Signing My Checks "Yours Insincerely"

I get a terrific charge out of making and following connections, whether it be pursuing literary leads, discovering common acquaintances or interests, or just encountering some coincidence worth cherishing. Sometimes the satisfaction may be as simple as the closure of getting a question answered - but it often feels deeper, evoking sand-grain universes and the ecological interconnectedness Marvin G sang of (and Odum wrote of). Whatever it is, for me connections can be powerfully satisfying, and no matter what I might consciously plan, more than a little of my remaining cerebral processes always seem on the lookout for linkages, whether I intend it or not. The James Burke "Connections" series harmonizes well with much of this personal infatuation. The Internet and search engines of course are often just the hydrocortisone this sort of itch needs. Timely mini-example, given bloom peak: who was the forsythia named for?

I think I promised a little John Hiatt backstory a while ago. Regardless, I need to get it into words whether I did or didn't, whether you asked or no.

I had happy occasion one time back in the mid-80's to attend a free outdoor lunchtime performance by a local rock band featuring my brother-in-law on guitar. The jerky rhythms and quirky wordplay of one tune, "Falling Up," stuck with me. Keith debriefed me that the composer was one Mr. Hiatt. That led to the acquisition of "Riding With the King," revealing numerous other numbers confirming the gifts of this word-loving singer-songwriter. "She Loves the Jerk" is another highlight that might ring a bell if you've been here before, and title tune has gained some attention due to coverage by BB/Slowhand. Besides the aforementioned, I have a special soft spot for the down-at-the-heels ambience of "Death By Misadventure" and "You May Already Be a Winner," but there isn't a cut here that lets me down. Give this disk a few spins - and then explore further. "Bring the Family," "Slow Turning," and "Stolen Moments" are all top-notch, and those by now might be considered classic old disks, the most recent harking back to 1990 but all still with plenty of life to 'em. Sorry if your coterie can only tolerate the latest - they made great stuff way back then too. You risk bleakness in life if you don't make room for this guy in your playlist.

And what about connections you ask, thinking I'll never make one? I promise if you invest a few hours in JH you'll find plenty. Every listening does it for me. But aside from that I'll see and raise you two. Current reading is "Glimpses," by Lewis Shiner. This is music-oriented fiction (I am greatly enjoying, and wouldn't you know it there is a connection story here too, maybe never to be made explicit but clued in earlier music-writer posts here for the Sherlocks among you), so there are plentiful tune and artist references. But it is still a thrill to find a Hiatt mention threaded in amongst the Beach Boys, Doors, Beatles, Kinks, Marley et al.

More consequential dos. Recounting my virginal Hiatt awakening to hiking companion long ago, we pieced together the realization that the leader of Keith's band had occupied an apartment above Marshall back in the '80's, earning the sobriquet "Thumper" for his incessant heavy-footed drum practice. It's a small world after all (don't put those words to music whatever you do).

Falling Up

I'm gonna lower my standards and raise my price
I'm gonna take your lunch and your bad advice
Until my worse idea gets the big reward
Until I get out of this raggedy Ford
And into a shiny new two-seater
Dress my girlfriend up like a cheetah

I'm gonna sign my checks Yours Insincerely
For all of the money that you hold dearly
When my ego swells and my output dwindles
You can tell the world that you've been swindled
By the man who would have been so bitter
Had he never reconsidered

Falling up
To the top of the junk pile wearing a big smile
Falling up
To the top of the heap with my tongue in my cheek
I can't sit down 'cause I'm falling up

Well I used to think I had some duty
Now I only want the booty
And unless you've recently been anointed
Don't tell me you're disappointed
In the man who would have been so bitter
Had he never reconsidered

Now I pay no mind to innovation
Just over and over with the same sensation
Til I'm a short short subject on a long tape loop
That comes and goes like the hula hoop
In one ear and out the other
Nothing there to stop it brother

Falling up

[(c) John Hiatt]