Cultural Sponge - The Joe Pagetta Blog

A guitar-vocal demo of a new song, inspired by Giuseppe Tornatore’s film, Cinema Paradiso.

Beautiful Then (Paradiso)

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If all of the kisses I’ve had in my life
Were dropped out, left on the cutting room floor
It’d be yours I remember much more

If somebody found them and spliced them together
On to a reel so I could remember I’d be
Alone in the theatre to see
You and me

Oh, wasn’t it beautiful then?

There’d be no premiere on the red carpet
Just me all alone with my ticket in pocket in line
Waiting to go back in time

To that kiss in the rain under umbrellas
Completely unscripted like nothing else mattered but when
We’d be together again
Beautiful then

Oh, wasn’t it beautiful then?

I should have pulled you close
And held you in my arms
Directed another kiss
To turn the camera on

Now I can only dream of a scene
Of when it was beautiful then
It was beautiful then

As we arrive at final embraces
The camera close up on both of our faces we stay
The camera cuts away
Cutaway

Oh, wasn’t it beautiful then?

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By Joe Pagetta
Copyright © 2010

This year at the Nashville Film Festival, the Gibson Corporation was gracious enough to station its tour bus outside the theatre, where it was available for interviews and tours. As the publicist for the Festival, I scheduled many of the interviews, and introduced many of our celebs and out-of-town visitors to its many guitars and charms. But as a singer-songwriter and guitarist myself, it put me in a precarious position.  Just a few feet away was an escape from the busy days of the Festival, filled with some of Gibson’s finest acoustic and electric guitars. To satisfy the urge, videographer Chris Massey and I hatched a plan. We would pop into the bus during some downtime, grab the Epiphone J200 off the wall, turn on the video camera, and I would quickly play one of my latest compositions. This wasn’t an entirely well thought-out plan, though. It turned out that I didn’t know this new composition as well as I thought. At least not at first. I got it eventually. For posterity’s sake, here are the results of the plan, and the new song, “Looking For You.”

Watch it here:

or watch it directly on YouTube.

In no particular order, and for no particular reason, here are a few of my favorite things from the world of culture in 2009. (Caveat: not a “best of,” mind you, just some stuff I liked.)

(Book) The Song is You - Arthur Phillips: A book about music, passion, relationships and family that felt completely contemporary; completely now; without overtly being about now. A beautiful and unique novel.

(Film) (500) Days of Summer: A fresh, sharp and stylized take on romance that was above all else, fun. I’d watch it again, and again.

(Film/Concert) Anvil: The Story of Anvil / The Anvil Experience at the Belcourt: Easily one of the best documentaries, and maybe movies in general, about rock ‘n’ roll. But then add the band performing after it, and it was truly an amazing experience. My wife on her feet shouting “Metal on Metal” was alone worth the price of admission.

(Concert) Leonard Cohen at TPAC: A dream, really, to see and hear Cohen perform, in what may have been one of the best sounding-concerts I’ve ever been to in a large venue. It was everything I had hoped for, and so much more.

(Film) Prodigal Sons: This film will be rolled out nationally over several months in 2010. Yes, it’s about a transgendered woman going home to be part of her high-school reunion. Yes, it has something to do with Orson Welles.  That’s only the half of it. Ultimately, it’s about love and family, and the lengths we go to, to keep that family intact. Kimberly Reed’s heart is huge.

(Concert) The Non-Commissioned Officers at the Nashville Film Festival Closing Night Party at Mercy Lounge: Though not the official closing-night event (that belonged to the excellent Long Players performance of the “Easy Rider” soundtrack), the Non-Comms performance at Mercy Lounge was triumphant. Make-Out With Violence, the film for which the band composed the music, had won the top prize at the Festival. The soundtrack won the best music-in-a-film prize.  The guys in the band were in the movie. Someone’s mom got up to sing. It was a celebration. It was thrilling.

(Film) Adventureland: As far as major releases go, this one slipped under the radar.  A completely charming coming-of-age vignette worth a viewing, or multiple viewings, if you missed it. Excellent performances all around.

(DVD) The Hold Steady - A Positive Rage: A short documentary packaged with a live-record from a band that made me believe in rock ‘n’ roll again. It’ll make you smile, especially when the band and the audience start fast-clapping.

(Essay/Book) Eating Animals - Jonathan Safran Foer: The first chapter of this book was excerpted in the New York Times Magazine, which I where I first read it. The chapter stands alone as a beautifully-written essay about our relationship to food. The book itself alters that relationship.

(Television) Mad Men Season Three:  While season two moved slower in order to better develop the characters, season three was a roller-coaster ride. The final episode made it worth the trip. I’ve had a theory that the majority of us are either Don or Betty. This season moved me closer to a better understanding of my own theory.

(Television) Masterpiece Mystery / Wallander: A gorgeously-shot series based on the Henning Mankell novels that was so well done, you could easily get lost in the photography and forget anyone was killed. Kenneth Branagh was brilliant as the down-and-out lead character.

(Concert) Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band at the Sommet Center: What can I say? I’m certain the Boss and the Band are only getting better. This may have been the swan song for the E Street Band on tour. They played Born to Run in its entirety.  I wanted to come out of my skin. It was transcendent.

(Film) Food Inc.: If you eat food, or know someone who eats foods, or are responsible for the food that someone else eats, this is a must-see-film.

(Songs): “”Give Me Tomorrow,” Willie Nile; “Wilco (The Song),” Wilco; “Hysteric,” The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, “I and Love and You,” The Avett Brothers; “Queen of the Supermarket,” Bruce Springsteen, “The Fixer,” Pearl Jam; “Haven’t Met You Yet,” Michael Buble*.

*I feel I need to clarify this last one a little, because it seems a little not like the others. I was in Italy in the Fall on vacation, and this song was everywhere, so I think I associate it with a wonderful memory. But it’s also a perfect slice of pop songwriting and production, with pessimism giving way to optimism in the lyrics, the indiscriminate use of the word “kid,” and a trumphet solo — a friggin’ trumphet solo! — in the middle. How can that be bad?

Bonus - (Book) Let the Great World Spin - Colum McCann: Although, as of this posting, I haven’t finished Let the Great World Spin, I’m almost certain I’ll have it read by the end of the year. I’m also almost certain, based on what I HAVE read, that it will be one of my favorite things of the year, and maybe the decade.

I came home from vacation yesterday to a pile of junk mail, bills, magazines and, in an envelope that could have easily been mistaken for a subscription renewal request, a letter from Performing Songwriter magazine editor Lydia Hutchinson. After 16 years, the magazine is ceasing publication.

The end of the magazine isn’t a complete surprise. The issues had been getting frighteningly thin as of late, and while more people than ever may be making music, the industry within which that music goes from art to business is collapsing.  On top of that, print publications are folding as advertising money dries up and readers head to the web for information.  All things considered, it’s amazing the magazine lasted as long as it did.

But I’m not writing to lament its death. Things, and times, change. Rather, I feel the need to offer a quick eulogy for the magazine and the stellar and inspiring work that Lydia and her staff did over the last decade and half.

I became a singer songwriter in the early-to-mid 90s. Before that, I was merely a singer, guitar player and songwriter in a rock band in New Jersey.  Performing Songwriter magazine began publishing soon after I started taking songwriting — and performing — truly seriously. It was there that I read about, and discovered, many of the artists I came to admire at that time in my life.  There were the Bob Dylans and Bruce Springsteens and Cat Stevens and Leonard Cohens to admire, of course, but I needed something a little more tangible to guide me.  Performing Songwriter brought me John Gorka and Cliff Eberhardt. I learned about Dar Williams and Richard Shindell and Pierce Pettis. There was a contemporary folk resurgence in the Northeast, and Performing Songwriter gave these artists some serious ink. They were not superstars, but I didn’t want to be superstar. To write like Gorka, or play guitar like Eberhardt, was no short order, and enough to aspire to.  In Performing Songwriter, I learned not only what kind of guitar (and capo!) the current crop of contemporary folk artists were using, but also where their inspiration came from and how they developed their performing style. I learned, most importantly, that there was something called a “performing songwriter.” It carried a bit more weight than “singer songwriter.” It sounded more active. It was something I could identify with.

The magazine had its critics in the early years, who suggested that it focused too heavily on the kind of aforementioned contemporary folk songwriters, and didn’t cover other genres like rock and R&B. Was Prince, technically, not also a performing songwriter? Or Paul Westerberg? Haven’t we heard enough about Ani DiFranco? The criticism may have been justified, but I think the magazine quickly made amends, and gave us years of engaging interviews and profiles with artists of all genres. The gear reviews and advice columns were indispensable.

The magazine also included a  DIY section, where it reviewed releases by independent artists. For any indie performing songwriter with a self-released CD, it was the place to be, not because it helped your career in any tangible way — I know several artists who claimed no jumped in CD sales, not even one disc, as a result of the review — but because it was a review written by your peers and read by your peers.  It was a nice badge of honor, and looked great in your press kit and on your web site.  For me, it took four releases before I finally got my review. My EP Other People’s News was reviewed in January 2008. It felt great (even if Don Henley was on the cover). Nothing much happened after that. But I had finally gotten my PS review.

I was a subscriber on and off over the life of the magazine, and after lapsing for several years, recently subscribed again, hoping a reminder in my mailbox every month might resuscitate the lapsed performing songwriter in me. I’ll have to find that jump-start elsewhere. And that’s as it should be. A magazine isn’t going to get me to pick up my guitar any more than it’s going to get me to ride my bike more. But it does create a sense of community, and a feeling that there are others like you, doing a similar thing, who might be reading the same thing and looking for that same inspiration.

“One of my friends said that Performing Songwriter has never been just a magazine. It’s the community that formed around it and supported it, and it just wore the clothes of a publication,” writes Lydia in her letter. “The community is still there, steadfast and strong; it’s simply time to change clothes. I don’t know exactly what the outfit’s going to look like, but that wonder is part of the joy.”

I agree. Who’s ready to go shopping?

As the Italians say, “allora.” Congratulations Lydia, and the PS staff, on what you accomplished over the last 16 years. And thank you, for the inspiration, identity and community. Oh, and the review.

One of the great things about being an independent artist and selling your music digitally through iTunes and other online services, is that you can get a complete list of the songs that are selling, from which site they are selling, and their popularity. It’s a handy indication of not necessarily your best songs (or what you think are your best), but at least what listeners like the best. The disconnect between the two can often be fascinating.

When I’m asked about my music, I sometimes give people one or more of my CDs, hope they’ll listen to them all, and then come up with a complete sense of what I do. But I know that’s not practical. Sometimes as an introduction, too much music can backfire. Lately, via Facebook, I’ve reconnected with many people I grew up with or went to school with who didn’t know I was a musician. They’ve asked about my music, and again, I find myself either mailing out some discs, or recommending one or another on iTunes. So I’ve come up with a solution. Why not send them a “Best Of?” Or a least a collection of what the majority of listeners think are the best? Again, as I mentioned, the songs I think are my best, and what listeners think are the best are not necessarily the same thing.  Some of what’s been most popular (”Beautiful Woman”) and what hasn’t (”Haven’t Seen Myself,” Joywood version) I even find perplexing. But perhaps this is proof that while we’re our own worst enemy — “My Biggest Enemy,” by the way, is popular — and harshest critic, we’re often not the most objective assessor of our talents (whatever that means).

So here it is, JOE PAGETTA: THE BEST OF … SORT OF, a collection of my most popular digital songs from my last three releases, neatly compiled here and available as an iMix at iTunes. If you’ve got iTunes on your computer, you can access it directly here. Perhaps I’ll make a companion iMix soon, titled PROUDEST OF, where I can compile the songs that I’m proud of that didn’t make this list. There’d be some crossover, for sure, but it would definitely include “Haven’t Seen Myself.”

Thanks for listening. Hope you enjoy.

JOE PAGETTA: THE BEST OF … SORT OF (iTunes iMix)

Tears of Lake Michigan/Small Worlds (2001)
Ebenezer Scrooge/Joywood (2004)
Cherry Baby/Joywood (2004)
Practice Makes Perfect/Other People’s News (2007)
Beautiful Woman/Small Worlds (2001)
Break Down/Joywood (2004)
Both Be Wrong/Other People’s News (2007)
My Biggest Enemy/Joywood (2004)
Church or Train Station/Other People’s News (2007)
Lift You Up/Joywood   (2004)

In no particular order, and for no particular reason, here are a few of my favorite things from the world of culture in 2008.

(Book) Junot Diaz - The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao: I think this came out in 2007, but I read it this past summer. What I don’t know about books and literature could fill volumes, but this one felt like a game changer. One of the best books I’ve ever read.

(Film) Man on Wire: An exhilarating and inspiring documentary that plays like a mad cap heist film. Doubles as an unsentimental and fitting tribute to the industrial beauty and power of the Twin Towers. See it.

(Concert) Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band at the Sommet Center in Nashville: I’ve seen Bruce and the band many times, including in New Jersey, and this was the best show I’ve ever seen.

(Album) The Hold Steady - Stay Positive: As long as rock ‘n’ roll this good exists, that won’t be a problem.

(Book) Richard Price - Lush Life: Like all great fiction, this love letter to the The Lowest East Side is really about us, and “the aspiring” whatever that lives inside us. It’s also about cops, drugs, guns, the projects, money and America. Great fiction by a master storyteller.

(Television Show) Mad Men, Season Two: It was easy in the perfection that was Season One to get caught up in the style and dialogue of the show. In Season Two, the drinking and smoking and womanizing played second fiddle to the developing psychological profiles of the characters. It’s when things really started getting interesting.

(Concert) Levon Helm’s Ramble on Road at the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville: I thought nothing could top Helm at the Ryman in 2007. Until I saw Helm at the Ryman in 2008.

(Album) Marah - Angels of Destruction!: One of my favorite American rock bands delivers what may be its finest album.

(Album) Warren Pash - Plastic Rulers: I’m not sure if the record is one of my favorite things, or the fact that it’s finally out is one of my favorite things. I think it’s both.

(Book) Jonathan Miles: Dear American Airlines: A slim novel, alternatively hilarious and heartbreaking, and unique throughout.

(Essay) Jonathan Franzen’s essay on New York in State By State: A Panoramic Portrait of America: The most fascinating interview with a geologist you’ll ever read.

(Film) Young @ Heart: I’ll tell you right now, you will cry, maybe harder than you’ve ever cried before. You will then wipe your eyes, take a deep breath, and decide to embrace life.

Bonus Favorite Thing:

(Literature) Barack Obama’s Speech On Race: This really doesn’t fall into a book, film or music category, but someday, it’ll wind up in an anthology of great speeches in American history, making it literature.  I’m just getting a jump on it.

I read somewhere once that after you turn 30, records are not supposed to change your life. I guess there’s some truth to that. At a certain age, records don’t change your life, at least not in the way they did when you were 16, but I think it’s perfectly acceptable to discover records at any age that move and inspire you. In fact, it’s recommended. It’s good for you and keeps you young. Same thing with books and films. The other thing with records (or books and films for that matter) is that they often take on associations that are sometimes beyond your control, becoming soundtracks for moments in your life and reminders of people, places and things. Nick Hornby went out of his way to not be influenced by those associations in his excellent collection of essays on some of his favorite songs, Songbook.

In 2007, I discovered artist Nicole Atkins and her record Neptune City. The record didn’t change my life (I’m over 30), but I certainly loved it and couldn’t stop listening to it. It had no association other than the joy it gave me. Then my father got sick.

There were two records I had placed on my iPod shortly before I headed up to New Jersey to be with my sister and father. One was Neptune City, the other was Bruce Springsteen’s Magic. In the evenings when I’d take breaks from being with my father, or drive back to my sister’s house in Hazlet from the hospital in Red Bank, I’d listen to those two records. I’m sure the fact that both artists are from New Jersey had something to do with it,  but mostly, they gave me comfort — the title song from Atkins’ album, especially. I won’t try and describe the song, I’ll just say that “Neptune City” is beautiful and haunting at the same time, and reminds me a little, in the narrator’s perspective, of watching Wim Wenders‘ film Wings of Desire.

My father’s fight with lung cancer didn’t last long. Barely a month passed between his official diagnosis and his death on November 5, 2007.

It was hard, of course, to listen to “Neptune City” and not think about those days. I would still put it on, but that’s where my mind would go.

I was back up in New Jersey — at my sister’s house and in my father’s old room — for the first time last week, just over a year since my father had passed away. The occasion was my nephew’s confirmation. He asked me to be his sponsor and I was honored and excited to be a part of it. I knew I’d have to go through some of my Dad’s stuff, and deal with some tough emotions, but was looking forward to most of the trip.  My wife and mother (who lives in Nashville now) were coming with me, so it would be a fine reunion of the family.  Plus, my wife and I decided we would take most of Friday and Saturday to ourselves and spend some time in New York City. I checked the entertainment listings to see what was happening on Friday night, and to my delight, who should be playing the Bowery Ballroom? Nicole Atkins, of course.

(more…)

Lyrics  to a song called “The Year of Leaving,” to be performed “in the style of The Hold Steady.” The title comes from a line in Janis Ian’s autobiography Society’s Child.

The Year of Leaving

I was walking in DC
Listening to the Hold Steady
And trying to stay positive
I was jealous of all the people on bicycles
I considered taking up smoking again

This is the end of the year of leaving
I’ve gone too far
This is the end of the year of leaving
I’m staying home from now on

I was driving in New Jersey
Trying to make a left turn
To get to the Dunkin’ Donuts
The median was all fence and barbed wire
I resolved to start drinking more water

This is the end of the year of leaving
I’ve gone too far
This is the end of the year of leaving
I’m staying home from now on

I’m tired of saying goodbye
To everyone and everything
There was a time
When everyone meant everything

I was moving around the kitchen
Looking for a bottle opener
To punch a hole in a can of fruit punch
After awhile I gave up on the endeavor
And remembered I was gonna start drinking more water

This is the end of the year of leaving
I’ve gone too far
This is the end of the year of leaving
I’m staying home from now on

It’s interesting to note what people hear when they listen to music. I always notice the lyrics first, and as a songwriter, tend to focus on the song structure. My friend Jonathan, however, an accomplished guitarist, engineer and producer, hears sounds (or at least he used too…we’ve been talking Dylan lyrics quite a bit lately). My wife Kathy, a singer, hears harmonies. If she’s singing along to a song, she’s likely singing the third or the fifth or some other harmony; I’m always singing the melody or the lead. Meanwhile, I’m sure there are other people who don’t hear music in any of these ways, but instead take the whole song in emotionally.

I mention this, because every now and then I come across a song that when listened to in the way I tend to listen to music, is an aural feast. “Angels on a Passing Train,” on Marah’s new album Angels of Destruction!, has been an obsession since I picked up the record several weeks ago. Everything about the song is dramatically over-the-top, much like the band itself, and I can’t get enough of it. There’s nothing necessarily experimental about the way the song is structured. What’s unique is the way band gives you, the listener, what you want. They don’t make it easy, but they don’t make you work for it, either. They make you wait for it.

The song starts off simply enough, with an A minor chord played for four bars on acoustic guitar. Then the verse progression arrives with the full band. Already, things get interesting. The verse progression goes on instrumentally for 16 bars before the vocals kick in, even though the eighth bar ends with a build-up and drum fill, telling my ears and my chest the first verse is coming. But it doesn’t. I have to wait another eight bars before the vocals start, bringing with them these glorious lines: “Sunday morning sunlight/mixed with moonlight in your eyes from last night/Coffee tastes like birthday cake and we get older/ with every sip I take.”

So now we’re into it. An eight-bar verse? A 16-bar verse? How about 32-bars, and every eight of them ending with the build and drum fill and that feeling in your chest that something’s about to come crashing in (the best choruses always come “crashing” in). When the chorus does finally arrive, around 1:35 into the song, with “Here we go/it’s just around the corner!” it’s big and beautiful. The lyrics almost feel like an inside joke at this point, like the song is that friend you’re walking around with in the city, who keeps telling you he knows this great place to eat, and it’s “just around the corner.” He keeps telling you this at every corner, until, once you’re there, he says, “see, I told you, it was just around the corner.” I think Jonathan’s done this to me before.

So we get there, chorus and all, with the title-line hook. Now what? Eight-bar instrumental verse progression — like the beginning, only a little shorter. Time for the next verse? That would be too easy. Instead we get eight bars of everything broken down, just a little piano, bass and background noise. When the second verse does arrive, with the line “Welcome to the dog house,” it might as well be “Welcome to the fun house.” The band descontructs the verse progression we’ve already been introduced to, instead delivering it with a heavy, bouncy emphasis on piano, bass and accordion. You finally make it to the joint around the corner, and it’s crazy in there, filled with distorted mirrors and people walking on stilts. The wackiness continues for 16-bars before we’re rewarded once again with the chorus, delivered four confident times. The ending gives us one last taste of the carnival-like atmosphere as we march back out on to the street. It’s a rock song that works on every level it should: lyrically, structurally, sonically, and yes, emotionally.

This kind of approach to rock music isn’t new, of course, but it’s rare these days to hear a band go for it like that. Marah has always delivered live (I became a fan after seeing them in Nashville several years ago) and while I’ve read some critics declare that the band doesn’t deliver on record, I disagree. Even before this record, I thought they did. There’s no doubt, however, with this one.

BMI has been my Performing Rights Organization since I knew I needed one, and I remain proud to be an affiliate. The February edition of the podcast highlights several Nashville singer-songwriters, including me and the self-titled song off my EP OTHER PEOPLE’S NEWS. You can download the podcast at http://bmi.com/podcasts or through iTunes by searching podcasts for “BMI.” You’re also encouraged to vote for your favorite artist on the podcast, so if that’s me, by all means, please vote! Winner receives a CD manufacturing package.