Ten Years Gone

If someone asked me what contemplation sounds like, I would play Led Zeppelin's "Ten Years Gone."   The opening bars of the song cause me to stop what I'm doing and reflect.  That theme resonates through the song.

There is beautiful music, and with it some emotional lyrics.  This song again is about relationships; this one, of love lost, and love powerful enough to remind bring to mind ten years later the bonds that existed.

This song is layers deep with guitar. There are different voices; acoustic played alone, which  to me represents the first thoughts that the singer has; the first train of thought that starts a flood of thoughts about his lost love.  As additional voices join in, it's the other thoughts and tracks that branch out from the first.  Each voice with it's own independence, and when joined together form a beautiful harmony.  The thoughts don't ever stop; they keep going. There's not a natural break or stop of a chorus and return to a verse section in this song. It continues to flow.

The  money line comes in the middle  of the song.  These lines cause my chest to tighten up; my breathing stops; I can feel my heart drumming it's beat against my sternum.

Did you ever really need somebody, and really need 'em bad?

Did you ever really want somebody, the best love you ever had?

Have you? Have you felt that?  Have you felt a love so intense that your very existence seems to be in the balance?   This is a love that is beyond the Ward & June Cleaver type of love.  This is a type where you see a look across a room from your lover you know is meant only for you.  The look of devotion, respect, trust.  Love. The smile that forms not because of something someone else said, but because You Just Know that you are loved in a way that nobody has loved you Before, or Ever Will Again.  A touch on your arm as Love passes by that electrifies your entire body. 

I have written this month about listening to Led Zeppelin, and the happy thoughts and sad thoughts, or other memories and feelings that particular songs raise in me.    "Ten Years Gone" evokes all manner of emotions - happyness, sadness, love, fun times, passion - in one song. 

Of all the songs in the catalog, this one is my favorite.  It is perfection.

Thank You

Love is that beautiful of all things.  True love, built on mutual respect, trust, admiration and sacrifice can go on forever. It can withstand the tests of time that naturally occur.  This is the love that Led Zeppelin speak of in "Thank  You."

If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you.

If mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me.

These lines are so powerful, they are used to open the song, and again to close it.    In this song, they stop in the midst of the pure power the second album projects to slow down the pace, turn down the volume and send across a simple message: I Love You.

The love he speaks of is simple, pure love. Pure devotion.  Simple, unconditional love.  How love can be; the ideal.  Love that is not complicated by financial or parenting or work issues.  It's not a false feeling, or taken for granted.  Love transcends the wrongs, the rough spots, and endures forever. 

The Rain Song

I have a degree in teaching mathematics.  To earn the degree, I had to take a bunch of education classes, but also earn the equivalent of a math degree, which meant learning all number of mathematical terms.  One term is in the title of the blog: quotient.

A quotient is the result of a division problem.  The quotient is determined by seeing how many times a number, the divisor, can divide into the other number, which is called the dividend.   So, in the example 8 divided by 2, 8 is the dividend, 2 is the divisor, and the quotient is 4.

The title of this blog derives (another math term!) itself from a line in Led Zeppelin's "The Rain Song." 

This is the mystery of the quotient

Upon us all, a little rain must fall

"The Rain Song" is a beautiful song, and one of my favorites by Led Zeppelin.  The beautiful music, accompanied by beautiful words, describing that of different seasons or phases of a relationship.  Spring: new love; Summer: hot, fiery love; Coldness of the winter: hurt and rejection.  

Tis song is filled with emotion.  When he speaks at the end of the song of the mystery of the quotient, he speaks to me of the results revealed by division, or separation.   

When I was going through the separation with my then wife, I had a realization one morning that this may not be as bad as I was making it out to be.  I was at church and my pastor was speaking about the creation view presented in the Bible, where God formed the earth.  The first things that he did was separate the light from the darkness. Then he separated the water from the land; then separated the land from the sea. 

If the first things he did was separate, then for me, I realized, being in a separation may not be such a bad thing. I was learning about myself; how I tick, the things that were most important to me, what could be considered trivial and not as important as I thought they were.  I realized what a jerk I was being, being selfish and critical and rude and inconsiderate towards others, especially those I knew were most important to me.  I had taken them for granted.

While my division with my then wife was brought the rain fall:  sorrow and sadness,  a lot of good has come from it.  I'm still learning about me; I haven't stopped.  But the rain times, with hindsight, aren't always bad. The rain brings water, which also cleanses, erodes, erases and smooths things out, and  fosters growth. 

Bring It On Home

I met some outstanding people at the University of Minnesota-Duluth.  Some of these guys became my closest friends. One thing we shared was a love for good music.  Dave was a big Stevie Ray Vaughn guy. Jeff loved MetallicA.  I had the Zeppelin thing going.  The other guys liked Zeppelin, just as I like MetallicA and SRV; we just each had our favorites.

Friday and Saturday nights were nights to sit back and relax and party. Parties for us meant beer, wop, friends,  and music.

I don't remember when it exactly it was, but we fell in love listening to "Bring It On Home" for a while. This song starts out with a great harmonica part by Robert Plant and bass by Jones, as a tribute to Sonny Boy Williamson; slow, heavy blues. Plant dropped his voice down and muddies it up a bit with the microphone he used and some effects.

At about the 1:45 point, the harmonica trails off and the Jimmy Page's electric guitar kicks this song into gear.  This is the point we guys went from sitting around with our heads hanging down and listening to stomping our feet and air guitaring. 

This song is always a reminder of those days, those guys, the time we had and how simple life was.  Friday and Saturday night parties.  I'm glad to still have these guys as my friends.

Whole Lotta Love

There's no innuendo in Zeppelin's song "Whole Lotta Love."

You need coolin', baby, I'm not foolin',

I'm gonna send you back to schoolin',

Way down inside honey, you need it,

I'm gonna give you my love,

I'm gonna give you my love.

It has one of the most famous opening guitar riffs ever; a supreme bass line; stellar drumming; and the famous mid-song orgasm.  That last part is because that is all this song is about.

The narrator intends to give his lover his love. A whole lot of it. And it's because it's what he needs, and also what he believes she needs.  A primal desire on the part of both parties.

I believe men and women were put here on the earth to work, have fun, learn, grow, teach, share, and also to love and have sex; after all, it's what makes more children.  It's basic self-preservation. That sex feels great is a side effect. Or, are the kids the side effect?  (That's a great "chicken and egg" debate.)  

Couples date, hold hands, kiss, fool around, and have sex.  Maybe they marry. They have more sex. Maybe have kids.  Some people step outside their marriage for sex because the other partner is not engaging in it at an emotional level or regularity that the other wants.  In countries outside of the United States, this behavior is even accepted as normal.

Sexual intercourse is the ultimate expression of trust, intimacy, and love.  It's a way to comfort a partner. It's a way to ease out frustration.  It's the supreme gift; the gift of one's self to the partner in the most private way. Bare. Exposed.  Sex should not be used to control, coerce, or punish someone.  Nor should the withholding of sex be used to control, coerce, or punish someone. One shouldn't be forced to beg for it; it should be done out of love, respect, and trust with the partner.

Here in "Whole Lotta Love," it's that primal desire to sleep with this woman, be with her, that creates the meaning behind the song. The synergy of the band brings the passion, transforming this song from just words to a spate of emotion that recreates the experience in an auditory way that is only unmatched by the physical act.

Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You

This whole blog doesn't have to be -- and isn't going to be -- all about my divorce.  This month of Zeptember, I'm writing about the songs of Led Zeppelin that impact me and mean something to me, and a little bit of why.  While the blog won't be all about it, my divorce is a fact in my life, and I can't ignore it any more than I can ignore that I have two feet.

Whilst going through the separation and divorce, I hadn't been listening to Zeppelin much. A lot of their songs and the messages and meanings were just not something I wanted or needed to hear then. Today, I want to hear them. I love their music. 

The song "Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You," expresses a lot of the emotion that I felt through different times in the process of separation and divorce.   This song embodies the mastery of Page, Plant, Jones, and Bonham to take emotion and give it a voice.  To give me something that I can share with someone who has no perspective on what I went through.  Not that a song can fully explain it all; it's so much more complex than even this song. However, it's as good a representation as I can think of.

This song starts with a peaceful guitar melody, and the first stanza, then a harder rhythm, a second guitar, drums.  Back to peacefulness, another verse and then more of the heavy, the loudness of the drums.  Bonham is just pounding on those drums; no dynamics tonight.

The guitar work in this song is superb; alternating over and over from the peaceful melody, to the more intense part of the song is indicative of the nature of what goes on during these times:  times of harmony, times of acrimony.  There are two different voices, two different patterns of speech in the guitars as well, clearly representing the viewpoints of the two affected parties.   Plant's voice and desperate wailing are also a perfect representation of the emotion felt by either side, at the pain of one leaving, or being sent away.

The latter part of the song is a cacophony of noise; acoustic guitars, electric guitar, drums, vocals.  So many voices, so many emotions calling out. Yelling, talking, each trying to speak over the other. 

Everyone is talking. Nobody is listening.

A lot more went on than just not listening.  It's more complex than that.  It's just part of what I hear in this song, and it relates to what was going on at that time in my life.

Stairway to Heaven

In 2007, the three living members of Led Zeppelin reunited, along with deceased drummer John Bonham's son, Jason Bonham, to play a concert in London honoring Ahmet Ertegun.  Ertegun was the late founder and president of Atlantic Records, and signed Led Zeppelin to the label in 1968.   The demand for tickets was worldwide, and unprecedented.  A reported 20 million requests were made for 18,000 seats.  Less than 9,000 names were chosen by lottery to have a chance to purchase two tickets to attend the show in person.  Sadly, I was not one of them.

The demand for this show and intimate audience size required the show be recorded.  It was announced a couple weeks ago that the concert movie, "Celebration Day" would be released in theaters on October 17, 2012, followed by DVD, Blu-Ray and CD releases of the concert in November.   Zeppelin fans the world over have begun pre-ordering media and movie tickets in to satisfy our needs to see and hear Zeppelin. 

The other day, there was a press conference with the surviving members of the band, talking about the movie, the concert, Zeppelin in general.  During the press conference, they were asked about Stairway to Heaven.

Where do you stand now with regards to Stairway? Page and Plant had different opinions about it…

Plant: “Well, I struggle with some of the lyrics from particular periods of time. The musicality and the construction of it, you know, is peerless. But maybe I didn’t feel quite the same about the lyrics later on in life, as I got further down the road. Maybe I’m still trying to work out what I was talking about… every other f***** is!” 

So, if Led Zeppelin doesn't know what the song means yet today, how can I?   I know that in this song, like many others, it comes down to a particular couple of lines.

Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run,

There's still time to change the road you're on.

Two paths. There's that whole Robert Frost thing; two roads in the woods, took the one less traveled.  But, sometimes you find you picked the wrong one.  There's no harm in admitting fault, going back and trying the other road. 

I had gone pretty far down a road.  If the two tracks diverged from the fork, I was far away from the other track.  I needed a serious course correction. A lot of what I had done couldn't be undone, so just backing up and picking the other road didn't seem a viable course.  I needed a new road, and I had to make it.  It wasn't exactly simple.  But I had time. 

On Led Zeppelin's concert film and soundtrack, "The Song Remains The Same," the song "Stairway to Heaven" is preceded with Robert Plant saying "This is a song of hope."  I found hope in those two lines.

No Quarter

I spent a month in Cleveland the middle two weeks of January 1997. The company I was working for sold our software to our competitor, in order to focus all of our attention on a single product line.

During this visit to Ohio, I had a Saturday where I didn't go home for the weekend. I hung out in Cleveland, and went to check out the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Museum, and see what else was going on there (not much).   During that visit, I saw costumes worn by the Beatles, guitars played by various artists, a lot of gold records and posters and other memorabilia.  But the one thing that still stands out to me this day is the notebook that James Hetfield used when writing the Metallica album which was released in 1991.  The book was open to the page where he was working out the lyrics to "Enter Sandman." Seeing that open page, his doodles and notes and working out the lyrics was as a picture into the mind of Hetfield. 

After my trip to the Hall, I started going to record shops, seeing if they had any Led Zeppelin bootleg CD.  At one store, I found a couple concert CD's, and another had a CD called Studio Daze.   The final three tracks on this CD are "No Quarter (Instr. Rehearsal)," "No Quarter (Instr. Rehearsal)," and "No Quarter (Final Take)."   I bought it. What were these Instrumental Rehearsals? 

Keep in mind, this was 1997.  No iPods, and I didn't have a laptop at the hotel to listen to this CD on.  I didn't have my Discman with me.  The rental car I had didn't have a CD player in it either.  So I had to wait 6 days to get home to give this a listen.

I finally got home.  I had a pile of mail to sort through, laundry to do, but the first thing I wanted to do was hear these 3 versions of "No Quarter."  I loaded up the CD, fast forwarded to track 7, turned up the volume and sat down.

And was blown away.

Never mind the drumstick taps and Bonham's singsong "Pictures of Lily" at the start of the track.  The song opens as we're used to, with Jones on the synthesizer.  This was followed by the drums and guitar coming in, but no vocals.

This is already an ominous song, but now hearing it played without vocals, the tune took on a slightly more portentous tone.  And the tone just soaked into me. 

I'd listened to Zeppelin for years, and songs had taken hold but this night I just sat and listened to these three tracks over and over and over again.

I played in band in high school, and these rehearsal tracks opened a new area of appreciation for me. I've sat through hundreds of rehearsals and lessons and practice, and have an appreciation for what it takes to put something together. Everyone's part is important, has a role and voice, and it takes a lot for it to come together.  

These audio tracks became for me what the Hetfield notebook I saw in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Museum was:  an audio picture into the minds of Page, Jones, Bonham and Plant as they worked through things to develop this great song, and was more insightful to me than any interview I had read.

When The Levee Breaks

Levee: An embankment designed to prevent the flooding of a river.  -- Dictionary.com

Each spring as the snow melts and drains, rivers rise.  The further downstream you are, the more water there is, as miles and miles of tributaries feed their waters to the main river.   We hear of flooding each year.  Natural and man-made levees are supplemented with walls of sandbags, filled by volunteers who assemble to fill and place bags in attempts to save homes and businesses.

Water is cleansing and nourishing, sustaining  our lives, but it also  can be a force of destruction.   A levee can break, or breech, due to faulty design or erosion.  When it does, a trickle or torrent of water is unleashed and can leave untold amounts of damage behind after the waters recede.

In 1971, Led Zeppelin unleashed their own torrent upon the world, releasing their version of "When The Levee Breaks."  It's raw.  It's heavy.  It's the blues. 

This is an amazing song. There's a lot of emotion in here; despair, hopelessness.  Nothing you do can stop the forces at play; tremendous amounts of water, pressure and time all working against you, and as humans, we are pretty irrelevant.  There's nothing we can do, no place we can go.

To me, this song is a metaphor for our emotions, especially those of depression, sadness that wear away on us.  It was bad with me a couple years ago, when I finally snapped out of whatever trance I was in.  When I realized how bad things were, things seemed to get worse.  My feelings about myself got worse and other stresses stepped in to add to everything that was going on. 

Cryin' won't help you, prayin' won't do you no good, 

Now, cryin' won't help you, prayin' won't do you no good, 

When the levee breaks, mama, you got to move. 

I got to a point a couple days where I had cried so much, I wasn't sure I could cry any more. I physically and emotionally was worn out. All the people who said "it will feel good to cry and let it out" were lying. I certainly prayed in that time too, and ahead of it.  It seemed for naught.  Certainly the healing and reconciliation I had hoped and prayed for then didn't happen.

Eventually, the waters receded.   There was damage left behind, but I made it through.  I have my health, a great job, great friends and family, a nice house, three smart and healthy kids.  I've got a different outlook on my life and how I need to live it.

This song speaks to me of that time:  you can be down, and things might get worse, and the only thing we can do is wait it out. It's out of our control.  The waters have been set in motion miles upstream. We can cry, we can pray, but at that point in time, all you can do is get as far out of the way of the path of destruction as possible.   At least there's a great tune to listen to while you're getting out of the way. 

What Is and What Should Never Be

Verboten. Forbidden. Banned.

A school bans a book, and controversy ensues.  TSA has banned a long list of items from being brought on board an airplane, including personal toiletries of more than 3 ounces; but passengers day after day want to bring their gallon jug of Head & Shoulders with them on vacation.  Right off the bat in the Bible, God forbids Adam & Eve from eating fruit from The Tree of Knowledge of Good & Evil.  What do they end up eating?

The forbidden things are what we desire the most, because we're told we can't have them.   Plenty of times, growing up, we were told "no."   I couldn't go to a friends house without their parents being home.   Those were the times we had the most fun!   Drinking underage: always had someone who would buy for me.  (My friends and I were pretty safe though, and knew to stay at one home once we got started; that's one thing I'm glad we paid attention to).

As a parent, I am now handing out some healthy doses of Vitamin N to my kids, having the hindsight and knowledge from experiences I had with things that were forbidden to me.   I might take a slightly different approach to things than my parents did, though.

In the tune "What Is and What Should Never Be,"  the narrator weaves a story for us of forbidden love: that of another woman.  According to legend, Robert Plant was having dalliances with his then girlfriend's younger sister, which led to this song.  

And what a song it is.  This is one of my favorite Zeppelin tunes, for so many different reasons.  First, the turn of phrase of the title.  Words have power.  Second, musically, this song just has a lot that I am looking for: Strong guitar, great drumming, solid bass.  The bridge is especially fantastic, with the echo call of the guitar panned across the channels. It's a wonderful experience listening to this song in the car.   Finally, the key phrase for me:

So if you wake up with the sunrise, and all your dreams are still as new, 

And happiness is what you need so bad, girl, the answer lies with you.

First of all, I'm a morning person; I love the sunrise.  Lately I've had opportunity to catch a few of them, and it's been a delight.  Seeing the new of the day develop and knowing there's tremendous promise ahead is a great start to the day. Well, that and a cup of coffee.

The second line is most important, and to guys as well as girls:  Happiness is what you need so bad, the answer lies with you.   I am responsible for my happyness, and my attitude.  I cannot rely on my kids for my happyness; they can add to my happyness, but cannot be responsible for it.  A spouse, partner, lover can supplement happyness, but to have them responsible for my being happy is an unrealistic burden for them to bear.  I have to make the choice.  Some days, I might not be as happy as others.  Did I sleep poorly? Is my health bad?  Are events taking place in the world (globally, locally, personally) that are impacting my attitude or outlook?    We are all going to have bad days.  But I am responsible for making the decision to achieve a higher level of happyness.   And, I know that what is only a "4" for me on a scale of 1 to 10 might be an "8" for someone else.  We need to understand this is a sliding scale here, changing for each person. 

This is one of the chief things I'm trying to impart this to my kids when their attitude gets sour.  We choose how we act. We may not like what is currently going on, but if we approach a problem or a task with a good attitude, our results will  come quicker and we'll feel better about the outcome than we would have if we approached it with a rotten mindset.

Taking in mind the "forbidden" theme from the song, should I consider taking the negative approach in my parenting?  Should I forbid the kids to have a happy attitude?  It's one way we have turned frowns in to giggles here, but I'm going to forsake that for taking the more consistent approach about fostering a happy attitude.  And the first way that comes is by me setting the example.

Black Country Woman

When I was growing up and listening to my parent's records or tapes I had purchased, I always heard a perfectly played, well engineered piece of music.  The correct notes were played, the right words were sung, and nary an error was heard.  That was the product you delivered to the paying customer: something perfect.  

Then I heard Zeppelin's "Black Country Woman."  At the start of the song, you hear people talking, an airplane flying by, followed by a laugh and "Nah, leave it."  What was this?  How did this make it past an editor?  Have a listen:

Careful listening will reveal errors all over in Zeppelin's music.  In "Since I've Been Loving You," the pedal used to beat the bass drum has a squeak to it.  That squeak is as much a part of that song as the guitar solo.  In "Out On the Tiles," after Plant sings the line "I'm so glad I'm livin'," you can hear someone say "STOP!".  This was obviously from a previous take of that dong, captured on the tape and included for all eternity. 

There are other errata in their song catalog, but to me, they aren't mistakes; they are part of the music.  More than that, they reveal a human side of the band. Not just masters at creating music, telling a story, sharing heartbreak; now something went wrong, and they laughed it off.  They played through.  They didn't try to re-take the song, or oil up the bass pedal.  

They laughed it off.

When I played in high school band, there was such a focus on getting it exactly, technically right.  Crescendo now, and play staccato there and get exactly the right notes. One year, our jazz band had a Zeppelin-like moment. We were recording all the songs we had played that year. We had to be deathly quiet after a song so our instructor could pause the tape and we could get set up for the next song, then the deathly silence.  As we were finishing up one of the songs, it was getting close to the start of the school day.  With only a few measures left, the school bell went off and the assistant principal came on the intercom to call various miscreants to the office.  Someone said "we should start over" but we left it in. I love hearing that when I listen to that tape (yes, I still have it).

I've made a lot of damn mistakes in my life. Some, I've come to learn, were pretty intentional and not so much mistakes based on my attitude, the words I chose to use, or the tone of my voice.  I had a lot of focus on some sense of perfection. I was trying to live to some unattainable ideal, and I expected others around me to live to this ideal, one which I hadn't clearly communicated to them.   I'd like to think that I'm better now at laughing it off.  That I'm better at understanding and accepting that so much in my life is out of my control, and moving onto the next thing to affect change where I can.

Immigrant Song

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and in music, covering a song is the way it is done.   There are bands playing right now in a club or bar anywhere around the world playing Led Zeppelin songs.  Several Led Zeppelin tribute bands make a living traveling around and not only playing the music of Led Zeppelin, but dressing up and playing the part as well.   I've seen a couple bands in my time, and it has been a pretty good night out.  I have had to stop myself initially at these shows when I have started feeling a little disappointed to say: "This isn't Led Zeppelin, Shawn.  They love the band as much as you do; maybe more. Give them some credit.  They're on stage making the effort."   I also know from being in a band on the other side that we didn't fully reproduce the artists we were covering; but we did represent them, and the crowd had a good time.

I recently completed reading  Stieg Larsson's The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, and decided to watch the movie.   As the opening credits rolled, "Immigrant Song" began playing.  This wasn't Led Zeppelin's version, but an industrial/tech version performed by Trent Reznor, and vocals by Karen O.   They did a great job covering the song, and there were cool visuals with it. I think it was an appropriate way to represent the song, considering the theme of book.

Many other top bands have covered or used Led Zeppelin's music.    I was out with a couple friends one night and when we got back into my friend Jeff's truck to head home "When the Levee Breaks" started playing on the radio.   Jeff said "Oh, sweet! The Beastie Boys!" thinking that "Rhymin' and Stealin'" was coming on the air.   Almost in synch, my friend Pat and I started laughing and we corrected Jeff. 

The power of Zeppelin in that moment was we were two beats into the song, and we knew who it was.  We knew that it was the Zeppelin version and not a sample. 

The other thing with Zeppelin is that they themselves were masters at borrowing.  Before the Beastie Boys sampled "When the Levee Breaks,"  Led Zeppelin took it from someone else.  Zeppelin also took "Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You," and "Bring It On Home," and "Traveling Riverside Blues," among many others.

If we love Zeppelin, we have to love that they borrowed, and in my opinion, improved upon the original.  I've also come to appreciate other artists doing Zeppelin's work.  Tori Amos does a great cover of "Thank You," as does Chris Cornell.   Blind Melon did "Out on The Tiles."   The Black Crowes (okay, with Jimmy Page on guitar) did a bunch of Zeppelin tunes, and Chris Robinson has a great voice.  A nice list of covers is here, and I know a lot of these can be found on YouTube.

Do you have a favorite Zeppelin cover?

Nobody's Fault But Mine

Nobody's Fault But Mine

It's a personal trait, some might call it a flaw, but I just think if you mess something up, it's your job to own that you screwed up, and that you should do what you can to make things right.  

Making things right may require great personal cost: Cash outlays for restitution. Maybe it's a lot more time spent re-doing some work on a project because of an error, time spent away from home or rest.  

Making things right can start with the simple words "I apologize for my Oversight/Insensitivity/Mistake."   And while these are words, and may be spoken with a  contrite heart, the words themselves don't fix the wrong.  It takes action.

When re-work is required, we may not even be the ones who made a mistake; the error could have been made by someone else, but the re-work falls on us.   It's happened a lot at work, and I know it will happen again.   What's most important to me is someone taking responsibility to say "I messed up."  It might mean work for me, but if someone takes responsibility, in my world the work is a bit easier to do than in the case where blame is shifted or unacknowledged.

I have done more than my share of re-work on things. It was the right thing to do. It was good for the client, good for the company, and because my boss said I needed to do it, which obviates the need for anyone to say that they messed up.

"Nobody's Fault But Mine" speaks to me on an even more personal way in regard to my alcohol addiction.  I liked drinking beer and cocktails at a social situation, or it at home after work.  At the party, it was to enhance the experience or the meal. At home, to unwind.   I wanted to unwind from the pressures of the day. 

"Unwind" meant "escape." 

"Escape" meant "Hide."

I thought my having a drink would lighten me up, make me easier for others to be around, and for me to be around them.  It would take the edge off.  I didn't realize then I was just wanting to avoid, hide from all the realities this life holds. Bills, disease, work needing to be done, affection and love to those around me.  And I realized too late what price comes with avoiding all those things.

"Nobody's Fault But Mine" is an old delta blues song. This song has been around for ever, as well as the message.

Devil he told me to roll, Devil he told me to roll,

How to roll the log tonight

Nobody's fault but mine

Brother he showed me the gong

Brother he showed me the ding dong ding dong

How to kick that gong to light

Oh, it's nobody's fault but mine

Not booze, but some other drug. Hash? Opium? Weed?   It might come from somewhere else, but at the end of the day, it's the singer's choice to imbibe. It was my choice to drink.

People have said to me, "You were under a lot of stress, working to support your family."  Or, "there's nothing wrong with having a couple drinks. Every guy does that after work. It wasn't just you having the problem at home." 

I don't need others to make excuses for me and my behavior.  To borrow a phrase, it was "nobody's fault but mine."  I messed up.  Not a single beer or cocktail was had under duress. I was a very willing participant.  I made the choice.  And while it was mentioned to me by some that I should cut back, or quit drinking for a bit, that choice was also mine to make.

Got a monkey on my back.

Got a monkey on my back.

Gonna change my ways tonight

Nobody's fault but mine

It doesn't matter how many times or how passionately someone tells an addict to quit; until the addict gets in their head that they need to stop and that the time to stop is now, they aren't going to.  It caused pain for many that I hadn't quit sooner.

I didn't quit sooner, I quit then. I've been staying sober, working my program, and aim to keep that way.  And for other mistakes I make at work, at home, I will take responsibility for them.

Gallows Pole

I've got a couple brothers, and a couple sisters. I'm pretty blessed that they're part of my life, and when I say part of, I mean we talk on the phone every couple weeks and otherwise communicate through emails and texts.  We see each other a few times a year. My brothers and I all live within about 50 miles of each other; my sisters are bit further away, and honestly, we communicate less than my brothers and I do.  It's nothing personal, just how things are.  (One sister is a step-sister, and spent most of her time living at her mom's, and my other sister is a lot younger than me).

I have other friends where their siblings are more a part of their life. I'm glad that works for them. This is what is working for us.  We're friends, brothers/sisters. Loyal to each other, but also independent and watching out for ourselves too.

I also have some great friends, and some I consider to be closer to me than my brothers.  It's mostly because of what we have in common.  My friend Dane and I have had some life experiences together that my brothers and I haven't.  We can relate to certain things from school, or people.  While I lived with my brothers for a great number of years, during some very formative times, I lived with Dane, and I think I have a much stronger bond with him than I do my brothers.

I love my brothers and sisters, as well as many of my friends that I consider to be a sister or brother.  In the song "Gallows Pole," the brother brings silver and gold to attempt to save the life of the narrator.  The sister pays a greater price, yet it's all in vain.  The hangman still pulls the rope.  

Would I do anything for my brothers and sisters?  My closest friends?  Yeah, I'd probably do anything I could to save them, or help them out.   (Thankfully, they're all smart enough to not get into situations where I'd need to do anything where a hangman's noose will be around their neck. )

A great song; Page plays the banjo. Like on "Battle of Evermore" and the mandolin, Page had never played the banjo before; he just picked it up and went with it.  It starts with guitar, and as the desperation grows, more voices and frenzy enter the mix. 

Happy birthday to my little brother today.

Bron-Yr-Aur

(c)  2012 Shawn Sarazin

We live in a connected world. We are always reachable on our smart phones via SMS or Facebook messages or other chat tools, not to mention the email.  We have iPads, laptops, all of which also provide the ability to communicate with each other.  Our High Def TVs get 300 channels of video programming and thousands of on-demand movies to pump pictures and audio into our heads.  While I write this on my laptop, Girlkid is using the iPad and we have seven idle Internet-connected devices in the house. 

I drive about an hour to and then from work, during which time I'm listening to talk radio or music or satellite news; I'd rather listen to any of that than the road noise.  At work, I have people talking around me, meetings to attend, noise from doors opening or closing, as well as all my work to do.  At home, the dryer buzzes, the dishwasher hums, the AC vents move air. 

Aside from the auditory noise, there is so much other noise going on: the laundry to wash, dry, fold, and put away; the lawn to mow;  the kitchen to clean; the bills to pay.  I usually have some other work to do at the end of the day as well.

It's hard with all this to find time to really relax.  To stop the world, and just do nothing.  I've struggled with this at times, even when I have the chance.  I feel I could be doing something: wash a load of clothes or cook something. Go somewhere.   I was dared last winter to spend an entire day just watching TV or reading. No laundry, no cooking a big meal. I found it could be done: just sitting and doing nothing.

About 10 days ago, I had the opportunity to  step away from the hustle of the world with some friends at their lake property. There was time to play and swim, and some clean up tasks to do, but there was a lot of time for me to just sit and read, to talk with my friends and laugh with their kids.  After a remarkable sunset ,  the sky opened for us, revealing thousands of stars, and we listened to the pop and hiss of the wet wood on the fire. 

Sunset at Ross Lake
(c)  2012 Shawn Sarazin

 Since it can be hard to find time during the weekday to calm down and relax, we have to make our time to relax.  Schedule or block off time on your work calendar to step out of the office to go for a walk, or go to a park to sit and watch waves move across a lake.  I have loaded some books on my iPad, and can take a few minutes to read from a mystery.  Even the momentary distraction of not focusing on a spreadsheet to play a couple moves of Words With Friends can be calming.  I can also pipe in some stress-free music, and even a great rock band like Led Zeppelin can fulfill the need there.  The shortest tune in the Zeppelin catalog is titled "Bron-Yr-Aur," named after a cottage in Wales that the band retreated to after the tour following their second album.  It's a short, peaceful guitar instrumental, which I think reflects on what they found there: Solitude, peace, and music.  

Since all things Zeppelin are pretty delightful to me, imagine my joy this winter when in an antique store in St. Paul I spied a candle, with simple bold letters on the wrapping that read "Bron-Yr-Aur."  It was purchased for me to enjoy. A light lemon scent. I haven't burned it yet. I will soon, and while it's aroma fills the air, this song will play.

Your Time is Gonna Come

Civility has disappeared in Chicago Teachers Union protests twitter.com/DanielStrauss4…

— Daniel Strauss (@DanielStrauss4) September 11, 2012

School teachers in Chicago have gone on strike, and mayor Rahm Emmanuel has sided  with the School Board, taking a position against the teachers union.   This has sparked protest, including above sign.

When I saw this today, I laughed and laughed at to what lengths the union supporters will go if someone dares cross them. 

This sparked a conversation at work.  Personally, I don't find anything redeeming about Nickleback or their songs, and I'm hard pressed to call them songs.  I don't begrudge their formula and their success and ability to bring the fans and earn a living.  It's just that there is no musical quality to their songs, and nothing really insightful or emotional about their lyrics, many of which are degrading to women.  Yes, I've heard their songs.  Yes, I know they have a story. They just don't cause me to stop everything that I am doing to think about a situation, or rip my still beating heart of out my body.

Then you take Zeppelin.  Let's start with the musical quality: Page and Jones were talented musicians.  They played guitar, banjo and mandolin.  Jones also could play keyboards and bass. Page picked up the banjo or mandolin, having never played them before, and wrote songs with them after toying around for a little bit.  Bonham, on drums, could and did use everything at his disposal. Tympani, hand drums, gongs, his finger tips, four sticks at time instead of two, mallets.  Plant could sing and could cover a wide range , play harmonica, and some other rhythmic percussion. 

Lyrically, their songs can be straightforward ("Whole Lotta Love") or deep and meaningful, flowing with the music ("The Rain Song") to rip you up considering the impact of your own life. 

Today, I'll bring "Your Time is Gonna Come" from their first album for your consideration.  Most of the components come into play; pedal bass, organs, guitar, drums, and Plant's dynamic voice.  The lyrics speak of the man who has had enough, and will leave karma or fate to have it's way with the woman who has lied, cheated and hurt him for the last time.  You can hear the anguish in his voice, and the words for the song are complemented by the instruments, creating an entire experience for the listener. 

This is just one example.  Led Zeppelin played blues, rock, funk, even a rockabilly country song and an attempt at some reggae.  They used influences from the Middle East, the Mississippi Delta, and any number of places in between.  After the blistering power of their second album, they dialed down for their third album, and for the fourth matured in their depth and balance between the two styles.    Led Zeppelin was a versatile band that could play a wide range of songs with a depth and body, and there aren't many bands that exist today that have the ability to do the same thing.

As for Rahm Emmanuel,  I guess he's learning a similar message from the teachers union today if you don't walk in step with them, Your Time is Gonna Come.

In The Light

Being a dad and having a light bill, I’ve become the guy who walks around the house turning off lights that are left on. Garage lights, bedroom lights, basement lights, bathroom lights.  There are so many lights left on around here some days. I know I was like that as a kid, too. 

I'm alone here part of the week, and I generally keep lights to a minimum.  At home in the night time, the house is pretty dark. I know my way around, but with 3 kids, there's a fighting chance I might step on a Lego or a book or a matchbox car or doll head, all of which hurt. A lot!  So if I'm navigating my way around, I turn some lights on.

Zeppelin's song "In the Light" isn't so much about getting around the house at night.  It's about our life journey, and like so many other songs, I have liked this song for a long time, but in the last couple years, it took on new meaning.

And if you feel that you can't go on. And your will's sinkin' low

Just believe and you can't go wrong.

In the light you will find the road. You will find the road.

I probably had no idea just how depressed I was until I realized things were so bad with my marriage.  And it wasn't just my marriage that things were bad with, I realized.  It was relationships with friends. My health.  Then I realized that things in all those areas hadn't been right for a long time.

My self-esteem was pretty low, and I realized it had been low for a long, long time. I could - would - project confidence to others, but doubted my ability to actually carry through on it.  People told me I did a good job on something at work; but, I didn't believe them.  Even if I got a bonus, or called out in some other way and given attention, I didn't believe I was doing something.   Or, people would tell me "Shawn, you're such a good dad."  Really? I sure didn't feel like it. 

I know you get out of something what you put in.  I didn't feel like I was putting in a lot, when I know now in reality I was.  I didn't feel like a good Dad, be cause I wasn't putting a lot into it, either.   The same with my marriage.

At the end of the day - well, quite a while, actually -  and after a lot of reflection, I did come to believe that I was good at my work, I was good at being a dad.  The marriage, by then, was done. 

The key is here, to believe, and you can't go wrong; In the light, you'll find the road.  It's a lot easier to find the path when the light is shining on it.  The whole "it's better to light a candle than curse the darkness."  

"In the Light" is an underplayed, under appreciated song. You're not going to hear it on the radio unless you have a station nearby that has a "Get the Led Out" feature or it's a "Zeppelin AtoZ" weekend or something.  Most people won't or haven't listened past the introduction, where Jimmy Page uses a violin bow on an acoustic guitar while John Paul Jones works the synthesizer.   After that, and the opening lyrics, the song kick in, and it is a dynamic song, full of emotion and the desperation for people to walk In The Light. 

Out on the Tiles

I'm just a simple guy, I live from day to day.

A ray of sunshine melts my frown, and blows my blues away.

This line from "Out on the Tiles" has always meant a lot to me. I've thought that this line was a definition of me.  My friend Bill one time pointed out: "Yeah, you're simple all right."   This song, especially this line, exemplifies happiness and joy to me.  The tune is upbeat, the words, the Plant's tone: It's optimism, packaged in a tidy four minute, ten seconds.

The truth is, the ray of sunshine seldom melted the frown, and sure as hell didn't blow the blues away for me in my life.  I carried around a lot of crap: grudges, anger, resentment, jealousy.    For years and years, I carried that stuff around.  It was  the big snowball rolling down the hill; picking up more stuff, and gaining speed and whatever it ended up hitting at the bottom of the hill was going to get damaged.   I could be a real bear to be around,  or people just didn't know what they were going to get.  Would something they said set me off?

I didn't know how to let things go, or that I even could.  On top of all that, I'd drink in the evenings, and that certainly didn't do anything to improve my attitude.   I'd lie to myself when this song came on.  I'd hear the line, even sing along, and say "yeah! Things will be good."  Whatever. I sure didn't live it.  

A couple years ago, I came to the realization that I wasn't living a right life, or being honest with anyone;  certainly not with myself. My marriage was deteriorating, and I realized then that it had been for years, and my own attitude and behavior and words were nothing but lip service.   

I had to make some changes, and I did.  Things are not by any means perfect today. I've lost track a few times and not allowed myself to remember this.   I'm still short some times.  But I work to not carry the other stuff around.  I don't need to.   I'm making my best effort, and when I hear this song  it's a reminder that I can be the simple guy, and let the sunshine melt the frown.  If I feel myself getting down or frustrated, I can turn this song on to give myself an attitude adjustment.   Ironically, the phrase "out on the tiles" is an British phrase for heading out for a night on the town, at the bars.  No more of that going on here.

 When I was in the 6th grade, I started playing the saxophone in the school band, and kept at it all the way through high school.  I played in the concert bands, the marching band, pep bands, and my favorite, the jazz band.   Jazz band practice and the songs we played and are some great memories in my life.  A few years ago, this video of "Out on the Tiles" featuring Lenny Pickett from the Saturday Night Live band made it's way to YouTube.  I'm responsible for many of the 640 views (as of this writing).  This version takes me back to those 1988-1991 years with a crew that met twice a week at 630 in the morning to play in the jazz ensemble.  I hope you enjoy it as well. 

The Ocean

Part of my role as a consultant is to be in front of the room.  It might be giving a presentation about a deliverable that our team created.   Other times, I hold the marker and run the whiteboard, diagramming or making points and connections about applications and servers and databases, trying to understand them so we can plan to move them from datacenter A to datacenter B.  

I know I'm no Tony Robbins, and also that the topics I'm talking about are low on the scale of exciting.   There's seldom a rush, or high, associated with this kind of work I do, especially when people are reading their emails, texting, or doing other work.  On some occasions, the impact of the potential savings or  new way of looking at an asset and solving a problem causes people to stop that other work and focus on what I am saying.  Even then, I don't often sense from the audience an energy and excitement about the topic at hand.  But there are times when I am working on a project and there are "A-ha" moments with the customer in a workshop, or a presentation… and the energy begins to build.  There is mutual understanding and ideas start to flow.  

When we are a the end of a successful project and complete a weekend of data center relocation, for example, I'm physically tired after being up all night but my mind is just racing and thinking about how well we did on this largest and potentially disruptive project a company has undertaken.  It's gratifying to know that the customer's customers had no idea this project went on.  I get home and I can't sleep. I know part of the issue is the caffeine and sugar overdose, but for the most part it's adrenaline and excitement of executing a well-planned event.

On the other hand, Zeppelin had crowds, tens of thousands of people who paid money to see them and were excited beyond measure to feel the music pound through them.  I have been lucky enough to see Page and Plant in concert together, as well as Robert Plant a couple times.  I can't imagine how great it was to have seen Zeppelin in concert.  Just being in the same room as these greats is a lot to handle, and hearing Zeppelin songs by them at a show has been joyous beyond words.

That's the type of energy and feedback going on in "The Ocean."  This is a song about Zeppelin's fans: The Ocean in the halls, the stadiums, and what message and feeling it sends back to the band.   I know and have had that feeling, that moment of "I get it!" for us at work and the customer engages.  When Zeppelin showed up, that was already there. 

Personal gripe:  If you only hear this song on the radio, you almost certainly miss hearing the beginning of it, when John Bonham counts off the beat:

We've done four already, but now we're steady

and then they went: 'One, two, three, four!'

Most radio stations edit that out, but they wait and wait and wait at the end of "A Day In The Life" by The Beatles to hear the chair creak.  Unfair!