The mystery of 'South Detroit'

I think I've been pretty open about my love for Journey in recent months on this blog. Most people who know me how much I've loved that band since childhood. Of course, that means the anthem of my life has been "Don't Stop Believin'."

I always dug that there was a line about "South Detroit" in that song. Hey, they're singing about my city! (Well, so to speak; I grew up in Ann Arbor.) 

But now the song is a stadium anthem, played virtually everywhere — including Michigan Stadium, which I still can't quite abide — and the "born and raised in South Detroit" line always gets a shout-out from local sports fans. 

In recent years, however, that particular lyric has been dissected by metro Detroiters. Where exactly is "South Detroit"? Because it's not a part of the city anyone is familiar with, nor could find on a map.

"South Detroit" has also taken on life as a Twitter meme, thanks largely to Detroit Tigers beat writers, local sports reporters and fans on Twitter. (I'm looking at you, @matthewbmowery and @stareagle.) Not only was it a fictional neighborhood, but through Twitter, "South Detroit" practically became an alternate universe where magical things happened.

During a Tigers game, a ball that an opposing hitter would hit into the gap would be a great catch by center fielder Austin Jackson in "South Detroit." Instead of striking out on an eye-high fastball, third baseman Brandon Inge would get a base hit in "South Detroit." And so on. Maybe beer prices at the concession stands were cheaper, too. Whatever beautiful thing you could imagine. 

It was amusing. And will probably continue to be this spring and summer. But I never really jumped on with the uproar over the non-existence of a "South Detroit." It sounded fine to me. I still thought of it as a shout-out to a city I was familiar with in one of my all-time favorite songs. 

But for those who needed answers, Peter Hyman did what writers (reporters?) should do: Go to the source and find out the truth. In a post for NY Mag's Vulture, Hyman contacted former Journey lead singer Steve Perry to ask him about "South Detroit." Did he realize no such location existed? Was it a faux-pas from an out-of-towner? Or did he take artistic license for the sake of a good song lyric? 

Perry explained that he came up with the lyric while staring out of his hotel window during a 1980 five-night stand in Detroit. (Oh, if only such things happened anymore with rock tours.) The city was on his mind, so he put it in "Don't Stop Believin'." And yes, "South Detroit" just sounded right.

“I ran the phonetics of east, west, and north, but nothing sounded as good or emotionally true to me as South Detroit,” he says. “The syntax just sounded right. I fell in love with the line. It’s only been in the last few years that I’ve learned that there is no South Detroit. But it doesn’t matter.”

Of course, he's exactly right. It doesn't matter.

Well, except maybe it does. Because the question of "South Detroit" has helped give the song continued life among music fans, sports fans and metro Detroit residents alike. Its popularity and resonance never ends. It goes on and on and on and on...

'Are you making more movies with that orangutan then? Those were brilliant.'

Clint Eastwood chatting with P.J. Harvey. Wouldn't you love to have heard some of this conversation?

I suppose there's also a chance the conversation lasted approximately 30 seconds.

Harvey scoring an Eastwood film would be pretty cool, though. Worlds colliding would make me giddy.

(via Awesome People Hanging Out Together)

Random thoughts on R.E.M.

Could you navigate the internet on Wednesday without encountering a story about R.E.M. "calling it a day" as a band? Virtually every site I like to frequent wrote some sort of eulogy or tribute today, trying to capture in a few hundred words just how important the band was.

As is usually the case, I don't think such things can be conveyed through words. You had to live through it. You had to listen when R.E.M. was played on the radio, you had to listen to their albums, you had to feel those songs, you had to watch them interact with the culture at large.

That's not to say anyone can't appreciate R.E.M. by listening to their music. Obviously, that's their legacy.

No other band sounded like R.E.M. (I've seen the word "jangly" thrown around a lot.) You could recognize one of their songs within the first couple of notes, even before Michael Stipe began singing. Crafting such a distinct sound is not something that many bands can accomplish. I don't think there can be a better testament to their greatness.

Rather than try and sum up how important R.E.M. has been to me and the people in my life, I figured I'd just post the various random thoughts that have swirled around my head in the hours since the announcement was made.

• After the news broke, I spent hours trying to determine what my favorite R.E.M. song is. There shouldn't be any thought to it, right? It's whatever comes into your head first. Not that simple with R.E.M. It's not just that they composed so many great songs. But certain songs get associated with moments or feelings.

Would I call "Everybody Hurts" my favorite? No, but it's a song I love driving to. And yes, I put it on when I'm feeling down, as cliched as that might be.

"Nightswimming" got me through so many late-night writing efforts in school. It just shut out all the surrounding noise and helped me focus. Actually, maybe the whole "Automatic For the People" album had that effect on me.

But gun to the head, choose one song, I think I'd go with "Finest Worksong."

I'm sure I'll want to edit this and choose another song as soon as I click publish.

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• However, I love "What's the Frequency, Kenneth?" It doesn't sound like a R.E.M. song, but felt like Peter Buck said, "Enough of these fuckin' mandolins — let's rock." Any time a band wants to break out the loud guitars, I'm usually sucked in.

I've always gotten the impression that "Monster" was one of R.E.M.'s least popular albums among longtime fans because it was so different, but not for me. It's just a good rock record. "Crush With Eyeliner," "Bang and Blame," and "Strange Currencies" are each among my favorite songs.

• During my freshman year of college, we spent way too much time trying to get "It's the End of the World As We Know It" on our answering machine. To this day, when I hear the words "feelin' pretty psyched," I think it's our cue to hit the record button.

• Is "Me in Honey" an underrated R.E.M. song? I feel like it is. One of my favorites. Love the guitar.

• I only saw R.E.M. once in concert. It was during the "Monster" tour. My sister and I couldn't get seats together, and sat on different sides of The Palace of Auburn Hills. I was in the absolute last row of my section and could lean back against the wall of the upper deck.

(Here's the setlist for the show, thanks to a website I didn't know existed until today. I will surely be wasting many afternoons to come, looking up old concerts I went to.)

I struck up a conversation with a couple who had seen the band six times, all around the country. Listening to their stories, I didn't envy them seeing R.E.M. so often as much as I wished I'd seen them perform in a far smaller venue. A different tour ("Document"? "Out of Time"?) might have been cool too, though I've already expressed my love for "Monster."

• It kind of breaks my heart to say this, but it's also stating the obvious: R.E.M. was never the same band once Bill Berry left. None of the five albums the band released since his exit was that memorable. ("Around the Sun" may have been the most promising.) I can't name one song from those records off the top of my head.

As much as I love R.E.M., I just couldn't get excited about their last two albums. (Being let down by bands and musicians I loved in recent years has contributed to my apathy toward new music these days.) In fact, I don't think I even purchased their latest, "Collapse Into Now." I probably will now. And I'll give those previous four records another chance.

• How many bands would've tried to milk this for a farewell tour? Maybe fewer than I think. But with so many groups reuniting for the money while cashing in on nostalgia, I think it's pretty notable that R.E.M. chose to go out with a quiet bow. (Although Buck and Mike Mills were both outspoken about not enjoying the grind of a long tour.)

Would I have liked to see a farewell tour? Yeah, probably. It would've been nice to say goodbye and hear some of those songs live one more time.

Should we make any guesses as to when we'll see a reunion tour? Or when those rumors will begin?

This was not Journey's finest moment

Just to prove (if only to myself) that I can be objective about Journey (in light of my last post), I will now make fun of them for quite possibly one of the silliest music videos ever made.

The year was 1983, the song was "Separate Ways." 

It was another big hit for Journey, despite a video in which the band is often depicted playing invisible instruments.

How did the discussion with the director go for this one?

Director: So what I'm thinking is we shoot some scenes with you guys playing invisible instruments.

Journey: What?

Director: Yeah, it'll be cool. Because this is a song about a, uh, failed relationship, right? I read the lyrics. So your instruments are like that girl that's gone now.

Journey: So we're just pretending to play guitars, drums and keyboards?

Director: Oh, and you'll be stalking some chick in heels and a leather skirt with massive hair. All takes place on a wharf.

Journey. [...]

Director: Trust me. This will rock. You don't see Foreigner doing this shit.

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Jonathan Cain was even asked to play a keyboard mounted on a wall. Who would ever play that way? (Of course, that still isn't as dumb as a Keytar.)

Another classic moment is when Steve Perry is walking backwards between stacks of pallets, looking behind himself to make sure he doesn't run into or fall over something. (Look anguished, Steve! The pallets are the obstacles in love!)

They had to have filmed this thing on a Sunday when no workers were around on the wharf. Not only would there have been major laughter, but you would've had pantomiming musicians getting in the way of actual blue-collar work being done. ("Hey Elvis, you gonna be done soon? We gotta forklift those pallets.")

Okay, enough snark and screen caps. Here's the video:

That's right: 'Don't Stop Believin'' is 30 years old

If you missed CBS' "Sunday Morning" last weekend (and I'm betting you did, since I'm the only one in my age group I know who watches it — hey, I'm up early writing The Juice for Big League Stew), the last show had a feature on the 30th anniversary of Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'."

As if I didn't already feel old being up so early on a Sunday morning. I knew I was in grade school when that song came out. It was one of the first videos I remember watching on MTV. But there it is. 30 years.

UPDATE: The video isn't embedding, so here's a link to the feature.

The elephant in the room that report glosses over, of course, is that original lead singer Steve Perry isn't with Journey anymore. But that was probably too convoluted to address. Besides, the guys who wrote the song — including guitarist Neal Schon, whose opening riff and later solo almost always stop me in my tracks — are still in the band. And the new singer, Arnel Pineda, is such a great story. He should be a sequel to "Rock Star."

Nowadays, "Don't Stop Believin'" is one of those songs you hear everywhere. It's played at all kinds of sporting events, including Red Wings games and even Michigan football games now. (I'm curious to see if Brady Hoke puts the kibosh on piped-in music at Michigan Stadium this season.) We love that "South Detroit" line. 

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It was in the final scene of "The Sopranos." It played over the post-credits scene (oh, and this one too) of "The Losers" (if you didn't see that movie). "Glee" made it big with the kids again. (I hadn't heard this version until creating that link for this post. Ugh.)

The song has become cool again. Which drives me kind of crazy, because I took a lot of shit for liking Journey through junior high school, high school, college and a good chunk of my twenties. Where the hell were you people when I was blasting "Escape" on my stereo and in my car? We could've been great friends, I'm sure. Some of us always thought "Don't Stop Believin'" was cool. (Or maybe it was me, not the Journey.)

But hey, that's great. It's obviously become a timeless song, a classic anthem that everyone enjoys now.

I believe this is the original video that played on MTV. As a little kid, I wanted to play on Steve Smith's drum set so badly.

Musical Regression or Getting Back in Touch with My Youth

I don't know if this speaks to some psychological need to get back to a time when life seemed simpler and more care-free, or I just got bored listening to the same music while working out or doing yard work, but the music on my "workout" iPod (I have two: a "Nano" - 1st generation - and a "Classic") has somehow morphed into the Walkman I used to lug around while delivering newspapers as a kid.

There was already some bad hair metal on that Nano, most of which is just too embarrassing to mention here.  (Hey, it gets me going.)  But over the past few weeks, bands like Van Halen, AC/DC, Aerosmith, Bob Seger, and Journey - all the stuff that I listened to before experiencing musical enlightenment in the early 90's - have taken up more of the roughly 225 songs on the playlist (sharing flash drive space with podcasts).  I don't know what the hell happened.

I joked on Twitter that I figured out the meaning of Van Halen's "Poundcake" during this weekend's massive leaf-raking project.  (I think it's about sex.)  But "Finish What You Started" is the song I can't get out of my head.  Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me something.  Or I just can't shake Eddie Van Halen's guitar. 

Here's the video.  (From 1988?)  The women are... unfortunate.  But they disappear about a third of the way through, as if the band realized they were stupid, too.  Or maybe Alex Van Halen scared them off with his predatory look.  (I wanted to be Alex Van Halen until approximately the age of 13.  The drums aren't particularly notable in this song, though.)