“1 Corinthians 15:55” (Johnny Cash Cover)

For Johnny Cash chords & lyrics, CLICK HERE!

By Chris Moore:

And, introducing a new performer to the Laptop Sessions…

Mr. Elijah Bartholomeow Wilco (the cat)!

We usually call him Eli for short, and yes, he’s my cat.  And, yes, if you listen closely enough, that’s him in the background providing some harmony vocals.  To be honest, he’s not much worse than I am, although I’m not sure what that says about his abilities.  I tried explaining that Johnny Cash’s American series doesn’t really lend itself to multiple vocals, but he just wouldn’t listen.

In all seriousness, welcome to the start of a new week for us here at the best cover song music video blog in the world!  After I wrote my review of Mudcrutch for last night’s Weekend Review (written while sitting in my car in the Panera parking lot after they had closed but hadn’t turned off the wireless), I considered recording another Mudcrutch cover (in addition to my take on “Scare Easy”) to atone for my lukewarm review.  I really do love Tom Petty and want to love Mudcrutch, but —

Well, you should go back and read the actual review.

Instead, I decided to dig into the recent posthumous Johnny Cash album.  American VI: Ain’t No Grave is an excellent final chapter in Cash’s legendary catalog.  The songs are nothing surprising and are certainly in keeping with the tone of the other five, but the selections and the performances are all just right.  This track, “1 Corinthians 15:55,” is one of Cash’s final original compositions and, as you may have guessed, is based on the scripture referenced in the title.  I found chords and lyrics rather easily on the web, but – not surprisingly – I found that they were a bit off.  For one thing, the chords were more complicated than they needed to be for the average acoustic guitar player.  I speak from experience here.  Also, the lyrics were a few words off here and there.  So, I did what I love to do – I sat in front of the speakers, typed out the lyrics, replayed it to transcribe the chords and mark the changes in the proper places, and posted it all for your non-profit enjoyment.

My post will be somewhat abbreviated tonight, as I’m only minutes away from beginning an exciting evening of friends, fast food, and TNA wrestling fun.  Tonight is the first TNA Impact! scheduled for a regular weekly live Monday night slot.  This is big news for this show and is hopefully a sign of great, exciting things to come in the future.  Best of all, wrestling is an evening of entertainment and relaxation with one of my dearest friends and one of my favorite restaurant locales!

So, that’s it for tonight.  I hope you enjoy my take on this contemporary Cash song, and be sure to hurry back for more new acoustic cover song music videos to come – a Laptop Session tomorrow and a Guest Session on Friday.  Also, since I feel bad about cutting this short, you never know what I’ll whip up for your post-reading pleasure as the week goes on…

See you next session!

Music Review: John Mayer’s “Battle Studies” (2009)

RATING:  3 / 5 stars

By Chris Moore:

As John Mayer explained in a recent interview, his new studio album is an exploration of the more violent side of a romantic relationship – thus the “battle” – but within the parameters of an intelligent, reasonable analysis – thus the “studies.”

If this sounds deep and insightful, well, it is.

Kind of.

One of the key aspects that detracts from Mayer’s music is his intermittently pedestrian lyricism.  I qualify this as “intermittently” because he certainly has moments, here as on his previous albums, of witty, striking, or just simply strong, well-worded lyrics.  And yet, there are also those head-shaking, “isn’t this your fourth album” moments when he sings lines like “I love you more than songs can say,” “then you come crashing in like the realest thing,” and the general “half and half,” mathematical confusion of “Half of My Heart.”

The line between innocent yet intelligent sincerity and downright derivative drivel has always been the debate about John Mayer’s music – recall, for instance, the title of his second album, Heavier Things.  And I would have screamed if I had to hear one more person referencing Continuum by saying, “His blues work is so strong, I can finally take him seriously.”

Regardless of your opinion of Mayer’s intellectual and lyrical prowess, Battle Studies is a well put-together record that consistently demonstrates his awareness of the big picture.  The album opens with a fade in to “Heartbreak Warfare,” which clearly establishes the battle imagery and the war metaphor for a romantic relationship in distress.  The song provides just the right blend of symbolic description and more literal framing for the album to follow.

“All We Ever Do Is Say Goodbye” is a perfect representation of that moment before a breakup when the fighting has ceased and the inevitability of it all can be depressing, crushing.  It is, of course, soon followed by a rationalization of the situation – Mayer interestingly brought in country music star Taylor Swift to simplify things and play a catchy, if straightforward tune.

Then comes the breaking point.

“Who Says” set off some controversy when it was first released due to the repeated question, “Who says I can’t get stoned?”  This is yet another example of the general public being incapable of taking a line metaphorically.  This is hardly a “tokin’ song,” as one YouTube viewer suggested in his poor review of the single.  Mayer is clearly – and has said as much himself – using the marijuana reference to represent actions that you wouldn’t normally be able to take due to the expectations of others.  This is quite in line with other queries in the song such as, “Who says I can’t be free from all of the things that I used to be?”

Even the line “I don’t remember you looking any better, but then again, I don’t remember you” is questionable.  Some have written it off as glorifying a reunion after a drugged or drunken one night stand.  I hope that I do not offer too much credit to Mayer when I read this as an extension of the experimentation and freedom of this song – in other words, he doesn’t remember this person because he has never met them before.  Now that he is single again, he is free to “meet all the girls in the county line.”

This declaration of rebellion and/or independence is followed by “Perfectly Lonely,” a catchy ode to bachelorhood that highlights some of Mayer’s best guitar work.  Then comes “Assassin,” an even deeper dive into the territory of the “player/heartbreaker.”

John Mayer's "Battle Studies" (2009)

John Mayer's "Battle Studies" (2009)

The most difficult track for me to process has been his cover of “Crossroads.”  Yes, this is an old Robert Johnson song, but Mayer is really channeling Eric Clapton here.  That being said, Mayer’s “Crossroads” is hardly a faithful cover of the Cream track.  Instead, there are remnants of the guitar riff included in a song just begging to be DJ’ed into a dance mix.

I’m not sure how I feel about that.

Well, I actually am sure how I feel about that.  But what I do like about this track is its thematic relevance to the album.  The idea of being at a crossroads comes at the perfect time, halfway through the album.  The previous three tracks have celebrated “loneliness” of a sort, but this track reminds us that if we are all alone, we may go unrecognized when we try to “flag a ride.”

“War of My Life” is a perfect choice to follow this cover, as Mayer reverts to that classic sound he has come to be known for – and I should emphasize that “Assassin” and “Crossroads” really do have a sound that is all their own on this record.  As per usual, Mayer returns to his standby pensive lyrics and pouty crooning.

The final section of the album is where something is lost, some energy and presence that was stronger in the opening half.  This is precisely where my opinion of the album wavers.

That being said, these final three tracks complete the cycle of this album concept, providing narration from a man on the “Edge of Desire” ready to go back on what he believes in order to restore his relationship.  Then comes the re-assessment, pulling himself out of that moment of weakness with “Do You Know Me.”  Finally, Mayer closes up shop on this album with the anthemic “Friends, Lovers, or Nothing,” putting forth a learned truth of sorts.

All in all, Battle Studies accomplishes what it set out to – namely, to study a relationship at the end of its lifespan from the perspective of an individual maintaining his dignity, going back on what he has said, and ultimately enjoying and – more interestingly – appreciating his individuality and independence.

Mayer has called this album a sidestep, and Battle Studies sounds like it picks up from where Heavier Things left off.

And that is more than all right with me.

Foo Fighters’ “The Colour and the Shape” (1997) – The Weekend Review

By Chris Moore:

RATING: 5 / 5 stars

Once in a band’s career — if they are that lucky — songwriting and performance coalesce on an album in such a way as to inspire both thought and emotion. When that bolt of metaphorical lightning strikes, the result is a collection of songs that breathe like living entities, some tracks crying, some tracks screaming, some tracks shining beautifully. Somehow, through a mixture of careful, intentional strategy and fortunate, indescribable chance, those songs come across as sincere, relatable, and entertaining. Sometimes, they even connect in such a way as to create an interesting statement as a whole.

In the Foo Fighters catalog, The Colour and the Shape is that album.

In the interests of full disclosure, I should make it very clear that I am not a big Foo Fighters fan. Aside from a brief phase of hurriedly listening to all their other albums, I have neither before nor since found their work extraordinary. I do have a great respect for Dave Grohl’s concepts, such as his half-electric, half-acoustic In Your Honor. Until 2007’s Echoes, Silence, Patience, and Grace, however, I was unable to find an album that came close to the heights achieved on their 1997 sophomore effort.

Perhaps the greatest strength of The Colour and the Shape is the balance between pure electric energy and calmer, more soothing tones. This is no middle-of-the-road album; in fact, it has some of the loudest screaming — as well as some of the lightest tones and harmonies — of any album I have ever heard. To be sure, it is one of the very few albums that I have found such extremes on and still found it enjoyable. Too much on the soft side can be boring, and too much on the hard side can be, well, too much.

That is certainly one of Dave Grohl’s fortes — he is shredding his vocal chords in one breath and crooning at the next. Because I tend toward liking the latter more than the former, I always find it a sweet relief to hear some simple double tracking or harmonies following an all-out electric track.

Foo Fighters'

Foo Fighters'

The first time I heard the album, the opening track made me shake my head and double check that I had put the correct CD in the drive. “Doll” is a light, bittersweet song with slightly muted vocals that set the tone for the album. This is a collection of songs about a relationship that is falling apart for a number of reasons — the narrator is willing to admit his own shortcomings (“Doll me up in my bad luck…”), but he isn’t shy about calling the other person on hers.

“Monkey Wrench” and “Hey, Johnny Park!” add up to one of the best one-two punches in rock album history. Each song introduces one killer guitar riff layered upon another, stacked with energetic vocals, and boneheaded metaphors not withstanding, the lyrics are fun. Even though it felt a bit out of my range, I ran my vocal chords ragged back in June 2008 to commit a cover song version of “Hey, Johnny Park!” to video for the Laptop Sessions (CLICK HERE to have a listen!).

These are followed by two more songs that vacillate between power chord-fueled electric rage and Grohl’s calmer, clearer tones. It doesn’t get any more blunt than these lyrics (“This is a blackout; don’t let it go to waste. This is a blackout; I wanna detonate…”), but they work on these tracks.

“Up in Arms” borders on tender (and sad), but certainly isn’t lacking in the backbone department. Then, “My Hero” unfolds a tribute to the “ordinary” hero — fans have speculated that it’s an ode to Grohl’s former Nirvana bandmate Kurt Cobain, but Grohl himself says it’s directed at the average workingman.

I suppose it’s up to you to decide what you believe…

Then comes one of my favorites on the album, a song so unlike the others and yet so wonderfully intertwined thematically. “See You” lends more straightforward acoustic rock sensibilities than you’ll find anywhere else on the album, although they are hinted at in several other tracks.

The rest passes in a blur, starting with the anger and brevity of “Enough Space.” I found this track tough to swallow at first, but my tastes in music have progressed over the years, and I like this song very much now, if for no other reason than it is not what the album as a whole sounds like — Grohl and company seemed to take care to balance such elements.

Although the final four songs are each over four minutes, they pass quickly. “February Stars” boasts a Goo Goo Dolls sound on the outro, and frankly, Grohl does a better job making that sound interesting than John Rzeznik himself. “Everlong” is, of course, a classic. If you listen carefully to the lyrics, it is an emotional, brutal song, and you can almost hear it in the performance — Grohl, Nate Mendel, and Pat Smear must realize what a gem they are recording.

The final two songs work well as a pair, “Walking After You” representing the phase in a breakup where one party clings desperately to the remnants of the relationship even as the other is walking away and “New Way Home” embodying that deep breath and next step for the lonely one left behind. If you’ve been in this situation before and been heartbroken by someone who has lost interest in you, then you’ll appreciate the closing tracks on this album.

In closing, The Colour and the Shape is a standout effort from the Foo Fighters. It is not only the first (and only) album I would recommend to others — with the possible exception of Echoes, Silence, Patience, and Grace — but it is also one of the great rock albums of all time, in my opinion, an effort that is stronger as a whole than the individual tracks could ever be.

On a more emotional level, it is an album I continually find myself returning to when I’m contemplating relationship problems, and I would highly recommend it as one of the Weekend Review’s picks for albums to keep on hand for those aforementioned sad and/or angry moments!

CD Review: Jim Fusco’s “What About Today?” is a Songwriter’s Concept Album

RATING:  4 / 5 stars

By Chris Moore:

Many who listen to What About Today? may miss the apparent tip of the hat to Nashville Skyline—Bob Dylan’s 1969 album—that is implied on the cover.

This is perhaps not a necessary reference to understand anyway, as Jim Fusco’s progression as an artist is in an entirely different place now than Dylan’s was when he released his first country-rock album. No, Jim Fusco is redefining his own style with this album, moving ahead with increasing complexity and depth, while Dylan was attacked over three decades ago by critics and fans alike who were disappointed by the simplicity of his then-latest release of sappy, romantic songs.
The allusion on the cover may be an indication of Fusco’s personal predilection for songs of this nature. What About Today?, however, is certainly anything but a collection of disappointingly simple love songs.

THE ALBUM

This album has been related to the landmark Brian Wilson masterpiece SMiLE by Fusco himself in the liner notes contained in the enhanced CD section. The most obvious comparison between these two works is in their unified composition, each track blending seamlessly into the next. As Fusco described, the ending chord of every song on his album matches exactly to the initial chord of the subsequent song.

The truth is that this method works well and places What About Today? a notch up from most contemporary rock albums into that somewhat forgotten realm of the concept album. Fusco demonstrates that an album can be more than a random assortment of the newest songs from an artist. Moreover, he has transcended the realm of the strictly chronological concept album—consider his earlier album My Other Half (2002) which follows the progression and breakdown of a relationship.

The one element of this album that cannot be described as more complex than any of his previous ones is notably the vocals. In the past, Fusco relied on vocal harmonies and combinations to define his music, and indeed they have always set him apart in an exceptional way. Honestly, I initially wondered whether this should be considered a downfall, a failure of the new album. After all, he completed the album in such a brief time—three weeks—so could he have rushed past the vocals? Upon many subsequent listenings, I have arrived at the opposite conclusion.

The majority of the background vocals on this album are subtler and more understated than in his earlier work. Yet that is not to say that they are any less well-thought-out or vital to the songs they support. I do not think that the background vocals are as prominent on this album, but I believe the album would be at a profound loss without them. At the risk of seeming like every other critic who has ever written about a particular artist over an extended period of time, Fusco sounds mature on this album. He does not demonstrate a perceived need to impress the audience with his vocal feats. Rather, perhaps for the first time, he is focusing on the unique voice that is Jim Fusco. He is concentrating on his command of delivering his lyrics, singing them with authority. He is also showcasing his abilities and techniques as a lead electric guitarist—a defining sound on this album and a theme suggested by the presence of his shiny red, classically designed guitar on the back page of the CD booklet.
If one could hear the thinly-veiled songs about his girlfriend, his childhood heroes, and his dreams that comprise his 2003 releases and say, “That’s all Jim,” then perhaps one would hear this new album and inquire, “What about Jim?” Which parts are his personal stories and which parts are fictions? Why has his poetic style developed in quite this manner? These issues can be encapsulated in one issue: we knew what he meant when he sang “Mold Me” in 2003, but what is he talking about in 2005 when he sings, “…I molded to you…”?
It is indeed the time that makes this album feel right, the progression of Fusco as an artist—singer and musician alike—that has brought him to the conception and creation of this album.

“I think these are my best songs to date, without a doubt,” Fusco writes in his liner notes. What is more, this is his best album to date.

THE SONGS

It is the electric guitar in “Don’t Be That Way” that first distinguishes itself and kicks the album off with electricity. There is distortion, but it is not distracting or overbearing, as harder music can sometimes be. Yet this is a new sound for Jim Fusco—it is louder, more confident.

“Don’t Be That Way” is the perfect album starter. This song is not a cookie cutter single, nor is it too complex to present at the beginning of an album. It truly sets the tone for the songs to come. Musically, it demonstrates Fusco’s increasingly defined guitar style. Throughout the song, it is as though there is a solo bubbling just beneath the surface waiting to explode—as it does a minute and a half into the song.

And when it does, it has been well worth the wait.

Vocally, this is a prime example of subtle yet effective and even powerful backing vocals supporting the words and sound of the lead. As if to make his point, Fusco ends the song with an extended solo intertwined with a repetition of the chorus.

There is no time to pause and reflect upon this, of course, as the first track is immediately juxtaposed with the interlude. This brief instrumental is repeated throughout the album at various points, as if to remind the listener that the songs on this album exist as one complete entity, as well as individual pieces. The interlude is before the tracks and after them and everywhere within the confines of the album—a reminder of the continuity that is a central theme.

The first track begins with electric guitar, the interlude is marked by the keyboards, and the second track—“Can’t Count On Words”—completes the triangle by beginning with acoustic guitar. In the spirit of the symbolic weight that the acoustic guitar carries, this track has a message to be delivered. Fusco’s is not a message of civil rights or any other such cause; but rather, he is concerned with interpersonal communication.

“Can’t count on words to fill the space between,” he sings. This assertion may be based on the unpredictable nature of interpretation. For instance, “casting of willingness” may be a reference to extending one’s enthusiasm, as in a fishing metaphor, in order to catch a greater good. However, it could also refer to the molding (a theme of Fusco’s work in general) of one’s motivation, one’s personality.

The triangle becomes a square as the third track opens with a bass guitar riff. “Another Backwards Day” chronicles the experience of being awake when everyone else is “down”—whether he means that they are sleeping or depressed is anyone’s guess. A quiet, perhaps subliminal nod to Brian Wilson is apparent in the sentiment of this song’s final verse. He sings of having someone at his side “When day begins long into the night,” ala “Wouldn’t It Be Nice.” This is only a possible meaning, but a fitting one considering his affection for Wilson and his music.

Just when you thought it couldn’t continue, What About Today?’s compositional square becomes a pentagon. Just as track one begins with electric guitar, the interlude with keyboard, track two with acoustic guitar, and track three with bass, so does track four—although it begins with acoustic also—soon present itself as a very vocally harmonic song. His thought for this track is the passing desire to be less intellectual.

“Sometimes I wish I were dumb so I wouldn’t have to think,” he sings. He entertains the concept of hope being a lengthy word to someone and he considers keeping thoughts at bay, “lowering his field of vision.” Interestingly enough, he decides on the title “Sometimes” as a qualification for this desire to be stupid.

“Reason” provides a timely escape from lyrics and vocals and showcases the aforementioned rapidly developing guitar style—it’s not blues, it’s not quite anyone else; it’s Jim Fusco. He has truly taken his music to another level through his devotion to developing his guitar style, a style that brings this album together in a compelling manner.

“She Waits” is the hidden gem, carefully concealed between five tracks on one side and seven on the other. It begins with a tame keyboard that is innocent enough. The ante is upped with some of the more interesting lyrics of the album, words that draw the listener in. One must wonder where the tale of this mysterious “she” will lead. Of course, no one can know until the end that she will only continue to wait—the story we were waiting to hear and perhaps imagining the outcome of does not in fact exist. “She Waits” as a title is not only the beginning of the story, but the end as well.

The middle section is the most enticing aspect of this song. When Fusco sings, “Tell me what it’s like to live in fear so I don’t have to learn on my own,” one cannot be certain if he’s talking to the woman who has been waiting or if it is the woman herself breaking the silence by speaking up. This is also my favorite vocal section of the album, hands down. The buildup to “oh, oh!” is particularly wonderful. Finally, the solo displays some of the best distortion guitar on any Jim Fusco recording to date.

A few more lines and the song is gone, handing the torch to “Where Are We Now?,” a song that I co-wrote with Jim. As has been mentioned in the liner notes, we wrote this song with a simple “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” effect in mind. We used one too many chords to make it a complete match, but it’s still a jam-worthy tune. Once again, Jim’s guitar is highlighted and he’s given a chance to repeat and expand the solo he created and delivered on the same track on 2004’s Live In The Studio.

And who’s responsible for the awesome harmonica part?…

Another upbeat track follows—“Pack Your Love.” It’s the song that gets stuck in your head. It makes you wonder about lines such as “…hop the bell some more.” It is also the song that gives you the warm and fuzzies from lines like, “If we’re together, anywhere we go, we won’t be far away.” Jack Johnson would agree and might add, “It’s always better when we’re together.” Finally, it leaves you with that intriguing image in mind—one of packing one’s love and leaving to go…where?

Track nine is the harsher “Give and Take,” a song that is notable for one of my favorite images in the Fusco catalog. He sings, “I see the two of you painting signs, but I can’t see what they’re trying not to say!” This is an image of gossip, resentment, and carefully, hurtfully concealed intentions that wound the singer—“Why do they hide when I’ve done nothing to make them scared?”

The anger and energy of “Give and Take” is artfully blended into “What Left To Do?” The latter counteracts the former’s raw emotion with a thoughtful examination of where days go when they are over and how long feelings will remain in effect. The first two choruses leave one wondering whether the singer is hung up on someone or has hung up (as in during a phone call) on someone—a subtle, yet essential distinction. As the middle fades to the chorus, there can be no questioning the intentions of the singer to pursue the girl who has helped him to board his “last ride until the end.” (A note for those who have heard Fusco’s previous work: “Making up words we can’t define” is remarkably analogous to “We’ll make up words that only we know…”)

The keyboards fade and the acoustic guitar signals a transition from asking to telling. Where “What Left To Do?” repeatedly demonstrates uncertainty, “It’s You” suggests confidence with its assertions and certainties. He carefully ties this song back to “Can’t Count On Words” when he sings “…you’ll find it’s not the words that make the song…” This is an instance of the lyrical overlap that is less obvious than the musical congruities and physical blending of the songs. Anyone can edit songs to run together, but uniting their feeling and message is an accomplishment to be noted.

The next track, “Sideshow,” is an interesting exploration of a sideshow as an image. In some ways, Fusco is the burning fire that won’t stop, the “next big thing” that will cause the lines to grow for the show. He has collected his music, recorded it, and arranged it for this album—his sideshow of sorts.

Following another musical interlude, the final track is unleashed. This is a track that could have appeared anywhere else on the album—as the opener, the single, or whatever it needed to be. It is a great way to end this generally upbeat, musically and lyrically strong album. You can become immediately hooked on a song like this, with its crisp guitars and impressively executed vocals. Another alumnus of Live In The Studio, this song is reborn on What About Today? in a manner that demonstrates Fusco’s ability to redefine himself. Probably one of the best songs he’s ever written.

That these notes have barely scratched the surface of the content of Jim Fusco’s latest release should be defense enough for its excellent rating. All my biases aside, it is one of the best albums of the year and deserves to be heard.

7/2005