The English Beat - the limits we set Sire Madness - chipmunks are go! Tuesday, October 21, Drum a little Bass. Tuesday, September 16, Lets Party. Tuesday, July 29, See you in september. Tuesday, July 22, Lets get weird. Venetian Snares Coppe - I fall in love to easily darkat slugged in the rain mix Coppe - I fall in love to easily mango sweet rice get outside Nirvana - they hung him on a cross addj slug version reaganomics - precious lord reaganomics - storm is passing over konk - your life alkalino edit Alexander Robotnic - problemes D'Amour ah ou ah single edit Her Versatile needs Darkat vs Cyndi Greco - making our dreams come true pharcyde - ya mama the murphy mix taking out the trash Ultimate thunderstorm.
Tuesday, July 15, Slacktivision. Cyndi Greco - making our dreams come true. Tuesday, July 8, Magic Carpet Ride. Labels: 90sbreaksdubstepelectronicNinja Tuneturntablismunderground electronic.
Tuesday, June 24, 70s and 80s Bollywood and Disco. Tuesday, June 17, As the world Spins. Labels: discofolk musicfunkworld music. Tuesday, June 10, Thrift store romance. Tuesday, June 3, Darkats. Live mutant yacht meld set Darkat - O'superjam on it newcleus vs.
Hook - right bounce, wrong time Darkat vs. Grover washington Jr. We loved to walk that beach to the music of the waves. One evening, we heard reggae music coming from one of the oceanside shacks. Locals had mentioned the Dune Preserve Bar and so we wandered inside a structure that seemed to be constructed from old warehouse pieces and assorted debris. In fact, it was, since it had been rebuilt more than once after hurricanes lashed the tiny island. Upstairs, a reggae band played energetically, though there were few customers.
We were reluctant to stay, but a dreadlocked man warmly welcomed us inside and we ordered a beer. Small, skinny dogs and cats roamed the ramshackle rooms and a sweet smell, probably ganja, lingered in the air.
As the band pounded reggae rhythms in the next room, we sat down across from a couch where a middle-aged black man lay sprawled. When I replied "Indiana," Bankie quizzed me about bluegrass music. After awhile, another man appeared, blowing into a saxophone as he jammed with the reggae sounds. Michael was another Anguillan, friendly and talkative.
We relaxed and enjoyed the place awhile longer before we trekked along the moonlit shore to the resort. Later, I learned that Bankie was somewhat of a celebrity on Anguilla, a genuine reggae star with a philanthropic heart for his island country. Although I didn't know his music, I learned that he mostly sang about his life and love for his tiny homeland. The Dune Preserve Bar lived up to its name. It wasn't about playing "I Shot the Sheriff" for tourists; it was about "preserving" the music inside that needs to be preserved.
Friday, January 22, Travels In Song excerpt from chapter On day four of a Windjammer sailing adventure in the Grenadines, we passed Mustique, a "Rich and Famous" island occasionally inhabited by such rock persona as Mick Jagger and Sting. However, it was not the rock celebrity thoughts but rather that evening's event when some real music emerged while anchored at the small island of Bequia. The captain recommended karaoke at a local place called Schooners, so our group of 10 tendered over for a barfest.
When we arrived, the bar was closed and our tender had returned to the ship. We were ready for fun and song but, for the moment, we seemed temporarily stuck in an island town that had gone to sleep early. As we waited for the tender's return under a star-filled sky, someone from Schooners turned on a light and motioned us inside. We helped flip plastic chairs over as the owner opened his bar and cranked up the karaoke machine.
Our shipmate friends, from different places around the United States, took turns singing songs as locals gathered inside and out. The place started hopping! I grabbed the microphone for my first ever attempt at karaoke and sang awkward versions of "Runaround Sue" and "Your Mama Don't Dance.
When all of us travelers exhausted our efforts, the Bequians stepped to the microphone. Young men started singing American country and western songs in strange but delightful accents. We were hundreds of miles from any real night life where polished professionals sang for their supper. But this was one of those timeless, magical nights of momentary joy where cultures merged in song. It was also the first time viewing of the Southern Cross star formation -- an instant link to the song lyrics of "Southern Cross," by Stephen Stills.
In all of these chapters, there are more music adventures, trivia tidbits, an occasional lyric, etc. Please feel free to comment or share your musical journeys on my Facebook entries or on the blog itself. Wednesday, January 20, Re-Tuning excerpt from chapter In the late s, I received word that a classmate, from elementary school, was killed in a refinery accident in my hometown. Since I had moved away, I had not thought much about the industrial area where I grew up.
I had forgotten about so many old acquaintances who chose to stay in that place to live and work. The distant news led me to my Gibson guitar. Tuesday, January 19, Pipeline excerpt from chapter After writing many album reviews for the newspaper where I worked, I developed an idea for my own music trivia column. I designed my own logo and used a photo of Little Richard for the first column. The idea was simply to provide tidbits of '60s music trivia, such as listing the top songs of 20 years ago, brief bios of an artist or band and quirky facts, such as: Stephen Stills once flunked an audition to be in the Monkees; Dave Clark was once a film stunt man; the Righteous Brothers weren't really brothers and Paul McCartney wrote "Martha, My Dear" for his English sheepdog.
I never ran out of interesting ideas -- at least interesting ideas to me. I found unique photos and album covers to run with my logo, which changed LP times. The best music of the '60s era, really rolling far into the s, created a new genre called classic rock. Monday, January 18, Running Through the '80s excerpt from chapter It attracted top-notch runners, but my wife and I participated for the adventure, content with finishing and collecting the usual free t-shirt award.
The trail traversed a golf course, forced runners to jump over bales of hay on a narrow forest path and ended in an uphill blast of pain.
The pre-race packet included a "poop sheet" of restroom facilities and something called "The Guide to Music Stations for Your Listening Pleasure.
Caution -- a special touch on the keyboard utilizing a synthesizer may involuntarily increase your pace. You're back in town and almost home and it is time to celebrate with this neat beat a la 50s. Finish, all kinds of live music in the park. You conquered the trails and did great!
Creative stuff from someone's music inside. Sunday, January 17, Wedding Song excerpt from chapter In a Catholic Church, in the bicentennial year filled with patriotic music, we were married. Our ceremony music was light classical piano not our first choice, which was the Beatles but just fine. LP hired a local trio for our reception, a group that played plenty of polkas and other standards, including the obligatory rock gems such as "Proud Mary. Getting married and sharing a new life forever with another person creates new music inside.
If you have a "significant other," as the term goes, some of your strongest music inevitably merges with their songs. It's the sense that, together, you can create your own path, sharing the ups and downs along the way.
The soundtrack follows the path. Graham Nash wrote it and described a little house in Laurel Canyon that he shared with Joni Mitchell. It was a poetic celebration of their life together: "I'll light the fire while you place the flowers in the vase that you bought today Saturday, January 16, Plugging In excerpt from chapter So many great bands transitioned with different names, personnel changes and experiences that are part of their legacy. Would my first rock band,called Jug, go through as many ups and downs on the road to fame and fortune?
I envisioned these things, even compiling lists of potential songs and other band names for future use. It was all part of the rock and roll fantasy. In a few months, Jug was sounding pretty decent and attracted the interest of a nerdy-looking guy. He had anachronistic short hair, wore thick eyeglasses and wanted to be our "manager. This was all pretty crazy but we agreed, moving our equipment to his house and deciding to identify all the songs that we would play when we finally secured a real gig.
And, in the neighborhood, there were girls -- mostly young teenyboppers who spotted our long-haired band of oil and steelworkers as we carried our guitars into the house regularly. The problem with being in a rock n' roll band is that five players and a manager shared different opinions about choosing the music we played or were capable of playing. It was beneath us to do an old pop favorite like "Hang On Sloopy," but impossible to replicate anything out of the Frank Zappa catalog.
We would argue among ourselves, refereed by our manager, then shake hands and play on. We eventually focused on learning a few songs really well, but most sessions just ended up in long, improvisational jam sessions. It was exciting and exhausting, but somehow we all knew it wouldn't last long.
Friday, January 15, Vinyl Obsessions excerpt from chapter Although FM radio was beginning to play more and more album-oriented rock, it was usually through friends that I encountered the most exciting of this music. My old bass-playing friend, the kid who brought want-ad musicians into his living room for a jam, was always discovering the most abstract or least played on the radio music, though it didn't always appeal to me. Or Stevie Winwood, from Traffic, joining Eric Clapton and other talented players from known bands to create new expressions in a short-lived group called Blind Faith.
There was always a steady stream of new music emanating from his bedroom turntable. And how many artists, other than perhaps the Beatles, would really explore the vinyl creatively by putting a groove around the labels of one of their albums? If you just happened to have a manual turntable, a voice would repeat "Turn me over" at the end of the last cut. On the flip side, the words "Play me again" were a unique reminder to change the album sides!
The James Gang, with Joe Walsh as it's most famous and humorous member, did it and my friend discovered it. Thursday, January 14, Live On Stage excerpt from chapter King Crimson produced a type of music far removed from the pop charts, even the acoustic music that I loved. It was a new direction that fused rock with jazz and other genres, played by well-disciplined, talented musicians. They were led by Robert Fripp, a guitarist who was all about the music and not about the hype. At one point during the concert, Fripp stopped playing in the middle of an extended jam.
He had noticed someone talking in the front section of the audience, not paying full attention to the musical experience. Fripp was offended and made it clear he would not perform with distractions.
Fripp and King Crimson then continued the concert. I was amazed at Fripp's outrage, but realized that this was one band focused on meaningful art through music.
Fripp talked about a revelation he had inin which the music is always present, as a friend. Instead of looking for music, Fripp suggested being quiet enough to hear the music that's already there. Reading his words, for me, was a close encounter with someone who truly visualized the music inside. Robert Fripp, genius musician and artist Two Guitars - 101 Strings - Gypsy Campfires (Vinyl so many ways.
Wednesday, January 13, The 4 A. Band excerpt from chapter That fact definitely applies to our music inside. Although Lakeside Coffee House was a tremendous experience, it was only the starting point for others. High schools hosted informal music jam sessions and Calumet College, where I attended, promoted acoustic open microphone nights.
I played at these places periodically, even doing a few songs with friends in a club called "The Cave," on the same stage where Chubby Checker once performed. Slowly, I began fine-tuning the few songs I had memorized, writing and expanding my small repertoire. After Lakeside closed, my new friends gathered in parks or apartments. My home basement was roomy, had furniture and was available on weekends when my parents were building their retirement cottage in another part of the state.
I found dedicated musicians and friends at Lakeside and four of us played together frequently at my house, occasionally joined by two others. We worked on harmonies and filled in guitar parts. It sounded good. Our group didn't need a bass or dums, although we found different ways low notes on guitar and thumping on the wood to fill up the sound. I was improving but still felt like a beginner among these talented musicians.
Our sessions Two Guitars - 101 Strings - Gypsy Campfires (Vinyl long, yet no one cared about the time and we often hit a peak in the middle of the night, towards morning actually. At some point, someone suggested that we call ourselves "The 4 A. Band" and the name stuck. We had no plans to perform or write -- we were caught in the moments of our music.
Tuesday, January 12, Lakeside excerpt from chapter 9. An old Methodist church had been "de-sanctified," I was told, and was no longer a place of religion, but rather a coffeehouse. On certain evenings, anyone could go to Lakeside, take an instrument and sing along in the impromptu jam sessions. I had never been to a coffeehouse, but watched enough episodes of "The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis" to envision finger-snapping beatniks reading bland poetry.
Images of Maynard G. Krebs flashed in my head. Still, this was the early s, beatniks were now hippies and the whole counterculture movement was continuously splashed throughout the media.
I was curious but, at the same time, apprehensive about this new place called Lakeside. I decided I should check it out once. Upstairs in the old church building, I found myself in a small, candlelit room where my two new musician friends and at least 10 other unfamiliar people crowded. One of these was a young, clean-cut Methodist minister. He seemed to be well-acquainted with a quiet, strange-looking couple, who held hands and sat in the lotus position staring into space.
Later, I learned that they actually lived in the church. There was no music. With my battered guitar case in hand, I was ready to turn around and forget the whole idea. But the minister was friendly and personable; he motioned me to sit down and join in the Two Guitars - 101 Strings - Gypsy Campfires (Vinyl session. Reluctantly, I set my case aside and sat on the floor, since the room had no furniture. Initially, I was afraid of being pulled into some bizarre cult or new religion, but I soon found out that there was something else going on here.
Teenagers and young adults were discussing Vietnam, civil rights, women's liberation, and ecology -- signs of the turbulent and changing times. These were intelligent, likable people with views to be conveyed to anyone who would listen. It was fascinating and engaging conversation but it also did not take long for guitars and harmonicas to come out of cases. The songs played weren't necessarily from the current pop charts. This was folk music for my generation and it intrigued me.
Monday, January 11, Cruisin' excerpt from chapter 8. At first, I found it unusual that a friend's car had this cool eight-track tape player with great speakers but that he didn't own any taped music.
Cruising in his Chevy Malibu, we played the radio but I tired of the redundancy of pop hits. It wasn't very long before I convinced my buddy to go shopping.
He had a pretty good "clean hands" job at the local drug store, so on payday we made a visit to the local K-mart and headed for the tape bins. I reached for a copy of Santana's "Abraxis. I knew that it was a harder rock n' roll than they played on AM, but I wasn't very familiar with the band.
My friend took the handful of tapes and we checked out. In the Malibu, we listened to the Beach Boys and the Guess Who, good music only interrupted by the loud clicking of the tapes changing tracks. When we got to the main street of town, the windows came down and I popped in the "Paranoid" album. With the first strains of "Iron Man", my sports-minded friend was hooked and he cranked up the volume until the dashboard rattled. It was Ozzy Osbourne, singing in devilish style to a driving, hard beat.
Instant cool. I should have realized that Black Sabbath would interest my friend. Growing up with him, I knew he was obsessed with old Frankenstein, Dracula and Wolfman flicks, even the classic late night TV show called "Shock Theatre. Freak Train saxophone 5. Freeway 6. Breathing Out 7. Somerville Speakout Podcast not sure how this internet doohickey works. Posts to be once every week or so, with the emphasis on "so. Saturday, May 31, Saturday, May Ron's House!
Interview With Great Plains mouthpiece. Monday, March 24, Saturday, March 22, Tweenbeat! Labels: substitute to change. Saturday, March 15, Intercontinental Breakfast. Don't blame me, Blame Jesse the K of the Intercontinental. Labels: Lost Highway. Williams vs.
I thank my lucky stars that something - the unappetizing album cover featuring a sunburned, scrawny and shirtless Sam in cowboy hat - compelled me to listen. Compare and contrast two versions of the single, Saro. Newer Posts Older Posts Home. Subscribe to: Posts Atom. Now Playing! Sorry, I
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