Dear God,
If you let this happen, I promise to be really, really, really good forever more and never be bad again. I promise to make my bed every morning, not leave my bike lying on the front lawn any more or ever again put a four day old dead puffer fish in my sister's bed. I am sorry about that, God. I take back everything I said about you.
Promise with a cherry on top.
Friday, September 30, 2005
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Alt.Country: A Manifesto
Crossposted at HickoryWind.
I read something the other day that referred to Dale Watson as "alt.country." I have been trending hostile to this concept for a while, and this was the last straw.
I have some things to say.
1. Dale Watson sings straight down the line honky tonk. Close your eyes and it's 1956. He out Bucks Buck. He is so twang he makes Merle look like a '80s Belgian industrial dance act. Couple of guitars, drums, pedal steel. Songs about cheating, drinking and cheating while drinking. For god's sake, he recorded a whole album about trucks. There is nothing alt about his country.
2. Just because something doesn't make CMT, doesn't mean you can call it alt.country.
3. Theoretically, I like alot of alt.country. M.Ward, The Handsome Family, Lambchop. I appreciate the figleaf of Hip as much as the next socially inept nerd. Uncut and No Depression tell me I should like them. I want to like them. In reality, they bore me senseless. Where is the passion, the mongrel, the blood and tears? If these guys were any wetter you'd stock up on bottled water and Snickers and have to evacuate.
4. The whispering. They whisper the words. Unless your name is Bill Anderson, there should be no whispering in country music. Same goes for mumbling. Country voices should cut through. Rip it up, don't blend in.
5. If you are going to use irony in a country song, you'd better have a damn good excuse.
6. Two words: trucker caps.
7. Can I blame Gram Parsons for some of this? Not sure. I'd like to. He gets more than his fair share of credit these days, so it only seems right.
8. Plaid shirts, thick black rimmed glasses, stupid facial hair and looking perpetually depressed. Stop it.
9. Whatever the question was, "lo-fi" was the wrong answer.
10. Melody is not a dirty word.
Thank you. That is all.
For now.
I read something the other day that referred to Dale Watson as "alt.country." I have been trending hostile to this concept for a while, and this was the last straw.
I have some things to say.
1. Dale Watson sings straight down the line honky tonk. Close your eyes and it's 1956. He out Bucks Buck. He is so twang he makes Merle look like a '80s Belgian industrial dance act. Couple of guitars, drums, pedal steel. Songs about cheating, drinking and cheating while drinking. For god's sake, he recorded a whole album about trucks. There is nothing alt about his country.
2. Just because something doesn't make CMT, doesn't mean you can call it alt.country.
3. Theoretically, I like alot of alt.country. M.Ward, The Handsome Family, Lambchop. I appreciate the figleaf of Hip as much as the next socially inept nerd. Uncut and No Depression tell me I should like them. I want to like them. In reality, they bore me senseless. Where is the passion, the mongrel, the blood and tears? If these guys were any wetter you'd stock up on bottled water and Snickers and have to evacuate.
4. The whispering. They whisper the words. Unless your name is Bill Anderson, there should be no whispering in country music. Same goes for mumbling. Country voices should cut through. Rip it up, don't blend in.
5. If you are going to use irony in a country song, you'd better have a damn good excuse.
6. Two words: trucker caps.
7. Can I blame Gram Parsons for some of this? Not sure. I'd like to. He gets more than his fair share of credit these days, so it only seems right.
8. Plaid shirts, thick black rimmed glasses, stupid facial hair and looking perpetually depressed. Stop it.
9. Whatever the question was, "lo-fi" was the wrong answer.
10. Melody is not a dirty word.
Thank you. That is all.
For now.
So the Bob thing was on the 7.30 Report last night, not Wednesday. My intelligence was flawed, very topical of me. Transcript.
Actual country music content coming soon!
Actual country music content coming soon!
Monday, September 26, 2005
NDH 1: A Musical Whatawhosary?
I think I will break up my gushing on No Direction Home into a few posts, I have some personal time constraints at the mo (this is being done in the part of my detailed time management plan marked "extended procrastination." Why fight it?) and the film sprawls out in a million different directions.
Today, the supporting players.
The most notable thing maybe is: Joan Baez didn't make me want to scratch my eyes out.
In fact, she is funny, gracious and interesting. She does a very good expletive-laden impersonation of young Bobby. Also, seeing Bob talk about her, it's sort of cryptic but sort of awkwardly embarrassed which he isn't about any other topic (see: larceny, below). So Joan, your reward is that I promise not to get such a thrill of satisfaction anymore whenever I listen to Bootleg Vol 6 Live 1964 and hear how Bobby sings whatever random lyrics he likes with you trying to trill along. He does rather hang you out to dry, doesn't he? Well, I promise not to find that so cool anymore. Promise!
Producer Bob Johnstone is all southern and kinda wacky ("Anyone can see he's got the Holy Spirit in him!") and Al Kooper and Bruce Langhorne are extremely cool in that unique aging hippy muso way. Kooper looks like he hasn't quite come to terms with accidentaly being part of the Greatest Song In The History of Rock and Roll. Like, dude, he still can't believe they let him play that organ that one day.
There are assorted others whose names I know, many from reading David Hadju's excellent Positively Fourth St book, such as Folklore Center proprieter Izzy Young. There are some weird little cameos too, like Art Mogull, a classic Broadway shyster type, interviewed next to a boxing ring, happily claiming credit for launching Dylan's career.
And others whose names you might know if you've read all the books: Tony Glover, John Cohen, Maria Muldaur, Dick Kangas (bad toupee), Suze Rotolo (!), Mark Spoelstra, and Liam Clancy who is vaguely tolerable in small doses but would become old real fast. Real fast.
Glover tells the infamous and rather funny story of Bob's habit of nicking other people's records -- like, 400 at a time! They seem rather relaxed about it, I suppose being the Spokesman of a Generation gets you some retrospective slack cutting. Bob's brazen excuse 45 years later? "I was a musical expeditionary and these LPs were hard to come by."
Is "About To Change the Course of Popular Music" really a defence recognised under the law?
And Allen Ginsburg, rather charming and nothing like I would have imagined.
And last, but definately not least, the late Dave Van Ronk. The Pope of Greenwich Village himself. He is very astute I think in his comments on the whole coffee shop scene. Famously, Bob ripped off Van Ronk's arrangement for "House of the Rising Sun" for his first album, forcing Van Ronk to drop it from his repetoire because he was always being accused of stealing it from Dylan. His story of Dylan getting his comeuppance for this is very amusing.
My question is this, Van Ronk died in 2002 and Ginsburg years before that. Are these interviews for this project? Is that how long it's been planned? Or are they interviews for something different entirely?
Update: This Rolling Stone piece answers my question.
Tangentially:
I came to Van Ronk not through Dylan initially, but through Tom Russell and his masterpiece immigrant song cycle, The Man From God Knows Where. Now, "immigrant song cycle" sounds incredibly pretentious, boring and all "Sunday Afternoons on the ABC" but believe me, it is lively and brilliant. Joined by Van Ronk, Iris DeMent, Dolores Keane and assorted Norwegians whose names escape me Russell tells the funny/tragic/moving/absurd story of his own Irish/Scandanavian heritage and the stories of immigration to the US. Seriously, top five album for mine. Van Ronk is "The Outcast" a Greek Chorus meets carney spruiker and his two numbers are really rather brilliant. I've included an MP3 below for a week, for the purposes of encouraging you to go out and buy the record.
The Outcast
Well gather round me people
Lend an ear now if you please
Your promised land was settled by bastards, drunks and thieves
Excuse me if it offends you, but I'm the worst of all of these
I destroyed your family tree
I am the outcast
I'm your inbred second cousin who they kept inside a shed
I'm the cross eyed little stutterer who always wet the bed
I'm your queer Uncle Harry, your retarded Uncle Fred
I am the one they left for dead
I am the outcast
I've embarrassed folks at weddings, birthdays and at wakes
I'm the cur who passed out face down in your anniversary cake
I am the black sheep, the philanderer
The louse, the souse, the rake
The remittance man, the snake
The bloody outcast
Forbear with your pity, my function's very plain
We've come here from the Old World, and we've gone a touch insane
On your social scale you need a boil to bear the family stain
I am the joke in your game
I am the outcast
Oh the black man and the Indian, the Chinaman, the Jew
They built your frickin' railroads, they picked your cotton too
They washed your dirty laundry and they tied your children's shoes
They got a right to sing the blues, cause they were outcasts
Now we worship politicians, as if they all were saints
Put their faces on our money, pillowslips and plates
We should love this land for what it is, and not for what it ain't
Ah, their game is fueled by hate
The hate of outcasts
The Norwegians hate the Swedish and the Swedes they hate the Finns
The Finns they hate the Russians and the Russians hate the Yids
Spics and wops and greasers, kikes and spades and guinea hens
Hatred's blowing in the wind
Ten million outcasts
Oh beautiful for spacious skies and amber waves of grain
Grain distilled to make the rye that pickled old Tom Paine
Georgie built the White House with slaves that died in pain
But Georgie's quarries made the gain
From blood of outcasts
Move in a little closer now, the sideshow must begin
History will repeat itself again, again, again
On the immigration totem pole the low man never wins
Competition ain't a sin
God help the outcast
So step right up you pilgrims
The trains are leaving soon
We got acerage out in Io-way for the likes of folks like you
A quarter section on a floodplain, forty acres and a mule
Sign right here, you bloody fools
Welcome ye, outcasts.
MP3: The Outcast -- Dave Van Ronk (5.1mb)
Today, the supporting players.
The most notable thing maybe is: Joan Baez didn't make me want to scratch my eyes out.
In fact, she is funny, gracious and interesting. She does a very good expletive-laden impersonation of young Bobby. Also, seeing Bob talk about her, it's sort of cryptic but sort of awkwardly embarrassed which he isn't about any other topic (see: larceny, below). So Joan, your reward is that I promise not to get such a thrill of satisfaction anymore whenever I listen to Bootleg Vol 6 Live 1964 and hear how Bobby sings whatever random lyrics he likes with you trying to trill along. He does rather hang you out to dry, doesn't he? Well, I promise not to find that so cool anymore. Promise!
Producer Bob Johnstone is all southern and kinda wacky ("Anyone can see he's got the Holy Spirit in him!") and Al Kooper and Bruce Langhorne are extremely cool in that unique aging hippy muso way. Kooper looks like he hasn't quite come to terms with accidentaly being part of the Greatest Song In The History of Rock and Roll. Like, dude, he still can't believe they let him play that organ that one day.
There are assorted others whose names I know, many from reading David Hadju's excellent Positively Fourth St book, such as Folklore Center proprieter Izzy Young. There are some weird little cameos too, like Art Mogull, a classic Broadway shyster type, interviewed next to a boxing ring, happily claiming credit for launching Dylan's career.
And others whose names you might know if you've read all the books: Tony Glover, John Cohen, Maria Muldaur, Dick Kangas (bad toupee), Suze Rotolo (!), Mark Spoelstra, and Liam Clancy who is vaguely tolerable in small doses but would become old real fast. Real fast.
Glover tells the infamous and rather funny story of Bob's habit of nicking other people's records -- like, 400 at a time! They seem rather relaxed about it, I suppose being the Spokesman of a Generation gets you some retrospective slack cutting. Bob's brazen excuse 45 years later? "I was a musical expeditionary and these LPs were hard to come by."
Is "About To Change the Course of Popular Music" really a defence recognised under the law?
And Allen Ginsburg, rather charming and nothing like I would have imagined.
And last, but definately not least, the late Dave Van Ronk. The Pope of Greenwich Village himself. He is very astute I think in his comments on the whole coffee shop scene. Famously, Bob ripped off Van Ronk's arrangement for "House of the Rising Sun" for his first album, forcing Van Ronk to drop it from his repetoire because he was always being accused of stealing it from Dylan. His story of Dylan getting his comeuppance for this is very amusing.
My question is this, Van Ronk died in 2002 and Ginsburg years before that. Are these interviews for this project? Is that how long it's been planned? Or are they interviews for something different entirely?
Update: This Rolling Stone piece answers my question.
No Direction Home had an unusual genesis. Scorsese ... is credited as the director, but the project was in the works well before he came on board in 2001. Dylan's manager, Jeff Rosen, began conducting interviews with Dylan friends and associates (including poet Allen Ginsberg and folk musician Dave Van Ronk, both of whom have since passed away) around 1995, and he started gathering hundreds of hours of historical film footage even earlier. Dylan himself sat for ten hours of unusually relaxed and open conversation with Rosen in 2000.
Tangentially:
I came to Van Ronk not through Dylan initially, but through Tom Russell and his masterpiece immigrant song cycle, The Man From God Knows Where. Now, "immigrant song cycle" sounds incredibly pretentious, boring and all "Sunday Afternoons on the ABC" but believe me, it is lively and brilliant. Joined by Van Ronk, Iris DeMent, Dolores Keane and assorted Norwegians whose names escape me Russell tells the funny/tragic/moving/absurd story of his own Irish/Scandanavian heritage and the stories of immigration to the US. Seriously, top five album for mine. Van Ronk is "The Outcast" a Greek Chorus meets carney spruiker and his two numbers are really rather brilliant. I've included an MP3 below for a week, for the purposes of encouraging you to go out and buy the record.
The Outcast
Well gather round me people
Lend an ear now if you please
Your promised land was settled by bastards, drunks and thieves
Excuse me if it offends you, but I'm the worst of all of these
I destroyed your family tree
I am the outcast
I'm your inbred second cousin who they kept inside a shed
I'm the cross eyed little stutterer who always wet the bed
I'm your queer Uncle Harry, your retarded Uncle Fred
I am the one they left for dead
I am the outcast
I've embarrassed folks at weddings, birthdays and at wakes
I'm the cur who passed out face down in your anniversary cake
I am the black sheep, the philanderer
The louse, the souse, the rake
The remittance man, the snake
The bloody outcast
Forbear with your pity, my function's very plain
We've come here from the Old World, and we've gone a touch insane
On your social scale you need a boil to bear the family stain
I am the joke in your game
I am the outcast
Oh the black man and the Indian, the Chinaman, the Jew
They built your frickin' railroads, they picked your cotton too
They washed your dirty laundry and they tied your children's shoes
They got a right to sing the blues, cause they were outcasts
Now we worship politicians, as if they all were saints
Put their faces on our money, pillowslips and plates
We should love this land for what it is, and not for what it ain't
Ah, their game is fueled by hate
The hate of outcasts
The Norwegians hate the Swedish and the Swedes they hate the Finns
The Finns they hate the Russians and the Russians hate the Yids
Spics and wops and greasers, kikes and spades and guinea hens
Hatred's blowing in the wind
Ten million outcasts
Oh beautiful for spacious skies and amber waves of grain
Grain distilled to make the rye that pickled old Tom Paine
Georgie built the White House with slaves that died in pain
But Georgie's quarries made the gain
From blood of outcasts
Move in a little closer now, the sideshow must begin
History will repeat itself again, again, again
On the immigration totem pole the low man never wins
Competition ain't a sin
God help the outcast
So step right up you pilgrims
The trains are leaving soon
We got acerage out in Io-way for the likes of folks like you
A quarter section on a floodplain, forty acres and a mule
Sign right here, you bloody fools
Welcome ye, outcasts.
MP3: The Outcast -- Dave Van Ronk (5.1mb)
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Delightful is the Right Word
I will ramble adoringly about No Direction Home at a later time but this bit in The Australian appropriated from The Times has it pretty right. I'm glad he singles out this scene 'cause it had me laughing my head off.
The camera lingers a few beats on Bob (Marty of course is the master of finding the right weight for every frame) as he looks straight down the barrel. Hilarious.
Also,
Bootleg Series 7 review in the SMH (think you need to register but it really isn't that exciting.) I saw the picture and headline in the Spectrum this morning and instantly looked to the end to see who wrote it ... goddamn it, NO. Bruce Elder! FFS. Of course he can't bloody resist sticking in the boot in the last par, and the "shameless borrowing of folk songs" reference as if that wasn't a basic feature of the entire genre Bruce, but for him it's almost fair.
The camera lingers a few beats on Bob (Marty of course is the master of finding the right weight for every frame) as he looks straight down the barrel. Hilarious.
One delightful moment in director Martin Scorsese's new 3 1/2-hour documentary about his hero comes when Dylan recalls an adolescent crush on two girls: "Those two girls, by the way, brought out the poet in me." Then he grins with sly self-mockery, instantly sending up the entire Dylanology industry. The "by the way" is critical.
Also,
Bootleg Series 7 review in the SMH (think you need to register but it really isn't that exciting.) I saw the picture and headline in the Spectrum this morning and instantly looked to the end to see who wrote it ... goddamn it, NO. Bruce Elder! FFS. Of course he can't bloody resist sticking in the boot in the last par, and the "shameless borrowing of folk songs" reference as if that wasn't a basic feature of the entire genre Bruce, but for him it's almost fair.
Friday, September 23, 2005
What I'll Be Doing This Weekend
The short version: TV, food, Bob, sport, music.
Updated. And Updated again -- don't show up to the Gladstone expecting to see the Bastards tonight, you've been warned. Murray Hillbillies are still on at the Stag, I may or may not get over there myself.
1. Going to see Rob Luckey and the Lucky Bastards Saturday night at the Gladstone in Dulwich Hill. If I weren't doing that, I'd be going to the Murray Hillbillies at the Bald Faced Stag in Leichhardt, but the Gladdie is staggering distance of Chez FEM AND I am informed they have opened a $10 cook-your-own-steak plus salad beer garden.
Hmmmmmmm. Steak and honky tonk, file under: there is a god.
Update: Actually this gig has been moved to October 1st. D'oh.
2. Watching No Direction Home, the long awaited Martin Scorsese doco on Dylan. I am picking it up this arvo at Red Eye Records on King St.
UPDATE: It cost $49.98
3. My TV exploded during the week, but a friend has come through in magnificent style with an unwanted one so I will be glued to it on Sunday morning watching the Flute go around again on The Insiders (ABC, Some Godawful Early Time), except for the Paul Kelly bit where I will staring at something dreadfully interesting out the window.
4. Go Tigers! * And Swans, not that I care about that little game^ but it's a chance for Sydney to whup some wussy out-of-staters so ... Go Swannies! Much more satisfying to beat if they were Victorians or QLDers (you know, an important eastern state we actually think about sometimes) but we'll take it.
Cultural notes for foreigners:
* Rugby League: The game they don't play in Heaven, but then I've always thought the Devil has all the best sports.
^ This other game.
Updated. And Updated again -- don't show up to the Gladstone expecting to see the Bastards tonight, you've been warned. Murray Hillbillies are still on at the Stag, I may or may not get over there myself.
Hmmmmmmm. Steak and honky tonk, file under: there is a god.
Update: Actually this gig has been moved to October 1st. D'oh.
2. Watching No Direction Home, the long awaited Martin Scorsese doco on Dylan. I am picking it up this arvo at Red Eye Records on King St.
UPDATE: It cost $49.98
3. My TV exploded during the week, but a friend has come through in magnificent style with an unwanted one so I will be glued to it on Sunday morning watching the Flute go around again on The Insiders (ABC, Some Godawful Early Time), except for the Paul Kelly bit where I will staring at something dreadfully interesting out the window.
4. Go Tigers! * And Swans, not that I care about that little game^ but it's a chance for Sydney to whup some wussy out-of-staters so ... Go Swannies! Much more satisfying to beat if they were Victorians or QLDers (you know, an important eastern state we actually think about sometimes) but we'll take it.
Cultural notes for foreigners:
* Rugby League: The game they don't play in Heaven, but then I've always thought the Devil has all the best sports.
^ This other game.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
So, What Did I Miss?
Google referral tonight:
"the 7.30 report": "bob dylan": 2005: september
???
UPDATE: I have received intelligence that He will be on this show next Wednesday (28th Sept).
"the 7.30 report": "bob dylan": 2005: september
???
UPDATE: I have received intelligence that He will be on this show next Wednesday (28th Sept).
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
In Praise of Delbert
The good folks at HickoryWind.org asked me to join their group blog and since I'm so emotionally needy and desperately crave the approval of strangers (aka "a blogger"), I said yes immediately. This is my first ... thingy for them (us!).
In his exuberant band introductions, Bruce Springsteen, in a revival tent preacher character, introduces Nils Lofgren as the "Keeper of All Things Righteous on E Street." It's a description that always makes me think of Delbert McClinton. Sure, there are others keeping the blues 'n' twang heart beating, mixing up all the styles the People's Republic of Texas (and beyond) has given us, 'til its all just one great stew, not country or blues or rock or soul, just that elusive genre I like to call, "Bloody Great Music." Well, I guess it's "Americana" officially these days but I like my term for it better. Think of a Ray Wylie Hubbard or a Lee Roy Parnell and oh, any number of others. But Delbert has the iconic leading role for me, he just keeps pumping out records regular as a Charlie Watts backbeat and is just as reliable.
His new one Cost of Living (New West) is tearing up the Americana charts last I looked and is a familar (in a good way) blend, a great Saturday night collection of raunchy blues shufffle/rockers and creeping heartbreakers. I like him best actually on these slow-burning soulful numbers, his distinctive whiskey voice rolling around the lyrics and cracking in all the right places. The best here is "Your Memory, Me and the Blues", nothing radical about the subject matter or execution but he mines the familar ground expertly. "Down in Mexico" is a jailbait-gone-wrong story song which seemed a little thin first off but sneaks up on you thanks to a snaking guitar line. "I Had a Real Good Time" is a ready made eulogy for a whole lot of people I know:
I been around the block a time or two
'Round every corner there's something new
I had a real good time
I just love the wine
I love the women and the song and the carryin' on
I had a real good time
There's a big world of opportunity
For a man that sings the blues
You learn a whole lot more about life
From the things you're not supposed to do
"Hammerhead Stew" even has a rather killer singalong chorus, I hope it getting some radio play over there.
My only complaint? More harp, Delbert! This is after all the bloke who inspired John Lennon to play.
Oh and while I'm on the topic, do catch up with his 2001 release Nothing Personal, his best recent one if only for the stone cold classic "When Rita Leaves." One of my songs of the century thus far.
In his exuberant band introductions, Bruce Springsteen, in a revival tent preacher character, introduces Nils Lofgren as the "Keeper of All Things Righteous on E Street." It's a description that always makes me think of Delbert McClinton. Sure, there are others keeping the blues 'n' twang heart beating, mixing up all the styles the People's Republic of Texas (and beyond) has given us, 'til its all just one great stew, not country or blues or rock or soul, just that elusive genre I like to call, "Bloody Great Music." Well, I guess it's "Americana" officially these days but I like my term for it better. Think of a Ray Wylie Hubbard or a Lee Roy Parnell and oh, any number of others. But Delbert has the iconic leading role for me, he just keeps pumping out records regular as a Charlie Watts backbeat and is just as reliable.
His new one Cost of Living (New West) is tearing up the Americana charts last I looked and is a familar (in a good way) blend, a great Saturday night collection of raunchy blues shufffle/rockers and creeping heartbreakers. I like him best actually on these slow-burning soulful numbers, his distinctive whiskey voice rolling around the lyrics and cracking in all the right places. The best here is "Your Memory, Me and the Blues", nothing radical about the subject matter or execution but he mines the familar ground expertly. "Down in Mexico" is a jailbait-gone-wrong story song which seemed a little thin first off but sneaks up on you thanks to a snaking guitar line. "I Had a Real Good Time" is a ready made eulogy for a whole lot of people I know:
I been around the block a time or two
'Round every corner there's something new
I had a real good time
I just love the wine
I love the women and the song and the carryin' on
I had a real good time
There's a big world of opportunity
For a man that sings the blues
You learn a whole lot more about life
From the things you're not supposed to do
"Hammerhead Stew" even has a rather killer singalong chorus, I hope it getting some radio play over there.
My only complaint? More harp, Delbert! This is after all the bloke who inspired John Lennon to play.
Oh and while I'm on the topic, do catch up with his 2001 release Nothing Personal, his best recent one if only for the stone cold classic "When Rita Leaves." One of my songs of the century thus far.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Sometimes, the jokes. They write themselves.
Well spotted by Chris Bertram. Frankly, I'm with the looters ...
Well spotted by Chris Bertram. Frankly, I'm with the looters ...
The Wal-Mart store in uptown New Orleans, built within the last year, survived the storm but was destroyed by looters.
"They took everything — all the electronics, the food, the bikes," said John Stonaker, a Wal-Mart security officer. "People left their old clothes on the floor when they took new ones. The only thing left are the country-and-western CDs. You can still get a Shania Twain album."
Saturday, September 17, 2005
Tonight's lazy-slash-illegal blogging comes to you in memory of my television which finally expired today, aged seven and a half. A flash of orange and a rather unpleasant smell, which lingers still, marked her passing. She was presented to me for my 21st birthday, an occasion marked at a BBQ spot above Coogee Beach. Some of you reading may even have contributed to the original fund, for which I thank you. My TV didn't have an easy life, to be sure. Forced to indulge my passion for Survivor, Star Trek and shonky Sunday morning current affairs, passed from pillar to post when I was overseas and long since having lost the remote, most of the antennae and most recently, the on/off switch she could have been forgiven for opting out a long time ago. I think she knew she had one more Ashes series in her and hung on stoically until then. The last video she played was Hearts of Fire. We had big plans for the release of No Direction Home next week, but you never know when life is gonna throw you a curveball. Vale, my friend.
Sat Night:
Got to Get to Louisiana -- George Jones, Eddy Raven, Jo-El Sonnier (3.4mb)
Rolling with the Flow -- Charlie Rich (2.4mb)
What the Lord Hath Wrought -- Robbie Fulks (7.5mb)
Sun Morn:
What Would You Give In Exchange for your Soul? -- Earl Scruggs, Doc Watson, Ricky Skaggs (2.9mb)
Thursday, September 15, 2005
From the journal of Allison Moorer, Steve of course is new hubby, Mr Earle. The dates are for the 6th -26th Nov but no further details yet.
On a lighter note, it looks like I'll be headed to New Zealand and Australia in November to open some shows for Steve. I'm so looking forward to going!!
On a lighter note, it looks like I'll be headed to New Zealand and Australia in November to open some shows for Steve. I'm so looking forward to going!!
I have been meaning for some time to plug The Taverna, a new venue which has opened its doors in Five Dock. We heartily approve of the "delicious cross section of Mediterranean food" -- if the Mule could subsist on nothing but dolmades and tzatziki she dern well would -- and also the great line up of singer-songerwriter types, folk, blues and country. Check out the website and sign up for the line up they email out weekly, a service your harrassed gig guide compiler certainly appreciates too.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
The Circle, Broken
I'll be back with something to say shortly. Been a little distracted but the official mourning period is almost over. 
My mother joins the meme team. Good to see one person at least who wasn't taken in by the pesky Beatles in 1964!
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Meme fever continues apace. The Blogger on the Cast Iron Balcony has tagged me for another:
After a brief attempt to really, truly like Bros when I was 13, I pretty much gave up on the peer acceptance angle, that's my story now anyway. Family members with different recollections of teen angst may keep it to themselves.
In 1994 I had a spectacular crush on Harry Connick, Jr and my beloved oldest sister bought me a ticket to see him at the Sydney Entertainment Centre, a few days after I moved to the big smoke and in early '95. The next time I was at the SEC it was 1998 for two Bob Dylan shows. Things had changed.
Anyway. The "top songs" of 1994. Let's have a look at the top five.
1. The Sign, Ace Of Base
2. I Swear, All-4-One
3. I'll Make Love To You, Boyz II Men
4. The Power Of Love, Celine Dion
5. Hero, Mariah Carey
Uh huh. Well.
There are clearly going to be alot of strikethroughs, alot of do-nothings and not so much bolding and underlining. It might be more productive just to pick out the ones I have something to say about. It's a short list.
38. I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That), Meat Loaf
I recall liking this song.
52. Gin And Juice, Snoop Doggy Dogg
I like the Gourds' gangsta hillbilly cover of this one. Warning, lyrics not suitable for work or around impressionable poppets. Or people who object to misogyny or obscenity. Killer mando, tho'. And for the multitudes who get here via a Google search for "did Snoop Dogg sell his soul to the devil" : I just don't know.
Mp3: Gin and Juice -- The Gourds
54. Streets Of Philadelphia, Bruce Springsteen
Santa Vaca, a genuinely great song! Retrospectively. 1994 was the Before Bruce dark ages. I probably didn't hate it.
89. December 1963 (Oh, What A Night), Four Seasons
I had this on a cassingle, though was quite suspicious that it might have been about something rude. The word "cassingle" sounds positively Shakesperean on the tongue doesn't it, in 2005?
90. Indian Outlaw, Tim McGraw
Gag. Asked and answered.
94. Love Sneakin' Up On You, Bonnie Raitt
Go Bonnie, but I don't remember it from the time.
This is an American list, the Aussie one doesn't provide much more joy.
Of course by far the most important musical event of 1994 was the release of Johnny Cash's American Recordings, a landmark event in any year.
For this one, you need to go here and type the year you graduated from high school into the search box. (Yeah, it shows everyone instantly how old you are. Depends how cagey you want to be about that one...)I graduated from high school in 1994. Dedicated readers will not be shocked to learn by age 17 I had long since stopped really caring about the Top 40, or rather, it had long since stopped caring about me.
Click on the link "Top 100 hits of... (your graduation year)" and cut and paste the results into your blog.
Bold the songs you like, strike through the ones you hate and underline your favourite. Do nothing to the ones you don't remember (or don't care about).
After a brief attempt to really, truly like Bros when I was 13, I pretty much gave up on the peer acceptance angle, that's my story now anyway. Family members with different recollections of teen angst may keep it to themselves.
In 1994 I had a spectacular crush on Harry Connick, Jr and my beloved oldest sister bought me a ticket to see him at the Sydney Entertainment Centre, a few days after I moved to the big smoke and in early '95. The next time I was at the SEC it was 1998 for two Bob Dylan shows. Things had changed.
Anyway. The "top songs" of 1994. Let's have a look at the top five.
1. The Sign, Ace Of Base
2. I Swear, All-4-One
3. I'll Make Love To You, Boyz II Men
4. The Power Of Love, Celine Dion
5. Hero, Mariah Carey
Uh huh. Well.
There are clearly going to be alot of strikethroughs, alot of do-nothings and not so much bolding and underlining. It might be more productive just to pick out the ones I have something to say about. It's a short list.
38. I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That), Meat Loaf
I recall liking this song.
52. Gin And Juice, Snoop Doggy Dogg
I like the Gourds' gangsta hillbilly cover of this one. Warning, lyrics not suitable for work or around impressionable poppets. Or people who object to misogyny or obscenity. Killer mando, tho'. And for the multitudes who get here via a Google search for "did Snoop Dogg sell his soul to the devil" : I just don't know.
Mp3: Gin and Juice -- The Gourds
54. Streets Of Philadelphia, Bruce Springsteen
Santa Vaca, a genuinely great song! Retrospectively. 1994 was the Before Bruce dark ages. I probably didn't hate it.
89. December 1963 (Oh, What A Night), Four Seasons
I had this on a cassingle, though was quite suspicious that it might have been about something rude. The word "cassingle" sounds positively Shakesperean on the tongue doesn't it, in 2005?
90. Indian Outlaw, Tim McGraw
Gag. Asked and answered.
94. Love Sneakin' Up On You, Bonnie Raitt
Go Bonnie, but I don't remember it from the time.
This is an American list, the Aussie one doesn't provide much more joy.
Of course by far the most important musical event of 1994 was the release of Johnny Cash's American Recordings, a landmark event in any year.
MP3: Like A Soldier -- Johnny Cash
In sweet retribution for tagging me previously, I am passing it on to Zoe and Kate. Also, my sisters FuschiaReads and Cozalcoatl. They were freaks too!
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
So Here's To All Outsiders
Ronald Reagan dies...they fly the flag half-mast. But did they fly half-mast for Ray Charles or Johnny Cash? These people moved to change the daily lives of more people than these damn politicians, who are just drifters and scum...~ Hotwalker
Chris Bertram at Crooked Timber on Charles Bukowski, listen to Tom Russell on that matter and others on the BBC Radio 2. Accompanied by Fats Kaplin, Andrew Hardin and Gurf Morlix!!! Crikey. Like the Windsors, those four shouldn't be allowed to travel on the same plane.
When I wrote the gushing bit linked above I wondered how I would feel about the album in a few months. It's not one to file under "easy listening." Can report I still love it. From the album, the song Woodrow (as in "Guthrie") is one of the songs of the year, no question and you can hear a live version of it on the Harris show.
Same same, but different:
Nudie Cohn in the NYT.
Webb Pierce, right, in Nudie suit and Nudie car. Those were the days.
Monday, September 05, 2005
My advice? Don't get between these two and the hospitality tent.
Somehow, George Jones is still alive, not only kicking but recording. This new one due out Sept 13 sounds promising.
The cuts include Willie Nelson’s “Funny How Time Slips Away,” Bobby Bare’s “Detroit City,” Alan Jackson’s “Here In The Real World,” Mark Chesnutt’s “Too Cold At Home,” Merle Haggard’s “Today I Started Loving You Again,” and a duet with Dolly Parton on Hank Williams Jr.’s “The Blues Man.”
I'm on the phone to Woolies HQ right now:
How did you get into the George Jones Country Sausage business?
Some friends of mine, the Williams family here in Tennessee, asked me to join them. They’ve been very successful on their own so we thought we’d put my name on there and so far it’s been doing fantastic. We’re in about 10,000 supermarkets now.
Via Real Country Music news.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
News from New Orleans at the Gumbo Pages, including updates on musicians affected.
MP3: Are They Gonna Make Us Outlaws Again? -- James Talley
MP3: Are They Gonna Make Us Outlaws Again? -- James Talley
... tangled in wishes ...
Sat Night:
I still get a heap of hits a day from people looking for the lyrics to the Notorious Cherry Bombs' It's Hard to Kiss the Lips ... As a public service once I posted them here. Frankly, this is by far the least of the songs on the album and I hope all these Googlers have gone out and bought the whole thing.
On The Road to Ruin -- Notorious Cherry Bombs (3.1mb)
Back in the day, when I was a poor student I once had to make a choice. Iris DeMent or Steve Earle? Couldn't afford to go to both (especially at The Basement) and they were in Sydney at the same time, just pre- or post- a Byron appearance. I chose Iris, and might make the same choice again today. I recently acquired via the miracle of EBay her two middle albums My Life and The Way I Should. I used to own them and then all my Cds got stolen. Don't get me started. So, I haven't listened to them since about the year 2000. They were very important songs to me then, but that was a whole different century, a whole different emotional state, a whole different Mule. Thank the Flying Spagetti Monster, those days are over. Would I feel the same today? Would what seemed moved me very deeply then just seem wet, melodramatic and trite today? No, as it happens. Call me a big girly wuss but damn, I still love these songs.
My Life -- Iris De Ment (3.3mb)
Oh, I completely forgot about Lost Highway on TV last night. D'oh. Anyway, it was good to see Hank Thompson turn up on last week's ep. This is from the classic album A Six Pack to Go (1965), included on the one Capitol reissue with Breakin' In Another Heart (1966). I bought this CD at Transylvania music shop on Tverskaya Ulitsa in Moscow, a short stroll from Red Square. Alot of my rubles found their way there over the years.
Hangover Heart -- Hank Thompson (2.8mb)
Sun Morn:
Drifting Too Far From the Shore -- Jerry Garcia and David Grisman (4.4mb)
Brand New Feeling -- Lee Roy Parnell (4.7mb)
Saturday, September 03, 2005
New West Records Red Cross Drive in aid of Hurricane Katrina relief. Collectable items from John Hiatt, Dwight Yoakam, Drive By Truckers and many more.
FYI, I would really love that Hiatt/North Mississippi All Stars poster for Christmas, yours (mine) for just USD$200. ;-)
FYI, I would really love that Hiatt/North Mississippi All Stars poster for Christmas, yours (mine) for just USD$200. ;-)
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Ready For My Close Up Mr Marquand
Tagged by Zoe for this meme. Who Would Play Me In A Movie Of My Life? My considered opinion below. For anyone here just for the music, I manage to wrench it back to Bob Dylan in the end .....
But first. What is the point of getting to cast your own movie if you don't get to choose the leading man? This role is somewhat underwritten in the script as it stands but luckily my life is pure high concept, as they say in da biz, so can shop it around anyway. After long, arduous hours of thoroughly auditioning candidates on three, no wait four, continents I have narrowed it down to two. Tough call. I'm thinking of reconceptualising it as somekind of arty Orlando-esque deal and they can both take bits, so to speak. Now I know you'll just want to gaze at these for a good few minutes, just to really get a sense of the essential character. That's fine, I understand. I'll be waiting for you below.
And in the role of me. I went through a few choices, each representing an essential aspect of the Mule-ness.
The Ingrid Bergman of Dorking, Ms Molly Sugden?
I flatter myself that my sense of humour is a distinguishing characteristic and it would take a deft comic talent indeed to fully realise this on screen.
Ms Margaret Rutherford? She of course is best known for her breakout performance as Miss Marple in a series of classic films, for your consideration please also see the sublime Blithe Spirit and The Importance of Being Earnest. As Miss Marple she perfected the art of hiding her razor sharp intelligence and exceptional observation skills under surface clumsiness and eccentricity. The take home message for the audience? Understimate the Mule at your peril, suckas!
Ms Bea Arthur? She don't take no nonsense. She in yo' face. She says: don't play me. She says : You diss Johnny Cash, prepare to die.
I considered all these, and all would be excellent. Sure they are uncanny physical likenesses and project an aura of emotional truth. But there can only be one. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you:
Fiona
Fiona is the leading lady in the 1987 feature film starring Bob Dylan, Hearts of Fire. This film is terrible. And you know if I say something Dylan is involved in is terrible ... well, you can believe its pretty bad. But hilarious. A bored looking Dylan, a bored looking Rupert Everett and a blank looking Fiona wander around and ... do stuff. There is a sex scene I have tried very diligently to erase from my consciousness, the price was losing great slabs of the "plot" as well. The back of the video box says :
A red-hot triangle, HEARTS OF FIRE is an intense story of three people; a fading musical legend, a rock star at the peak of his career and the girl they both so desperately want. Directed by Richard Marquand (JAGGED EDGE, RETURN OF THE JEDI) .... charged with energy, emotion and a booming rock soundtrack HEARTS OF FIRE is a film not to be missed!
Or not. Everett is some kind of Marc Almond-esque New Romantic with a dreadful mullet and an even worse co'ney accent. Fiona is supposed to be this hot dynamo of a singer but minces pathetically around like a contestant on the "Pat Benatar Theme Night" on Australian Idol.
And you know all those wonderful pithy lyrical quotes Dylan is known for? Well, wait til you hear the gems he gets to speak in this script, including the line every girl longs to hear from the window of a moving cab:
Aw, shit. I love you.
In the climactic concert scene, Billy (Dylan) announces his "surprise" presence by flicking a lit cigarette at Fiona on stage. It's supposed to be a dramatic breathtaking cinematic moment but ... he flicks a lit cigarette at her. Call me old fashioned, but that's not quite up there with "dinner and a movie" in my book.
Anyway. I would like Fiona to play me in my movie because it would be a cool six-degrees thing. The chick in that hilarious turkey of a Dylan film, played me ... ME! ... in a film. I will get free beers for the rest of my natural life.
The music generally sucks but Bobby does do a quite lovely snippet, only about a minute long, of a Shel Silverstein song, A Couple More Years, also recorded by Dr Hook and Waylon Jennings. He sings it to her while she's asleep on some hay in a barn, surrounded by chickens. Why is she asleep in a barn? Jesus, I don't remember.
MP3:A Couple More Years -- Bob Dylan (2.3mb)
Thanks to Honky Tonk Highway for finding me the MP3, go over there and hassle him to start updating again ....
But first. What is the point of getting to cast your own movie if you don't get to choose the leading man? This role is somewhat underwritten in the script as it stands but luckily my life is pure high concept, as they say in da biz, so can shop it around anyway. After long, arduous hours of thoroughly auditioning candidates on three, no wait four, continents I have narrowed it down to two. Tough call. I'm thinking of reconceptualising it as somekind of arty Orlando-esque deal and they can both take bits, so to speak. Now I know you'll just want to gaze at these for a good few minutes, just to really get a sense of the essential character. That's fine, I understand. I'll be waiting for you below.
And in the role of me. I went through a few choices, each representing an essential aspect of the Mule-ness.
The Ingrid Bergman of Dorking, Ms Molly Sugden?
I flatter myself that my sense of humour is a distinguishing characteristic and it would take a deft comic talent indeed to fully realise this on screen.
Ms Margaret Rutherford? She of course is best known for her breakout performance as Miss Marple in a series of classic films, for your consideration please also see the sublime Blithe Spirit and The Importance of Being Earnest. As Miss Marple she perfected the art of hiding her razor sharp intelligence and exceptional observation skills under surface clumsiness and eccentricity. The take home message for the audience? Understimate the Mule at your peril, suckas!
Ms Bea Arthur? She don't take no nonsense. She in yo' face. She says: don't play me. She says : You diss Johnny Cash, prepare to die.
I considered all these, and all would be excellent. Sure they are uncanny physical likenesses and project an aura of emotional truth. But there can only be one. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you:
Fiona is the leading lady in the 1987 feature film starring Bob Dylan, Hearts of Fire. This film is terrible. And you know if I say something Dylan is involved in is terrible ... well, you can believe its pretty bad. But hilarious. A bored looking Dylan, a bored looking Rupert Everett and a blank looking Fiona wander around and ... do stuff. There is a sex scene I have tried very diligently to erase from my consciousness, the price was losing great slabs of the "plot" as well. The back of the video box says :
A red-hot triangle, HEARTS OF FIRE is an intense story of three people; a fading musical legend, a rock star at the peak of his career and the girl they both so desperately want. Directed by Richard Marquand (JAGGED EDGE, RETURN OF THE JEDI) .... charged with energy, emotion and a booming rock soundtrack HEARTS OF FIRE is a film not to be missed!
Or not. Everett is some kind of Marc Almond-esque New Romantic with a dreadful mullet and an even worse co'ney accent. Fiona is supposed to be this hot dynamo of a singer but minces pathetically around like a contestant on the "Pat Benatar Theme Night" on Australian Idol.
And you know all those wonderful pithy lyrical quotes Dylan is known for? Well, wait til you hear the gems he gets to speak in this script, including the line every girl longs to hear from the window of a moving cab:
Aw, shit. I love you.
In the climactic concert scene, Billy (Dylan) announces his "surprise" presence by flicking a lit cigarette at Fiona on stage. It's supposed to be a dramatic breathtaking cinematic moment but ... he flicks a lit cigarette at her. Call me old fashioned, but that's not quite up there with "dinner and a movie" in my book.
Anyway. I would like Fiona to play me in my movie because it would be a cool six-degrees thing. The chick in that hilarious turkey of a Dylan film, played me ... ME! ... in a film. I will get free beers for the rest of my natural life.
The music generally sucks but Bobby does do a quite lovely snippet, only about a minute long, of a Shel Silverstein song, A Couple More Years, also recorded by Dr Hook and Waylon Jennings. He sings it to her while she's asleep on some hay in a barn, surrounded by chickens. Why is she asleep in a barn? Jesus, I don't remember.
MP3:A Couple More Years -- Bob Dylan (2.3mb)
Thanks to Honky Tonk Highway for finding me the MP3, go over there and hassle him to start updating again ....
The Modern Dilemma
Bootleg Series 7? Or electricity bill? Bootleg Series 7? Or electricity bill? Bootlegseries7?orelectricitybill?bootlegseries7orelectricitybill?Bootlegseries7?orelectricitybill?bootlegseries7orelectricitybill?Bootlegseries7?orelectricitybill?bootlegseries7orelectricitybill?Bootlegseries7?orelectricitybill?bootlegseries7orelectricitybill?Bootlegseries7?orelectricitybill?bootlegseries7orelectricitybill? Bootlegseries7?orelectricitybillbootlegseries7orelectricitybill?
Bootlegseries7?orelectricitybill?bootlegseries7orelectricitybill?
Bootleg Series 7?
or
electricity bill?
Damn.
Bootlegseries7?orelectricitybill?bootlegseries7orelectricitybill?
Bootleg Series 7?
or
electricity bill?
Damn.
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