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Better Ed than Dead

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(Steven J Wilson)

Ed Sheeran - He looks like Van Morrison, kinda, huh? Check the tats.  

Ed Sheeran is the highest paid entertainer on the planet. I think. I don’t know. They say he’s worth 65 million. Anyway, I read that somewhere. God knows he travels light and doesn’t have to share that dough with an orchestra or anything.

I saw Ed once. At least that I’m aware of. He opened for the Rolling Stones in 2015 (or was it 16?) at Arrowhead Stadium in Kansas City. Just me and several thousand of my closest friends. He came out with a guitar in front of that throng and mesmerized the crowd. Okay, not really. Some kids seemed to like him. Old people, eighty percent of the attendees, treated him as a curiosity or mild irritant, not uncommon for a warmup act served up before the Stones’ Lions and Christians, bread and circuses exhibition. Later, he sang “Beast of Burden” with Mick. He was better than Dave Matthews.

I see his ruddy little mug and tousled ginger top here and there in the social media. He seems like a nice fella. What little of his music I’ve heard I found inoffensive, innocuous, fairly musical. But nothing to get hung about.

But context, you know, can be everything. Last night I was driving home from having seen If Beale Street Could Talk, which put plenty on my mind, about white privilege, the souls of black folks, and all kinds of stuff. I located the FM station with the best reception for the KU (Jayhawks) basketball and distracted myself with the talents of young African-Americans (mostly) performing for proprietary white (mostly) people. Go, team.

I’d tell you that I’m semi-retired and I just work at my encore career as a library flunky at Lawrence High School because I want to stay active and give back to my community. That would be 1/3 true. The other 2/3 is I need the money because life in the music business left me where it leaves most people in the music business – nowhere. I get social security; which Mitch McConnell wants to take away from me to pay for David Koch’s appropriation of National Public Radio. But I digress.


Alright, cut to the chase, I’m driving to work at 6:54 in the morning and the radio is tuned to the same station as the night before, only now the station has returned to its usual programming of ‘hits.’ And on comes “Castle on the Hill” by Ed Sheeran. I caught a fragment of lyric that was pedestrian, but evocative in its way. Attached to it was a sort of melody. Surrounding it was this predictable wash of “I, too, treasure my original copy of The Unforgettable Fire sounds.” And you know, it wasn’t bad. It told a story (you know, like country music … doink, doink, doink) and as I listened I was transported. Specifically, to being the age most of his target audience is. To not having a million prejudices and the weight of the western pop music canon on my temples. To hearing this not charmless little graft of “Brown-eyed Girl” and “Summer of ‘69” (without, perhaps, ever having heard either) and thinking … I like this.
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The people have spoken.

There is a town in Arkansas called Elaine.

(Steven J Wilson)
Elaine, Arkansas is in Phillips County, one of the poorest counties in the United States, a flat expanse of deprivation where your Google Maps won’t keep you from getting lost. Elaine is lost. It looks like a place where nothing good has happened in a very long time.  That's, at least in part, because something terrible happened there. Something a majority of Americans don't know about.  I'm educated as a historian, but I lack the imprimatur of an advanced degree. I will do my best to offer a concise history lesson.  The facts are straightforward. In order to escape destitution and indentured servitude, black sharecroppers in the Arkansas delta organized under the banner of the Progressive Farmers and Household Union of America. On the 30th of September 1919, a prominent, white attorney named Ulysses Bratton traveled the three hours from Little Rock to meet with the workers to discuss strategy. They met at a small church on the outskirts of Elaine at a place c...
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Robert Pollard and Richard Davies were COSMOS. At least in 2009. I like to keep up to date.

(Steven J Wilson)
I’ve been such a good lad. Writing almost like a responsible journalist. That’s not a bad thing, but I promised myself (and you) that SPEW would be a place for more dashed off bits.   Well, here’s one.   Cosmos. Ever heard of them? Unless you’re a Robert Pollard completist, probably not. Their sole release, Jar of Jam Ton of Bricks was released in 2009 (one of Pollard’s 100+ issues, only about a 1/4 of which are Guided by Voices titles). Cosmos was a collaboration with Richard Davies, Australian pop oddball and auteur behind the cult faves the Moles. The two of them share a certain aesthetic, a vision that embraces early John Cale, the first two Brian Eno records, Pete Townshend’s Scoop demos, bits and pieces of the Beatles, and a dash of early Syd Barrett.   Some of the songs on J ar of Jam are based on little more than acoustic guitar and percussion, especially woodblock, others are full band janglers. Because of the duo’s shared sensibility it all hangs...
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Jessica Lea Mayfield's unapologetic "Sorry is Gone"

(Steven J Wilson)
Jessica Lea Mayfield, of Kent, Ohio, released her first album With Blasphemy so Heartfelt ( produced by Dan Auerbach, fellow Ohioan) at the tender age of nineteen. I missed it. I probably shouldn’t have.   Her second Auerbach (Black Keys) produced record Tell Me arrived in 2011 when she was 22, 23 maybe. I listened to it. I heard talent. But somehow the combination of songs, performance and production didn’t really hook me.   Never bothered with her alleged grunge-rock record, the two previous had been loosely in the roots-rock/Americana idiom, called Make My Head Sing . No Dan Auerbach. I don’t know who produced it, but Mayfield described it loosely as dedicated to one of her favorite artists, Dave Grohl. Not being a huge fan of the Zelig of contemporary rock, that dedication probably soured me on the project. Sorry. For me and Jessica it was a matter of timing. The time is now. And the record is Sorry is Gone. Which is pretty great.   Mayfield and pr...
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