Songbird of the Kremlin, Live at Fisk

An icy slice of December clipped loose from that month and has lodged here in central October, just to remind us of our latitude. There was even a dusting of snow on everything this morning, enough that I had to take a broom and sweep it off my car before I could drive. Later, of course, the snow melted, so it wasn’t a hard daytime freeze. But it was peculiar seeing the snow coat the still-partly-leafed trees.

My friend Ed wrote to let me know about the virtues of the band Counting Crows, whom I mentioned last posting, and I don’t doubt that he’s right. But in some ways I behave stereotypically middle-aged, and this is one of them: I can’t muster much enthusiasm for music made after about 1990, and even that late date would be pushing it. On the other hand, I’ve had enough of the ’60s and ’70s. What I’m exploring now is popular music from the ’20s to the ’50s. What treasures lie in those decades, getting dimmer all the time.

Counting Crows’ re-make of “Big Yellow Taxi” reminded me of the time in 1985 when I saw Pete Seeger in concert at Fisk University. His songs, naturally, were quite dated, but that’s what you see Pete Seeger for: songs of yore. For some reason, however, he got it in his head that he wanted to sing Country Joe and the Fish’s “I-Feel-Like-I’m-Fixin’-to-Die-Rag.”("It’s one, two, three/What are we fighting for?/Don’t ask me I don’t give a damn/Next stop is Vietnam.”)

Maybe he was trying to warn us about the dangers of U.S. adventurism in Central America. He didn’t say. Though chronologically newer than anything he did from the ’40s, it seemed a lot more dated. The audience didn’t respond to it at all beyond polite applause.