"I was born...in a cloud..."

I don't remember when I first decided to write a blog. 2003, 2004, some time that seems so long ago now. I made it through graduate school, even paid for it! And changed jobs several times, something that surprises even me, the gambler who likes to take risks. I wrote a lot during my Harper years, but once I got real about my career, I wrote less and less.

But when I first started, I was occasionally warned, even chastened, by techy friends, that by using Yahoo and then Blogger, I didn't own my content, I wasn't storing it anywhere safe. It was born, and borne, in a cloud.

I miss writing. It was good for my head, heart, psyche, vocabulary, cortisol level, sense of self. But sometimes getting the words and thoughts right took days, and who has days anymore? Not to mention the newer distractions, Facebook, Twitter, all that jazz. So, with this post, I am casting off my old Blogger ways and moving to a hipper, more condensed home, at Tumblr. With my same shantooz moniker, of course. I feel like my friend Roberta, who ditched the big house, sold her car, got a jazzy condo a stone's throw from her officr and the Metra station and give her life a fresh haircut, Except, I hate haircuts, and I love my house. So, just the blog will be getting a trim for now.

But, hey, I started with a quote, as I always have, because even while moving house, I have music on the brain. Here it is, December 29, and we've barely seen a glimmer of frost in these parts. Even for someone like me, who hates the cold and dreads the shoveling, the lack of wintry weather is disturbing. So, leave it to Kate Bush to bring me some snow, musically, instead. She's back, with more new music, after that absence that seemed to go on forever, and the new album is "50 Words for Snow." I find it sort of a companion piece to "A Sky of Honey," the album-length musical poem that comprised half of "Aerial." In my mind, "A Sky of Honey" is one song, or maybe a poem is more accurate, with the music and voices changing as the story unfolds. It's always struck me as the story of a person who's gone through difficulty ("We're gonna be laughing about this...") who moves quietly through a sleepy summer day, discovering in the changing light of sunset, twilight, darkness, dawning, a new way to look at life and even loss, and yes, the whole thing ends with cacophonous laughter, echoing the promise of how it begins.

So, how is "50 Words for Snow" a companion to a midsummer night's dream? It's the other side of the coin. Not one song or one poem, the pieces are more distinctive, but one season, possibly even one winter's night, and the stories taking place all over the world as that night reveals itself. The opener, "Snowflake," begins with the words, "I was born...in a cloud," and when the singing started I was puzzled, until I remembered the MOJO review and interview: that's not Kate singing, it's her young son, Bertie, who made such a charming debut on "Aerial." I'm not a person who routinely twitters about kids being all adorable and that, but Bertie's spoken word pieces on "Aerial" even get me a little smooshy and weepy, and that's saying something. "Snowflake" is almost all his, and wow, did Mom give him a masterpiece. Reviewers have been lost for words to describe how well the song captures the almost soundless sound of falling snow. Think of an overnight snowfall, how it muffles the world's bustle, how it wraps you up in slumber, but for the occasional blast of creaking wind at a window or chimney. Now imagine that as piano, a rumble of drums, some quavering guitar, and a high, dreamy vocal, and that's what you have in "Snowflake" Oh, wait, Mom plays a role, too. Kate is, of course, the poet-composer and pianist on this lovely reverie, but she adds a critical refrain as well: "The world is so loud / keep fallin' / I'll find you." It is unclear to whom this voice belongs, but if Bertie is the snowflake blowing wild over the earth, all "fabulous dancing" and "twist and shout," Mom is the voice waiting for him when he starts to fall. It is over 10 minutes long, and I get depressed when it ends. I cannot wait for a snowy night, so I can hear "Snowflake" in the proper environment, but for right now it's great company on my morning drive.

Is the rest of "50 Words" as strong? Not quite, imo, but it's pretty damn elegant and artful and unique. I get the sense she felt tired of writing songs, trapped by format and formula. These are stories, set to music - sometimes sung, but often spoken. There is rarely a hook or melody line to lull your senses, but there are ghosts and a wild man in the mountains, lovers who keep meeting up over centuries only to lose each other to war, terrorism and other atrocities, angels, scientists. She has a lot of characters living in her head, always has, no? (Bertie's beautiful choirboy soprano reminded me of "All The Love," on "The Dreaming," another moment of genius when her music and lyrics were so perfectly matched.) She has interesting collaborators, too, from husband Dan to ever-faithful Del Palmer to, yes, Elton John. Fun to hear the fan get to sing with one her favorites on "Snowed In At Wheeler Street." I'm not sure the duet is entirely successful, but it's almost beside the point with those two in the room.

I was curious if any promo videos had been made for this album, so I YouTubed it. Nothing official that I have found but fans are having a field day with these storybook songs. Of course, the naysayers are out in full force, too, that she's "lost it," it's "SO sad," etc. One poster was comparing Kate Bush to "the fall of Whitney." Last I knew, Whitney Houston was a recovering drug addict, who, yes, once possessed a mighty, God-given set of pipes and a beautiful face. She was never an instrumentalist, composer, poet, arranger, producer...ahem. You get the idea. The same critic wrote that singers like Annie Lennox and Shirley Bassey had kept their talents even as they aged. Well. speaking from the perspective of a singer, if you begin your career singing with a full-bodied alto, with a bit of growly edge, it's not difficult to keep that voice as you age. If you begin your career in your teens, with an unnaturally high soprano. aging is going to bring struggle, and God forbid you smoke, drink, gain weight, go through menopause - all of it pushes the upper register farther and farther out of reach. (Ask Joni Mitchell, who will tell you the voice she's using now is what feels natural and comfortable to her.) Yes, Kate Bush's voice sounds diminished, in a fashion, right now, but even she admitted the wuthering heights were often reached with unhealthy, not-possible-to-maintain vocal stylings. But she's in full command of her artistry and I'm just so glad she's willing to step out of the house and grace us with some of her gifts now and then. It's impossible not to read some of the criticism of her work as sexist, too. Paul McCartney certainly doesn't have his boyish vocal range or looks anymore, but who wants to pick on Paul McCartney? John Lennon wrote of family love and how he treasured his domestic life, but a woman writes the same and she's lost her touch, lost her artistic edge.

So, it depends on what you're looking for in Kate Bush. If you seek a sexy teenager in leg warmers with a fluttering bird voice, this new album will not be for you. But if you, like me, have loved Kate forever because of her one-of-a-kind perspective on the world and its music, her ability to create and then live in musical personas, her sweetness and childlike imagination, then you'll love "50 Words for Snow."

Now, if you'll excuse me, I will drift along to be born, again, in a cloud.
http://shantooz.tumblr.com - coming soon.

"Six o'clock in the morning, you're the last to hear the warning, you been tryin' to throw your arms around the world..."

Remember when Bono injured his back and the U2 tour had to be put on hold while the poor guy recovered from surgery? For real fans of the band, it was like being 4 years old and someone telling you Christmas wasn't coming. I cannot provide any rational, mature explanation for how depressed I was. But, eventually, himself was healed and the boys got back out on the road and a rescheduled date for Chicago was announced. Yesterday evening, that long-awaited redo arrived - along with temps in the 90s and the calmest skies the Windy City will ever know. Not a cooling breeze to be found at any price, any locale. This summer, the a/c in my car has also fritzed so the 2.5 hours I spent driving from Barrington to Soldier Field may rank as some of the longest hours IN MY LIFE. "The traffic is stuck and you're not moving anywhere..." I drank two Pepsis in the car, instantly regrettable because a visit to the ladies' room wasn't happening anytime soon. I also bought some Reese's peanut butter cups to make the car ride more pleasant and get an energy boost. What in God's name was I thinking? Peanut butter cups on a day when the interior of my car was a sultry 600 degrees? They melted before I could remove the wrapping. Sigh. "Sky falls, you feel like it's a beautiful day..."

This time around, I had treated myself to some VIP tickets for a good cause: a standing spot in the (RED) Zone. Just under $200, but with a private entrance/exit, our own bar and t-shirt stand, seats for those who wanted them (are you kidding me?). Was I glad I got a (RED) Zone ticket this time? Yes. Would I do it again? No. I've had a better, closer view from the regular GA section and I missed the insane and brilliant energy out there on the main floor. But last night, my (RED) Zone spot was a most excellent option. Easy in and out, plus less crowded than GA which is a premium when it is 850 degrees on the floor of Soldier Field. Since I could not leave work before 3:45 PM, I would have been a long way back in the GA section, methinks. My extra cash went to charity, and I am very cool with that. While I missed the manic intensity, I met some exceptionally nice people, particularly a married couple who repeatedly offered me beer and shifted their spots around so I could see better. Want to know how often that would happen at a Dead concert, a Springsteen concert, a Rolling Stones or Eagles concert? BIG FAT NEVER. U2 fans are the best in the world.

All of that aside, how was the show, you ask. Magical. Spiritually uplifting in a way that heartpounding rock and roll with 70,000 of your sweatiest, closest friends really shouldn't be. Intimate in a way that football stadium spectacle really shouldn't be. Sweet and fun and chock-full of tunes from "Achtung Baby," my favorite U2 album of all time, so what is there not to like? Bono looked healthier and more energized than ever, Edge blessed us with all of his expert wizardry, Adam grinned and sparkled and Larry was, well, you know, Larry. Woman in front of me: "How old is Larry?" Me: "Well, Bono is 51, so I figure Larry is around the same." Woman: "Larry has a great butt." He does. I can't argue with that. And being in the (RED) Zone, we had close access to the circular catwalk and bridges which the band uses to get closer to the fans, so we actually saw his butt. Once. Bono made only a few trips over to our side of the world, but wow, when he did...I was glad there were a few crazies in that section with me, because when Bono comes swaggering over, y'all had better show your approval.

Favorite moments:

• Opening the show with FOUR tunes from "Achtung..." was just dazzling. I still hold out hope some day for "Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses?" but hearing "Even Better Than The Real Thing," "The Fly," "Until The End Of the World," and the amazing "Mysterious Ways..." Later in the show, "One," of course.
  
• "Zooropa" is an album some U2 "fans" don't like. It brings back fantastic memories for me, because I bought the CD in London. Hearing both of the best songs from it last night? Another fantastic moment. "Stay (Faraway, So Close)" done by just Bono and Edge, incredibly beautiful, and then total sensory overload as the band disappeared into a flickering tornado/wasp's nest of lights for :"Zooropa" itself.
  
• I can't remember what song had just ended but the spotlight came onto Bono and he thanked us, took a breather, got quiet for a few. He just stood there and looked out and the place went insane. It's really hard to write about why that matters and why it is such a wonderful thing to be a part of. It just is.
  
• Chicago apparently has the singalong thing down to a science, at least Bono says so, although maybe he says that everywhere? We grabbed our parts with gusto and even kept "Pride" going after the band was finished.
  
• "Streets" - always, for me, the emotional high point, but last night, into that steamy cauldron of bodies and souls, God decided to drop down some light, refreshing rain as "Streets" was roaring to the finish line. Again, I can't explain or describe to you what a magical thing it was, but I will never forget it. It was as if even heaven approved.
  
• Show's almost over, depression is already settling in, and Bono mentions Greg Carroll, the U2 staff member whose life and passing were immortalized in "One Tree Hill." Cheers. Then he says, "We wrote a song for him...but we're not going to play it." Laughter, and then - much screaming. We knew what the song was and Chicago is not going to let you get away with THAT. Bono says he has to consultant with "The Professor," they decide to do "Moment of Surrender" (yay) while thinking about it. A deal is made: they'll attempt "One Tree Hill" if we promise not to post it on the Internet if they screw up. They didn't screw up. It was lovely. 

Low points:

• I'm talking about you, loud, fat guy who blabbed through the video piece featuring Aung San Suu Kyi.

• I'm also talking about you, guy in the parking lot, who enjoyed the show so much "I might go out and buy a greatest hits or something." WHA?????
  
  
• Too. Damn. Hot. How Bono and Edge were running around in leather is beyond me. And Edge - A HAT WHEN IT IS 90 DEGREES????
  
  
• Hey, Interpol - your songs were kinda cool. How about looking like you wanted to be there?
  
  
• Sound was just okay, and where I was standing, it should have blown my mind. A whole lotta Larry going on, and that's cool because I love feeling drums and bass in my rib cage, but you know, this little folk band from Ireland has a pretty fantastic singer, too...
  
  
• Too. Damn. Long. To. Get. Out. And I parked for free - I can't imagine paying $46.00 to park and waiting an hour to get out of the museum campus.
  
  
• No "Breathe," no "No Line On The Horizon," (wouldn't that second mix on the bonus album kick ass live?), I love this band and I don't want them to feel like they have to fall into the greatest hits' trap (except for Mr. Lamoid in the parking lot). It must be incredibly difficult writing that set list - leaving out "Streets" or "Pride" or "With or Without You" or "One" would be criminal, and yet...Next time, no opening act, and U2 plays for 5 hours. :)

I leave you with a few more photos. I love concerts, love music like it is my own life. Nothing can really compare to the high of a U2 concert, and sadly, nothing compares to the low that follows! I was supposed to be travelling to Pittsburgh to see the final show of this tour, but I had to finally let that go last night. It's giving me a stomach ache thinking about it, so I'll sign off here.

Adam, all kinda floral and sparkly.

Larry's backside, Bono up on the big screen. I know I'll go crazy...

Edge, in leather and HAT, when it was so damn hot.

My main man.

Very cool preshow graphics on the spaceship.

I took more, maybe will post some more in a few.

"You'll find that life is still worthwhile..."

"If you just smile."

For decades, here and there, I have heard the song "Smile." Most recently, it was performed at the Oscar ceremony during a video tribute to actors, writers, producers, directors and other movie types who had died in the previous year. I almost never watch stuff like that, being without a TV at home and rarely going to the movies being celebrated. But this year, I was trapped in a hotel in Springfield, IL, while a thunderstorm raged outside, so I tuned in while yukking it up on Facebook. Celine Dion appeared in a sylphlike gown and, truly, really punched me right in the gut with her understated, very spot-on rendition of "Smile." Never has La Dion gotten it quite so right.

I knew, through that cultural osmosis I fear is being lost, that Charlie Chaplin was somehow associated with the song "Smile." Odd for a silent film star to be associated with a vocal piece! I figured it played in the background during one of his charming, sad-eyed routines, hence the association. Seeing his name affixed to the song as composer, I assumed he was the lyricist. But real life is always weirdest of all, and it turns out the star known for silence wrote the haunting melody to the song. Go figure.

Why do I mention this? Since I call myself The Singing Librarian, you probably are wondering when some singing will take place. A few nights ago, just before I turned out the lights, I got an emergency message from my good friend Veronica. Veronica worked with me at DPPL and even though her life and career have moved to parts southwest, she still runs the annual Relay For Life in Des Plaines and Park Ridge and does a fantastic job of it. Her message? The planned-for bagpiper had bailed out for this Friday's Relay, so, could I play the pipes instead?

Kidding about that last part. Sometimes, when I first begin to warm up in the morning, my own vocal mechanism sounds a bit like squeaky pipes, but play them I do not. I will be singing instead, a poor excuse for bagpipes but what's a girl to do? And what will I be singing, during the Relay's meditative and solemn Luminaria Ceremony? "Amazing Grace," and, "Smile." Be amazed, as I have never sung "Smile" before and am gearing myself up for the challenge. My thanks to the savvy Webcam owner who taped Celine's Oscar night serenade, as it has proven to be a most welcome guide. If you're free tomorrow evening, June 24, Relay For Life takes place at Maine West High School in Des Plaines. It's fun, there's great camaraderie, tons of raffles and yummy things to eat (Magic Cookie Bars...), and if you're still there at 10 PM. you can see if I sink or swim vocally. Most importantly, it's a real community outpouring of support and action in the fight against cancer, an enemy upon which we can all agree. Wish me luck!