S.W. Lauden on 1000 Greatest Misses

Last week, my podcast partner Chris and I recorded a terrific episode of our podcast, 1000 Greatest Misses, as we featured special guest author S.W. Lauden, also known as Steve Coulter, a great drummer formerly of the band Tsar, who we happened to feature on our podcast a while back. Steve has authored numerous book - both fiction and non-fiction - and is also the author of the Substack Remember the Lightning. Steve was nice enough to speak with Chris and me on our podcast episode 111, and then he interviewed us for an entry on his Substack. I encourage you to check out his writings in general, but below is the interview he had with Chris and me, as we discuss our podcast after over two years under our belts.

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I don’t usually rely on podcasts to (re)discover great guitar pop artists and songs from the past, but 1,000 Greatest Misses is definitely an exception.

This is largely due to the unique format that co-hosts Christopher Grey and Paul Heinz set up in 2023. Most episodes start with banter between the two music obsessives who then play samples from five different tracks that “hit all the marks but failed to chart” while discussing their personal perspectives and opinions.

“I will take credit for the idea, 8 years before I found the right person to partner with to bring it to fruition. My partner Paul Heinz and associate producer Bob Blum get credit for everything else,” Grey told me for the interview below.

“I do love turning people on to songs that have had an impact on me. I’m always texting Spotify or Youtube links to friends, saying, ‘Have you heard this yet?’ The podcast just allows me to reach thousands (okay, not exactly thousands) of people all at once, every week.”

“Chris has so much knowledge about the minutia of obscure bands, producers, record labels, and the like,” Heinz agreed.

“I’m definitely the novice on this journey, but I was able to tackle some of the legwork necessary to take his idea to the finish line. Then Bob came in and helped with some of the more grueling aspects of preparing for a weekly podcast. When you’re just starting out, you kind of underestimate the number of hours it takes to record a good half an hour episode.”

I caught up with Grey and Heinz by email to thank them for having me on as a guest (please don’t hold that against them), talk about how the show has evolved from their original vision, and what their plans are once they hit 1,000 songs.

I'm a big fan of your podcast, so it was an honor to be a guest. I think the format is really interesting. How did you land on that formula?

Christopher Grey: I was a guest on a couple of episodes of the Rock and/or Roll podcast with BJ Kramp. We had a ball, and he indulged my desire to talk about all these killer obscure tracks pulled from early ‘80s radio station compilation records. My initial premise was to keep the podcast short—5 songs per episode and put an expiration date on it. Hence the 1000 greatest misses, 200 episodes and out.

The better question is what kind of blackmail evidence did I have on Paul and Bob to get them to agree to work with me?

Paul Heinz: It certainly wasn’t the cash!

What have you learned over the course of 100+ episodes?

Christopher Grey: That it’s really hard to grow an audience when your subject matter is as specific as ours. For the amount of time I’ve spent adding links to Facebook posts, setting up guests and generally spreading the 1KGM gospel, we should have tens of thousands of listeners. Spoiler alert: We don't. But I will say that the folks that listen understand us and have proven to be as big or bigger fans than we are! They are so knowledgeable and hearing from them makes my day every time.

Paul Heinz: And we’ve also heard from quite a few of the artists we’ve featured, which isn’t something we expected. As for as listenership goes, when you consider the number of options for people to spend their time on these days, the fact that we have a crew of loyal listeners is really gratifying.

You occasionally have guests on (I loved the Peter Jesperson and Ted Ansani episodes). Any temptation to turn this into an interview podcast?

Christopher Grey: In my head, it’s certainly a lot more work to coordinate a show with guests. Of course, I understand that fans want to hear from artists and music industry figures, but there are so many podcasts that are better funded, researched, and that do such a great job in that space. The highest compliment I’ve gotten is that listeners feel like they are having a conversation with us. I think that was the original vibe we were going for.

Paul Heinz: I’ve had listeners tell me that they’re more interested in the banter between Chris and me than the songs themselves. Go figure.

Who is somebody that both of you agree would be the ultimate 1000 Greatest Misses guest (and why is it Paul Westerberg)?

Christopher Grey: I think Paul Westerberg represents a common ground for Paul and me. As our listeners know, Paul doesn’t always care for the songs that I bring to the table. In fact, his quote, "I wish it was better," is bandied around like a line from Caddyshack in our small community.

Paul Heinz: We even thought about putting that quote on the back of our t-shirts!

Christopher Grey: I would love to talk to Roger Manning or Jason Falkner as a fan, but I could see us featuring some hardcore record collectors that specialize in our favorite genres as well. Listeners of the show have proven to be extremely entertaining. Maybe we could get a power pop version of the Wack Pack of our most devoted listeners: Sharon, Jared, Andy, Pete, and Kevin!

Paul Heinz: I’ve never even heard of 80% of the bands we feature, so when we have guests on, I really have to do my homework. I know a bit about The Replacements, but having Paul Westerberg as a guest would be terrifying.

What are a few favorite artists or tracks that you specifically discovered through the podcast?

Christopher Grey: The list is long and varied. The High Back Chairs, Softjaw, Company of Thieves, The Argyles, Comsat Angels, SVT, Death Cab for Cutie (yep, I have blind spots), Graduate, The Shake Shakes.

Paul Heinz: Mine includes The Keys, The Planets, Falcon Eddy, Billy Bremner, The Cretones, The Toms, Enuff Z’nuff, Bash and Pop, Glen Burtnick and Paul Warren.

What's next for you two and 1,000 Greatest Misses?

Christopher Grey: We just recorded episode 111, (special thanks to Steve Coulter…aka S.W. Lauden!) and that leaves us with 89 more to go to satisfy the original intent of 200 episodes. We took a hiatus a few months back and retooled the show a little, and since then I’m enjoying it more than ever. Maybe there will be 1000 More Greatest Misses, maybe we will come up with a new concept, or maybe Paul will realize that I am dead weight and kick me to the curb and replace me with someone younger and better looking. Oh wait, that might be my wife's plan.

Paul Heinz: Nope. That’s my plan, too.

The Dreaded Resealable Vinyl Sleeves

If you’ve done any record shopping at all, you’ve surely noticed that most used records are protected by a transparent record sleeve. Perhaps not the dozens of ring-worn copies of B.J. Thomas, Barbara Streisand and Barry Manilow, but any record worth more than $10 is likely covered in some fashion (and please note that I’m not knocking any of those artists – it’s just that their records are, well…plentiful).

In most stores, records are stored in a certain way:

1)      The records themselves are front-facing for ease of flipping.

2)      They are housed in plastic outer sleeves whose open ends are pointed towards the album cover openings (apparently called a “cover mouth.” I just learned something!).

3)      The inner sleeves that house the record itself are also pointed toward the cover mouth, allowing would-be buyers to extract the vinyl record without any unnecessary steps.

Some albums don’t play nice with this storage – Elton John’s Honky Chateau comes to mind – but for most part, this type of format works well, and as a guy who buys a fair number of records each year, I’ve grown accustomed to this protocol.

But more and more lately, I’ve had the misfortune of perusing used records that are housed in resealable sleeves, the kind that fold over and adhere like a Post-It note, leaving the album cover completely encased – even the opening that houses the inner sleeve and record. This obviously makes checking the record quality tedious, because I have to peel back the sticky fold of the outer sleeve to extract the record, and if I’m thumbing through a couple hundred items, it makes for a cumbersome visit and an unhappy camper.

Some stores go to even greater lengths to spoil my record-buying outing, turning a potential customer into a sworn enemy. Outside of Phoenix, one particular establishment (who shall remain nameless) turns a record quality check into about a minute-long ordeal on the front end, and then another minute-long ordeal on the back end. To wit:

1)      The records are stored in resealable sleeves. My happy disposition is already marred.

2)      These resealable sleeves are pointed north so that the “cover mouth” isn’t exposed even after opening the outer sleeve. Because of this, the album cover has to be completely extracted from the outer sleeve.  Now I’m starting to mutter a few obscenities.

3)      This store takes things a step further: the inner sleeve is also pointing north, meaning I can’t take out the vinyl without first slipping the entire inner sleeve out of the record cover. By this point I’m giving the stink eye to the poor clerk at the cash register, and she probably has nothing to do with this madness!

4)      Once the record is freed from this insanity, I hold it between my hands and tilt it from side to side. And wouldn’t you know it? This particular copy of Working Class Dog by Rick Springfield is marked up beyond any reasonable collector’s threshold, and by this point I’m fuming, because…

5)      I now have to reverse the process to put the album back the way I found it!

I certainly wasn’t going to go through this procedure again and again. I walked out empty-handed and spent my money elsewhere.

I’ve been told by my friend and podcast partner Chris that if a store is going to use resealable sleeves, an accurate grade of the record should be marked on a sticker so that the buyer knows what he or she is getting. But even then I’m skeptical, because I want to see what I’m buying, and not every grading system is consistent.

Sure, if you own a record store and have a mint copy of Prince’s Black Album, go ahead – put it inside a resealable sleeve. In fact, put it in a safe and just display a photo of the record for interested parties! But for most merchandise in the $10 to $250 range, please do us all a favor and stick to the protocols that make record-buying a joyful experience.

A New Song: Happy Ending

Rather than embark on another huge project this year, I’ve decided to record two new songs, fine-tune two old songs, and put them out as two releases – a single and a 3-song EP. First up is the single, Happy Ending, a blistering four-minute tirade that was written last year and primarily recorded from December 2024 through February of this year.

Unlike my several last recordings, I decided to use a drum softsynth rather than the real thing, just as I did with my earliest recordings. More and more I’ve been finding that mixing songs with live drums – especially when engineers set up twelve or more mics to capture the sound – to be a frustrating, mind-numbing process, forcing me to use samples to avoid the inevitable bleeding that occurs when dealing with so many tracks. Great mixing engineers may be able to manage all of this just fine, but I can not. My best experience mixing live drums was with my 2021 album, The Human Form Divine, when I insisted that the engineer set up as few mics as possible, mimicking the Glyn Johns technique that he used on so many great-sounding albums. This method worked great for me, and to date, Human Form is one of my best-sounding efforts.

To purchase a drum softsynth, I called up good old Ben from Sweetwater last summer and asked him to recommend one that was easy to use. He suggested EZ Drummer 3, and while there were certainly a few quirks to be overcome, ultimately I was satisfied with how the process went. As always, I eschewed any prerecorded MIDI performances and instead recorded my own part, spending hours on velocity adjustments, fills, flams and ghost notes. My son Sam offered some great feedback in this regard, directing me to the most human-sounding performance.

So, is the drum part I came up with better than a really good drummer playing live? Nope! But the mixing process was so effortless in comparison with my last project that it was worth the modest drop-off, particularly for a song that was really all about the energy rather than virtuosic performances.

Once I laid down the bass, vocal and scratch piano tracks, I asked local guitarist Brandon Schreiner if he’d be willing to help out. Brandon and I have played a few dozen times together over the years, mostly in a friend’s basement, but he has chops and musical instincts that I'd rate with the best of them (he also played on three tracks from last year’s release, Pop and Circumstance). I was elated when he agreed to play some tracks for the tune. For the guitar solo, I hummed for him an idea of how I wanted it to go, and he patiently laid down a few dozen takes before finding just the right combination. Wonderful!

I then added a bit of guitar myself, recorded piano, Wurlitzer and double vocals, and began mixing. I loved having only one tune to focus on this time around instead of a full-length album. To help with the mix, I asked a few friends to give a listen, including Sam, Brandon, Anthony Calderisi and Phil Sumida. Phil in particular offered a few hints that took the song from sounding okay to sounding really good. As always, I employed Collin Jordan of Chicago’s Boiler Room to master the project, and the results are terrific.

So step one of my 2025 recordings is complete! I hope to have my three-song EP, Esteemed Progeny, completed by the end of the summer, and I’ll then embark on a huge project that will take a couple of years to complete. At least that’s the plan for now.

Rewind: The Sunscreen Song and Teacher Hit Me With a Ruler

I talked about the Sunscreen Song on my podcast recently and thought I’d put out this blog again, originally written in 2023. The song is a fascinating bit of history, I think, with some great backstory. It’s also contains five minutes of really great advice.

The Sunscreen Song and Teacher Hit Me with a Ruler

February 02, 2023

A little insight into the mind of a music obsessive. Two examples:

1) Last week as I was flossing my teeth, I heard a man’s calm but commanding voice utter a one-word imperative sentence. Floss.

Floss. Floss. This meant something. I’d heard this man’s voice before. Deep inside my twisted brain, neurons were fired, synapses were traversed, and within a minute or two I remembered that it came from a song of sorts. A song of a speech? 

A quick Google search of “song advice speech” resulted in a link to “The Sunscreen Song,” aka “Everybody’s Free (to Wear Sunscreen),” a 1998 release by film director Baz Luhrmann that became a cultural phenomenon in the U.S. The song uses an essay of a hypothetical commencement speech written by Chicago Tribune columnist Mary Schmich (widely misattributed to Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.) and received nationwide radio play in 1999. It’s a terrific little oddity, and I think the advice given is an poignant and funny today as it was twenty years ago. It was great to hear again.

Thank you, twisted brain!

2) Then, this morning I read Heather Cox Richardson’s essay on the history of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” a song that’s perhaps best known for its first line, “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”

Later, while walking my dog, I found myself stepping in time to the tune, and little by little I recalled that the reason I know the song so well is due to a parody that my brother taught me when I was a young grade schooler. These lyrics are NOT something that would be tolerated at any school today, but I recall them vividly with fondness:

My eyes have seen the glory of the burning of the school
We have tortured all the teachers we have broken all the rules
We have massacred the principal and barbecued the cooks
His truth is marching on

Glory, glory hallelujah
Teacher hit me with a ruler
Hid behind the door with a loaded .44
And there ain’t no teacher anymore.

Oh, how I laughed at this rendition! I particularly like the irony of barbecuing the cooks. A quick search online reveals that there are many variations of this tune, no doubt sung with glee on school playgrounds everywhere back in the day. I believe that singing it today would result in a suspension. A shame.

And there you have it. Every so often a jumbled brain will reward you with a link to the past, usually right after misplacing your car keys or stubbing your toe. Gotta get a win some of the time.

My Classical Music Journey through the Baroque Period

Late last year, I decided to embark on a classical music-listening journey in 2025, hopefully learning a little something along the way and getting a better sense of how music evolved and what composers or types of music particularly speak to me. Accompanying me on my journey are a couple of excellent books to help me understand the context of the music I’m listening to. I’m six weeks in, and since I’m taking my journey in chronological order, I knew that some of the front end of this effort was going to be a little tough. I just finished with Bach last week, which means the next stage includes composers like Mozart, Hayden, Beethoven and Schubert. This part of the journey excites me more than what preceded it, but I thought I should at least summarize my feelings thus far.

The initial recordings I listened to were by composers of the 1100s through the 1500s, and this was more out of curiosity than an expectation of truly enjoying the listening experience. From Hildegard, Dufay and Des Prez, to Palestrina and Tallis, none of the music is something I’d seek out again, but I was intrigued by some of the musical conventions of the time. For example, the scale Hildegard Von Bingen uses is generally mixolydian, but ever-so-often she inserts a major seventh and a minor second in the scale, giving it a flavor that’s a bit foreign to my ears, and likely yours as well.

Traveling a few centuries later, the music becomes more metered and more polyphonic, with distinct parts for bass, tenor, alto and soprano, and harmonic conventions begin to take shape – harmony which today seems rather mundane, but which at the time must have been quite trailblazing and perhaps even outlandish to some people’s ears. The piece I listened to from Palestrina from 1550 uses a lot of Vsus4 to V to I resolution, a convention which today sounds so common that it’s a little dull, but it works, and it must have worked beautifully at the time.

I then moved on the Monteverdi, considered the father of the opera, and listened to several movements of L’Orfeo from 1607. This offered the first piece of music that I genuinely liked: I found the “Ritornello” and its soprano aria (if indeed I’m getting my terms correct) truly gorgeous. The opera also offered some lovely trumpet and violin parts that almost sounded like the klezmer music that was to come out of Eastern Europe centuries later. But after listening to 20 minutes or so, I became uninterested in the basic harmonies – there were flashes, but not enough to return to the piece.

Similarly, the Vivaldi concerto I listened to was all very pleasant, but ultimately unfulfilling. It was Stravinsky three centuries later who is said to have quipped, “Vivaldi didn't write 400 concertos; he wrote one concerto 400 times.” I only listened to one, and it was fine, but I wouldn’t want to hear another 399 of them!

For Handel, I eschewed his compositions that I was already familiar with, and instead turned to his Ode for the Birthday of Queen Anne from 1713. Here I was quite taken with movement’s I and V, the former gorgeous and serene, and the latter movement in 3/4 delightful, with impressive vocal runs and prominent trumpet. I was less taken with two later pieces by Handel – Zodak the Priest and Ombra Mai Fu from the opera Serse. The latter is considered to be a measure of beauty rarely achieved in music, but for reasons unknown it didn’t reach me despite it being a very pretty piece. Zodak the Priest for me suffered from the bombastic quarter note accents, emphasized by the timpani, similar to sections for his Water Music and Royal Fireworks pieces that I find tiresome.

The remainder of my journey through the Baroque period centered on Bach, widely considered to be the genius from which all other composers sprouted. Aside from some obvious pieces that I’ve enjoyed through the years  (Prelude in C, minuets in G and G-minor, Sheep May Safely Graze) I’ve never gravitated toward his music, it being of a high contrapuntal nature and less devoted to melody, the musical component which has guided nearly all of my musical interests and aspirations since childhood. I was interested to see if my opinion might change through a more thorough examination of the master’s works.

For me, listening to parts of Bach’s major works – The Brandenburg Concertos, the Well-Tempered Clavier, The Goldberg Variations and The Art of the Fugue – I was more taken with Bach’s mastery of the form and the incredible musicianship exhibited in the recordings than the music itself, if that makes any sense. Hearing Rosalyn Tureck’s piano performance of the “C# Prelude” was awe-inspiring, as was Glen Gould’s playing of The Goldberg Variations. What players! But of course, what music as well, with shifting keys and flipping melodies and crazy-challenging runs of allegro sixteenth notes. And it all hangs together so well. I like moments for sure, perhaps even sections of these pieces, but listening for five minutes, ten minutes, and beyond, for me it all starts to sound similar, with sections meandering and no discernible melody to latch onto.

Now, I know full well that my inability to find the melody in these pieces is my own shortcoming, not Bach’s. Having been raised on Elton John, Paul McCartey and showtunes, the advanced counterpoint of Bach is not a natural fit for me. I was happy to hear some samples, and I would be happy to hear some again in small doses, but these long pieces are not my jam.

Of the Bach pieces I listened to, my favorites were movements one and four of The Art of the Fugue, largely because I listened to an orchestrated version of these pieces that were originally likely written for a keyboard instrument. Instead, I was directed to the Stuttgard Chamber orchestra’s take on this piece, and I think that part of my issue with enjoying works like The Well-Tempered Clavier and The Goldberg Variations is that I’m less drawn to piano solo music than orchestration, this despite being a piano player myself who once recorded a CD of original piano solos.

Go figure.

But I found section one of The Art of the Fugue to be beautiful as a string piece, and section four varied the melody and tempo just enough to keep my interest. Then, sadly, it waned as I listened to section 6. By this point I was looking at my watch and wondering if I could hear a palette cleanser of some melodic rock and roll!

Anyhow, that’s my journey so far, and I hope to summarize the next stage of my musical escapade in a month or two.