MixTape Review: Nan's Eclectic Favorites

As promised (and explained) in this post: Nan's Eclectic Favorites. Let's not waste time.

SIDE ONE
Swingtown
Steve Miller Band
Let Nan set you a scene, this opening track says: it's a friday night, and everyone is meeting at the bar (Jake's, maybe, or just Frank's, but certainly the name of a man) for that first hard-earned drink of the weekend. What does this song say, as you steer an old Dodge into the small gravel lot outside Leo's (or whatever)? Swingtown is like an outstretched arm, a familiar hand on your hip, an invitation to cut a little loose. Not too loose, of course, just Steve Miller Band loose: button down shirts tucked into wranglers, regardless of sex; we all drove here, but only half of us have to drive home, and the night's most important decision will be something like 'who do I want to have to ride back to the bar with in the morning to pick up my car?' This is just one of many possible scenarios, of course, but when you commit to Steve Miller Band as your opener, you leave people little room for the innocent types of conjecture.

Keep On Rockin' Me Baby
Steve Miller Band
A little indulgent, perhaps, to lead with two songs by the same band, not my way, no, but the mood here might actually be one of indulgence, in which case the mysterious Nan makes a strong 'form follows function' argument. Actually, indulgent is an excellent way to describe this song when taken on its own merits; Mr. Miller decides to lay all his cool on the table as he vocally slithers his way through this song, until all his charm wears away. This happens at about the 27 second mark for me, but your mileage may vary. Personally, I would've preferred this.

Fly Like An Eagle
Steve Miller Band
Ok, ok ok ok ok ok ok. I think maybe we've been approaching this wrong. Since it would be (extremely) difficult to create a less eclectic mix (short of it having just one SMB song repeated three times), I think we have to assume Nan is approaching this ironically. By that logic, wouldn't these be Nan's least favorite songs? Then again, why would you want all of those songs in one place? Anyway, I feel like I'm in on the joke now, and that really helped me enjoy Fly Like An Eagle, which is, in fact, a joke of a song; anytime the more culturally relevant version of a song is performed by Seal, everyone loses: culture, the song, Seal, Steve Miller, everyone. Good one, Nan. Good one.

Hot Legs
Rod Stewart
Rod Stewart is a feathery, beaky, man-bird, and he is repulsive. Those are the facts, as I see them, but because he sang so many songs to so many women, I think this might go under-reported. I briefly considered posting the lyrics to this song here, but we try to keep it clean on the Clinch, and the lyrics to Hot Legs are both insipid and disgusting. This is a terrible song, one of the worst, and here is what is says to me, via Nan: do you remember those innocent moments, back when this tape was new to you? Before you knew how much Nan hated you? Remember Swingtown? Those were better days, all wine and roses, and beer and skittles, and peanut butter and toast. Now look at you: a shivering wreck as Hot Legs fades out, terror clutching at your heart and throat, terror at the very real possibility that this next song will also feature the Rod and the Stewart. There is a moment of silence, the soft hiss of the cassette winding the seconds away. And then?

Maggie May
Rod Stewart
I'm skipping it, just like Nan did, laughing all the while.

We're Having a Party
Rod Stewart
Go ahead, click that version. Painful, right? It seems like such a terrible song, just a stupid, lifeless, clumsy thing. It's like a refrigerator box, really, except that a fort made out of it would suck. And just try, I mean it, to watch those preening idiots on stage without getting angry. Now, listen to this version, and feel the pain melt away a little bit. This is a Sam Cooke song, and when you hear him sing it, you know it. It's charming, and innocent, almost naive in its joy. Do I seem over-effusive? The song is the same, I know, but one of these people uses their voice to create a believable, enjoyable little story, and one of them doesn't, and though I'm doing an awful job of explaining why, the proof is in the pudding. Also, I'm really sick of Rod Stewart. I'm not listening ahead at all, or reading a playlist, so my pain is yours right now if this next track is more of the same.

Wishing Well
Terence Trent D'arby
If anyone ever asks you about why 1987 was a garbage year, you can tell them that a man with the stage name (that means he chose it, on purpose) Terence Trent D'Arby released an album titled "Introducing the Hardline According to Terence Trent D'Arby", and then won a Grammy Award. You can also use this reason if anyone ever asks you why the Grammy Awards are garbage. To top it all off, he also declared that this album of his, this Hard Line album, was better than Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. I'm certainly no fawning Beatles fan, but it's difficult to imagine a more ridiculous assertion. Even discussing it is laughable, but I can't help but make this point: listen to this song, or this song: there's a shine to these songs that time doesn't rub away overmuch, no matter how whimsical and light the subject matter may seem. You can hear the influence in so much contemporary music. I submit to you this quote, by the (no doubt horrified) Ezra Pound, who was almost certainly talking about books: a classic is a classic because of "a certain eternal and irrepressible freshness." I sincerely doubt that anyone finds this quality in the works of Mr. fake D'arby, but I know a lot of people who find it in those Beatles songs. I know that's a pretty fallible argument, but it's appealing nonetheless. If you think I'm wrong about this song, listen to it again. If you still disagree, you should be in jail.

Dance Little Sister
Terence Trent D'arby
Garbage with cheese in. Yuck.

Stir It Up
Bob Marley
I actually rather like this song, and the fact that it's on this mix makes me a little sad. We've got to shift gears again here, I'm afraid, and lend Nan the benefit of the doubt. Nan, and everyone Nan knows, was no doubt drunk and loud throughout the first section of this tape, living their weekend freedom up, and so the contents weren't as important early on, and maybe, just maybe, Nan was setting this moment up, after a few drinks and the initial fervor of the evening, as either the soft, seductive part of an friday night, to which this song is certainly suited, or to the hushed introspective part of a friday night, to which this song could also serve. I haven't lived so little as to imply that a friday night couldn't include both of these types of moments within the span of three and a half minutes, either, so there's certainly the possibility, too, that Nan just wanted to be prepared. Best of luck in your endeavors, Nan.

Son of a Preacher Man
Dusty Springfield
Another tidy little song, and a pretty good version, too. I know, I know, Aretha recorded one too, but the story goes that she passed on this one the first time around, so the writers handed it to Springfield. I actually prefer the Dusty version, because I think her delivery matches the lyrics better; she exhibits, if I might borrow a phrase from Douglas Adams, "the kind of self-possessed shyness which is a great trick if you can do it." Nan has probably slipped into the darker parts of the bar by this point, probably during that Marley number, and is being coy with someone. This is a good song to be coy to, of course, so her night is going exactly according to plan. I mean, we imagine it is, based on a mixtape we found at a thrift store.

SIDE TWO

I Feel The Earth Move
Carole King
Ah, Carol King. Your hair may have been silly, sometimes, but you wrote some fantastic songs. This one, with its thumpy, driven beat and suggestive lyrics, is the perfect song to imply that this, if it has turned into that kind of evening, is where the unmentionable bits go. We'll meet up with Nan later, or possibly tomorrow.

Beautiful
Carole King
I'm impressed a little by the serendipity of this track selection. It is morning now, in the world of Nan's Eclectic Favorites, and we are back in Nan's car, all by her (and our?) lonesome, and this song says all the things that don't need saying on a saturday morning after a long friday evening, and it says them perfectly. It's a little wistful, it's smiling and a little sad, even (especially) if you don't know why, and you take that moment in, the late morning on a disheveled saturday while you drive in the thin sunlight of autumn, and then it passes, and you go buy the dog's food, and pick up cream for the coffee, and maybe drop some things in the mail.

Natural Woman
Carole King
Then again, maybe it doesn't quite pass. Maybe you get home, and the house is mostly empty, and the evening seems a little empty, and you're possessed to put this song on. This type of afternoon can be the absolute worst thing about living alone, all heaviness and reduction, giving rise to a sense of purposelessness that can be near-impossible to shake. Maybe this song isn't that kind of song, though it seems it to me; there aren't many songs I feel wholly unqualified to analyze for sentiment and emotional plausibility, but this is one of them. I know the lyrics are a little more uplifting than the picture I'm painting, but the music, even in the chorus, has always struck me as a little sad, and lined with a bit of that heaviness I mentioned before. As a sidenote, I've been carefully neutral with Nan's gender, but this seems like a bit of a roadblock to that. On the other hand, you just never know, so I'll continue to be careful, I suppose.

Johnny Come Home
Fine Young Cannibals
Does anyone else want to compile a list of all the songs featuring Johnny? I would love to see this list. Get to work, internet. The late afternoon/evening bit for Nan, and things seem to be picking up. I predict a return to the vapid party anthems of Side One, very soon. Not that I've got anything against party anthems, mind you, just these ones.

Baby, Now That I've Found You
Alison Krauss
Well, off by a mile there. First of all, you can probably guess that I much prefer The Foundations version, and not just because it features my favorite type of instrumentation (small horn section, hand claps, exuberant harmonizing...I guess I only like soul music?). Ignore that, and instead focus on the mix: this song may seem an odd fit after that last one, or more specifically, it might make that revved-up Fine Young Cannibals song seem like an odd fit, but maybe only musically, because they all three have this open and unabashed yearning to them that won't be put aside, and perhaps that's the unifying theme here on side two. I like themes, so I'm willing to continue to ignore my preferences for now.

Something To Talk About
Bonnie Raitt
More yearning, here, so that seems to hold up. Personally, I can't hear this song without thinking about this movie, and radiation poisoning.

Blue
Leann Rimes
Oy vey, enough with the yearning, Nan. We get it, you ache, yes, but misery loves company, even if that means more Steve Miller Band. I'm not editing this, so if the tape ends on a down note, you'll make fools of us both, Nan, and no one wants that. Incidentally, this song was apparently written for Patsy Cline, but she wasn't having it. Bit of a theme going there, too: covers and rejects, this mix could be called.

Ave Maria
Aaron Neville
Huh? What? I guess we've been wrong all along, as this has now become a story about the Christian powers of redemption. Give Nan a little credit: you never, ever saw this coming. The song appears like a strange (and peculiarly warbly) message from above, shocking you free from the small trials of daily life, and/or, confusing the whatsit right out of you. True story: I saw the Brothers Neville in concert, once, opening for this man. This song actually sounds sillier without Linda Ronstadt, if you can believe that.

Butterfly Kisses
Bob Carlisle
This is the last song. It's the last song. I can't believe you're still here.
Okay, so I don't have the time or ambition to go back to the top and re-contextualize all of this for you, so you're going to have to do what I do, and pay it forward: the next time someone complains to you about something, or recommends something to you, or even eats lunch near you, you have my permission to label these things a function of that person's "Daddy Issues." Go ahead, it'll be fun. Oh, and If you ever see Nan, you have my permission to kick him or her in the shin.