Michael Hedges Eulogy

Michael Hedges Eulogy


Michael Hedges

1953-1997



With the brisk winds of late fall came the passing of Michael Hedges, recording artist, acoustic guitar visionary, and father of two. A single car accident, reported on Dec. 2, 1997 claimed his life.

Born in Enid, Oklahoma on December 31, 1953, Hedges studied music at the University of Oklahoma and the Peabody Conservatory before embarking on a commercial career with the Windham Hill record label in 1981. He developed a unique acoustic guitar style, full of right-hand tapping, unconventional full chord hammer-ons and contrapunctal playing that attracted listeners from the rock and pop world to new age Windham Hill music. Though he was pegged as a New Age player, his background included a wide variety of music, from Celtic to hard rock. His favorite singer/songwriter was Joni Mitchell, and because of her influence, Hedges rarely played in standard guitar tuning.

For Hedges, the music was the primary experience. Though he could have played easier pieces and carried the same (or greater) popularity using standard equipment and tuning, he knew that would not meet his own requirements. Tapping and alternate tunings were a method he used to generate a kind of sonic landscape unique to each of his pieces. The melodic and percussive sounds he brought from his instrument were inimitable. When he began experimenting with harp guitar (an acoustic guitar with an extended soundbox and several bass harp strings attached to the extension) he sounded like a full acoustic band, complete with bass, percussion, rhythm and melody.

Hedges’ talent for acoustic guitar was indisputable, but he did not want to be limited to that instrument. He also played flute and enjoyed synthesizers, and once said that the only reason he became known as an acoustic guitar player was because he played for Will Ackerman’s Windham Hill label. Many of his compositional directions lay elsewhere.

I was lucky enough to see Michael Hedges at Purgatory Ski resort one summer, along with fellow Windham Hill artists Andy Narell and Liz Story. The resonant guitar sounds set against a background of high mountain summer scenery created a sensory experience that will never leave me. Hedges moved to his music constantly when he played, directed in a sort of impromptu dance by the notes flowing up the mountainside.

Risk

For the inaugural edition of the Lytspeed Communications Rantbox, it seems appropriate to talk about risk. Risk can take a myriad of forms, from simple chance encounters to life-threatening actions. The shy teenage boy who asks the pretty girl for a date is taking a risk, as is the motormouth, uncomfortable with silence, who actually tries keep his mouth shut for a change.

The term “risk” implies that there is something to be lost and something to be gained in the attempt. A successful attempt indicates that the quantity at risk is retained and perhaps something more is gained. An unsuccessful attempt often means that all is lost, the quantity at risk and the potential gain. In some circumstances, both are possible; the quantity at risk is lost, but something else is gained. In all these cases, the potential gain must be measured against the potential loss before we take the risk.

The obvious circumstance that comes to mind concerns finances. We speak of high risk/high return investments and the entire banking system is based in risk management. The risks being taken here involve money — something that is outside ourselves, but important in our society nonetheless. A person who manages risks well in the money arena is likely to be rewarded with a sense of security, the opposite of risk, even though that sense of security may be false.

But are these the greatest risks we face? For some, it may be. They may never attempt anything but outside risks, risks that have to do with material possessions, jobs and social status. For some, however, risk may be much more personal and, therefore, greater. The casual songwriter who performs an original song for the first time in front of strangers is risking something from within herself, and audiences are often cruel. If they don’t like the song, she may never write again (or may never perform again.) The writer sending his work to magazine editors faces the same risk of rejection, but from a professional in the field instead of a live audience. The scientist who takes a step out of the bounds of accepted doctrine in order to pursue a revolutionary idea risks personal and professional ridicule, not to mention financial ruin and an end to his work.

There are risks even more personal than this. The alcoholic who finally decides to make it through that first night without a drink runs the risk of meeting himself, with nowhere to hide. The battered wife, sneaking the children quietly out of the house and to a shelter while her tormentor sleeps in the bedroom risks her life. The frightened embezzler, leaving to turn himself in to the police, doesn’t know if he will be returning to his wife and son or taking up residence in a jail cell. The loving newlywed waits, crying and praying, for his wife to return after their first fight, when he finally stood his ground.

At some point, we all face personal risk. Some people refuse to take the risks, so afraid to lose something within themselves that they never take the chance to grow. Risks are fertile ground; the potential for personal growth following a risk is greater than perhaps any other time, yet most people shy away, not willing to lose what they have or fearing the unknown following the risk.

Why do so many people put up with abuse from their spouses? One explanation is that the abuse is a known quantity. The dark area beyond the abuse has become unknown territory, more fear-inducing than the abuse itself. The risk is in entering the unknown, where they can’t yet see how much there is to gain from escaping the relationship.

Even in cases where the attempt fails, there is still the possibility of learning from the risk. In the above examples, the battered wife may find that her husband doesn’t expect her to stand up to him and doesn’t know how to react. She may find that she holds some power over her life. The writer and musician may receive helpful suggestions from the people who observe their work, even if the reaction isn’t positive. The alcoholic may find out just how dependent he is on alcohol and realize that he needs help from others to kick it. The scientist may find that some of his observations were incorrect, but that his work helps another scientist to fill in a gap in her work. The embezzler may find that the situation at home was contributing to his stealing, and that the best thing for him is to be alone for a while. The newlywed may find that his wife mistrusts him, and that they now have a goal to pursue together.

Every risk, no matter how small, carries the potential to teach us more about ourselves. Sometimes that knowledge is not always what we want to hear, but something we need to hear nonetheless. Often, identifying the risks we need to take is difficult, because our self-defense mechanisms hide them behind masks of apathy, anger, self-righteousness or other emotions. Because of this, our emotions can be used as road signs to tell us which direction to go. Sometimes all it takes is recognizing the emotion we are feeling and examining its source to determine what we need to do to solve a problem.

Our friends can be invaluable for this very reason. They can often see emotions in us of which we are completely unaware. If our friends truly care, they will be willing to risk our anger to let us know what they see happening in us. This outside perspective is necessary for us to get a clear picture of ourselves. It is impossible for us to know exactly what is going on in our own heads at any given time. Even if we are experts at self-realization, there will still be part of us that is doing the observing and can’t be observed itself. Our friends are able to see some of the parts of us that we miss, and their feedback can help us address problems we may not know we have.

Part of the purpose of this soapbox exercise is to give me a risk-taking forum. I intend to write about many topics, both in poetry and opinion essays like this, and publish them where others can read them. I will often be writing candidly, publishing thoughts I may not have discussed with anyone else in an attempt to work through them. In that respect, these essays will be almost like journal entries, often personal and introspective. Since I am doing this openly, where anyone with a web browser has access to what I write, feedback is welcome. That’s part of the risk. I may receive information that I don’t want to know, but I will do my best to evaluate that information in the light of constructive feedback and determine whether it is information I can use to improve myself.

I will attempt to write these essays weekly, though circumstances may dictate the schedule. Feel free to check back often for new rants, reviews and poetry. I will keep archives of all above in case you don’t check in for a week or two.

Unplugged

Unplugged

By: Eric Clapton

Type: Acoustic blues and rock

Hot Tracks:

  • Tears in Heaven
  • Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out
  • Layla
  • Old Love

Wow.

What can I say about Eric Clapton that hasn’t already been said by hundreds of other reviewers? The man is constantly changing, constantly experimenting, consistently staying in the public view. His timing on this project was impeccable; he brought major attention to MTV’s “Unplugged” show at a time when its future was uncertain as well as opening himself up to a brand new audience by showing his more mellow, acoustic side.

Most of the songs on this album are pretty simple to play. Simple songs, simple arrangements, informal atmosphere. The key is the facility with which Clapton and his band of studio musicians execute the material. Even though much of it has been heard at coffee houses and acoustic jams for years, never has a star of Clapton’s magnitude shown his expertise on the old standards in this way. One of the songs, “Nobody Knows You …,” first came to my attention through a solo acoustic guitar player named Rex Hegyi in Durango, Colorado. I became fascinated with the song, but couldn’t find the Jimmy Cox original anywhere. Hearing Clapton play it — and revitalize it — closed a portion of my life that had remained open for several years, and I was finally able to put down my obsession with that song and learn how to play it recognizably. That is possibly the most remarkable thing about this album; Clapton took the opportunity to showcase his blues influences as well as satisfy the audience by playing some of his originals. Eight of the songs (more than half) were not written by Clapton; two were Robert Johnson songs, which is important because it introduces the music of the father of delta blues to a younger audience and prompted the release of a Robert Johnson boxed set.

In terms of the Robert Johnson tunes, “Malted Milk” and “Walkin’ Blues,” I have a confession to make. I like Clapton’s versions better. I’ve listened to original Johnson recordings of both songs, and I have to admit that Clapton’s timing and solos are better. Johnson had a habit of throwing in extra beats in a measure or dropping some notes from a measure before playing the next part. Some of this was probably due to the fact that he was playing solo; he didn’t need to keep time correctly for the benefit of other musicians most of the time. From listening to his work on other pieces, I’m sure he made the changes intentionally. They contribute to the soul and down home feel of Johnson’s music; you know he was real from listening to his music. Still, they grate on the ears of the typical listener. Clapton takes the liberty of “fixing” those spots in his covers of these two Johnson tunes. His timing is loose enough to feel authentic, yet tight enough to maintain a consistent rhythm. On one of the songs (“Walkin’ Blues” I think; I don’t have the Johnson Boxed Set for reference) Clapton substitutes a guitar solo from another Robert Johnson recording for the solo that exists on the Johnson Boxed Set recording of the song. Again, this substitution works better than the original. It is also important to note that Andy Fairweather Low plays along with Clapton on “Malted Milk,” so the timing fixes may have been necessary for playability on that tune.

That Clapton can take original pieces from one of his heroes and expand them shows an interesting contrast of humility and reality. In his trademark sheepishness, Eric might disagree that his versions are better, but we are free to make the call as listeners. True, there are several decades between Eric Clapton’s versions of many of the songs on this disc and the originals, and that the original artists came up with them at all is worth a large dose of respect. Eric’s method of showing that respect is to propagate the music, with a few additions of his own.

With his own pieces, he feels no compunction about changing them up a bit. The most obvious example is “Layla,” a shortened (thank God!) version of the Derek and the Dominos tune. The song now boasts a slow, swing rhythm that immediately induces swaying and toe tapping. The vocals are not strained like in the original and the solos are short but meaningful. We no longer have to endure the crying slide weaving in and out of a repeating piano riff for several minutes; the solo is entirely flatpicked with no slide.

“Old Love,” originally a collaboration between Clapton and Robert Cray, takes on a soulful, jazzy feel. Chuck Leavell’s piano solo is perfect for the feel of the piece, even getting a verbal stamp of approval from Eric himself as the notes spiral upward from the keys. The now famous “Tears in Heaven,” in which Clapton laments the death of his young son, is well executed, though some critics feel the studio version is better. Personally, I prefer this acoustic version, but I am also more used to it than the other.

Eric Clapton gave a great gift to the world when he made this album. It is an educational trip through the world of acoustic blues, a candid look at another side of one of the world’s best entertainers and evidence of how music has the power to make people smile when performed correctly. I recommend this CD to anyone with even a remote interest in the music of Eric Clapton.

Rating (out of a possible five):

Tiger Walk

Tiger Walk

By: Robben Ford

Type: Progressive Jazz/Rock

Hot Tracks:

  • Red Lady w/Cello
  • Just Like It Is
  • The Champ

I find myself disappointed in this album. I have been a fan of Robben Ford for many years, and have always enjoyed his releases with The Blue Line and his guest appearances with artists like Joni Mitchell, Bonnie Raitt and Miles Davis. I feel that he is at his best when fronting The Blue Line, singing the blues in his bell-clear voice and adding staccato punctuation with his guitar.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t sing on this album. And the Blue Line is on haitus.

Instead, we find the Expensive Winos (Steve Jordan, drums, and Charlie Drayton, bass) taking up the daunting task of backing one of the best guitar phraseologists of our time. (No, I don’t consider their normal frontman, Keith Richards, to be in the same class as Ford.) As I listen to this CD, I long for Roscoe Beck’s bass fills and Tom Brechtlein’s rock-solid drumming. Jordan’s drums (especially the snare) are too loud in the mix, and occasionally I find myself listening more to them than Robben Ford’s playing; this is not good! On the other side of the rhythm section, Drayton’s bass playing has little energy and does not adequately fill the spaces that Ford intentionally leaves in his playing to add variety and focus to the music. Beck, having played with Ford for years, knows when it is appropriate for him to step up and when to hang back. Drayton never takes the chance to step up.

In other areas of the rhythm section, Bernie Worrell fills most of the keyboard duties, and does so very well. He is joined by Ford’s long time friend and former bandmate Russell Ferrante on “The Champ,” a bluesy funk where Ford is able to stretch out a little against the backdrop of the lineup.

Throughout, Ford’s playing is typically stellar. He describes himself as a “melodist,” a player who strives to produce quality notes and phrases rather than just blitzing back and forth across the strings and calling it a solo. He is melodic throughout, but the band (with the exception of Worrell and Ferrante) is not able to support him correctly and the music occasionally feels flat.

The best track on the album is “Red Lady w/Cello,” a song Ford wrote in honor of Michelle N’Dgiocello, who he says creates some of the best grooves he has ever heard. The band is able to get behind him on this song and support the energy level better than on any of the other songs. Ford has stated that this is his favorite track off the CD as well.

According to Ford, he felt he needed to produce an instrumental album without The Blue Line in order to stretch out a little. He felt like he was stagnating after so many years with the same players, and wanted to stir the creative process a little. This was good for Brechtlein and Beck as well, because it gave them the opportunity to tour with Eric Johnson, another guitar virtuoso whose style requires that talented people be with him on the stage. Beck counts himself lucky that he has gotten to play extensively with two of the best guitarists in the world. Perhaps this is a good thing for all involved.

Still, I can’t help thinking that many of the songs, especially the title track, would benefit from the expertise of The Blue Line. Perhaps on his next album he will bring The Blue Line back and we will get to hear these songs with Beck and Brechtlein on tour.

Rating (out of a possible five):

Test for Echo

Test for Echo

By: Rush

Type: Progressive Rock

Hot Tracks:

  • Driven
  • Time and Motion
  • Limbo
  • Totem

Continuing the shift back to a leaner, less layered sound, Test for Echo is a quality effort from Rush. Alex Lifeson’s guitar is more up front than it has been in a long time, especially on songs like “Driven,” “Limbo” and “Time and Motion,” yet the characteristic syncopation that has become Rush’s trademark sound is not compromised. Geddy Lee’s bass playing continues to show influence from Primus’ Les Claypool and the trio uses synthesizers less than they have in several releases. Lee’s voice also seems to be getting better with age. Neil Peart’s lyrics continue to sport poetic and literary devices that other rock songwriters fear to approach and he stretches a little to play hammer dulcimer on “Resist.” In short, this album is a predictable progression from previous trends.

Which is just fine with me.

I am happy to see Rush moving back to simpler arrangements and a little more distortion. The spacey, ethereal sounds of their 1980s albums began to wear on me a little, though I do think Neil Peart’s lyrics were at their peak during this period, particularly on Power Windows. His best lyrics on this album are probably presented in “Totem,” a defense multi-cultural belief systems. I am also happy to see the band returning more often to the extended instrumentals, like “Limbo” on this album.

The pamphlet design is of high quality, similar in style to the old Hipgnosis album jackets. A lot of computer generated images and fractal patterns give the slipcover booklet a feel almost like a graphics intensive web page, which fits very well with the song “Virtuality” in particular.

It will be interesting to see where the group goes from here. Recently, Peart’s daughter died in an accident, and I am predicting this will have a profound effect on his lyrics in the future. We may see him returning to the level of lyricism he attained in the mid eighties, if only because he is driven by pain. I’m not sure the group’s current musical trend will fit well with the kind of lyrics that might come from this loss, though. I look for the Lee and Lifeson’s music to get a little lighter in the future if Peart’s lyrics go that direction.

Until then, I will continue to enjoy the status quo of one of the most consistent bands in modern music.

Rating (out of a possible five):