Here it is in all its glory.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Saturday, December 10, 2011
A Long December
Every year, around this time in December, I begin humming that familiar tune to the Counting Crows’unforgettably somber and thoroughly winter-themed ditty, “A Long December.” I know that most people our age used to save the lyrics of this sage song for their AIM chat statuses (excuse me, they were called “away messages,” weren’t they?) after Christmas had passed and before New Year’s eve, just to hit home the notion that it had, indeed, been a long December. For one reason or another (okay, go ahead and out me as the melancholy girl I am) I always began to feel the feelings meant to evoked from this song only just a week or so into the beloved Christmas month. I’m not sure why, but every December always seem to be a “long” one of sorts for me; this year that sentiment rings more true than ever.
I think a lot of it has something to do with my over-zealous holiday expectations. Each year, come September, I get so absurdly amped up for the upcoming autumnal/winter holiday festivities that I begin to create countdowns, and checklists, and reminders for others of holiday-themed happenings (I think) they should know about. I really get myself so adrenaline-crazed by the middle of October, that I’ve unknowingly and unintentionally self-sabotaged my own holiday cheer and completely exhausted myself mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually… you name it, and it’s exhausted by this point. By the time Halloween rolls around, I’m usually so anxious over the idea of it already being over that I can’t even live in the moment, enjoying the absurdities of Fear Fest as I’m watching it. Halloween comes and goes, and all that’s left behind is a trail of wrappers, a candy-induced coma, and some residual nightmares from watching “The Exorcist.” Then it seems I’m one, done, and onto the next one, fixating on the wonder that is Thanksgiving, that beloved no-pressure-just-show-up-and-eat day--- making plans, drafting shopping lists, preparing dishes so far in advance I totally miss out on all the joys of autumn. By the third week in November, I’m already so disgusted by the idea of pounds of mashed potatoes and stinky turkey gut gravy, that I can barely make it through Thanksgiving day. From this moment on, my heart is set on Christmas—the main course of America’s holiday season.
In the past, I typically accomplish so very many Yuletide activities by the first week in December that my angst and impatience gets the best of me, and I force my family members to open the gifts I've purchased them early, just to bait down my insatiable hunger for voyeuristically and vicariously enjoying the act of watching others’ happiness in moments of receiving. Call me crazy, but I actually hate getting gifts, hate the thought of people watching me expectantly as I tear the wrapping paper, hate their guilt-inducing presence I feel as they await my reaction to their gift. I truly would love nothing more on Christmas than to sit back and enjoy the ambience of giving and receiving going on around me, looking on with content as my younger sisters react so genuinely to surprise gifts. I almost immediately become morose when the gift opening is nearing its finish, feeling that distinctive feeling of Christmas already passing by, with only New Year’s eve left, my least favorite of all holidays; a time designated to get inebriated, dress in sparkles, have your certain someone to smooch at midnight, and enact a fully-thought out list of resolutions all in the same godforsaken night. (Mainly I truly disliked this holiday due to the fact that, once I got to high school and started to receive New Year’s eve party invites, I was repeatedly unable to “achieve” any of those aforementioned holiday goals since I consistently told myself my body was undesirable and that I couldn’t have the normal life of every other 17-year-old girl). I also always dreaded writing down any resolutions because I knew each year they would read exactly the same: 1. Lose weight/ get skinny, 2. Continue acting, in hopes of one day becoming a famous actress, and 3. Fall in love. To say that I was bummed come January 1st each year is a kind understatement.
Back to the beginning here—I certainly feel that it has indeed been a long December thus far. December rolled in like a freight train, ready to pulverize me and the humble contents of my entire existence off of life’s tracks and into the expanse of an untraceable, off-the-grid “grey” area. As I’d mentioned in my last post, this fall hasn’t been the easiest for me, and it all seems to be reaching some sort of cataclysmic climax here in the first half of December. I won’t go into the nitty gritty pits of explaining why and how I’ve hit a personal rock bottom (or damn near rock bottom) level, but I will say it has already been a long, exasperating, depressing, unfair, unexpected, regrettable, damned December with regards to my health, my personal life, my home life, and my perpetual state of being down and out and unemployed at 24. The bad news is, these tumultuous past 10 days have left me feeling a bit dizzy with confusion and drenched in an overall feeling of being lost somewhere I’ve never travelled, left alone without a compass or map to ease my heightening anxiety. The good news, through all of it, is that all this “real” real-life drama has been distracting enough that I’ve actually yet to do anything at all having to do with Christmas. I’m not even slightly bogged down by the usual sense of overwhelming nostalgia/de ja vu/longing patina of years past and general dissatisfaction I typically self-inflict around Jesus’ birthday (uuhhhh). My head, though very troubled and saddened and perplexed, is currently clear enough to not fall into the trap of Christmas consumerism and Menorah-made materialism wherein impulses purchases are made on December 23rd and bags of Reese’s “trees” are passed around, leaving everyone with a “bowl-full-of-jelly” belly. I do wish I had a little more optimism to get excited about my own Christmas traditions, but one can’t force these things. I’m just not sure if I can rally myself around for all the cheer and social gatherings this year. Instead, I’ve been focusing my attention elsewhere, attempting to volunteer at several different places, reading and writing more than usual, getting in touch with old friends, travelling by myself, posting blog entries that are far too long, etc.
So, as the Counting Crows so hopefully rendered, “It’s been a long December and there’s reason to believe, maybe this year will be better than the last.” I hope this year will be better than the last, for everyone out there. And I’d really, truly love to hear from anyone about anything Holiday related—a horror story, a bone to pick, a fond memory, a plan, a tradition, your New Year’s resolutions, or just anything having to do with your current state of affairs as winter is headed your way. Please?
Friday, December 2, 2011
The Top 100 Rock Guitar Solos of All Time--19-10
19.) "Since I've Been Loving You" (Led Zeppelin)
Not typically ranked as Jimmy Page's finest solo, I can't help but be awed by his instinctual sense of emotion and blues grandeur in "Since I've Been Loving You." Like his majestic solo break in "Stairway to Heaven," the solo in this fits the song surrounding it like a velvet glove. Like another blues epic coming up later on this list, Page shows how blues guitar is able to tap the deepest depths of human sorrow with its moaning. groaning bends and scales originating from the darkest jungles of Africa, the cradle of humankind itself. In addition to being devastatingly heartbreaking, I also think this is easily one of Page's most technically brilliant solos. He goes to the end of the world and back in his minute-plus break, again proving that the best guitar solos provide a world all of their own, in which to lose oneself and perhaps never return. I love that after such an intense solo, which feels like the end of the world, the song keeps chugging on for another three minutes. God, what a heavy song. His ringing guitar in the last verse is such a great backdrop for Robert Plant's pleading screams from the deep.
18.) "Beyond the Realms of Death" (Judas Priest)
What an absolutely earth-shattering solo. Like "Since I've Been Loving You"'s solo, this one hits us unaware. That kind of raw power cracks me over the head every single time I listen to this Priest classic. The reason it's ranked above "Since I've Been Loving You" is because I find myself even more speechless after this absolutely brilliant cry from the darkness towards a God that looks ever away. It is almost incomprehensible that he would do so, but where else would the angry beauty of this solo come from if he didn't? We are left on our own eternally, and this is the ultimate existential solo I know of. The held notes in the beginning are so irrevocably shattering. There are very few singers who have that kind of ability to pierce the silence. In a way, perhaps it is only through the strange, inhuman quality of musical instruments that we are able to truly to pierce the veil between heaven and earth. But no matter how high we reach, we can never make it beyond the realms of death. I love how resigned to this the ending notes are, and that final pick scrape into eternity and oblivion. Gorgeous in a way I can't put into words.
As great as technical proficiency is in the second solo, it pales in comparison to the stab at the heart of the Divine that is the first solo in this metal anthem.
17.) "Sweet Child o' Mine" (Guns N' Roses)
My least favorite thing in the world is when radio stations fuck up the perfect structure and narrative of Slash's solo in "Sweet Child o' Mine," Guns N' Roses's biggest hit (yeah, fuck you, "Welcome to the Jungle), by shortening it. Why would you do that to such a flawless thing? I truly do not understand. Does the normal person really dislike guitar solos that much? I guess so. That is a disturbing thought. What makes this great is the clear division between the two halves of the solo: the melodically impeccable clarion calls of the first half; the down-and-dirty, wah-drenched rock-out of the second half. More than anything else, this precisely depicts a band that can write both beautiful love songs and raunchy odes to drugs, hookers, and cheap alcohol. A band with dazzling musical ability crippled by reckless self-destruction. They have an ear for writing tremendous pop music, and yet are tarnished by a prissy narcissism that is willing to spit on the face of its fans (yep, that's Axl).
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Slash is perhaps the single most melodic guitar player out there. He knows how to write solos that are hooks in and of themselves like no other guitarist in rock music history. The melody of the intro part of the solo is actually stronger than the rest of the song itself, which is saying something in a song this big. Yet somehow Slash is able to keep up this image as a kick-ass soloist, despite this ability to create lines of heartbreaking beauty. As I said earlier, the solo in "Child" depicts this dichotomy perfectly. (And God, the other guitar parts in this song? Stunning. 'Nuff said.)
16.) "One" (Metallica)
Like a few other songs on this list, "One" is a lengthy rock epic with many solos in it. They progress from delicate to brooding to flat-out insane. According to legend, Kirk Hammett struggled over the solos in this, and though he ultimately wasn't completely happy with what he cut on record (much like this song is itself a hugely ambitious yet failed epic, in the vein of Apocalypse Now or Moby-Dick), he came out with something that is truly special in the world of heavy metal. I just love how unique the solos in this one are. The tone on the early solos is so unlike anything else in Metallica's oeuvre, with an almost completely clean tone lacking in distortion, almost like a bird warbling. The song's gimmick (if you can call it that) is its slow build-up from a soldier lying alone in his bed, wounded horribly from a war, remembering almost nostalgically the battlefield, amidst ringing guitar lines and a beautifully melodic first solo (one of Hammett's most beautiful, along with the first one in "Fade to Black"). Slowly, the pieces of a gradually building puzzle follow into place: drums, James Hetfield's relentless yet gently droning vocals, and the eventual introduction of distorted guitars in what suffices as a chorus in "One." The haunting lyrics build on top of each other, creating a musical environment where doom lies just out of sight. Hammett's second solo is not quite as delicate as his first, ending with a tapping lick that melds seamlessly into the shrill-drone distortion of ...And Justice for All's rhythm guitar production. Layers of chunky, angry guitar build on each other, as Lars Ulrich's drums slowly kick into machine gun-mode. Finally, the song breaks loose (yet remains so incredibly tightly controlled) with James Hetfield's incredible machine-gun riffs that echo Ulrich's drumming. This is one of the most staggering moments in any metal song ever. Hetfield's guitar kicks loose, breaking free from the bonds of the drumming, creating a kind of infernal rhythm all his own, and into this spiraling vortex Hammett delivers the solo of a lifetime, again trying to match the speed and intensity of a machine gun that crippled the song's narrator. The combination of the hell-driven velocity of the rhythm section with Hammett's amped-up angry solo is phenomenal. If only they hadn't used such a tinny production on ...And Justice for All, and given Hammett's guitar some real oomph, this would probably be even higher on the list.
15.) "Eruption" (Van Halen)
Rightfully famous as the solo that sent legions of would-be guitarists into their bedrooms to practice their youths away trying (in vain) to imitate the never-before-heard virtuosity of Eddie Van Halen. Coming as it did on Van Halen's first album, Eddie's unadorned solo was a kick in the ass to every single guitarist who thought they had chops. Though I'm sure many old-timers will disagree with me in favor of Jimi Hendrix's "Star-Spangled Banner," I think that "Eruption" is the single most original guitar solo that ever came out of rock music. Nothing kicks your ass quite as hard, that's for sure. The combination of Eddie's absurdly loud and distorted (yet still dazzling) "brown sound," the pure speed with which he ripped through previously-thought-lifeless blues licks that had slowly been sapped of their vitality in the corporate rock era of the '70s, and of course, the infamous finger-tapping technique of the last half of the solo was enough to shape a generation of guitarists. After this, everyone wanted to be a shredder. Though shredding has its roots in many things, from the electrical insanity of John McLaughlin's blistering runs with the Mahavishnu Orchestra to the undeniable skill of the black jazz guitarists of several generations back, shred guitar, for all intents and purposes, begins here, at ground zero. Though he was the most imitated guitarist of all time, no one (and I do mean no one) could capture the legendary cool of Eddie Van Halen. He made it all seem so effortless. And I think what comes across most if you've ever seen or heard him play is that he has a hell of a lot of fun doing it. People who locked themselves in their rooms, practicing ten hours a day to try to imitate Eddie lost sight that that is what rock and roll is all about--being cool and having fun. Eddie never lost sight of that. And that's why he remains one of the most influential guitarists of all time to this day. I don't think any guitarist again will be able to replicate the pure shock value of "Eruption" again.
14.) "Tender Surrender" (Steve Vai)
While most of Vai's ballads are focused on the spiritual search for something bigger, for a higher power, "Tender Surrender" is concerned with the earthy sensuality of human lust. And oh yes, what a sexy solo. Of course, this is not the hollow, spiritually fruitless lust of Vai's '80s peers we're talking about. This is the lust of a man who truly loves his woman, and expresses this through the act of sex/guitar solo. I love this clip, which is from the Alien Love Secrets DVD, which has Vai playing along with the tracks from the CD as he normally would, to help those writing guitar tab books get all the notes right. I must say, there is no sexier guitar player to me than Vai. Just watch the video and you'll understand.
Right off the bat, Vai starts in a different mode than normal from his other seventh songs. His playing is effortlessly laid-back, jazzy, in the primal groove of seduction. Even amongst these slow passages, we can see that Vai's technique--especially his attention to the subtle details of every single note he plays--is leagues beyond his contemporaries. Who else has such a feather touch on their guitar? No one. He knows precisely when to add a hint of vibrato, a tiny, muted fill, or a dynamic change. Every single note Vai plays has a purpose. At 2:00, the lust starts spilling over the brim of Vai's cup, as he amps up the intensity with a series of stuttering bended notes. Vai's secret in this song is that he was able to find just the right setting on his amp and with his effects to be able to gradually change the tone from almost perfectly clear to blazingly distorted by slowly raising the volume knob through the song, allowing him to create a seamless build-up, mimicking the sexual act itself. And that is really the heart of the song. It's all about that build-up.
People tend to make fun of Vai's faces when he plays, but I can't see playing a song like this any other way. You really have to feel your playing to be able to express the music you hear in your head. The floodgates are loosed at 3:20, as Vai naturally lets the song carry him onward into some stunning legato licks that build up to the orgasm and, finally, the after-sex cigarette. The best part of the song is how, right after the climax, he brings that raw passion down seamlessly back into the jazzy vibe of the beginning. Only Steve Vai would've thought of that, I swear. What the hell is the ending and what does it mean? That isn't for me to answer, my friend. but we all know of sex's dark cousin--death.
As mentioned earlier, this isn't a solo with stand-out moments. It must be judged for the sum-total of its experience, the trip from attraction to oblivion. There is truly nothing else like it outside of "I Want You (She's So Heavy)."
13.) "All Along the Watchtower" (The Jimi Hendrix Experience)
Along with the Stones' "Gimme Shelter," one of the most iconic songs about the confusion and chaos of the '60s (as opposed to its [false?] sense of peace and love) is Jimi Hendrix's cover of "All Along the Watchtower." Bob Dylan's enigmatic original is transformed into a rock anthem right off the bat with Jimi's thundering chords, symbolizing napalm raining down from the sky onto his brothers and sisters. But what is most enthralling about Hendrix's version is the otherworldliness of the guitar solo. It exists in and of itself, far off from anything else. It elegantly uses four distinct sections to take us on a journey of the soul: from the relatively straightforward yet passionate delivery of the first section's bluesy licks, to the psychedelic swells of the second, to the ecstatic wah-pedal pleas of the third, to the fateful and all-conclusive ringing riff of the final section. Perhaps no sectional solo has the sense of purpose and wonder that "All Along the Watchtower"'s has, and certainly none is quite so original and breathtaking. Truly this must have been the sound of the gods back in 1968. To me, this is Hendrix's most beautiful solo. While he often had more psychedelic moments, strictly speaking, he had a tendency to veer into self-indulgence because of his notoriety as a sort of musical shaman. But in "Watchtower" he reins in his more chaotic instincts to deliver a solo so precise and so stunning that I would call it the best guitar solo up until that point in rock and roll history.
12.) "Far Beyond the Sun" (Yngwie Malmsteen)
While "Black Star" is Yngwie's finer composition, its guitar lines (however impressive they might be) fail to match the sheer audacity of "Far Beyond the Sun." Rising Force, Yngwie's debut album, must've sounded like a bat outta hell in 1984. No one had played this fast, this precisely, and with such heedless abandon. While the whole album is filled with great solos, "Beyond" is basically one long brain-fuck. You might wonder how such a "shallow" solo got placed above some of the songs that I wrote metaphysical descriptions for earlier. Well, "Far Beyond the Sun" just has that bad-ass of a solo. Sometimes it doesn't matter how much "soul" or "emotion" you have if you can't play worth shit. And Yngwie might be lacking in the emotional depth category, but he sure can fucking play. There's a ton of blazing solos out there, so it's hard to define exactly what sets this greatest of shred solos above the heap of its competitors. I love how the song just keeps getting more intense as it goes along. You think the bad-ass solo's gonna start at one minute in. Then you think that has to be it at 2:30, the intense rush of Yngwie breaking free from the bonds of any sort of melody and letting loose on his fretboard, dueling with the Arabian-sounding keyboard played by some moustachioed guy who grew up in a place like Libya or Algeria. But no, Yngwie hasn't really let loose yet. By the time he does, especially in the parts where it's just him on the guitar with no backing instrumentation--holy shit. It gives me shivers every single time I hear it. The high baroque drama of such technique is absolutely stunning. My favorite part is that the single best lick in the entire song is the last--the very last--lick of the solo, right at 4:57. I love how it's almost drowned-out by the drums and rhythm guitar, but it descends into the bowels of hell, hitting every single note between here and oblivion. I've seen a couple covers of this song, and some of the people are fast, but the speed isn't what matters. No one is as precise as Yngwie.
11.) "November Rain" (Guns N' Roses)
Like Metallica's "One," "November Rain" is a rock epic with a hell of a lot of solos in it. For a long time, what drew me to this song is Slash's singing guitar lines in the coda. He tops even his impressive work in the outro of "Paradise City" with these phrases that effortlessly combine a stunning hook with jaw-dropping virtuosity. And again, like "Paradise City," I just want Axl to shut the fuck up and let us hear Slash's playing, which as far as I'm concerned is what elevates this song into a masterpiece. Does anyone actually care about the singing in this song? No other guitar solos grasp for the stars quite like Slash's outro to "November Rain." You can literally hear the hook reaching towards something higher.
But in my older years, I've come to discover that the best part of the song is actually the impossibly gorgeous slow guitar solos of the first half. There doesn't exist on record anywhere solos as melodic as these. These are truly perfect. The hold notes have such a beautiful sustain on them that it makes me want to cry. The melody of these solos is more impossibly sublime and beautifully played than anything anyone else would sing in the entire decade of the '90s. If I had to pick the most beautiful solos on my entire list, "November Rain"'s slow ones would be at the top. That's really all I can say here. Just listen.
10.) "Machine Gun" (Jimi Hendrix and the Band of Gypsys)
Jimi's positively volcanic playing on this live-only track recorded after the Jimi Hendrix Experience split up is a great fucking way to start my top 10. Backed by his new band (the Band of Gypsys), the stage belongs solely to Jimi here in New York City. What else can describe those first notes of the solo other than banshee wails? They are the most powerful guitar notes in rock history. Jimi tears into the extended solo with absolutely reckless abandon, seeming to pour his 27 brief years of joy and pain and confusion into a 3 minute break that depicts war better than anything else I've ever heard. All the suffering, pointlessness, heroism, tragic beauty, and ultimately evil is in there. It seems to break apart by the end (Jimi's weakness was always keeping control of the chaos that came out of his hands at any given time), but what can you say after a beginning that powerful? Like the Vietnam War, it careens into a vicious whirlpool of sound, sweat, and destruction. God, what a trip when it gets back to the groove of the song. You feel like you've been through the jungle yourself, until you realize that that's not even close.
I've always had a hard time understanding why Jimi Hendrix is considered the greatest rock guitarist of all time, but this solo is probably the best explanation anyone could ever give me. The power of it is staggering; its intensity, shocking. No one had ever done anything like this before. No one had ever willed their instrument to such heights of expressive power. Here Jimi proves why, in my opinion, the electric guitar is the most expressive instrument there is. Nothing can conjure a combination of beauty, devastating power, and otherworldly oddness like the electric guitar can. The piano might beat it in simplicity, the violin in beauty, and perhaps the theremin in alien-ness, but no instrument has the ability to do all of these qualities (and many more) like the electric guitar. If anyone asks for proof, send them "Machine Gun."
--Edward
Not typically ranked as Jimmy Page's finest solo, I can't help but be awed by his instinctual sense of emotion and blues grandeur in "Since I've Been Loving You." Like his majestic solo break in "Stairway to Heaven," the solo in this fits the song surrounding it like a velvet glove. Like another blues epic coming up later on this list, Page shows how blues guitar is able to tap the deepest depths of human sorrow with its moaning. groaning bends and scales originating from the darkest jungles of Africa, the cradle of humankind itself. In addition to being devastatingly heartbreaking, I also think this is easily one of Page's most technically brilliant solos. He goes to the end of the world and back in his minute-plus break, again proving that the best guitar solos provide a world all of their own, in which to lose oneself and perhaps never return. I love that after such an intense solo, which feels like the end of the world, the song keeps chugging on for another three minutes. God, what a heavy song. His ringing guitar in the last verse is such a great backdrop for Robert Plant's pleading screams from the deep.
18.) "Beyond the Realms of Death" (Judas Priest)
What an absolutely earth-shattering solo. Like "Since I've Been Loving You"'s solo, this one hits us unaware. That kind of raw power cracks me over the head every single time I listen to this Priest classic. The reason it's ranked above "Since I've Been Loving You" is because I find myself even more speechless after this absolutely brilliant cry from the darkness towards a God that looks ever away. It is almost incomprehensible that he would do so, but where else would the angry beauty of this solo come from if he didn't? We are left on our own eternally, and this is the ultimate existential solo I know of. The held notes in the beginning are so irrevocably shattering. There are very few singers who have that kind of ability to pierce the silence. In a way, perhaps it is only through the strange, inhuman quality of musical instruments that we are able to truly to pierce the veil between heaven and earth. But no matter how high we reach, we can never make it beyond the realms of death. I love how resigned to this the ending notes are, and that final pick scrape into eternity and oblivion. Gorgeous in a way I can't put into words.
As great as technical proficiency is in the second solo, it pales in comparison to the stab at the heart of the Divine that is the first solo in this metal anthem.
17.) "Sweet Child o' Mine" (Guns N' Roses)
My least favorite thing in the world is when radio stations fuck up the perfect structure and narrative of Slash's solo in "Sweet Child o' Mine," Guns N' Roses's biggest hit (yeah, fuck you, "Welcome to the Jungle), by shortening it. Why would you do that to such a flawless thing? I truly do not understand. Does the normal person really dislike guitar solos that much? I guess so. That is a disturbing thought. What makes this great is the clear division between the two halves of the solo: the melodically impeccable clarion calls of the first half; the down-and-dirty, wah-drenched rock-out of the second half. More than anything else, this precisely depicts a band that can write both beautiful love songs and raunchy odes to drugs, hookers, and cheap alcohol. A band with dazzling musical ability crippled by reckless self-destruction. They have an ear for writing tremendous pop music, and yet are tarnished by a prissy narcissism that is willing to spit on the face of its fans (yep, that's Axl).
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Slash is perhaps the single most melodic guitar player out there. He knows how to write solos that are hooks in and of themselves like no other guitarist in rock music history. The melody of the intro part of the solo is actually stronger than the rest of the song itself, which is saying something in a song this big. Yet somehow Slash is able to keep up this image as a kick-ass soloist, despite this ability to create lines of heartbreaking beauty. As I said earlier, the solo in "Child" depicts this dichotomy perfectly. (And God, the other guitar parts in this song? Stunning. 'Nuff said.)
16.) "One" (Metallica)
Like a few other songs on this list, "One" is a lengthy rock epic with many solos in it. They progress from delicate to brooding to flat-out insane. According to legend, Kirk Hammett struggled over the solos in this, and though he ultimately wasn't completely happy with what he cut on record (much like this song is itself a hugely ambitious yet failed epic, in the vein of Apocalypse Now or Moby-Dick), he came out with something that is truly special in the world of heavy metal. I just love how unique the solos in this one are. The tone on the early solos is so unlike anything else in Metallica's oeuvre, with an almost completely clean tone lacking in distortion, almost like a bird warbling. The song's gimmick (if you can call it that) is its slow build-up from a soldier lying alone in his bed, wounded horribly from a war, remembering almost nostalgically the battlefield, amidst ringing guitar lines and a beautifully melodic first solo (one of Hammett's most beautiful, along with the first one in "Fade to Black"). Slowly, the pieces of a gradually building puzzle follow into place: drums, James Hetfield's relentless yet gently droning vocals, and the eventual introduction of distorted guitars in what suffices as a chorus in "One." The haunting lyrics build on top of each other, creating a musical environment where doom lies just out of sight. Hammett's second solo is not quite as delicate as his first, ending with a tapping lick that melds seamlessly into the shrill-drone distortion of ...And Justice for All's rhythm guitar production. Layers of chunky, angry guitar build on each other, as Lars Ulrich's drums slowly kick into machine gun-mode. Finally, the song breaks loose (yet remains so incredibly tightly controlled) with James Hetfield's incredible machine-gun riffs that echo Ulrich's drumming. This is one of the most staggering moments in any metal song ever. Hetfield's guitar kicks loose, breaking free from the bonds of the drumming, creating a kind of infernal rhythm all his own, and into this spiraling vortex Hammett delivers the solo of a lifetime, again trying to match the speed and intensity of a machine gun that crippled the song's narrator. The combination of the hell-driven velocity of the rhythm section with Hammett's amped-up angry solo is phenomenal. If only they hadn't used such a tinny production on ...And Justice for All, and given Hammett's guitar some real oomph, this would probably be even higher on the list.
15.) "Eruption" (Van Halen)
Rightfully famous as the solo that sent legions of would-be guitarists into their bedrooms to practice their youths away trying (in vain) to imitate the never-before-heard virtuosity of Eddie Van Halen. Coming as it did on Van Halen's first album, Eddie's unadorned solo was a kick in the ass to every single guitarist who thought they had chops. Though I'm sure many old-timers will disagree with me in favor of Jimi Hendrix's "Star-Spangled Banner," I think that "Eruption" is the single most original guitar solo that ever came out of rock music. Nothing kicks your ass quite as hard, that's for sure. The combination of Eddie's absurdly loud and distorted (yet still dazzling) "brown sound," the pure speed with which he ripped through previously-thought-lifeless blues licks that had slowly been sapped of their vitality in the corporate rock era of the '70s, and of course, the infamous finger-tapping technique of the last half of the solo was enough to shape a generation of guitarists. After this, everyone wanted to be a shredder. Though shredding has its roots in many things, from the electrical insanity of John McLaughlin's blistering runs with the Mahavishnu Orchestra to the undeniable skill of the black jazz guitarists of several generations back, shred guitar, for all intents and purposes, begins here, at ground zero. Though he was the most imitated guitarist of all time, no one (and I do mean no one) could capture the legendary cool of Eddie Van Halen. He made it all seem so effortless. And I think what comes across most if you've ever seen or heard him play is that he has a hell of a lot of fun doing it. People who locked themselves in their rooms, practicing ten hours a day to try to imitate Eddie lost sight that that is what rock and roll is all about--being cool and having fun. Eddie never lost sight of that. And that's why he remains one of the most influential guitarists of all time to this day. I don't think any guitarist again will be able to replicate the pure shock value of "Eruption" again.
14.) "Tender Surrender" (Steve Vai)
While most of Vai's ballads are focused on the spiritual search for something bigger, for a higher power, "Tender Surrender" is concerned with the earthy sensuality of human lust. And oh yes, what a sexy solo. Of course, this is not the hollow, spiritually fruitless lust of Vai's '80s peers we're talking about. This is the lust of a man who truly loves his woman, and expresses this through the act of sex/guitar solo. I love this clip, which is from the Alien Love Secrets DVD, which has Vai playing along with the tracks from the CD as he normally would, to help those writing guitar tab books get all the notes right. I must say, there is no sexier guitar player to me than Vai. Just watch the video and you'll understand.
Right off the bat, Vai starts in a different mode than normal from his other seventh songs. His playing is effortlessly laid-back, jazzy, in the primal groove of seduction. Even amongst these slow passages, we can see that Vai's technique--especially his attention to the subtle details of every single note he plays--is leagues beyond his contemporaries. Who else has such a feather touch on their guitar? No one. He knows precisely when to add a hint of vibrato, a tiny, muted fill, or a dynamic change. Every single note Vai plays has a purpose. At 2:00, the lust starts spilling over the brim of Vai's cup, as he amps up the intensity with a series of stuttering bended notes. Vai's secret in this song is that he was able to find just the right setting on his amp and with his effects to be able to gradually change the tone from almost perfectly clear to blazingly distorted by slowly raising the volume knob through the song, allowing him to create a seamless build-up, mimicking the sexual act itself. And that is really the heart of the song. It's all about that build-up.
People tend to make fun of Vai's faces when he plays, but I can't see playing a song like this any other way. You really have to feel your playing to be able to express the music you hear in your head. The floodgates are loosed at 3:20, as Vai naturally lets the song carry him onward into some stunning legato licks that build up to the orgasm and, finally, the after-sex cigarette. The best part of the song is how, right after the climax, he brings that raw passion down seamlessly back into the jazzy vibe of the beginning. Only Steve Vai would've thought of that, I swear. What the hell is the ending and what does it mean? That isn't for me to answer, my friend. but we all know of sex's dark cousin--death.
As mentioned earlier, this isn't a solo with stand-out moments. It must be judged for the sum-total of its experience, the trip from attraction to oblivion. There is truly nothing else like it outside of "I Want You (She's So Heavy)."
13.) "All Along the Watchtower" (The Jimi Hendrix Experience)
Along with the Stones' "Gimme Shelter," one of the most iconic songs about the confusion and chaos of the '60s (as opposed to its [false?] sense of peace and love) is Jimi Hendrix's cover of "All Along the Watchtower." Bob Dylan's enigmatic original is transformed into a rock anthem right off the bat with Jimi's thundering chords, symbolizing napalm raining down from the sky onto his brothers and sisters. But what is most enthralling about Hendrix's version is the otherworldliness of the guitar solo. It exists in and of itself, far off from anything else. It elegantly uses four distinct sections to take us on a journey of the soul: from the relatively straightforward yet passionate delivery of the first section's bluesy licks, to the psychedelic swells of the second, to the ecstatic wah-pedal pleas of the third, to the fateful and all-conclusive ringing riff of the final section. Perhaps no sectional solo has the sense of purpose and wonder that "All Along the Watchtower"'s has, and certainly none is quite so original and breathtaking. Truly this must have been the sound of the gods back in 1968. To me, this is Hendrix's most beautiful solo. While he often had more psychedelic moments, strictly speaking, he had a tendency to veer into self-indulgence because of his notoriety as a sort of musical shaman. But in "Watchtower" he reins in his more chaotic instincts to deliver a solo so precise and so stunning that I would call it the best guitar solo up until that point in rock and roll history.
12.) "Far Beyond the Sun" (Yngwie Malmsteen)
While "Black Star" is Yngwie's finer composition, its guitar lines (however impressive they might be) fail to match the sheer audacity of "Far Beyond the Sun." Rising Force, Yngwie's debut album, must've sounded like a bat outta hell in 1984. No one had played this fast, this precisely, and with such heedless abandon. While the whole album is filled with great solos, "Beyond" is basically one long brain-fuck. You might wonder how such a "shallow" solo got placed above some of the songs that I wrote metaphysical descriptions for earlier. Well, "Far Beyond the Sun" just has that bad-ass of a solo. Sometimes it doesn't matter how much "soul" or "emotion" you have if you can't play worth shit. And Yngwie might be lacking in the emotional depth category, but he sure can fucking play. There's a ton of blazing solos out there, so it's hard to define exactly what sets this greatest of shred solos above the heap of its competitors. I love how the song just keeps getting more intense as it goes along. You think the bad-ass solo's gonna start at one minute in. Then you think that has to be it at 2:30, the intense rush of Yngwie breaking free from the bonds of any sort of melody and letting loose on his fretboard, dueling with the Arabian-sounding keyboard played by some moustachioed guy who grew up in a place like Libya or Algeria. But no, Yngwie hasn't really let loose yet. By the time he does, especially in the parts where it's just him on the guitar with no backing instrumentation--holy shit. It gives me shivers every single time I hear it. The high baroque drama of such technique is absolutely stunning. My favorite part is that the single best lick in the entire song is the last--the very last--lick of the solo, right at 4:57. I love how it's almost drowned-out by the drums and rhythm guitar, but it descends into the bowels of hell, hitting every single note between here and oblivion. I've seen a couple covers of this song, and some of the people are fast, but the speed isn't what matters. No one is as precise as Yngwie.
11.) "November Rain" (Guns N' Roses)
Like Metallica's "One," "November Rain" is a rock epic with a hell of a lot of solos in it. For a long time, what drew me to this song is Slash's singing guitar lines in the coda. He tops even his impressive work in the outro of "Paradise City" with these phrases that effortlessly combine a stunning hook with jaw-dropping virtuosity. And again, like "Paradise City," I just want Axl to shut the fuck up and let us hear Slash's playing, which as far as I'm concerned is what elevates this song into a masterpiece. Does anyone actually care about the singing in this song? No other guitar solos grasp for the stars quite like Slash's outro to "November Rain." You can literally hear the hook reaching towards something higher.
But in my older years, I've come to discover that the best part of the song is actually the impossibly gorgeous slow guitar solos of the first half. There doesn't exist on record anywhere solos as melodic as these. These are truly perfect. The hold notes have such a beautiful sustain on them that it makes me want to cry. The melody of these solos is more impossibly sublime and beautifully played than anything anyone else would sing in the entire decade of the '90s. If I had to pick the most beautiful solos on my entire list, "November Rain"'s slow ones would be at the top. That's really all I can say here. Just listen.
10.) "Machine Gun" (Jimi Hendrix and the Band of Gypsys)
Jimi's positively volcanic playing on this live-only track recorded after the Jimi Hendrix Experience split up is a great fucking way to start my top 10. Backed by his new band (the Band of Gypsys), the stage belongs solely to Jimi here in New York City. What else can describe those first notes of the solo other than banshee wails? They are the most powerful guitar notes in rock history. Jimi tears into the extended solo with absolutely reckless abandon, seeming to pour his 27 brief years of joy and pain and confusion into a 3 minute break that depicts war better than anything else I've ever heard. All the suffering, pointlessness, heroism, tragic beauty, and ultimately evil is in there. It seems to break apart by the end (Jimi's weakness was always keeping control of the chaos that came out of his hands at any given time), but what can you say after a beginning that powerful? Like the Vietnam War, it careens into a vicious whirlpool of sound, sweat, and destruction. God, what a trip when it gets back to the groove of the song. You feel like you've been through the jungle yourself, until you realize that that's not even close.
I've always had a hard time understanding why Jimi Hendrix is considered the greatest rock guitarist of all time, but this solo is probably the best explanation anyone could ever give me. The power of it is staggering; its intensity, shocking. No one had ever done anything like this before. No one had ever willed their instrument to such heights of expressive power. Here Jimi proves why, in my opinion, the electric guitar is the most expressive instrument there is. Nothing can conjure a combination of beauty, devastating power, and otherworldly oddness like the electric guitar can. The piano might beat it in simplicity, the violin in beauty, and perhaps the theremin in alien-ness, but no instrument has the ability to do all of these qualities (and many more) like the electric guitar. If anyone asks for proof, send them "Machine Gun."
--Edward
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Shaking Things Up - DiMB Redesign
I started a Tumblr, and then I had to start another Tumblr in order to make a group blog (see: http://mashable.com/2011/05/01/group-tumblr/)
It's a little strange, because for Tumblr, you have to have your own primary blog that only you can post on. And then you can create a second one, to which you can invite other "members" to post on. And I think only if they are admins can they post without needing the primary's permission. I sent out invites, so we'll see how it works when you all get them and try posting on it. If it's easy, then we could try it out for a bit, and if not, then we could also try out Wordpress or Posterous or something else. Or we could just stick with Blogger (as the Blogger Gods look on...).
Let me know if you can get it to work or not. In the mean time I'm going to keep trying out other things with Blogger and putting up new polls.
It's a little strange, because for Tumblr, you have to have your own primary blog that only you can post on. And then you can create a second one, to which you can invite other "members" to post on. And I think only if they are admins can they post without needing the primary's permission. I sent out invites, so we'll see how it works when you all get them and try posting on it. If it's easy, then we could try it out for a bit, and if not, then we could also try out Wordpress or Posterous or something else. Or we could just stick with Blogger (as the Blogger Gods look on...).
Let me know if you can get it to work or not. In the mean time I'm going to keep trying out other things with Blogger and putting up new polls.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Classic Literature Series--Introduction
The books I'd like to address in this classics series aren't just known for being difficult--they are known for containing the wisdom of the entire human race; for shaping the lives of generations of men and women who have read them, who in turn shaped the rest of the world around them. The classics perhaps have a reputation as being difficult because they are books that richly reward multiple readings. They are the type of book that you get more out of with each reading. That is why they have lasted for hundreds, or in some cases, thousands of years They are also the type of book that reaps even greater rewards when being discussed and thought about passionately. This is mostly my reasoning for creating this series. I don't particularly just want to rant about each book. What I really want to do is discuss the ideas and the writing of the book with the other readers on here, so that we can get a (Socratic?) dialogue going, which will lead to illuminations we might not have otherwise stumbled upon from these novels, poems, short stories, essays, treatises, plays, or sacred scriptures. Also, I want to get other people enthusiastic about literature, and hopefully turn them onto some good books. If nothing else, at least writing about each book will flesh out my own opinions of the work, and what exactly I have taken from it. Sometimes these things aren't easily seen until one does the actual work of discussing the book.
In a week or so, I will have a post ready about the King James Old Testament. Everyone, get psyched!
--Edward
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Salutations, Show 'n Tell, Some Suggestions--- watch out, she's a doozy.
Well, well, well…. I have certainly been nothing but lazily absent from this blog for the last few months, now haven’t I? Tsk, tsk, tsk. The only excuse I can even begin to offer is that… well… sometimes life happens. We don’t choose our misfortunes, our rough patches, or our ruts, but we can indubitably choose how we react to and work through those said troubles. So, to jump right into airing some of my dirty laundry out (so as to no longer feel the awkward presence of an unmentioned elephant in the room, even if I’m the only one who can actually sense its presence), I’ll go ahead and divulge a little: for me (and most definitely this time around in particular, seeing as I’ve battled many diverse demons over the last 20 years), I really allowed myself to fall down the proverbial rabbit hole, head first, eyes closed, arms at my side, without even attempting to muster up even an iota of mental or physical or emotional or spiritual strength to crawl back out. This is the first time I can actually look back (since I’m already doing better) and say definitively that there were times I really didn’t think I’d make it out of everything as the same person I was before. I’m not nearly as brave as Edward, and I’m certainly more bashful than most when it comes to my particular brands of problems, but I can say that I’ve truly had such a bizarre, upsetting, and surreal last few months; and that’s certainly not to say they’ve been all “bad”... that’s the thing about mental health diagnoses that most people fail to see since they’re so busy viewing things in a black and white, all or nothing manner when it comes to psychology: the majority of mental health diagnoses are not permanent, they are not terminal, and even at your worst, you don’t necessarily experience your symptoms 24/7, that’s most certainly a myth. This is probably why many, including my own family members and close friends, had a hard time (and still have a hard time) “buying” all of this hullabaloo, because, firstly they think psychology is just a pseudo-science (seriously though, since when did everyone become a Scientologist that distrusted any and all FDA approved medications that have the ability to truly help someone who is in mental pain? Did I miss some nation-wide drink the kool aid party?), and secondly, they see me, as many do, with a smile on my face every day so it is simply assumed that because I appear to be happy and funny, than everything is okay. Again, mental health issues are not the stereotypical Hollywood circa 1995 depicted jokes wherein the girl cries into her pillows day and night in strategically placed virginal lingerie without eating or showering or communicating with anyone or anything except her tape player (blasting Boyz ii Men, undoubtedly). As a quick example here (to disprove this ill-informed judgment), I could be (for instance) experiencing physically debilitating or emotionally paralyzing symptoms as a direct result from my particular problems, and yet I could still find peaceful moments and pure solace throughout my days wherein I appreciate the littlest of things—the sun warming my face as I close my tired eyes and look up towards the sky, the autumnal chill sneakily creeping in as my big protector star holds the harsh wind off as long as she can...I relish the primal satisfaction I am overwhelmed with after a delicious crunch from a golden maple leaf sings out stridently beneath the trepidations of my foot… a tangerine tinged harvest moon glows incandescently , inspiring a choir of cadent crickets and an opus of orchestral owls to instinctively, harmoniously serenade the starry night sky. These darling little details of my sometimes poetic existence are purely simple, tangible, and immediately sensed, making it easier for me to stay in the present moment, in nature, and not allowing my exhaustedly burnt out mind to run rampantly through the never-ending maze of self-loathing fears and anxieties. Being able to acknowledge, and most importantly, appreciate the bigger, more substantial aspects of my adulthood were much harder to accomplish, even with the help of therapy and the support from those closest to me. It honestly was not that I was ever, even for a second, unappreciative or dismissive of my loved ones; I just always selfishly chose to dwell and flail and drown alone in a pool of delusional, daily self-deprecation instead of choosing them and acquiescing to their sincerest wishes for my well-being. I denied, deflected and defensively coped with the snow-ball effects of my increasingly, uncontrollable unhappiness by becoming so intensely and uncharacteristically reclusive, quiet, guarded, anti-social, ashamed, needy, and ineffably angered in a multitude of ways on an hourly basis. I’m quite sure that for those closest to me it was more than easy to see that I was shutting down, checking out… losing not only weight, but losing my unique, innately “Bethany” qualities little by little, my kefi slipping through my fingers, giving up on a variety of people, hobbies, communication methods, and most regrettably so, throwing the towel in completely on my writing. Writing has always been there for me as a companion, a confidante, a friend, and my one true outlet for artistic/cognitive/sub-conscious/emotional/interpersonal/spiritual expressions. I’ve concurrently kept a variety of journals over the years (truly too many to admit to at this point), each one serving a different purpose in terms of content and writing style. The most recent journal that I was gifted by surprise came from Edward. He’s extremely more than privy by this point to my obsessive (or borderline hoarder/neurotic) romanticizing of beautiful journals. A nice journal represents hope for me. I don’t even care if that sounds silly or un-evolved or childish. Even in my deepest depths of melancholy or eating disorder frenzy, if Edward were to take me into a Barnes & Nobel, I would, without a shadow of a doubt, instinctively make a B-line for the journal aisle, ogling the different styles and sizes and colors, whimsically day dreaming about how I would use each one based on its appearance and how it “spoke” to me (think the wands in Harry Potter… then you’ll understand).
Anyhow, the true point to all of these run-on sentences just oozing with oversharing is simply to say that I only felt it would be fair, in honor of the list-maker extraordinaire himself, to attempt to fill the pages of this notebook with lists—not as obsessively or specifically or precisely executed as his lists, but still, I decided it made sense to henceforth be keeping lists none-the-less and without comparison. My first list consisted of short-term life goals that I’d like to accomplish, with no exact deadline in mind since that has always been my biggest set-up for self-fulfilling prophetic failures. I created one obligatory and undeniably materialistic and vain list for the hell of it, knowing full well that I very rarely give in to the spoils of capitalistic materialism anyway. I just really needed to write it to try and reconnect with that nostalgically fun and traditionally feminine side of me that I’ve really been ignoring for years now. I then began to write a “books to read” list—now let me take this time to quickly clarify… my book list will not and does not wish to resemble Edward’s. He has his own life goals (which are very impressive in their own rights) that include reading about a couple gazillion books before he dies. Yeah, see, that just does not work for me. I’ve decided to make my book list very unconventionally, languidly, senior citizen early- bird special-esque, and ueber personal in order to feel the kind of motivation I truly need to have to tackle as many books as I was once reading in my young age (i.e. 3 years ago). If I start to give myself deadlines and limits and page numbers and hours logged in per week, I know me, and I know I will give up on reading, regrettably, yet again... which has been happening these past few months. I was once an avid reader, but I realize now that most of that was fueled by college courses that required the reading to be done by a preordained date. That’s certainly not to say I enjoyed the assigned books any less, but it definitely explains why I no longer feel guilt-ridden and nervously compelled to read 3-5 books a month anymore. I also spent such a good chunk of that aforementioned time reading solely Classics. I do not regret this even in the slightest, I just simply feel that now that I’m fresh out of the fast-flowing groove of reading dense literature that I once boasted, I need to go back to the start, turn back to books that tickle my fancy, get my juices flowing, get me all hyped up like a 12-year-old boy at a mall arcade, or a 16-year-old girl weeping into her Justin Bieber pillow case over the non-existent reality of her favorite Twilight characters. Basically, in a nutshell, I just want to start reading fun/enjoyable books again. I miss the days of my public library visits where the idea of getting a new book out rivaled the possibility of getting a new toy to play with. I try very hard not to be a book snob, and I really do feel that reading anything, ever , (be it novels, non-fiction, articles, essays, editorials, short stories, magazine blurbs, newspapers, etc.) in general helps to stimulate and speed up your cognitive processes and will ultimately benefit you immensely no matter what the content entails…. That’s right, go on a whip that Entertainment Weekly out while you’re contemplating life and love in the comfort of your own home, on your porcelain throne.
Soooooo, after putting you all (though I truly doubt anyone would have made it this far) through years and years of full on, dentures out, Mumu hanging off one shoulder, dazed Grandma on her front porch stroking a cat in her lap (just a wee bit too violent with the petting, if you know what I’m sayin’) style psycho-babbling, I’ll now try to get to the whole point of this post. I hope none of you are rubbing your temples and reaching for the aspirin and a spoon to bite down on just yet—bear with me; we’re almost to the climax!
Alright, here we go… so, Edward and I had been talking pretty recently about the blog in general, and how we both felt we weren’t feeling as inspired to write as much as we once had (especially me). We then began to brainstorm some various ways to quickly and easily refresh the overall feel of the DiMB format and positively progress with the blog-- not change its integrity or core principles or anything drastic, but simply give it a mini face-lift, a metaphorical week-long, all-inclusive getaway to a five- star fancy shmancy hotel spa in Switzerland where they’ll be sure to give little old DiMB all kinds of love and a daily turn down service with a chocolate on her pillow each night (just to officially go on the record here, Edward really did not say any of that ridiculous (yet completely adorable) shit about a medi-spa in Switzerland….) Okay, anyway, in essence (and in my own humble opinion which, in the grand scheme of things, means very little in terms of this blog, seeing as I was such a late joiner), I simply feel that we could really shake things up here quite a bit, and for the absolute better. I often think of and refer back to my very favorite blogs (for example, gawker.com, etc) when I dream about propelling DiMB forward and increasing its viewership… and I’m well aware that it would certainly entail several changes. I personally and quite open-mindedly would propose (strictly coming from my PR/ media arts/marketing and communicative social scientific theory background from NYU) that we should employ just a teensy bit more modern (not fancy or fruity or non-relatable by any means) tactics into the overall format, appearance, structure, and content of the DiMB blog. Format and appearance styling are (obnoxiously) very important in the blogosphere, but also obviously the most overtly easy to deal with, and can be discussed through poll or whatever democratic measures anyone is willing to take part in. Now, structure seems to be the trickiest in terms of making a more user-friendly blog atmosphere wherein the topics, comments, posting times, post authors, and linking capabilities (to twitter, Facebook, email, etc) are easier to detect and more appealing to outside viewers to be more interactive with. I really feel that that is the one and only “missing link” from the current state of affairs at DiMB--- our decreased viewership has led to almost no interactivity on any of the( already limited) blog posts in terms of comments and sharing. I’m aware that the decreased viewership is also correlated to the lack of posting, but it surely cannot be the one and only reason. I just feel like you guys had something so uniquely special here, something I’d never, ever come across before. Something I distinctly remember being jealous over. I remember sharing certain posts with people from NYU, and their immediate responses were almost always that the webmaster should edit the page enough to take the concept to a national level. I mean, hell, that’s truly why I was so elated to become a writer on this thing… because I’d been admiring it from afar for quite some time and I just really believed in the basic principles and the heart of the blog itself.
This now leads me to content--- again, I don’t know how anyone else wants to proceed with writing their content on the blog and I’d certainly love to hear any and all thoughts regarding this particular issue… but I can really only speak for myself when I say the content seems to no longer reflect the original intent behind the creation of the blog. Again, maybe I’m completely and utterly off here, and please anyone/everyone call me out on this if so, but I simply feel that the current path the blog is headed down seems to lean towards eventual obscurity, and I’d just truly hate to see that happen. I just wish we could get people to really come together, and recruit more guest writers, in order to really, truly discuss the content on the blog itself and what direction it should be headed in. The “theme” of the month has certainly been off as of late (and I’ve chosen some of the themes, so I certainly take full responsibility here). I know the theme was originally used to help those who couldn’t come up with something to write about on their own without a strict prompt, but it has now almost transmogrified into something of a shroud that looms over each month, stifling what should be a forum for true-blue blogging at its finest. I mean, from what I’ve read, (which is basically every entry ever), there are some really talented, funny, original writers who used to/ still do write for DiMB. If we could somehow just hone all that talent and focus all that humor into a more relatable, decipherable, and clearer patterned blogging format, I think we could produce something pretty amazing, if you ask me. Again, I apologize from the very bottom of my heart if any of this is offensive; truly I am sorry if that’s the case.
Aaandd this leads me into my next and final comment--- after I began writing my little book list, and Edward and I had already previously mentioned doing some sort group/interactive experiment with the blog that would allow already-existent writers to come together for a public discourse, and could potentially, through various means involving multi-media database PR platform initiatives (oh, I have my ways, believe you me….jk, or just, i.e. social networking tools like Facebook, LinkedIn, foursquare, Google plus, forums like rotten tomatoes, or other forums involving literature or creative writing, etc), invite a plethora of guest posters to be able to join in on discussions in a more forum-style setting. When broaching this topic, Edward and myself originally thought that perhaps we could get enough people together to rally around some sort of book club (a seriously cool one, I swear, I have tons of exciting ideas)… and, don’t worry, it won’t be Mr. Chamberlin’s intimidatingly long and dense and boring books…. We were thinking more like purely fun and different series that can be read at a slow pace and just for enjoyment’s sake… something that adults rarely get to even do anymore?! It’s ludicrous. Edward and myself were throwing around ideas of different series that we could take several months to finish, and talk about it either all the way through or when everyone is done.. (books like the Hunger Games trilogy, The Game of Thrones series, the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series, the Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice (the old school first-ever vampire craze in the late 80s/early 90s), The Dark Tower, the Erast Fandorin series, His Dark Materials trilogy (since I’ve always wanted to read the Golden Compass!!), or The Thorn Birds, or it doesn’t even have to be a series at all, it could be a single book, and we could always vote…, we just thought that may be easier to stay in the same frame of mind with the characters over the course of a few months so the weekly or bi-weekly chats could happen…) and then we could involve a lot more interactive tools with polls, and debate style questions a la Rotten Tomatoes, and we could get together in person at the end of a book… I just feel everything could be more socially inclusive and not just limited to the confines of a computer screen I know for a fact I have dozens of friends who’ve read things like the Hunger Games that would just love to comment on our blog, and I’m sure Edward knows many posters from RT and online lit forums that he could recruit some more action. Basically, this whole spiel doesn’t even need to include books if no one is really interested at the end of the day… I just thought it would be fun since I know Edward is going to be moving forward soon with a blog series devoted to Literature that he’ll post continuously on DiMB. We could so easily turn this whole “interactive blogging community” into something entirely different… something involving music or movies or magazines or pop culture or fashion or relationships/sex or nightlife in DC or wherever the bloggers will be writing from… shit, we could even include our own spins on the daily news. Basically, I just am pretty much in love with the idea of turning this blog into something a little more technologically advanced, and a little more professionally polished (not formal at all, clearly) in its design.
One more thing I love--- I love the concept of blog posts being almost like columns in some ways… wherein it doesn’t even necessarily have to sound journalistic or repetitive in themes or bland or what have you, but creating some sort of format and style and specific voice and tonality for each writer wherein the viewers would automatically begin to just know who is writing, and what to expect from that author in their future posts. That is certainly what I go to blogs for, and I always single out specific writers that I relate to the most and then come back more and more frequently to see what they’re writing about next. I clearly have pie-in-the-sky hopes from this blog, and it’s is not even mine; I just get carried away and very excited thinking about all the potential it has, that’s all. Again, I certainly hope I didn’t offend anyone in any way, because my intention was really just earnest in wanting to simply offer a different perspective to see how it was received by the other writers. If everyone hates my ideas, that’s totally and completely cool with me. Feel free to tell me to fuck off if you please. I look forward to hearing some feedback, people! =)
Anyhow, the true point to all of these run-on sentences just oozing with oversharing is simply to say that I only felt it would be fair, in honor of the list-maker extraordinaire himself, to attempt to fill the pages of this notebook with lists—not as obsessively or specifically or precisely executed as his lists, but still, I decided it made sense to henceforth be keeping lists none-the-less and without comparison. My first list consisted of short-term life goals that I’d like to accomplish, with no exact deadline in mind since that has always been my biggest set-up for self-fulfilling prophetic failures. I created one obligatory and undeniably materialistic and vain list for the hell of it, knowing full well that I very rarely give in to the spoils of capitalistic materialism anyway. I just really needed to write it to try and reconnect with that nostalgically fun and traditionally feminine side of me that I’ve really been ignoring for years now. I then began to write a “books to read” list—now let me take this time to quickly clarify… my book list will not and does not wish to resemble Edward’s. He has his own life goals (which are very impressive in their own rights) that include reading about a couple gazillion books before he dies. Yeah, see, that just does not work for me. I’ve decided to make my book list very unconventionally, languidly, senior citizen early- bird special-esque, and ueber personal in order to feel the kind of motivation I truly need to have to tackle as many books as I was once reading in my young age (i.e. 3 years ago). If I start to give myself deadlines and limits and page numbers and hours logged in per week, I know me, and I know I will give up on reading, regrettably, yet again... which has been happening these past few months. I was once an avid reader, but I realize now that most of that was fueled by college courses that required the reading to be done by a preordained date. That’s certainly not to say I enjoyed the assigned books any less, but it definitely explains why I no longer feel guilt-ridden and nervously compelled to read 3-5 books a month anymore. I also spent such a good chunk of that aforementioned time reading solely Classics. I do not regret this even in the slightest, I just simply feel that now that I’m fresh out of the fast-flowing groove of reading dense literature that I once boasted, I need to go back to the start, turn back to books that tickle my fancy, get my juices flowing, get me all hyped up like a 12-year-old boy at a mall arcade, or a 16-year-old girl weeping into her Justin Bieber pillow case over the non-existent reality of her favorite Twilight characters. Basically, in a nutshell, I just want to start reading fun/enjoyable books again. I miss the days of my public library visits where the idea of getting a new book out rivaled the possibility of getting a new toy to play with. I try very hard not to be a book snob, and I really do feel that reading anything, ever , (be it novels, non-fiction, articles, essays, editorials, short stories, magazine blurbs, newspapers, etc.) in general helps to stimulate and speed up your cognitive processes and will ultimately benefit you immensely no matter what the content entails…. That’s right, go on a whip that Entertainment Weekly out while you’re contemplating life and love in the comfort of your own home, on your porcelain throne.
Soooooo, after putting you all (though I truly doubt anyone would have made it this far) through years and years of full on, dentures out, Mumu hanging off one shoulder, dazed Grandma on her front porch stroking a cat in her lap (just a wee bit too violent with the petting, if you know what I’m sayin’) style psycho-babbling, I’ll now try to get to the whole point of this post. I hope none of you are rubbing your temples and reaching for the aspirin and a spoon to bite down on just yet—bear with me; we’re almost to the climax!
Alright, here we go… so, Edward and I had been talking pretty recently about the blog in general, and how we both felt we weren’t feeling as inspired to write as much as we once had (especially me). We then began to brainstorm some various ways to quickly and easily refresh the overall feel of the DiMB format and positively progress with the blog-- not change its integrity or core principles or anything drastic, but simply give it a mini face-lift, a metaphorical week-long, all-inclusive getaway to a five- star fancy shmancy hotel spa in Switzerland where they’ll be sure to give little old DiMB all kinds of love and a daily turn down service with a chocolate on her pillow each night (just to officially go on the record here, Edward really did not say any of that ridiculous (yet completely adorable) shit about a medi-spa in Switzerland….) Okay, anyway, in essence (and in my own humble opinion which, in the grand scheme of things, means very little in terms of this blog, seeing as I was such a late joiner), I simply feel that we could really shake things up here quite a bit, and for the absolute better. I often think of and refer back to my very favorite blogs (for example, gawker.com, etc) when I dream about propelling DiMB forward and increasing its viewership… and I’m well aware that it would certainly entail several changes. I personally and quite open-mindedly would propose (strictly coming from my PR/ media arts/marketing and communicative social scientific theory background from NYU) that we should employ just a teensy bit more modern (not fancy or fruity or non-relatable by any means) tactics into the overall format, appearance, structure, and content of the DiMB blog. Format and appearance styling are (obnoxiously) very important in the blogosphere, but also obviously the most overtly easy to deal with, and can be discussed through poll or whatever democratic measures anyone is willing to take part in. Now, structure seems to be the trickiest in terms of making a more user-friendly blog atmosphere wherein the topics, comments, posting times, post authors, and linking capabilities (to twitter, Facebook, email, etc) are easier to detect and more appealing to outside viewers to be more interactive with. I really feel that that is the one and only “missing link” from the current state of affairs at DiMB--- our decreased viewership has led to almost no interactivity on any of the( already limited) blog posts in terms of comments and sharing. I’m aware that the decreased viewership is also correlated to the lack of posting, but it surely cannot be the one and only reason. I just feel like you guys had something so uniquely special here, something I’d never, ever come across before. Something I distinctly remember being jealous over. I remember sharing certain posts with people from NYU, and their immediate responses were almost always that the webmaster should edit the page enough to take the concept to a national level. I mean, hell, that’s truly why I was so elated to become a writer on this thing… because I’d been admiring it from afar for quite some time and I just really believed in the basic principles and the heart of the blog itself.
This now leads me to content--- again, I don’t know how anyone else wants to proceed with writing their content on the blog and I’d certainly love to hear any and all thoughts regarding this particular issue… but I can really only speak for myself when I say the content seems to no longer reflect the original intent behind the creation of the blog. Again, maybe I’m completely and utterly off here, and please anyone/everyone call me out on this if so, but I simply feel that the current path the blog is headed down seems to lean towards eventual obscurity, and I’d just truly hate to see that happen. I just wish we could get people to really come together, and recruit more guest writers, in order to really, truly discuss the content on the blog itself and what direction it should be headed in. The “theme” of the month has certainly been off as of late (and I’ve chosen some of the themes, so I certainly take full responsibility here). I know the theme was originally used to help those who couldn’t come up with something to write about on their own without a strict prompt, but it has now almost transmogrified into something of a shroud that looms over each month, stifling what should be a forum for true-blue blogging at its finest. I mean, from what I’ve read, (which is basically every entry ever), there are some really talented, funny, original writers who used to/ still do write for DiMB. If we could somehow just hone all that talent and focus all that humor into a more relatable, decipherable, and clearer patterned blogging format, I think we could produce something pretty amazing, if you ask me. Again, I apologize from the very bottom of my heart if any of this is offensive; truly I am sorry if that’s the case.
Aaandd this leads me into my next and final comment--- after I began writing my little book list, and Edward and I had already previously mentioned doing some sort group/interactive experiment with the blog that would allow already-existent writers to come together for a public discourse, and could potentially, through various means involving multi-media database PR platform initiatives (oh, I have my ways, believe you me….jk, or just, i.e. social networking tools like Facebook, LinkedIn, foursquare, Google plus, forums like rotten tomatoes, or other forums involving literature or creative writing, etc), invite a plethora of guest posters to be able to join in on discussions in a more forum-style setting. When broaching this topic, Edward and myself originally thought that perhaps we could get enough people together to rally around some sort of book club (a seriously cool one, I swear, I have tons of exciting ideas)… and, don’t worry, it won’t be Mr. Chamberlin’s intimidatingly long and dense and boring books…. We were thinking more like purely fun and different series that can be read at a slow pace and just for enjoyment’s sake… something that adults rarely get to even do anymore?! It’s ludicrous. Edward and myself were throwing around ideas of different series that we could take several months to finish, and talk about it either all the way through or when everyone is done.. (books like the Hunger Games trilogy, The Game of Thrones series, the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series, the Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice (the old school first-ever vampire craze in the late 80s/early 90s), The Dark Tower, the Erast Fandorin series, His Dark Materials trilogy (since I’ve always wanted to read the Golden Compass!!), or The Thorn Birds, or it doesn’t even have to be a series at all, it could be a single book, and we could always vote…, we just thought that may be easier to stay in the same frame of mind with the characters over the course of a few months so the weekly or bi-weekly chats could happen…) and then we could involve a lot more interactive tools with polls, and debate style questions a la Rotten Tomatoes, and we could get together in person at the end of a book… I just feel everything could be more socially inclusive and not just limited to the confines of a computer screen I know for a fact I have dozens of friends who’ve read things like the Hunger Games that would just love to comment on our blog, and I’m sure Edward knows many posters from RT and online lit forums that he could recruit some more action. Basically, this whole spiel doesn’t even need to include books if no one is really interested at the end of the day… I just thought it would be fun since I know Edward is going to be moving forward soon with a blog series devoted to Literature that he’ll post continuously on DiMB. We could so easily turn this whole “interactive blogging community” into something entirely different… something involving music or movies or magazines or pop culture or fashion or relationships/sex or nightlife in DC or wherever the bloggers will be writing from… shit, we could even include our own spins on the daily news. Basically, I just am pretty much in love with the idea of turning this blog into something a little more technologically advanced, and a little more professionally polished (not formal at all, clearly) in its design.
One more thing I love--- I love the concept of blog posts being almost like columns in some ways… wherein it doesn’t even necessarily have to sound journalistic or repetitive in themes or bland or what have you, but creating some sort of format and style and specific voice and tonality for each writer wherein the viewers would automatically begin to just know who is writing, and what to expect from that author in their future posts. That is certainly what I go to blogs for, and I always single out specific writers that I relate to the most and then come back more and more frequently to see what they’re writing about next. I clearly have pie-in-the-sky hopes from this blog, and it’s is not even mine; I just get carried away and very excited thinking about all the potential it has, that’s all. Again, I certainly hope I didn’t offend anyone in any way, because my intention was really just earnest in wanting to simply offer a different perspective to see how it was received by the other writers. If everyone hates my ideas, that’s totally and completely cool with me. Feel free to tell me to fuck off if you please. I look forward to hearing some feedback, people! =)
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
The Vast Majority of Space is Dark
I've been reading Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time lately, and it's gotten me quite lost. Lost in the book. Lost wherever I am while reading it. Lost in thought. It's not the same sort of lost that often comes up when someone discusses their missing car keys or where they are on a map. This kind of lost, the kind I've always been drawn to, is a bit of the opposite. Instead of disappearing into the unknown while everything else is present, I am actually burning as the only light around while all else is dark. The best part about this type of lost, is that wherever I tread, I light the surroundings as I go. This may sound like the most romanticized view of life, but if you read a little of A Brief History Of Time, then this scale of what we are and what we know contrasted against how much we aren't and how much we don't know might start to make more sense.
People who know me may know that I like being this type of lost. Trudging through snow drifts on the sidewalks of Chicago and pacing the wide empty stately streets of DC well past midnight stand out in my mind. In the same way you would explore a level in a video game, say Grand Theft Auto San Andreas, I like to walk and drive and bike and go places I don't really know. There's not so much a point to it as there is a rhythm. It's especially nice to get to know a place at night when it's quieter and subdued. It's less safe, but it's more revealing. And in time, I find myself more acquainted with the place as I might a new friend. I may not know every detail, but I have a sense for them, and I begin to wonder how they see me.
That is the more difficult side of this being lost, worrying about how I fit in with any of it. If you spend too much time on that side, you will lose yourself in the same way as the car keys. It is in this way I am trying not to lose myself. I fall in love with whatever boring, strange, wonderful, or even awful thing I find lit in my path, but then I grow disillusioned by what I'm doing there in the first place. As I look for the next step, next job, next city, next life, I find myself clutching the daily things I fear I might one day take for granted, and mostly I find myself avoiding eye contact with the fear of doing anything to change anything.
The weird thing about staring into a lit screen in the middle of a dark room is that you quickly can't see anything else but the glowing, dull screen. Meanwhile, the longer you stare out into space the more stars, planets, asteroids, and the universe you see. I don't know what that means, but I like it.
People who know me may know that I like being this type of lost. Trudging through snow drifts on the sidewalks of Chicago and pacing the wide empty stately streets of DC well past midnight stand out in my mind. In the same way you would explore a level in a video game, say Grand Theft Auto San Andreas, I like to walk and drive and bike and go places I don't really know. There's not so much a point to it as there is a rhythm. It's especially nice to get to know a place at night when it's quieter and subdued. It's less safe, but it's more revealing. And in time, I find myself more acquainted with the place as I might a new friend. I may not know every detail, but I have a sense for them, and I begin to wonder how they see me.
That is the more difficult side of this being lost, worrying about how I fit in with any of it. If you spend too much time on that side, you will lose yourself in the same way as the car keys. It is in this way I am trying not to lose myself. I fall in love with whatever boring, strange, wonderful, or even awful thing I find lit in my path, but then I grow disillusioned by what I'm doing there in the first place. As I look for the next step, next job, next city, next life, I find myself clutching the daily things I fear I might one day take for granted, and mostly I find myself avoiding eye contact with the fear of doing anything to change anything.
The weird thing about staring into a lit screen in the middle of a dark room is that you quickly can't see anything else but the glowing, dull screen. Meanwhile, the longer you stare out into space the more stars, planets, asteroids, and the universe you see. I don't know what that means, but I like it.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Edward's Road to Recovery, Entry #3
Woah, this is a strange new format. Hopefully everything looks okay when finished.
Anyways, today is as good a day as any to write about my experiences in the IOP (intensive outpatient) program of CATS, which immediately followed my stay in the day-treatment detox facility of the Inova hospital, because I just completed the ten week program last night. I got out from detox on a Tuesday, I believe, and on a Wednesday began my first day of IOP. At the time I was a bit hesitant, but because I had had such a good experience at CATS thus far--sharing my story and really feeling connected to both my fellow patients and the staff in ways that I never expected--I was pretty positive that IOP would be a worthwhile experience. To make a long story short, it was most definitely worth it.
The logistics of IOP are this: it is a group that varies from approximately 5 to 12 patients, led by one counselor. We would meet at the same place at the same time three times a week, for three hours per session. Nine hours a week at first seemed daunting, but as the chemistry of the group slowly gelled into something really amazing, I honestly wanted the sessions to last even longer. Like a support group, we would typically check in and/or talk about our plans for the upcoming weekend, to make sure we were staying busy and had a plan to get through the weekend without drinking or using. However, IOP provides more of a structure than a group like SMART Recovery or AA, because each class was usually based around a unique topic. The majority of the class would be spent with us going through various worksheets and discussing the topic of the night in great detail, with our counselor Becky pushing us back on topic if we strayed too far (and we inevitably always did). We talked about things like PAWS (post-acute withdrawal symptoms, which can last physically for up to one year, and mentally for up to two, and consist of things like headaches, nightmares and bad sleep, body aches, and depression), self-soothing exercises (yoga, meditation, breathing, etc.), coping skills to deal with cravings, and creating a recovery plan.
I don't remember too much of the academic material from our group. What I do remember is the people and the good times we had. I think our group was very unusual in that we had an almost perfect chemistry, even as old members left (either to graduate, to sadly relapse, or just to drop out) and new members joined. There was always someone there to welcome the new people and show them that in our group you could be completely at ease. There was absolutely and truly no judgment, and people could say whatever they wanted. I especially tried to cultivate an environment where everyone felt comfortable sharing their most troubling and embarrassing issues and stories. I was known as the member who was the most willing to go all-out in terms of baring my soul and all the many blemishes of my past behavior. Even people who were court-ordered into the group because of a DUI got a lot out of it, because we encouraged them to speak up and share their viewpoint, which more often then not was that they felt they didn't really belong in our group. But we loved them just as much as we loved everyone else, because most of us had been there in our past, at a time when we weren't ready to admit that we were powerless over our addictions.
For some reason the group seemed to excel because of its all-male demographic. I know that others who had been in other classes said that the other groups were very weak compared to ours. Basically people didn't really put much effort into sharing or participating in the other groups, and everyone just looked at the clock till the three hours ran down. Ours was so different. Maybe people would be shy for their first session or two, but eventually everyone would participate and share very intimate details about their lives, to which almost all of us could relate. Our counselor was a girl, but she was pretty awesome, and being younger, she could hang with our group of guys quite easily. My main job was when she asked us tough, personal questions, I would turn it back around on her. For a while in there we did have one girl, who in my opinion was a bit much of an attention whore (although I enjoyed her own perspective in the class, since she was by a good bit the youngest member), but she left after a few sessions. One of the lecherous old guys in the class, JR, told me that he thinks she left because she realized that he had seen her working (apparently not as a dancer that night?) at a strip club somewhere in the Crystal City area. That might actually be the truth, considering she said she hadn't had a normal job in a long time, but still lived on her own and had a heroin habit. In any case, it did feel like a bit of a boys' club, and there was that sort of foul-mouthed sense of humor that comes with the territory. Another thing I was known for was being the one who cursed the most. Dat's me. (Oh, and I was known for my lust for food whenever someone brought snacks in.)
My only complaint about the group (and it's a small one) is that over time it became completely dominated by alcoholics, and (although I do have an alcohol addiction) because my drug of choice was heroin and opiates, I felt like a variety of viewpoints were not always expressed. This isn't really the group's fault, though. It just shows how many more alcoholics there are out there than other kinds of drug addicts. I believe there were only three other heroin addicts in the group, and usually only one at any given time besides me. We were all young. There was also Ben, who I went through detox with, who was an oxycodone addict. For whatever reason (perhaps because it's a suburban, predominately upper-class and white area outside of DC), I only saw one person in my entire stay at CATS who was there for anything else other then alcohol or opiates (his drug of choice was cocaine). Though in general, an addiction is an addiction is an addiction, I do think there are differences in experience between older businessmen who drink too much and junkies. But in a sense I like that they put everyone together, since we could all share and relate to our own unique experiences. A lot of times I related more to older alcoholics than I did to other young heroin addicts. I think there is a sort of shared brother/sisterhood among all addicts, no matter what kind of drug they were addicted to. The treatment is essentially the same for all kinds of drugs, with some minor differences in the beginning, and the heavy burden of addiction bears down on everyone through the years in the same ways.
What I gained most out of IOP wasn't an absorption of knowledge. Most of the facts about addiction and the methods of treatment and self-help techniques I knew about before going in, since I researched drug addiction so heavily during my years of use. What I gained was simply the kick-in-the-ass impact of getting out there and doing the shit that I'd read about for so long but had been too scared to do. I hated, hated, hated social groups and that sort of thing before treatment, but I would wager that I was the most talkative member of the group throughout my entire ten-week stay. To me, what recovery is about is really conquering the fears which we've held so tightly and buried, leading to self-destruction and hatred. It helps tremendously to not just sit there and dream about goals for the future, but to talk about them and write them down on a regular basis. There is a great sense of accountability when I talk about my goals and then people ask how they're going the next week. Although I already had a lot of aspects of my recovery plan compiled before I went into IOP, every single day I spent in the group I was more and more motivated to actually get out there and do the stuff: reading, writing, music, film, yoga, meditation, cardio, lifting weights, dancing, breathing, having sex, playing video games, traveling to new places, and of course making new relationships, and maintaining and improving old ones.
One of the key things to take from addiction recovery is this: there is a difference between compliance and acceptance, a difference between abstinence and sobriety. We can quit because we have to; we can stop using drugs and still be unhappy. Accepting sobriety means trying to do something every day of your life to better yourself. It can be at times a very selfish project. Because we have spent so long hating and destroying ourselves, early recovery is often a time where you are supposed to focus very strongly on yourself, sometimes at the expense of others' demands. Laws of AA include that you're not supposed to date for the first year of sobriety or make any major decisions in your life. It's all about a time of self-healing. That is the most important part of recovery. With time we can learn to give back to all those we have hurt, and most importantly to learn to help others who struggle with the disease of addiction. Sobriety isn't being off drugs. It is a lifetime journey towards happiness and contentment, and I think for me towards some kind of greater truth.
--Edward
Friday, November 4, 2011
The Top 100 Rock Guitar Solos of All Time--29-20
And here is the long-awaited return of my patented "The Top 100 Rock Guitar Solos of All Time" series. I'm sorry for the long delay, but things came up (see: my Road to Recovery series; also, I felt quite a bit of alienation towards the blog, which I think is best left alone).
Without further adieu, here are the next ten:
29.) "Burning Rain" (Steve Vai)
Another classic off of Vai's live album Alive in an Ultra World, this is I believe his song for Japan. This is a solo of buildup (my favorite kind?), and has the feeling of oriental murkiness and opium languor that I find especially sexy. The second half of the song is basically just one long voyage into the steamy streets of Bangcok or Calcutta or some other exotic place. At 3:50, Vai brings us back to the more familiar world of his shredding, but it's hard to shake the sense of unease from the exotic musical quality of what came before. The backdrop of sitar is a nice touch. There is something so sexy about the vacant-eyed quality of his playing on here--he seems eternally a fraction of a second behind the beat. Perhaps that is what some of us find sexy about heroin or Kristen Stewart.
28.) "Paradise City" (Guns N' Roses)
Ah, this wouldn't be a guitar solos list without Slash on it. I have a hard time picking between the three GNR songs on this list, because they all bring something completely different to the table. I don't think there had been a song that rocked as hard as "Paradise" in a good decade when Appetite for Destruction came out in '87. This song is all about the band meshing together, its parts forming a much greater whole when they managed to keep their self-destructive tendencies and egos in check. The weak link for GNR was always (of course) Axl to me, and this is just one of many examples of him shrieking over Slash's solo. The man can fucking play guitar--why is there a need to scream over his solos? Ugh. The end of this song is probably the greatest '80s hard rock moment there is. Please don't listen to this song on laptop speakers. Slash absolutely fucking goes for it.
27.) "Beat It" (Michael Jackson)
Eddie Van Halen turns in the greatest guest solo ever on this classic MJ track from Thriller (Dave Chapelle: "The man made Thriller...Thriller). Eddie again proves that he reigns supreme over his ragtag group of shred-army followers by delivering a solo just as catchy as Michael's song. Full of his signature movies--finger-tapping, artificial harmonics, and a buzz-saw tone--this solo has a concise sense of composition to it, like Vai's in "Ladies Nite in Buffalo" and Randy Rhoads's in "Flying High Again." Best part: the first note--a chainsaw starting up.
26.) "Satch Boogie" (Joe Satriani)
Like Joe's other signature tune, "Surfing with the Alien," "Satch Boogie" combines old-school rock 'n' roll with lightning-fast licks, throwing in an otherworldly, alien feel that befits an album called Surfing with the Alien. Joe careens through the first half of the song, driven by his drummer's blistering tempo. Amateurs would have trouble just trying to keep up with a tempo over 200BPM, but Joe allows his honed sense of craft to carry him throughout, delivering an almost impossible set of bluesy licks and runs (although these are only "bluesy" in the loosest sense, since they range from hand-crippling to just insane). It's an interesting song, because the actual solo is so unlike the rest of it. After hanging on through almost two minutes of Satch's deranged version of a boogie, we are dropped into the most otherworldly moment on an album that brims with them: a completely finger-tapped solo using an effect that makes it seem like you are inside of a glass cube at the bottom of the ocean. Now that I think of it, that intense echo and distortion reminds me of what an IV cocaine bellringer sounds like. I love how the solo exudes a completely different vibe than the rest of the song. It is groovy where the rest is chaotic. It lounges in its scalar haunts, unlike the rest of the song, which careens from melody to melody and scale to scale, only occasionally repeating its main theme. The solo is jaw-dropping in its absurd sense of technique, but especially in its ability to create its own universe through tonal effects and the uniqueness of Joe's writing. This idea that solos do not always have to mirror the mood of the rest of the song--that they can be their own separate entities, full of atmosphere and character--is something Joe began to explore in this song and continued throughout the rest of his career.
25.) "Kid Charlemagne" (Steely Dan)
Steely Dan was not known for being a guitar-driven rock band. Instead, they were a sophisticated songwriting duo that were able to match their insightful, cutting lyrics with equally sophisticated songscapes, by cherry-picking the best talent from LA's studio musician community. Here jazz-fusion guitarist Larry Carlton rises to the occasion on a song about about a famous LSD chemist who grew reclusive and paranoid as the hippie era ended, transforming into the bitter hangover that we now know as the 1970's. Like many great guitar songs, this has two equally staggering solos. The first is a clinic on phrasing, as Carlton knows instinctively just where to place each lick, and the end result is a hopelessly beautiful solo which I find impossible not to sing along with.
The second, fade-out solo is comes at just the right moment in the song. It has such an optimistic tone to it that I can't help waiting the entire song just to hear it. I believe this one was largely improvised. The two solos in this stand as some of the brightest solos in rock history (up there with George Harrison's in "Nowhere Man"). It's interesting that both of these songs have rather depressing and cynical lyrics, yet have such sparkling solos.
24.) "Stairway to Heaven" (Led Zeppelin)
When a lot of us think of guitar solos, our minds immediately go to Jimmy Page's foundational work in "Stairway to Heaven." His ending solo is like the icing on top of a cake: what would already be great is turned legendary by Page's divine sense of phrasing and composition. Frankly, that is what sets the higher solos on this list apart from those behind them. A truly great guitarist can paint a picture using his solos. He can create a towering entity within itself, encapsulated inside the rest of the song. While there are plenty of great one-dimensional solos out there, those that have incredibly fast or complex playing or a great-sounding tone, the truly great solos have a sense of their own self, independent from the rest of the song. "Stairway" is such a majestic solo that it is often ranked as the number one greatest of all time. It releases all of the energy which has been building up throughout the previous six minutes of the song in the astonishing cavalcade of Page's guitar. What I think of when I hear this solo is the maturity of age and experience--when one has enough experience to know that less is more, and to be able to proceed gracefully through all of the trials and tribulations of each day of existence in this old world.
23.) "Sultans of Swing" (Dire Straits)
Mark Knopfler is an unsung guitar hero. I've already paid him some tribute by putting "Brothers in Arms" on this list, but wow, why doesn't the guitarist of "Sultans of Swing" get more credit? Famous for his finger-picking style and the groovy headbands which he seemed to never shed, "Sultans" will always go down as his masterpiece, both in terms of songwriting and for its spectacularly clean and precise guitar work. Every single vocal line is followed by just the right guitar phrase. I think what makes a great guitarist is not necessarily his technical ability, but his ability to craft memorable musical phrases. It doesn't really matter how fast you can play if you can't make a hummable phrase to save your life. "Sultans of Swing" is like a compendium of great blues licks. And that's to speak nothing of the two solos (two-solo songs FTW!), which are dazzling displays of absolute clarity (I'm guessing this is because he doesn't use a pick on them) and purpose. The two solos in this actually remind me somewhat of "Kid Charlemagne." The first one is a model of elegant restraint, while on the second, improvised-sounding one, Knopfler lets loose and goes for it (well, at least "goes for it" as much as a perfectionist like him can...I can't imagine Knopfler ever letting go too much, for fear of making a mistake or creating a sloppy-sounding line).
22.) "Highway Star" (Deep Purple)
There's nothing to say that a great guitar solo has to reside in a particularly original or fabulous song. Make no mistake, "Highway Star" is completely driven by the keyboard and guitar solos in it. Otherwise, it's a pretty stupid song about cars. Who are you--the Beach Boys? Guitarist Ritchie Blackmore is able to top Jon Lord's fabulous keyboard/organ solo, astonishingly. The solo opens with something that I can't really describe accurately--something which I've seen before in "Black Dog." It's a particular kind of electrified guitar twang that sounds like a European version of honky-tonk music. Blackmore tops even the legendary Jimmy Page (one of my top five guitarists) in this strange domain, and then firmly cements his dominance with an astonishing set of closing legato licks that provide counterpoint to the previous keyboard solo. The licks sound to be double- or triple-tracked, which adds to the their crushing power.
21.) "Cause We've Ended as Lovers" (Jeff Beck)
This is the guitar solo that I've heard come closest to Steve Vai's ballads. It is an entire song composed of a slowly building, elegant, and utterly beautiful guitar solo. Perhaps the finest feature of Jeff Beck (the third of the British Holy Trinity, alongside Jimmy Page and Eric Clapton) is his ability to manipulate the tone and sound of his guitar using just his hands. He has such an amazing ability to control his instrument in a way that is almost unsurpassed. He showcases this intimacy with his instrument in this song, written by Steve Wonder (here's the original--I like it even more; its delicacy is absolutely unparalleled in pop music history), which allows him to build from the saxophone-like moans from the darkness that open the song to a blistering, cathartic shriek against a lost lover (and, indeed, love itself) at the climax. The song/solo isn't necessarily about these two extremes, but it's about the journey there. This is the spiritual brethren of "Tender Surrender" by Steve Vai. Although they are about two different phases of love, they both exemplify that life is about the journey we make unknowingly toward whatever irrelevant goals we make for ourselves. After all, fate plays such a large part in our lives that it is at the very least questionable to say that we have much control over our own fate. To quote John Lennon (and thanks, Bethany, for mentioning this), "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." What I get out of "Cause We've Ended as Lovers" is an appreciation for the little details in both music and life. The high, wavering note at the end is like angels crying.
20.) "Crazy Train" (Ozzy Osbourne)
My apologies for the live video, but YouTube seems to have cracked down hard on Ozzy videos (I hope to God I can find a studio one for "Mr. Crowley," or at least the Tribute version, which is just as good). Also, what the fuck's up with the new YouTube format? I don't like it, but I guess that's what we think every time a popular site changes it's format (I'm looking at you, Blogger.com...didn't you used to be fucking Blogspot or something?!).
What a pristine gem this solo is! Not in this live version, mind you, where we miss the triple-tracked glean of Rhoads's studio version, but I can't think of a more exciting and dazzling solo delivered in as short a time as Randy's in "Crazy Train." This song already has one of the all-time great guitar riffs, but that solo is what pushes it over the edge into a metal classic. Fuck Ozzy. His solo years were about his guitarists as far as I'm concerned. Not that I hate him, but really, why is his name always on the CD when he probably isn't even writing any of the songs? "Crazy Train"'s solo has the sense of concise structure that Rhoads was known for. Every note is as it should be, and the solo begins and ends just precisely where it musically should. He utilizes the studio technique of triple-tracking to make the tapping licks and trills sound even faster than they are. This shows Randy's determination to nail just the right sound on each of his solos. He had an eye for composition that ranks him up there with the best guitarists of all time. Along with Yngwie Malmsteen and Deep Purple's Ritchie Blackmore, Randy Rhoads brought the classical tradition of symmetrical and mathematical composition into heavy metal.
PS: I found a link if you want to listen to Randy's guitar track in the original (sans everything else in the song): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nC0wepBfog&feature=fvsr. Enjoy the solo!
--Edward
Without further adieu, here are the next ten:
29.) "Burning Rain" (Steve Vai)
Another classic off of Vai's live album Alive in an Ultra World, this is I believe his song for Japan. This is a solo of buildup (my favorite kind?), and has the feeling of oriental murkiness and opium languor that I find especially sexy. The second half of the song is basically just one long voyage into the steamy streets of Bangcok or Calcutta or some other exotic place. At 3:50, Vai brings us back to the more familiar world of his shredding, but it's hard to shake the sense of unease from the exotic musical quality of what came before. The backdrop of sitar is a nice touch. There is something so sexy about the vacant-eyed quality of his playing on here--he seems eternally a fraction of a second behind the beat. Perhaps that is what some of us find sexy about heroin or Kristen Stewart.
28.) "Paradise City" (Guns N' Roses)
Ah, this wouldn't be a guitar solos list without Slash on it. I have a hard time picking between the three GNR songs on this list, because they all bring something completely different to the table. I don't think there had been a song that rocked as hard as "Paradise" in a good decade when Appetite for Destruction came out in '87. This song is all about the band meshing together, its parts forming a much greater whole when they managed to keep their self-destructive tendencies and egos in check. The weak link for GNR was always (of course) Axl to me, and this is just one of many examples of him shrieking over Slash's solo. The man can fucking play guitar--why is there a need to scream over his solos? Ugh. The end of this song is probably the greatest '80s hard rock moment there is. Please don't listen to this song on laptop speakers. Slash absolutely fucking goes for it.
27.) "Beat It" (Michael Jackson)
Eddie Van Halen turns in the greatest guest solo ever on this classic MJ track from Thriller (Dave Chapelle: "The man made Thriller...Thriller). Eddie again proves that he reigns supreme over his ragtag group of shred-army followers by delivering a solo just as catchy as Michael's song. Full of his signature movies--finger-tapping, artificial harmonics, and a buzz-saw tone--this solo has a concise sense of composition to it, like Vai's in "Ladies Nite in Buffalo" and Randy Rhoads's in "Flying High Again." Best part: the first note--a chainsaw starting up.
26.) "Satch Boogie" (Joe Satriani)
Like Joe's other signature tune, "Surfing with the Alien," "Satch Boogie" combines old-school rock 'n' roll with lightning-fast licks, throwing in an otherworldly, alien feel that befits an album called Surfing with the Alien. Joe careens through the first half of the song, driven by his drummer's blistering tempo. Amateurs would have trouble just trying to keep up with a tempo over 200BPM, but Joe allows his honed sense of craft to carry him throughout, delivering an almost impossible set of bluesy licks and runs (although these are only "bluesy" in the loosest sense, since they range from hand-crippling to just insane). It's an interesting song, because the actual solo is so unlike the rest of it. After hanging on through almost two minutes of Satch's deranged version of a boogie, we are dropped into the most otherworldly moment on an album that brims with them: a completely finger-tapped solo using an effect that makes it seem like you are inside of a glass cube at the bottom of the ocean. Now that I think of it, that intense echo and distortion reminds me of what an IV cocaine bellringer sounds like. I love how the solo exudes a completely different vibe than the rest of the song. It is groovy where the rest is chaotic. It lounges in its scalar haunts, unlike the rest of the song, which careens from melody to melody and scale to scale, only occasionally repeating its main theme. The solo is jaw-dropping in its absurd sense of technique, but especially in its ability to create its own universe through tonal effects and the uniqueness of Joe's writing. This idea that solos do not always have to mirror the mood of the rest of the song--that they can be their own separate entities, full of atmosphere and character--is something Joe began to explore in this song and continued throughout the rest of his career.
25.) "Kid Charlemagne" (Steely Dan)
Steely Dan was not known for being a guitar-driven rock band. Instead, they were a sophisticated songwriting duo that were able to match their insightful, cutting lyrics with equally sophisticated songscapes, by cherry-picking the best talent from LA's studio musician community. Here jazz-fusion guitarist Larry Carlton rises to the occasion on a song about about a famous LSD chemist who grew reclusive and paranoid as the hippie era ended, transforming into the bitter hangover that we now know as the 1970's. Like many great guitar songs, this has two equally staggering solos. The first is a clinic on phrasing, as Carlton knows instinctively just where to place each lick, and the end result is a hopelessly beautiful solo which I find impossible not to sing along with.
The second, fade-out solo is comes at just the right moment in the song. It has such an optimistic tone to it that I can't help waiting the entire song just to hear it. I believe this one was largely improvised. The two solos in this stand as some of the brightest solos in rock history (up there with George Harrison's in "Nowhere Man"). It's interesting that both of these songs have rather depressing and cynical lyrics, yet have such sparkling solos.
24.) "Stairway to Heaven" (Led Zeppelin)
When a lot of us think of guitar solos, our minds immediately go to Jimmy Page's foundational work in "Stairway to Heaven." His ending solo is like the icing on top of a cake: what would already be great is turned legendary by Page's divine sense of phrasing and composition. Frankly, that is what sets the higher solos on this list apart from those behind them. A truly great guitarist can paint a picture using his solos. He can create a towering entity within itself, encapsulated inside the rest of the song. While there are plenty of great one-dimensional solos out there, those that have incredibly fast or complex playing or a great-sounding tone, the truly great solos have a sense of their own self, independent from the rest of the song. "Stairway" is such a majestic solo that it is often ranked as the number one greatest of all time. It releases all of the energy which has been building up throughout the previous six minutes of the song in the astonishing cavalcade of Page's guitar. What I think of when I hear this solo is the maturity of age and experience--when one has enough experience to know that less is more, and to be able to proceed gracefully through all of the trials and tribulations of each day of existence in this old world.
23.) "Sultans of Swing" (Dire Straits)
Mark Knopfler is an unsung guitar hero. I've already paid him some tribute by putting "Brothers in Arms" on this list, but wow, why doesn't the guitarist of "Sultans of Swing" get more credit? Famous for his finger-picking style and the groovy headbands which he seemed to never shed, "Sultans" will always go down as his masterpiece, both in terms of songwriting and for its spectacularly clean and precise guitar work. Every single vocal line is followed by just the right guitar phrase. I think what makes a great guitarist is not necessarily his technical ability, but his ability to craft memorable musical phrases. It doesn't really matter how fast you can play if you can't make a hummable phrase to save your life. "Sultans of Swing" is like a compendium of great blues licks. And that's to speak nothing of the two solos (two-solo songs FTW!), which are dazzling displays of absolute clarity (I'm guessing this is because he doesn't use a pick on them) and purpose. The two solos in this actually remind me somewhat of "Kid Charlemagne." The first one is a model of elegant restraint, while on the second, improvised-sounding one, Knopfler lets loose and goes for it (well, at least "goes for it" as much as a perfectionist like him can...I can't imagine Knopfler ever letting go too much, for fear of making a mistake or creating a sloppy-sounding line).
22.) "Highway Star" (Deep Purple)
There's nothing to say that a great guitar solo has to reside in a particularly original or fabulous song. Make no mistake, "Highway Star" is completely driven by the keyboard and guitar solos in it. Otherwise, it's a pretty stupid song about cars. Who are you--the Beach Boys? Guitarist Ritchie Blackmore is able to top Jon Lord's fabulous keyboard/organ solo, astonishingly. The solo opens with something that I can't really describe accurately--something which I've seen before in "Black Dog." It's a particular kind of electrified guitar twang that sounds like a European version of honky-tonk music. Blackmore tops even the legendary Jimmy Page (one of my top five guitarists) in this strange domain, and then firmly cements his dominance with an astonishing set of closing legato licks that provide counterpoint to the previous keyboard solo. The licks sound to be double- or triple-tracked, which adds to the their crushing power.
21.) "Cause We've Ended as Lovers" (Jeff Beck)
This is the guitar solo that I've heard come closest to Steve Vai's ballads. It is an entire song composed of a slowly building, elegant, and utterly beautiful guitar solo. Perhaps the finest feature of Jeff Beck (the third of the British Holy Trinity, alongside Jimmy Page and Eric Clapton) is his ability to manipulate the tone and sound of his guitar using just his hands. He has such an amazing ability to control his instrument in a way that is almost unsurpassed. He showcases this intimacy with his instrument in this song, written by Steve Wonder (here's the original--I like it even more; its delicacy is absolutely unparalleled in pop music history), which allows him to build from the saxophone-like moans from the darkness that open the song to a blistering, cathartic shriek against a lost lover (and, indeed, love itself) at the climax. The song/solo isn't necessarily about these two extremes, but it's about the journey there. This is the spiritual brethren of "Tender Surrender" by Steve Vai. Although they are about two different phases of love, they both exemplify that life is about the journey we make unknowingly toward whatever irrelevant goals we make for ourselves. After all, fate plays such a large part in our lives that it is at the very least questionable to say that we have much control over our own fate. To quote John Lennon (and thanks, Bethany, for mentioning this), "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." What I get out of "Cause We've Ended as Lovers" is an appreciation for the little details in both music and life. The high, wavering note at the end is like angels crying.
20.) "Crazy Train" (Ozzy Osbourne)
My apologies for the live video, but YouTube seems to have cracked down hard on Ozzy videos (I hope to God I can find a studio one for "Mr. Crowley," or at least the Tribute version, which is just as good). Also, what the fuck's up with the new YouTube format? I don't like it, but I guess that's what we think every time a popular site changes it's format (I'm looking at you, Blogger.com...didn't you used to be fucking Blogspot or something?!).
What a pristine gem this solo is! Not in this live version, mind you, where we miss the triple-tracked glean of Rhoads's studio version, but I can't think of a more exciting and dazzling solo delivered in as short a time as Randy's in "Crazy Train." This song already has one of the all-time great guitar riffs, but that solo is what pushes it over the edge into a metal classic. Fuck Ozzy. His solo years were about his guitarists as far as I'm concerned. Not that I hate him, but really, why is his name always on the CD when he probably isn't even writing any of the songs? "Crazy Train"'s solo has the sense of concise structure that Rhoads was known for. Every note is as it should be, and the solo begins and ends just precisely where it musically should. He utilizes the studio technique of triple-tracking to make the tapping licks and trills sound even faster than they are. This shows Randy's determination to nail just the right sound on each of his solos. He had an eye for composition that ranks him up there with the best guitarists of all time. Along with Yngwie Malmsteen and Deep Purple's Ritchie Blackmore, Randy Rhoads brought the classical tradition of symmetrical and mathematical composition into heavy metal.
PS: I found a link if you want to listen to Randy's guitar track in the original (sans everything else in the song): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nC0wepBfog&feature=fvsr. Enjoy the solo!
--Edward
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