The leave-us-alone anthem “Shelter Me,” by Cinderella. It’s off the vastly underrated 1994 1990 LP “Heartbreak Station.” Hey, you got your sax solo in my hair rock! Well, you got your hair rock in my sax solo!

The great Mavis’ Staples wonderful take on the Stephen Foster standard, “Hard Times Come Again No More.”

Comes from this pretty good album of Foster tributes, released a couple of years ago.

“My Lover’s Prayer,’ by Stax legend Otis Redding.

Sean Mullins’ ode to the 92-year-old woman killed in a botched drug raid came out a few weeks ago. And it’s good! Well, the music is good. The lyrics wander around a bit, and don’t really tell what actually happened. But hey, it’s a good pop song about a botched drug raid. I’m not going to complain. I can’t find it online anywhere, but you can download it from Amazon for a buck.

Here’s a short interview Mullins gave to the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. I’d beg to differ with him on one point. Mullins says this kind of thing only happens in “certain neighborhoods.” It’s probably true that low-income people get the brunt of it. But there are plenty of examples of botched raids on college students, middle-class homes, and, occasionally, even millionaires.

“Grey in L.A.” by Loudon Wainwright III.

It’s off Strange Weirdos, his wonderfully melancholy tribute to surviving middle age in Southern California.

Like many good things in music, Strange Weirdos was produced by the great Joe Henry.

The ridiculously popular gossip site plugs the band of Agitator pal Charlie Ransford.

“King of Carrot Flowers, Part I,” by Neutral Milk Hotel.

Hard to believe, but the wonderful album this song is from is now 10 years old. This cut features two teens having their first carnal experience–while the girl’s parents carry on a violent argument. Plus, allusions to Anne Frank.

Strange, surreal, and weirdly beautiful.

“The Drinking Song,” by Moxy Fruvous.

Last night the Agitatrix and I went to see The Eels at, of all places, the Sixth and I Synagogue in Washington, D.C. It was a pretty cool experience. I’ve never really gotten into the band–which over the years has really come to be just Mark “E” Everett with a varying lineup of supporting musicians. I’m not sure why. It’s great stuff. Angsty, tormented, and soulful–sparely written and produced. Prime brood music.

We were also treated to a pre-show documentary on quantum physics, courtesy of Everett’s fascinating biography. Mark Everett’s father is the late Hugh Everett, the physicist who in the mid-1950s first came up with the theory of parallel universes. Unfortunately, few people noticed, and those who did were pretty dismissive. The elder Everett was dejected, eventually left academia, and took a job with the Pentagon. He also apparently battled depression and alcoholism for most of his life, and was a pretty distant father. It would take the scientific community thirty-plus years to resurrect Everett’s theory, and begin to give him the praise he craved for discovering it. Unfortunately, that happened well after his death from a heart attack in 1982 (Mark Everett discovered his father’s body).

So as science slowly came around to appreciating his father, so too did Mark Everett. There are some remarkable parts of the documentary where he talks about how odd it’s been to learn over the years that the dad he knew who put in long days at the Pentagon, drank, and smoked around the house has slowly emerged and become accepted as one of mankind’s greatest minds. In one touching scene, Everett has just found some tapes in his family’s basement dictated by his father. The tapes have enormous scientific/historical value, as there isn’t much known about Everett’s father. In one, as the elder Everett is dictating on quantum theory, you can hear the younger Everett banging on drums in the background.

The documentary is called Parallel Worlds, Parallel Lives, and traces Everett’s journey to discovery both his father, and his efforts to educate himself on his father’s legacy. Unfortunately, unless you use BitTorrent, there’s really no way to get it. But here’s a clip:

Everett’s father died when he was 19. Shortly after The Eels much-acclaimed debut, Everett’s sister committed suicide. He apparently lost several friends and then, a couple years later, his mother. His cousin was a flight attendant on the plane that struck the Pentagon on September 11. The guy’s got enough dark material to fill a Nick Cave boxed set.

Despite the weighty material, Everett was witty and friendly, if in an “I tell the jokes to keep the pain away” sort of way. His voice is gruff but pleasant. At least live, his performance evoked for me later-era Tom Waits, Jeff Tweedy, Mark Lanegan, and Joe Cocker (the latter more just his voice than the music itself). He took the stage with just one other guy, a versatile fellow Everett referred to only as “The Chet,” who played a very cool (and spooky) saw blade with a stringed bow, and did readings from Everett’s autobiography, Things the Grandchildren Should Know.

Wasn’t a fan before. I am now. Here’s one from last night I particularly liked, courtesy of a YouTuber (NSFW language):

Let’s go with Metallica’s excellent version of the Irish folk song, “Whiskey in the Jar.”

Interesting history of the song at Wikipedia.

“To the Dogs or Whoever,” by Josh Ritter. From his terrific new(ish) album.

This is a live version, and a pretty darned good one. Anyone else hear hints of “Subterranean Homesick Blues” in there?

“The Healer,” by John Lee Hooker and Carlos Santana.

Off Hooker’s amazing 1998 duets album, “Best of Friends.”

“None of Us Are Free,” by Solomon Burke, with the Blind Boys of Alabama.

Under the right circumstances, this song will make you weep.

The new album from folkster Shawn Mullins includes a song called “The Ballad of Kathryn Johnston.”

Comes out in March.

“Valley Winter Song,” by Fountains of Wayne.

Light blogging today, as the Agitatrix and I are in New York City. We took the train up last night to see Joe Henry at Lincoln Center. Best concert I’ve seen in a long, long time. Henry and his band were fantastic, as was the special guest, the phenomenal jazz pianist Brad Mehldau. And I don’t think I’ve ever been in a better venue for a show. I’ll have a more thorough review a bit later. For now, enjoy the two tunes below. “Trampoline” is from the late 1990s, before Henry started forging his really unique, post-pop sound. “Time Is a Lion” is a cut from Henry’s latest album, Civilians. He played both last night.

“Moment in the Sun,” by Clem Snide. You might remember this song from the sadly short-lived TV show Ed. Eef Barzelay is his own kind of genius, penning wry, deadpan, surreal, and sometimes tender lyrics over incredibly catchy but quirky alt.country melodies. Clem Snide’s one of my favorites. Enjoy.

Pick a an article from Wikipedia’s randomizer for your band name. Pick the last four words of a quote from Wikipedia’s quote randomizer for your album name, and pick a random photo from Flickr’s “interesting” page for your album artwork.

I got the band “Storey’s African Mole Rat.” The name of the album was “Out Before it Comes.” And here is the album cover. Seriously.

Here are lots more.

“Liar’s Bar,” by the Beautiful South. A wonderfully gritty, wry (or if you’re a punster, rye) Tow-Waits-meets-Charles Bukowski tome about drink, drunkenness, the dives where drinkers go to get drunk. I have no idea what the video’s about. Just posting the YouTube to give you a taste of the song.

We’re going hair rock this week. How ’bout the power ballad “Coming Home,” by Cinderella?

Ah…sounds like junior high.