Track of the Week: Les McCann & Eddie Harris, "Compared to What"

In our world of digital music it is easy to think that it's so much easier to be exposed to music now than in the bad old days when you had to go out and buy CDs, tapes, and records if you wanted to listen to your favorite songs.  Digitization has certainly helped me explore genres that I had barely known before and to better find new music that I like.

That being said, the old days offered their own opportunities for discovery that no longer exist today.  Movie soundtracks have helped me find lots of great music.  For instance, my ears had never been graced by the Velvet Underground until I bought the soundtrack to The Doors, and heard "Heroin."  I was never the same.  Another great discovery came via the soundtrack to Martin Scorsese's Casino.  I liked the movie, but also thought that the soundtrack was superb, an interesting mix of jazz, blues, rock, vocal pop, and even classical.

There was one song that I'd only heard a snippet from in the film that really intrigued me, but not having access to Shazam and this coming in the early, undeveloped days of the internet, I had no way of knowing what it was called.  Once I bought the soundtrack, I discovered that the song was "Compared to What" by Les McCann and Eddie Harris.  I was thrilled by the relentlessly driving piano, fiery political lyrics, and the pairing of soul singing with killer jazz playing.  (The original recording, by Roberta Flack, is good, but not nearly as intense.)  "Compared to What" quickly become my favorite song on the soundtrack, one filled with gems like Roxy Music's "Love Is the Drug."  Recorded in 1969, "Compared to What" came out at a time when soul and rock acts were increasingly bringing in jazz influences.  (Think especially Jimi Hendrix at this time, the Allman Brothers Band, and the soon to come Steely Dan.)  In many respects this meant greater musical complexity and virtuosity, which is perhaps why "jazz fusion" is a dirty word for many rock critics, who tend to fetishize feeling and spirit over ability.  As much as I love punk rock's noise and the subtle rhythms of classic R&B, the older I get the more I appreciate jazz's pure musicianship, a great slice of which I discovered almost by accident.

Track of the Week: Miles Davis "Blue Xmas (To Whom It May Concern)"

When the holiday season began, I was in a fantastic mood.  I really got into the spirit, started listening to my favorite non-shitty Christmas music (trust me, it actually exists) and sipping egg nog at the end of the day.  Now, as the day approaches, I am burnt out on Christmas.  I certainly enjoyed shopping for gifts after work today, but the public discourse around the holiday is wearing me down.  I am just sick and tired of the idiotic "War on Christmas" bullshit, which seems to be a ploy for middle-class white Christians to think of themselves as victims.

Year after year I get depressed when I hear someone say "Merry Christmas!" as a weapon or political statement.  (The way it's practically spat out of the mouths of certain Fox News viewers is a dead giveaway.)  There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that so effectively drains the joy out of the season than that.  Ironically, it is the supposed defenders of Christmas like Bill O'Reilly, who have killed its spirit deader than any Scrooge or Grinch could have hoped for.

It is with that knowledge that I recommend that you listen to "Blue Xmas (To Whom It May Concern)."  It's an odd track, because Miles Davis is the last guy you'd expect to cut a Christmas song, and it has a vocal over it by Bob Dorough to boot.  The words pretty baldly criticize the consumerism, cynicism, "bad taste" and increased hassles that come with the Christmas season.  At its base, it laments the joylessness of what's supposed to be a joyful season, which is all too appropriate living in a time when the same people who get apoplectic over someone daring to wish them a "happy holidays" are more than happy to cut off unemployment benefits right after Christmas.  At least when I listen to this song I can get an antidote to all the hypocrisy, with some tasty jazz licks to go with it.