Farewell Tom Terrell

1950-2007

Jeff the Purple

by Bob Boilen

A friend of mine -- and a friend to so many others -- passed away.

I met Tom Terrell so many decades ago, I was in a band, and he was DJing at the 9:30 Club in Washington, D.C.
His love of music spanned a world of tastes. Recently, Tom was writing for NPR: wonderful bits of personal thoughts, eloquent and funny essays, like the time he and his friends went to see Yes. Back in their early days, you didn't see many black folks at a Yes concert. You can hear his essay here.
Tom managed the band Steel Pulse and was a terrific reggae DJ on WHFS, as well as an inspired music journalist and publicist. He loved to spread to the word about all music great and small. I will miss his smile and his positive force -- oh, and that wonderful, wonderful voice.

I've asked some friends who knew Tom Terrell to pass along some thoughts.
If you knew Tom Terrell, please add your memories.

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The greatest cheerleader and friend I've ever known. Tom on the surface was a people magnet --- that infectious smile, quick fire humor, the hours upon hours of chatter, will all be missed. Beyond the surface he was a wealth of knowledge and well of genuine enthusiasm. I remember many occasions when he would describe a music or musician that I had never heard. I would always find myself feeling like I had just tasted the juiciest music on the planet --- just from his words. Tom's sister called him a "promosexual" on the day he died and I laughed and laughed.

Bill Warrell
producer ...or DCI Production

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I never once spent time with Tom Terrell that I did not feel better for having been in his company. He was bright as a whip, funny as hell, and able to communicate his deep love for and knowledge of music to people from all walks of life. And whenever life or the biz were getting me down, he would grin and say in that gorgeous, radio-ready voice, "...but you're Christina Roden!" in a tone that had me convinced that this actually meant something, if only to him, which was more than enough. This was typical of his unstinting professional generosity and solidarity. You see, we were in the trenches together and we had each other's "back." I'll always miss him.
Christina Roden
Journalist, Producer, Publicist

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First met Tom when he worked at a record store that an acquaintance ran on Capitol Hill sometime in the mid- to late 1970s. He was somebody I immediately liked. I imagine that was most people's experience with him. He talked me into writing a few record reviews for free for a newsletter the store put out. It was so much fun just to talk about music with him. We fell in and out of touch over the subsequent years. From time to time, he would pitch stories he wanted to do for NPR, but nothing ever panned out. This year, we got to work together on his last record reviews for NPR. His enthusiasm for music had not dimmed one bit, despite his health. And, at a time when I was going through a rough spot at work, he helped me feel that our work together was important and fun and interesting. He rekindled my enthusiasm. He gave me new life when his was slipping away. He was an inspiration, and I imagine he was for a lot of people.
Tom Cole
Editor
National Public Radio
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For me, he was our own "First Man About Town" -- every place he went, Tom not only knew the owner, but anyone else there that mattered. Not only that, but they were glad to have his own brand of joy in the house. My life, and our city, is less without him.
Michael Jaworek
Promoter for The Birchmere
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Tom Terrell was a lovely human being with a huge smile and a warm hug. His love of music was deep and infectious, and he used his prodigious knowledge and great writing skills to spread the word to people far and wide. He was much loved in the music community and will be sorely missed.
Tina Pelikan
ECM Records

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I have this picture in my mind of the original long bowling-alley bar at dc space, way before we smashed through the wall to the barber shop that became the back bar, way before new wave and punk rock made its way to the loft (and nearly brought the ceiling down) when dc space was only open for lunch unless there was an avant-garde jazz concert or a performance art piece on a Friday or Saturday night, and that odd mix that inhabited our "cosmic neighborhood" bar is swilling down Harp lager or Whitbread Ale and there sits Tom Terrell, laughing and smiling and talking with everyone.
Michael Barron
friend, guitarist (Tiny Desk Unit)

9:16 AM ET | 11-30-2007 | permalink

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The Year's Best Music Was...

by Bob Boilen

On Monday December 3rd I'll have a conversation with Carrie Brownstein, Tom Moon, Meredith Ochs and Will Hermes about the music of 2007. We'll post that conversation for you to hear on our Web site Dec 6.

Here's what I asked them to share, and what I'm now asking you to dig into your 2007 collection and ponder:

1. What was your biggest surprise album of the year?
2. What was your biggest letdown?
3. What was the most innovative album of the year?
4. What was the best new band?
5. What was the best song of the year?

You can also vote for your favorite album of the year. We'll reveal the results of that poll on All Songs Considered Dec. 20th.

10:18 AM ET | 11-29-2007 | permalink

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Old Music Tuesday: Nirvana's 'Unplugged'

by Robin Hilton

I was a huge Nirvana fan, and Kurt Cobain's suicide (while not entirely unexpected) knocked the wind out of me. It's the only time I've ever felt grief over the death of a celebrity. Like a lot of fans, I spent the days and weeks immediately afterward repeatedly listening to In Utero and Nevermind, partly searching for clues that might have foreshadowed Cobain's death and partly to hold tight to the connection I'd felt with his songs.

As the years have passed, I've listened to Nirvana less and less. These days I only think of Cobain's death when some ridiculous gossip story about Courtney Love comes out.

I never owned a television in the '90s so I never got to see what many consider to be Nirvana's greatest performance: their acoustic set for MTV's Unplugged series... though I did buy the CD of it when it was posthumously released in 1994. Now, nearly 15 years after it was recorded, Geffen is finally releasing the complete performance on DVD, along with some amazing extras, like 5.1 sound, outtakes and rehearsal footage.

I got a demo of the DVD recently and finally watched it over the Thanksgiving break. I found it absolutely mesmerizing. I gazed wide-eyed at the show for more than an hour. It's a remarkably intimate and deftly orchestrated set of Nirvana's best work stripped bare. Of course, I'd heard most of the songs before. But being able to see Cobain perform and interact with the audience was almost haunting at times. You can sense he was troubled. There's a distance in Cobain's eyes and tension in his jaw. He's not entirely comfortable being there. But his performance was stunning and flawless. At some point it occurred to me Cobain was only 26 at the time. He looks much older.

It's a moving and memorable production... and amusing, too at times, if only to see all the flannel shirts and ratty cardigans in the audience. Thanks to Geffen Records for sharing this clip of "All Apologies."

2:40 PM ET | 11-27-2007 | permalink

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57 67 77 87 97 07

by Bob Boilen

This isn't a new code for "Lost." It is however the unified music theory. The Sevens.

Is this one of the best years for music in a long time?
I think so. If you agree then think about this as well:

1967 - Music turned on its head
The best 45 ever, Penny Lane and its "b" side Strawberry Fields
The birth of the Velvet Underground and Nico.
Those two events still reverberate constantly.

1977 - Talking Heads, Clash, Sex Pistols, Television all debut albums, and then there's Rocket to Russia.

I won't speak to 1987, we just did a piece on this blog about the Joshua Tree.

I'll skip 1997 because my faith in pop music had vanished, only to return a few years later. Was it a good year? You'll have to tell me.

1957 was pretty astonishing as well, West Side Story, Jailhouse Rock and John met Paul.

So how about this year?

I was putting together the list of all that I loved this year and I thought there was some great innovative music. The Animal Collective, Grizzly Bear, Panda Bear, Radiohead, Deerhoof, Caribou are just a few (lots of animals this year don't you think?

I've just compiled a list of 100 great records we covered this year on this website.
Maybe your favorite is on it, maybe not.

But we are asking you to vote for album of the year.
You get 5 choices, and you can write in what you don't see.

and think about The Sevens.

5:52 PM ET | 11-21-2007 | permalink

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Old Music Tuesday: 'The Joshua Tree' 20 Years Later

by Robin Hilton

I've only owned one rock poster my entire life and it was for U2's Joshua Tree. It was six feet by four feet and hung grandly on my wall all through college.

From 1980 to 1989 I bought a lot of '60s and '70s music but only two albums that were actually released in the '80s. Two records in ten years. One of them was Peter Gabriel's So... the other was U2's Joshua Tree.

I've often envied Boomers for coming of age during the creative explosion of the '60s and '70s. My generation wasn't so lucky. By the time we lurched into the 1980s it felt like we were out of creative milestones. The radio was playing Air Supply's "All Out of Love" and Christopher Cross' "Ride Like the Wind." It felt like everything that could be done had been done, leaving us with mawkish pop and hammy hair metal bands.

The 1980s was a decade of excess. Pop culture was over the top. Overly bright colors and space-age cuts were the fashion, with bright plastic jewelry and hairdos blown to gravity-defying heights. It was an exaggerated sensibility that worked its way into music as well, particularly in the production. Much or most of it was bursting with a nauseating array of cheesy, synth-driven beats and melodies.

By 1987 I was used to tuning everything out. My first exposure to The Joshua Tree was an accident. I was at a friend's house and the TV was on. I wasn't paying much attention. But at some point I looked up and saw what looked like a breaking news event. The streets of Los Angeles were filled with people, all gawking skyward. Cops everywhere. U2 was on a rooftop, breaking into "Where the Streets Have No Name."

The song was like nothing else I'd heard. It radiated. The Edge's guitar was shimmering and majestic. Bono's voice was so pure, and the words he sang rang with a passion and sincerity I'd not heard before.

Hearing the whole album later was an awakening for me. Something in the sound filled me with hope. It made me think the world might actually be more beautiful than I thought and not as empty as the times suggested. It was grand and uplifting. The Joshua Tree made it safe to care again.

I know there were other great albums produced in the '80s, (including other U2 albums) though few were ever on the radio. I also know some lifelong fans of U2 were turned off by the mega-success and slick production of The Joshua Tree. It's easy to dismiss something once it's popular. But sometimes the masses get it right.

When I learned Island Records was celebrating the 20th anniversary of The Joshua Tree with an impressive reissue (a remastered version of the original album, an extra CD of songs and a DVD with a full concert and documentary on the band), I took a moment to consider how two decades had gotten past me so quickly. Feeling wistful, I got into my car for the ride home from work, stuck my demo copy of the reissued CD in my player and cranked it. I hadn't heard the album in years. But, as with all truly great music, the pull was still there. As the opening notes grew louder, I got a little teary eyed and felt the same sense of hope from 20 years ago wash over me.

12:48 PM ET | 11-20-2007 | permalink

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My Confession

by Robin Hilton

The top five bands/artists I should love but really can't stand are:

1. The Beach Boys: Everyone talks about how amazing Pet Sounds was and I can't get through more than a few notes without running for the off switch. I've tried. Many, many times. It sounds like barbershop to me. Of all the bands I'm supposed to love but don't, the Beach Boys top the list. (I might like them more if I hadn't been forced to sing "Sloop John B" in high school show choir).

2. Elvis Costello: He seems like a cool guy and I can tell he's doing stuff that's entirely original... But something in his voice gives his melodies a harshness. I did think When I Was Cruel was interesting. But overall most of what I hear from him all sounds the same.

3. The Cure: When all my friends were getting into the Cure, I stood by and shrugged. Robert Smith seemed absurd to me, and not in a hip-ironic way. I really love gloomy, depressing, I-wish-I-were-dead music, so I keep thinking there must be something in the Cure I'd identify with. But all these years later I still can't listen to them.

4. Joy Division: They've got a vibe I like and whenever I see someone in a Joy Division t-shirt I immediately feel some connection, like we're probably in all the same clubs. But the truth is I really can't listen to Ian Curtis' voice and they've got that whole late '70s - early '80s post-punk sound that falls like a ton of bricks on my ears. Bob (host of All Songs Considered) loves this period more than any other for music and it's my least favorite.

5. Lou Reed: He did some truly amazing songs ("Walk on the Wild Side" "Street Hassle"). And I know he's probably the coolest guy to ever walk the earth. Not having grown up when he was making his biggest impact, I'm sure it's hard for me to really appreciate all he did. But he's produced some incomprehensibly bad work (The Raven) and the fact he can't sing loses its charm quickly. Chuck Klosterman says Lou Reed is simply "advanced," but sometimes bad is just bad. It's sort of like David Lynch. I used to think he was brilliant. Then, with his last couple films, I decided maybe he's just nuts.

10:49 AM ET | 11-16-2007 | permalink

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Where will our brains go to my lovely?

by Bob Boilen

This past weekend I saw the latest Wes Anderson film, The Darjeeling Limited. It's the story of 3 brothers and the cumulative baggage they carry. It's also tale of their spiritual quest.

The music in the film was curious. (quirky? :) ) And, like Wes Anderson's other films, the score plays a key roll. There's music by The Kinks -- a nice choice considering the story is about 3 brothers who can't get along; and, of course, The Kinks have long been about 2 brothers Dave and Ray, who don't get along

I wonder if Wes Anderson consciously made that choice.

Wes?

The Rolling Stones song "Play With Fire" is in film. There's also a song called "Where Do You Go To My Lovely", that has a line in it about an upper class French woman and the fancy apartment where she keeps her Rolling Stones records.

What drove me crazy when I saw the film is that I couldn't remember who wrote or sings "Where Do You Go To My Lovely". I could however remember every word.

I missed it flying by in the credits.

I was determined to remember, and I was also determined not to look it up.

The day will come, and it is almost here for many, when the answer to most any question, will be found in a relative instant. This is a huge cultural and dare I say major evolutionary shift.

My stubborn streak wanted my small brain to remember the artist that sang this fairly mediocre folk song. I knew that somewhere in my head, the synapses just hadn't fired in a while, or however it works (reminder: I'll have to look up how the brain remembers)

I went to sleep that night without knowing.

The next morning I woke, and the moment my feet hit the floor the name Peter Starstedt came to me. And then I connected that seemingly random name as the writer of that song.

Thank you brain,

and now here's the song.

10:31 AM ET | 11-15-2007 | permalink

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Old Music Tuesdays

by Bob Boilen

Despite the digital age, real mail still doesn't come on Sundays, and CDs continue to come out on Tuesdays. The Sunday mail thing I get, but the Tuesday CD thing? It's been that way forever, and I'm going to get to the bottom of this, (but not today).

Today starts Old Music Tuesday, and it's a chance for me to go through my LPs and 45s and play something -- sometimes, like today, at random, and sometimes with a sense of purpose. And always with a big smile on my face. It's nice to hold a record again.

We begin with a band I know almost nothing about; though I bought their 45.

What I do know is that the band Come On wrote a song that's somehow managed to creep into my head more than a few times since 1978.

It's called "Don't Walk on the Kitchen Floor." I'm pretty sure Come On was based in NYC.

Now, if you know anything about this band --or you were in this band, please write -- I'd be forever grateful.

12:26 PM ET | 11-13-2007 | permalink

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Quirk Overload: A Preponderance of Twee

by Robin Hilton

I haven't counted the number of times the word "quirky" appears in NPR music reviews, but I'm guessing it's a lot. It's not that we lack imagination when describing bands; it's that so many bands now are incredibly cutesy and kooky. Listen to just about any episode of All Songs Considered and you'll hear it.

The quirk aesthetic dominates indie pop and rock, and I admit to loving it. I think, in general, it's a sensibility that's inspired some wonderful creativity. Listen to Jens Lekman or Dan Deacon. But the preponderance of quirk does have me thinking some of it is disingenuous, or cutesy-kooky for the sake of being cutesy-kooky.

There's an interesting article on the effects of quirk on pop culture in the latest issue of Atlantic Monthly. Among many other points, author Michael Hirschorn notes that "quirk, loosed from its moorings, quickly becomes exhausting."

I definitely find myself rolling my eyes from time to time with some of the music I'm hearing. I thought Joanna Newsom was just ridiculous until I met her and found her to be utterly charming and wise beyond her years. (Though I still can't listen to her music).

I love Animal Collective, but after a while it gets, as Hirschorn notes, exhausting.

Have you had enough quirk yet? Are bands like The Go! Team and Fiery Furnaces being quirky for quirky's sake? Or is it a legitimate and heartfelt sensibility that best illuminates the deeper ideas and feelings of the artists?

12:45 PM ET | 11-12-2007 | permalink

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John Coltrane and Video Games

by Bob Boilen

I think musicians make music for one of two reasons: to entertain, or because they have no choice; it's bursting out of them.

There's a new game for the iPod called "Phase." Basically, it's Guitar Hero for the jog wheel set. The music that comes with the game is just a hoot -- totally entertainment music.

Who writes this stuff? Do they know how funny it is? My son and I laughed so hard, it hurt.

When you play Phase, you have to click your iPod while these little "notes" come at you on the screen; they come at you to the beat of the music. The songs written for the game have great titles like "The Theme of the Awesome." This music is the epitome of music as entertainment. And I love the way this music can make me laugh.

One feature of the game Phase is that you can put any song on your iPod and play to its rhythm.

I wonder what would happen if I picked John Coltrane as my soundtrack to Phase. Total entertainment meets absolute soul.

If the sky turns blood red and tiny frogs fall from the clouds, you may know why.

5:07 PM ET | 11- 8-2007 | permalink

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Top Five Lyrics: Best Song Lines Ever

by Robin Hilton

I was talking with a friend recently who told me she never listens to lyrics. She couldn't even quote a single line from a song, even though there are plenty she listens to and loves. She's probably not alone.

A few years ago Sigur Ros proved you can sing pure gibberish in a made up language and still make beautiful music people will love listening to. I'm thinking of their unpronounceable 2002 album ( ).

But for me, the lyrics are everything. I can take a monotone melody if what they're saying cuts to the bone.

Here are my top five lyrics of all time. In no specific order:

1. "I've got a broken heart and your name on my cast. And everybody's gone at last. -- Elliott Smith from "No Name No. 5"

2. "I'm an American aquarium drinker. I assassin down the avenue. I'm hiding out in the big city blinking. What was I thinking when I let go of you? -- Wilco from "I'm Trying to Break Your Heart"

3. "When I was drinking, when I was with you, living it up when the rent was due, with nothing and no one to live up to." -- Hem from "When I Was Drinking"

4. "I could make a career of being blue. I could dress in black and read Camus, smoke clove cigarettes and drink vermouth like I was 17 that would be a scream but I don't want to get over you." -- Stephin Merritt from "I Don't Want to Get Over You"

5. "Don't let it bring you down. It's only castles burning. Find someone who's turning, and you will come around." -- Neil Young from "Don't Let it Bring You Down"

Let us know what your favorite lyric is... or give us your top five.

11:30 AM ET | 11- 8-2007 | permalink

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Best Song I've Heard All Week

by Robin Hilton

If anyone knows what language this is, let me know... the singer could be reading names out of a phone book and I'd still love it.

9:45 AM ET | 11- 7-2007 | permalink

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Blog One: Stephin Merritt

by Bob Boilen

In August, I called up Stephin Merritt of The Magnetic Fields, Future Bible Heroes and Gothic Archies. He seemed a natural for this idea I had: to document the songwriting process. We gave him two days in a studio filled with drums, guitars, a Moog synthesizer, a sitar, samplers, a grand piano and more.

We wanted to make his stay here comfy, so I asked him, "What do you like to sit on when writing a song?" I figured he'd say a couch or a nice chair with a table lamp or some such, but he said, "A barstool."

I figured that was easy. A day later, it occurred to me that he meant he likes to write his music while sitting in a bar -- it wasn't the damn stool!

So we scrambled to get a bar -- he wasn't a prima donna, mind you, but I wanted to make him feel at ease. Our photo editor Coburn knew someone with a bar and some stools, so our studio engineer Chris and I, along with my son, hopped in a white van, went for a ride and carted the bar back to NPR and into what we call Studio 4A.
When Stephin Merritt arrived, he liked what he saw, including the green tea and the 1974 Scotch.

Below is the video that documents Stephin writing and recording the song. It's called The Man of a Million Faces and was filmed by John Poole, the videographer for NPR.

Welcome to Project Song, and also to our blog.

Look out for Old Music Tuesdays and other fun.

Robin Hilton and I will share/fight for this space.

Bob

6:04 PM ET | 11- 4-2007 | permalink

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