While I did buy Hootie and the Blowfish’s 1996 sophomore effort, Fairweather Johnson, when it was released, that marked the end of my fandom. Like most of the world, I tuned out after that.
So their third album, 1998’s Musical Chairs, is completely new to me. And that’s a shame, because after a couple of listens, and despite the major hits on their debut, I think this album is better than either of the first two.
Back in 2012, I posted a track from Hootie and the Blowfish’s 1994 smash Cracked Rear View, marvelled at the meteoric rise and just-as-quick fall of the band, and suggested that “it’s about time it became cool to like Hootie again.”
I guess I was on to something. The band is currently packing arenas on a reunion tour, and recently the New York Times’ pop music critic Jon Caramanica published a piece titled ‘Hootie & the Blowfish, Great American Rock Band (Yes, Really).’
(I interrupt the normally scheduled Random Weekend for some thoughts on Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. Warning: Spoilers follow!)
It’s been a decade since I saw a Quentin Tarantino film I really loved. That was 2009’s Inglourious Basterds, a masterful blend of tension, action and melodrama that burst at the seams with daring creativity. It’s up there with Pulp Fiction as the most Tarantino movie Tarantino has ever made.
In contrast, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood — for most of its running time — is the least Tarantino film he’s ever made. It’s also one of the best.
The White Stripes aren’t generally known for their quieter songs, but they have recorded a few beauties.
Today’s track appears on the 2005 album Get Behind Me Satan and is a lovely song featuring Jack White on acoustic guitar and Meg White (for the first time ever) on hand-hit drums.
I found a site comparing the melody of this song to Bob Dylan’s ‘I Believe in You,’ a track from his born-again Christian album Slow Train Coming (yes, they are similar).
Here’s where I admit that my Elton John deep dive become a lot more like dipping my toe in the pool once I got past 1974. John has released 22 albums since Caribou and only three of them are represented on my playlist.
Did I listen to all 22? No, I did not. Taking my cue from Rocketman, I stopped with ‘I’m Still Standing’ and the 1983 album Too Low For Zero on which it appears. If he found nothing in the 13 albums that followed worth putting on screen, who am I to argue?
Meet Me In Montauk 