suspension) and at about 12, I learned to drive on the three on a tree column in the Studebaker. Once I outgrew my go-kart, I could be seen driving that 59 Ford around the farm (and perhaps a little on the county roads around the farm, but don't tell Mom and Dad).
When Mike Cooley and I started Adam's House Cat, George A. "loaned" us some money to buy a little PA system to practice and play shows with. (The concept of clubs having sound was a foreign concept in my town back then). He never liked Rock and Roll music and never once came to see me play, but he knew that it was all somehow very important to me and he was always beyond supportive. Mike loved him too. Everyone that met him always did. What a sweet wonderful man he was and you always had a good feeling anytime you were around him. I never saw him angry or upset. When tragedy struck, he was always calm and stoic and a quiet beacon of strength. When my Grandmother passed away he was obviously heartbroken, but as strong as ever. She was probably the person on Earth that he was the closest to. His older brother had passed a few years earlier and the three Johnson siblings were a force of nature.
Years later, I wrote a song about George A. called The Sands of Iwo Jima. I attempted to capture a little of the essence of this great man in word and felt like I had at least scratched the surface a little. I was very proud of the song and took my acoustic guitar out to see him and sang it to him. Don't really know if it was his cup of tea, but I think he appreciated the sentiment. His response was "This isn't going to cause people to start coming out to the farm to interview me and put TV cameras in my face, is it?"
I assured him that no such thing would ever happen and that was that.
A few years later, filmmaker Barr Weissman decided to make a movie about Drive-By Truckers and from which we came, and he trekked out to GA's farm and did exactly that. He spent half a day out at the farm while GA graciously showed him the sink hole and the two barns and probably told him about Old Robinson and then he built a fire in the old iron Big Boy Stove in the front room where he was born and we sat there while tiny Ava Ruth slept in his still strong arms. It is one of my most prized memories and was the beginning of their beautiful relationship.
It was an amazing and wonderful life and he lived it his own way with dignity and grace. He was a sober man. I never saw him take a single drink in my entire life, yet never felt like he was judging me. One time we parked our cars out at the farm when the band was taking off for a long cross country tour and he cleaned my car for me while I was gone. Lord knows what he might have found, but it was never acknowledged. I think he knew that I was a fairly responsible adult and would be alright. I think he was proud of the fact that I persevered and did this thing that I had set my sights on when I was a little child playing air guitar in that front room to the stereo he bought me.
He was 88 before he had to leave the farm and move in with my Mom, and not long after that we had to "fix" his Cadillac so that it wouldn't start anymore because he was getting a little confused and we were worried about his driving. At 90, his only daily meds were the two blood thinner pills he took everyday for his last decade or so, and he managed to only have to live in a nursing home for the last two months of his life. There was a minimum of suffering and even though he was in mid stages of Alzheimer's, he still knew who he was and had a fairly decent notion of who those of us around him were. This certainly wouldn't have been the case for much longer and as much as I am sad and miss him, I am grateful for that.
Tom Brokaw wrote his best selling book about "The Greatest Generation" and even then they were fading fast. I recently lost my beloved Great Aunt Blanche a couple of months ago. She was George A.'s sister in law and very much the matriarch of my extended family. She had lost her husband nearly two decades ago and my Grandmother, "Sissy" passed away back in 2002 while I was playing in New Orleans. Our links to their time in our world are passing before us as our rapidly changing world forges on into tomorrow.
Now George A. is gone too. Gone, at least in the mortal flesh realm. He's still very much alive in me and in the millions of things he influenced in our family's lives. He's still very much alive in my darling children's eyes and in how they possess his sweetness of way. He's still alive walking around the homestead, picking up limbs and chainsawing the stump and bush-hogging the floorboarding field and in the warmth in my heart when I think of him. As the sun sets, facing the front of the old falling-in house, no longer shadowed by my favorite old oak tree, he's still standing there on the front porch as I drive off, watching my taillights disappear into the dusk. And waving goodbye.
Patterson Hood - October 25th 2011 (Back Lounge, Minneapolis MN, 1st and 7th)
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