My Rush Wish List

The band Rush is notorious for sticking to the following script: play most of the new album, the first track off of another 11 or 12 albums, one or two surprises, and call it a tour.  Though I’ve seen them do this eight times (82, 85, 90, 91, 94, 02, 12, 13), rumor has it that the current tour could provided more in the way of surprises, and since this will be the last time I see the band I’m hoping to go out on a high note.  While I could check the set list on-line, I’ve decided to go to Friday night’s show at the United Center in Chicago cold, because anticipating what song comes next is half the fun.

Recognizing that I’m reaching here, below is my Rush Wish List, and I’ll check back after Friday to see what part of my wish comes true.  I suspect very little, but one never knows.  I’m going to go in reverse chronological order.

20) from Clockwork Angels: Headlong Flight

19) from Snakes and Arrows: nothing really, but if I had to pick, Spin Drift would be okay.

18) from Feedback: nothing.

17) from Vapor Trails: Ceiling Unlimited

16) from Test for Echo: Half the World

15) from Counterparts: Between Sun & Moon, Everyday Glory

14) from Roll the Bones: The Big Wheel

13) from Presto: almost anything, but Chain Lightning and Superconductor would be cool.

12) from Hold Your Fire: Prime Mover

11) from Power Windows: Territories (yeah, they played this song on their last tour, but it’s soooo good)

10) from Grace Under Pressure: Kid Gloves

9) from Signals: Analog Kid (again, yeah…played on last tour, but…)

8) from Moving Pictures: Tom Sawyer, Red Barchetta, YYZ

7) from Permanent Waves: Spirit of Radio, Freewill, Jacob’s Ladder, Natural Science

6) from Hemispheres: would love to hear the Prelude and The Sphere from Hemispheres, maybe part of La Villa Strangiato

1-5) Look, it’s no secret that Geddy Lee can no longer hit the night notes, which is fine.  So rather than screech his way through a bunch of old tracks, I’d love to hear a musical medley that includes some of the following:

5) from A Farewell to Kings: A Farewell to Kings, Cygnus X-1

4) from 2112: A Passage to Bangkok, Something for Nothing

3) from Caress of Steel: The Fountain of Lamneth

2) from Fly By Night: Fly by Night

1) from Rush: Before and After

So there you are.  I understand that on this tour there are a number of songs that Rush will be substituting between gigs.  I’ll cross my fingers that I get the better of the two setlists, but either way, it’s been a hell of a ride for this band and this fan.  My son and I will take it all in one last time.

The Dreaded Bucket List

Many of us have become adept at selling an image of ourselves – our brand, if you will – especially since the advent of social media.  We want to show the world that our lives are exciting, our kids are brilliant and that we’re well on our way to checking all the boxes on our bucket lists.  When I jumped out of an airplane in 1988, I took pictures, but I had nowhere to post them.  Today, if I were to jump out of an airplane, every person I’ve been in touch with in the last decade would know about my feat within seconds, and they might even get the false impression that I’m daring and interesting.

(This reminds me of my favorite line from the 1987 movie, Broadcast News.  When William Hurt’s character asks, “What do you do when your real life exceeds your dreams?”  Albert Brooks answers, “Keep it to yourself.”)

The problem is that we’re constantly exposed to other people’s accomplishments, and I find myself reading other people’s posts and thinking I don’t measure up.  What’s particularly bothersome to me are the dreaded Bucket Lists whose entries make me question whether the happy life I’m leading is all a fraud.  I resent the implication that I haven’t lived until I’ve (fill in the blank: scuba dived, bungee jumped, swam with whales, dolphins, sharks or any other large aquatic creature, gone on safari, traveled to anyplace that takes longer than a ten hour flight to get to, rock climbed, run a marathon or any other kind of “thon”, attended the Kentucky Derby, deep-sea fished, fished anywhere for anything, eaten liver or tongue…). 

Sure, my life is tame compared to some, but so what?  Well, social media keeps telling me what, and I start to get defensive.  I’ll even catch myself comparing my life to the lives of fictional characters while watching TV (“I don’t see Andy Taylor training for a marathon, and he seems pretty happy.”)

Yeah, it’s come to that. 

So, in the spirit of the old t-shirt that displays an unemotional face with the caption, “Have a day,” I'd like to share my bucket list that mostly involves not dying:

1)      Live at least another three and a half decades.

2)      Stay happily married until death do us part.

3)      Maintain a good relationship with my kids for the rest of my life.

4)      Regularly challenge myself in small ways.

There.  Throw in taking dance lessons someday and traveling to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and I think that just about covers it.   And lest you think my goals aren’t aiming high enough, I leave with a question: how many people live to be eighty-two, happily married, and still have good relationships with their kids?

Grey Gardens

During Rufus Wainwright’s show last week at City Winery in Chicago (a great show as always, though far too short), he played the song “Grey Gardens” from his second studio album, Poses.  The performance inspired me to revisit the song, and I’d forgotten that it begins with the following line of movie dialogue:

“It's very difficult to keep the line between the past and the present, you know what I mean?”

I probably first heard this line around thirteen years ago, but apparently lacked the curiosity to actually look up its origins until last week.  Many of you may already know the details, but for me it was news; turns out the dialogue comes from a film called – surprise – “Grey Gardens,” a voyeuristic 1975 documentary about Edith and Edie Beale, the respective aunt and cousin of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, who in the 60s and 70s lived a reclusive life in the decaying mansion of Grey Gardens in East Hampton, New York.  A few years prior to the film, the Beales were very close to being evicted due to health code violations until Mrs. Onassis came to the rescue by investing $32K to get the home back up to code.  It could be argued that it wasn’t money well spent; the film shows the mother and daughter living among cats who relieve themselves anywhere they please, papers and food scraps scattered everywhere, and open holes in the plaster through which raccoons and other animals enter (mostly because the younger Beale proactively feeds them).  It’s certainly an interesting film and one that achieved a cult following over the decades, though it’s not for all tastes, and the movie sheds little light on what made these two women decide to live largely cut off from the outside to begin with. 

Luckily, while searching for the documentary (which can be rented on Amazon for $2.99), I found another movie with the same title, a fictionalized version of the Edith and Edie Beale story starring Jessica Lange and Drew Barrymore that first appeared on HBO in 2009 (and can also be rented on Amazon).  This film is outstanding, with pitch-perfect performances by the two leads.  In addition to giving the viewer a (fictionalized) glimpse of what the lives of the Beales may have been like prior to their fall from grace, it meticulously reproduces many of the more poignant scenes of the documentary.  It won three of seventeen Emmy nominations and two of three Golden Globe nominations.

The allure of watching previously wealthy eccentrics living in the shadow of missed opportunities must be somewhat universal, for the Beales's story was even captured in a successful musical, first off-Broadway and then on Broadway itself in 2006, winning three of its ten Tony nominations in 2007 and running for 307 performances. 

So in a nutshell: I learned a great deal and watched two interesting movies all due to a song - yet another example of how music can enlighten our lives.  Thanks Rufus.

If you’re interested in learning a thing or two about Little Edie and Big Edie Beale, a good place to start might be the Grey Gardens website.

How Good Do We Have to Be?

Several years ago a friend of mine said to me: “I don’t believe in heaven, but if there is one, I think I’m going.”  I loved how self-assured he was despite his obvious flaws, and wish I could go through life with as much confidence, not because I’m worried about an after-life, but because I want to believe that I’m doing “enough” for my fellow man (and environment) while still being able to enjoy my indulgences. 

For me, I’m constantly wrestling with the question: how good do I have to be?  I don’t mean “how good” of the self-help variety, a la Stuart Smalley’s daily affirmations on SNL as depicted by Al Franken.   I really mean, “Okay, so how good do I have to be so that I can spend time doing things I really want to do, and do them with a clear conscience?”  If this question seems rather seedy, I’ll conceded that point, but ask that you hear me out (and bear with me as I lean on religious teachings).

The very fact that I’m asking this question probably deflates some of the good I do.  In Judaism, there are eight levels of charitable giving according to Maimonides, and the worst is giving grudgingly.  So now, on the days when I dread going to a nearby homeless shelter because I’d rather stay at home and watch football, not only do I walk away feeling like I haven’t done enough, I feel like what I’ve done isn’t even worthy.  Say it with me: oy!

Monetarily, Judaism offers straightforward guidelines, as there’s both a minimum (10 percent of one’s net income) and a maximum:

One who wishes to donate (generously) should not give more than a fifth of his income, lest he himself come to be in need of charity. (-Babylonian Talmud, Ketubot 50a)

Of course, there’s really nothing easy about donating 10 percent of one’s income, so the maximum is probably irrelevant for most people, but one could just as easily apply this “upper limit” logic to volunteering and perhaps give credence to the idea that there’s a point at which someone’s done enough to help others.

Without delving into specifics, I volunteer and donate here and there, and sometimes I feel pathetically proud: “Well, wasn’t that nice of me?”  It feels good to mentally check the box “volunteer one’s time” so that I can enjoy the rest of my day (week? month?) without the nagging feeling that I’m not contributing enough to the care of others.  But of course, the reality is that I could always do more.  Much more.

So how much is enough?

Well, if the story of the Good Samaritan from the New Testament is any indication, probably a lot more than what I’m currently doing.  (I get a double dose of religion many weekends by attending synagogue on Friday and then hearing a Sunday morning sermon at the Presbyterian Church where I play piano.  This allows me to feel doubly inadequate.)  In this story, a lawyer asks Jesus what he needs to do to receive eternal life, and when Jesus asks the man what the law says, he answers in part, “Love your neighbor as you love yourself.”  Jesus tells him, “You are right.  Do this and you will live.”  But then the lawyer asks, “Who is my neighbor?”

Ah ha!  Well, this gets more complicated.  I suggest you read Luke 10:25-37 for the whole story, but the short answer to the question is: everyone is your neighbor!

Oh goodness.  This is where the anxiety starts creeping in.  In this day and age of unlimited information about every ailment and calamity facing people all around the world, one could hardly blame a well-intentioned person from becoming so overwhelmed with charitable possibilities that he’s not even able to buy a coffee or a beer without sinking into a hole of self-hatred, like Steven Spielberg’s Oscar Schindler on steroids: “This coffee!  Instead of buying this coffee, I could have fed a family an entire meal!  Instead of watching this baseball game, I could have volunteered at a homeless shelter!”

So how good do we have to be?  Harold Kushner wrote a book with this exact question as its title, but he doesn’t really talk about what’s required of each of us when it comes to helping others.  He discusses familial relationships and acceptance for one’s failings.  That’s all well and good.  But the reality is that as I write this blog that maybe fifty people will read, I could be delivering food or mentoring a child.  I might already be doing those things, but shouldn’t I do more?  If yes, how much more?  Can I spend a day writing without thinking that I could have done something nobler with my time?  If yes, can I spend two days?  Three days?  Four?  Can and buy myself a $400 bass amp (as I did last week) without thinking that my money could have (should have?) gone to a nobler purpose?  How about a $1000 guitar?  A $2000 keyboard?  I already own two keyboards, you say?  So why would I need another?  Wow, have you got a lot to learn about musicians.

Look, for me, these are not easy questions, and there are no easy answers.  I suspect I’ll never be as content as my friend who believes he’s a shoo-in for the ultimate reward, and maybe that’s a good thing.  Maybe by questioning what I’m doing I make better choices here and there that lead to the betterment of others. 

I sometimes play piano at funerals for people who – by the accounts of their loved ones – have done remarkable things:  formed foundations, served on every society known to man, volunteered for every cause, and I leave these funerals feeling partly depressed and partly inspired: depressed because I haven’t done enough and inspired because I see what people are capable of.

So maybe that’s the answer.  How good do we have to be?  Better than we are, but less than perfect.

Journey’s End: a must-read interview

Love ‘em or hate ‘em, the band Journey made its mark in the late 70s and early 80s with rousing rock anthems and weepy pop ballads, and though the band may have been hated by critics, audiences grew with each successive release.  Not only did multiple personnel changes not hurt Journey, it seemed as if the changes were destined to be, as each new member added an element that bolstered and heightened the band’s success.  For a while, they could do no wrong. 

And then in 1986 something happened: gone was the rhythm section of Steve Smith and Ross Valory, gone were the one-word album titles and interesting artwork, and gone was – to my ears – the band’s edge.  Rumor had it that lead singer Steve Perry had taken control of the band, except specifics were hard to come by.  Try searching “Journey fire Steve Smith and Ross Valory” on Google, and most of what you’ll find are brief sentences summarizing the event and little of substance even from former band members.  VH1’s “Journey Behind the Music” adds nothing critical to the story, and watching the “rockumentary,” one gets the feeling that Perry controlled its content, as he’s featured far more prominently than other band members.

But a few months ago my friend Aaron forwarded a 2001 interview of long-time Journey manager Herbie Herbert by long-time Journey fan Matthew Carty.  A more intriguing, entertaining read you’ll be hard-pressed to find, unless it’s a 2008 interview of Herbie Herbert by Andrew McNeice.  Herbert is an interviewer’s goldmine: outspoken, knowledgeable, funny, and an old-school, hard-nosed character whose musical instincts and marketing savvy were spot-on.

Next time you have half an hour, read the 2001 Carty interview, and you may walk away with an entirely different understanding of the band, of the music industry and – possibly – human nature.  I’ve read it twice, and I’ll read it again.  It’s that good.