This is gonna be a quick one...(but it's been on my mind for a while).

Who says that the Year has to be divided into Quarters? -- I vote for Thirds.  That way,
we lump January thru April together, then May thru August becomes  "the middle chunk."  In roughly that time period, these have been some of my favorite individual songs, stuck in my head in one way or another:

     ARTIST                          SONG

Courtney Barnette          "Avant Gardener"

Benjamin Booker            "Violent Shiver"

Vance Joy                       "Riptide"

Beck                                "Blue Moon" & "Heart Is A Drum"

Milky Chance                  "Stolen Dance"

Young The Giant               "Mind Over Matter"

The Kooks                        "Around Town"

Big Data                            "Dangerous"

Spoon                               "Do You"

Man Man                           "Head On (Hold Onto Your Heart)"

Alt-J                                  "Left Hand Free"

Josier                                "Take Me To Church"

Robert Plant                       "Rainbow"

(A word here about the Australian influence on the above list...if I had to pick my two favorite new songs of the year, one male, one female, I would choose an Aussie singer/songwriter in each category:  Courtney Barnette, who I hope to see this fall at Upstate Concert Hall, and Vance Joy, a dude whose real name is James Keefe.  Both have quirky and distinctive voices, a surrealistic flair to their lyrics that reminds me of French poets of the early 1900's.  Word play is my thing, and these two are amazing. As for musicianship, if Courtney is actually playing lead guitar on her breakout, dry-witted song "Avant Gardener" then she is the best distortion-shredder since Annie Clark, and if not, I have to find out who is, and see that band.  Vance Joy, on the other hand, melodically "swings the crap" outa his little ukelele in a YouTube video "On the Tram" with a version of Riptide that just totally hooked me, and a train car full of commuters back in Melbourne, or Perth, or somewhere back home, as well.  These two combine with early-year favorite "Boy & Bear" so far to qualify for a musical gold, silver, and bronze in the singles category this year.)

I can't help it, my tastes are still changing.  Other than the obvious vintage guy of the group (the miraculously still relevant if not even revelatory Mr. Plant), and of course BECK, and perhaps SPOON, these performers on the list are not much older than my kids, if at all.  The talent just keeps on coming... and there is more and more of it all the time that gives me faith in human expression, still evolving.  Indie music is by its very nature non-formulaic. 

In analyzing this, or just writing it down, I realize I am tilting to WEQX land more than WEXT lately.  Frankly, I can't take it all the time, but the former seems fresher than the latter, though not always with the deep sense of history WEXT brings.

Both stations could be accused of playing certain songs and groups repetitively, but for anything on the above list, I was happy to hear them multiple times.  Though about half the above tunes were played on both stations, I believe the others would be the sole domain of the Vermont station, from Mount Equinox.  Conversely, only WEXT would be playing "Rainbow."

Perhaps I am finally getting a bit burned out on the "Beatles" emphasis by the NPR affiliate out of Troy.  It seems they feel they have to cater to baby boomers of that era to support their public programming, though I'm not sure that's true.  (Full disclosure, I'm still sending in my monthly stipend.)

  I can handle the old blues masters WEXT plays-- John Lee Hooker, Howlin' Wolf, Lightnin' Hopkins,  Robert Johnson-- but I get tired of the same Johnny Cash tune over and over, and got especially sick of Steve Martin and Edie Brickell's monotonous single ("Pretty Little One") before their appearance at Proctor's recently.  So I turn to 102.7 FM more often than I used to.  I happen to dig the snark humor of Jeff Morad in the mornings, and his slightly twisted view of the news, even if I have to hear some Toyota commercials and McDonald jingles now and then.  At least at 'EQX they allow the folks at 42 Degrees to balance things out a bit in the world of commercials...

WEXT still has the best syndicated radio shows in the land, WORLD CAFE with David Dye out of Philadelphia 10a.m. to Noon six days a week, and ECHOES with John Dellaberto, after midnight each night, an amazing kaleidoscope of  soothing, sensual, cerebral sounds.

Some of my close friends don't listen to the radio at all anymore, and prefer the mono-thematic drudgery of certain Internet stations, or Pandora mixes.  I prefer the human element and the spark of the new.  I have no idea how I might've found the ten or twelve tunes I started with here, without the intro from radio.  I will be listenin' till I kick! 

(And I'm glad we have a couple of great radio choices around here, regardless of my minor criticisms.)

Take care & carry on,

Wayne, for WaynesWord2, at saratoga.com

As I walk the rambunctious pup at dusk, the season's BIGGEST RACE now done, far more important people than me are jetting overhead, up and out of the County airport, to destinations more pressing or latitudes more impressive than Saratoga Springs. Perhaps Their Horse Lost, one can only surmise.  Perhaps they are sheiks in that airborne vehicle, or one of the American billionaires hereabouts.  In any case, they are of another ilk than earthbound folk like me, though I too am NOT partaking of the local post-race Commotion, Celebration, and outright Partying that will play out tonight among the wealthy and the hoi polloi alike, as it does almost every day of summer in this hot and famous little town, but especially on this, The Day of The Travers. 

It is dubbed the 4th Leg of the Triple Crown, I learned for the thirty-eight year in a row, as I had watched the Horse Race Spectacle from the comfort of my family-less family room, given superb coverage by NBC on National TV.  Like a vicarious tourist at home, I enjoyed all the recognizable shots of spots downtown & around town.  Certainly itz fun and unusual to see that--LIVE!-- on a Saturday 4:30- 6pm slot, with heavyweight announcers like Tom Hammond, Randy Moss, and former master jockey Jerry Bailey extolling the virtues of our fair city.  I had the wide-screen SAMSUNG to myself, what with my family lake-bound  to the far north while I work at least a half day every day, and make up for lost time... having spent too much of it in nostalgia-land following a high school reunion last weekend.  But that's a separate blog...

The race that caught my interest more than the main event was the first of the two to be televised on the Day's card-- The Ballerina-- and it was really the first full fledged race I've watched from start to finish all season so far.  I was drawn to the #1 horse right away, due to its exotic name:   ARTEMIS AGROTERA.   Not only was his name cool, so was his trainer (a laconic dude named Mike Hushion), his incredible jockey du jour  (Rajiv Maragh), and especially his owner... Chester Broman of Chestertown Farms, whom the TV announcers noted as owning a breeding farm just "50 Miles north of Saratoga."  Since he originally hails from one of the wealthier parts of Connecticut, the connection to "Chestertown, NY" seems an apt coincidence rather than part of his birthright.

In any case his 3 year old bay filly blew away the much-touted competition with a
stretch run that was pure beauty, winning by six and a half lengths.  Even to a non-fanatic like me this horse looked impressive, and she becomes my reason to tune into the Breeders Cup in the fall, (also to be broadcast by NBC).  I have a new rooting interest, it seems.

The Travers itself, the 12th of a 14 race-card that day, was a much more compelling race, and also made for some good television.  I got a kick out of the fact that "The Big Three" in this race: horses named BAYERN, TONALIST, and WICKED STRONG were touted heavily and had their back-stories told during the pre-race buildup.  But the eventual winner, V.E. DAY, was not mentioned once as a possible winner by any on the on-air prognosticators, much to my delight.  He came out of nowhere and you didn't hear his name once it seemed until Tom Dirkin (in his Final Travers Call!) was singing it out:  "and HERE COMES V.E. DAY!!  Running down WICKED STRONG..." who had had the lead the whole second half of the race, until the last two seconds.  Amazing finish, with momentum on the side of jockey Javier Castellano, the hottest rider in America apparently, who knew his horse had won before any of the officials or pundits confirmed it.   He piloted a perfectly timed surge by that horse, owned by a woman named Magalen O. Bryant, who seemed quite overcome with joy and disbelief in the aftermath.

The other cool thing I didn't realize till the race was over was that the two top horses involved were both trained by Jimmy Jerkens, the only trainer with two in the race, albeit for different owners.  The owners of Centennial Farm in the Boston area had gotten a lot of good PR after some rough times, it seems, based on the horse named after the trademark spirit of that city.   I was truthfully rooting for WICKED STRONG to win on that basis, and NBC seemed to be steering their story that way.  But V.E. Day
stole the show in a way that told me NBC had not prepared for that eventuality. The fanfare was unscripted, and then after much hype and hoopla, the Travers was over. 

I bet, in retrospect, that it was the owner of  last place finisher BAYERN who was flying out so quickly after the race.  There was no reason for him to stick around.  But there would be other races, elsewhere, I'm sure.

Till next time,
Wayne, for WaynesWord2, on saratoga.com

Part Two... Pet History as of Summer 2014

So it was May 31st of this year when our lives changed, and we became "dog people."  (This is the ballad of Bentley...)

It was a somewhat spurious decision-- my wife's local yoga teacher mentioned a cousin of hers who was about to start selling golden retriever puppies at a mere hundred dollars a pop, with a few still unclaimed.  No papers or pedigrees were promised, nothing official, and we would have to drive almost all the way to Potsdam to retrieve said retriever, but it seemed worth the risk.  On that fateful Saturday we boldly ventured out of cell phone range and had a great drive up through the more desolate parts of the central and northwest Adirondacks on that fine sunny Saturday...

We meandered our unhurried way through the Mountainous part of the State, just the two of us-- no kids along to make the decision for us.  Up into North Warren off Exit 29, past Newcomb over to Indian Lake, through the Blue Mountain Lake area and then Long Lake, finally Tupper Lake and then further up past a remote reservoir area to South Colton, a small agrarian crossroads north of the Adirondack Park Area border.  The farm we were aiming for was on a turn up a hill, off a picturesque side-road of rolling hills and pristine valley views.  A golden eagle  could be seen swooping around in long looping circles as we got there, a good sign.

 Our cordial hostess-- who had raised 6 or 7 children on the pristine farm where these fields met the sky-- led us up to a well-kept board-&-batten barn and opened the half-door. Spilling out in unison was a roiling horde of eleven perfect puppies, identical except for subtle shadings of color, from blonde to light brown.
  The proud
Mom was a beautiful lithe reddish retriever who bore no ill effects from having spawned this litter ten weeks before.  She sniffed at her brood and hovered a bit, but ultimately they moved as a unit, flowing in an undulating attern, otter-like furballs spilling across the manicured lawn, into the tall grass, and back out.  They were pure frivolity in motion.

Five of eleven had been claimed but not taken yet, and the owner had marked those by painting their toenails different colors.  Mostly males remained.  I liked one of those who clung to my feet a bit but Melinda picked up another, an almost pure blonde puffball, who seemed to love being held, and that was that.  We paid the hundy, as my downstate friend Danny would say, thus separating the first one out of the pack, and started our way back.  Melinda was ready for this, in theory anyway, and cooed and coddIed him on her chest-- like she'd suddenly adopted a new baby,
sixteen years after having our youngest -- and hugged him to her chest all the way back to the Saratoga region, via Route 30 South.   The pup barely moaned or complained at all, and licked her chin.  "Right outa central casting," the little dude seduced us with cuteness from the start...

Flash forward roughly three months... the cuddly blonde puppy who could have fit into a small child's shoebox when we got him now has become a lanky beast who stretches out to about five feet in length from tail to toe when he sprawls sideways on the floor.  He had doubled in size after two weeks, and tripled after six.  He seemed to be larger every time he emerged from his crate in the morning.  What at first were pellets and lumps in the yard became small logs and now resemble the kind of scat small bears leave behind.  To produce this fodder he eats no less than sixteen meals a day, handfuls of Rachel Ray-endorsed dogfood and whole cans of Alpo or equivalent in 20 seconds flat.

The only indication of what was to come was when we had stopped the car for the un-named-at-the-time-dog's first official pee in Long Lake, and fed him some kibbles we had brought.  Five minutes later on the road, I hear a sharp OOOOOWW!! and look over to see my wife contemplating a steamy little heap of dog puke adorning her cleavage.  She seemed more concerned about him, seeming not to want to traumatize him by yelling about it, though he did look a bit sheepish, even at that infantile phase.   This a precursor of both comedy and clean-up maintenance that would be required in coming weeks and months.

Once we got him home and the four of us (as Daryn didn't seem to care) tossed out our favorite potential names, each dubbing him something different for a while... my daughter's choice of "Bentley" won out, mostly because "she liked the sound of it..." without reference to any particular college or unaffordable car. 


I was the one who'd resisted this acquisition for years, as some of my friends and relatives know.  And now, as I feared, it is usually me, at 6:30 or 7 a.m., and then at night too, wearing the yellow or olive-green bag on my hand, seeking out heaps of Bentley poop, and removing them from the lawn, the median, and occasionally the grass of unnamed neighbors... (sorry!)!

 Whereas I used to be the guy raging against other fools who catered to their canines in this manner, now it is me.  I never wanted to be "that guy" yet that guy is me.  At least I don't live in the city where other people can see me.

I spend a half an hour or more I cannot spare each morn setting him free from the crate, watching him ritually pee in the "squat-with-curled-tail" routine, feeding him a bowl or three of food, changing his water, and then awaiting the sharp single bark that tells me it is time for the the constitutional walk.  He sniffs till he finds a good place and I am the fool-in-waiting.   What fun, I always think, as my wife and two younger kids are still sleeping.  Although it does get me out in the brisk morning air, I long for the e-z days of just opening a can of food for the cats and then letting them out the back door for the day. The dog requires so much more.  He wants to play, he wants to track, he wants to sniff, he wants to sample grotesque things in his mouth like a
road-squished toad, or worse yet, a live one, along with objects like sticks, roots, dirt, cans, insects, weeds, cardboard, pine cones, squished plastic bottles alongside the road, and god forbid the occasional dead mammal.   Then, once inside, to stay in practice, he will chew any available shoes, sneakers, slippers, couch covers, anything with tassels, pillows, hassocks, furniture legs, folded laundry piles, and anything he can pull from the recycling bin.  

The cats never did any of this stuff.

They might leave a stray mouse or shrew on the deck, or parts thereof, and gross us out in other ways, but it didn't take hours of your day to entertain or babysit them.  
A dog of this sort is insatiable when it comes to food or play or exercise, that's all there is to it.

When I complained to my buddy Chris, who had two more or less mature and civilized (though still very energetic) Goldens... he texted back--  DON'T WORRY, THAT PHASE WILL ONLY LAST ANOTHER YEAR...OR TWO!

I didn't know whether to laugh or curse my stupidity.  Itz a love/hate thing at this point, and I don't see any easy way out of that.  At one point my wife was at the local Stewart's with the 3 or 4 month old Bentley on a leash.  Grizzled hunter-guy walks by, sez: Thatz a fine lookin' dog-- if you ever wanna sell that pup you let me know?   

When she came home and told me that, I said, What do you think he would offer?
and my daughter and wife were mortified.   On other occasions, when it was THEIR turn to be exasperated by his antics or rough play, they asked the same question.  This became our running joke-- how much would a country-lovin' dude with a pickup truck pay for a sleek retriever like this? 

It was really touch and go whether we should keep him or not during that first month or two... only a tag-team match of constantly taking turns dealing-with-the-dog kept us from losing it, and posting his cute face of Craigslist-- Free for the Taking! Comes with collar and leash...


Flash forward, late August.  He is growing so fast now that when Miles goes away and comes back in three days, he swears he's bigger than he remembers.  Also turning redder, losing the blondish fur...

My wife and the kids went up to Loon Lake for a few days so it was just me and Bentley last night, and then again this morning.  He let me get some writing done
without being too needy, and willing went to bed at eleven.  This morning I rewarded him with a long walk down to the Creek, a steep hike down and up and along the banks of the North Fork of the Kaydeross.   Off the leash he galloped ahead and then ran past me 20 yards turned around and did it some more.  Repeat, repeat, repeat, now pant.  He never ventured too far out of sight, and came when I spoke his name. He ventured out on some rocks with me and lapped at the clear water.   He followed commands and the paths, sometimes overgrown, instinctively and swiftly.  He is proving to be a dog-of-a-hiker, which I need to be.  This is the redeeming side of dawgdom-- I realized as I rubbed his panting chest on a break sitting in the sun, amid the thick ferns of the valley.  

You can't take a cat on a hike like this, at least not since my cross-country skiing cats vanished on me 30+ years ago.  I was stuck with, and hooked on, this critter called Bentley, for better or worse, for older or younger, for wild or tame.  And my both contemplative and chaotic life would never be quite the same.

And that's the ballad of Bentley, so far.

Copyright Wayne Perras 2014

If all had gone well, and if a certain jerk of a pedestrian hadn't jumped in front of the headline act's tour bus in Boston last night, I would not be here writing this right now.  I would be already safely across the pedestrian bridge at SPAC, surging with concert-going masses 70 feet above Geyser Creek toward the amphitheater seats and/or lawn blankets that would give us our vantage points for the evening's entertainment.  I was looking forward (admittedly a guilty-pleasure alert)) to the soaring chords and howl of their hit from a couple years ago--Your Sex is On Fire-- by those headlining former Tennessee choir boys, one of whom is now biblically involved with a Victoria Secret's model, so I'm guessing that song worked for him.  But I also like the new title song Temple and the one that caught my attention lately from that new album -- Family Tree.  Even though they are almost a pop group now, I still like their sound.

In mid-August, absent any t-storms that could rock your world, one of the best places in America to see a concert is right here in 'Toga town, as I've written about many times before (and hundreds of others probably have too).  This was s'posed to be a killer triple bill that I figured to be the highlight of my local summer concert scene... and the KINGS OF LEON have done this to us here in Saratoga before, two years ago, when the lead singer went into booze rehab just before they would've come to town.  This time his brother the drummer was the casualty, as it was Nate Followil's ribs that were busted up in a quick stop that injured him instead of the freakin' nutbag that tried to either drunkenly hi-jack the bus, or get killed by it.  Maybe the bus driver should've just plowed into the wacko attention-seeker, and there would still be music happening on this night.

Think of the nasty and negatively expensive karma that spins out from this one guy's impulsive & asinine act-- thousands of people...maybe 15-20 thousand tonite alone... who would've been enjoying Kongos and Young The Giant as much or more than the Kings of Leon (according to my younger consultants), are now missing out on perhaps the most au courant concert of the SPAC summer.  I'm not likely to get the same vibe from either Li'l Wayne vs. Drake next Tuesday,  or Steely Dan at the end of August...  one too young a crowd, the other almost too old and nostalgic for my taste.  Since SPAC is a seasonal venue, it's not easy to re-schedule gigs here-- it costs the bands money, the promoters money, the SPAC vendors and employees lots of money, and a lot of work was done issuing tickets that won't be used, including mine-- Section 8, right in the middle of the arena, straight on view.  Bummer, bummer, bummer, thricefold.  The band Kongos were even supposed to be playing out of their trailer before going onstage, somewhere on the Park property, so make that fourfold. You can't re-invent a concert like that.   I wish now I'd gone to see Young The Giant separately down at Upstate Concert Hall a month or so ago.

Not only the SPAC crowd in Saratoga will miss this tour from this point on, but maybe another month or more of cities that will have to cancel their shows as well... what is the extrapolated impact of one fool's action?!  The only good thing here is I'm going to be a lot fresher for work tomorrow than I would have been after getting out of that chaotic back parking lot off Route 50 at midnight otherwise.  O well: hell's bells to the Followils and their followers, there's nothing to be done but to go with it, or in this case, not go.

On the bright side, instead of experiencing new sonic revelations and feeling visceral exhilirations, I am also NOT getting bit by mosquitoes and standing in long lines to the john after paying for $9 beers in plastic cups.   I am here in my study with a cool breeze in my face from the west-facing screens getting one more blog done, and getting ready for more music to come this month. 

Next week, after a High School Reunion whose numerical value I do not even want to contemplate, I hope to hit the Rest Fest in Troy on the way home and see some true indie bands again instead of pinning my hopes on over-hyped luxury tour-bus types.  I just heard a tune called "Faxes on a Yacht" by "Rival Galaxies," one of the 4 groups that will be there, and that song sounds like dynamite...

Till next time, this one was just a brief one...

Copyright 2014 by Wayne for WaynesWord2 at saratoga.com

Prelude-- My Life With A Sequence of Cats...

I have pretty much always had cats in my apartment or house, since college. Diring Junior High and High School, I grew up with Spooky and Fuzz-- one a grey tiger cat we found one Hallowe'en who lasted with us, and later kept my dad company, for 19 years... and the other a beautifully ruffed female tuxedo cat who turned into the prototype Russian princess, plump and vain, wanting her belly to be rubbed whenever you passed by.  Fuzz had the softest fur I've ever felt on any kind of cat, and she loved to let you stroke it.

Once on my own I had twin male cats dubbed Lucius and Rufus, the latter of whom was the only feline I ever found willing to go not only on nature walks with me, but whom actually would follow when I cross-country skied, hopping in the wake of my trail.  I was crushed when each of them respectively disappeared during my early twenties, when I rented a rustic shack in Greenfield Center.  If you don't "fix" your male cats, I learned, they are prone to taking off on their own once the dark urges strike. 

In my extended bachelor years I co-habitated with two fine and intelligent creatures named Smudge-- pure white with a touch of ash on her forehead-- and Ruckus, another female who was the perfect "writer's cat"-- perched Buddha-like on the edge of my desk, loving the clack of my typewriter keys, how quaint that seems now, in the age of largely quiet keyboards.  They lasted from my funky bohemian pad on the backside of a Nelson Ave. house where I rented, and made it well into my early family years on Locust Grove Road, when we sprouted a couple more children to join in with my stepson and wife, Melinda.  The cats had grudgingly relinquished, or rather shared, my devoted attentions to other people, babies and toddlers to follow, but never really forgave me for giving up our idyllic (for them, anyway) bachelor-with-cats lifestyle we enjoyed in town.  They enjoyed the 1/2 lot bordering on a farm, with its monster willow tree, great for climbing and perching... and they caught more mice and shrews and other small rodents than they ever would've found on the manicured eastside of Saratoga.

As with most cats, they required very little in the way of full-time maintenance-- other than feeding them twice a day, giving them water and then a bit of milk now and then, and some regular petting and low-key affection on the couch while I was reading or watching hoop,
there was precious little to worry about.  I could go about my work and play, come and go all day, without "worrying what they were up to..."  It seems so easy in retrospect.

  In my apartment I had a litter box to deal with, of course, but once on the fringe of town with the bigger yard in the first home we bought, these civilized pets would just let us know when it was time to go out, and discretely conducted their business, no muss no fuss, and we never seemed to see it.  When Smudge was about a dozen years old, however, our proximity to a very busy country road caught up with her, and the squeal of brakes and a thud one day, with a subsequent knock on the door from a distraught but conscientious driver, led me to see her prone body and blue eyes glazing over in front of me, and I sobbed for most of the rest of that day as I buried her next to the blue spruce in the front yard.   Ruckus never seemed the same after that, always skittish around me and the kids, like she didn't belong there anymore, and sadly she met the same fate, in almost the same spot, a few months later.  After that, we stopped with having cats for a spell.  We had enough to deal with on the home front with 3 boys to raise, and then a baby daughter.  Pets were a luxury we did not need at that time.

When my dad died in May of 2001, however, my sisters came up from Atlanta and Bolinas, CA respectively for the services and reception, and on a nostalgia trip down to Ravena where we had grown up, and then out in the country of Alcove and Coeymans Hollow where we'd had many friends, we came upon an old abandoned farmhouse that Kara wanted some pictures of... it was classic old clapboard, covered with vines but had the best collection of fragrant lilac bushes that late May in upstate could bring.  While cutting off a few clusters, a soul-full meow emerged from the undergrowth, and a loveable little kitten came our way-- I scooped her up and named her Lilac, and she rode home with us back to Saratoga, on my shoulder, purring the whole way.  My daughter at 3 and a half was then old enough to appreciate such a pet and Lilac became a beloved part of the household for two and a half years hence.  When we moved to our new, much bigger, more distant home in Middle Grove, however, Lilac also took off into the adjacent woods and never came back, like my male cats in Greenfield Center had done, albeit this one had been neutered.   Bella's grief was sad to behold.  A few months later, our first spring in the new home, Bella and Miles talked to me into visiting the Adirondack Save-A-Stray shelter in Corinth, "just to look."  My wife and Daryn were off on a school trip to Boston.  Well, just looking led to the inevitable.  In a raised ranch full of about 200 fee-roaming cats vying for or ignoring our attention, there was one, in a cage, who seemed smarter and more intent on getting a new owner than all the other jaded foster pets combined.

She looked a lot like my original FUZZ cat-- sleek black everywhere except for the white neck and belly, and her face had eyes that bore right into mine as we passed by, and she reached out as if to say "You gotta get me outa here, man!"  Behind her in the cage was apparently her brother, a more laid-back version, just laying there, yawning and unconcerned.  It turned out they had been unceremoniously dropped off in the driveway the night before, and had not been acclimated to the rest of the cat population yet, in this mewling cluster of unclaimed felines.  Having viewing the entire harem of furry creatures, some affectionate, some prickly, we went back and claimed the 2 we saw first as we entered, and released them from their temporary cage.  Kelsey was the female who got our attention, and Mello was the cool and casual male, and in 2004 they came home to join us, as the "two cats in the yard" that Crosby, Stills, and Nash had sung about back in the '70's. 

Flash forward 10 years....  Kelsey is still with us, now just as plump as Fuzz ever was, well-fed and handsomely rewarded for her audacious sales pitch back at the shelter.  Up until recently, she ruled the interior roost-- adorning whatever bed or piece of furniture she wanted, lounging like a Kardshian, as if her supposed beauty entitled her to eat and sleep with impunity.

Mello was always more of an outdoor guy.  The woman who ran the shelter of course cautioned us not to let either of them roam freely outdoors when we signed the "agreement" to adopt them.   "We do not save these cats just so they can become coyote food!"  she sternly warned us.  I had lived in the city and on the edge of town and in the deep country, and my cats had always been allowed to go outside, I told her, and I wasn't about to de-claw them and let them become effete.  That was not their nature, in my mind, and I was not an old lady.  She scolded me some more and we made our donation and left.

Mello came and went as he pleased for a good four years or so.  In a neighborhood of a few leashed dogs, he walked down the median with his tail held high, and galloped away safely if the dogs ever got loose and chased him.  He laughed at their dog nature.  He stayed out all night, and caught many vermin-- mice, moles, shrews, voles, and even, much to my chagrin, chipmunks and small rabbits.  He was the top f the food chain for a while, until the day when I'd heard quite a commotion overnight and found him the next morning, in shock and not moving, under the deck, his tail dis-engaged.  Took him to the vet to find out that he'd been attacked by a fox, most likely, or a wild dog, who had yanked his tail out of his socket and caused internal injuries.  Life in the wild had caught up with him.  "National Geographic" in our own backyard, I called it.  He was never the same, and his tail never rose striaght up behind him again.  A year or two later, at a time when we'd adopted another barn cat named Mika and watched her have a quick litter, he felt a bitter jealousy that he wasn't the alpha cat anymore, and also disappeared one night-- we think in a meeting with that same fox who almost did him in the first time.  Another sad passing of one very cool cat, and perhaps the male cat I'd bonded with most closely in my life.

The barn cat Mika was a reluctantly accepted gift from a neighbor, and she was at least half-feral, so wasn't allowed in the house much, mostly living under the back deck.  She, I swear, bred with a strange lynx I had seen briefly on the edge of the deck at twilight one evening... and when she bore a litter of four kittens, we named one female Minx, one male Binx (a gorgeous blondish-red cat), and gave the other two away before attaching names.  At one time, during the cruel recession, we were feeding five cats or more on a daily basis. 

Long story short, Minx is still with us.  Mika ran off into the wild-- perhaps looking for that Lynx again?-- after we spayed her, and that money was not well spent.  Binx was beloved by both my sons, but was just like Mello in that he always wanted to be outside, and never cared much for domestic affection and the life of hearth-&-home. He only lasted a year with us before succombing to the predators of the wild out back, we think.  His passing made both my sons cry, and Daryn still perpetuates his image and memory on his laptop's screen-saver.
He could've been the coolest of them all, and was the most distinctive looking of any we've owned.  I still deeply regret not getting him neutered early on, and making a domesticated male house cat out of him-- but would HE have wanted that?

So now, or at least up until May 31st of 2014, we had just the two surviving cats-- Kelsey a vintage 2004 model, and Minx, born in April 2009 as the runt of the 1st litter Mika gave us.
Minx has become the closest approximation to Smudge and Ruckus I've had, as a cat who will camp lightly on my chest as I nap on the couch, riding the slow waves of my ribcage breathing.  Like the venerated Mello and her sorely-missed brother Binx, however, she prefers the outdoor world to the comforts of indoors, aside from thunderstorm weather, or winter blizzards.  Her fur is also just about as soft as Fuzz's was.

Kelsey remains intelligent yet aloof.  She considers herself as entitled as any Millennial teen.  Her eyes are the most compelling of any non-human creature I've met, but only Daryn feels the deep bond with her as a pet-- the rest of us not so much.

Which leads us to the dilemma of this past May...

For years I've had to hear from Bella and Miles, and to some extent, my wife--- "When Can We Get A Dog??"   "Dad won't let us get a Dog!"  "I wish we'd had a Dog when we were younger..."  

I had always employed the HIGH-MAINTENANCE argument--- when we were shuttling kids to 2 or 3 different schools non-stop and following Miles's basketball exploits year-round, or I was working 60 hour weeks and Mom was doing retail work up in Queensbury, it was never even an option to consider a dog.

I also used the glib rejoinder-- 

When they invent a poop-less dog, I will allow you to get one...

Sometimes I would substitute the word "bark-less." 

For a while Bella had pictures on her phone of those little toy-dog things that Paris Hilton would fit into a purse-- no barking and apparently nothing much to poop either, except maybe little antiseptic pellets.  I thought that would be all right, until I found out they cost a grand or two just for acquisition fees.  No, not going to happen.

Then we talked about labs and collies, and I flashed back on a boxer my parents had when I was about 2 years old, and a floppy-eared beagle I loved who died of distemper when I was about 7.  Since then, I had never had one in the house, it was too sad of a memory, and we just were not cut out to be dog people, I thought.  Even though my favorite writer Jim Harrison lauded the virtues of dog ownership, I could not picture it myself.  Even though my sisters and most of my best friends had also tried to tell me how much I would love the mutual affection a dog would provide, I was never one to be swayed...

But on one fateful, weak-hearted day in late May of this year, all that changed....

(Stayed tuned for Part 2...Dog Day Acquisition)...

Copyright Wayne Perras 2014

for WaynesWord2 
 on www.saratoga.com

My life has been a constant vacillation between competing urges-- wrestling with desire to be in the middle of the madding throng... (say, recently, on the dance floor
listening to a way-loud Funk Evolution at Dango's in July, or  soon at Bailey's outdoor cafe in the middle of August, or anytime at Gaffney's or City Tavern if you really want a mobscene...), versus chilling on the homefront in the hills nine miles out.,. where everything seems green and peaceful.  It's nice to have the choice.  And on this blog, at various times, I've extolled the virtues of both possibilities.

Some urban dwellers prefer a life where staring at stars or a sunset from your front porch has no appeal, and life involves nonstop action, entertainment, partying...with little trace of nature in the picture.  Plenty of rural folk, however, could not take the pace, density or intensity of even a city like Saratoga Springs in the summer mode, much less NYC or DC or Boston.  To each his own, but I like both.

As I write, the small city is at maximum activity, and it takes three changes of a light to cross Broadway at Church Street.  Tourists and track visitors alike take the peripatetic stroll up and down Broadway and its side streets, filling outdoor cafes and whatever restaurants are within walking distance to their parked cars.  Locals know that strolling from home is simpler than driving many times.  Certainly, if you are trying to get around for real estate appointments or other forms of travel, you have to try to work around or avoid the obvious times of high traffic... like around 6 pm six days a week, when the race track crowd hits the streets-- clogging East Ave., Union Ave., Circular Street, Lake Ave... Nelson, Lincoln, Crescent, and of course Broadway especially (Route 9), as well as Route 50, which splits off from 9, going either north or south.  Today however the Bolshoi Ballet had an afternoon performance at SPAC which let out at 5 pm and clogged both Ballston Ave. heading back into downtown Saratoga (a mile of gridlock) before the track even let out.  I was trying to get to Ballston Spa and going south was no treat either, with a two-mile backup of the sort one usully sees after late rock concerts of 20,000 or more fans tries to exit all at once.  I never made it to the appointment, unforeseen logjam gridlock.
But I U-turned out of it and headed west, where the touristos and SPAC-crowd don't know to go..... it becomes rural in a hurry, and the roadrage and frustration melt away... as the scenery turns greenery.

I have some great client friends now named Benji and Robin, recently married, who just this month moved up here in a life-changing mode... leaving behind an 800 sq ft apartment near Dupont Circle in D.C. for a 23-acre organic farmstead (with 2200 sq ft house) they bought in the rustic zone I'm describing, west of Ballston Spa.   They went from walking to the subway in the steamy miasma of the Nation's capital to their chosen field of dreams where they are now learning to hitch bush-hogs to tractors and disc the soil with tillers, and collecting currants and berries of all kinds, and planning by this time next year to be on the Farmer's Market circuit themselves.

They, however, are music fans themselves, and not averse to testing how many decibels of indie music they can handle.   They liked my blog when they found a reference to Valerie June, whom they'd just seen live.   Robin and I had compared notes on music and many other topics in our first chat, and I'd had a good time trying to convince her that she and her new husband would NOT be moving to a cultural wasteland if indeed he-- a brilliant Tibetan scholar-- accepted a new position at Skidmore.   When I mentioned my early affinity for the beat poets of the '50's, she mentioned than Benji was related to one of the peripheral writers of that crowd, a friend of Lew Welch and Gary Snyder and Ginsberg and Burroughs and even Jack Kerouac himself.  It was a serendipitous match of personalities, and I gave them the pitch that, short of Boulder or Denver or the west coast itself (think Vancouver, Portland, or Seattle,and the Bay area), Saratoga might be one of the best places to illustrate the balance of downtown culture in immediate proximity to natural retreats.

A week or two after they had closed on their property, and had the requisite visits from relatives and close family well-wishers, I caught them on a relaxed evening where we could play three-way Petanque-- a French spin-off of bocci-- in the driveway near the barn, in hilarious fashion. 

I took pics of them together as we soaked our dusty feet in the cool blue swimming pool which had been an un-sought bonus to their purchase, and asked if they had sent any slightly-gloating selfies back to their friends inside the Beltway.  They looked glowingly at each other and admitted, No, not yet... and when I inquired why, they said, well, we don't really want to brag about how HAPPY we are... they wouldn't understand.

I am not saying this is a trend of any sort-- it is just a choice that happened to make these two people content.  The irony is that they had looked at multiple other homes in Saratoga proper, Ballston Spa and Round Lake villages, and the one they bought was significantly different than everything else they looked at.  They could have gone the route of "being within walking distance of Broadway" which is so in vogue right now that it constitutes about half my real estate business.  Instead, they opted for the 60's or 70's idyll-- back to the land.   They speak fondly of acquiring chickens and honey bees and maybe a goat or two, and clearing more and more overgrown acreage each year from here on.  They will be cutting firewood for the woodstove in the fall once Benji is back from Vienna,  where he will be lecturing on his specialty, the lives of certain esoteric Buddhist masters of Tibet and Nepal. 

So this to me is akin to the best of The Dharma Bums, my favorite book in my late teens-- wherein Japhy Ryder (who was really Gary Snyder) tries to convince the narrator (Kerouac himself) of the virtues of early rising, survival skills and agility in the wilds of the High Sierras and Rockies, when Jack would have rather been in the jazz dives of Denver or San Francisco, drinking red wine into the wee hours of morning, and partying with the rebels and hedonists of the beat generation, whose grandchildren now populate the downtown post-midnight revelry of Saratoga Springs to varying degrees of frivolity, seven nights a week.  The scene is there if you want it to be, but if not, it doesn't take long to get out to the QUIET, to re-charge. 

I'm not saying this as a shill for the Chamber of Congress, nor as a Realtor giving you the hype on why you should live here, I'm just alluding to the reasons I do.

Peace, and thanks for reading...
Wayne, on the outskirts of Saratoga, 7/31/14

As I began to write this, we were into early June, and as of 4 o'clock on a Sunday afternoon-- when most upstate towns are in a semi-somnolent state, the Broadway Saratoga scene was bustling and jammed like mid-summer already.  Anyone transported here who didn't know the town would wonder-- "What holiday is this?  Am I missing something?" Or,  if they knew about SPAC they might wonder if there was a major concert going on that made the downtown population swell like this.  No, it is just another late spring day in Saratoga Springs, and this is how the local inhabitants and random passersby hang out here.

The previous weekend, in late May, the Dave Matthews Band appeared for a two-day stint at SPAC;   in less than a month PHISH would be appearing for the 3-day 4th of July extravaganza.  But there is nothing big going on at the State Park south of town today.  The third race of the Triple Crown the Belmont) was yesterday and I'm sure the horsey-crowd was partying hard last evening, but this is the aftermath of that, and the real horse people don't show up here till mid-July. 

Skidmore College students have largely left by this time of year, and local high school kids haven't graduated yet, so they weren't contributing to the hordes downtown I wouldn't think. But there is a magnetism of our town's primary Boulevard which draws the traffic of both motorists and pedestrians, to make it feel like a thriving small city on just a "normal" Sunday in the Northeast's hippest enclave.


But sometimes, for music at least, we have to venture a bit farther, and out of our comfort zone, to see some truly good stuff.   So, about two weeks ago now (as I write this)  that it was MY turn to Get Lucky, as Daft Punk sang, and I won some tickets to see The Head and the Heart-- a six-piece Seattle band of some note-- down in Clifton Park, at Upstate Concert Hall-- which I hadn't been to since it was called Northern Lights, however long ago that was.

Memorial Day was the end of a 3-day weekend heralding summer's imminent arrival of course, but for me was a Monday when I still had to work.  "Your day off is my day on..." I used to say early in my career, volunteering to give up my holidays like a dutiful bodhisattva.   Sunday had involved 8 hours of sun doing yard work so I could easily have passed on the freebies and stayed home in boring middle-aged fashion... but with the help of some post-supper coffee rallied to make the trip 20 miles south or so.  From where I live west of Saratoga you can bypass the Northway and head south on Middle Line Rd to Route 50 and swing onto Rt 146A to make your way to the unlikely shopping plaza location that houses perhaps the best concert venue in Saratoga County, other than the seasonal glory of SPAC itself. 

We got there after the opening band had played already and the parking lot was full-- certainly an anamoly for any other shopping plaza in upstate NY on a holiday Monday evening.   We passed through the burly bouncers and ID-checkers at the 1entry, who seemed bored that the crowd that evening was so civilized and un-rowdy.  With the stage straight back, most of the standing room area was jammed full even though there was no sign of the headliners yet.  I'd read the place could hold a max capacity of 1400 but it looked liked maybe half that to me.  Not hard to grab a beer at the U-shaped bar in the middle of the place... not a heavy-drinking crowd, apparently.  A random survey told me that more than half the audience was female-- not the average punk- or rage-music aggregation which would've given the bald/buff bouncers more conflict to deal with.

My exposure to the band-of-the evening was via the two radio portals I keep talking about on this blog-- WEXT, a sponsor of the event and source of my free tix-- and WEQX, the independent Vermont station which procliams itself "the true alternative." I had purchased the 2013 release from The Head and the Heart a few days before-- a Sub Pop production dubbed "Let's Be Still."  Out of the 13 songs thereon, three had grabbed my attention the most-- the killer "hit" was the infectious SHAKE, while "Another Story" was quite different as a beguiling break-up tune, and I'd been seduced while writing one night by the last song on the CD-- "GONE" which built to a swirling quasi-orchestral climax.   I can't say I was knocked out by the album overall-- nice harmonies, but more ballads than upbeat tunes-- not my favorite mix as a rule.   Hence, I didn't feel like a fanatic fan going in, and in looking around the Hall that night, it seemed I was outnumbered by those who knew all the words...

But once onstage, "From Seattle, Washington..." as Master of Ceremonies Chris Wienk intro'd them..."The Head and the Heart!"-- they got right to it.  Some groups have their big radio tune batting clean-up-- 3rd or 4th song in to their set-- or worse yet, they save it for the very end.  Here, the tune I'd come to hear was batting lead-off...

"SHAKE" starts out with a big, firm TOM TOM beat like a call to a POWWOW, a ritual dance, or a HOEDOWN, then comes the bouncing pogo-stick bass line that buoyed the crowd instantly... me included.  With a great set of lyrics concerning a brief "one-day" stand, it became a natural sing-a-long in a hurry:

                                      "And the memories we've maaaaade

                                               Will never be lost, no... oh!

                                        And the look on your face--

                                               We both knew the cost

                                        But the wind, yes the Wind keeps


The mass of those in front of us, much closer to the stage, was just a swelling clot of bobbing heads (and hearts, come to think of it)) as the ode to evanescent love payed out, culminating in the last chorus, in which the narrator/composer/singer asserts his indelible imprint on his lover's life:

                                   "Even if it was a mistake, I can't forget your face

                                     Even it was just a day, you won't forget the man

                                             Who's making you SHAKE!    

and the song revvs up to orgasmic fun and fury as we all mutually REPEAT:

                                               Who's making you SHAKE!

                                               I'm making you SHAKE

                                                            You SHAKE

                                                I'm making you SHAKE!!!

What a great sweaty climax on the first five-minute song, I thought.  Good start, and it eliminated the suspense of waiting for it.

Next song up was called "Ghosts"-- a jaunty tune about death and moving on.  From their stage presence and tone, my wife notes, "This group sounds happy..." as opposed to the subject matter, I'm thinking, nice contrast.  The third song, however, was a sweetly mournful one called "Another Story..." which I took to be the less-contented side of failed romance.  Along with SHAKE, this is getting radio play locally on both Exit 97.7 and WEQX, which is kind of surprising in that it is a piano-driven ballad...with a lilting upper-range chorus, and Charity Rose Thielen's haunting violin lines.   This song has grown into one of my favorites from the CD, beautiful and deep.   The "AHHHH-YOOOOOO" choruses were like a signature yowl from this group's harmonic palette.

The next song of their set was familiar from their first CD-- update singalong called
"Lost in My Mind..." a title I can relate to all too well:

Put your dreams away for now,

I won't see you for a while,

I am lost in my mind,

I get lost in my mind...

O my Brother, your wisdom is older than me--

O my brother, don't worry, don't worry about me...

Then comes the tom-toms again, heralding the blue-collar hymnal section, which the crowd took to more enthusiastically than any church-goers would:

How's that brick layin' comin'??

How's your engine runnin'??

Are your hands gettin' filled??

Won'tchu tell me my brother??

"Cuz there are STAAAAARRRRR's


(the whole place singing this, surprisingly harmonic)

...& we can start

MOOO-Vin' forrrr-ward...

And the communal singalong had once again raised the hairs on my arms and gave me a few moments of goosebumps-- not bad for a suburban shopping mall experience on a Sunday night.

As I sipped a beer and soaked in the next few songs, with opening lines like:

"There's no such thing as love"  and  "I wuz burned out and lost..." the spell diminished a bit, but that was all right.  Can't be ecstatic all the damn time.  I scribbled my typical garbled bar-notes as I watched the enticing Ms. Thielen saw and slither with her violin bow..

 "Echoes of long-gone 70's bands I remember... Renaissance, with Annie Haslem playing the sultry front-lady part, or a group called It's A Beautiful Day, who had a quasi-FM-hit with a song called White Bird... "

Then suddenly it was time for the "last tune" (i.e. before the encore) which turned out, after a somewhat dreary start, to be a song worthy of closing time in an Irish bar-- "Rivers and Roads", to wit:

"A year from now, we'll all be gone.

All our friends will move away.

And they're going to better places.

But our friends will be gone away...

Nothing is as it's been.

And I miss your face like hell.

And I guess it's just as well.

But I miss your face like hell.

Rivers and roads, rivers and roads,

Rivers till I meet you."

It was moving, as a live tune, though it had left me cold on the album, first time. And not too many rock groups have the nerve to finish off a set in a capella fashion.

The encore sequence began with a solo acoustic version of the title tune, "Let's Be Still" by (I'm guessing at the name here) Jonathon Russell.  But the more exciting tune to follow started slow and mournful too--

I wish I was a slave / to an age-old trade,

like riding around on rail cars

and workin' long days...

Lord have mercy on my rough 'n rowdy ways...(repeat)


And it turned out to be that so-familiar tune that came out a few years ago, and already feels a hundred years old... "Down in The Valley."  The recurring Tom-Tom drum picked up the pace again, as the singer's voice gains enthusiasm and traction:

I am on my way, I am on my way,

I am on my way back to where I started--

California, Oklahoma, and all the places

I ain't never been to--

But down in the valley, with

whiskey rivers,

these are the places you will

find me hiding.  These are

the places I will always go...

And I thought that fine tune would be their last, but there was one more.  It was the final cut on the new CD, and it had attracted me at my desk when I first listened to it-- dubbed simply "GONE."   As with the dynamics of the live concert itself, the tune was almost orchestral and non-rockish, and yet grew with intensity to hit a collaborative climax that was unexpectedly complex... and the words, when I read them reflect the name of the band, indeed:

Whether it's your head or your heart

And you're too damn scared to start

it's in your mind and your soul

But you just don't know where to go

It's in your head and your heart

And you're too damn scared to start

It's in your mind and your soul

But you just don't know where to go

Now you're Gone

and so were they, abruptly, Gone. 

The sad thing was, we had Meet and Greet rights for the band afterwards, but didn't connect with MC Chris Wienk quick enough to take advantage of that once we slipped outside for some fresh air and came back in.  I wouldn't have know what to say--  "I wasn't wild about the new album right away, other than Shake and Gone...but man, in concert you were freakin' GREAT..." would've been an inappropriate (duh) fan reaction, so at least I didn't embarrass myself by saying something stupid.   We rode home happily and listened to both CDs in the car, having picked up the first one with the strange front cover at the merch table.  Having studied the lyrics and recalled the feeling of the live concert itself, their music became more amazing and intelligent to me, with lots of hooks and triggers that now enchant me.  I would love to see them again. 

PS-- Since seeing this concert I caught BECK at MassMoCa on June 24th which was amazing and also gave me a new appreciation for his mastery and breadth of catalog over the past 20 years... more on that some other time. 

Sorry the delay is so great between posts... will try to speed up production...now that Saratoga is in full summer bloom.  


The Slowest Blogger in the World

Wayne Perras,  for WaynesWord2

Saratoga Springs, NY

For reasons I won't get into here, I've not published a bit for this blog in 5 months...I know.
It's time to start again. I had to resolve and get beyond some old karmic debts of in my rear view mirror and get squared away in my rejuvenated real estate business at 38 High Rock Ave (where I've been since late last September, 2013)  before I could indulge in the relative frivolity of writing about music and culture and places I love... Also had to simply get through a brutal winter, which, for a lot of us, proved to be an elemental challenge to the practice of real estate. At one time, say late February or March, if I'd had a Twitter account, I'd have declared: It's hard, up here in the North Country, to get any business rhythm going unless you're a snowplow operator... though that seems nostalgic and somewhat whiny in the retrospective mirror, now tha, in late May,t the temp is in the 70's, finally. Still, the massive man-made snow-hill dubbed Mount Middle Grove in the Town Park only recently receded fully into the ground as of May 5th.

But I had to put my head down and work workaholic hours, making a New Years vow not to drink a beer or a glass of wine from Jan. 1 until I felt I was out of the woods, so to speak, in my life and career. While others of my age and ilk took off on vacations, my family and I stuck it out in the north country this year. My world was limited on a north-south axis from Delmar to Hague, and east-west from Troy to the Sacandaga region. Saratoga is the fulcrum of all that, and for most intents and purposes, I didn't leave town much in early 2014. It's a hundred and two days into the year as I write this, and I'm just now looking up. Recovery doesn't come to the passive.

I didn't blog about music as I wasn't really seeing any-- once again WEXT was my audial pipeline to what was going on...the quirky pop tune "Southern Sun" from Australian duo
Boy & Bear was one of the radio highlights in early spring, in my car or at home... but otherwise I was just watching a ton of basketball on TV in my office during evening hours, as my only allowable narcotic and relaxant.  Mostly paid attention to the NBA this year, although the NCAA Tourney was a grueling crapshoot during March Madness too, and I saw a few exciting High School games featuring teams from Spa Catholic, Hoosic Valley, Lake George, and a killer bunch from Scotia, who amazingly won the Class A Hoop Title for all of NY State.
(I still may try to recap all that on another website, but not here,)

There is no hangover from a hoop addiction, however, so I was emailing & texting clients and prospects till 11 or 12 at night and resuming at 5 or 6 in the morning. I became the real estate fanatic I had been at my peak a decade or more ago, and let my light shine out from under the bushel as much as I could until the spring market arrived.

Since then there have been a few "watershed" events... the first was a phenomenal concert at the renowned TROY MUSIC HALL on April 12th, featuring two of the few, if not only, SOLO local performers I would be inclined to pay to see-- SEAN ROWE, and MARYLEIGH ROOHAN. This was perhaps the only time in my life I will think far enough ahead to grab front row seats in a major concert hall-- and it scored me big points with my wife, since I designated it the "modified, officially revised" date of our Anniversary.
In that she is a huge Sean Rowe fan, and virtually melts at the sound of his raspy baritone, this was one of the better gifts I'd come up with during our recent years of austerity, with two boys in college and a daughter with extensive taste still at home.

We had seen SEAN blow away the room like a one-man tornado at the Caffe Lena last February, a little over a year before, and the chance to hear him in his own hometown, during his first historic performance in the acoustic elegance of this Second Avenue 1920's HALL was a notable treat indeed. 

I won't launch into a review of the concert, belatedly, here, but Greg Haymes wrote a pretty good one for the Times-Union the next day.  He said, however, that Rowe had performed a few too many cover tunes.... though he admitted that the Richard Thompson epic guitar workout -- the infamous "1952 Vincent Black Lightning"--was a highlight of the evening, just as I had witnessed at Caffe Lena as the final sweaty climax at Lena's-- the tornado referenced above.  In addition to that, Sean played a great growling, guttural version of The River, which more than a few Springsteen fans appreciated, and also the Howlin' Wolf tune "SPOONFUL" in which he sounded like the white grandson of the Wolf himself, and whicI felt might have been my personal favorite, since I love the Cream version I heard first, in junior high, before I had a clue what it meant.  Spoonful is about addiction of all sorts-- everything from sugar to smack, from booze to "tea", is mentioned, with the baddest of them all-- a woman's precious love-- the kicker to them all.  Rowe sang with intrinsic knowledge of that kind of yearning and withdrawal that cannot be faked.  To hear true blues like that in a classically-timbered enclave was remarkable, and jarring.  No whiskey-swilling or beer-bottle singalongs in this venue.  

In addition to Sean's music-- with his precisely cross-patterned duct-taped guitar still in tow-- and his formal attire (lol) of flannel and black tee-- his between-song patter was fluid, well-timed,  and natural.  Whereas at Lena's he seemed to be more confessional as to the woes of being on tour a bit too long on the road, away from his wife, he seemed to be in more familial mode, closer to home, and regaling us about his parenting skills--

"Sometimes as a dad you have to use a little "reverse role modeling," he told us slyly..."I was out for a walk with my 7 year old daughter, and said, why don'chu go over there and give that dog a KICK, and she wouldn't do it, so there ya go.  Some useful parenting info to take home with you..."

Stories of a former favorite nun at a Troy school ensued-- "She called all of us boys "Master" when she read the roll call-- which was fine for me--"Master Rowe" but I felt bad for my buddy Bill Bates when she got to him..."  He let that one sink in while he fiddled with tuning his guitar.

...And, since we were at an event sponsored by and a Benefit for Ia Rural Land Preservation group, he told stories of his early days spent in the back-country of Rensselaer County told with deadpan gusto: "I guess I coulda used a little more guidance...since my way of learning about nature was putting cricket heads on top of grasshoppers, stuff like that..."

Needless to say, he was quite at home there, like a natural vaudevillian on that stage.

MaryLeigh Roohan-- who we'd seen give a great CD release party at The Parting Glass in Saratoga earlier in the winter-- was poised and note-perfect in her opening act that night.  Whereas Rowe wielded his acoustic (plugged into his amp, whom he introduced as "his band") like a weapon he used for emphasis, MaryLeigh strums a strat as a harmonic counterpart to her exquisite voice, on all her well-crafted tunes, which showcase her resonant voice, and radiant upper ranges.  She took full advantage of the legendary acoustics of that venerable hall-- and then humbly proclaimed it to be by far the highlight of her career so far.  At 22 (or maybe 23 by now?) she seemed destined for such a stage, and though a bit coy, protesting her nervousness, delivered her goods with confidence.  We saw her and her boyfriend later at a boutique-tavern down the street a couple hours later and she was still clearly glowing from the experience.  I know she converted a ton of new fans that evening, and pleased those that knew her already.  When she hit the high notes of her best tune yet-- "BABY YOU SHOULD KNOW"--  I'd Give You The Wooorrrrrlld If I Could... it was goose-bump material, angelic.

We came away with a whole new appreciation of downtown Troy after strolling the streets for a while in the post-euphoria of the concert.  I must admit, the esoteric beers we drank that night-- 102 days into the year-- tasted so good it was tough to stop with just one or two...but still had to drive the 40 minutes or so back home to the western edge of Saratoga's vale.  A concert event like this was well worth the motoring.


Once we got into May, our KW Realty Saratoga office had a few people (including me) sign up to take part in what was dubbed the TreeToga Festival, sponsored by the excellent group Sustainable Saratoga, in conjunction with the DPW Department of Saratoga Springs itself-- headed by Skip Scirocco . It was a ritualized tree planting ceremony-- led by retired EnCon Forest Ranger and longtime Saratogian Rick Fenton, and Tom Denny, as head of Sustainable Saratoga.  Our group, after a bit of speech-making and instructional guidance, was assigned the planting of three trees-- 2 tulip poplar (Liriodendron) saplings and a larger  on I was told was basswood (actually an American Sentry Linden--(Tilla Americana)-- across from The Saratogian office building on Lake Ave, just below the Police Station.  The idea was to re-populate the in-town street-scape with new arboreal species to replace some of the dead or diseased trees that have been removed in recent years.  Shade, beauty, and oxygen production are the obvious benefits, and providing native species to counteract some of the invasive varieties was part of the picture too.  Although I showed up for a pre-scheduled afternoon listing appointment later that day a bit scruffy and dirty under the fingernails, it was still worth it, although I did not in fact win out on the listing.

There were a lot of cool people there that day, parents with their kids, older retired folks who had grandchildren living in the area, and lots of young urban professionals who had consciously chosen to live in Saratoga in the past decade, plus some who had grown up here, moved away, and had come back.  Tough I'd been here since the late 70's, it was the first time for me to participate in something like this, and I commend the city for budgeting for the trees, many of which still have their tags on the branches, as they start their re-growth in this wonderful small city.


One last watershed event of a family sort was a couple weeks later, when my wife and daughter and I ventured early on Sunday May 18th to Syracuse to witness my son's graduation from LeMoyne College.  This was a defining watershed event for me, as Miles had felt the same tugs and distractions that I had felt at college-- the same temptations to quit and go back later, or maybe take a year off, or transfer, or whatever-- but he stuck with it on graduated "on time", as I've been told is somewhat rare these days.  I had been supportive but somewhat nonchalant during his career there, but his last semester, coinciding with my workaholic phase in early 2014, was his most grueling in the study of Information Systems at The Madden School of Business.  I had talked him off the ledge on a few evenings when he was facing multiple all-nighters to get classwork projects, papers, and final exams completed in time to "walk the stage" in the cap-and-gown with his friends and classmates.  It was harrowing like most worthy endeavors and I applaud him and his classmates for completed the 4-year cycle-- shout out to Keaton Woods-- his long-time teammate from Catholic Central-- John Rogan, one of his good friends from the Saratoga area, and Jamie Patchett, his lovely girlfriend from a fine family up in Hague on Lake George.  You (collectively) did it!  Your future awaits....


SARATOGA SYNOPSIS--- May 2014---  Quick snapshots:

To move beyond the personal to the Saratoga-centric, a lot has changed and taken shape since I last wrote on this blog---- among the most notable--

SAVE SARATOGA has indeed fought off the dragon of Vega-style Gambling from the city limits, and defeated the siting of the state-anointed Casino within the City limits.   More on what this means, and what challenges remain in this realm, on another occasion.

The Pavillion Hotel has been un-shrouded of its winter-long plastic-wrap cocoon and completed on 30 Lake Avenue...a beautiful monument in the downtown landscape... on the site of a now-long forgotten Mobil Station... right alongside the venerable Parting Glass Pub, still there.

The Crowne Plaza Hotel is framed and towering on Congress Street, a block from Broadway on the westside, also nearing completion later this year...a Bast-Hatfield Company project.

The Northshire Bookstore and Criterion Bowtie Cinemas are now anchoring fixtures on the cultural and architectural downtown scene, and fully dressed-out.

15 Church Street--a low-key restaurant facade-- has been tastefully created out of a longtime brick shell, just behind the Post Office, close to Broadway...also Bast Hatfield, with architectural design by John Muse.

More to come...!!!

(Wayne is back!)

Take care, see you soon...

So much going on, good to have a lull-- "What a lovely day to be lonelay." as Broken Bells sing. For me the Saturday before Christmas forms such a day-- not too many demands from the real estate public, nor current clients. Everyone shopping or otherwise occupied. A day to stay home for me. A day to lay back, contemplate and plan and stop being a Type A, to breathe deep instead. Take a day off from being court jester in every meeting; or conversely a calm counselor to nervous or uncertain clients. This is when musing about (and listening to) music can come to the forefront as I have the house largely to myself.  I could write about The Saratoga Casino controversy that is brewing, or about what great movies are showing at downtown's new Bowtie Theater... but for now I will stick with my impressions of a MUSICAL LIST recently compiled by WEXT--  my favorite FM radio station, as most of you know from this blog.

MUSIC NOTES... and Reflections on "The Top 500 Groups"

As I write this, WEXT has just concluded a week-plus run of broadcasting their choices for The Top 500 Bands in History.  I could go on and write a book at length about my reactions to that-- mostly eupohoric or at least good, but some stingingly bad, and some just ugly.  Let's just say that a list that includes  Asia, Bread, Kansas, & The Trans-Siberian Orchestra well ahead of Sly & The Family Stone, Smokey Robinson & The Miracles, Stevie Ray Vaughn's Double Trouble, and The National-- just to name a few-- clearly implies that they did not ask MY opinion.  Thankfully I was not listening when they played TSO,  so didn't barf in my car, or office.

But the good outweighed the bad.  I could elaborate for pages here but I'm already aware my blogs are mostly too long to tolerate.  Start with the WEXT (97.7 FM) Top Ten--

Predictably # 1--  The Beatles    

Surprisingly #2-- Led Zeppelin

Falling to ...#3--  Rolling Stones

Intriguingly #4--  Pink Floyd

Quizzically #5--  Queen

Resoundingly #6-- The Who

Underrated @ #7-- Jimi Hendrix Experience

Maddeningly #8--  AC/DC

My #1, to them #9-- The DOORS

Rightfully #10-- Nirvana

  There were only two groups in the Top Ten -- Queen, and AC/DC -- that I could not agree with, nor stomach,and in fact neither would be in my Top 100.   I can understand that they have huge fan bases, and had great stage shows in their day, but that is not enough to warrant Top 10--  Dave Matthews Band meets those criteria and ended up down at #163, much to the chagrin of fanatic son Miles, and me.  And I'm sure the impassioned Phish fans were irked or indignant at their boys being ranked #205, also, but those folk would be most likely listening to WEQX  during such a countdown anyway.

I could rave a bit about how great the other 8 bands in the Top Ten are, but that would be a celebration of the Obvious, which I will leave to others.  The Doors and Led Zepp I've already labelled as Rock Gods previously, and I could also testify ad infinitum about how much I loved the godhead Jimi, or the second band I ever saw at SPAC, early Pink Floyd.  But some other time...

There are other bands that I would've considered for Top 10 inclusion, which meant the most to me during my lifetime, but  showed up much further down the Exit977 list.  They would include these--

(in no particular order on my part, but  showing  'EXT's rankings):

#13-- Derek & The Dominoes (Clapton & Duane at their mutual pinnacle, geezus....)

#16 -- U2   ("The Joshua Tree" a 1987 masterpiece album/ and career high point)

#17 -- Credence Clearwater Revival  ("Proud Mary" a Top Ten song for the early me)

#19--  Neil Young & Crazy Horse  (Their " Rockin' in the Free World" Best SNL rock guitar  act ever, kudos to Frank Stampinato & the timeless Neil)

#22--  Cream   (Rock Gods of '67-'68-- they were widely revered by those who knew)

#24--  Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young   ("Tin soldiers and Nixon comin'..." O-HI-O...")

#26--  Red Hot Chili Peppers  ("Give It Away" a mind-blower first time I heard it)

#28-- The Police  (liked their late 90's production more than early 80's)

#32-- Radiohead   ("Kid A" a revelation when my first webmaster Eric Baker turned me onto it, year 2000)

#37-- Santana  (Top 10 for me, as a recording band and live act both)

#40-- The Allman Brothers Band  (Top 5 for me)

#41-- Dire Straits    (1978, a good story with that one)

#42-- Deep Purple   ("HUSH" is a Top 10 song to me)

#43-- Jethro Tull   (really old days here)

#55-- The Animals (primordial Eric Burdon, great stuff)

#57-- Steely Dan  (back to my hoop days, radio on the bus rides...)

#58-- Talking Heads  (1983 Tour blew my mind)

#66-- Smashing Pumpkins (among best of 90's, to me)

#69-- Buffalo Springfield  (ominous line: "Somethin' happening here...)

#72-- The White Stripes (still learning how good they were)

#78-- King Crimson (perhaps the heaviest stuff I heard in HS)

#82-- Steppenwolf  ("Born To Be Wild" a Top 20 all-time tune too)

#83-- Frank Zappa & The Mothers of Invention (Carl Landa might make them #1!)

Digging further-- these would not be among my Top 10 candidates-- except for possibly  DMB or Blind Faith-- but maybe otherwise would almost all be in the Top 100 for me-- yet I was pleased to see them included:

#109-- The Four Tops  (among the best of Motown in my youth)

#117-- George Thorogood & The Destroyers ("I DRINK ALONE!" --a fun phase,lol...)

#129-- The Youngbloods  ("Love One Another Right Now" -- still gives me pause)

#132-- Sam and Dave  ("I'M A SOUL MAN!!!"  Nothing quite like their original)

#139-- The Zombies  (still sound really good many years later)

#141-- Beastie Boys  (appreciated them more after they were done)

#142-- James Gang  (o man Joe Walsh was way cooler BEFORE The Eagles)

#143-- Isley Brothers  ("Whoooose That Lady?" one of the classics)

#147-- Blind Faith  (a legendary session, but only once...iconic music on 1 album)

#149-- The Black Keys  ( rare whiff of this century on the list- a very cool swagger)

#150-- Canned Heat    ("On the road again..." a buzzing beauty of a song)

#157-- Funkadelic  (Including George Clinton I presume?)

#163-- DMB   (those who have seen the band LIVE know how ridiculous this is)

#182-- Mountain  (largely forgotten, look up "Nantucket Sleighride" sometime)

#185-- Little Feat   (o man when Lowell George was still alive...sweet band)

#195-- Prince & The Revolution (the Purple Rain tour alone qualified him...)

#202-- Fine Young Cannibals (my wife & I both loved them courtship days...)

#207-- Sublime  (great name for a band that only seems greater with time)

#211-- Foster The People!... wow that was quick...recent history pops up...

Next to #212-- Captain Beefheart!!  Eccentricity of an earlier era!!  Great combo!!!!

#215-- Spencer Davis Group ("I'm A Man, Yes I am, & I Love ya so...!")

#216-- Roxy Music  (especially "Avalon"-- beauty in the 80's...)

#219-- Kings of Leon  (hope they tour this way again, we missed them...)

#237-- Phoenix  (maybe the newest group on the list, see my prior blog...)

#239-- Florence & The Machine  (see last September's SPAC blog...)

#250-- New Order  (nasty dance music in early 80's...back of the Metro)

#253-- Jr. Walker & The Allstars  ("SHOT-GUN!!"  for that song alone they make it)

#259-- Counting Crows  (1st Sat Nite LIve appearance: "Mr, Jones!"...awesome)

#260-- Human League  (see number 250, ditto)

#284--  Living Colour   (Vernon Reid & his friends, not the Wayans Bros. TV show)

#286-- Blues Traveller  (John Popper's harmonica on "But Anyway"--omg)

#298-- John Mayall & The Bluesbreakers  (this group had Clapton in it...)

#313--  The Chambers Brothers  ("TIME HAS COME TODAY!")

#322--  Cowboy Junkies  (for Margo's voice ....and her brother's "Blue Guitar")

#328--  Smokey Robinson & The Miracles  ("Tears of a Clown")

#330--  Sly & The Family Stone  (one of the hippest black bands of my youth)

#335-   The National    (I'm a recent convert, but loved "Blood Buzz Ohio" too)

#338--  Stevie Ray Vaughn & Double Trouble (one of Best I've ever seen live!)

#343--  Return To Forever  (surprise jazz-fusion inclusion--loved them @ 1 time! Chick Corea, Al DiMeola, Stanley Clarke, Lenny White!)

#353--  Strawberry Alarm Clock (one hit wonder: "Incense & Peppermints"-- but what an amazzzing single...)

#365--  Weather Report  (mid-70's instrumentally mesmerizing...Joe Zawinul & Wayne Shorter, acolytes of Miles D.)

#382--  Rare Earth  (my hoop friend Billy Van Alstyne's favorite band, c. 1970...)

#392--  The Style Council  (Paul Weller's accompaniment to my mid-80's despair)

#393--  The Seeds    ( "and We named it Rock N Roll"...nastiest ueven beat EVER)

#401--   Men At Work   ("Who Can It Be Now?" Colin Hay's high voice was everywhere for awhile...)

#416--   Government Mule   (Warren Haynes great in any setting, but this band is HIS)

#435--   The English Beat  (vastly underrated: at least two phenomenal albums I loved)

#439--   Yo La Tengo  (amazing in retrospect, 3 decades of output...see prior blog...)

#446--  Rusted Root  (saw them warm up for Santana at SPAC years ago...my boys still remember that, and they were pretty young... )

#448--  Everything But The Girl  (soundtrack for great &/or sad romance, o yes)

#449--  Massive Attack  (obscure to some but everything I hear of theirs is good)

#460--  Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five (You had to be there, early 80"s!)

#464--  Average White Band   (mid-70's/college, "Pickin' Up The Pieces" was playing everywhere)

#469--  Sugar Hill Gang   (see #460 above...it all blends together in dance halls...)

#478-- Culture Club  (England in 1983, very popular there for several minutes...)

#479-- Daft Punk  (USA via France, 2013, very ubiquitous for most of this summer too...)

#481-- Tedeschi Trucks Band  (Derek Trucks and some horns makes this 11-piece one to watch, and his wife has a great, unique voice, a sultrier Bonnie Raitt)

#484-- Soft Cell  ( an 80's flashback, brief on the scene, like #s 250 & 260, above...)

#490-- Hold Steady  (loved that tune about Summer...singer's voice frantic & smart)

#493-- Big Audio Dynamite  (Clash split-off I liked as fat dance music, late 80's??)


You get the idea--just in reviewing the print version of this list, I'm rampant with opinions and memories of where I was when I heard each of the above... and a lot of great groups that did not make the list...


Vampire Weekend--  out of all the millenial groups of the last decade, I would put them in the top three with Black Keys and Arcade Fire, in terms of likely greatness and staying power... certainly more output than Foster The People, for instance...

Hot Tuna  (please, where is Jorma?  Where is Jack Cassady?  You kidding?)

Atomic Rooster,  ("Death Walks Behind You"- great rock tune... I might be the only one who remembers this bunch)

Spooky Tooth   (my boyhood friend Fred loved this band, heard Chris Wienk mention them...)

Moby Grape,  (my friend Hank STILL loves this San Francisco band best)

Miles Davis Band, Bitches Brew era... (a room full of assembled geniuses)

Joe Cocker's Mad Dogs & Englishmen  (with Leon Russell!  Best version of "Cry Me A River" of all time, and a slew of great tunes on their live double album-- also Best version of "She Came In Thru The Bathroom Window" by The Beatles)

Ten Years After  (Woodstock performers, why not on the List?)

Paul Butterfield Blues Band   ( searingly good live act, famous on college circuit in 70's)

Screaming Trees  ("I Nearly Lost You..." a 90's classic)

The Wallflowers (Jacob Dylan)   ("One Headlight" is a classic)

Rage Against The Machine    (surprising oversight-- Tom Morello still big)

The XX   (one of my faves from THIS decade we're in)

OUTKAST  (one of my faves of early 2000's-- "Bombs Over Baghdad" one of the most volatile tunes of all-time, and prophetic...)

Big Head Todd & The Monsters  (How'd they miss this one?!  I treasure & love their classic: "Bittersweet:)

Mahavishnu Orchestra  (John McLaughlin at his arena band peak, saw them twice)

A Tribe Called Quest   (bad oversight)

Morphine  (really bad oversight--still played heavily in my house & car)

Treat Her Right  (the late great Mark Sandman's other band...)

Everclear    (Art Alexakis?  He was pretty cool for awhile, wasn't he?)

The Minutemen  (an amazing punk trio I discovered at WSPN in the 80's, leader/guitarist D. Boon died too young, in 1985)

Mungo Jerry   ("In the Summertime, When The Weather if fine..."  great jingle)

Sugar Ray   ("Fly" alone would qualify)

Digable Planets  (hip-hop poets extending a fine but little-known beatnik tradition)

Fishbone  (a memorable performance on SNL way back when....like an African juju ritual)

Renaissance (singer Annie Haslem, I believe, a siren singer of my youth, via WRPI)

Fairport Convention (also a staple of WRPI, late '60's into 70's)

....and I reserve the right to add others to this list, as I think of them~


And who would I remove, to add the above--

Glad you asked.  Here are the bands that I either don't recognize, or make me cringe, who ARE on the list, and would need to be removed, if I was music dictator of this world:

Captain & Tennile  ("Muskrat Love??"  are you f'reaking kidding me???)

Sugar   (???) 

Soup Dragons (?)


April Wine

English Dan & John Ford Coley   (kidding me?)

Twisted Sister  (I could do without this genre altogether)

Poison  (ditto)

Scorpions (ditto again)

Judas Priest (ditto times 3)

Iron Maiden (never into it)

Kasabian  (just don't know them?)

Dead Milkmen  (ditto--must have missed this one)

Orange Juice  (no idea)

Nickel Creek  (I'm not a country music guy, presume this is?)

Night Ranger  (ugh?)

Bread    (please, get 'em off)

The Penguins  (?? No idea who they are)

Toto   (no comment)

Heatwave  (don't know who this is)

Zephyr   (ditto, no idea)

Trans-Siberian Orchestra (I've already expressed my revulsion)

The Silver Convention  (no impression of this band at all-- did I miss something?)

Autograph  (same comment as above, sorry, no knowledge of them)


Among the more Famous acts that I would axe... (if I had to make more room...)

Joan Jett  & The Blackhearts  (never could stand her "I Love Rock'N Roll", sorry)

The Ramones  (sacrilige to some, but I never liked them, especially "Sedated")

Jefferson Starship  (loved the Airplane, hated the Starship)

Asia   (80's pomposity and predictability at its worst)

The Boomtown Rats  (because of how much I detest their celebration of a serial killer's mindset:  "I Don't Like Mondays..".)


S0,...to the stellar anthologists and archivists Dave Michaels & Chris Wienk & KTG & Aja and all... thanks.  All the deejays on this station know what they are doing...  in fact, on the day I was wrapping up way too much writing on this subject, Wayne Henning was playing Vampire Weekend and Timbuk 3--( "the future's so bright, I gotta wears shades..."), neither of which were on the list.


Some final commentary:

As someone born in the 50's. I should be pleased, I suppose, that the entire Top 10 (aside from Nirvana) dates back to when I was growing up-- the Golden Age of Rock and Pop, so to speak.  I guess there is something to be said for "passing the test of time" and becoming timeless, ironically. 

But it struck me more than once, while listening to the countdown, that there were many groups on this list (like AC/DC or Queen or Iron Maiden or Nazareth or the despicable KISS) that are played on commercial "Classic Rock Stations" like PYX-106, and I am glad NOT to hear them on WEXT, as a rule.   Same with Bad Company, Heart, STYX, Thin Lizzy, and Cheap Trick.

There are other tunes that one would normally only hear on specifically "oldies" stations like "Great 98"-- the WTRY-kind of stuff I started out with, but now seems as dated as shag carpeting.  Some of it is noteworthy, much of it is not-- I love The Supremes and The Four Tops and The Impressions, in small doses, but do not want to hear Boston or The Guess Who on a regular basis, and certainly not Bread or The Carpenters, who thank Gawd did not make this list.

When I issued my reaction to the ambitious list of the Top 977 Albums of all time, I similarly felt  there were NOT ENOUGH NEWER artists included-- that list also tilted heavily to the past-- 50's thru 90's-- and not enough into the current century. 

I feel THIS list was more inclusive and less prehistoric, and I went thru the whole 500 to filter out the groups that are from year 2000 till the present tense... or at least are still performing these days.

Here's my take on these more contemporary acts ( in descending order on the list):

Radiohead  (32-- formed in the 90's but still going strong, and getting better)

The Black Keys   (149-- the highest of any purely millenial group!)

Queens of The Stone Age   (152--and gaining respect)

Dave Matthews Band  (163-- nuff said)

Arcade Fire  (192-- and rising!)

Phish  (205-- many think should be higher)

Foster The People   (211-- too unproven to be above some of these others)

Kings of Leon   (219-- heading higher)

Grace Potter & The Nocturnals  (233-- Vermont-based faves around here)

Phoenix  (237-- with a bullet)

Florence & The Machine  (239--a torrent of yin energy)

Mumford & Sons   (244- climbing each year I believe)

Arctic Monkeys  (256-- but Rolling Stone thinks they're better than this)

Snow Patrol  (285)

Ben Folds Five    (319)

Band of Horses  (331-- "Laredo" is a recent killer tune for me)

The National (335--  this band is destined for greatness, & a higher ranking)

Ben Harper & The Innocent Criminals  (362-- best slide guitarist still going?)

The Heavy  (374-- "How Ya Like Me Now?" a wicked hook tune, even as KIA theme-song)

The Lumineers  (377-- Denver dudes winning over fans in a big way this past year or 2)

The Head & The Heart   (378-- wouldn't have been on this list a year ago, moving up)

Nada Surf   (379--an 'EQX group I am trying to grasp)

Death Cab For Cutie  (380-- quirky but catchy, and Benjamin has moved on...)

My Morning Jacket  (383-- Jim James will only get more masterful as he proceeds...)

Meyer Hawthorne & The County  (398-- I didn't see him in Albany but KTG raves about him so I believe her)

Franz Ferdinand  (410--  When 4 Down covered "Take Me Out" I loved it again)

Mazzy Star  (425-- atmospheric voice and compellingly diffferent sound)

Fleet Foxes   (428-- this group has grown on me since listening to WEXT)

Neutral Milk Hotel  (437-- same comment as #379, still learning about this one)

The Shins  (438-- not a fan of James Mercer's histrionics, except in Broker Bells)

Nortec Collective   (444-- Josh Norec's great Latin show has turned me on to this)

The Lone Bellow  (467-- noted in my last blog as an awesome harmonious trio)

Delta Rae   (468-- great southern spunk)

Daft Punk  (479-- two French dudes in Robot Gear making great dance funk)

Delta Spirit   (480-- like the kick of this band)

Tedeschi Trucks Band  (481-- extolled their virtues elsewhere)

Hold Steady  (490-- likewise, vastly underrated here)

Dawes  (494-- an LA band that is growing on me )

Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings  (499-- glad she survived her cancer scare)


So, by unofficial count, roughly 38 of the Top 500 are repping the period of the past 13 years, as oppose to the prior century... and some of these bands clearly started out before the Year 2000 (Phish, Ben Harper, and DMB, for instance).   I am glad for the inclusion of these groups, however, while others unlisted yet, like  Alt-J and The XX, Vampire Weekend and Alabama Shakes,  are still announcing their presence, and will no doubt be on future lists.

In general, I was intrigued by the monumental nature of the LIST, but in thinking about it realized that in the upper echelons-- it was heavily skewed toward a love of BRITISH imports-- the Top 6 acts are all from England!!  Until we get to Hendrix and The Doors and Nirvana, there are no domestic, American groups!   Hmmm...  The British Invasion still prevails. 

I love and admire The Beatles-- especially in terms of their prolific output, diversity of sonic palettes, harmonies, and wide range of styles-- but Led Zeppelin and The Doors did a lot more for me in terms of excitement during my formative years, shall we say. 
Robert Plant and Jim Morrison, along with Hendrix, remain the most influential voices in my psyche for this lifetime, so I guess I should be happy they are all in the Top Ten.

Thanks for bearing with me on all this-- you must be a fellow fanatic if you read this far.

Take care and stay tuned... more to come before the Year 2013 is over!

Copyright Wayne Perras 2013

PS-- one musical oddity on television I wanted to comment on:  There is a commercial now playing on national TV, advertising a video game for the new PS4, apparently.  It uses the late Lou Reed's voice singing his song  "O What A Perfect Day"  as it shows gladiators whack each other with swords, and race car drivers knocking each other for a loop, as they serenade each other.  Great stuff, and I happened to see it for the first time on the day when Lou Reed's death was announced on the news.  Talk about receiving royalties after death--  I hope his widow Laurie Anderson is getting the residuals on that deal, and am sure Lou is smiling somewhere to see his sardonic lyrics going bigtime commercial!

That's it-- finally...as I went on too long again, I know...



Sorry to have been derelict in my duties as self-appointed music blogger, but here I go:  a blast on a stay-at-home Sunday to make up for my slackerdom.  I am on the road so much of each week that I listen to the radio several hours a day, also including time at the office, often to the chagrin of my co-workers.  There are two distinct categories of song (or instrumental music) that make me reverent--  the UPBEAT, PROPULSIVE quality that sets the mind and blood racing, or the CONTEMPLATIVE, BROODING sort of tune, which chills one out, and sometimes GIVES you chills as well.  I will try to exemplify each category with my favorites of this past calendar year...and the best of them, like the first on the list, combine equal parts of each, if that is possible.  This list is gleaned mostly if not entirely from either WEXT 97.7 FM (Amsterdam/Troy NY), or WEQX 102.7 FM (Manchester, VT.), or both.

At various times in the past year, any one of these tunes might have been considered My Favorite of the moment, but I admit to being fickle in that regard, and my opinion is subject to sudden change at any point...


#1:  "Holding on For Life"  by Broken Bells--  My current fave single, which is weird for me because it combines two men's voices whom I've never admitted to liking individually-- James Mercer of The Shins (whose most recent tunes I loathe), combined with someone channeling Barry Gibbs of the BeeGees, a disco throwback which would have made me nauseous in my hardcore jazzfreak days in the 80's, but now sounds amazing in this new context.  And if in fact someone can tell me that the falsetto chorus of the title line is NOT Barry Gibbs  (or a true sample thereof), I will be even more amazed. (Does Danger Mouse sing that part--?  I haven't heard...) This tune is the # one melody & lyric stuck in my head right now like the needle is skipping, over and over.  I can't wait to hear it again: with its swirling circular synth lines, ostinato bass, and lamenting lyrics ("what a lovely day...to be lone-lay...).   It propels me forward as it gives me hope in the face of any despair I may be feeling.  Isn't that a lot to ask of a song?

#2:  "Reflektor"-- by Arcade Fire--  on the other hand, is pure propulsion. Fueled by a rumbling, bubbling-over conga section from start to finish, it reminds me of the offbeat background sound of "Sympathy For The Devil" back in the day.  And the hypnotic lyrical redundance on the title phrase holds its appeal for the full seven minutes. When performed on Saturday Night Live back in October the stage visuals were eccentric and riveting as well, and it's been heavily played in our house, and the car, ever since. 

#3:  "Trying To Be Cool" by the French band Phoenix, still remains in my Top 5 of ear candy for 2013, and their appearance on SNL helped get me hooked on this tune, as did "Reflektor".   It's Electronica you can dance to, with that Euro-accent floating atop it all-- definitely as Cool as a short tune gets-- just wish there was an extended version on the WEXT version, as it seems to last less than 2 minutes, and seems to lack a closing chorus.   I've heard 'EQX play the extended version, or maybe it was on David Dye's World Cafe, where it blended into another tune via a spacy jam... that's the kind of stuff I love.

#4:  "SPOTLIGHT" by the Nashville-based band dubbed Leagues, is another Top 5 tune for me that features skidding, emphatic guitars over a brisk rhythm track that sets off arcs of electricity in my nervous system while I'm driving.   Love the singer's voice-- urgent in the upper ranges:  

 "Never gonna letchu go/
 I'm never gonna letchu GO!/ 

This tune has been out since summer, and hasn't gotten old on me yet.  Radio is now playing their second single, "Walking Backwards," but frankly it doesn't grab me as much as the kinetic pop of Spotlight. 

#5:  "OHM"  by Yo La Tengo--  released in early 2013, this seems like a timeless tune
with a signature groove by a New Jersey-based trio that has been recording since 1986. Still sounds fresh, transcendent, in fact...  I remember them being in the NEW bins during the seemingly final days of vinyl during the late 80's... they have been making music  as long as I've been in the real estate profession, in other words. Their spiritual knowledge and sound seem to get better with age, which we might all aspire to as well.  Ira Kaplan, Georgia Hubley, and James McNew-- I am re-discovering you, years later. I could imagine this song as a soundtrack for galloping a horse across an idyllic flat plain while in full zen meditation mode.  I love it, and would love it more if it were half an hour long jam--it would be the rock version of a Ravi Shankar raga.

#6:  "Fitzpleasure" by the British group ALT-J was a ubiquitous, quirky hit from the past summer, which compelled me to buy their CD, AN AWESOME WAVE... good name.  I found that I liked the tunes
"Tesselate" and "Breezeblocks" just as much as this first intro-to- America hit of theirs...  It's laid down with a jittery and totally original percussion track which at one point is nothing more than a drumstick on a soda bottle, combined with a mudswamp alligator bassline shaking its tail through the song, making for a great basis.  On top of that, singer Joe Newman's brittle surrealistic phrasing makes them perhaps the most unique and original group on this year's list.  Hence:  ALT-J wins Newcomers of the Year, as far as I'm concerned, even though the record was actually made in 2012. 

#7:   "Don't Swallow The Cap" by The National, also inspired a CD purchase.  Their album "Trouble Will Find Me" proved to be a bit on the dreary side in terms of lyric content and mood, but this song qualifies for being on the UPBEAT side due to a wickedly snappy drum underlayment and the perfectly syncopated monotone of singer
Matt Berninger, despite the strange resignation of his words:

Tiny bubbles hang above me;
 it's a sign that someone loves me.
I can hardly stand up right.
I hit my head upon the light.
I have faith but don't believe it.
It's not there enough to leave it.

Everything I love is on the table;
Everything I need is out to sea...
I have only two emotions:
 dreadful fear, and dead devotion. 
I can't get the balance right.

I'm not alone, I'll never be...
and to the bone, I'm evergreen...


This is a band I have to see LIVE at some point, please.  Worth a trip to Brooklyn, I guess, as I don't believe they are coming upstate anytime soon.

#8--   "We Own Nothing"  by Stellar Young, of Albany, NY.   Along with the much-acclaimed Sean Rowe, and Saratoga's own Maryleigh Roohan, each of whom I've seen and written about this year already (and below, again) .... this group was the best of the local crop that I became familiar with this year-- (and in that sense I am assuming that PHANTOGRAM has ascended to a higher state than being known as a Saratoga-grown band, now that they have a snippet of their song featured for a
few seconds during a Gillette shaving commercial (!) on national TV...and are receiving worldwide acclaim from their touring).

What's different here is that Stellar Young is a true rock GROUP-- a five-member bunch who all take a role in the music, not just a leader and sidemen, or a duo, or a solo act.  I really hope these guys make it as big as Phantogram, and then they will have in common the fact that a name change preceded their fame.   (Stellar Young used to be called The City Never Sleeps.)   Go back and see my post about their performance at The Tang, back in July, for more on the live band.
   This song noted above was the best of their new CD of 2013:  EVERYTHING AT ONCE.   John Glenn's shimmering voice surfs on top of exultant chunky Rhodes piano chords and then it becomes a drum-driven anthem.   His lyrics are about being attentive to the present tense above all else... and insist that ALL we own is the present moment.  Amen.  This was in heavy rotation on our car speakers even when it wasn't on the radio, a soaring motivational song with big hooks.

#9--   "Workin' Woman Blues" by Valerie June, is from her debut album, I believe,
called PUSHIN' AGAINST A STONE.   This song starts out with her playing an intricate filigree'd lick which seems like a prelude, and then kicks into the nastiest matter-of-fact blues-of-our-time that you've ever heard.  Her band is dynamite, and the trumpeter in particular gets some nasty little moments to himself toward the end, to compliment the snappy rage of Ms. June's guitar.    You should check out the YouTube clip of her performance on late night TV-- Fallon or Letterman I think-- I sent the link to my own sisters and they both fully approved.

#10--  "Downwind"  by Sean Rowe also showed up on national TV this past year-- and this song is what he played-- a freaking whirlwind of its own, the way it starts out at a loping pace, almost nonchalantly, then slowly speeds up like a guy running as he's being hunted, and spins more furiously into a guitar-shredding frenzy at the climax...which is mesmerizing both instrumentally and in terms of songcraft.
It doesn't just END, it kind of implodes on itself and is spent, with a twerky synth spiral,  leaving the story ominously unfinished.   In person, at the Caffe Lena, he played the guitar part solo, but on the album "The Salesman and The Shark", and on the Jimmy Kimmel show, it was local guitar hero Chris Carey, I believe, who delivered the goods just as dramatically.  Sean's Rowe's 2013 record is moody and thickly bluesy otherwise, but this tune flies him into a zone of intensity similar to his days with Mudfunk.  (And on that note, if you get the chance-- check out his 2008 version of "Poppa Was A Rollin' Stone" with just him and his percussionist tearin' up that late 60's tune by The Temptations.)

Honorable Mentions for 2013, in the UPBEAT Category:

Daft Punk, w/ Nile Rodgers & Pharrel Williams:  "Get Lucky";  
Jake Bugg, with both "Lightning Bolt" and "What Doesn't Kill You";
 SusanTedesky-DerekTrucks Band, "Made Up Mind"; 
Dr. Dog, "Broken Heart";
Milo Greene, "1957";
Leanne La Havas, "Is Your Love Big Enough?";
Kings of Leon, "Temple"
Delta Rae, w/ Lindsay Buckingham: "If I Loved You"
Lissie, "Does Anyone Love Anyone?"

OK, now for a separate category:


--  "Baby You Should Know" by Maryleigh Roohan was probably my favorite of the year in this genre, although some other great ones by national acts have given her competition since this enchanting demo was first released.  Now that we have the recorded CD version, enriched by cello at a critical point in the song, it's even more luminous, but her voice is clear and heart-breaking in its sincerity as she sings a rare ode of love in this blues-ridden world.   Her album release party, at The Parting Glass in Saratoga, and then later at The Linda in Albany, were packed affairs of devoted fans, and featured some torchy upbeat numbers as well.  More on her soon...

#2--   "Dust to Dust" by The Civil Wars is the other end of the spectrum, a slowly- harmonic, almost gospel-esque dirge for the end of a love affair.  This plus their other current "hit"-- "I Wish You Were The One That Got Away" form a funereal tandem that is somehow wickedly compelling, and  addictive.

#3--  Similarly, the downbeat beauty of "All Things At Once" by Tired Pony grabs me by the heart every time, with a simple, mournful refrain:
"O  I'd love you...better than him"   sadly sung over and over as a chorus, not as braggadocio, but as a resigned outcast.  Killer tune, and brutally sad.

#4--   "Somebody I Used To Know" is a re-make of that recent smash by Bon Iver, but now covered, even more effectively, by a group called Army of 3.   Here the female perspective takes charge from the start, and seems more authentic, plaintive, and less quirky coming from her than the guy who wrote the song, who seemed a bit like a stalker in the aftermath of an aborted romance.

#5--  "Heavy Feet" by Local Natives-- an L.A. band, not local to the northeast, despite their name-- a phrase I used alliteratively in 1980, lawding our "latent local native talent" even back then, in The High Rock Review-- but it applies everywhere, it seems.  This band, like Fleet Foxes a few years ago, makes harmonies achingly cool again. Their CD is dubbed "Hummingbird."  So far I like everything they've done.

#6-- "Love Has Come For You" is performed as a duet by Steve Martin on banjo and my long-distant beatnik girlfriend (before Paul Simon stole her away), Edie Brickell. 
With a song and subject matter that might fit into a pure country station, WEXT managed to give it enough airplay to make it a staple, and now a beautiful standard as well.  Kudos to them for bringing it to our ears, and attention.  Edie's voice is still a sweet, twangy, treat.

#7--  "Bleeding Out" by The Lone Bellow proves them to be in the same category as The Civil Wars, except that their three voices seem to get along quite nicely, as opposed to foretelling divorce and tragedy, despite their equally sorrowful subject matter.   I love the irony that this southern-grown alt-country choir-trio is working out of Brooklyn now, not Nashville, and finding fame.

#8--  "Million Miles"  and "Mercy" both by TV On The Radio are  seductive shuffles and sultry tunes by a group that I loved in the UPBEAT category a few years ago, when "Golden Age" first came out.  Lead singer's voice reminds me of a milder version of Andre 3000.

#9--  "A New Life" by Jim James, is a soothing, lilting song from the softer side of My Morning Jacket's great guitarist, who I saw spew a firestorm of new psychedeliac rock this summer at SPAC.  His solo CD was grandly entitled:   REGIONS OF LIGHT AND SOUND OF GOD... pretentious...yes... but it delivers a whole new sonic quality, so yeah, it works.

#10--  "Untitled #2" by Sara Bogran is a song I want to slip onto this list, by virtue of the fact that when I heard it the first few times I had to stop and say, "What was that?  Wait.... WHO was that?"  And this is where the playlists posted on WEXT come in so handy... I could look her up and find that it was a locally-recorded demo from the station's private archives.  This girl-- from Amsterdam, I think?-- is going to be great, and this instrumental piece already is in that category.

Some More Honorable Mentions I Must Listen To More Closely:

"One Man Army"  John Brodeur;
"Pure" by The Lightning Seeds;
"Penitentiary" by Houndmouth;
"Light Passes Through Her" Blue factory;
"In The Waiting Line" by Zero 7.
"We The Common" by Thao & The Get Down Stay Down
"Shake" The Head & The Heart.


That's it for now, I finally gave some credit to musicians who've impressed me before the end of the year, and when possible will hit you with more musical meandering in 2014

Copyright Wayne Perras 2013


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Wayne Perras

Born in Hartford, CT., but from age 5 grew up in Ravena, NY, till graduation from RCS High as valedictorian in '73. Small-town America upbringing--safe and wholesome but you had to find your own excitement. Lots of sandlot sports and one basketball court downtown-- radios constantly playing-- AM Top-Forty tunes were heavyweight classics now. WRPI added later for musical expansion. Lots of books, magazines, & old school input before computers. Attended Colgate U. on scholarship for 2 years, mid-70's. Left school w/ 3.57 avg. to become a writer and travel the country like Kerouac. That was a big mistake in retrospect, could've used the degree later. Came to Saratoga in 1977 and liked it just fine-- much more stimulating even then than my hometown. Helped edit and publish a magazine called The High Rock Review, 1980-1983. Lost money but tried to celebrate "latent native talent." Read my own bad beatnik poems of the day, sometimes with musical back-up, in bookstores and once at The Tin Shop, a blast. Sold solar products during the first wave of green energy: hot air panel systems, batch heaters, and custom sunrooms. Did a long stint of college radio (WRPI, Troy 1978-1982, WSPN, Skidmore station 1980-1992) as a volunteer d.j.-- jazz, rock, funk, R & B, fusion, electronic, etc etc. Until I had kids, that gig was fun. But having kids has kept me connected with new music for the past twenty years anyway.

Procured real estate license in 1987, met my future wife Melinda that year as well, and we've been together since 1988. First child Miles born Jan. 1992, life changing experience for me. Second son Daryn June 1993, equally amazing in his own way. Daughter Bella born late 1997, a whole different kind of charm and intrigue. All three a challenge and a revelation in their own right-- as a former solo bohemian, I love now having a family.

35 years now of living in Saratoga, and coming up on 25 years of practicing the profession of real estate in this area. Have sold homes from Stephentown to Lake Luzerne, from Glenmont to Queensbury, but Saratoga County and the vale of Saratoga Springs in particular are my focus and zone of expertise. I follow the market with the long-view of a history buff, and the minute-to-minute analysis of an MLS fanatic. But this blog is more of a generic reflection on Saratoga life, and why it's worth living here.