Kyrie Eleison

Even more obscure than poor Dory Previn, a beloved singer-songwriter from the 1970s has been calling out to me recently. Dead for nearly three decades now, Judee Sill is an ultimate test for pop snobs and freaks. On one level she's the most annoyingly sweet voiced, long-haired hippie chick that makes Joni Mitchell look like someone as crass and shallow as that Madonna creature or Cher. But she was also bisexual, a heroin addict, Jesus freak and wrote a tune covered by Cass Elliott, "Jesus Was a Cross Maker". Hers was a tale of struggle, addiction, prostitution, near death, redemption, creative flourish, a long path of sobriety, fame lurking on the horizon, and sudden tragic fall by overdose.

Hers is not the usual three act tale of VH1 Behind the Music that ends with peace and redemption, and thus not very well known. The underlying sadness in her tunes foretold her fate. Yet there is also something healing in her music at certain moments and her "The Donor" of "The Kiss" (below) call out to me with their eerie Baroque pop grandeur and simplicity in the wee hours of the night. They are the "Angel Eyes" of the granola era. I recall them calling out to me during my very early teens from a tinny table top radio in my grandmother's kitchen tuned in to an obscure campus station, the likes of which were long gone by the time of the Ford Administration. I hope I am not alone in remembering her. Rest in peace Judee as you bring me peace tonight.

Precious Junk, Junk-Pop, J-Pop, and the Ken Doll

Junk Thief has had an obsession with J-pop, high Japanese culture and all things Tokyo since the late 1970s and owns the nearly complete catalogs of Y.M.O., Sakamoto's solo and film scores, Shonen Knife, Pizzicato Five, Puffy Ami Yumi and Oh Penelope. He's tended to lean towards J-Pop girl groups since the male singers are too often of the whining U.S. boy band genre. Junk Thief's love life has often resembled kabuki theater. And, of course, Junk Thief has often joined forces with Hello Kitty and Deery Lou to fight evil forces in the Universe. Sanrio characters are the only hope to bring justice to our trouble, terrorized world.

Junk Thief was aware of but not not that into Ken Hirai until lately, and he's been in very heavy rotation these days. You've got to an admire a 6 foot plus Japanese gay dude that looks like, well, the way he looks and who can do something as fun and goofy as Pop Star (above) and Fake Star (below) where he cavorts with a bunch of blonde super models as if he was actually into them. Don't listen to the lyrics too closely and you might mistake him for, well, you insert the American name. Fittingly, his first hit was Precious Junk. Is Junk Thief off base, or does this guy deserve to have his own version of the Ken Doll? Junk Thief would be first on line to order one.

Reason to Be Happy on a Sunny Sunday

It's been a perfect, gorgeous Sunday in San Francisco. A good day to celebrate not being in Fat City and trying to do something other than the personal catch up needed after a week on the road. Among the random tasks in my bottomless stash of various transfers has been putting a number of Mina Mazzini videos into MP3 format. I think she reached her peak around 1973 or 1974 when she covered several Brecht/Weill tunes. But her specials from the latter half of the 1960s are gloriously surreal. It's sort of like seeing Lola Heatherton at the Hollywood Palace under the direction of Count Visconti with Caligula as the executive producer. If only Connie Francis ever dreamed of being half as melodramatic.

She's recorded in quite a number of languages, but I especially lover her wonderfully wacky diction in English. And sequins seemed to have much more hypnotic lure back in the days of simple blck and white TV, dontcha think?

Pod packing

Trying to decide what to put into the little silver device is always a dilemma before a trip. With upwards of 98G of songs on one external hard drive which I'm sure will eventually be one of several music only drives, it's a hard task. Besides usual catalogs of Mahler, Mozart, Debussy, Poulenc, Nina Simone, I've decided on at least two additions this week.

Anjani Thomas' Blue Alert has quickly become a favorite that fittingly comes close on the heels of the 20th anniversary re-issue of Jennifer Warnes' The Famous Blue Raincoat. I never cared for Jennifer's mid- to late 1980s pop duets/movie themes. But I immediately connected with her as a kiddo when I saw her singing Easy to Be Hard on the Smothers Brothers back when she was in the L.A. cast of Hair.

The real surprise is Jens Lekman's Night Falls on Kortedala. I've loved Jens from when I first heard him six to seven years ago with Maple Leaves, and he gets better with each release. Besides being so adorable and a great ukulele player, he is seriously improving as a vocalist, or at least growing. He's never had a bad voice, but it's easy to dismiss him with his often silly lyrics that fool many people into pegging him as a Jonathan Richman for the New Millennium. Kortedala (the name of a hideously ugly planned community in his native Sweden shown below) shows that he may have more in common with Scott Walker (who'll also be featured heavily on my iPod as usual) than anyone imagined. There are several string intensive, lush ballads, such as the stunning opener And I Remember Every Kiss, a gorgeous tune without an ounce of whimsy or irony. But, as usual, there's just the right of whimsy. Regardless, Jens is quickly advancing on my scale of 50 favorite male singers, and certainly tops my list of Swedish pop artists. Kortedala is just an gorgeous, near perfect album that is so now yet also so rooted in the best of the past. And though there are tinges of sadness and silliness around the edges, it makes me feel so happy listening to it.

I've yet to get the new Roisin Murphy release but it will probably join Jens and Anjani. Sadly the new Annie Lennox album leaves me cold. And, what, no Madonna? Uh, no. Madonna-fre home and iPod here.

In the meantime, I'm seriously considering becoming a completely Apple-free home once my current iPod croaks. Want a guess on when yours will bite the dust? There is now a handy iPod death watch calculator. My favorite response to smug Apple enthusiasts who look at me with shock when I reveal that I don't share their enthusiasm is: "Think different!"

Eros Ramazzotti - Bambino nel Tempo

Hearing a factoid on the order that Bananrama is the most popular British girl group of all time or that Eros Ramazzotti is the most popular Italian pop singer of all time makes me do a double take. Granted, he's from a country where Puccini and Verdi sell better than a lot of pop pap.

Now in his mid-40s, his salt and pepper locks and fondness for velvet and brocade blazers only make him more appealing. He obviously opted for reaching the enormous Latin American market instead of the U.S. which he's never conquered despite being produced by Trevor Horn and duets with duets with Tina Turner (passable, but uninspired), Cher (cheesy but passable song, but he is at his most munchable in their video), onetime girl friend Patsy Kinset (whatever), Pavarotti (inevitable) Andrea Bocelli (inevitable but unfortunate), and Anastacia (actually not half bad)

He is possibly the one singer more nasal than Rufus Wainwright, but when he's on target as with this tune, he deserves all the hoopla afforded him. As with most of his albums, this one was also released in Spanish which was pretty decent, but it just doesn't have the same sweep as the Italian original. It really manages the capture the sadness and joy of being alone on an adventure as a boy or as a man in his 40s. Towards the final 3/4s of this clip when he pulls out the harmonica while contemplating the heavens, it really takes on the level of powerful pop poetry that hasn't been seen in top 40 music in this country since at least 1980 or so. The lyric reaches for thoughts a bit higher than what is usually broadcast on local airwaves:

"At this time of doubt/I can't keep fooling myself/even with so much hope/I keep a bit of the naivety/I long to keep going like I did then/always asking why...

....loneliness keeps me company/while I'm breathing salty air/this place seemed magical in my memory/like a young boy I'm looking for an answer I don't have/just as I did long ago/It makes no difference/It just grows more stunning with the passage of time..."

Though not exactly profound poetry, it's a sharp contrast to the drivel of some 45+ shrill like Fergie braying about "all that junk in my trunk" on this side of the pond.

The vibe of this song really makes me think of the film The Best of Youth, another Italian puffy pop pastry, that pulls at me with a mix of sadness, longing and joy. I really love the idea of the best of youth, optimism, a lack of cynicism, and contentment with solitude and salty summer breezes making life joyful with all of its pain and unbearable lightness.