Grant Hart (1961-2017)

Null:

I love Hüsker Dü, which means I love Grant Hart. I was introduced to the band in the formative years of my life, back when punk rock, of all kinds, saved me. I have never heard a band that sounds quite like Hüsker Dü: Bob Mould’s wall of melodic guitar noise, Greg Norton’s bass laying some kind of impossible foundation so the whole thing didn’t blow away, Grant Hart’s weird-ass drum sound. “Is that a delay or an echo on the drums? Who does that?” Grant-fucking-Hart does that. Many drummers have a district style, but Grant had a district sound too. He also sang with a deep longing and desperation while he played the drums.

Depressing and emotionally heavy, psychedelic punk rock is the only way I can describe Hüsker Dü’s sound during the SST days. Mould and Hart, the principle songwriters and singers, were both influenced by 1960s pop as much as by The Germs. Mould’s songs were often cathartic exorcisms, but Grant’s songs were 60’s girl group gems wrapped up in a psychedelic wash like watching Phil Spector drowning in a pool of LSD. Grant’s songs were about love, books about UFOs, not giving up, how the news was shit, and how we were all fucked if we don’t get it together. Mould became the big star out of this group, but this band was a three piece—make no mistake. Grant’s incredible talent and lack of superstardom somehow made him more human, real, and unknown.

I have one Nova Mob record and one Grant Hart solo record. I like them. I should get more. But the sound and the plea to “Keep Hanging On” is etched on my heart and it makes me want to cry, as if he knew this was the mantra to get us through this life.

SoDak:

When I think of the mid-to-late 1980s, I have fond memories of college radio in Rapid City, South Dakota. KTEQ was a breath of fresh air, given that it regularly played punk rock and new wave. It was consistently a source of new music. Such was the case in 1985, when one of the DJs played five Hüsker Dü songs, from three different records, back to back. I got goose bumps as “Pink Turns to Blue” started. I loved the mix of grittiness and melody. On this first listen, I could not understand all the lyrics, but I picked up enough to know that it was about a woman who overdosed. Next was “I Apologize,” which made me want to jump around the room. Finally, the DJ indicated that he was going to play three songs from the new Hüsker Dü record, Flip Your Wig—the title song on which both Bob Mould and Grant Hart sing, “Makes No Sense at All,” and “Green Eyes.” Between songs the DJ shared how much he loved Hüsker Dü, explaining what each song meant to him. These interludes allowed him to cue up the next song to be played, since these songs were not consecutive on the record. I sat in my room eager to experience each song, as a wave of different emotions washed over me.

From that moment on, I was hooked on Hüsker Dü, especially the different emotive qualities of the two singers. Grant Hart’s songs often seemed warmer with his rounded vocals. At the time, I was surprised to learn that Grant Hart also played drums, as I could not imagine how someone could sing like he did while banging away behind the kit. Flip Your Wig remains my favorite Hüsker Dü record, but their other records also contain songs that are among my favorites. In particular, I love Hart’s “Don’t Want to Know If You Are Lonely.” When Candy Apple Grey was released, I would listen to this song over and over, taken by the tension between yearning, separation, and heartbreak. Years later, Political Asylum recorded a brilliant acoustic version of this song. I am still struck by how catchy “Could You Be the One?,” “Too Much Spice,”  and “She Floated Away” are on the second side of Warehouse: Songs and Stories. Hart’s “She Floated Away” seemed filled with both sorrow and whimsy.

Following the demise of Hüsker Dü, I continued to buy Grant Hart’s records, whether it was Nova Mob or his solo records. While the conflict and creativity of Hüsker Dü could not be matched, I very much liked Nova Mob’s “Old Empire,” “The Last Days of Pompeii Benediction,” “Over My Head,” and “Where You Gonna Land.” My regret in relation to Grant Hart is that I learned he played in Eugene, Oregon, where I was living, two days after the show.

Black Lips, Satan’s Graffiti…or Is It God’s Art (2017)

By SoDak

In August, I spent a week hiking in Glacier National Park—fortunately before all the fires started. For road trips, I usually bring along a stack of CDs that I have not heard, in order to have time to really listen to a record. On the third day, we took the Going-to-the-Sun Road from the westside of the park to the Many Glacier area. For the drive, I selected the newest record by the Black Lips, Satan’s Graffiti…or Is It God’s Art. My wife and I drove along Lake McDonald, then followed the river, before starting the climb to Logan’s Pass. Periodically, we stopped to walk through fields of wildflowers, to sit by waterfalls, and to watch mountain goats climb up cliffs. We were excited to see two grizzly bears, swimming across a river. Once we arrived at the trailhead, we hiked in fog and rain to Ptarmigan Tunnel and then to Iceberg Lake. We counted the piles of fresh bear scat that we passed on the trail. Wildflowers abounded in the high meadows. This astonishing day was just one of many in these mountains. Wait, it seems that I forgot to mention anything about the Black Lips record. Well, this is because Satan’s Graffiti…or Is It God’s Art is forgettable. To be fair, someone might contend that the experience and beauty of the national park served as a distraction and did not allow me to appreciate the record. For me, music has the potential to diminish or enhance an experience, just as the place can influence how I feel about music. Throughout the week, we listened to music that complemented our experiences and that is woven into memories of these days. This is not the case with the new record by the Black Lips. It seems uninspired. It sounds like the band just showed up tired and fucked around while making the record. This is unfortunate, as I have very much enjoyed several of their previous records. Fortunately, for us, we had many other great records that satisfied us on this trip.  

Glen Campbell (1946-2017)

Spooner D:

My first exposure to Glen Campbell was on TV; really this was the only media I had access to as a child of the 1980s. Hee Haw wasn’t really a Sunday dinner time ritual as it was a way to pass the time before the table was set. This show was beloved in the South, but both of my parents were from the North. The Lawerence Welk Show, which followed Hee Haw, was much more of a draw. Nevertheless, something about Hee Haw sucked me. I remember Glen Campbell playing “Ghost Riders in the Sky.” I am not sure who he played with, Buck Owens or Roy Clark, but I was mesmerized by it. Maybe it was the song, but this performance has always stuck with me. This was the first song I learned how to plan on guitar in high school on my friend’s Dad’s 12 string. I later learned of Glen’s connection with the Beach Boys thru yet another TV show or special. My dad adored the Beach Boys, and I knew more about them than I did about the Catholicism that was forced down my throat every Wednesday and Sunday. I’m not a Glen Campbell fan or follower but truly connect him with that time of my childhood. He was a great guitarist, which I now know and appreciate. Many of my musical influences are a result of a personal connection with a performance, rather than a studious approach to dissecting an album, and Glen was definitely one of those. RIP Glen Campbell and thank you for the memories.

PaulySure:

I didn’t really grow up listening to Glen Campbell as much as I did all the members that made up The Highwaymen, and other more “outlaw” style country. At that time, I mostly just knew “Rhinestone Cowboy.” Glen Campbell’s more or less someone I got into within the last 3 years, primarily after finding out how important he was to music through way of the most important studio band, The Wrecking Crew. With that said, I think that makes him possibly the second most important member of the Beach Boys.

SoDak:

When I grew up in the 1970s, Glen Campbell was everywhere. His songs were played across the dial on AM radio stations. I fondly remember listening to his versions of “Gentle on My Mind,” “By the Time I Get to Phoenix,” “Wichita Lineman,” and “Galveston” while riding in the backseat of my parents’ car. Glen Campbell’s countrypolitan music was smooth and comfortable. Along with my mother, I would sing the chorus, while staring out across the South Dakota plains. In 1975, his pop song, “Rhinestone Cowboy,” was a massive hit. While I preferred his songs from the 1960s, I would also sing the sweeping chorus of “Rhinestone” every time it was on the radio. In many ways, Glen Campbell was woven into my childhood, as a familiar musical thread. It is only many years later that I learned about The Wrecking Crew, the Los Angeles studio band, which played the music on so many of the hit songs and records throughout the 1960s. Glen Campbell was one of the members of this elite group. During the last decade, I bought his new records as they were released, and was pleased to find many songs that I particularly enjoyed. His contribution to the history of rock and country is undeniable.