Song of the Week – Brown Eyed Handsome Man, Chuck Berry; Brown Eyed Girl, Van Morrison; Good Times Bad Times, Led Zeppelin; Brown Eyed Women, Grateful Dead

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The use of the term “brown-eyed” as a coded or sanitized lyrical euphemism for a person of color has served as a clever way for R&B and rock artists to signal racial identity, celebrate Black beauty, or sidestep segregation-era radio censorship for decades.

One of the earliest and most famous examples is Chuck Berry’s “Brown Eyed Handsome Man,” released 70 years ago in 1956.

Written during the last gasp of the Jim Crow era, Berry employed the title phrase as a winking, multi-layered code for a brown-skinned Black man.  By framing his subject in terms of attractiveness, charisma, and resilience, Berry created an anthem of pride that celebrated Black identity while remaining accessible to mainstream audiences who might miss the song’s deeper social commentary.  The result was both subversive and commercially viable.

A decade later, Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl” carried similar implications.  The song was originally written and recorded under the title “Brown Skinned Girl,” a phrase that more directly suggested an interracial relationship.

Concerned that such an explicit reference might provoke controversy or limit radio airplay in the late 1960s, the title and key lyric were changed to the more generalized “Brown Eyed Girl.”  While Morrison later suggested that the change may have resulted from a recording mix-up, music historians have long viewed it as a practical concession to the racial sensitivities of the era.

Led Zeppelin offered another intriguing variation in “Good Times Bad Times.”

Good Times, Bad Times, you know I had my share / When my woman left home for a brown eyed man, well, I still don’t seem to care.

Rock historians and musicologists have frequently debated the song’s reference to a “brown-eyed man,” with many interpreting it as a nod to Chuck Berry’s vernacular.  Given Led Zeppelin’s deep immersion in — and frequent borrowing from — African American blues and early R&B traditions, some critics view the phrase as an intentional coded reference to a Black man.  Within the blues tradition, losing a romantic partner to an outsider or a person of another race was a recurring lyrical theme.

The Grateful Dead’s “Brown-Eyed Women,” however, occupies murkier territory.  Unlike the Berry, Morrison, and Zeppelin songs, there is little evidence that the title was intended as a racial reference.

Brown-eyed women and red grenadine / The bottle was dusty but the liquor was clean

Instead, the song unfolds as a Depression-era narrative populated by bootleg whiskey, family hardship, and fading memories.  The phrase “brown-eyed women” functions primarily as part of the song’s rich tapestry of Americana rather than as an obvious racial signifier.  Lyricist Robert Hunter was famous for writing evocative, open-ended lyrics and generally resisted providing definitive explanations for their meaning.  Neither Hunter nor Jerry Garcia ever suggested that the title carried a racial dimension.

As a result, “Brown-Eyed Women” remains an interesting outlier.  While listeners are free to interpret the song through a racial lens, there is no persuasive evidence that such an interpretation reflects Hunter’s intent.  Yet its title inevitably invites comparison with a long tradition of songs in which “brown-eyed” served as a subtle marker of race, identity, and cultural expression.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Helpless, Sugar

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Bob Mould made his first big splash in the music business with the band Hüsker Dü.   The Minnesota-based punk rock band, founded in 1979, released a string of critically acclaimed albums on the independent SST label, including Zen Arcade and New Day Rising, before moving to Warner Bros. for Candy Apple Grey.  Dozens of bands that followed have cited Hüsker Dü as a major influence.  In fact, it is hard to imagine the grunge movement of the 1990s taking the same shape without Hüsker Dü paving the way.

After Hüsker Dü dissolved, Mould embarked on a solo career, releasing a series of albums between 1988 and 1991.  The first of these, Workbook (Virgin, 1989), was outstanding.

By 1992, Mould was feeling the urge to play with a band again.  He teamed up with bassist David Barbe and drummer Malcolm Travis for a few informal jam sessions.  Having lived in Boston during the last quarter of the 20th century, I was already familiar with Travis from his work with Human Sexual Response — a band I saw live numerous times — as well as the Zulus.  The chemistry between the three musicians was immediate, so they decided to stay together under the name Sugar.

Today’s SotW is “Helpless” from Sugar’s debut album, Copper Blue.

“Helpless” is a perfect example of the Sugar sound: layers of melodic guitar, driving rhythms, and Mould’s unmistakable blend of power and vulnerability.  The song captures everything that made Copper Blue such a compelling record.

The band — especially Mould — had modest expectations for commercial success. Instead, Sugar quickly found an audience far larger than anyone anticipated. Within a couple of years they were playing arenas.  Mould often remarked that Sugar became the most commercially successful project of his career.

The Sugar story is told in the short documentary Changes: The Story of Sugar, which is currently streaming on YouTube.  At just 21 minutes long, it is well worth your time.

And for fans of The Daily Show, there’s one more bit of Mould trivia: his song “Dog on Fire” serves as the show’s theme song.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – I’m Only Sleeping, The Beatles; Visions of Johanna, Bob Dylan

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Sixty years ago, two of the most groundbreaking and important albums in the history of rock and roll were released within weeks of each other: Revolver by The Beatles and Blonde on Blonde by Bob Dylan. Both albums are frequently cited as their creators’ finest work, and both represented the culmination of remarkable artistic evolution.

In Rolling Stone’s most recent list of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time, Revolver ranks at #11 and Blonde on Blonde at #36.

To mark this anniversary, let’s focus on one song from each album that explores the world of dreams and altered consciousness.

John Lennon’s “I’m Only Sleeping” celebrates the simple pleasure of staying in bed and letting the world drift by.  To mirror this dreamlike state musically, engineer Geoff Emerick recorded George Harrison’s dual guitar solos and then manually reversed the tape, creating an ethereal, melting soundscape unlike anything heard in pop music at the time.

In Tell Me Why: The Beatles — Album by Album, Song by Song, the Sixties and After, author Tim Riley writes:

“I’m Only Sleeping captures the bleary-eyed mood of returning to consciousness after a midday nap, and everything about the song is drugged with weariness, from the laid-back drumbeat to the yawning bass solo at the end of each refrain.”

Dylan’s “Visions of Johanna” (originally titled “Freeze Out”) is one of his greatest artistic achievements.  The entire song unfolds in a quiet, claustrophobic room during the early morning hours.  Its lyrics flow like a drug-fueled stream of consciousness in which time seems suspended.

“The ghost of ’lectricity howls in the bones of her face.”

“Inside the museums, infinity goes up on trial”

The song captures the heightened sensory distortions of a pre-dawn comedown, where memories, desires, and hallucinations blur together.

Wikipedia cites the perspective of music critic and Dylan biographer Robert Shelton:

“…Dylan’s technique of throwing out ‘skittering images’ evokes ‘a mind floating downstream’; these ‘non-sequential visions’ are the record of a fractured consciousness.”

Both songs invite listeners into dream states, but from opposite directions.  Lennon finds comfort in retreating from the waking world, while Dylan wanders through a restless landscape where reality and imagination become indistinguishable.

It is difficult to imagine two more consequential albums being released within six weeks of each other.  Sixty years later, Revolver and Blonde on Blonde remain towering achievements — not only because they expanded the possibilities of rock music, but because they continue to illuminate the strange and fascinating terrain of the human mind.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – The Passenger, Iggy Pop

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I’ve always been a fan of Anthony Bourdain.  I read his 2000 memoir, Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly.  I watched his television series, Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown.  I even own a couple of his cookbooks (I love his recipe for French onion soup), and we both favor a classic Negroni as our cocktail of choice.  So I was excited to learn that a Bourdain biopic, Tony, co-written and directed by Matt Johnson, has been receiving positive reviews from critics.

The film opened in select U.S. theaters yesterday and will expand to nationwide release on August 21.

News of the movie reminded me of my favorite use of music in Parts Unknown.  In Season 5, Episode 2 (“Miami”), Iggy Pop’s “The Passenger” plays in the background during a beachside conversation between the two men.

Bourdain felt a close kinship with Pop, drawn to their shared anti-establishment attitudes and rebellious personalities.  Although Bourdain interviewed countless celebrities throughout his career, he was rarely starstruck — except when it came to Iggy Pop.  In his field notes for the show, Bourdain wrote:

“It was a dream come true to actually hang out with my hero and (for better or worse) early role model for the filming of the Miami episode of Parts Unknown.”

More importantly, “The Passenger” perfectly reflects Bourdain’s worldview, travel philosophy, and complex psyche, both musically and lyrically.

“I am a passenger / And I ride and I ride”

Bourdain famously rejected labels such as “journalist” or “expert.”  Instead, he saw himself as a witness — a passenger moving through other people’s worlds.  His approach was built on listening, observing, and experiencing cultures on their own terms rather than imposing his own perspective.  Like the song’s narrator, he was content to look out the window and take it all in.

“He sees the stars come out tonight / He sees the city’s ripped backsides”

There is a persistent undercurrent of melancholy and detachment running through the song. Despite having a job that millions envied — one that allowed him to travel the world and experience its many wonders — Bourdain often wrestled with loneliness and existential fatigue.  He was constantly surrounded by people, yet frequently seemed to view himself as an outsider looking in through a pane of glass.

“So let’s ride and ride and ride and ride”

Bourdain maintained a relentless travel schedule, spending nearly 250 days a year on the road filming. The song captures that sense of perpetual motion — the feeling that there is always another destination, another story, another meal waiting around the corner.  For Bourdain, the journey itself became the destination, and movement was both a calling and, perhaps, a necessity.

As audiences discover — or rediscover — Bourdain through Tony, “The Passenger” endures as his unofficial theme song: equal parts wanderlust, loneliness, curiosity, and the perpetual search for what lies just beyond the horizon.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – What A Way To End It All, Deaf School

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Back in 1978, a copy of English Boys/Working Girls by the British band Deaf School arrived at WZBC, where I was a DJ at the time. It was the height of the punk rock revolution.  I gave the album a listen and found it bafflingly out of step with the moment.  It wasn’t quite punk, but it wasn’t anything else I could easily identify either. So where exactly did it belong?

I recently read an article about Deaf School in MOJO magazine (#395) and was surprised to learn that English Boys/Working Girls was actually the band’s third album, not their debut as I had assumed all these years.

MOJO awarded Deaf School’s first album, 2nd Honeymoon, released 50 years ago this month, a five-star review.  Their synopsis, written by Fergal Kinney, read:

Though those who caught Deaf School around this time swear that this album never quite captured their dazzle, 2nd Honeymoon endures as a truly sparkling English pop record: consistently surprising, tight as a vice, and abundant with hooks, wit and often dramatic arrangements. Their biggest splash.

That was enough to send me searching for the album.  I wasn’t disappointed.  This set from the Liverpool Art College collective takes elements of Kurt Weill, the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, and — remarkably, given that they would not appear for several more years — the sort of theatrical Latin-pop exuberance later associated with Kid Creole and the Coconuts, blending them into something entirely distinctive.

Take the opening track, “What A Way To End It All.”  A song about suicide (“Goodbye cruel world and cheerio / Through all this time I’ve got to / What a way to end it all”) is set to jaunty music-hall cabaret.  The song’s sardonic black humor collides with its buoyant melody, producing a result that is both unsettling and irresistible.

I was also surprised to discover “What A Way To End It All” was included on the 1978 Warner Brothers “Loss Leaders” sampler, Limo.

The album is packed with similar delights.  “Where’s the Weekend?”, “Bigger Splash”, “Knock Knock Knocking”, and “Hi Jo Hi” are all overflowing with memorable hooks, clever arrangements, and the band’s wonderfully eccentric sense of fun.

Fifty years after its release, 2nd Honeymoon remains a dazzling, inventive record that sounds unlike anything else before or since.  If you’ve never heard Deaf School, run to your favorite streaming service and give this criminally overlooked album a spin.  You won’t regret it.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Little Sister / Get Back, Elvis Presley

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I was recently on a cross-country JetBlue flight and had time to watch a movie.  I selected EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert, a documentary directed by Baz Luhrmann that was released in the United States in February 2026.  The film draws heavily from previously unseen footage of Presley during his various Las Vegas residencies in the 1970s.

When I started the movie, I was a little apprehensive about what I was about to see. I’ve always preferred 1950s rocker Elvis — and even the movie-star Elvis of the 1960s in films like Jailhouse Rock, King Creole, and Viva Las Vegas — to the bloated Las Vegas caricature that has come to define his final decade.  But Luhrmann’s film presents Elvis in a very different light.  The footage shows him as charming, funny, and fully engaged with his audience, while the musical performances are often electrifying.  Take, for instance, his spirited medley of “Little Sister” and the Beatles’ “Get Back,” which demonstrates just how much energy and charisma he still possessed.

Some viewers may argue that the film is a whitewash that fails to present the full picture of Elvis’s declining health and personal struggles during this period.  In fact, as noted on Wikipedia, The Guardian’s Radheyan Simonpillai praised the concert sequences while criticizing Luhrmann’s “refusal … to meaningfully hold Elvis to account.”

I don’t care.  I enjoyed the movie and was delighted to encounter a perspective that challenged my long-held belief that ‘70s Elvis was merely an overweight, drugged-out squanderer of his immense talent.  EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert reminded me that even during his final years, Elvis Presley remained a captivating performer capable of commanding a stage like few others.  See the movie and form your own opinion.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Riptides, Death Cab for Cutie

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Death Cab for Cutie emerged from the Pacific Northwest in 1997 as the brainchild of singer-songwriter Ben Gibbard.  The band released its debut album the following year and, last month, unveiled its eleventh studio effort. I’ve been listening to the new record regularly and have come to appreciate it more with each spin.

When Death Cab first appeared, they were often grouped with the late-’90s and early-2000s indie bands that filled my CD player.  I gave their music a fair hearing, but at the time I found their music a bit too steeped in Emo sensibilities for my taste.

The new album, I Built You a Tower, is the band’s first since Gibbard’s divorce.  While the breakup is never addressed directly, feelings of heartache, loss, and emotional dislocation run through much of the record.

Nowhere is that more evident than on the standout track, “Riptides.

From the opening lines, Gibbard conveys a profound sense of sorrow and exhaustion, capturing the feeling of someone struggling to stay afloat after a life-altering upheaval.

These days I say goodbye without opening my mouth
I just stare into the distance ’til you figure it out
‘Cause I feel as invested as a border guard
Who’s seen too many people leaving to take it too hard

I’m too tired to talk, I’m too tired to end the war
And I can’t seem to hold it together anymore

Yet despite its heavy lyrical themes, the music never wallows in despair.  Gibbard wraps his emotional reflections in bright, melodic indie pop, creating a tension between sound and subject matter that gives the songs much of their power.

Elsewhere on the album, Gibbard explores heartbreak, aging, and change with a maturity that avoids both self-pity and regret.  Rather than dwelling on loss, the songs seek understanding and acceptance.  As a result, I Built You a Tower feels less like a breakup album than a thoughtful meditation on life’s transitions. It’s a fully realized work that rewards repeated listening.

Gibbard has joked that, had he known his band would achieve lasting success, he would have chosen a better name.  Ironically, it was the name itself that first caught my attention. I recognized it as the title of a song by the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, who in turn borrowed it from an old pulp-fiction crime magazine.  Whatever its origins, Death Cab for Cutie has long since transcended its quirky moniker, and I Built You a Tower stands as further proof that the band still has plenty to say nearly three decades into its career.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Love Like a Man, Ten Years After

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The British blues-rockers Ten Years After were largely unknown in the United States until the release of the Woodstock film in March 1970 and the accompanying triple album two months later.  The band’s electrifying nine-minute performance of “I’m Going Home,” driven by the lightning-fast guitar work of lead guitarist Alvin Lee, captured the imagination of American audiences and transformed the group from a cult attraction into a major concert draw.

The band quickly capitalized on that momentum with the release of its fourth studio album, Cricklewood Green, in April 1970.  While the title sounds like a pastoral English village, it was actually a tongue-in-cheek reference to some homegrown marijuana cultivated by one of the band’s roadies.  A native of the northwest London district of Cricklewood, he was known for producing particularly potent — if somewhat green — weed.

Among the album’s highlights was “Love Like a Man,” a track that stretched beyond seven minutes on the LP but was edited down to about three minutes for single release.  The single was unusual for another reason as well: the B-side featured a live version of the same song, pressed at 33⅓ RPM rather than the standard 45 RPM for a seven-inch single.

“Love Like a Man” opens with one of those irresistible hooks that feels instantly familiar, as if you’ve known it for years even when hearing it for the first time.  The song settles into a deep, infectious groove that will have you head-bobbing before giving way to an extended instrumental passage.  Lee’s rapid-fire, jazz-inflected soloing takes center stage, but the performance never loses sight of the song itself.  The interplay between the rhythm section and Lee’s fluid guitar lines creates a sense of momentum that keeps the track engaging throughout its seven-minute running time.

More than fifty years later, “Love Like a Man” remains an excellent reminder of why Alvin Lee became one of the first guitar heroes of the post-Woodstock era.  While his astonishing speed often grabbed the headlines, the song reveals the qualities that made him special: a strong sense of melody, impeccable feel, and the ability to serve the song rather than simply show off.  It’s a performance that proves Lee was far more than a fast guitarist — he was a musician who could make virtuosity sound effortless and fun.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – American Music, The Blasters

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Happy 250th Independence Day!

What better way to celebrate than with some good old American music?  And by that, I mean “American Music” by the Blasters — two minutes of straight-ahead, American Graffiti-style rock ’n’ roll.

The Blasters were led by songwriter, guitarist, and vocalist Dave Alvin, along with his brother Phil.  Dave would later spend time with X and the Knitters, but the Blasters remained his most enduring musical vehicle.

Their debut album, also titled American Music, was released in 1980 on the independent Rollin’ Rock label.  It was a master class in American roots music, blending rockabilly, blues, country, jazz, swing, R&B, and early rock ’n’ roll into a sound that felt both timeless and fresh.  Think of it as the next link in a chain stretching from Elvis Presley and Chuck Berry to Creedence Clearwater Revival.  The album included the version of “American Music” featured here.  (It was recorded for their critically acclaimed, self-titled, second album.)

So fire up the grill, grab a hot dog, an ice cream cone, and a few sparklers, and celebrate America’s 250th birthday with “American Music,” a song that captures the spirit of the day as perfectly as its title.

Enjoy… until next week.

Song of the Week – Hitsville UK, The Clash; You Can’t Hurry Love, The Supremes

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In 1980, the Clash released their highly ambitious triple album, Sandinista!.  The second single from the album was “Hitsville UK,” a duet between lead guitarist Mick Jones and his then-girlfriend, Ellen Foley, who was best known for her performance with Meat Loaf on the Bat Out of Hell classic “Paradise by the Dashboard Light.”

“Hitsville UK” is a nod to Motown — whose famous slogan was “Hitsville U.S.A.” — in more ways than just its title.  Lyrically, the song compares the late-’70s and early-’80s British independent music scene to Motown’s early days — a DIY culture built on creativity and determination rather than deference to major record labels that too often exploited the artists they signed.

No slimy deals, with smarmy eels – in hitsville U.K.
Lets shake’n say, we’ll operate – in hitsville U.K.
The mutants, creeps and musclemen,
Are shaking like a leaf,
It blows a hole in the radio,
When it hasnt sounded good all week,
A mike’n boom, in your living room – in hitsville U.K.
No consumer trials, or A.O.R., in hitsville U.K.,
Now the boys and girls are not alone,
Now the hitsville’s hit U.K.

The tribute extends beyond the lyrics. Musically, “Hitsville UK” borrows heavily from the Motown sound, particularly the Supremes’ 1966 hit “You Can’t Hurry Love.”

The song opens with a Morse-code-like walking bass line that bears a striking resemblance to the one driving “You Can’t Hurry Love.”  Both songs employ the classic four-on-the-floor snare pattern, accented by swinging eighth notes that lock tightly with the bass groove.  And then there’s the tambourine.  Motown productions were famous for their prominent use of tambourine, and “You Can’t Hurry Love” is a prime example.  “Hitsville UK” mirrors that approach, using a bright, crisp tambourine to emphasize the upbeat and add propulsion to the rhythm.

The Clash weren’t the only British band to draw inspiration from Motown.  In 1982, the Jam scored a hit with “A Town Called Malice,” another song that successfully adapted Motown’s driving rhythms and melodic sensibilities to a distinctly British setting.

What makes “Hitsville UK” particularly effective, however, is that the Clash didn’t borrow the Motown sound simply as an exercise in nostalgia.  They used it to reinforce the song’s message.  Just as Motown had once created opportunities for young artists outside the established music industry, the burgeoning UK indie scene was carving out its own path.  By wrapping that message in a musical style inspired by Motown’s golden era, the Clash created a song that celebrates both the sound and the spirit of musical independence.

Enjoy… until next week.