Myusic in My Mind

I’ve got that tune,

stuck in my head,

driving my crazy.

I lie awake in my bed.

The telephone rings.

I ain’t answered in days.

No one can reach me,

when the melody plays.

It’s funny how it doesn’t take the best lyrics, the best guitars, the best singing or the best anything else to be perfect. Sometimes it’s not about the individual, but about the way individuals come together to become something greater than the sum of their parts.

In sports, the prime example is the ’72 Dolphins’ No Name Defense. With nary a star, they shut down opponents on their way to the only truly perfect season in NFL history.

In music, some might say that it was The Band who exemplify this the best. Though no one can deny the talent of their players, The Band thrived on refusing to be a showcase for solos or individual virtuosity.

Well, once upon a more recent time, there was a band that did it for me in that perfect sort of way. The right place and the right time, they brought the right pop sensibilities into the jam-heavy world of New York’s early ’90s scene. Still, they never forgot their jazz background or the bluesy roots-rock overtones that many of their fans craved. As a result, their music made them a touring success and a record label albatross. They made music for their fans and we loved them. Most of all, we want them back.

The original band lineup, chillin' on some Colorado rocks. At left is Dean Mullin, their original sound man. (Many thanks to Michael Weiss, who took the shot, ID'd Dean and provided the location.)

I miss God Street Wine.

They came up on shuffle during my walk to work the other day. It was “Waiting for the Tide,” from a show they did up at the Paradise in Boston back in 1994. I heard it and I felt the special knowledge that you only get from the music you most love. Like the above quote from their unreleased song “When the Melody Plays,” it put me in that spot of perfect contentment where no one could reach me. I was transported to a place I hadn’t been in a while and I remembered what it feels like to be home. Needless to say, I took it off shuffle.

So what it is about them? Why do they so resonate with their fans? Well, part of it is circumstantial. As I was finding my musical center in early high school, I needed a band of my own. I listened to plenty of Bruce and the Dead and Buffett at that point, but I had to share them. I liked Phish, too, but I always felt like I was an outsider with them, struggling to pick up on all the inside knowledge. Rather than racing up the stairwell, trying to catch up, I needed a band I could step into the elevator with on the ground floor.

God Street was my band. I knew them early, met them before I’d ever seen them perform and felt a highly personal connection the artists and their music. I saw them over and over, standing right in front of the speaker stacks at Irving Plaza or on the right by Aaron and Dan at the Wetlands. I saw them as Aaron Maxwell’s Intimacy Workshop (not Jon Bevo’s Love Orchestra) in Rhinecliff and bought a t-shirt. I even wrote a paper on them, my junior year in high school. The assignment was to write about an American artist. For me, they more than sufficed.

Why am I writing about God Street Wine today?

I need fun music. I miss going down to the Wetlands and dancing till I was sore. I miss the thrill of guessing what song might be next and the emotional connection with each cracked vocal and guitar whine. I miss seeing a show and knowing every nuance of every song. I knew they’d play “Nightingale” every time out, but I still went crazy every time I heard those opening chords. I miss the pride of feeling that every great show was a shared success among all of us.

To me, God Street Wine represent my musical innocence from a time when the bands I listened to seemed more interested in their live audience having fun than their album purchaser being impressed. Albums were about paying bills. Shows were about energy and celebration. I loved them and I miss them.

Now, before I sound all curmudgeon, I go to shows all the time and very many of them are excellent. I buy more albums than ever and I believe the current rock landscape is as exciting and saturated with talent as I’ve ever seen. Right now, as much as ever, rock is art. To call it a renaissance would not be too much.

Still, the sophistication of today’s rock acts, many who competently use the studio as an instrument, makes me nostalgic of years past. It makes me miss those five musicians who used to get up on stage and lay it all out there for hours on end.

I miss you Lo, Aaron, Bevo, Dan and Tomo. I miss you too, Pete, Aubrey and Jason. You guys will forever be a part of my life. If you ever consider a reunion, I promise you I’ll be first on line for a ticket.

To hear from Lo, check out this interview he recently gave to The Great Southern Brainfart.