There’s easy music, difficult music, and the stuff in between. And then there’s uncomfortable music.
I admit when I first listened to Lowell Davidson – Rediscovered Session of 1988, I wasn’t ready for it. My gut reaction screamed exploitation because the only record Lowell Davidson released during his all-too-brief life, The Lowell Davidson Trio, is sheer brilliance. Davidson’s way at the piano is unlike any other, and his searching, yearning, reaching style flickers with otherworldly brilliance.
Context. Some years ago, I was driving back from a day of record shopping at Princeton Record Exchange, an experience that can be damn near meditative, as it was this particular day. Seeing as the main route from Princeton to our home is along one of NJ’s shittiest roadways, and that’s saying something, I was in the habit of taking random routes home, unassisted by nav, twisting and turning through the beautiful farmlands of Central Jersey (no irony).
On this particular day, as I was driving through a place I’d never been, a particularly lovely little non-place untouched by recent time, Gavin Bryars’ “Jesus’ Blood Hasn’t Failed Me Yet” came on the radio (103.3 WPRB on your Internet dial). Like this non-place, “Jesus’ Blood” was new to me and listening to this magical mystery of a song made my journey feel extraordinary, as if the wheels of the car were no longer touching the ground, replaced by wings (made of wishes).
The short story of this song, I call it a song, finds Bryars happening on an old man, who appeared to be living on the street, singing a hymn. I call it a hymn. Bryars recorded him. When Bryars returned to the University where he taught, he played this recording, on repeat because it was rather brief, through a sound system to listen. The way I remember it, Bryars got distracted for some time with other things and when he returned to the room, this little hymn was still playing on repeat, and it had drawn an audience of students sitting silently in awe, some in tears. Inspired, we now have “Jesus’ Blood”, originally released in 1975 on Brian Eno’s Obscure Records (Obscure no.1) as The Sinking Of The Titanic.
In a similar vein, the music of Washington Phillips is concerned with otherworldly things, and even a brief listen will introduce you to Phillips’ wings (made of wishes).
Which gets me back to Lowell Davidson – Rediscovered Session of 1988. Taken within this context, I can find beauty, mystery, and magic here. Davidson’s wings are at times difficult to hear, at times discomforting, which is its own kind of power.
“Rainbow Sleeves”, Tom Waits (who recorded a less convincing version of “Jesus’ Blood”):
You used to dream yourself away each night
To places that you’d never been
On wings made of wishes
That you whispered to yourself
Back when every night the moon and you
Would sweep away to places
That you knew
Where you would never get the blues
Well now, whiskey gives you wings
To carry
Each one of your dreams
And the moon does not belong to you
But I believe
That your heart keeps young dreams
Well, I’ve been told
To keep from ever growing old
And a heart that has been broken
Will be stronger when it mends
Don’t let the blues stop you singing
Darling, you’ve only got a broken wing
Hey, you just hang on to my rainbow
Hang on to my rainbow
Hang on to my rainbow sleeves