Recently, I have been eating tomatoes. That’s a pretty big deal. My entire life, I have lived under the shadow of my disdain for the famous fruit-disguised-as-a-vegetable. With exception of the odd sauce or salsa, I just knew I did not like them. It’s been a thing so long I can’t remember when or how it started. I just didn’t like them – or eat them – and that was that. You know what that’s called?
Prejudice.
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I’m ashamed to say that’s probably not my only prejudice. We all carry them and, occasionally, express them. Members of one political party will cast disparaging remarks at members of another, based not on the merits or failings of individuals but under which banner they voted. Entire genres of music will be dismissed without, obviously, having exposed oneself to the entirety of the library. There is not a soul among us that has not uttered ‘I don’t like…’ without having considered what that might mean in its totality. It is, I suppose, the nature of the human beast. We know it’s wrong. We know it’s unfair. We know it’s one of the primary reasons we all, eventually, say something dumb.
I bring this up because, aside from the aforementioned tomatoes, I’ve found myself wrestling with another prejudice – one that has affected my own personal homelife and happiness. One that, as I approach it with a spirit of acceptance, has proven – at least on some level – false.
I always thought I hated my children’s music.
Early on I knew I did, and I knew why. The Frozen soundtrack was not written with me in mind. Neither was Hannah Montana or the Jonas Brothers (though they did have the occasional jam) or any of a slew of Nick and Disney brief teen sensations that polluted my carpool time with corny choruses. Later, my children became interested in what I call broadest common denominator music, the over-produced pop and under-conceived hip hop that often tops charts with quick cash rather than real relevance in mind. There may have been some gems in there, but they came at me in an endless barrage that, re-enforced by my now established prejudice, precluded any real engagement.
But recently something has happened, quietly and without fanfare. My children have become critical. They listen to music not because their friends or the car radio demand it, but out of a sense of discovery. My son, still in high school, has started leaning into classic rock and heavy guitars – spending hours plugging away at early Ozzy in a bass guitar. My daughter, now part of that all-important musical evolution called college, seems to be evolving out of pop country into avenues that feel more like Americana and folk rock. She has even turned me onto some stuff – specifically Zach Bryan and Noah Kahan. It has allowed me to connect with my children in a new and meaningful way. Stripping away my prejudice allows me to see them as people I can learn from, and that’s pretty spectacular.
Of course, my kids don’t care to listen to my music. I guess that is their prejudice.
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Bodega Cat
I’ve heard, and often enjoyed, a lot of Will McCranie projects over the years. Experiments in sound and structure and even writing seem to pour out of that guy. And as much as I have liked a lot of his work – even the youthfully-pretentious foray into guitar loops – I’ve always had a single compelling complaint with his approach to music.
Too much sauce.
If Will was going to concentrate on writing, for instance, he wouldn’t just shift focus. He would write song after song for an entire year. Too much Will. Too much sauce. If Will was going to play a song that could conceivably go on for ten minutes, he would challenge himself to stretch it to 20. Again, Will was applying too much sauce. But now I see the value in those experiments and excesses, because they have brought him and his band Bodega Cat to a place or real value and maturity. By wading deep, McCranie has discovered how to make disparate ideas work and, more essentially, work together.
This has all been beautifully realized in the three song EP ‘Say It With Me…BO-De-GA’. While it does cover some significant stylistic ground, with raw riffing guitar transitioning into delicate, almost Caribbean rhythms on ‘Birds Aren’t Real” and the chugging ‘Ballad of Captain Bullfrog’ wrapping with a surprise acoustic outro. But these don’t feel disjointed, ill-advised or – worst of all – overly prog. Instead, they offer the music a real sense of dynamics and forward momentum.
The EP’s final track might well be its centerpiece. ‘Where Are You Now?’, for me, is McCranie at his most confident. Stripped of any trick or gimmick, it exists as a simple and soulful rock song, buoyed by the best McCranie vocal I have ever heard. Lyrically it is reflective and thoughtful, and the arrangement carefully serves the song. It’s a true thing of beauty.
‘Say It With Me…BO-De-GA’ drops on streaming services today and Bodega Cat will celebrate the release with a performance at Southbound Smokehouse in North Augusta beginning at 9:30 p.m. Friday
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BURIED TREASURE: Video Archives
This podcast may be less a buried treasure than an as-of-yet-undiscovered treasure. However, you want to categorize it, it’s a real winner. The concept is both simple and complicated. When the legendary Manhattan Beach, Calif. video store Video Archives closed its doors, former employee and current capital-F Famous filmmaker Quentin Tarantino bought its entire library. Now he and his fellow employee (and filmmaker) Roger Avery are going through the collection, examining the hits and misses that, in many ways, formed their individual aesthetics. For, me, a child of the video store era, it’s a beautiful recollection of the lost art of video box browsing. For others, it promises to be an incredible, if perhaps idiosyncratic, introduction to movies that may have been lost or overlooked. Either way, the duo’s enthusiasm is infectious and fun. Check it out.
Uhles has worked as a professional journalist in the Augusta area for 22 years, and his Pop Rocks column ran in The Augusta Chronicle for more than 20. He lives in Evans with his wife, two children and a dog named after Hunter Thompson.
