For certain geeky children of the 80s, the mixtape was not simply a means of sharing music or taking it with you. Cassette tapes were necessary, true, if you wanted to introduce a friend to new music or take it to a party; for the most part, this was true well into the late 1990s. But the cassette mixtape served a more significant purpose for the relationship-obsessed: an important and often scary stage in courtship. The analog audio equivalent of "pinning" or "going steady," the creation of a mixtape meant things were getting serious (for at least one of the people involved, anyway). In this brief essay, I explore the last romantic mixtape I would ever make and explain why it apparently worked, or at least did no harm.
An Anachronism
I made this mixtape in 1999, and in many ways it was an exercise in anachronism. For one thing, the cassette as a music format was mortally wounded. No longer required for musical variety in the home stereo, the cassette had already become redundant at home with the advent of inexpensive multi-CD changers, some of which held anywhere from 5 to 200 CDs in magazines or carosels. Most decent car audio systems still came standard with cassette decks, as the trusty cassette was still the only way non-geeks could make their CD collections portable (widespread CD burning being a couple of years off).
But the cassette was, as the Brits say, definitely "on the back foot" and acknowledged by nearly everyone to be on its way out. Technology aside, the primary reason this mixtape was anachronistic had nothing to do with the fact that it was 1999. It had to do with my age. This was not, it seemed to me, the way a "grown up" 31-year old person expressed himself in a mature relationship. Married in my very early 20s and only recently single after several years of being "out of it" in more ways than one, my ideas about dating and courtship were decidedly "analog."
One last observation before we delve into the music. The fact that I now hold this mixtape in my hands is evidence that our story is a comedy, and not a tragedy. You see, romantic mixtapes are made to be given away. And romances that end--amicably or no--do not customarily conclude with a return of gifts exchanged during courtship, and this is especially true of mixtapes. Oh, a mixtape from an -ex might get angrily destroyed, casually casted off to another person who expressed an interest in it, or secreted away as an idol, trophy, or artifact. But seldom would it be returned to its creator. In fact, this is the only one of my mixtapes I currently have, and this is due to the simple fact that I married the woman I made it for; a comedy, indeed. For reasons that should be obvious, this essay will focus on the music and not intimate or personal secrets of my relationship. After all, it is my intent to stay married, and spilling intensely personal information all over the blogosphere would not be a positive step toward that goal.
"Cement Mixer Mix"
For me, the title of a mixtape was always important. In 1999, I had not made a mixtape in nearly 10 years. But my modus operandi had been etched into my cerebral cortex from countless hours of making tapes during sleepless all-nighters. A common practice of mine was to borrow a song title (or a key lyric) from deep within the mix. In many ways the centerpiece of this mix, the track "Cement Mixer" by Slim Gailliard and Slam Stewart gave the mix its title. Track number eight on the mix, this song put forth the kind of image of myself that I desperately wanted to project: funny, irreverent, witty, old fashioned, whimsical, and rare. Here lie the adolescent roots of the mixtape: its message is simultaneously “you are special” and “I am hip and interesting.” There was also the play on the word Mix, which I thought was pretty cute. Like most of my mixtapes, this was to be a real genre-buster, spanning techno, R&B, neo-classical, jazz, pop, and rock. The metaphor of a cement mixer was a good one, I thought.
The mix begins with "Girl," a touching piano & vocal from the short-lived Australian band "Frente!" While it may have seemed risky to begin a mixtape with a song of this title when the intended recipient is a gorgeous 32-year old HR professional with a masters degree in labor relations, it seemed to fit. The touching, plaintive melody is festooned with figurative language: "A girl is a verb / A whirl of color." This track had to be first.
I continue with "Three Is A Magic Number," a mid-90s remake by Blind Melon of the Schoolhouse Rock song. This song established our common generation: no child of the late 1960s could have possibly escaped Schoolhouse Rock during Saturday morning cartoons. The track also implied an interest in starting a family in the future: "A man and a woman had a little baby / There were three in the family." These were uncharted waters for a mixtape: I had certainly never hinted at a desire to settle down and have kids using music before!
Next we have "I Had A Dream I Was Falling Thru A Hole In The Ozone Layer" by Deee-Lite, mostly because it has such cool beats. I also remember selecting songs mostly by the atmosphere they created, and this track really captures that disorienting feeling of "falling for" someone. That mood continues in a more contemplative manner with Björk's "Immature," which is actually a song about maturity: "How could I be so immature ? / To think he could replace, / The missing elements in me, / How extremely lazy of me." Primarily for my own benefit, I believe, Bjork's message demonstrates that this new relationship was developing from a sense of being comfortable with myself.
The best received song on the mix was “Gymnopédie #1” by Erik Satie, performed here by Peter Blanchette on a funky 11-string instrument called the archguitar. This didn’t surprise me. In many ways, this song conjured the essence of the recipient’s personality: complex, lyrical, not easily classified as major or minor. It was melancholy without being depressing, joyful without being exuberant. It was perfect. Following Satie was some Sade. While it seems like a stereotype, I think that most women my age like Sade. The punchy bassline from "Nothing Can Come Between Us" propels the mix forward, and the rhythmic refrain sets an important tone: “It’s about faith / It’s about trust.” Again, there’s some uncharted territory: permanence, everlasting. I think this one fits here.
After Sade, things start to get a little silly. “Cha-Chaborro” is one of few instrumentals on the fantastic debut album from Los Amigos Invisibles, a great Venezuelan party-funk band I had recently discovered. The guitar lead on this cha-cha is schmaltzy enough to be severely hip. This creates the right atmosphere to lead into the eponymous “Cement Mixer” by Slim Gailliard, also a guitar player. The scatting, mock Spanish, along with Slam Stewart’s distinctive bass, make this late 40s track irresistible. Any song with the word “Kraft cheese-o-rootie” has got to be good! After all this silliness, we need Stephan Grapelli to restore some degree of civility with “Alabamy Bound.” Playing over the same instruments (guitar and bass), Grapelli’s jazz violin gives a Hot Club de Paris sophistication to the mix.
In a transition that seems incompressible now, Grapelli is followed by “Stone Free” by Jimi Hendrix. I recall buying the Hendrix disc in a burst of nostalgia. I recall wanting to use “Crosstown Traffic,” but the lyrics were very suggestive in a “free love” sort of way—not the tone I was going for. So I am left with this anthem to bachelorhood: “You can’t hold me down / I don’t wanna be down / I gotta move on.” Likewise, the David Lindley track “Ain’t No Way” creates similar suggestions with its refrain “Ain’t no way you gonna get to me.” In retrospect, I can only imagine that the tone and atmosphere set by the music was the intended message. Certainly the “mixed messages” in this mix were unconscious or unintentional.
The mix closes with Towa Tei’s “Technova,” which is just a techno/house masterpiece in my opinion. I will forever associate this tune with the video that alerted me to Towa Tei shortly after he released his first solo record Future Listening! The image of him in his “Thinking Suit” (which came complete with a third arm for thoughtful chin scratching), along with the computer-generated animation of him walking his little dog, stuck with me in a strange and powerful way. Perhaps I was thinking: if the recipient of this mixtape will just fall in love with this music-loving geek (me) and his little dog (Murphy), the world will be a much nicer place.
As you can tell, that’s exactly what happened. These 12 tracks took Side A of a 90-Minute Fuji DR-II High Bias cassette. Side B wasn’t a thoughtful mix of carefully selected tunes, but a compilation of my favorite tracks by The Meters. Over the years, I probably made more compilation tapes than mix tapes, and “Cement Mixer Mix” was definitely the last. Below are links to some related reading on this same subject, as well this YouTube link to Towa Tei’s masterful video. Ah, to be 31 again!
For me, the title of a mixtape was always important. In 1999, I had not made a mixtape in nearly 10 years. But my modus operandi had been etched into my cerebral cortex from countless hours of making tapes during sleepless all-nighters. A common practice of mine was to borrow a song title (or a key lyric) from deep within the mix. In many ways the centerpiece of this mix, the track "Cement Mixer" by Slim Gailliard and Slam Stewart gave the mix its title. Track number eight on the mix, this song put forth the kind of image of myself that I desperately wanted to project: funny, irreverent, witty, old fashioned, whimsical, and rare. Here lie the adolescent roots of the mixtape: its message is simultaneously “you are special” and “I am hip and interesting.” There was also the play on the word Mix, which I thought was pretty cute. Like most of my mixtapes, this was to be a real genre-buster, spanning techno, R&B, neo-classical, jazz, pop, and rock. The metaphor of a cement mixer was a good one, I thought.
The mix begins with "Girl," a touching piano & vocal from the short-lived Australian band "Frente!" While it may have seemed risky to begin a mixtape with a song of this title when the intended recipient is a gorgeous 32-year old HR professional with a masters degree in labor relations, it seemed to fit. The touching, plaintive melody is festooned with figurative language: "A girl is a verb / A whirl of color." This track had to be first.
I continue with "Three Is A Magic Number," a mid-90s remake by Blind Melon of the Schoolhouse Rock song. This song established our common generation: no child of the late 1960s could have possibly escaped Schoolhouse Rock during Saturday morning cartoons. The track also implied an interest in starting a family in the future: "A man and a woman had a little baby / There were three in the family." These were uncharted waters for a mixtape: I had certainly never hinted at a desire to settle down and have kids using music before!
Next we have "I Had A Dream I Was Falling Thru A Hole In The Ozone Layer" by Deee-Lite, mostly because it has such cool beats. I also remember selecting songs mostly by the atmosphere they created, and this track really captures that disorienting feeling of "falling for" someone. That mood continues in a more contemplative manner with Björk's "Immature," which is actually a song about maturity: "How could I be so immature ? / To think he could replace, / The missing elements in me, / How extremely lazy of me." Primarily for my own benefit, I believe, Bjork's message demonstrates that this new relationship was developing from a sense of being comfortable with myself.
The best received song on the mix was “Gymnopédie #1” by Erik Satie, performed here by Peter Blanchette on a funky 11-string instrument called the archguitar. This didn’t surprise me. In many ways, this song conjured the essence of the recipient’s personality: complex, lyrical, not easily classified as major or minor. It was melancholy without being depressing, joyful without being exuberant. It was perfect. Following Satie was some Sade. While it seems like a stereotype, I think that most women my age like Sade. The punchy bassline from "Nothing Can Come Between Us" propels the mix forward, and the rhythmic refrain sets an important tone: “It’s about faith / It’s about trust.” Again, there’s some uncharted territory: permanence, everlasting. I think this one fits here.
After Sade, things start to get a little silly. “Cha-Chaborro” is one of few instrumentals on the fantastic debut album from Los Amigos Invisibles, a great Venezuelan party-funk band I had recently discovered. The guitar lead on this cha-cha is schmaltzy enough to be severely hip. This creates the right atmosphere to lead into the eponymous “Cement Mixer” by Slim Gailliard, also a guitar player. The scatting, mock Spanish, along with Slam Stewart’s distinctive bass, make this late 40s track irresistible. Any song with the word “Kraft cheese-o-rootie” has got to be good! After all this silliness, we need Stephan Grapelli to restore some degree of civility with “Alabamy Bound.” Playing over the same instruments (guitar and bass), Grapelli’s jazz violin gives a Hot Club de Paris sophistication to the mix.
In a transition that seems incompressible now, Grapelli is followed by “Stone Free” by Jimi Hendrix. I recall buying the Hendrix disc in a burst of nostalgia. I recall wanting to use “Crosstown Traffic,” but the lyrics were very suggestive in a “free love” sort of way—not the tone I was going for. So I am left with this anthem to bachelorhood: “You can’t hold me down / I don’t wanna be down / I gotta move on.” Likewise, the David Lindley track “Ain’t No Way” creates similar suggestions with its refrain “Ain’t no way you gonna get to me.” In retrospect, I can only imagine that the tone and atmosphere set by the music was the intended message. Certainly the “mixed messages” in this mix were unconscious or unintentional.
The mix closes with Towa Tei’s “Technova,” which is just a techno/house masterpiece in my opinion. I will forever associate this tune with the video that alerted me to Towa Tei shortly after he released his first solo record Future Listening! The image of him in his “Thinking Suit” (which came complete with a third arm for thoughtful chin scratching), along with the computer-generated animation of him walking his little dog, stuck with me in a strange and powerful way. Perhaps I was thinking: if the recipient of this mixtape will just fall in love with this music-loving geek (me) and his little dog (Murphy), the world will be a much nicer place.
As you can tell, that’s exactly what happened. These 12 tracks took Side A of a 90-Minute Fuji DR-II High Bias cassette. Side B wasn’t a thoughtful mix of carefully selected tunes, but a compilation of my favorite tracks by The Meters. Over the years, I probably made more compilation tapes than mix tapes, and “Cement Mixer Mix” was definitely the last. Below are links to some related reading on this same subject, as well this YouTube link to Towa Tei’s masterful video. Ah, to be 31 again!
Other Thoughts on the Mixtape
1 comment:
Wow! Grapelli and Lindley on the same tape. Well done.
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