Haven't had as much time for blogging, since its the holidaze.
But I have been storing up songs, so you're in luck.
~*~
First, a song about Daisy's childhood. Yes, this is about MY MOTHER, and all those other mouthy beehive-hairdo white trash ladies of the 60s ... I miss yall so much. (And especially during the holidays, I always miss my mama terribly.)
In my lifetime, I have gone from embarrassment over this song (amazingly accurate, thought the 12-year-old me, how did Tom T. Hall KNOW THIS ABOUT US??????), to giggling-glee and pride, to tearful nostalgia. Its from another time. This could never happen now.
But hey, really: it used to happen. My mother was a bit more colorful in her language than ole Tom's lyrics could be in 1968.
A sentiment I have often had, about people I love... it was such a surprise to hear the same feelings come from a man.
Delightful, sweet and very honest.
I wish I was your mother - Mott the Hoople
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For you headbanging kidz, I remembered to bring the punk.
This song comes highly recommended; it once destroyed one of my friend's car speakers.
New Rose - The Damned
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Next up, a song about my husband's hometown:
Little Feat - Oh Atlanta
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Big finish!
Despite copious promises, I never have updated my old INSTRUMENTALS post, which continues to get hits from desperate music-lovers looking for the names of ancient, wordless tunes ... and so, as a consolation prize, here is a stunning instrumental tune you have probably heard many, many times, done with consummate class and finesse by Jeff Beck.
My very favorite version of the jazz classic first written and recorded by Charles Mingus in 1959.
Music history lesson: You will notice that the traditional "Little Sadie" shares some of the same lines from Johnny Cash's "Cocaine Blues"... the first song is ominous and haunting; the second song more whimsical and defiant.
Both versions are great.
Warnings for woman-killing, drugs, etc.
~*~
Little Sadie - Grateful Dead (acoustic, live in Austin, TX 2/23/70)
I miss my mama, who loved this song. I think she identified with the naughty girl in the song.
Warning: its PURE country, which means its pretty sexist. None of this nicey-nice American Idol-assimilated stuff!
Joe Maphis was very talented in the Chet Atkins-style, "thumb-picking guitar" that my stepfather also specialized in. (also described HERE) My parents also played this song in their band.
Nostalgic.
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Dim Lights, Thick Smoke (And Loud Loud Music) - Joe Maphis (1953)
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My tags tell me I've never blogged a Dire Straits song! Really?! ((shocked expression)) Corrected forthwith!
This is my favorite Dire Straits song. I love it whole bunches and have since I was 21 years old.
This is the legendary local Greer Opry House in downtown Greer, South Carolina. I took these back in October and forgot all about posting them--my apologies.
I heard this two weeks ago and it hasn't stopped torturing me yet.
My parents used to sing it. :)
Does anyone know who is harmonizing with her? Mandolin-player? What is the line-up of this particular band? SPEAK UP, DEADHEADS!
Emmylou Harris - If I could only win your love
EDIT: Eagle-eyed (eared?) reader, Blue Heron, spotted VINCE GILL on mandolin. I didn't know he could even play mandolin, but I did think it sounded like him on the last verse. THANK YOU!
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I have tried to post this for OVER FOUR YEARS--ever since I started blogging... usually I would find the video and it would get yanked by nightfall.
SO LISTEN NOW, before evil greedheads snatch it away again.
Greatest guitarist in the history of the world, his unique playing seemed to replicate the way emotions swirl in the heart. That's why we can't really say what it is about his work that moves us so much. It bypasses our critical centers and goes straight for that part of us that is most human.
After he sings the word, "anything"--he plays the CONCEPT of "anything" and what that feels like to us.
Jimi Hendrix - Little Wing
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This haunting song totally hypnotized me as a lovesick 18-year-old, and made me cry and everything. I had no idea what it was about, except it seemed that the narrator had escaped death or was contemplating it. From Wikipedia:
The third and final single [from the album "Stampede"] was Patrick Simmons' "I Cheat the Hangman", released November 12, 1975. It is a somber outlaw ballad that was inspired by the story "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge" by Ambrose Bierce. "It's about a ghost returning to his home after the Civil War and not realizing he's dead," said Simmons about the song. The album version of the song is a progressive rock-style composition ending in a twisted collage of strings, horns and synthesizers made to sound like ghostly wails. "We'd cut the track, and we kicked around how to develop the ending-I thought about synthesizers and guitar solos. Ted [Templeman] got to thinking about it, and he ran it past [arranger] Nick DeCaro for some orchestration ideas. 'Night on Bald Mountain' by Mussorgsky really inspired the wildness of the strings, and Nick came up with the chorale thing at the end." The ambitious "I Cheat the Hangman" only managed to reach #60 on the music charts.
Doobie Brothers - I Cheat the Hangman
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Last time I tried this one, also got yanked. LISTEN NOW.
Time for Steely Dan! (You know you can't go very long on DEAD AIR without encountering Steely Dan.)
Some wit on YouTube suggested that whoever doesn't like this song, should drink their big black cow and get out of here. I concur.
Steely Dan - Black Cow
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My late mama, whom I miss terribly, used to say (when profoundly disgusted with people she knew), "From now on, all my friends are gonna be strangers"... and that expression came from this song. She said it her whole life.
He has such a classically beautiful country-and-western voice.
Merle Haggard - (All my friends are gonna be) Strangers
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I know, we all love Bob Dylan, but after hearing this version, there simply is no other. (And I very much prefer JW's zinging electric blues-guitar to kazoos. Christ, what WAS he thinking?)
Yes, I think it can be EASily done... just take everything down to --
One of those things about age that makes me profoundly uncomfortable: I get sentimental very quickly.
Like, really sentimental.
It overtakes me suddenly, and there I am, shedding tears over seemingly peculiar, unrelated or odd events. Such as Ben Hall and his guitar playing. Which was just like my late stepfather's. (Note: although the outdated link claims Ben is 18, he has now reached the ripe old age of 22.)
Until I was sitting there listening to Ben, whom I hadn't heard before, I didn't realize I had unconsciously avoided the music of Chet Atkins for a reason... I was suddenly aware that the "thumb-picking" guitar-style of Ben's, was the same as my stepfather's. I have avoided it for many years, flipped radio channels and such, because it made me so emotional. And as Ben described his style of playing, I thought, oh no... because I probably would have avoided his fabulous guitar playing if I had known.
I listened, and promptly got all teary-eyed and emotional. It is so embarrassing, reminding me of a line from Colonel Kurtz in Apocalypse Now: "I cried like some grandmother." Yeah, I guess he means me. I have arrived!
Does any music do that to you?
Here is Ben's playing, the signature thumb-pickin style.
Cannonball Rag - Ben Hall
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This song is as old as I am, seriously... careful, its about death, and way before the Doors made drowning at night sound sexy and existential.
I can hardly believe its taken me this long to post it!
Endless Sleep - Jody Reynolds
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And speaking of the Doors, here is the 60s version of drowning for fun:
Moonlight Drive - The Doors
Let's swim to the moon Let's climb through the tide Penetrate the evening that the City sleeps to hide Let's swim out tonight, love It's our turn to try Parked beside the ocean On our moonlight drive
Let's swim to the moon Let's climb through the tide Surrender to the waiting worlds That lap against our side
Nothing left open And no time to decide We've stepped into a river On our moonlight drive
~*~
Sorry so morbid, but its been a rather morbid week in America, yes? ;)
Is everyone having an excellent start to the weekend? If you need some musical accompaniment, you've come to the right place.
Currently, I am preparing for our trip to Charlotte for HeroesCon... unfortunately, it will be even hotter tomorrow than it is now. Hydration! Packing extra kombucha and Tramadol.
Maybe I'll even meet up with my Blogdonia heroine and alter ego, Fanboy Wife. Perhaps we should have some kind of 12-Step meeting while we're there, modeled on Al-Anon: Are you married to a Fanboy? Chances are, you're as addicted to sick behavior as he is!
NO, NO, I refuse to believe it! Denial, denial!
PS: It's been awhile since I've shared my earworms, so here you go.
~*~
I recently heard this gem on our local wonder-station, WPCI-AM, and I've been hearing it in my head ever since. Just beautiful!
Passion Play - Joni Mitchell
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This one also comes courtesy of WPCI... Good Lord, will you listen to this woman SING?! I have no idea how old this tune is, but it sounds ancient... raw and unglossed. Lovelovelove!
A Fool in Love - Ike and Tina Turner
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I was worried, the last time I posted a song by Journey, that I'd jeopardized my musical cred... and whaddaya know, Journey's been rehabbed! Tony Soprano, we owe him.
This is what is known as a "power ballad" (did Journey actually invent the power ballad?), and if I hear it just once, these lovely intertwining riffs stay lodged in my head for weeks.
Weeks, I tell you.
Send her my love - Journey
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This song has plagued me since the death of my father in late April; I'm hoping once I post it here, it will stop continuously haunting me.
Lots of people prefer the original by John Prine, who wrote it... but I am partial to the version by the Man in Black.
Paradise - Johnny Cash
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A great song about a drug dealer, although some have posited that it's actually about capitalism and bosses (Joe Strummer was red to the end). How fascinating that they are interchangeable!
Quite simply, some of the tightest rock music ever recorded.
Hateful - The Clash
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Mimi Farina wrote this song about Janis Joplin, upon hearing of her passing in 1970... it was recorded by her sister, Joan Baez, in 1972.
Great photos of Janis in the video.
In the Quiet Morning - Joan Baez
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You knew it was time for Steely Dan again, right? I tried to stay on topic about the economy and the budget and everything. ;)
Great graphics!
Black Friday - Steely Dan
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As Charlie Daniels used to say, Time to Get Loud, Children. Starting at about 2:25, this boogies so hard, it will knock the mud right off your boots.
And check out Mary Huff's outfit, I MUST get one. (My late mama had that exact hairdo, exact color.)
Southern Culture on the Skids - White Trash/Greenback Fly
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James McMurtry played Asheville recently, and I am told the entire audience knew all the words. (Well, of course they did.) I was fortunate enough to hear this performed live a few years ago, in a venue fulla rednecks jumping up and down. At the time, I realized, this was a quintessential southern moment, so it isn't surprising that "Choctaw Bingo" has turned into a southern anthem, of sorts.
Ann and Lynn come down from Baxter Springs That's one hell raisin town way up in Southeastern Kansas Got a biker bar next to the lingerie store That's got them Rolling Stones lips up there in bright pink neon And they're right downtown where everyone can see em And they burn all night you know they burn all night you know they burn all night
And yes, you really should listen to all 8+ minutes, if you want the whole Choctaw Bingo experience. It's actually far better live, with raucous yelling and jumping-redneck accompaniment, but I could not locate a good live version, so going with the studio rendition for now.
Driving down Woodruff Road this morning, I got a new round of nasty honked-horns, merely because I took a few extra seconds to turn left. I am WELL AWARE of the reason for this, since it never used to happen. And you know what? Even if I *am* personally pissed off at our president, I'll be goddamned if I let some redneck [1] bullies force me into taking my ANOTHER MAMA FOR OBAMA bumper sticker off my car. I recently added a Lone Star flag sticker, which I hope makes them think I'm packing (since everybody in Texas is)... MAYBE I'll get some fucking peace.
This has been making me more and more angry.
It has happened maybe a dozen times now. I don't know when, but at some point, I am gonna lose my shit and we will have a full-fledged road-rage incident on our hands. Your mild-mannered, humble narrator will morph into an insane Irish yankee bitch, right before their surprised eyes; I'll leap madly out of my tiny, plucky Saturn and get all up in their face. Then, the Obama-haters (who probably *are* packing) will shoot me and it will all be on Court TV.[2] The lawyers will produce my bumper stickers and blog as evidence of dangerous radical activity, and (this being the Palmetto State!) the accused will have all charges dismissed immediately (and will possibly even be canonized by Nikki Haley!)... In fact, the defendants will probably be offered a reality-TV show: Death to the libs! ...in which they drive randomly about the land, shooting people with the wrong (liberal) bumper stickers. It will be a BIG HIT.
I probably exaggerate. Probably. Maybe.
~*~
While driving, I was listening to classic country on WOLT-FM. And it struck me that the hopped-up young turks honking derisively at me are probably listening to evil, unAmerican, urban hip-hop, and wouldn't know good redneck music if it bit them in the ass. But isn't it interesting that these upwardly-mobile young people borrow the styles, cars, attitude, entertainments and music of the urban liberal classes, yet retain such backward politics? What's up with that? (More about this in an upcoming post I am working on, about the tea party and gay marriage.)
And right before the redneck honking commenced, I was listening to Jim Reeves, dubbed Gentleman Jim for whatever reason, whom my mother never liked. She didn't think "crooning" belonged in country music. Me neither, but when I hear his records now, I feel as old as God (in a good way) and can't turn them off. It's a particular type of music that has totally passed on, like Tin Pan Alley, British Invasion, Big Band... (sigh)
And this brings me to the end of my eventful journey today! I was going to... ugh... the doctor.
~*~
Mandatory yearly TMI segment, with gory medical details.
It's been awhile since we discussed gruesome medical procedures here at DEAD AIR. (Probably because I haven't been to the dentist since my horrific gum surgery.) Alas, just like our cars, bodily MAINTENANCE is often required, and today (TMI, turn back now) I had a sebaceous cyst removed by an earnest, young, bright-eyed dermatologist who duly outlined my "options" in cyst removal.
I wanted to tell him, dude, back in the day, doctors didn't bother to tell us squat, and just started to work. (And if you asked questions, they might even tell you to shut up until they were done.) Not these days... they have gotten the memo, and the bright-eyed young physicians want you to know things. They tell you all about your cysts. When I asked to look at it, he showed it to me. It looked like a large kernel of corn (exact shape of one!), but all bloody red. (It looked to have it's own blood supply, which is pretty Cronenbergian.) The procedure was called a PUNCH BIOPSY... you know, like a HOLE PUNCH on your job? Saints preserve us.
Do I really need to tell you WHERE this awful thing was located on my body? Yes, the worst place. Buried in cellulite, I am surprised he could find it at all. Lucky for me, it was all swelled up and BIG, so it probably called right out to him: HERE I AM, DOC! And he punched a hole, right in my ass.
Thinking idly about this, whilst the good doctor worked on my derriere, I thought of the movie line, "The Bailey family's been a boil on my neck long enough!"--growled out by the immortal Lionel Barrymore in IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE. Barrymore delivers the line perfectly, in his fabulous rumbling baritone, but I've often thought it could have been much improved if the word was ASS... The Bailey family's been a boil on my ass long enough!--but that was 1946, and you weren't allowed to jazz up a script in such a fashion. [3] But I would loved to have heard old Lionel snarl out that line instead.
And so, here I am, waiting for the butt-novacaine to wear off, at which time I likely WON'T be sitting on a hard chair. ;) I bought a Mocha Frappuccino to cheer me up while I wait!
Trying to finish a number of posts in the meantime. The great thing about finally having low blog stats again? I can write anything I want and nobody is reading... and I can add some classic country too!
Enjoy, you crazy kidz!
~*~
NOTES:
[1] As a redneck, I can use this word, but you can't.
[2] I know, I know, we are supposed to call it truTV now, but that sounds dorky and stupid, and I hereby refuse.
I always wonder who got paid (and how much?) to come up with something as thoroughly dopey as "truTV"? (Which tells you exactly nothing about the court system or what type of legal programming the network specializes in!)
I hope the people at (the former) Court TV, understand that they was had.
[3] I often think about old movies that bore such language restrictions, when the situation and characters cry out for some limited but pointed cussing. For instance, Jeffrey Hunter and John Wayne should have cussed each other out a bunch of times in THE SEARCHERS, but of course, that was 54 years ago and simply not done.
I find it fascinating that a profusion of nasty words like "half-breed" and other racial insults *were* allowable, while simply calling someone a self-absorbed asshole was not.
~*~
You younguns will recognize this song as the inspiration for the amusing HBO show, Eastbound and Down, but older folks still associate it with the 70s movie, Smokey and the Bandit. (And it's where we get today's blog post title.)
Eastbound and Down - Jerry Reed
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I grew up with this song, since every country and western band, including my mother's, was required to learn it. Truck-drivers considered it THEIRS and requested it every night. I love how it illustrates a whole mythology/culture around truck-driving.
Recorded back in 1963, you'd never hear "I'm taking little white pills and my eyes are open wide" in a country song ever again...
Six Days on the Road - Dave Dudley
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She's Got You - Patsy Cline
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Before I'm Over You - Loretta Lynn
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You MUST HEAR Loretta belt out "Mississippi MAAAAAAN" in this song. Legendarily-amazing pipes!
Louisiana Woman, Mississippi Man - Loretta Lynn And Conway Twitty
I haven't had as much time to blog, because I've actually started hiking again. I started slow, and I am now up to about an hour and a half before I completely collapse. My beloved azaleas are in bloom, and it's a beautiful spring!
My goal is to someday be able to climb a real mountain again. At this admittedly-slow rate, it will be at least another year, but I am fervently hoping for next spring/summer... and I promise if I ever again get to the top of Table Rock, I will take oodles of photos for DEAD AIR--so you will all believe me!
~*~
As I said in this post (fabulous music awaits you at the link), the kids used to ask me the names of songs... but yesterday, I had to ask one of them. As you all know, it is impossible to Google lyrics from an instrumental song, since they have no lyrics. (sigh) Stranded, desolate and desperate... the pretty music plays on and on and you can't ever find it again. One 60s-era instrumental arrangement, in particular, has been haunting me for several months now. Upon hearing it again, I scurried over to the work-area of said young person, who then held his handy-dandy iPhone up to the speaker broadcasting my long-lost tune. Held the phone up, said the old lady, amazed...do you believe that shit?
Answer, within about 10 seconds: Cleo's Mood, by Junior Walker and the All Stars. (I have helpfully provided the long-lost song for you below. You knew I would.)
And that's what I mean about becoming obsolete. My musical memory is certainly no match for an iPhone application! Somehow, it makes me feel sad and exhilarated, all at once. I guess this is how the old mule skinner felt when he saw the Model-T Ford: Wow.
Just for that, adding Muleskinner Blues to our mix. (Just listen to her hit them high notes!!!)
~*~
Believe it or not, it was once considered pretty radical stuff for a woman to sing this song. (Notice she is careful to say she is a lady mule skinner.) Typically, Dolly takes a classic male song (about a male occupation!) and makes it totally her own, singing it far better than any man, with that Tennessee-wildcat soprano of hers. I've always loved this!
And for the record: It does not get more country than this, so if you don't like country music, do not listen. Really.
Mule Skinner Blues - Dolly Parton
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My long-lost Motown instrumental! Brought to you by... the wonders of modern technology!
(Is this the coolest thing you ever heard or what?)
Cleo's Mood - Junior Walker and the All Stars
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Last, but not least.
I grew up with this song, and I always think of it when any coal-miner is hurt. Dedicated to the miners in West Virginia, and their families; I'm sure lots of people are thinking about these words right now... and my prayers are with them.
Dark as a Dungeon (written by Merle Travis)
Oh come all you young fellers so young and so fine
Seek not your fortune in a dark dreary mine
It'll form as a habit and seep in your soul
Till the stream of your blood runs as black as the coal
Well it's many a man that I've seen in my day
Who lived just to labor his whole life away
Like a fiend with his dope and a drunkard his wine
A man will have lust for the lure of the mine
Where it's dark as a dungeon and damp as the dew
Where the danger is double and pleasures are few
Where the rain never falls and the sun never shines
It's a dark as a dungeon way down in the mine
And pray when I'm gone and my ages shall roll
That my body would blacken and turn into coal
Then I'll look from the door of my heavenly home
And pity the miners digging my bones
Where it's dark as a dungeon and damp as the dew
Where the danger is double and pleasures are few
Where the rain never falls and the sun never shines
It's a dark as a dungeon way down in the mine
From the now-forgotten movie HOT ROD GANG (1958), this is the amazing Gene Vincent, who was simply too fabulous for mere words.
Apparently, "Baby Blue" was co-written by local legend Country Earl, and I never knew until last night! (He still makes a few hundred dollars a year from it, he said.) Country Earl's local restaurant in Simpsonville is colloquially known as Country Earl's Chompin and Stompin (rules: no drinking, no smoking and no cussing).
And if you are lucky enough to listen to Country Earl's classic-country radio show on WOLT-FM every Sunday night, then you already KNOW you are one of the luckiest souls on planet Earth.
~*~
Baby Blue - Gene Vincent and the Blue Caps (1958)
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Race with the Devil - Gene Vincent and the Blue Caps (1956)
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Be-Bop-A-Lula - Gene Vincent and the Blue Caps (1958)
One of the great treasures of upstate South Carolina is WPCI-AM, 1490 on your radio dial. I used to jokingly call it Audiodrome (after Cronenberg's Videodrome), since I had no idea where it came from. One day, I was fiddling with the AM radio dial and heard "China Cat Sunflower" clear as anything. What? Huh? I left it there, and it was followed by Jimmy Buffett, assorted reggae, oldies, jazz and classic country. Nobody said anything. No commercials. What the devil---?
Every now and then (as mandated by law), someone authoritatively announced "WPCI, the quality alternative"...and so I looked it up. Of course, it had no website either, no playlist (which I still wish was available!)... and at that time, there was no Wikipedia entry, no local media sources available to tell me where this magical WPCI came from. So, I just kept calling it Audiodrome.
Eventually, I learned that one Mr Randy Mathena owned WPCI, and just played his own records. Is that cool or what? (And how many of us diehard music fans have had that fantasy?):
Five and a half years ago, a dream came true for the Mathena family. Paper Cutters Inc. proprietor, and Furman University Grad, Randy Mathena, owner and operator of WPCI 1490 AM, left the business news broadcasting world behind, and switched to a non-commercial format, with a non-stop play list of over 10,000 songs. The only voices heard are FCC mandated interruptions every thirty minutes supplying call letter identifications. This all music format has put WPCI on the Greenville map, with a rapidly rising fan base. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week you can hear everything from reggae, jazz, soft-rock, and even classic rock. It is the first of its kind, a commercially licensed station that plays no commercials and whose mission is just that; to play nothing but music.
[...]
It was during college at Furman University where Randy Mathena first learned of his love for radio. Working at the university’s station Randy learned all he could about radio and had always sought after buying a station for himself. Randy set out looking for a station to prove to himself it wasn’t possible. That’s when he found WMRC, a station that was black and waiting for someone to come along and save it. In buying WMRC it was up to Randy to rename the station and claim the four acre plot of land that housed the station. His first two choices, WRMB for rhythm and blues, and WBCH for beach, were taken, so the station was named WPCI for Paper Cutters Inc. WPCI began with business radio until 5 ½ years ago when it’s all music format was ready to begin. With 10,000 songs non-stop, Randy has created a station unlike any other.
Nestled on four acres in Greenville, South Carolina’s West End district, WPCI 1490 AM currently operates at 1 Kilowatt. The newly renovated cherry wood building lies adjacent to the Reedy River downtown. The completed renovations coincide with the rebuilding of downtown Greenville and the historic West End, which is generating even more conversation about WPCI in the community.
Playing an eclectic variety of music, ranging from bluegrass to reggae and rock to R&B, this format has won high marks from Jimmy Cornelison, a journalist at Greenville News. A simple, yet extremely meaningful, “thank you”, Cornelison wishes to extend to Mathena for providing an alternative outlet for music fans with no commercials. WPCI was recently ranked 16 th out of the 36 South Carolina’s upstate stations. For no commercials, no profit, relying solely upon word of mouth, this is one of the greatest achievements WPCI has accomplished. Before any awards or recognitions, Mathena explains that he has fulfilled his dream and mission, “I bought the station for exactly what it’s doing today. That was the goal from day one; to play music. It is a dream come true. The dream of continuous music was not just Mathena’s, but rather the listeners’ dream as well 4. The unique format and Mathena’s passion for music made the choice clear for the [now-defunct, weekly newspaper] Greenville Beat to name WPCI 1490 as the best AM station in the upstate.
I hope that someday, a brave little website containing the elusive and ever-sought title/artist play-list will be available, because I do love WPCI and I feel the lack. Until this happens, I'll continue to scratch random lyrics on a pad of paper and look up the songs up later.
A small price to pay for continuous music, some of it almost forgotten, but timelessly marvelous.
I think it's vaguely creepy how Blogger features birthday cake today when I log in. You're a BOT, dude!
Thanks to all my Twitter friends who wished me a happy birthday when I threatened to become hysterical! I love you!
Below: stuff that makes me feel particularly old, in no special order.
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If you are drinking heavily and/or involved with bikers, this is a great break-up song. Famous guitar riffs at the end (by the late Duane Allman), sound just like a whip. WALLOW IN THAT PAIN, people!
Whipping Post - Allman Brothers Band
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Speaking of Twitter, there is hashtag titled #Iwish, and I bet them whippersnappers don't even know where that came from.
Turn it up!
I Wish - Stevie Wonder
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One of those songs that when you search for it on YouTube, you get every single damn amateur troubadour from here to Luckenbach, thinks he can sing it.
We received our education in the cities of the nation...
Me and Paul - Willie Nelson
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Montage of early Who clips. Roger had not yet discovered his trademark flashy Elvis-on-acid outfits, and sometimes appears as if he had just emerged from bad job interview. (He shows his incipient fashion sense at approx 1:02, dons sunglasses.) John, age 21, looks about 14; Keith Moon was all of 19 years old, appears 12. Pete was working on his pseudo-alienated, "I'm too good for mere rock and roll" major artiste pose, which would serve him very well throughout his life.
Check out those 60s mods and their strange amphetamine-inspired dance moves!
Here's what I am listening to today. Join in, if you're of a mind to!
Hopefully, these will last. But YouTube is so busy removing videos, they could possibly be extinct by later in the week. If they are, I apologize in advance.
...
Okay, who among you knew that the Hill Street Blues TV-theme was written by Larry Carlton, the session musician who delivers the killer-guitar work in Don't Take Me Alive? (What did we ever do without Wikipedia?) And despite what you hear, it is "Bookkeeper's son," not "Poolkeeper's son." (Decades of arguments, once again, finally settled by the internet!)
I looooove this song, decided I would play it since it's about blowing people up and therefore sorta fits in with the whole morbidity/responsibility theme of this past week.
Here in this darkness I know what I've done I know all at once who I am
Don't Take Me Alive - Steely Dan
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This incredible song has multiple chord/tempo/melody changes, zoom de zoom, zippity do dah, all in ... two minutes. Two. Minutes.
How the hell did they do this in two minutes?
This is, one presumes, how they got to be The Beatles.
Wait - The Beatles
~*~
This might be the greatest thing I ever heard, and 40 years later, let's hear the band that can sound this good!
Iggy 4-ever, as I used to write on the cover of my loose-leaf binders... my heart still jumps at the sound of the first few bars, and those bizarre noises he is making. :) (RIP Ron Asheton)
Down on the Street - The Stooges (w/Iggy Pop)
~*~
I discovered through my endless snooping that my 2nd husband is on his parish's prayer list. I confess, I would like to know why. Am I worried? Well, yes, no, maybe. You know the tangle of emotions you have when you discover something online about an ex, and up bubbles all that guilt, anger, remorse, all those juicy feelings.
Do I hope he's okay? Well, no.
Do I want him to suffer? Well, no.
You can see the dilemma, then.
(Not sure what I think of the video; first time I've ever seen it. Does beating a black man at billiards automatically make George "bad"--or is it the attitude?)
Bad to the Bone - George Thorogood and the Destroyers
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Classic country time--with even more astounding Wikipedia revelations: Jessi Colter was married to Duane Eddy before she was married to Waylon Jennings! I had NO IDEA!
A shot of Waylon gets deposited at the end of this video, although I always thought his eyes were brown. Aren't they? (So, who exactly was she looking for?)
I have guilt over not including Jessi in my Diva round-up in June.
I'm Looking for Blue Eyes - Jessi Colter
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And so, I now include Jessi's husbands out of respect. (I should have included Duane in my Instrumental Oldies post, but will try to catch him on part 2.)
Detour - Duane Eddy
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Jessi heard Waylon's golden pipes and just went OOOOOOOooooooOOOOOHHHHHHHhhhh....at least I assume it was like that.
I've been pretty busy this week, and consequently, ain't got nothing but some oldies. I know you kids just love that stuff! :P
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Trivia time: How many of you knew that Dionne is Whitney Houston's aunt? I think their voices are very similar, but of course, we know who is first and best.
Walk on by - Dionne Warwick
Speaking of voices, this voice always made me swoon. (You can see Johnny Cash playing guitar in the background.)
I very nearly named my daughter after this song, but I somehow knew that she'd get pissed at me over being named for a country song. (Note: I was right.)
Amanda - Waylon Jennings
The Partridge Family TV-show was based on this band, The Cowsills, also a family. This song is a real gem! I don't mind telling you I think it's one of the best and sweetest pop songs of the 60s! (The ersatz singing TV-family never even came close.)
Trivia: Little Susan Cowsill was 9 years old, making her the youngest singer to sing on a top-ten song to date (1967). I was Susan's age, and wanted so badly to be her!
The Rain, The Park And Other Things - The Cowsills
I was upset that this song was used in JACKIE BROWN for the scene where Samuel L. Jackson pulls into a junkyard with a dead body in his trunk. Honestly, does Quentin Tarantino have to ruin EVERY damn thing? Certainly, I would have used the song for some sexy, steamy scene.
Quincy Jones, producer, made this sound super-pretty and dazzling; an aural cotton-candy confection. I'm sure it was quite the disappointment when performed in person! (Although you must admit: the outer space jumpsuits really make the song, too!)
Sign reads: Local peaches on right! (Only a dullard could resist.)
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Still recovering at home, against my will. I have assorted documentation and will therefore get paid anyway, so that is something. No thanks to anti-labor Republicans!
I have debated blogging over my current disaster. But the fact is, it's embarrassing. I'll let you all guess: What is the first sign of getting old? What happens to old ladies, like clockwork? If you guess right, I'll fess up. Pretty shoddy of me, since I like to think I am Big Disability Rights Advocate Womyn!!! Ha, well, I guess not when it's ME, and some rather predictable old-lady thing. But that's how it works, yes? You don't get to choose these things yourself.
Onward, with the linkage, and your required reading/listening.
My contention is and has always been that country music and urban music are the fun-house mirror reflections of each other–both share many of the same themes: deep pride in where one is from cut through with a strain of shame and anger about the circumstances one came from; a definition of manliness based in sexual prowess; a fascination with violence and guns; deep pride and anger about being outside of the mainstream; a definition of womanhood that is either based on very traditional notions of femininity or on being able to out-man the men; a love of vehicles; drinking; honoring tradition; and Mama.
And it’s no surprise to see them dancing around each other while very rarely crossing over. You can count the successful, respected white rappers on one hand, and use the other hand to count the successful, black country singers.
I bring all this up because I want to make a point about what country music means in terms of its racial focus and make-up. Country music is not usually “white” music. It’s traditionally specifically for white people who are outside of the mainstream, but who believe themselves to be some kind of bearer of Truth, some authentic experience unavailable to most folks, who are not “regular” folks.
In other words, it’s music of “regular” white people, but white folks who, in claiming regularity are claiming that in opposition to what most white folks have.
This kind of writing is why I am now addicted to Aunt B's blog!
Speaking of disability activism, check out Crip Chick's post on Sins Invalid, particularly the attractive and riveting Rodney Bell (first clip). Oh my!
When such people exist, why do they give reality TV shows to increasingly uninteresting, boring clones? I ask you: Where is Rodney's show????
If there is no event in your city, you could start your own. Here in the most conservative county in the USA, folks usually just meet over coffee and talk about books, blogs, and community--but that is something.
And it means, as always, passing the important knowledge on. And on.
Many conservatives—particularly lower-income ones—are consumed with elemental fury about everything from immigration to liberal do-gooders. They take their opinions from talk-radio hosts such as Rush Limbaugh and the deeply unsubtle Sean Hannity. And they regard Mrs Palin’s apparent ignorance not as a problem but as a badge of honour.
Another reason is the degeneracy of the conservative intelligentsia itself, a modern-day version of the 1970s liberals it arose to do battle with: trapped in an ideological cocoon, defined by its outer fringes, ruled by dynasties and incapable of adjusting to a changed world. The movement has little to say about today’s pressing problems, such as global warming and the debacle in Iraq, and expends too much of its energy on xenophobia, homophobia and opposing stem-cell research.
Conservative intellectuals are also engaged in their own version of what Julian Benda dubbed la trahison des clercs, the treason of the learned. They have fallen into constructing cartoon images of “real Americans”, with their “volkish” wisdom and charming habit of dropping their “g”s. Mrs Palin was invented as a national political force by Beltway journalists from the Weekly Standard and the National Review who met her when they were on luxury cruises around Alaska, and then noisily championed her cause.
I wondered where they got her from. CRUISES! Well, this explains plenty.
Hmph! Just when you think your childhood was the weirdest of em all, someone comes along and OUTDOES you.
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During my endless convalescence, my (never that solid) sanity has been saved by streaming the wonderful RadioIO. (Although hearing the late Porter Wagoner's "The Rubber Room" was a rather bizarre experience.) I was inordinately pleased to hear Robin Trower's "Too Rolling Stoned" after about 30 years. If you are up for over 7 minutes of psychedelic gee-tar, blowing your little mind (and certainly, I have nowhere else to go, dunno about yourself!)--please check it out... if you can't dig the first minute, as Queen Emily might say, you are rubbish! :P
And if you rock out to the whole thing? Go, my child, and sin no more. You've been redeemed!
Although country music is considered a conservative genre, there have always been women who challenged the status quo. The first on my list would be the amazing Wanda Jackson, properly known as the Queen of Rockabilly.
Wanda Jackson - Hard-headed Woman
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If you saw the film Coal-Miner's Daughter, you know this song is the truth, and 13-year-old Loretta Webb started having babies almost immediately after her marriage to Doolittle Lynn (known as Mooney, for running moonshine). He cheated on her fairly openly, even once while she gave birth to one of their six children (four of these born before she was 18 years old). Loretta and Mooney fought in full view of everyone, usually with fists: "He never hit me one time that I didn’t hit him back twice," Loretta was frequently quoted as saying.
This song, recorded as late as 1975, was nonetheless banned on country radio stations. The lyrics, by TD Bayless, are too good not to reproduce here:
You wined me and dined me When I was your girl Promised if I'd be your wife You'd show me the world But all I've seen of this old world Is a bed and a doctor bill I'm tearin down your brooder house Cause now I've got the pill
All these years I've stayed at home While you had all your fun And every year thats gone by Another baby's come There's a gonna be some changes made Right here on nursery hill You've set this chicken your last time Cause now I've got the pill
This old maternity dress I've got Is goin in the garbage The clothes I'm wearin from now on Won't take up so much yardage
Miniskirts, hot pants and a few little fancy frills Yeah I'm makin up for all those years Since I've got the pill
I'm tired of all your crowin How you and your hens play While holdin a couple in my arms Another's on the way This chicken's done tore up her nest And I'm ready to make a deal And ya can't afford to turn it down Cause you know I've got the pill
This incubator is overused Because you've kept it filled The feelin good comes easy now Since I've got the pill
It's gettin dark, it's roostin time Tonight's too good to be real Oh but daddy don't you worry none Cause mama's got the pill
Oh daddy don't you worry none Cause mama's got the pill
More true stories... the incendiary marriage of the late Tammy Wynette and George Jones was also quite legendary in country music. Although known for singing (and co-authoring) Stand by your Man, at one point, Tammy had enough standing by George. (In fact, she had five husbands in all.)
In this song, she warns him she is gonna go out and party just like the women he seems to prefer. (And she backed it up, too, publicly beginning a relationship with 70s icon Burt Reynolds.)
Tammy Wynette - Your Good Girl's gonna go bad
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And the best for last! My mother sang this song in her band, and I can remember her rehearsing it when I was three or four years old; it was originally recorded in 1952 and has been recorded countless times since. The line, "It's a shame that all the blame is on us women" impacted me even as a child; it was the song that gave me my earliest heads-up. I listened carefully to the lessons given in the song, which also has the distinction of being the first Billboard #1 country song by a woman.
Kitty Wells recorded this song as an "answer song" to Hank Thompson's "The Wild Side of Life"--wherein Hank preaches self-righteously to the woman who left him:
I didn't know God made honky tonk angels I might have known you'd never make a wife You gave up the only one that ever loved you And went back to the wild side of life
The glamour of the gay night life has lured you To the places where the wine and liquor flow Where you wait to be anybody's baby And forget the truest love you'll ever know
Nashville-native Kitty Wells wasn't having any. These lyrics (by JD Miller) constitute her pointed reply to Hank. Most country-music historians agree that it was probably the first time a large number of women bought a record that their husbands didn't like, establishing a fan-base that they didn't even realize existed.
As I sit here tonight the jukebox playin The tune about the wild side of life As I listen to the words you are sayin It brings memories when I was a trusting wife
It wasn't God who made Honky Tonk angels As you said in the words of your song Too many times married men think they're still single That has caused many a good girl to go wrong
It's a shame that all the blame is on us women It's not true that only you men feel the same From the start most every heart that's ever broken Was because there always was a man to blame
It wasn't God who made Honky Tonk angels As you said in the words of your song Too many times married men think they're still single That has caused many a good girl to go wrong
Kitty Wells - It Wasn't God Who Made Honky-Tonk Angels
I hope yall enjoy these. They all mean a lot to me! (Cross posted at Feministe)
