The Tracks of My Dreams

Switz

As I write the lead for this blog, I am riding in the front car of a high-speed Swiss train from Zurich to Geneva, on a grassy bank alongside Lake Neuchatel under a partially overcast spring sky. By the time I’m composing the fourth or fifth paragraph I will be on a different train somewhere else in Europe, or Asia, or the Congo, or if I’m desperate, Western Pennsylvania.

You think me mad? I am not. The Internet has electronically opened our world in a myriad of ways, some of them wonderful, some of them banal, and too many of them creepy, but sometimes you stumble across something you didn’t know existed that speaks to you in a way you didn’t even realize you like to be spoken to. In my case, it is a series of hi-def, no-cuts, YouTube train ride videos.

I’ve always been a secret admirer of trains, and train travel. To this day my parents insist that one of the first things out of my toddler mouth was “Beep-beep, tikka tikka!” when we drove under a railroad bridge one day that had a train passing over the top. A set of tracks for a New York City to points north Amtrak line passed through woods in my home town outside of Springfield, Mass., and me and my friends used to love walking them for half a mile or so any chance we could get. I even had one of my high school senior photos taken standing on those tracks, white denim jacket slung over my shoulder like a bad 1970s fashion model.

I’ve enjoyed watching videos taken from front seats of terrifying roller coasters for quite a while, but those are short and often make me queasy. Anyway, while watching one of those recently I noticed a side link to this Zurich to Geneva ride pictured at he top, two and a half hours in length, and I was hooked.

Now there’s no way I would sit and watch a video like this in one sitting; regardless of what you may have heard, I do possess a life. But fifteen minutes while flossing my teeth late at night? You bet. Keep it going in the corner of my screen while I work on an Excel file or something mindless? Uh-huh.

But sometimes I just want to be on a train that goes a bit faster, so thankfully there’s this high-speed rail journey in Taiwan that lasts 90 minutes and for most of the trip reaches a speed of just under 300 kilometers an hour, accompanied with goofy speed graphics and robotic announcements. The beauty of most of the videos I’ve found is that they have no narration and virtually no announcements, just the occasional clicks of the driver’s controls and soothing sound of wheels on track.

SwedishTracksIs the Taiwan ride a bit too straight and industrial for you? Okay, why not this one and this one, from a sunny, gorgeous route through summer Swedish countryside that resembles Central Vermont?

For the true intrepid cab ride train traveler, there is also this marathon, 7.25-hour trek from Bergen in western Norway, across most of the country to Oslo. I just watched the first 45 minutes and I can’t even begin to count how many tunnels, bridges and scenic rivers were part of the route.

Oh yeah, the tunnels. One needs patience when inside those. Sometimes they’re mercifully short, sometimes a bit long and the train has no headlights and it’s a little like riding through a tomb. But the good news is that there’s always light at the end of the tunnel and it’s always a thrill when you re-emerge.

Need a starter set? Okay then, here’s a sweet, 30-minute shorty, from Malmö to Copenhagen, Denmark. There are plenty of others in Spain and Germany to choose from, and even an hour and a half freight train ride from Pittsburgh to Connellsville in icky lo-def that’s going about as fast as my Saturn does in L.A. city traffic.

NordicTracksThe prize so far? Without a doubt, it’s this breathtaking epic, the final three-hour leg of a ten-hour journey on the Nordland line from Trondheim to Bode, Norway, a trip that takes you along fjords and up and down mountains and through woods and fishing villages and across a neo-Arctic plain flanked by sun-kissed peaks on both sides, everything covered in virgin snow that gives the train’s wheels a rolling, silky sound and is a more relaxing thing to watch before bedtime than anything else I can imagine. You don’t believe me? Go ahead. Put it on, advance to the 50-minute mark, and just try to turn it off. Just try.

Sweet dreams, travelers…

Why I Never Watch One Solitary Second of the Grammys

grammy-awards-2015-red-carpetLet’s get this straight from the outset: I love music. Can’t get through a day at work without having it on my headphones. Can’t drive a mile in my car without tapping my foot or bobbing my leg to something. Certainly can’t go for a solo walk in my neighborhood or up a trail without something groovy piping out of my earbuds.

But you will never catch me watching the Grammy Awards. Ever.

Music for me has become a pretty personal thing. I spent years recording mixes from CDs to my cassette deck, and now have at least three drawers of cassettes to prove it. This clunky activity has been thankfully replaced with downloads from iTunes or the Internet, but the usage of my music collecting has also changed, not just the nature. I used to make a habit of getting people into my car and trying to subject them to whatever my latest cassette or CD mix was, until I realized that’s a really hard thing to do. People tend to have their own personal tastes in a big way when it comes to music, and often resist anyone interfering with that. Hell, I know I would.

So these days it’s strictly Music for Jeff, and my electronic jukeboxes are in as many places as I can happily access.

The problem with the Grammys is that it seems to have much more to do with sales and corporate branding and publicity firms and the fashion industry and Hollywood than it does with actual music. After being a pretty big rock fan during the 1970s and early 80s, my musical preference changed 180 degrees when I moved to L.A. in ’82. A workmate soon turned me on to African music, which I made tapes of and went to see live for many years. Then another workmate introduced me to electronic music. Then another to Brazilian. Then I began exploring iTunes on my own and discovered wonderful sub-genres I never knew existed, such as retro lounge, downtempo, punk-a-billy, electro-funk, electro-swing, and other hybrids of every stripe. I have an amazing reggae version of a Christmas song sung by Billie Holiday.

All I’m saying is that music is everywhere in every form imaginable, encompasses so many styles and genres, and to pigeon-hole it into award categories (“Record of the Year”? Please.) is a fruitless, absurd endeavor. Music is not TV or the movies; it is a fluid, ever-growing part of our culture that we all can enjoy individually and should be cherished without being idolized, glitterized, and Kanye-ized.

Head down to the New Orleans Jazz Fest sometime and this will all become very clear. On the grounds of a giant racetrack every spring, music fills the air, one kind after another, from cajun to gospel to rock to reggae to Caribbean to whatever the hell, wafting over from various stages and out of big tents along with the aromas of devastatingly good food. It’s a giant cultural stew with no boundaries, pouring over the masses and meant to be gobbled up.

Music has been with us for seemingly ever, and to me, the Grammys represent everything that it isn’t.