Consider Neil Young, for example.  He’s been a fixture of the rock ‘n’ roll scene since the 1960s and has had successful musical releases in each of the intervening decades.  But, even by the high standards of his career, the 1970s were remarkable.  Consider the astonishing albums he produced during that magical decade:  After The Gold Rush (1970), Harvest (1972), Tonight’s The Night (1975), Zuma (1975), American Stars ‘N Bars (1977), Comes A Time (1978), and Rust Never Sleeps (1979).  Many musicians would gladly claim what he produced during that single, prolific decade and call it an entire career.

And what a range!  He moved effortlessly from acoustic work that included all-time folk classics like Old Man (performed live below), Heart of Gold, and The Needle And The Damage Done, to country songs like The Old Country Waltz and Hey Babe, to crushing power rock, with Like A Hurricane and Hey, Hey, My, My (Into The Black).  He wrote great political anthems (Ohio), funny, boozy ballads (Saddle Up The Palomino), raggedy, ironic songs about losers (Tired Eyes) and long, dreamy ruminations about ancient civilizations (Cortez The Killer).

We can all be grateful for whatever it was that impelled Neil Young, again and again and again during the 1970s, to pick up his guitar or sit down at his piano and let his awesome creative juices flow.  As a diehard Neil Young fan, I can’t imagine what the music world would be like if he hadn’t done so, and I was left to face life alone, without songs like World on a String.  But I will always wonder — just what was it?

I’m not a huge Elton John fan.  I found his later, over-the-top Liberace-style phase off-putting — but I think his early work is really, really good.  Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters is one of my favorite songs from that era, with its beautiful melody and cryptic yet evocative lyrics.  Even now, I can’t walk into a subway station without singing to my inner self:  “Subway’s no way . . . for a good man to go down . . . “

Bowie is an interesting character for a lot of reasons and has produced a lot of memorable music.  Bowie wrote All The Young Dudes — the epic song from the legendary band Mott the Hoople — and his playlist includes classics like The Jean Genie, Space Oddity, Diamond Dogs, and Changes, among many others.  Bowie is one of those artists who seems to leap easily from genre to genre, from hard rock to pop and back again.

To me, however, the greatest of Bowie’s many musical achievements is The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, which I think is one of the very best rock albums ever made.  From Five Years to the initial chords of Moonage Daydream (“I’m an alligator . . . . “) to It Ain’t Easy to the power riffs of Ziggy Stardust (“Ziggy played guitar . . . .”) to the finale of Rock ‘N’ Roll Suicide (“Time takes a cigarette and puts it in your mouth . . . .”), the album is filled with stunningly good songs that are as interesting and powerful today, 40 years after they were first released, as they were back in 1972.

So Happy Birthday to you, Mr. Bowie.  You have made your mark.  And here’s a 1972 performance of Starman, another great song from the Ziggy Stardust album, that the rest of us can use to celebrate your big day.

The Book of Mormon is the latest work of Trey Parker and Matt Stone, and it has all of the comedic elements you would expect from the creators of South Park.  It follows the misadventures of a mismatched team of two Mormon companions as they complete their training and leave on their mission of conversion to a small, war-torn, AIDS-riddled village in Africa.  It is profane, obscene, irreverent, and hilarious — and yet has a positive message lurking amidst the skewering of religious belief and simple faith.

Of course, people don’t go to Broadway musicals for deep ruminations about religion — they go for singing, dancing, and laughs.  The Book of Mormon delivers on all fronts.  From the bell-ringing opening, to Turn It Off, about the Mormon trick of dealing with bad thoughts, to Spooky Mormon Hell Dream, which features appearances by Jesus, Satan, Johnny Cochran, Jeffrey Daumer, and Hitler, among others, this show is packed with great song-and-dance numbers and funny lines.  The fact that most of the singing and dancing is done by buttoned-down, clean cut, chipper Mormons in their white, short sleeve shirts, black pants, black ties, and black shoes, just adds to the enjoyment.

Christmas With Dino is a good example of intelligent matching of song and artist.  Dean Martin’s well-lubricated, jovial singing style isn’t exactly well-suited to religious carols like O Holy Night or We Three Kings (unless he sang the version about the rubber cigar).  But it’s pitch-perfect for the lighter songs of the season, songs that celebrate snow, snuggling with your significant other, swinging parties, and general holiday merrymaking.

There are lots of good songs on this album.  My favorites are Let It Snow, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (or, Rudy the red-beaked reindeer, as Dino sings at one point), Christmas Blues, Jingle Bells, and I’ve Got My Love To Keep Me Warm.  The best song, I think, is a definitive version of Baby, It’s Cold Outside, with Martina Mcbride singing the role of the indecisive female.  You just know that, by the time the song has ended, his entreaties and well-made cocktails have convinced his lady friend to cast aside her worries about her maiden aunt and spend some more quality time with ol’ Dino.

In case you missed it, the 2012 inductees in the “performer” category are the Beastie Boys, Donovan, Guns N’ Roses, Laura Nyro, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Faces/Small Faces.  Yawn.  Really?  Laura Nyro wrote some nice songs for the likes of The Fifth Dimension, and now she’s in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?  The Beastie Boys are a rock and roll act, and not wannabe rappers?  (I’m not quite sure how the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame even defines “rock and roll.”  Any genre that encompasses Neil Diamond (a 2011 inductee), ABBA (a 2010 inductee), and the Beastie Boys, among others, is not focused with laser-like precision on “rock and roll” as I understand it.)  Do any of these guys really deserve mention in the same breath as, say, Chuck Berry, Elvis Presley, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and Bruce Springsteen?  Is the motivation behind enshrinement of these new inductees recognizing giants and ground-breakers — or is it just wanting to have a few more acts to perform at the 2012 induction ceremony and TV broadcast?

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has become reflective of a culture where everyone gets a trophy.  If you’ve written a few decent songs and had a few hits, you’ll probably get in.  It’s like the Baseball Hall of Fame.  The first class, in 1936, included only five true superstars — Ty Cobb, Christy Mathewson, Babe Ruth, Honus Wagner, and Walter Johnson.  The years pass, and after the turn of the century the Hall is down to admitting players like Bill Mazeroski and Ron Santo.

If the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame wants to mean anything, it needs to commit itself to being truly selective and to limiting its scope to real rock and roll, not every musical form that has existed in popular culture since 1950.  The exhibits to inductees like the Beastie Boys and ABBA are just clutter that will get in the way of visitors who want to see Buddy Holly memorabilia or learn more about the music of The Doors.

A Christmas CD sounds attractive for lots of reasons.  You wouldn’t need to write any new songs.  Flip through the pages of the American Christmas music songbook, pick out the songs you want to record, hire some studio musicians, book a week of studio time, and you’re set.  It’s cheap, and straightforward, and your dedicated fans will probably buy just about anything you produce.

And yet . . . if you were a real artist, and not just a fad act looking to make a quick buck, doing a Christmas CD should fill you with trepidation.  It’s daunting to follow in Bing Crosby’s footsteps and sing the same songs he put his stamp on.  And unless you want to go to the fringes of Christmas music and fill your CD with novelty numbers like All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth and Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer, that’s exactly what you’re going to have to do.  How do you bring something new and fresh to songs that have been sung thousands of times by different artists and are as familiar to listeners as Happy Birthday?

I love to listen to Christmas music when December rolls around, and one of the things I like about it is hearing how different artists have tackled the standards.  You wouldn’t think anybody could produce a White Christmas that could contend with Bing Crosby’s definitive treatment, but the Drifters’ doo-wop version, Oscar Peterson’s jazzy take, and Linda Ronstadt’s duet with Rosemary Clooney are each as enjoyable and memorable, in their own way, as Crosby’s rendering.  In fact, you could argue that the very familiarity of Christmas songs has caused artists to experiment and push the boundaries of the music — often to good effect.  Christmas music is flexible enough to work with the Windham Hill approach, jazz stylings, choral backing, rock ‘n’ roll, and other genres.

We should applaud artists who release Christmas CDs.  Some of them will suck, for sure . . . but every now and then someone will rise to the challenge and hit upon an arrangement or approach that gives a new perspective to an old favorite, and add to the long roster of holiday classics that we can enjoy, again and again, in holidays to come.

I was saddened to read of the passing of Dobie Gray, the singer and musician most famous for the classic song Drift Away.

Drift Away was recorded when I was in high school, and it almost immediately became, and for nearly 40 years has remained, a staple of FM radio playlists.  Everyone seemed to like the gentle tune and the lyrics, with their universal message of people turning to music and getting lost in song when they were down or confused.

This YouTube video of Gray performing the song on the BBC isn’t of the greatest quality, but I can’t let Gray’s death pass without posting him performing this terrific song.  Dobie Gray was 71.

What a pleasant surprise!  After they finished, we thanked them and wished them happy holidays.  They looked like they were having a good time, and they made our evening a bit more merry, too.  Kish and I both recalled going out caroling when we were kids, and how much fun it was to be outside, singing those old familiar songs.

The group was affiliated with GnG Music Instruction, 45 Second Street, Suite B, here in New Albany, which all kinds of vocal and instrumental music instruction.  They deserve a plug after brightening our evening and bringing back some great childhood memories.

It’s hard to argue that with conclusion.  It’s a 3 CD, concert DVD, vinyl record, coffee table book “boxed set” called Return of the Spectacular Spinning Songbook that carries an absurd $225 price tag.  Costello tried to get the record company to reduce the inflated price.  When it wouldn’t, he wrote on his website that he couldn’t recommend the boxed set to anyone because the price was either “a misprint or a satire,” and he recommended a collection from Louis Armstrong instead.

Good for Elvis Costello!  He’s showed that he’s not just in it for the cash and that he’s willing to call his record label when their price gouging gets to the point of ludicrousness.  If only more artists were willing to stand up to the money-at-all-costs views of their publishers and record companies!

I just now listened once again to Paul Simon’s epic, brilliant American Tune — and it spoke to me again, as it always does, even though it was first recorded more than 35 years ago, in a different context, for a different America.

Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band perform Sunspot Baby

Last night Kish and I and a group of friends — stoked by a massive, family-style meal from nearby Buca di Beppo — watched Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band rock out Nationwide Arena in Columbus.  Seger is an old pro who knows how to please a crowd, and he and his bandmates put on a high-quality show that delighted a close-to-full house.

Seger and the band, featuring long-time saxophonist Alto Reed, pumped out a huge sound.  In two sets separated by a brief intermission, Seger faithfully performed most of his greatest hits, and they play well in a large arena.  Highlights of the first set included The Fire Down Below — which really got the crowd cranked up for the rest of the show — Feel Like A Number, and Old Time Rock & Roll as well as an early Christmas treat:  The Little Drummer Boy.  The second set featured Sunspot Baby, Her Strut (written about Jane Fonda, Seger explained), Turn the Page, and a rousing, bring-down-the-house rendition of Katmandu that closed the show.  Seger and the band then performed two encores, ending the evening with Night Moves and Rock & Roll Never Forgets.

Seger still has a lot of energy, and he moved from side to side on the stage, pumping his fists to the music and engaging in a number of call and response interactions with the audience.  He might not be able to reach all of the highest notes, but Seger still seems to be in good voice — although at times it was hard to tell, because the fired-up members of the audience happily sang every word of every song right along with him.  At times I wasn’t sure whether I was hearing more of Seger or the beer-swilling biker to my right — but then, I sang along with a few of the songs myself.

Seger has a devoted cadre of fans who’ve seen him perform many times.  After watching him deliver a fine show at Nationwide Arena, you can understand why.

The show is supposed to be good, at least according to this review of Seger’s Ypsilanti, Michigan concert published in the Morning Sun newspaper.   It’s going to be kind of weird to see the concert, however, because I went to see Bob Seger when he came to Columbus in, I’m guessing, 1976.  He played either Vets’ Memorial or Mershon Auditorium.  As I recall, it was a good show — which is not surprising.  This is a guy who has been playing rock ‘n’ roll for years.  Songs like Katmandu and Night Moves and Old Time Rock ‘N’ Roll are classics.  And, I also have to like any Midwestern musical artist named Bob, even if he was born in Ann Arbor, Michigan.

What’s weird is when I think of how much I have changed since that concert in 1976.  If my current self were somehow able to meet my 1976 self, I would probably think I was a real jerk.  Given how much I’ve changed in the 35 (!) intervening years, how can Bob Seger possibly be performing, with the same fervor, the same songs he wrote so long ago?  You have to hand it to him.

What can I say?  I’m a child of the ’60s.  I remember watching The Monkees TV show when I was a kid, thinking it was funny, and liking the music.  My sister, along with most girls, liked Davy Jones.  My favorite Monkee was Mickey Dolenz.  Some of my friends liked Peter Tork because he was funny; others liked Mike Nesmith because he always wore a stocking cap with a yarn ball on top.  I didn’t care that people said the Monkees didn’t play the instruments on their records, and I didn’t care that the TV show was silly gags combined with a shameless rip-off of The Beatles in Help! and A Hard Day’s Night.

When The Monkees went off the air I continued to buy and listen to their records. I listened to them in college in the ’70s, when Monkees tunes were among the most popular played at our Omnibus dance parties.  And I think their music still holds up today.  Unlike the hits of Bobby Sherman, or The Partridge Family, or other pre-packaged TV/music crossovers, The Monkees songs were high-quality pop, salted with a bit — and just a bit — of the psychedelic edginess that characterized lots of ’60s music.  Songs like Last Train to Clarksville, I’m A Believer, and Pleasant Valley Sunday remain great tracks.

My favorite Monkees tune is Tomorrow’s Gonna Be Another Day, from their debut album.  The YouTube clip of the TV show video of the song portrays the zany, antic Monkees in full A Hard Day’s Night rip-off mode, but the song is still a classic:

My friend and partner Carl Smallwood and his wife, Connie, are just about the biggest band boosters you can imagine.  It’s no surprise, really.  Their daughter, Jocelyn, is a Sousaphone player in the Ohio State University Marching Band — The Best Damn Band In The Land — and their son, Nate, is the talented drum major for the Upper Arlington High School Marching Band.

Carl’s dream, I think, would be for Nate to become the drum major for TBDBITL next year and lead Jocelyn out to dot the “i” when the Band performs Script Ohio in the home game against Michigan next year.  How cool would that be?

It’s not an impossible dream, either.  Jocelyn is already on target to be the i-dotter for next year’s Michigan game and — as this YouTube video of Nate’s performance at a recent OSU Marching Band Skull Session indicates — he’s got the ability to make Carl’s dream a reality.