Follow You, Follow Me

Someone asked me not too long ago what my all-time favorite Genesis song was. After running down a few dozen candidates, I was shocked to realize this just may be it. Probably not–more likely "Ripples" or "Turn It On Again" or "Cinema Show" or one of their instrumentals. No, wait, maybe it's "Blood on the Rootops." Or maybe "Dancing with the Moonlight Knight." Whatever. "Follow You, Follow Me" is a strong contender and there have certainly been times it was it.

And this cover more than lives up to the original. Mike Rutherford's oddly syncopated guitar works wonderfully on the original, and is absolutely absent here. Instead, it's got a plainly strummed guitar, an interestingly building Enossification of the backing tracks, and of course, Mark Kozelek's warm, hushed vocal, which manage to convey a delicate tenderness, and a haunted gravitas at the same time. Something about his voice makes it hard not to suspect that he's singing this to someone who's already left him. Which makes the opening words all the more effective.

Ålesund

Mark Kozelek has said that he recorded the Sun Kil Moon album Admiral Fell Promises after listening to a lot of Andrés Segovia. That's as may be but boy howdy but it sounds like he'd listened to a lot of Steve Hackett in his day as well. (The fact that he's covered both Peter Gabriel-era Genesis and post-PG Genesis also makes me suspect this.)

Livingstone Bramble

So. As previously mentioned, Mark Kozelek has a new album, his second collaboration with Desertshore. And there's more than one song named after a boxer—a Kozelek trademark—but unlike "Tavoris Cloud," this one, with lyrics perhaps nearly as autobiographical, isn't heartbreaking. Rather, it's maybe the best smack-talking song ever about the pantheon of great guitarists. (Admittedly, there isn't a whole lot of competition.) I mean, how can you beat:

I can play like Fripp or Johnny Marr 
And I can play circles 'round Jay Farrar
I like Jeff Beck and Page just fine
But I hate Derek Trucks and Nels Cline
I hate Nels Cline

followed by a parody of Cline's trademark wiggity-wiggity-woo. (Of which I'm very much a fan, incidentally.)





(I love the idea of Jay Farrar looking up and saying, in a McNutty voice, "what'd I do?!")

But is Kozelek done? Not even close. He hasn't gone after the big daddy yet.

I can play like Malcolm and Neil Young 
And I can play circles 'round most anyone
I like Kirk Hammett and Steve Vai 
But I hate Eric Clapton and Nels Cline
I hate Nels Cline

Listen, I love Mark Kozelek, and although he mainly plays nylon-string acoustic these days, he is indeed one hell of an electric guitarist. But Eric Clapton, now...now you're playing with fire. And if you're gonna come at the king, you best not...ah, the hell with it. Slowhand's a big boy and Kozelek's laconic rumble gives the impression of either utter assurance that his absurd assertions are indisputable or he's taking the piss and doesn't really care much that you know it's not true and at the end of the day the point is that this is awesome.

Tavoris Cloud

So Mark Kozelek has a new album. Not a huge surprise—after all, it'd been several months since his previous release. Once again, it's a collaboration, and once again, it's with Desertshore, a band led by former Red House Painters guitarist Phil Carney. And, once again, it's great. Once again, many of his lyrics sound like a combination of stream of consciousness and him simply singing his diary yet somehow making it rhyme and scan.

But in the case of "Tavoris Cloud"—yes, yet another Kozelek song named after a boxer—that just makes it all the more powerful, as he reflects upon the death of his kitten, the improbable late career success of Bernard Hopkins, the death of his friend and contemporary Tim Mooney and, of course, his life.

I miss my afternoon naps, my kittycat sleeping on my lap
She died August 2011, just got back from Norway, she slipped off to kitty heaven
Last night I had to laugh out loud when Hopkins beat Tavoris Cloud 
At the age of 48 no fighter ever was that great

2012 last July every night for a week I cried and cried
When I got the news that my old friend Tim Mooney died
My heart dropped dead and my head spun thinking about the times when we were younger
And how my band looked up to Tim and all the guys who played with him 
Sometimes I still cannot believe Tim Mooney died at 53
He seemed much stronger, he was too young to up and leave

And at the age of 46 I'm still one fucked up little kid
Who has my fears and has my doubts
Who has my challenges and bouts
And though I moved out here I know I'm still that kid from Ohio
Still has hopes, still has dreams, still  has not learned a fucking thing
And though I moved out here I know I'm still that kid from Ohio
Who's living in a world that I'm still getting to know

Testify, brother. No one ever told me that you lose your hair and you get a paunch and a bad back but inside you still feel like a stupid kid. Why don't they warn you about that?

Long Distance Runaround

It's easy to view Mark Kozelek's deconstructive covers as a clever schtick—take a poppy tune, slow it down to a dirge, maybe move it into a minor key—but one which quickly becomes predictable. And, really, I'm not sure I'd disagree. On the other hand, when the results sound like this, with Kozelek's mournful baritone managing to bring gravitas to lyrics as dippy as Jon Anderson's, I also don't care, because in addition to an interesting new—dare I say alternative?—take on a staple of classic rock radio, they kept the funky time signature and that's yeah.

Silly Love Songs

So you were probably wondering—as most people do on a Thursday afternoon—"say, what would it sound like if Neil Young and Crazy Horse had covered Wings on their Live Rust Tour?"

Well. Wonder no more.

What's wrong with that? Not a thing.