It's Okay to Like the Hits

When I was twenty, a friend asked me if I liked David Bowie. I said yes. He asked me what songs I liked.

I of course knew who David Bowie was when I was twenty. He was a musician. He was married to Iman (who was in my favorite Star Trek movie). He was Jareth in that movie Labyrinth that a girl I had a crush on in middle school loved (but that I, honestly, never really got into beyond a burgeoning celeb-crush on Jennifer Connelly). He had a brief cameo in Zoolander. So I pulled the song briefly clipped in his scene.

"Let's Dance," I said.

"No," this guy said, matter-of-factly.

I was flummoxed, briefly. I thought more. He sang that great song with Queen.

"'Under Pressure' is a great tune..." I posited.

"Let it die already," he responded.

I thought more. Of course, the one I absolutely loved because of my life-long desire to travel the stars (see that I, at twenty, still had and still do have at 33, a "favorite" Star Trek film).

"'Ground Control to Major Tom,'" I said.

"That's not even what it's called. You don't like Bowie. You don't even know Bowie."

I tried my last grasp.

"'Suffragette City,'" I proudly proclaimed.

"You only know that because The Get Up Kids covered it," he responded.

"You only like the hits."

I conceded. I had come up against a cultural goaltender, and he deflected all of my shots.

"You call yourself a music fan," he added. I let him have it.

This kind of cooler-than-thou attitude, this hipster behavior, this cultural goaltending; I'm guilty of it. Recently.

I feel bad, now, today of all days. I feel bad because after I got shut down for "only liking the hits," I didn't dig deeper. It would be five years or so before I delved into Ziggy Stardust. Longer before I felt safe telling people that I liked "Space Oddity" and "Under Pressure." I didn't go back because I thought I had missed it. Well, I had, hadn't I?

I'm thirty three years old. When I was born, Bowie had been around. He had been an innovator. He had invented and reinvented himself already before I came on the scene. He would do it again before I became culturally aware enough to listen to the music my parents were listening to, to understand and develop from that base my own tastes, to let friends and MTV and the cultural juggernaut of sort-of-but-not-really-legal payola radio to present what they had, and for me to either accept or reject it. When I came into my cultural awareness, David Bowie was cool. I was not.

But now, having delved into not just the music but the person behind it, I know that David Bowie was not cool. Not always. What he did was just make the music he wanted to make. He didn't care about being cool. You discover, growing up uncool, that it's those on the fringes that define what will become cool. That's what Bowie did, through his music and his attitude. And he never stopped.

I spoke earlier about listening to the music my parents listened to. I don't want to paint a picture that just because they weren't listening to Bowie, they were doing me a disservice. There's too much culture out there, not everybody can catch every single innovator and know what will happen. No, my parents didn't have any David Bowie records. But you know what they did have? Queen. Paul Simon. The Moody Blues. A record of live performances from the Apollo, covering years. Joe Byrd and the Field Hippies. The Beatles. Louis Prima. Elton John. Buddy Rich. What I'm trying to say is that my musical education wasn't empty, it wasn't lacking, it wasn't incomplete. It's impossible to be a completist. Not everybody has the cool uncle with the whole Dylan catalog, or the older sister who copied all of her Jethro Tull albums onto cassette. We do the best with what we have. With luck, we find somebody with similar taste. We share the things the other doesn't know. We act not as goaltenders, not even as gate keepers, but as guides to each other. For every person out there who loves David Bowie, there's somebody who will, but they just haven't heard enough yet. Maybe they just know the hits. There's no need to punish somebody for only knowing what has been played on Top 40 Radio. Let the hits be a gateway to the deeper cuts. If somebody you know only knows one or two songs they've heard here and there, lend them a copy of the full album. Let them explore. Let them get to know the artist in their own way.

And let them know; it's okay to like the hits. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

A St. Louis Institution You've Probably Never Heard of Is Dead

Imagine, if you will, a bright-eyed and innocent eleven year old boy, awkwardly tall and skinny, with longish brown hair and a style one would equate with a person who was trying their best to be a hippie even though they didn't quite know what a hippie was or what they really looked like. That boy you are imagining is me, and I want you to imagine me as this boy on an unseasonably warm mid-February morning in 1994. Got it? Good.

I was in fifth grade at the time, a student in Mrs. Sach's class on the third floor of Avery Elementary, and Miss Payne, our music instructor, had just given us the information we needed to be ready to take our music placement tests for our pending transfer to Steger Sixth Grade Center, where we would either choose choir or band. For those of us making the smart decision to choose band, the placement test would determine whether or not we got our first, second or third choice of instrument or, failing that, if we would be assigned the flute. I knew that I wanted to play Trumpet. My older sister played saxophone and, being that as I understood brass players to be the rivals of woodwinds, and being that I wanted to remain my sister's rival because, at the time, I was eleven and she was 14 and we were required by the laws of nature to hate each other[citation needed], I knew I was making the right choice.

My father, a percussionist, drummer and high school band director in his own right, was heavily involved in my decision making process, in that he asked me which instrument I wanted to play and told me exactly what kind of trumpet I should rent to start out with and what kind he hoped he could buy me when I was older and could play really well. So before the placement test even happened, Dad announced he would take me to Mel Bay Music Center to rent me a trumpet, so I could get a jump start on the other kids. "But first," he told me on this particularly warm Saturday in February of 1994, "I have to run to the drum shop."

I had probably been in the drum shop before, I'm sure. My father used to go there all the time for drum heads, new sticks, marimba mallets, etc. I am almost positive that I'd been in there with him a few times. But something happened this time.

We walked into Drum Headquarters on Manchester Road and I stood stock still. Everywhere I looked, light glinted off of finished woods painted in the full spectrum of colors. To my right, cymbals shimmered golden under overhead spotlights. Men and boys were banging on drums and cymbals everywhere. Banging on them with sticks. I knew my dad played drums; I'd seen them in the basement. I'd seen him play dozens if not hundreds of concerts with a myriad of bands across every style of music conceivable. I had sat at my father's drum set, picked up sticks, and hit everything in sight with a fury unmatched by primal man in his day. I knew of this world, but when I walked into it that day, I discovered that I wanted to belong. My father found me hours later salivating under a Zildjian Paper Thin Crash. "Come on, we're picking you up a trumpet," he said, recognizing with fear the gleam in my eye. "How about," I said, "instead, I just get...a pair of...drumsticks...?" We never made it to the other store and I never learned how to play trumpet.

That was the magic of Drum Headquarters. Every time I entered the store, somebody was trying out a new snare drum or whacking a cymbal. Somewhere in the back a drum lesson was going on. A television mounted above the display models of top-of-the-line sets was always playing a video of Buddy Rich, Gene Krupa, Papa Jo Jones, Max Roach. The place was staffed by drummers who played out, who knew about the latest technological advances in bass drum pedal technology. It was noisy and colorful and wonderful every time you stepped in.

Throughout my teenage years, I was in the store at least once a week, picking up new sticks or new drum heads or scoping out a new hi-hat set. Birthdays and Christmases always provided DHQ gift certificates. I drooled over the Yamaha Stage Custom until I saw the Tama Swingstar, which I drooled over until the Rockstar came in, and then I couldn't decide and drooled over all three. I ended up with the Stage Custom but got to play a Swingstar in my high school Jazz Band. I only ever bought one piece of equipment from a store other than DHQ, and the experience made me never want to shop anywhere else but DHQ for my percussion needs.

Sadly, as I grew up and abandoned serious playing in favor of more casual musicianship, my visits became increasingly infrequent. In fact, the last time I was in there was probably two years ago, buying a new pair of drum sticks. I still felt that tingle, that excitement running through me. Being able not only to see the newest drums, but to feel them, run my fingers over the finish, give them each a good thwack if I feel like it; there's nothing like it.

This message was posted on the Drum Headquarters website last week:

Customers, friends and colleagues,

I regret to inform you that effective Thursday, July 7, Drum Headquarters is closed for business. These are difficult times for specialized retailers and of course, Drum Headquarters is no exception. Since purchasing the business in 2005, a perfect storm of events including epic negative economic conditions and the accelerating changes brought on by technology have produced a wave of challenges bigger than I could withstand. I've been a part of Drum Headquarters since 1983, so this is not an easy announcement to make. But, I've done everything in my power to keep the doors of Drum Headquarters open and it is no longer possible.

Customers with unfinished business will be contacted directly.

The Lesson program will continue through the month of July. You will be contacted with instructions by your teacher.

THERE IS NO LIQUIDATION SALE SCHEDULED AT THIS TIME. Please continue to monitor DrumHeadquarters.com for updates.

You can communicate with us via email at JimDrumHQ@aol.com

Thank you for 30 years of support, fun and friendship.

Jim Uding

We all know the economy is bad, but there are other factors alluded to. The growing technology changes, for instance, refer to the Internet. Look, I love the Internet. I am no Luddite when it comes to eCommerce. I get it; it's easier to purchase some things online. I will even admit, though I hate to, that buying books and music and movies online is not only cheaper but is often easier than going to a brick and mortar store, especially an independent one like the ones I frequent. But there are some things that just should NOT be purchased online. Like musical instruments. Even five hundred identical snare drums rolling off an assembly line will each sound slightly different. And without going to a store, how do you know what a certain drum (cymbal/guitar/trumpet/saxophone/violin/flute/oboe/mandolin etc) is supposed to sound like (this is something booksellers are complaining about, too, in that customers come to a brick and mortar store to look at a book and then purchase it online from Amazon, sometimes right there in the store with an iPhone)?

Since DHQ is now closed, there are only three or four places drummers can go to pick up a new set in the area: Fred Pierce's Drum Studio, a shop much like DHQ; Mozingo's Music, a more general shop that doesn't just specialize in drums; Guitar Center (a place I only have bad things to say about); and a Best Buy with the instrument shop (meh). Only a few years ago, we also had McMurray Music Center, which was the kind of independent shop Guitar Center is modeled on and which, sadly, became a Guitar Center. As these specialty shops disappear, they get replaced with stores who deal in volume sales. Sure, they're cheaper, but the staff are less knowledgeable, less helpful and less permanent. The guy behind the counter that day in 1994 was Jim, the man who purchased the shop six years ago and who had to shut down last week. Other staff members may have come and gone over the years, but they did so slowly, and almost always left for jobs in the music industry. These specialty shops are staffed by passionate professionals who really know what they're doing. And they're disappearing faster than we can blog about them.

Thank you, Drum Headquarters, for changing my life and helping me share one of my passions for many years. You will be missed.

30 Day Song Challenge Day 30 - Your Favorite Song at This Time Last Year

Without a doubt, the album I was driving Kathy crazy with at this time last year was my still recently acquired copy of the eponymous debut from Broken Bells. And if there's one track on that album I listened to repeatedly, it was the album's closing track.

So, I end my 30 Day Song Challenge with my favorite closing track of 2010, off my second favorite album of 2010. The band is Broken Bells, the album is Broken Bells and the song is "The Mall and Misery." My favorite track by far, parts of it feel like it could have emerged from a band like Tears for Fears in the 80's-but without the mullets and sweaters-and other parts feel more contemporary. And feel how instead of fading or ending it just kind of vanishes at the end. Ah! Enjoy.

30 Day Song Challenge Day Twenty Nine - A Song From Your Childhood

Hanging out and listening to music with my parents wasn't all childhood misogyny; many of my best memories include listening to music. And in accordance with it being Mother's Day and all, I'd like to say Happy Mother's Day to my mom, my wife, my grandma, my mother-in-law, my sister, and all the other moms out there. Seriously, Moms do good work.

Also in accordance with Mother's Day, and to refute the idea that all of my word and song associations which go with my mother relate through the lens of guilt, here's a bit of pure enjoyment I can recall: My mother, upon receiving a CD copy of this album, listened to it start to finish while singing along and dancing through the house. Especially vivid is the final track to this album, so that is what I'm picking.

The band is The Moody Blues, the album is Days of Future Passed and the song is "Nights in White Satin" so sit back, revel in the amazing prog-rockness of it all, and enjoy.



Other finalists: "Tuesday Afternoon" from the same album, "Little Red Riding Hood" by Sam the Sham and the Pharohs and pretty much anything off of Weird Al Yankovic's Dare to Be Stupid.

30 Day Song Challenge Day Twenty Eight - A Song That Makes You Feel Guilty

So, for years as a child I would bristle whenever I heard a woman singing a song on the radio. I would also call my mom out for singing along with a song if it was being sung by a guy. "Mom, that's a man singing, it's not supposed to be sung by a girl. I'm sure my mother was none too pleased about this. She probably feared I'd turn into some chauvinistic asshole who belittles his wife and crushes beer cans on his head. But I eventually got over it and plus, beer is meant to be consumed from special glasses which provide adequate surface area on which bubbles can form and proportioned openings so the aroma of the beer can fully penetrate your nasal passages while you drink. Duh. Pfft, cans.

Anyway, I got over it. I let my mother sing along with the radio. I even learned to love Grace Slick, Stevie Nicks, Janice Joplin and from them decided that some woman definitely know how to rock.

But every time I listen to a song sung by a female voice, I feel guilty about my preadolescent sexism. So today, you get to hear a song from kind of a super group of 90's girl band stars.

The band is Wild Flag, and the track is from the Future Crimes/Glass Tambourines 7" (released on Record Store Day 2011) and it's called "Future Crimes." And I hope you enjoy it. (my options for the video were this weird photo tribute or live videos with sub-par sound, so I chose audio quality)

30 Day Song Challenge Day Twenty Seven - A Song That You Wish You Could Play

Every one. Every single song ever.

Maybe not...there's a lot of crap.

This song is from a band called The Slip, off their album Eisenhower which has the most unfortunate opening track ever, "The Children of December," which upon hearing I had to fight the urge to write off the entire rest of the record. But I had heard "Even Rats" on NPR's World Cafe so I knew there was likely to be at least one other gem. And I was right. The song in question is called "Airplane/Primitive" and the only reason I can't play it is because I've never actually tried to figure it out. One of these days, I will. I mean, come on, I can play "Stairway to Heaven" and I can stumble through "Dust in the Wind," I should be able to figure this one out. Right?

30 Day Song Challenge Day Twenty Six - A Song That You Can Play on An Instrument

For the record, instruments I can play in descending order of proficiency (not counting various tiny percussion toys): Drums, guitar, bass guitar, keyboard percussion (marimba, vibraphone, xylophone), harmonica, piano (very small amount of those last two).

Instruments on which I can play the forthcoming tune: Drums, guitar (but not the solo), bass.

I also have been known to sing occasionally, and singers often call their voice their "instrument." As for the song, I will only give one line of introduction.

This is a song about hope.

30 Day Song Challenge Day Twenty Five - A Song That Makes You Laugh

For the last verse especially, this song makes me chuckle.

The song is by Nerf Herder, off their 1996 self titled album, and the song is "Van Halen."

"Is this what you wanted?/Sammy Hagar?/Sammy Hagar/Is this what you wanted man?/Dave lost his hairline/But you lost your cool, buddy/Can't drive fifty-five/I'll never buy your lousy records again."



Also, happy Star Wars Day. May the 4th Be With You. Awesome how today coincided with day 25 of the challenge and I happened to pick a band whose name is inspired by a line from Star Wars.

30 Day Song Challenge Day Twenty Four - A Song That You Want to Play At Your Funeral

The syntax is all wrong. "A song that you want to play at your funeral." First off, I'll have nothing to do with any songs being played at my funeral. I'll be dead. Second off, I always think of a second thing to add to a list.

The year is 1970. The band is The Beatles. The song is "Let it Be" off of the aptly titled Let it Be. Please remember, everyone, that this was their last studio album. And possibly my favorite. Better than the White album, even. And, my daughter once fell asleep in my arms as I sang this song to her. My heart melted kind of a lot.

30 Day Song Challenge Day Twenty Three - A Song That You Want To Play At Your Wedding

Considering I'm already married, I probably don't need to pick a new song.

Amongst the number of songs that were played at our wedding, our first dance as a couple was to Rod Stewart's version of "That's All" but my favorite bit of the dance was the last of the "wedding party" dances during which we invited everyone to dance.

Bobby Darin singing "Beyond the Sea." Because we're just awesome and classic like that.

30 Day Song Challenge Day Twenty Two - A Song That You Listen To When You're Sad

Just listen to it. It's by The Antlers, off their 2009 debut Hospice. It's called "Kettering" and it's indicative of the entire amazing album.

30 Day Song Challenge Day Twenty One - A Song That You Listen to When You're Happy

Again, skipped a day. My bad.

I just like listening to music when I'm happy, any music. But I guess I have to come up with something, huh?

Alright then, I chose a song off Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros' 2009 album Up From Below which I'm sure you've heard in six hundred car commercials, two dozen sitcoms and a limitless number of trailers for Indie films. It's called "Home" and it's a pretty positive and happy tune.



Best use of this song ever found here:

30 Day Song Challenge Day Twenty - A Song That You Listen To When You're Angry

Oh. My. Hm. I tend to, um, well...?

I just flipped through my iPod and pretended I was pissed off and stopped at the first song I would want to listen to, which just happens to be "How Soon is Now?" from 1985's Meat is Murder by The Smiths. So that's my answer this time. And you get the full nearly seven minute version, especially for readers of the blog!

30 Day song Challenge Day Nineteen - A Song From Your Favorite Album

Okay, so I was trying really hard not to repeat any albums or even any bands. But, I've already played a song off my current favorite album, a song off my favorite album from last year, and my all time favorite album from my all time favorite band.

So instead, you're getting a song from my second-favorite album of the moment. It's called "Down By the Water" off The Decemberists' 2011 release The King is Dead. I think it's awesome and also kind of sounds like "The One I Love" from R.E.M.'s 1987 release Document.



You be the judge:

30 Day Song Challenge Day Eighteen - A Song That You Wish You Heard on The Radio

Woops, skipped a day. My bad.

Today's song is a brand new song, which is on an album that hasn't been released yet. But that's not why it's not on the radio. It's not on the radio because radio stations tend to not play music from this band, leastways not traditional commercial radio stations.

The song is called "Helplessness Blues" and it's off the upcoming Fleet Foxes album Helplessness Blues.



Also good for day four, a song that makes you sad. Also good for day 3, a song that makes you happy.

Seriously, I cried once today while listening to this song, and smiled all the way through it another time. But today was kind of a hard day. see here

30 Day Song Challenge Day Seventeen - A Song That You Hear Often on the Radio

This one was really hard.

And I don't fully understand the visuals in this video.

NPR's "All Things Considered" Theme Music, engage!

30 Day Song Challenge Day Sixteen - A Song That You Used to Love But Now Hate

In 1995, I guess I was entering my "rebellious" phase, though I recently discovered that I wasn't so much rebelling as going through the acts of rebellion, because my parents weren't the type of parents that required rebellion. They were/are pretty awesome parents. I guess I just wanted them to set boundaries so I could push them. Anyway, I got into the band Everclear and in particular, their album Sparkle and Fade. I listened to the CD for something like four months straight.

As I got older, I stopped listening to it and then one day, I think just before college, I did a purge of my CD collection and sold a handful of discs to a used record shop (probably Vintage Vinyl as that was my store of choice in those days), including that Everclear CD. I had listened to each and every one of the CDs I had and I remember very definitely throwing this one in the "get rid of this crap" pile.

Actually, listening to it just now, I can say that while it's not a very good song, it's not a particularly terrible song, so maybe I just negated the whole "pick a song you used to love but now hate" but please let it be known that at one time I loved this song, then I hated it, and now I sort of listen to it with a hint of nostalgia and just a whiff of "what was I thinking?"

The song is "Strawberry" off Everclear's 1995 release Sparkle and Fade. I'ma go demand my parents set a curfew now, just so I can rebelliously break it by at least two hours.

30 Day Song Challenge Day Fifteen - A Song That Describes You

What follows is a transcript of the conversation preceding this post.

Elliot: Day fifteen, a song that describes me. Kathy?

Kathy: (with a pen between her teeth) "Teach me Tiger."

Elliot: Okay...how about another one.

Kathy: ...

Elliot: Okay, if they have it on youtube, I'll post it.



By April Stevens, released in 1959 as a single.

I...don't know, readers. I just...don't...know.

30 Day Song Challenge Day Fourteen - A Song That No One Would Expect You to Love

Types of songs I hate:

Anything by Nicklecrack/Creed/any one of a dozen carbon copy bands; way-too-twangy country; manufactured corporate pop; the specific type of country song where the guy sings about how his woman done left him and took the dog and he's got tears in his eyes.

The exception: The Reverend Horton Heat, 1999, "Where In The Hell Did You Go With My Toothbrush?" from Holy Roller.

30 Day Song Challenge Day Thirteen - A Song That Is a Guilty Pleasure

The fact that I like the original song is a guilty enough pleasure, but I get so much enjoyment out of the Literal Video version of Tears For Fears' "Head Over Heels" off their 1985 Release Songs From the Big Chair.

"Now the rabbi's walking right behind me/I don't know why he is following me/maybe he wants this book?"