What easier way to compose a blog post than to lift it, in its entirety, from another author?
I haven't blogged in three months and this is what I offer? One could only come to the conclusion that I'm as lazy as I feared, but there you are.
So here is a portion of Bill Bryson's book, I'm a Stranger Here Myself: Notes on returning to America After 20 Years Abroad. Personally transcribed from my audiobook. All rights reserved and that stuff.
Bryson has become my favorite author, and hearing him read his own words is even better. This portion of the book recounts a commencement speech he gave.
"I have a son who is about your age, who in fact will be graduating from Hanover High School in a couple of weeks. When I told him, rather proudly, that I had been asked to give the commencement address here today, he looked at me, with that special, incredulous expression young people are so good at and said, “You? Dad, you don’t even know how to turn off the back windshield wiper on the car.”
And it’s a fair point. I don’t know how to turn off the back wiper on our car. And I probably never will. There are lots of things I don’t know. I’m kind of an idiot, and there is no sense denying it.
Nonetheless, I have done one thing that neither my son, nor any of you graduating seniors have yet done. I have survived 28 years after high school. And, like anyone who has reached my time of life, I have learned a thing or two.
I’ve learned that if you touch a surface to see if it’s hot, it will be. I’ve learned that the best way to determine if a pen will leak is to stick it in the pocket of your best pants. I’ve learned that it is seldom a good idea to take clothing off over your head while riding a bicycle. And I have learned that nearly all small animals want to bite me and always will.
I have learned all these things through a long process of trial and error, and so I feel I have acquired a kind of wisdom. The kind that comes from doing foolish things over and over again until it hurts so much you stop. It’s not, perhaps, the most efficient way of acquiring knowledge, but it works, and it does, at least, give you some interesting scars to show at parties.
Now, all of this is a somewhat hesitant way of coming round to my main point, which is that I am required by long tradition to give you some advice that will inspire you to go out and lead wholesome and productive lives, which I assume you were intending to do anyway. I am very honored to have that opportunity.
With that in mind, I would like to offer 10 very small, simple observations; passing thoughts, really, which I hope will be of some use to you in the years ahead.
In no particular order, they are:
1. Take a moment from time to time to remember that you are alive. I know this sounds a trifle obvious, but it is amazing how little time we take to remark upon this singular and gratifying fact. By the most astounding stroke of luck, an infinitesimal portion of all the matter in the universe came together to create you. And for the tiniest moment in the great span of eternity, you have the incomparable privilege to exist. For endless eons, there was no you. Before you know it, you will cease to be again. And in between, you have this wonderful opportunity to see and feel and think and do. Whatever else you do with your life, nothing will remotely compare with the incredible accomplishment of having managed to get yourself born. Congratulations. Well done. You really are special.
2. But not that special. There are 5 billion other people on this planet, every one of them just as important, just as central to the great scheme of things as you are. Don’t ever make the horrible, unworthy mistake of thinking yourself more vital and significant than anyone else. Nearly all the people you encounter in life merit your consideration. Many of them will be there to help you. To deliver your pizza, bag your groceries, clean up the motel room you’ve made such a lavish mess of. If you are not in the habit of being extremely nice to these people, then get in the habit now. Millions more people, most of whom you will never meet or even see, won’t help you. Indeed, can’t help you; may not even be able to help themselves. They deserve your compassion. We live in a sadly heartless age, when we seem to have less and less space in our consciences and our pocketbooks for the poor and lame and dispossessed. Particularly those in far off lands. I am making it your assignment to do something about it.
3. Don’t ever do anything for principle alone. If you haven’t got a better reason for doing something other than the principle of the thing, then don’t do it.
4. Whatever it is you want to do in life, do it. If you aspire to be a celebrated ballerina, or an Olympic swimmer, or to sing at Carnegie Hall, go for it. Even though everyone is tactfully pointing out that you can’t sing a note or that no one has ever won the 100-meter dash with a personal best time of 74 seconds, do it anyway. There’s nothing worse than getting to my age and saying, “I could have played second base for the Boston Red Sox, but my dad wanted me to study law.” Tell your dad to study law. You go and climb Everest.
5. Don’t ever make the extremely foolish mistake of thinking that winning is everything. If there’s one person I would really like to smack, it is the person who said, “winning is not the main thing, it’s the only thing.” That’s awful. Taking part is the main thing. Doing your best is the main thing. There is no shame in not winning. There is a shame in not trying, which is, of course, another matter altogether. Above all, be gracious in defeat. Believe me, you’ll get plenty of chances to put this into practice, so you might as well start working on it now.
6. Don’t cheat. It’s not worth it. Don’t cheat on tests, don’t cheat on your taxes, don’t cheat on your partner, don’t cheat at Monopoly. Don’t cheat at anything. It is often said that cheaters never prosper. In my experience, cheaters generally do prosper. But they also nearly always get caught in the end. Cheating is simply not worth it. It’s as simple as that.
7. Strive to be modest. It is much more becoming, believe me. People are always more impressed if they find out independently that you won the Nobel Prize than if you wear it around your neck on a ribbon.
8. Always buy my books, in hardback, as soon as they come out.
9. Be happy. It’s not that hard. You have a million things to be happy about. You are bright, and young, and enormously good looking. I can see that from here. You have your whole life ahead of you. But here’s the thing to remember: you will always have your whole life ahead of you. That never stops, and you shouldn’t forget it.
Finally, and if you remember nothing else that is said here today, remember this: if you are ever called upon to speak in public, keep you remarks brief.
Thank you very much.
And a bonus point to listeners; if you write for a living, never hesitate to recycle material."
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
Ease my Worried Mind
Why the ending to “Layla” is the most beautiful and interesting 3:52 ever put on tape
It’s just like me to recognize the virtues of something decades old, and something that’s garnered more or less universal acclaim from all who have experienced it. I’m never the first on my block to fall in love with a song, or a movie or a website.
(“Text messaging? How does that work?”)
More typically, I’ll not even start getting fascinated with something until long after it’s entirely run its course with most of my peers. They’ll go through the entire curve of interest, starting with a sense of light intrigue, peaking with fascination and ending with weariness. It’s about that time that I’ll ask them, “hey, have you ever seen that show The Sopranos?”
So it has been recently with the Derek and the Dominos song “Layla,” which has been intriguing, and then fascinating, and then dull to people for 38 years.
Of late, I’ve blown right by intrigue and gone straight into fascination. Not with the entire song, mind you, though much effusive praise has been heaped on the song. No, the object of my affection is the last 3 minutes and 52 seconds of the song, the anomalous and extraordinary second movement of the song commonly referred to as the piano coda.
More typically, I’ll not even start getting fascinated with something until long after it’s entirely run its course with most of my peers. They’ll go through the entire curve of interest, starting with a sense of light intrigue, peaking with fascination and ending with weariness. It’s about that time that I’ll ask them, “hey, have you ever seen that show The Sopranos?”
So it has been recently with the Derek and the Dominos song “Layla,” which has been intriguing, and then fascinating, and then dull to people for 38 years.
Of late, I’ve blown right by intrigue and gone straight into fascination. Not with the entire song, mind you, though much effusive praise has been heaped on the song. No, the object of my affection is the last 3 minutes and 52 seconds of the song, the anomalous and extraordinary second movement of the song commonly referred to as the piano coda.
BACKSTORY 
If you’re as woefully unaware of the all-time most celebrated bits of pop culture as I am, allow me to circle back.
Eric Clapton had already been a guitar legend – even “God,” if you believed popular British graffiti – before he began Derek and the Dominos. He’d already turned out hits with The Yardbirds and Cream and been in other bands such as The Bluesbreakers, Blind Faith and Delaney and Bonnie and Friends.
By the time Derek and the Dominos began, all of the members were immersed in a troublesome fog of drugs and alcohol. As the band recorded Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs in Miami, the members simply strolled down to the street outside of the studio to place their drug orders with the girl at the newsstand. All of the band members (Clapton, guitars and vocals; Duane Allman, guitars; Bobby Whitlock, keyboards and vocals; Carl Radle, bass; Jim Gordon, drums) had a soft spot for heroin, while Clapton had such a special affinity for cocaine that, well, he later sang a song about it that reached #3 on the charts.
Amid these drug-fueled sessions, no one is really even sure where the name “Derek and the Dominos” comes from, although it has been suggested that the name is a profoundly impaired band member’s mispronunciation of “Eric and the Dynamos.”
There was one drug, though, of which Clapton just couldn’t get enough. Her name was Pattie Boyd, and she was married to Clapton’s best friend.
Pattie was a former model in her mid-20s by the 1970s, and she was married to George Harrison, world-famous guitarist for the then-dissolving Beatles. Clapton fell so madly in love with Boyd that, since he couldn’t have her, he moved in with her 17-year-old sister Paula instead.
They lived together for two years, until Paula heard Layla. The song was a pained tale of unrequited lust, and Clapton had written it about her sister.
In any case, breathless reviewers will tell you that the first two minutes of Layla is a raw, emotional, perfect song of yearning for an unattainable, or at least unattained, love.
Very interesting. But the truth is, it doesn’t speak to me all that much. Though I reserve the right to get excited about the song in another, say, 20 years.
No, the part that stirs my interest is what’s referred to as the piano coda, the stirring and emotional finish to the song. Music critics will tell you that the coda’s loveliness bespeaks a blissful resolution to the yearning of the song’s first part. That the yearning is resolved musically, not lyrically.
Whatever.
First of all, Clapton merely decided to tack the coda on to the end because he liked it, nothing more. Gordon had been working on the melody for a side project, and Clapton liked it so much that he persuaded the drummer to let the band use it as part of Layla. Secondly, music means to each of us whatever we think it means, and not even the artist is allowed to interpret his own work.
MOVEMENT
Even though I spent many years playing musical instruments and became the drum major of my high school band, I had no intensive training on music. So I am far out of my depth when talking about music theory. But I think it’s interesting to note that the coda was originally played and recorded in the key of C major, which is to say that it’s played in the most common key, the one that uses all of the white keys on the piano and none of the black ones. But the tape is sped up, so the result is an odd key, somewhere between C major and C# major. The notes are microtonal, which is to say that they are somewhere between the notes of typical Western music. Perhaps this provides a slight brightening effect, and it certainly makes the piano sound unique, though it's difficult for most people to put their fingers on why.
From wailing slide guitars emerges a bright and lusty melody, sentimental and sad but sweet and satisfying.
It doesn’t sound blissful and wistful to me, it sounds deeply introspective. It speaks plaintively, not excitedly. Each musical phrase ends with a down note, helping the “voice” of the piano to sound reassuring rather than exciting.
Therefore, I picture the entirety of the coda as a powerfully sentimental transition. It’s confident about the future but it does great justice to the past. For the first few seconds of the coda, the piano plays alone. Picture it as your own internal song, played to yourself. Then picture Duane Allman’s first upward slide on the guitar as an airplane taking off, carrying you from one life situation to another. The rest of the coda represents your fond remembrances mixed with your hopes for the future. After everything, you wouldn’t change a thing.
The second time around, the rest of the band joins the chorus. It’s the reassuring voices of your past joining in on your internal song. After a while, the acoustic guitar takes the foreground and the piano plays the same notes but more quietly. I picture the piano “agreeing” with the guitar.
After some time, the guitars take over almost completely, with uplifting slides on the slide guitar. The coda ends with Allman’s slide guitar making the faint sound that mimics a chirping bird. It’s positively hopeful.
The overall effect, for me, is one of profound transition. Time passes. Circumstances change.
Martin Scorsese seemed to bring forth this aspect of the coda in the classic movie Goodfellas, in one of the great musical transitions in cinematic history. He uses the music to close one chapter of the movie and open another. It covers a particularly gruesome section of the movie, where gangsters are turning up dead all over the city. And it does so, well, positively wistfully.
THE SONG’S OWN CODA
In similar fashion to Scorsese’s transition through gruesome events, one could picture a cinematic scene with the sublime piano coda playing over the disagreeable events that have befallen the members of Derek and the Dominos in the last 38 years.
Clapton did eventually gain the affections of Pattie Boyd, and he eventually won her directly away from George Harrison. The two married in 1979.
Maybe his lust was better left unrequited.
Clapton’s drug addiction worsened. Boyd was never able to bear a child, despite attempts at in vitro fertilization. So instead, Clapton had constant affairs and two illegitimate children, one of whom fell from the window of a 53rd-floor apartment and died. Clapton and Boyd divorced in 1989.
Allman died in 1971 at age 24 in a motorcycle accident that crushed several internal organs.
Carl Radle died in 1980 of a kidney infection, the result of a life spent imbibing alcohol and narcotics.
And what of Jim Gordon, the onetime session musician who wrote the sublime piano part? It seems that in the late 1970’s, he began hearing his mother’s voice in his head.
Who hasn’t heard his mother’s voice in his head from time to time, exhorting him to do well in moments of mischief? The difference for Gordon, though, is his reaction to the voice.
In 1983, he unveiled his final solution to the vivid voices. He murdered his mother with a claw hammer and a butcher knife.
Gordon had been misdiagnosed by doctors, who had thought that the voices were a result of alcoholism and drug addiction. It was, in fact, acute schizophrenia. His lawyer was not able to convince a jury of this disorder, though, and Gordon was sentenced to 16 years to life in prison. He was later transferred to a men’s mental health facility, where he is, presumably, to spend the rest of his life. Though if he is ever released, one of the fattest royalty checks of all time will be waiting for him.
SOMETHING IN THE WAY SHE MOVES?
What was I talking about again?
Ah yes, the beautiful piano coda.
It’s amazing how much spectacular music Pattie Boyd inspired. She was the inspiration for the Beatles’ “Something,” which Frank Sinatra called the best love song in 50 years. She also inspired Harrison's “What is Life,” one of his best solo efforts. From Clapton, she brought forth the entire Layla album, plus “Bell Bottom Blues” and the extraordinary “Wonderful Tonight.”
Boyd also introduced the Beatles to Eastern mysticism and was present when they first experimented with LSD. Who knows how much music all of that inspired? For better or worse, Boyd seems like the modern definition of a muse.
If you’re as woefully unaware of the all-time most celebrated bits of pop culture as I am, allow me to circle back.
Eric Clapton had already been a guitar legend – even “God,” if you believed popular British graffiti – before he began Derek and the Dominos. He’d already turned out hits with The Yardbirds and Cream and been in other bands such as The Bluesbreakers, Blind Faith and Delaney and Bonnie and Friends.
By the time Derek and the Dominos began, all of the members were immersed in a troublesome fog of drugs and alcohol. As the band recorded Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs in Miami, the members simply strolled down to the street outside of the studio to place their drug orders with the girl at the newsstand. All of the band members (Clapton, guitars and vocals; Duane Allman, guitars; Bobby Whitlock, keyboards and vocals; Carl Radle, bass; Jim Gordon, drums) had a soft spot for heroin, while Clapton had such a special affinity for cocaine that, well, he later sang a song about it that reached #3 on the charts.
Amid these drug-fueled sessions, no one is really even sure where the name “Derek and the Dominos” comes from, although it has been suggested that the name is a profoundly impaired band member’s mispronunciation of “Eric and the Dynamos.”
There was one drug, though, of which Clapton just couldn’t get enough. Her name was Pattie Boyd, and she was married to Clapton’s best friend.
Pattie was a former model in her mid-20s by the 1970s, and she was married to George Harrison, world-famous guitarist for the then-dissolving Beatles. Clapton fell so madly in love with Boyd that, since he couldn’t have her, he moved in with her 17-year-old sister Paula instead.
They lived together for two years, until Paula heard Layla. The song was a pained tale of unrequited lust, and Clapton had written it about her sister.
In any case, breathless reviewers will tell you that the first two minutes of Layla is a raw, emotional, perfect song of yearning for an unattainable, or at least unattained, love.
Very interesting. But the truth is, it doesn’t speak to me all that much. Though I reserve the right to get excited about the song in another, say, 20 years.
No, the part that stirs my interest is what’s referred to as the piano coda, the stirring and emotional finish to the song. Music critics will tell you that the coda’s loveliness bespeaks a blissful resolution to the yearning of the song’s first part. That the yearning is resolved musically, not lyrically.
Whatever.
First of all, Clapton merely decided to tack the coda on to the end because he liked it, nothing more. Gordon had been working on the melody for a side project, and Clapton liked it so much that he persuaded the drummer to let the band use it as part of Layla. Secondly, music means to each of us whatever we think it means, and not even the artist is allowed to interpret his own work.
MOVEMENT
Even though I spent many years playing musical instruments and became the drum major of my high school band, I had no intensive training on music. So I am far out of my depth when talking about music theory. But I think it’s interesting to note that the coda was originally played and recorded in the key of C major, which is to say that it’s played in the most common key, the one that uses all of the white keys on the piano and none of the black ones. But the tape is sped up, so the result is an odd key, somewhere between C major and C# major. The notes are microtonal, which is to say that they are somewhere between the notes of typical Western music. Perhaps this provides a slight brightening effect, and it certainly makes the piano sound unique, though it's difficult for most people to put their fingers on why.
From wailing slide guitars emerges a bright and lusty melody, sentimental and sad but sweet and satisfying.
It doesn’t sound blissful and wistful to me, it sounds deeply introspective. It speaks plaintively, not excitedly. Each musical phrase ends with a down note, helping the “voice” of the piano to sound reassuring rather than exciting.
Therefore, I picture the entirety of the coda as a powerfully sentimental transition. It’s confident about the future but it does great justice to the past. For the first few seconds of the coda, the piano plays alone. Picture it as your own internal song, played to yourself. Then picture Duane Allman’s first upward slide on the guitar as an airplane taking off, carrying you from one life situation to another. The rest of the coda represents your fond remembrances mixed with your hopes for the future. After everything, you wouldn’t change a thing.
The second time around, the rest of the band joins the chorus. It’s the reassuring voices of your past joining in on your internal song. After a while, the acoustic guitar takes the foreground and the piano plays the same notes but more quietly. I picture the piano “agreeing” with the guitar.
After some time, the guitars take over almost completely, with uplifting slides on the slide guitar. The coda ends with Allman’s slide guitar making the faint sound that mimics a chirping bird. It’s positively hopeful.
The overall effect, for me, is one of profound transition. Time passes. Circumstances change.
Martin Scorsese seemed to bring forth this aspect of the coda in the classic movie Goodfellas, in one of the great musical transitions in cinematic history. He uses the music to close one chapter of the movie and open another. It covers a particularly gruesome section of the movie, where gangsters are turning up dead all over the city. And it does so, well, positively wistfully.
THE SONG’S OWN CODA
In similar fashion to Scorsese’s transition through gruesome events, one could picture a cinematic scene with the sublime piano coda playing over the disagreeable events that have befallen the members of Derek and the Dominos in the last 38 years.
Clapton did eventually gain the affections of Pattie Boyd, and he eventually won her directly away from George Harrison. The two married in 1979.
Maybe his lust was better left unrequited.
Clapton’s drug addiction worsened. Boyd was never able to bear a child, despite attempts at in vitro fertilization. So instead, Clapton had constant affairs and two illegitimate children, one of whom fell from the window of a 53rd-floor apartment and died. Clapton and Boyd divorced in 1989.
Allman died in 1971 at age 24 in a motorcycle accident that crushed several internal organs.
Carl Radle died in 1980 of a kidney infection, the result of a life spent imbibing alcohol and narcotics.
And what of Jim Gordon, the onetime session musician who wrote the sublime piano part? It seems that in the late 1970’s, he began hearing his mother’s voice in his head.
Who hasn’t heard his mother’s voice in his head from time to time, exhorting him to do well in moments of mischief? The difference for Gordon, though, is his reaction to the voice.
In 1983, he unveiled his final solution to the vivid voices. He murdered his mother with a claw hammer and a butcher knife.
Gordon had been misdiagnosed by doctors, who had thought that the voices were a result of alcoholism and drug addiction. It was, in fact, acute schizophrenia. His lawyer was not able to convince a jury of this disorder, though, and Gordon was sentenced to 16 years to life in prison. He was later transferred to a men’s mental health facility, where he is, presumably, to spend the rest of his life. Though if he is ever released, one of the fattest royalty checks of all time will be waiting for him.
SOMETHING IN THE WAY SHE MOVES?
What was I talking about again?
Ah yes, the beautiful piano coda.
It’s amazing how much spectacular music Pattie Boyd inspired. She was the inspiration for the Beatles’ “Something,” which Frank Sinatra called the best love song in 50 years. She also inspired Harrison's “What is Life,” one of his best solo efforts. From Clapton, she brought forth the entire Layla album, plus “Bell Bottom Blues” and the extraordinary “Wonderful Tonight.”
Boyd also introduced the Beatles to Eastern mysticism and was present when they first experimented with LSD. Who knows how much music all of that inspired? For better or worse, Boyd seems like the modern definition of a muse.
ONWARD
All of this, of course, has absolutely nothing to do with the wonderful piano coda.
Clapton himself has said that he feels like Layla came from a different lifetime, but he still loves it and says that “it’s extraordinary to have possession of something so powerful.”
I’m not sure about any of that. All I know is what the coda means to me and how it makes me feel. Even though I’m sure I’ve got it all wrong and I’m 38 years late.
I reserve the right, in the future, to discover some other beautiful old thing and get the meaning dead wrong. I have no doubt it will happen soon. Maybe next week I’ll extol the virtues of disco music or the Star Wars trilogy. But for now, leave me alone for 3 minutes and 52 seconds.
All of this, of course, has absolutely nothing to do with the wonderful piano coda.
Clapton himself has said that he feels like Layla came from a different lifetime, but he still loves it and says that “it’s extraordinary to have possession of something so powerful.”
I’m not sure about any of that. All I know is what the coda means to me and how it makes me feel. Even though I’m sure I’ve got it all wrong and I’m 38 years late.
I reserve the right, in the future, to discover some other beautiful old thing and get the meaning dead wrong. I have no doubt it will happen soon. Maybe next week I’ll extol the virtues of disco music or the Star Wars trilogy. But for now, leave me alone for 3 minutes and 52 seconds.
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