I Wish I Was The Moon

I'm almost willing to bet that when music was invented, that is, when the first human decided to utter sounds that were decidedly melodic, that the moon was somehow involved. That chunk of rock 238,900 miles away from us affects us humans like it affects the tides. Crime increases during a full moon, and although no one can really explain why, countless theories exist. Ever since that first human decided to sing, possibly at the moon itself, that heavenly body has been the subject of numerous songs. Some are no brainers to recall, such as Rodgers and Hart's "Blue Moon," Mancini and Mercer's "Moon River," Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Bad Moon Rising," and one of my favorites, R.E.M.'s "Man On The Moon." Those songs and others were on my mind Sunday evening as my family and I sat on Folly Beach waiting for the supermoon to rear its crater-pocked head. There was a considerable amount of haze at sunset, so many folks hanging out at the beach were questioning whether or not we'd even get to see the moon. Fortunately, just as the moon started rising in the East the clouds dissipated and we all got a hell of a view. I'd be lying if I said that there wasn't some primal part of me, deep down in my subconscious, that wanted to howl at that orb in the sky, which Sunday night was bright enough to read by. I managed to control my instincts though. My perfect moon song for the occasion, after much careful thought, ended up being Neko Case's gorgeous "I Wish I Was The Moon." If you've never heard it, pull it up on Spotify. Hope you had a chance to see that moon last night.    

This One Goes To Eleven

I was never majorly into heavy metal music while growing up. Sure, there were a few bands that caught my ear, but for the most part I shunned acts such as Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, and Back Sabbath until I became a bit more open-minded in my 20's. Charleston has turned out its share of heavier rock acts over the years. Current locals Madam Adam have made a dent in the metal market, and local musician Eric Bass plays with the internationally touring Shinedown. If I were to pick the most influential metal band to come out of the Lowcountry though, Childrens Choir would get my vote. In the 90's, when most of the rest of the Charleston bands were either embracing the angst of grunge bands like Nirvana and Pearl Jam, or the frat boy pop of acts like Hootie and The Blowfish and 311, three guys from Charleston brought the noise to the Holy City in a big way. Featuring brothers Kevin and Richie Isaacs (on bass and guitar respectively) and Paolo Licciardi on drums, Childrens Choir was the loudest band in town. Underneath the volume though was something interesting; thought-provoking lyrics and precision playing of the band members on their respective instruments. This wasn't metal music just for the sake of being loud, and the band toured up and down the East Coast with acts such as White Zombie, GWAR, Marilyn Manson, Helmet, Clutch, and Anthrax.
The band eventually broke up at the turn of the millennium as the Isaacs brothers took jobs out of town, but the band occasionally dusts off its amplifiers to rock out when everyone is in town. This Saturday marks just such an occasion. Childrens Choir will be performing at the Charleston Music Hall, easily one of the city's best sounding music venues. The band will actually be the featured act for a wedding reception after party, and the couple getting married even created a Facebook event here. Don't worry if you didn't get a wedding invitation, because the show is free and open to the public. if you're not familiar with the music of Children's Choir, you can sample a few of the band's tracks here. I may just have to stop in and bang my head for a bit.

All She Wants To Do Is Dance

What if you went to a concert and a sock hop broke out? That's pretty much what happened Friday night at the first show of a two-night stand by retro rocker JD McPherson. I was largely unfamiliar with McPherson's music prior to his being announced on the Spoleto Festival lineup. Once I got a listen to his album, "Signs and Signifiers" though, I was on board. Just about any musician with enough chops can play retro rock and roll, but few can really convince you that they have that music flowing trough their veins and ingrained in their DNA. McPherson is one of those types. Listening to and watching him play, you can see that he has a genuine love for the music he makes, but he doesn't showboat when he performs. Instead, there's a feeling of reverence and respect for the music, whether it's a well-chosen cover or one of McPherson's originals.
Friday night's show had originally been scheduled to be held at the Cistern on the College of Charleston campus, but thanks to the effects of tropical storm Andrea the venue was moved to the school's basketball facility, the TD Arena. I was there with my son, who had just been let out of first grade for the summer. We got there early and got a couple of seats up front. I wanted my son to be able to see what was going on, and before the show we played "I Spy," a favorite game of his, while he scoped out the instruments on the stage and the lighting rig above it. It was his first real concert, aside from a couple of in-store performances at Monster Music and the long-gone but much missed Chazzfest, where he got to see Al Green. Okay, so since he was an infant I guess he didn't really see Rev. Green, but he was there.
Anyway, just after 9pm the band was introduced and kicked into "Dimes and Nickles," a song from "Signs and Signifiers." The 50's rock sound almost immediately got my son's attention. He's still at that age where he doesn't have to try and act cool or worry about how others perceive him. He's totally unafraid to be in the moment, and I love him for that. He seemed fascinated with the way that bassist Jimmy Sutton slapped and plucked his upright bass, the spinning parts of the Leslie speaker attached to the band's Hammond organ, and the LED stage lights that bathed the stage in various colors. All the while he was wiggling and bouncing in his seat to the music with a huge grin on his face. I was loving the fact that he was into the show.

A cover of John Dee Holeman's "You Got to Lose, You Can't Win All the Time" followed, which featured an great solo by McPherson's saxophone player. Sutton plucked out the opening of "Country Boy" on his bass, and McPherson got the crowd singing the song's chorus toward the end. The singer advised the audience that the band had played in Virginia, where he'd made an unsuccessful attempt to tell a few jokes onstage. He promised not to make the same attempt with the Spoleto audience, earning him a light groan of disappointment from the crowd. McPherson did tell a funny story lter in the show involving a skeptical Dutch woman who apparently mistook Sutton for Jimmy Vaughan at a gig in the Netherlands.
The band then continued its set, playing the Louis Jordanesque "I Can't Complain," "Your Love (All That I'm Missing)," and a cover of Bo Diddley's "Mona." The next song, "Abigail Blue," featured an amazing organ solo, and at the conclusion of the song McPherson advised that he had written the tune with his father, who just happened to be in the audience that night.
The red hot "Firebug" led into a cover of Chuck Berry's "Beautiful Delilah," and that was about the time the dancers showed up. At first it was just a couple swing dancing to the right of the stage, but soon more folks joined the fun, and before you could say rock lobster there was a large crowd of folks dancing in the aisles. "We've got some civil disobedience going over here," joked McPherson while gesturing toward the dancers. Eventually, the dancers took over during another Bo Diddley cover. As McPherson and his band ran through "North Side Gal" and "Wolf Teeth," the no man's land between the front row of seats and the stage was full of folks doing every dance you can imagine. Fred Astaire would have been both elated and a bit scared to witness what was happening on Friday night. I'm sure there were probably some folks that found the unregulated be-bopping annoying, but I honesty had t hand it to the ushers for just letting things be, as most of the folks up front simply stood up and joined the fun. By that time late in the show my once energetic son, who's bedtime is normally the time the concert started, was fading fast. We moved from our front row seats to some new ones toward the back to give the dancers a bit more room. Although he was still trying to dance in his seat to the music, I knew he'd be asleep soon. Fortunately, the band finished its main set, thanked the audience and left the stage. McPherson and his band soon returned for a three-song encore that included a reggae-infused cover of "Oil in My Lamp," as well as a pair of McPherson originals, the slow "A Gentle Awakening" and the powerful "Scandalous." After being impressed by McPherson's studio album, it was nice to see his live act take that music to the next level. Folks interested in seeing McPherson do his thing will have another chance tonight as the band performs again at 9pm at the TD Arena. Try to check them out if you can. Even though I was unable to take photos of lat night's show with my DSLR camera, due to the fact that apparently Spoleto folks don't allow any photography at performances, even by journalists cleared for a photo pass, I still managed to snap a few photos with my iPhone of the dancing throng so you readers can see what the scene looked like.

No, He Didn't Play "King Tut."

"Ladies and gentlemen, all my life I've dreamed of playing Charleston, South Carolina. Tonight, I'm one step closer to that goal." So began Steve Martin this past Monday night at the North Charleston Performing Arts Center as he fronted what was billed as an evening of music and comedy with the North Carolina bluegrass group Steep Canyon Rangers and special guest Edie Brickell. I was always a little bummed out that I never got to see Martin do his standup act in the 70's. Of course I've owned the comedy albums for years, and have watched Martin's early appearances on Saturday Night Live in that same decade. Wearing that trademark white suit and sporting some wacky stage prop, like the ever-popular arrow through the head, Martin basically deconstructed the traditional standup comedy act and in the process became a comedy icon. The banjo was always included in his standup act, but I guess I never really realized just how good Martin was on the instrument until a few years back when he released "The Crow: New Songs for the Five String Banjo." That album featured Martin playing with the likes of Dolly Parton, Earl Scruggs, Vince Gill, and Bela Fleck. Unlike his previous musical hit, the novelty song "King Tut" from 1978, this was a serious release and showed how talented Martin was on the notoriously hard to play banjo. Not long after, Martin was introduced to Steep Canyon Rangers after the band performed at a party in North Carolina. Martin explained how he and the band met after the first song at Monday night's show, but then added in typical Steve Martin style, "That version of the story didn't go over so well in Hollywood, so I tell everyone we met in rehab."
While I'll never get to see Steve Martin in his "Wild and Crazy Guy" persona, the Memorial Day show allowed me to mix two of my favorite things; cerebral comedy and bluegrass music. One might not think that the two would mix, but if so that "one" has never seen Martin perform in a musical concert setting. In between wisecracks that had the sold-out crowd in stitches ("I don't like to think of Steep Canyon Rangers as my band. Instead, I think of myself as their celebrity."), Martin and the Rangers turned in some quality folk and bluegrass music. Rangers lead singer Woody Platt sang "Yellow-Backed Fly" while Martin cast doubts that "Woody Platt" was his real name. Before playing the title track from "The Crow," Martin gestured to the row of banjos behind him and deadpanned, "I like to think of my banjos as my children, which means that one of them probably isn't mine." The next tune, which Martin introduced as "My Masseuse is Too Chatty," turned out to be "Jubilation Day," a song Martin recorded with the Rangers on the 2011 release "Rare Bird Alert."
Next Martin welcomed singer Edie Brickell to the stage. If you're like me and came of age in the 80's, then you probably remember the hippyish Brickell singing "What I Am" with her band, New Bohemians, on MTV. You know, back when the channel actually played music videos. Brickell married music legend Paul Simon back in 1992 and has quietly continued to make music while raising a family. Martin and Brickell collaborated on this year's album, "Love Has Come For You," and Brickell kicked her portion of the show off with "Shawnee," a Appalachian-flavored tune from the new record. As Martin and Brickell explained between songs, the collaboration started when Martin sent Brickell a banjo instrumental, seeing if she could write some lyrics for it. That one song led to another, then another, until the pair realized that they had an album's worth of material.
Brickell then performed "When You Get to Asheville," one of the prettier tunes on the album. The song, reminiscent of the style of Abigail Washburn, showed that even a quarter-century after her first big hit, Brickell is still that cute, hippy girl from next door. Wearing a simple black dress and cowboy boots, Brickell seemed totally at ease telling stories about growing up in Texas and her inspirations for some of the songs.
For the next song the Rangers and Brickell left the stage, leaving Martin to perform a song solo. Martin was using an iPad next to his microphone stand, presumably for help with chords and lyrics, and he introduced the next song as "Angry Birds: Level 7," which got a big laugh. The Rangers and Brickell soon re-emerged and late in the first set Brickell treated the crowd to more of her lovely voice as she performed the title track to "Love Has Come For You." Beforehand Brickell explained that the song's opening lyrics "She had a child by that man from the bank," had suddenly come to her and she knew it was going to be a good tune. The next song, "Sarah Jane and the Iron Mountain Baby," was inspired by a story Brickell read about a baby that was found abandoned in a suitcase by an older couple that kept the child and raised it as their own. Brickell singing "Woo-woo, baby, woo-woo, you're my baby now," had me reminiscing about Brickell in her younger days. She still has a beautifully breathy delivery that injects an extra dose of emotion into whatever lyrics she happens to be singing at the time. Just before taking a break Martin advised the audience, "By the way, if you're not enjoying the show so far, your'e wrong."
After the short intermission Martin and the Rangers returned to the stage and kicked into "Me and Paul Revere." sung by Platt, the song cleverly told the story of the famous midnight ride from the horse's point of view. Martin then gave Steep Canyon Rangers the stage, and the band performed a gorgeous a cappella song that earned them praise from Martin as only Martin can deliver. "Once you learn to play your instruments to that you'll really have something," said the comedian, earning yet another laugh from the audience. Martin then led the Rangers through another a cappella song, obviously written by the comedian, called "Athiests Don't Have No Songs." The tongue in cheek lyrics had the crowd rolling, and the members of the Rangers had their timing down perfectly.
Brickell returned to the stage and the musicians kicked into "Yes She Did," which Martin promptly messed up on in the first verse. "Let's start over," said Martin, and on the second attempt he stumbled yet again in almost the same place. Looking sheepish, Martin gave it a third try, and managed to hold it together for the song, which actually only lasts about 90 seconds. Brickell and the band performed a few more songs from the new album, including "Siamese Cat," "Remember Me This Way," "Fighter," and "Friend of Mine." "Sun's Gonna Shine" was a beautifully positive tune that would have sounded just fine on that New Bohemians album back in the 80's. Martin then took lead vocals for a change on a new song, "Pretty Little One."
"We've come to our last song," said Martin, earning a collective groan of disappointment from the crowd. "Don't worry," he said in a soothing tone, "Your ticket entitles you to help load the sound equipment into the truck after the show." He then added, "I hope you've enjoyed listening to this music as much as I've enjoyed finger-syncing to it over a record playing offstage." The band then played "Austen's Train," a song based on the poem "Calypso," by W.H. Auden. During the song the entire show was nearly stolen by Steep Canyon Rangers fiddle player Nicky Sanders, who blasted off on a fiddle solo that incorporated snippets of everything from Aram Khachaturian's "Sabre Dance" to Dick Dale's "Misirlou." It was one of the most incredible feats of musicianship I've seen in awhile, and when I saw Sanders at the merchandise table after the show, he admitted that about 60% of the solo is improvised on the spot. The musicians returned for a short encore of two songs before sending the audience on its way.
After seeing Martin live I can now honestly say that a large part of the sting of never getting to see him do standup has passed. Martin deftly mixed music with comedy, never overdoing it on either side. He didn't play a bluegrass version of "King Tut" like I was hoping, but with the accompaniment of Steep Canyon Rangers and Edie Brickell, Monday night's show was one of the best I've seen in Charleston so far this year.

A Light Rain's Gonna Fall

You see that stately-looking fellow pictured below? That's David Grant, local writer, former advertising idea man, and a thirty-year resident of Charleston.

Some call him a friend, some a mentor, and I'm betting there are a few folks out there that would like to call him some rude names (hey, we all have a few of those out there in the world). I call him Dad. We've had the typical father-son relationship over the years. As a kid I thought he hung the moon, as a teenager I wondered if there was a bigger nimrod on the face of the Earth, in my early adulthood I thought I knew more than him, and finally sometime in my 30's I realized that I should probably pay attention to him more, because he obviously knows a thing or two. I'm now in my 40's, with a couple of sons of my own. Those boys are currently in the "he hung the moon" phase, but I know it's just a matter of time before I'll be the one getting eye rolls and slammed bedroom doors. I suppose I deserve it.
Anyway, at the risk of this entry becoming some sort of self-inflicted therapy session, let me move on to the real subject here, and yes, it is music-related. One of the things I treasure most about my upbringing is the fact that both of my parents loved music. My late mother was a fan of Elton John, The Beatles, and country music. When I say "country," I don't mean the twangy pop drivel that largely populates the country stations these days, but rather the good stuff like Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynn, and George Jones. Being raised by a mother who was just as comfortable watching "Hee-Haw" with me as she was playing her LP of "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" on our record player made me very open minded early on to the musical possibilities that were out there. Were she still alive, I have no doubt my mother would still be seeking out new artists to savor.
My dad has a similar eclectic taste in music. My love of The WHO started with him. He's the reason I know who Loudon Wainwright III and Frank Zappa are, and why I got a head start on loving classical music. If you had to take one artist that truly defines who my father is as a music fan though, it would have to be Bob Dylan. As I've mentioned on this blog in the past, he named my little brother Dylan after the singer. I have good memories of hearing him play songs such as "Rainy Day Women #12 and 35" and "Tangled Up in Blue." For years I thought Dylan's voice sounded too weird to be taken seriously, but as I aged I realized that famous nasal quality is one thing that sets him apart from other folk and rock artists.
I finally got to see Dylan live about a decade ago when he played the North Charleston Coliseum. I'd heard that the quality of Dylan's performance was in direct correlation to his temperament at the time, and in the three times I've seen him since then I guess I've been lucky to catch Bob in a good mood each time, because each show has been great. It came to my attention a few years back though that my father had never seen Dylan live. I was pretty amazed to find that out. I guess I'd just assumed that he'd seen the artist perform back when I was a kid or even before I was born. Instead, the biggest Dylan fan I know, at the age of 77, had yet to see the former Robert Zimmerman live and in person. Naturally, when it was announced a couple of months back that Dylan would be playing the Family Circle Stadium on Daniel Island, I knew what I had to do. I bought a couple of tickets in the general admission section on the center court and gave the elder Mr. Grant an early Father's Day gift.
We got to the venue Saturday night under some angry looking skies. With the event being held outside, we hoped for the best as we took our places on the clay court about fifty feet out from the stage. First up was the Los Angeles band Dawes. I had recently reviewed the band's new album, "Stories Don't End," and had been blown away by Dawes' sound. I was anxious to see how well they reproduced the album's soaring ballads live, and the quartet of twenty-somethings definitely didn't disappoint. Lead singer Taylor Goldsmith has a voice that reminds you of Jackson Browne, and when he harmonized on Saturday night with keyboardist Tay Stratharin and drummer Griffin Goldsmith, the hairs on the back of my arms stood up, much like they did the first time I heard Crosby, Stills & Nash mix their vocals together. I could see why this young band caught the ear of Dylan. They play rock music like they did back in the 70's, when names such as Browne, Zevon, Henley, Frey, and Walsh ruled the roost. It was just announced this week that Dawes will be included in the lineup of this year's Southern Ground Food and Music Festival in October. The band is definitely worth checking out when they come back to town.

As Dawes finished its set, scattered raindrops started falling. It wasn't raining outright, but from the way the clouds looked, it was only a matter of time. As the crew finished resetting the stage, the house lights went down, and the giant klieg spotlights at the back of the stage began to glow warmly as Dylan and his band took to the stage. Dylan kept the lighting low throughout the show, possibly to discourage photography. No photo or press passes had been available for the show, but I managed to snap a few shots with my iPhone. Wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a black and white tailored suit, Dylan started in front of a microphone, opening with "Things Have Changed," the Oscar-winning song he wrote for the film "Wonder Boys." He seemed to be having a good time singing a verse and then posing under the lights with the microphone stand. After a couple of more songs Dylan moved over to the grand piano at the side of the stage, where he rolled through songs both old and new such as "Soon After Midnight" and "Early Roman Kings." It took a moment to recognize his loose version of the classic "Tangled Up in Blue," but it was a great reworking of the tune. At the age of 71, Dylan's voice has deteriorated a bit to the point where he sounds a lot like Tom Waits when he sings. Still, there was no denying that the guy still enjoys playing live. Later in the set Dylan performed an absolutely stunning version of another Dylan oldie, "Visions of Johanna," as well as "What Good Am I?" a track off one of my favorite Dylan albums, "Oh Mercy." After a rollicking version of "All Along the Watchtower," which found Dylan again back at the piano, the band bid the crowd goodnight, only to return a few minutes later for a one-song encore of "Ballad of a Thin Man."

Aside from a group of clueless individuals directly behind me who were more interested in discussing fashion and plans for drinking after the show (Really? You're going to talk over "Tangled Up in Blue?"), it was another great Dylan performance. The rain never truly got started, opting instead to just drizzle a bit here and there, and the majority of the crowd was really into the show. I found myself looking at my father's face just as much as I did at the bands on the stage. All during Dylan's set my dad had a little grin on his face as he drank in the experience. It honestly couldn't have gone better if I'd won the lottery and hired Dylan to play a private show for my old man. He can now say he's seen his favorite musician play live, and a stadium full of fans got to stay dry while they enjoyed a great night of music. Thanks, Bob.

Setlist:
Things Have Changed
Love Sick
High Water (For Charley Patton)
Soon After Midnight
Early Roman Kings
Tangled Up in Blue
Pay in Blood
Visions of Johanna
Spirit on the Water
Beyond Here Lies Nothin'
Blind Willie McTell
What Good Am I?
Summer Days
Scarlet Town
All Along the Watchtower

(Encore)
Ballad of a Thin Man

Hoots and Hollers With The Royal Tinfoil

Lily Slay is highly amused. Sitting in the main recording studio at Truphonic Recording Studio in West Ashley, the buxom, tattooed singer and guitarist has been hearing the voice of one of her bandmates in The Royal Tinfoil coming through faintly, but is trying to figure out how she is hearing it, since the adjacent studio's microphone is turned off. Then she realizes that fellow singer and guitarist Mackie Boles is speaking into his guitar pickups, which explains why his voice sounds robotic and otherworldly. It's just one of the many ways that the band members, which also include bassist Brad Edwardson, drummer Marshall Hudson, and keyboardist Whitt Algar, are blowing off steam as they record The Royal Tinfoil's new album. Things have been good lately for The Royal Tinfoil. They were recently named Best Local Band by the Charleston City Paper in that publication's annual Best of Charleston issue (the same one that named charlestongrit.com Best One Stop Blog). The band's unique mix of musical styles, which Slay describes as "garage-country-swamp-pop-gypsy," has obviously caught on, although the band was unprepared for the accolades from the City Paper ("Yeah, we don't know either," says Slay).
The band was nice enough to let me sit in on an evening of its recording process recently. Recording at Truphonic is a huge step up for the band. "Our last album was recorded in three days in a basement in Kansas," says Slay. Back then Slay and Boles basically were The Royal Tinfoil, hiring additional musicians when a gig called for it. This time out the band is taking more time and recording more professionally. Truphonic Chief Engineer MJ Fick sits behind the massive sound board in the studio's main control room, which features a huge video display above the window that allows folks in the control room to see what is going on in the main studio. Fick, who helped oversee the construction of the state of the art studio, shows me some tricks he uses, like draping a wool blanket over the bass drum of Hudson's kit, creating a sort of tent or tunnel that enhances the sound of the instrument. Hudson and Slay are still in the main studio, recording various takes of one of the 16 songs the band plans to record while at Truphonic. During a break the band gathers in the control room, which has a couch and table-like console that is littered with pizza boxes, laptops, and liquor bottles. Truphonic shares a wall with a liquor store next door, and The Royal Tinfoil has been taking advantage of the convenience, purchasing bottles of Evan Williams, Fireball, and Patron. Slay punches up a song by Tickleswitch, a side project of The Royal Tinfoil, while she checks Facebook and looks at YouTube videos. At the time I visit the band is about halfway done with the recording process. They plan on releasing the album, which currently has a working title of "Feed These Demons," in September. According to Slay, who sports a red beehive wig that would make Kate Pierson of the B-52's green with envy, the new Royal Tinfoil album will be much different from the band's previous release. "The first album was tongue in cheek," says Slay, "but this is more macabre and dark, sinister, sleazy. We're taking everyone's individual styles and using them. I feel like this time out I'm writing as a member of a group instead of as a solo artist." In between stories from the road about tearing each other's shirts off onstage and Boles accidentally breaking Slay's foot at one show, Slay plays a demo of a song called "Roselina," which features Boles singing the semi-improvised lyrics "Gimmie twenty dollars with the hoots and hollers!" If the finished album is anything like that demo, then fans of The Royal Tinfoil have a lot to look forward to this fall.

Is "Conversate" Even a Word?

There's been a lot of chatter online the last few days about the new Brad Paisley song "Accidental Racist." The song, which is featured on Paisley's new album, "Wheelhouse," features the country artist singing about the fact that the Confederate flag on his T-shirt doesn't necessarily make him a racist. "The red flag on my chest somehow is like the elephant in the corner of the south/And I just walked him right in the room/Just a proud rebel son with an 'ol can of worms/Lookin' like I got a lot to learn but from my point of view," sings Paisley in the first verse. Later in the chorus he sings, "We're still pickin' up the pieces, walkin' on eggshells, fightin' over yesterday/And caught between southern pride and southern blame." 

Later in the song things get a little weird as LL Cool J puts in his two cents worth. Yeah, I know; I can practically hear you saying "Wwwwhat?" like the guy on the AT&T commercial after the little girl tells her werewolf story. You read that correctly both times though; LL Cool J is featured on a modern country track. Given the song's subject matter, getting the point of view of an African-American seems like a genuinely good idea here. Let's see what Mr. NCIS: Los Angeles has to say on the matter. "I'd love to buy you a beer, conversate and clear the air/But I see that red flag and I think you wish I wasn't here." 

Ooooo...kay.

Still later, Paisley and LL combine their ideas. 

Paisley: I'm proud of where I'm from

LL Cool J: If you don't judge my gold chains

Paisley: But not everything we've done

LL Cool J: I'll forget the iron chains

Paisley: It ain't like you and me can re-write history

LL Cool J: Can't re-write history baby

Toward the end, LL actually says, "RIP Robert E. Lee."

Cue the AT&T dude again. 

Before I go on, I should probably give a little background on my personal beliefs on race relations and living in the South. I moved here with my family at the age of 12 back in 1982 from San Diego, California. In other words, I'm a person "from off," as they like to say here, even though I've been here more than three decades now. That's cool, I've learned to live with the fact that I'll never truly be Southern, no matter how much I love living in this region. My native-Charlestonian wife delights at reminding me of that fact. I was brought up by a couple of pretty open-minded, well educated parents who basically laid out my to siblings and I that a human is a human, no matter what color they are. Seeing actual instances of racism while living here (and yes, I'm likely not surprising anyone by saying that it still happens, even in 2013) still shocks me, but then I also realize that the world is full of idiots who also come in all different colors. We all know racism isn't exclusive to the South. I saw it living in Southern California as a kid, in Germany when I was stationed there in the army, and in Saudi Arabia when I was deployed there. Too often the South gets a bad rap as being a place where everyone would love to see slavery make a return, but in reality most Southerners, both black and white, are good people, especially the ones in the Lowcountry. I mean, come on, we've been called the most polite city in America how many times? I'm not trying to make it seem like I'm wearing a halo here, but I'm a live and let live kind of guy. When the whole flap over the Confederate flag on top of the Statehouse was going on a few years back, I was amazed at the hatred that erupted on both sides, first when the flag came down off the dome, then when it stalled out on the grounds of the Statehouse instead of disappearing all together. Now I understand that there are plenty of descendants of brave Johnny Rebs that would argue that the flag represents their heritage, and while that's all fine and dandy, it's a symbol of a time when this country was divided. It always amuses me when some good ol' boy sports a Confederate flag shirt while chanting "USA! USA!" So while there are plenty of folks who fly the rebel flag as a tribute to their heritage, there are just as many who do it out of spite and hate.

So, anyway, back to the song. It would be one thing if this tune were somewhat well written and executed, but it really isn't. In all honesty, "Accidental Racist" is a half-ass piece of songwriting all around. What has me particularly stymied is the fact that I really dig both of the artists involved here. I got into rap back in the early 80's, when films like Krush Groove and Beat Street marked Hollywood's willingness to milk the art form of rap for all it was worth. I bought RUN-DMC's first album on cassette. Ya feelin' me? During that time I loved LL Cool J's work. I mean, come on, this is the guy who gave us "I Can't Live Without My Radio," "Rock the Bells," "Around the Way Girl," and "Mama Said Knock You Out." He's a true hip hop legend. Sure, he currently spends more time as an actor these days, but there will always be a part of LL that is still street as hell.

Brad Paisley is a different kind of like for me. For years I could have cared less about the guy. He was one of those modern country artists I normally despise, the kind whose idea of country sounded more like schlocky rock and roll. Then I was sent to review one of his concerts at the North Charleston Coliseum a few years ago. I went with an open mind, despite my hatred of modern country, and much to my surprise I was blown away by the guy's showmanship. Paisley is the Eddie Van Halen of modern country. He tears it up on those signature paisley Telecasters of his. I got a chance to see him a couple of years ago a second time at the Coliseum, and toward the end of the show he took a nasty spill down a ramp on the stage. It was one of those falls that makes you cringe when you see it, and he just missed impaling himself on his guitar. Paisley recovered and stumbled off the stage, then took a trip to the hospital where, despite being injured, he posed for a picture with the medical staff. That's a standup guy in my book. 

My admiration for both of these artists makes it all the more painful to admit that "Accidental Racist" panders to the same sort of folks that get misty eyed when they hear Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA" (my distaste for that song deserves its own blog entry). Compared to "Accidental Racist," that other towering pile of crap dedicated to racial harmony, "Ebony and Ivory" by Stevie Wonder and Paul McCartney, seems like high art in comparison. 

So that's my take on it. Obviously not everyone will agree with me, but then that's the great thing about art: everyone is entitled to their opinion. 

Here are the full lyrics to the song, just in case you haven't had the misfortune to hear it:

To the man that waited on me at the Starbucks down on Main, I hope you understand

When I put on that t-shirt, the only thing I meant to say is I'm a Skynyrd fan

The red flag on my chest somehow is like the elephant in the corner of the south

And I just walked him right in the room

Just a proud rebel son with an 'ol can of worms

Lookin' like I got a lot to learn but from my point of view

I'm just a white man comin' to you from the southland

Tryin' to understand what it's like not to be

I'm proud of where I'm from but not everything we've done

And it ain't like you and me can re-write history

Our generation didn't start this nation

We're still pickin' up the pieces, walkin' on eggshells, fightin' over yesterday

And caught between southern pride and southern blame

They called it Reconstruction, fixed the buildings, dried some tears

We're still siftin' through the rubble after a hundred-fifty years

I try to put myself in your shoes and that's a good place to begin

But it ain't like I can walk a mile in someone else's skin

'Cause I'm a white man livin' in the southland

Just like you I'm more than what you see

I'm proud of where I'm from but not everything we've done

And it ain't like you and me can re-write history

Our generation didn't start this nation

And we're still paying for the mistakes

That a bunch of folks made long before we came

And caught between southern pride and southern blame

Dear Mr. White Man, I wish you understood

What the world is really like when you're livin' in the hood

Just because my pants are saggin' doesn't mean I'm up to no good

You should try to get to know me, I really wish you would

Now my chains are gold but I'm still misunderstood

I wasn't there when Sherman's March turned the south into firewood

I want you to get paid but be a slave I never could

Feel like a new fangled Django, dodgin' invisible white hoods

So when I see that white cowboy hat, I'm thinkin' it's not all good

I guess we're both guilty of judgin' the cover not the book

I'd love to buy you a beer, conversate and clear the air

But I see that red flag and I think you wish I wasn't here

I'm just a white man

(If you don't judge my do-rag)

Comin' to you from the southland

(I won't judge your red flag)

Tryin' to understand what it's like not to be

I'm proud of where I'm from

(If you don't judge my gold chains)

But not everything we've done

(I'll forget the iron chains)

It ain't like you and me can re-write history

(Can't re-write history baby)

Oh, Dixieland

(The relationship between the Mason-Dixon needs some fixin')

I hope you understand what this is all about

(Quite frankly I'm a black Yankee but I've been thinkin' about this lately)

I'm a son of the new south

(The past is the past, you feel me)

And I just want to make things right

(Let bygones be bygones)

Where all that's left is southern pride

(RIP Robert E. Lee but I've gotta thank Abraham Lincoln for freeing me, know what I mean)

It's real, it's real

It's truth

Songwriters: James Todd Smith/Brad Paisley/Lee Thomas Miller