How The Songs Of A Local Band, Whose Flashbulb Existence Became The Soundtrack Of My Life
Now more than ever, music informs my everyday moments, determines my mood, and regularly holds me in a trance. I do not often write on this, feeling my words and less-than-formal education in the medium will do a disservice to the musicians and melody makers.
Get me in close quarters, drink in hand, and, if allowed to rant unimpeded, trace out for you musical histories, technological legacies, and a lineage of what band begat another. While the imagery, tenor, and sense of movement of music show up in my professional writing side gig, writing about IT is daunting.
The floodgates for attacking this sort of thing opened up after I wrote a fan letter to Dylan and Pedro of Lulu Lewis obsessing over their Dyscopia album. Within a few days of pushing away my feelings of awkwardness and hitting send (I am connected to the band via a friend), a blast from my past reemerged, took hold and has not let go since.
The Sway And The Swing
Is music a fountain of youth? Take one look at Keith Richards and Willie Nelson; they are not young looking by any means, but either one can play and tour, circles around musicians half their age. In the mythology of bluesmen, one must sell their soul to the devil to play so well for so long. While I love the legends and creation stories behind the performers, I am more inclined to credit the music itself; there is genuine magic in the notes, rhythms, and rhymes.
We all have our favorites, songs that strike a chord and help us shake off the years, if but for a moment, and revel in the passion and energy emanating from the speakers. The same can be true when confronted with new sounds and lyrical ideas, cognitive connection - pathways, once shuttered, opened anew by a needle running through grooves.
Brief, Brilliant, Ballsy
For me, there is a (very) obscure band that has been a connective tissue throughout my adult life, traveling with me and informing every stage. Sidecar Jones released their eponymous album in the late 90s and distributed it at live shows; it is unclear if it ever gained national support or record label attention.
The CD was produced by the brilliant Peter Denenberg, who had just previously worked on the Spin Doctors' Pocket Full Of Kryptonite.' Regrettably, the band, mainly consisting of Mavis Jennings, Paul Holditch, and Andrew Hann, dissolved under the dual pressures of life and outside opportunities. Its brief, brilliant, and ballsy existence left behind a few memorably manic live shows and a remarkable gem preserved on disc.
The Rhythm For Living
While my wife Amy and I collected music over the years, fluctuating between 200 and 350 CDs, I always returned to SCJ. The disc was in constant rotation, joining us on car rides and vacations. We turned to the album when we wanted to relax in our first joint apartment in Park Slope, and it was the first music we played when we moved into our house in 2006. Soon after, when my toddler-aged boys wanted to 'dance with dad,' it was these tunes I put on; with both kids in my arms bopping around the house, laughing and exhausting ourselves by matching the energy emanating from the speakers.
As streaming became my primary source, Sidecar Jones never fell out of favor; they may have faded into the background, but the songs kept bubbling up in my mind from time to time. Occasionally, I would search for the band online without success. Then a few weeks ago, I happened to catch a post on social - tagging Paul Holditch (we went to an audio engineering trade school together), announcing that the music was now available online.
Awake, From The Longest Sleep
To say I was enthralled would be an understatement; a stupid, happy rush coursed through my veins. Quickly as I could muster, the music played on my home-office sound system, and a wave of joy washed over me. No mere nostalgia, these songs lifted me up, the words instantly on my tongue, and my brain recalling the album sequence, hearing the first few notes in my head before they came alive in the air.
For the next few hours, I played the whole thing on repeat. Will I tire of it? Will I start to find irritating flaws to put me off (professional hazard)? Will others tell me I am delusional in my appreciation? I put the album aside for a day or two, then played it much too loud with the windows down while driving to work, and finally, up on the sound system at work
Yup, I was still digging it, and better yet, the folks around me (many of them active musicians and engineers) were positively curious about who was making such a beautiful racket.
I played the album while waiting to pick up my wife from the train that evening. As she stepped down from the platform, her ears perked up, "SideCar Jones? Wow! This was the soundtrack of our dating years, so good!"
These Tunes Turn Me On
Why do I love this music so much? The sound stands up as fresh now as it did all those years ago.
Firstly, the recording is fantastic, with no home-brew over modulated tones or buried vocals; the engineering is crystal clear and punchy as all get out. Ask anyone who has recorded bands, in particular rock bands, and they will tell you that a good drum sound is an elusive beast. On this album, the drums sing, the snares are sharp, and the toms irresistibly bounce you along.
Secondly, the lyrics have depth, breadth, and poetic emotion. Postulating the meaning and background of songs is always an awkward proposition. While all art is open to personal interpretation, there is also the danger of choosing 'Better Man' by Pearl Jam as your first wedding dance. Nonetheless, a few songs on the album have always stood out.
Insanity
is a breakup song mixing messy anger of romantic troubles with chagrin and a tinge of gallows humor. The lyrics capture the feelings of losing not just love but a partnership. The piece opens with a terrific melodically buzzy guitar, and the lines
What do you want from me cause I'm not there just to cheer you on cause you were not honest/ From the start, I said get out/
If I am to steal anything from the house that you say is yours, You know we built this house together/
(spoken) You can keep all that Tupperware anyway.
At the two live shows, I attended (all those years ago), this was the crowd favorite, singing along to the chorus of “Hey, hey, hey, it's all insanity” and providing knowing commentary along with numerous Woo's and 'hell yeah!"
Turn On!
The song that became the digital version's title is a raucous statement of the band's then ethos, bringing a mix of 70's funkiness and personality with an underbelly of peppy alternative 90s pop. It swings with a heart of gold.
The declarations start with
Today I swear/ There's magic everywhere/ People awakening from the longest sleep, I thought they'd never care/ Don't choose this fashion now and pout, just move this action, you can move with sound and end your deadly drought/
Turn on your mind tonight
Punctuated with whoops, shouts, and party infused, "Yeah! , Yeah, Yeahs, I find myself singing along with the Tra La Las and breaking out in little dance moves ( note- I nearly never dance, ever). I am left with a smile that is a mix of embarrassment and expressing irrepressible fun.
Little Soul
Regardless of the subject (thoughts of suicide, a friend's anguish?), the song has become somewhat of an anthem for my wife and me. As many know, Amy fought through Chemo and over eight operations to beat four cancers over two years.
The process involves facing the prospect of death, losing contact, and the sorrow of those to be left behind. The whole process is agonizing, where the individual questions if they should give up, saving others from seeing them disappear in such a tragic manner. There were many dark nights when I talked my wife through the despair, answering her questions about giving up with the fact that we would be less without her.
At the lowest point, Amy, hearing me play songs by Nick Cave, decided that I should play 'Into My Arms' at her funeral.
When we had a listening party of the album in my home office, she wanted to hear 'Little Soul' repeatedly, singing out the refrain of I'll say I've got to live/ I'd RATHER LIVE. I now listen to this every day.
March
Depeche Mode asked, 'What makes a man hate another man/ help me understand'; sadly, we are still dealing with hatred, especially against the LGBTQ community. Why anyone should have outrage about who consenting adults love is beyond me. So much energy is expelled on condemning essential human connections.
March is a rollicking protest song of affirmation. It starts with a simple declaration driven by pounding drums:
Bobby, where can we go/ To the city, where everybody knows but no one cares
Sister, I'll take you there/ We'll have a party, we're gonna make them stare/
March it on down the road/
Shortly thereafter, the singer vehemently cries, backed by raucous power guitars chords:
Father, how can you be so mean/
Even Jesus would understand/
If he could see us walking hand in hand/
Marchin on down the road
THIS! Is a rallying cry with a massive backbeat and should be mosh pit material. I would love to hear this tune rattling windows on Christopher Street during gay pride; I envision folks of every persuasion dancing and gyrating with abandon in the streets.
Share the Soul
The sheer joy and ecstasy I get from SCJ’s music are as close to spirituality as I will ever come; the blending of the primal and life examined instills a sense of rapture within me.
Do you have a local band that has become anthemic?
Sidecar Jones will forever hold an exalted place in my heart- frankly, I am better for it. I urge you to look them up and eagerly await a rumored set of live gigs along with me.
