Two Songs For Strangers

How do you pick two songs to share with strangers? That's the premise of the so-called False 45^th Record Club, an informal group of music fans who meet up in Montpelier to share a few drinks and songs every now and again. The result—both socially and sonically—is eclectic, educational and, well, only slightly less geeky than a dungeons and dragons meeting. So far it's also a bit of a white male thing, but we're travelling hopefully.

Record Club #2 happened recently at Montpelier's Black Door. Leading up to it, the hardest thing, of course, was: What two songs to pick?

For some reason I knew that I wanted to contribute a garage-rock song by Bellingham (WA) band the Mono Men (though I briefly considered a grungy thing by Hammerbox). But I ran through several options for my second song--before more or less tossing a coin. It shouldn't have been a big deal; odds are the songs would not get played adjacent to each other (playback on Club night and on the discs we all come home with is completely random). But still, I certainly wouldn't pick another garage-rock or surf-rock thing if my first song was going to be the Mono Men. So what to consider?

One that almost made it was "Why Can't He be You," by Patsy Cline, which would have made for a nice counterpoint to the Mono Men, and added to the female (and country & western) balance sheet—both of which were in short supply at the first Record Club.

I tried out several Gang of Four songs, but maybe the forced-monotone of, say, "At Home He Feels Like a Tourist" might have been a little much for the ostensibly upbeat atmosphere of a record club gathering. Or, sadly, a little dated.

Taking a different tack I almost went with the post-apocalyptic cabaret stylings of the Tiger Lillies: I considered "Russians," which seemed topical, too, given that Russia had recently invaded Georgia. Then again, "Slough" at least had an accordion, and had a zippy bounce to it (Slough, a city in the UK, must be a swell place to live). In the end, I wasn't quite ready to drop Martin Jacques' counter-tenor vocals on a room full of half-drunken strangers. Still, you have to admire a band that not only has a member named Adrian Large but another one named Adrian Huge.

Conor Oberst (also known as—wince--Bright Eyes) almost made the cut with his lovely duet with Emmylou Harris, "Landlocked Blues." I'm late to the whole Bright Eyes thing, having been amazingly put off by the name. But this song captures something about the way wartime events interweave themselves into our private lives--and we are at war, right? Plus, I love the trumpet solo in the middle—playing "Taps," I think. But Conor Oberst is quite popular these days, and I didn't want to roll any eyes at the Record Club. Rightly or wrongly I take it as an unspoken rule that you're not supposed to share the obvious.

Finally I decided to counter the simple garage-ness of the Mono Men with some classic soul: "Aint No Sunshine," by Bill Withers. I've always loved this song, even though I completely forgot about it for a decade or two. It's a song that evokes a wistful time for me--and even a particular year at summer camp. Go Camp Tousey! (Go Record Club!)

Tiger Lillies: "Slough"


Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Slough
It isn't fit for humans now
There isn't grass to graze a cow.
Swarm over, death!

-John Betjemen, 1937