1/25/07 Week Three Exercises 5, 6, 7
You bet I've been to Flicker and have populated my site with some nifty images of sojurn in Spain as well as an action photo of my guitar picking son Todd and me singing a trilogy of songs I wrote about my wife's Texas roots. I suppose my next leap will be to get some of those pics over here on this site, but that may have to wait until the next exercise. Now it seems to me that the simple act of writing this would be fulfilling exercise numbeer seven. After all it's not like it's being written on Chinese rice paper or sticked in the dirt. Technology right? Okay, why quibble. To truly fulfill my techno rumination I'll tell the story of what used to be a wonderful way to hear some fine music. Listen:
I own an Ipod and although late to that dance, just like every other techno advancement of the past three decades, once in hand it was quickly filled with tunes from my oveer 1,000 cds. I also bought once of those docks, looks like a doughnut, that serves as a charger and a player getting outstanding sound for something so small. I don't use it at home but it always goes on the road and fills up a motel room quite adequately with everything from Lyle Lovett to Sinatra and the Stones. Well I went to Spain this past winter break and of course the Ipod was an essential for the flight and for the hotels. Unfortunately the dock was in my luggage which was seperated from me at fogged out Heathrow Airport and didn't make the scene until some eight days later. When it arrived I was so happy to see my clothes (of course) but even more excited to have that dock so the Spaniard could get a load of Emmylou. Electrical grids being different in Europe we had brought adapters so I plugged the dock into the adapter and the adapter into the wall. Nothing happened for a few seconds but then all the lights went out in the room and their was a peculiar burning smell. Adios dock. Adapter was nice but a converter would have been even better. Tomorrow I go to Costco for dock numero dos. Love that technology..................
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Paying the Piper
Well here's to venality and acquisition. I'm no different and I must confess a hankering to have that flash drive. Soooooooooo this is a post for week 2 numbers 3 and 4. Yes, I have my blog, pounded out an observation or two and in my own cumbersome non-techno way made some sense of this. Still I wonder if Ms. Nin or old Sam Pepys had to worry as much about the tools of their trade as we modern day navel gazer do. Just wondering.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Last month, last days
In 1967 Sam Cooke's heir to the throne of soul had just finished the greatest year of his life. Otis Redding had set fire to the Monterrey Pop Festival that summer, proving almost as incendiary as that lefty from Seattle, the difference being that Otis had no need to set a stratocaster on fire during his signature tune "Try A Little Tenderness" While he was out on the west coast Redding wrote a song that he recorded in late November, a tune about gazing at the San Francisco Bay. Two weeks later after that session that brought us "Dock of the Bay" Otis' plane went down into a Wisconson lake almost three years to the day after Sam's last night at the motel.
James Brown exited this Christmas having lived long enough to have made himself a national institution, a long way from the kid who danced on street corners and later recorded the tune that Sonny Liston trained to as he prepared to meet a young poet from Louisville.
In 1985 in the midst of constant touring to meet the conditions of a large divorce settlement and perhaps to fuel some personal bad habits Rick Nelson died in a plane incident in Texas. There were allegations that the fire in the plane that claimed the lives of Rick and his band was caused by an unexpected freebasing accident, but the official line was that fault space heaters started the fire that claimed the life of the underrated rocker and t.v. star.
In 1980 perhaps the most famous rock and roll star alive was making a comeback. John Lennon on the night of December 8 was returning from the studio where he was riding a burst of creative energy and looking to follow up his recently released Double Fantasy. Mark David Chapman waited with a copy of Catcher In the Rye and a warm gun.
Finally, on New Year's Eve 1952 the greatest country singer and songwriter of the century breathed out his last tortured breath in the back of a powder blue caddy on his way to a date he never kept. Hank Williams was only twenty nine. A quarter of a century later Merle Haggard would write "If we can make it through December we'll be fine........." Amen to that.
James Brown exited this Christmas having lived long enough to have made himself a national institution, a long way from the kid who danced on street corners and later recorded the tune that Sonny Liston trained to as he prepared to meet a young poet from Louisville.
In 1985 in the midst of constant touring to meet the conditions of a large divorce settlement and perhaps to fuel some personal bad habits Rick Nelson died in a plane incident in Texas. There were allegations that the fire in the plane that claimed the lives of Rick and his band was caused by an unexpected freebasing accident, but the official line was that fault space heaters started the fire that claimed the life of the underrated rocker and t.v. star.
In 1980 perhaps the most famous rock and roll star alive was making a comeback. John Lennon on the night of December 8 was returning from the studio where he was riding a burst of creative energy and looking to follow up his recently released Double Fantasy. Mark David Chapman waited with a copy of Catcher In the Rye and a warm gun.
Finally, on New Year's Eve 1952 the greatest country singer and songwriter of the century breathed out his last tortured breath in the back of a powder blue caddy on his way to a date he never kept. Hank Williams was only twenty nine. A quarter of a century later Merle Haggard would write "If we can make it through December we'll be fine........." Amen to that.
Friday, January 19, 2007
If We Can Make It Through December
1/19/2007
Welcome to the Countdown Lounge where whenever the music beckons you'll get some cultural rumination from yours truly. Since this is my first post and since it comes during the first month of the year it feels appropriate to kick off the tale with a look back at that most seductive and yet treacherous and dangerous of months, December. Of couse I call it seductive because of its servitude to the cult of Mr. Claus and the obsessive pursuit or all things shiny and bright. Behind that door of course waits the tiger, but it's even a little diceier than that if you happen to be a musician. Listen:
In 1964 with two weeks until Christmas the greatest soul singer of all time
was at the top of his game. Sam Cooke was as successful as any black singer had ever been and that was a list that included Nat King Cole and Ray Charles. Sam was the number two selling artist on RCA, owned his own record company, and sold equally to to audiences black and white. He was doing screen tests for movies and t.v.and his future was as wide and bright as his killer smile, a smile that brought him a legendary amount of female companionship. That December night he went into a Hollywood bar, picked up a woman who may or may not have been working the room and drove her to a two dollar motel in east l.a. Some hours later when the police were called he was dead with two bullets in him, fired by the manager of the hotel who said that she had feared for her life when Sam broke down the door to her room. Cooke had been looking for the woman who had taken his pants along with several thousand dollars in folding money. The manager told Sam she knew nothing about the woman and when he stepped toward her she answered with gunfire. The inquest ruled it justifiable homicide but to this day there are many who wonder. December.
Welcome to the Countdown Lounge where whenever the music beckons you'll get some cultural rumination from yours truly. Since this is my first post and since it comes during the first month of the year it feels appropriate to kick off the tale with a look back at that most seductive and yet treacherous and dangerous of months, December. Of couse I call it seductive because of its servitude to the cult of Mr. Claus and the obsessive pursuit or all things shiny and bright. Behind that door of course waits the tiger, but it's even a little diceier than that if you happen to be a musician. Listen:
In 1964 with two weeks until Christmas the greatest soul singer of all time
was at the top of his game. Sam Cooke was as successful as any black singer had ever been and that was a list that included Nat King Cole and Ray Charles. Sam was the number two selling artist on RCA, owned his own record company, and sold equally to to audiences black and white. He was doing screen tests for movies and t.v.and his future was as wide and bright as his killer smile, a smile that brought him a legendary amount of female companionship. That December night he went into a Hollywood bar, picked up a woman who may or may not have been working the room and drove her to a two dollar motel in east l.a. Some hours later when the police were called he was dead with two bullets in him, fired by the manager of the hotel who said that she had feared for her life when Sam broke down the door to her room. Cooke had been looking for the woman who had taken his pants along with several thousand dollars in folding money. The manager told Sam she knew nothing about the woman and when he stepped toward her she answered with gunfire. The inquest ruled it justifiable homicide but to this day there are many who wonder. December.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
