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‘chele made an interesting comparison upon listening to Secret Machines:

they sound like a mix between Love And Rockets, and The Jesus and Mary Chain

and I’d have to agree. Nowhere Again sounds like it could be straight off of Express.

I picked up Now Here is Nowhere from The Secret Machines this morning on the way into work. I’ve been looking for it at Target every time I’m there with the family, but the clerks there look at me like I have three heads when I ask for it.

I’m glad I finally just went and got it. It’s an amazing album. From the first track to the end is a listening ream: complex layers of fantasic music. The sticker on the package said “the next big thing”, and I hope so. I don’t buy many CDs, so when I do plunk down hard cash for one I expect it to be good. The last couple I’ve purchased have been disappointments (A.F.I. and Metallica, not to name names). I’m glad I didn’t buy the new Beastie Boys album, as I’m still not sure of it.

So, it’s refreshing when I buy a CD based on a couple of tracks and find that the rest is worthwhile as well. I don’t regret the $14 one bit.

Favorite track so far: Track1, First Wave Down. I could drown in the melodies here.

Back in the late 80s, my brother-in-law Tim was in a local Detroit band named Territorial Chant. T-Chant was fronted by an amazing singer/songwriter named Matt Schellenberg. I saw the performance of their album “Ek-Kuntai” and immediately bought the tape. Many years later, I’ve since worn out that original tape as well as the others I’ve picked up along the way. The last I had heard,the members of T-Chant had parted ways when Matt and his wife became missionaries.

Fast forward to 2004: on a whim, I google’d for Territorial Chant, and was surprised to find more than a couple of hits: some music on mp3.com, bassist David Mastick’s personal site, as well as an official site for the band. To my joy, I’ve found out that T-Chant is back in the studio! I can’t wait to hear what they produce next.

“this is from ‘72 also, about being on the road, it’s called Turn The Page, yeah”

I grew up listening to this. I remember my parents buying our first copy on vinyl and playing to it almost constantly. This and Neil Diamond’s Hot August Nights define a lot of my earliest music memories. Two vinyl copies and a cassette version later, I finally got this on CD as an anniversary present. Growing up in Detroit, it always felt like Seger was “our” superstar, that we only let him out occaisionally to the rest of the world to enjoy. Even now, hearing someone in St. Louis or Atlanta say “yeah, I like Bob Seger” is a strange event, a feeling of “that’s not quite right”. Live Bullet is Seger in his living room, playing for his extended family. His later live album Nine Tonight never had that feel for me. Part of it was recorded at home, the rest on the road.

Listening to this, I’m homesick. No matter where we live, Detroit will always be home to me. I think it comes from the knowledge that’s gained in childhood, learned vicariously from parents, relatives, neighborhood kids, the local paper and all the other non-obvious sources of information that we all learn from.

Atlanta was becoming like home for us. For the 5 years we lived there, we settled in and started to put down roots. Most of the people there were transplants. One of the first questions usually asked when first meeting someone was “And where are you from?”, closely followed by “where’d you go to college?”. Calling a store and asking where they’re located at turned into an extended directions conversation, as the assumption that everyone knew where things were was false.

We’re coming up on 5 years now in St. Louis, and I don’t have that sense here. St. Louis isn’t outsider-friendly. I’ve found very few people who’ve moved here from elsewhere, which leaves a large population of people who all have the same shared experience. They know without explaining where Euclid is, the Pageant is a club, or gooey butter cake. Having to ask for an explanation or details on every uknown reference gets only increases the feeling of alienation.

Being told that I’m hated simply because I’m from Detroit doesn’t help either.

So yes, Bob Seger is from Detroit, and he’s OURS first and foremost. We knew him first, he played there first, and you’re only bandwagoners. We let you borrow him but he’ll always come home.

“and those are memories that make me a wealthy soul”