Friday Night Jukebox, Vol. XL--Uncle Tupelo: Still Be Around

One of my fondest Thanksgiving memories is of one a couple of years after I'd moved to Michigan.  My kids had come to visit and after working my Thanksgiving shift for Kmart I was making tacos for our Thanksgiving dinner (don't laugh--tacos make a fine Thanksgiving meal).  My daughter was reading on the couch, my (now oldest) son was looking through my collection of CDs, and we were listening to  89/93:  Anthology by Uncle Tupelo.  I was stirring the Spanish rice when "Still Be Around" came on, and as music lovers are wont to do, I began singing along.  A couple of verses in it occurred to me that I wasn't the only one singing--when I peeked out into my apartment's family room my daughter and son were singing along as well. the three of us in not so perfect three-part harmony, enjoying the song as we went about our tasks.  And it seemed as natural as the fingers on our hands and the toes on our feet.

Such is the power of music.

Hailing from Belleville, Illinois (our home for fifteen years, give or take), Uncle Tupelo is considered one of the progenitors of alternative country (a notion they dispute) which is really saying something for a band that lasted only seven years and produced a mere four albums (though there is often strength in small numbers).  Oddly enough, considering I lived in Belleville through Uncle Tupelo's beginning, middle, and end, I came to their music in a rather roundabout way and long after their 1994 break up.  I was actually a big fan of Wilco, original band member Jeff Tweedy's post Tupelo band (I was also a fan, though to a much lesser extent, of Tupelo founder Jay Farrar's post Tupelo band, Son Volt), and on a whim my daughter sent a copy of Uncle Tupelo's Anthology thinking I might like it, too.  It was love at first listen.

Two minutes, thirty-nine seconds.  It is sometimes amazing how much can be crammed into two minutes and thirty-nine seconds of music.  Released on their second LP, Still Feel Gone, "Still Be Around" has a world-weariness to it that belies the twenty something ages of its writers.  Jay Farrar's vocals are perfectly understated and the song is driven by the simplest of melodies and some omniscient acoustic guitars.  Ostensibly about battling the ravages of alcohol (I think), I've always thought the song could also be a metaphor for battling the ravages of depression as well.  If anyone ever asked me what it's like to suffer from depression, I'd steal a line from "Still Be Around" and say it's exactly like, "..walking the line, upside down."  The song closes with an acoustic guitar break that's one part walking down the yellow brick road, and one part slamming on your brakes in the rain.  All in all, a fine addition to the folk canon.

Fun factoid:  The original members of Uncle Tupelo went to the same high school as my two oldest kids.  Go mighty Maroons!

Enjoy:

Peace,
emaycee