January 24 - Sunday

I had to double check my memory against the setlist, because it is now just a little more than 12 years ago I had the privilege of seeing David Bowie on his last tour. It was a concert that really lived up to the roughly 20 years I had been building expectations for this momentous occasion. The band was top notch. Sterling Campbell on drums, Mike Garson on keyboards, Earl Slick on guitar, Gerry Leonard on guitar (and his musical director on this tour), Mark Plati on bass and guitar, and Catherine Russell on keyboards, percussion, acoustic guitar, and backing vocals.

I was very familiar with Mike Garson's work with Bowie - I was a huge fan of what he did on Outside, which was an album that may not have been too popular, but that really sat well with me. Earl Slick was another long running and familiar name with Bowie, but the person aside from Bowie I really was excited to see was Gail Ann Dorsey. This female bass player with her shaved head, playing and singing with both skill and grace, had long been on my radar. I even remember her song Wasted Country from the album The Corporate World back in 1988, when it was played on the very interesting music show Pandora's Jukebox, which aired on Norwegian radio every Saturday from the mid 80s to the mid 90s, I believe.

Another musician that really intrigued me in the band was Gerry Leonard, who was a new musical acquaintance for me. His use of effects to create moods and textures was fascinating, and I kept watching him to see how he constantly was turning knobs on a device that appeared to be at about hip height. I have since come to really appreciate his work, and it is very prominent on today's song.

About halfway through the main set, following the freneticism of Hallo Spaceboy, they toned everything down, dimmed the lights a little more, and the eerie, cold sounds of Sunday filled the Palace of Auburn Hills. On a winter day like today, I am thinking that Sunday is a very appropriate song. Please enjoy.

Thank You For Hearing Me (Sinead O'Connor)

I remember watching Sinead O'Connor's video for Nothing Compares 2 U, the Prince-penned love song, in my grandparents' living room. They were the only ones in my family who had cable TV, and it included MTV, which I always found curious, being that the cable deal was negotiated with the association where they lived - and they lived in a retirement community at the time where there was no interest for MTV (I should note that cable TV in Norway was about picking channels you wanted at that time - there was no basic distinction between 'basic' and 'expanded' as main package deals. 

While I did like Nothing Compares 2 U and her entire 'I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got' album, I was not prepared to hear 'The Lion and the Cobra', which was her debut album. My very good friend Nina Skaaden (now Schefte) had the album and taped it for me (along with Let Love Rule by Lenny Kravitz, another stunning album). When I popped it in the tape deck and heard Troy for the first time, I was so completely blown away - in fact, I was so enamored by this cute Irish chick with her shaved head that I kept checking out her music even after releasing 'Am I Not Your Girl', an album of standards that was lackluster, to say the least.

Fast forward a few years to 1994. The Norwegian military is based on conscription, which means that all males must serve their country through military service. However, they do allow for conscientious objectors, and as I was (and still am) a pacifist, I was doing my civil service in place of military service. In order to get this approved, I had to be interviewed by the police (I remember a pretty arrogant police officer who certainly didn't appreciate a giant long-haired peace loving guy's perspectives) - and when it was approved, I had to do 16 months of civil service in place of the by then 9 months of military service that was required. 

I showed up at Hustad Leir, a camp that originally had been used for the internment of traitors after World War II (and that now has been turned back into a prison - it wouldn't be a major adjustment), in the summer of 1994, thinking that I was going to the civil service 'boot camp' that lasted six weeks and then find placement for the rest of the time. When I got there, I was in for a surprise. First it was the geography. When you look through the gates of the camp, you see a vertical mountainside. No vegetation, just rock. On the other side was the ocean. There was maybe a mile or so between the camp and the coastline, but you could still almost smell the saltyness of the water. And, to make things even worse, the mist often came rolling in from the sea - or the clouds were trapped by the mountain side and pressed downward, creating an eerie light reflected by the vegetation around the camp (I seem to remember mossy rock, but that may not be true) and sucked up by the dark mountain side. The other part of the surprise was that I was there to be part of their staff. That's right, sixteen months at this desolate place instead of the six weeks. 

My initial assignment was working in the kitchen. While I liked it, I did have another job in mind, and I soon got the opportunity to work in the library there. It was the perfect job for me, surrounded by books and music, with a snooker table and cable tv at my fingertips. The snooker table was heavily used, and it was while playing snooker late at night that Sinead O'Connor's next album was played over and over again. It was called 'Universal Mother', and it is a fairly unknown masterpiece. It spans spoken word set to music (Famine), an excellent cover version of All Apologies (although not as sore as Nirvana's Unplugged version, which was released around the same time), political lyrics (they are all over), and the closing track is this excellent little song called Thank You For Hearing Me. It is built around a programmed drum loop, then instruments are added (mainly programmed on a synthesizer), and the lyrics are sung like a chant with each of the following lines repeated four times:

Thank you for hearing me

Thank you for loving me

Thank you for seeing me

And not for leaving me

Thank you for staying with me

Thanks for not hurting me

You are gentle with me

Thanks for silence with me

The next verse has four different lines

Thank you for holding me

And saying "I could be"

Thank you for saying "baby"

Thank you for holding me

Then she sings the next line four times before finishing a verse that turns the meaning of the song upside down:

Thank you for helping me

Thank you for breaking my heart

Thank you for tearing me apart

Now I've a strong, strong heart

Thank you for breaking my heart

While it can be argued whether this song truly captures the spirit of Thanksgiving, it is nonetheless a spectacular song. She plays around with dynamics and instrumentation, but it is the same melody that is repeated over and over again. So simple, yet so complex - and it adds emphasis to the lyrics. Enjoy this live version of the song. Sinead actually has hair in this one - and she is almost cuter than she was without hair (for my infatuation with bald women, it is safe to assume that Gail Ann Dorsey will be discussed in a later posting - but that will have to wait).