I bet most music fans are probably familiar with the now fairly hackneyed trope of “desert island discs,” the idea being having to choose the limited roster of albums you’d want to have with you if you found yourself stranded on a desert island. You almost can’t help but immediately picture Tom Hanks in the movie “Cast Away,” but instead of seeing FedEx boxes washing ashore containing ice skates and a volleyball that became his best friend Wilson, there are water-borne copies of, say, Dark Side of The Moon and Abbey Road floating in. Exactly how one is supposed to be listening to said albums in these hypothetical circumstances is never discussed. I’m guessing it would be a different small-screen exile, The Professor from Gilligan’s Island, that might be better suited to fashion a usable sound system out of some coconuts and vines.
Nevertheless, after so much time as a fanciful discussion point – the concept of “desert island discs” was apparently first introduced in a 1942 BBC radio broadcast entitled with that same name – it now seems a bit stale and overdone. And, frankly, too easy. Pick something from a whole slew of different genres? – a bunch of rock, a little jazz, some blues, soul and R&B, punk, zydeco, maybe even a touch of reggae for that authentic island feel – sure, you’ve got all your moods covered. Anybody could hang out on an uninhabited isle under those sweet conditions.
No, for So Much Great Music’s take on this topic we’re going to have to tighten it up a bit. And here’s how: rather than desert island discs – DIDs – we’re instead going to meditate over desert island bands – DIBs (and yes, I’ve got dibs on this innovative idea). You, and possibly Wilson, are marooned on an island, and you can have the collected recordings of just one artist to listen to for, well, your remaining years (I’m not building a seaworthy craft out of logs and bamboo, for chrissake; if my SOS carved into the sand isn’t detected in a week or so, I’m just settling in).
This bold choice, of course, requires very serious contemplation. Some of my knee-jerk impulses had to be rejected upon further scrutiny. For instance, as much as the Beatles and Stones should be the go-to GOATs of DIBs (patent pending for that phrase), dare I say that by now I’ve almost heard them too much?! I’ll need something still retaining a little novelty to keep things fresh. Zeppelin or Skynyrd? That’s probably going to be too intense for the chill island state of mind. James Taylor or Carole King? I fear long-term listening could get overly melancholy, and I can’t afford to become depressed in this environment. Springsteen? Honestly, I don’t think I want to be inspired only to wake up in the same damn place day after day anyway.
This has to be fully thought out. I’d want a decent sized catalog, so as not to become unduly bored. But what if it’s too big? I think there’s cause for a degree of repetition; some sense of structure will probably be best to help keep my tenuous sanity.
What’s really needed for this situation, it seems to me, is the perfect combination of disparate elements, the mix and range of sonic potential. Something that can be breezingly pleasant yet at times laceratingly sharp. Engaging then biting. To wit, the chocolate-covered pretzels of bands (on a related note, Flipz are the world’s greatest chocolate-covered pretzels, and would be my choice of DIF – desert island food). Why yes, of course, it’s the sweet and the savory.
So what band’s got that taste? In my mind, one sprung immediately to the fore (though I’d hazard that the same will likely occur to few of you), due in large part to a snappy quote that’s always stuck with me. Describing his own band, decades ago, co-founder Gary Louris memorably (at least to me) said:
“We’re like folk music, but really loud.”
Ready? They’re The Jayhawks, alt-country almost-stars originating out of Minneapolis, MN in the early ‘90’s, regularly experiencing a bit of band turmoil and turnover, often overlooked in favor of less worthy stablemates, always finding true breakthrough just out of reach, but for forever one of my absolute all-time favorite groups. And now, all-importantly, my esteemed selection for Desert Island Band.
So, to the lesser- or perhaps un-initiated, who and what are The Jayhawks? Even the above quote, though concisely cunning, fails to fully capture their musical essence. The liner notes (remember those?) on their paragon album, Tomorrow the Green Grass, provide a nice starting point. There it reads: The Jayhawks “…act like country-tinged rock and roll, with an intellectual attitude and shit-kicking ambience.” Their influences would include genre-shapers like Gram Parsons and The Band. And their sound – my god, that sound – probably most closely spans geniuses such as The Byrds and Neil Young. Scant few have ever approximated the feverish fuzz and craggy feedback Young was able to fabricate in his guitar tone; Brian Henneman of The Bottle Rockets is one, and Gary Louris of The Jayhawks is another.
Still, vocals would be their calling-card. Much of the singing is done in two-part harmony between Louris and Mark Olson. But not in the smooth, synching manner of the Everly Brothers or Simon & Garfunkel. Louris and Olson’s voices attach as they swing and swirl around each other, adding flourishes, beautiful quirky imperfections, and a gripping sense of yearning desperation. Yet oddly, this singing, as well as songwriting, partnership has been only sporadic. The Louris/Olson pairing existed only for three band albums: Hollywood Town Hall (1992), the aforementioned Tomorrow the Green Grass (1995), and then following a substantial hiatus during which Louris exclusively helmed the forefront and other members shifted in and out, Mockingbird Time (2011).
To me, it’s those first two, Hollywood Town Hall and Tomorrow the Green Grass, that form the nucleus of their 11-album total discography, and are the heart of the gracefully uneven sound I trust will best keep me company in my many moods of solitude. If there was a most recognizable hit among their work it would be ‘Waiting For The Sun,’ the lead track from Hollywood Town Hall, produced on Rick Rubin’s Def American label and for a time in legit FM-radio and MTV-rotation. And if there were a signature tune beyond that I would go with the opener from the subsequent album, ‘Blue,’ which is, frankly, just about as perfect of a song as I know. It’s also the recording that got me to stop using earbuds in public. There I was, headed to work on NYC’s Shuttle subway early one morning, eyes closed and lost in The Jayhawks harmonizing, when I unwittingly began belting out the chorus – “So bluuuuue / Why don’t you stay behiiind?” – entirely oblivious to my surroundings, only to rouse hearing the announcement for our Times Square station arrival and immediately feel the cold, disapproving stares of a throng of grouchy New Yorkers who may not yet have had their coffee.
Are The Jayhawks grossly underrated and sadly underappreciated? I don’t know, sure. But those are trite terms roughly on par with “desert island discs.” Besides, that wasn’t even the point of this exercise anyway. What I do know is that every one of their albums is incredibly good, rich with multi-toned aural textures, and that there are not really even any weak songs. At least my sweet and savory superstars won’t be unacknowledged and undervalued when I have them with me, alone together, as my trusty desert island band. I just hope I can get the stereo to work.
*Anyone else intrigued at all by the concept? Feel free to comment back and offer up who your Desert Island Band would be, and why. Choose wisely.*
Finally, in addition to their “hit” (above), here’s a wider Jayhawks sampler on the all-new SMGM playlist, “Sweet and Savory: The Jayhawks” (can anybody pick out the one unlikely cover of Grand Funk Railroad?)
Lili Free
January 25, 2025 1:46 pmI’m so ashamed I don’t know the Jayhawks. Thanks for steering me in their direction. I hope they know they were chosen! Mine would have to be Steely Dan. There’s no bad song. And it would give me time to learn all the lyrics properly!
So Much Great Music
January 25, 2025 3:16 pmNo shame needed, of course, and I hope you like them if you have a listen. And Steely Dan is an outstanding choice, although even a lifetime on the island may not be long enough to learn all those lyrics!
D Wesley W
January 27, 2025 6:27 amNever heard of them. Listened to a number of their cuts. Can hear why you like them. Picked up all kinds of influences, including Damien Rice, Mumford, S and G, The Band, Counting Crowes. If they came out when we were growing up, I wouldn’t be surprised. They feel mainly 1990s/2000s. On a deserted island, I can see why positive vibes are important. So, enjoy them and your pretzels. Hopefully you can tune in to Mets highlights there. For me, you’re right, melancholy will kill you, so no Genesis. Joni? Are we allowed artists? Yes (the band)? Hmmm. I’m gonna go with your positive vibes approach and pick Feats. Little Feat’s catalogue is pretty much unparalleled. Up to Let it Roll, genuinely not a bad cut. Just simply never tires. Wilson!!!!!!!