Famous radio presenter John Peel has died. Born John Robert Ravenscroft he worked in radio in the USA then in the mid 60's he returned to join the likes of the brilliant Kenny Everett in the heady days of pirate radio. He then joined the BBC and was influential in shaping UK musical tastes and as a knockon effect UK musical output, for a few generations and was a reminder of the days when radio presenters had some knowledge and love of music and played the music they liked or thought that they or the listeners might like.
To look and listen to a Peel playlist is to be extended and see possibilities. Other than some community broadcasters these radio days are gone. Long gone.
Peel has always said his favourite single, and one of the best, of all time was “Teenage Kicks” by The Undertones. I agree.
Peel had said he wanted a line from Teenage Kicks on his headstone : "teenage dreams, so hard to beat"
Another Peel quote I agree with: "...I never really thought Oasis were much good to be honest...."
Amazingly Peel was in Dallas the day JFK was shot and at the site 45 minutes later then also at the press conference when they hauled in Lee Harvey Oswald.
Another BBC DJ Andy Kershaw, who might know, has placed him above Lennon & McCartney as the most important figure in the fifty year history of British rockmusic.
UPDATE: Limited time.The perfect single. Sublime guitar pop. MP3 of "Teenage Kicks" here. Instructions. PLAY LOUD.
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Saturday, October 23, 2004
dylan backs howard - twice not thrice
1 tune not lyrics:
“.. but if my songs were just about the words, then what was Duanne Eddy, the great rock and roll guitarist, doing recording an album full of instrumental melodies of my songs? Musicians have always known that my songs were about more than just words, but most people are not musicians.”
2 white picket fence:
"I was fantasising about a nine-to-five existence, a house on a tree-lined block with a white picket fence, pink roses in the backyard.
“.. but if my songs were just about the words, then what was Duanne Eddy, the great rock and roll guitarist, doing recording an album full of instrumental melodies of my songs? Musicians have always known that my songs were about more than just words, but most people are not musicians.”
2 white picket fence:
"I was fantasising about a nine-to-five existence, a house on a tree-lined block with a white picket fence, pink roses in the backyard.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
i'm fit, i'm fightin' fit, but i'm not fit to fight - just yet
In order to protect my psychy, what diminished remnants there was of it after the exercise of universal suffurage on 9/10, i have watched no tv or radio or newspaper current affairs, for seven days or more. I begun to become a somewhat better person or at least a not so grumpy one. I cooked, I read, I oddjobbed, I read, I listened to greatness, hell i even went out and saw The Fabulous Topp Twins. Then at the precise time to the week when I realised that Labor was another 3 years in the wilderness I was struck down by the scrofulous barcoo rot. No matter what I did it stuck to me with the tenacity of a long forgotten tithe to the AoG church. The bug took me down to the gates of the underworld for a few days. I fought it off - it was only one of Satans minor bovver boys anyway.
Slowly I fixed small things around the estate that had needed a hand for a while. I spoke to neighbours, took out and then bought back in the myriad of garbage bins we keep garaged here. I encouraged the wisteria to clime over the toppermost of the highest part of the pergolla.
Tonight I was uplifted further, my faith in ordinary Australians revived, my joy in music rekindled when I watch the ABC Doco: Damn Right I'm A Cowboy - more over at Amandas page about a group of community radio drifting dreaming darlins and daddies of the cowtunes, mixing western swing with crooning and tex mex with irish and pushing it out in an aural version of a progressive barn dance. I wished I was there. Lips so warm and tender ....My Rose My Rose of San Antone....
After making sure the outside speakers set under the eaves are actually working i pilgrimaged out to Bunnings and obtained a medium priced 4 burner BBQ with hood and spacial warming /roasting shelf in an attempt to both project myself as an outdoors type (singing the Lemonheads "I lied about being the outdoors type") and to "take my mind off things" and to allow for a better BBQ experience. This Better BBQ experience involves trying to replicate various smoked, baked, sauced spare pork and beef ribs that I tasted going around USA. The best from memory were from around Denver Colorardo.
Now i need to get the sauces right, the type of meat right, cooking times and methods right and I will be over the 2004 elections and on the road to recovery.
I now call on Little Anthony and the Imperials over at SPICEBLOG Can you direct me to good information on rib cookin that can be used on an a ausssie style BBQ from Bunnings.
Slowly I fixed small things around the estate that had needed a hand for a while. I spoke to neighbours, took out and then bought back in the myriad of garbage bins we keep garaged here. I encouraged the wisteria to clime over the toppermost of the highest part of the pergolla.
Tonight I was uplifted further, my faith in ordinary Australians revived, my joy in music rekindled when I watch the ABC Doco: Damn Right I'm A Cowboy - more over at Amandas page about a group of community radio drifting dreaming darlins and daddies of the cowtunes, mixing western swing with crooning and tex mex with irish and pushing it out in an aural version of a progressive barn dance. I wished I was there. Lips so warm and tender ....My Rose My Rose of San Antone....
After making sure the outside speakers set under the eaves are actually working i pilgrimaged out to Bunnings and obtained a medium priced 4 burner BBQ with hood and spacial warming /roasting shelf in an attempt to both project myself as an outdoors type (singing the Lemonheads "I lied about being the outdoors type") and to "take my mind off things" and to allow for a better BBQ experience. This Better BBQ experience involves trying to replicate various smoked, baked, sauced spare pork and beef ribs that I tasted going around USA. The best from memory were from around Denver Colorardo.
Now i need to get the sauces right, the type of meat right, cooking times and methods right and I will be over the 2004 elections and on the road to recovery.
I now call on Little Anthony and the Imperials over at SPICEBLOG Can you direct me to good information on rib cookin that can be used on an a ausssie style BBQ from Bunnings.
Saturday, October 09, 2004
ready for election night
Now the years have passed and memories come and go
He hears that voice that rocked him gently so
A calm will descend and there's peace at the end of the darkest night
Sometimes I cry, sometimes I fly like a bird.
Now the years have passed and memories come and go
He hears that voice that rocked him gently so
Well, the rain's gonna fall and the wind may blow in the darkest night
Sometimes I cry, sometimes I fly like a bird.
A calm will descend and there's peace at the end of the darkest night
Sometimes I cry, sometimes I fly like a bird
....Boz Scaggs
He hears that voice that rocked him gently so
A calm will descend and there's peace at the end of the darkest night
Sometimes I cry, sometimes I fly like a bird.
Now the years have passed and memories come and go
He hears that voice that rocked him gently so
Well, the rain's gonna fall and the wind may blow in the darkest night
Sometimes I cry, sometimes I fly like a bird.
A calm will descend and there's peace at the end of the darkest night
Sometimes I cry, sometimes I fly like a bird
....Boz Scaggs
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
a diary 2
“Rents due Tuesday – Tiger”
It wasn’t the first time she’d called me Tiger. Last time I couldn’t pay the rent on time she eked the equivalent out of my white-belly thin-legged unbuffed flesh. Not that it was an altogether unpleasant experience or even un-anticipated on my part, but the residual worm of guilt and minor flush of a shame kept me paying interest on the loan emotionally for weeks afterwards.
I’d been down before but never really out. I’d been up before but never really in.
The election announcement revived memories of better times. Of wine in bottles not cardboard boxes. Of meals in cafes on white tablecloths.
My cotton trousers, shirt and jacket didn’t cost any more from Target than trackies and give me an air of respectability, at least in my mind, that sets me apart from the mob in this place.
I grabbed my mug from the dresser, stuck the mail under my arm, filled up from the urn and dropped in two tea bags. Out in the louvered in back veranda a few of the residents were smoking, studying the form guide and drinking beverages with no alcohol.
The window envelopes I shoved in my jacket pocket for later. All of the phone messages were scribbled on the back of one envelope. The not yet ex wife had rung to “catch up. nothing urgent”. In my morning fug I couldn’t dredge up an emotional response to her message. I stuffed it to one side in my mind knowing I would easily find it to make myself feel bad later.
It wasn’t the first time she’d called me Tiger. Last time I couldn’t pay the rent on time she eked the equivalent out of my white-belly thin-legged unbuffed flesh. Not that it was an altogether unpleasant experience or even un-anticipated on my part, but the residual worm of guilt and minor flush of a shame kept me paying interest on the loan emotionally for weeks afterwards.
I’d been down before but never really out. I’d been up before but never really in.
The election announcement revived memories of better times. Of wine in bottles not cardboard boxes. Of meals in cafes on white tablecloths.
My cotton trousers, shirt and jacket didn’t cost any more from Target than trackies and give me an air of respectability, at least in my mind, that sets me apart from the mob in this place.
I grabbed my mug from the dresser, stuck the mail under my arm, filled up from the urn and dropped in two tea bags. Out in the louvered in back veranda a few of the residents were smoking, studying the form guide and drinking beverages with no alcohol.
The window envelopes I shoved in my jacket pocket for later. All of the phone messages were scribbled on the back of one envelope. The not yet ex wife had rung to “catch up. nothing urgent”. In my morning fug I couldn’t dredge up an emotional response to her message. I stuffed it to one side in my mind knowing I would easily find it to make myself feel bad later.
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
hipsters, flipsters and finger-poppin' daddies
Hipsters, flipsters and finger-poppin' daddies,
Knock me your lobes!
I came here to lay Caesar out,
Not to hip you to him.
The bad jazz that a cat blows
Wails long after he's cut out,
The groovy is often stashed with their frames.
So don't put Caesar down...."
.....
What a gas! Willie the Shake flipping wigs once again in this wild, crazy, "hipsemantic" translation of Marc Antony's funeral oration. And what sweet, swingin' stud laid this beautiful jazz down? None other than Lord Richard Buckley - a far out, wailin', nonstop, groovy gasser who stomped virtually unknown through the pages of history. He was known to ridicule an unhip audience, and was not adverse to doing his act with a joint dangling from his lips.
.......
The story of Christ, otherwise known as "The Nazz":
"...and I dig all you cats out there whippin' and whalin' and jumpin' up and down and suckin' up that fine juice, and pattin' each other on the back and tellin' each other who the greatest cat in the woild is. Mr. Malenkoff, Mr. Dalenkoff, Mr. Eisenhower, Woozinweezin, Weisenwoozer, and Mr. Woodhill and Mr. Beechhill and Mr. Churchhill and all them Hills, they gonna get it straight. If they can't straighten it they know a cat that knows a cat that's gonna get it straight. Well, I'm gonna put a cat on you was the sweetest, gonist, wailinest cat that ever stomped on this sweet swingin' sphere. And they call this here cat...the Nazz, that was the cat's name. He was a carpenter kitty. Now the Nazz was the kind of a cat that come on so wild, and so sweet, and so strong and so with it, that when he laid it -WHAM - it stayed there..."
.......
Lord Buckley left behind a substantial, if generally unknown, legacy. Honey Bruce in her autobiography says, "Lenny did vocal impressions of famous stars, but I believe he learned he could use his voice to create many comedy characters from his experiences with Lord Buckley. With Lenny's talents there was no problem coming up with the voices, but it was the dear Lord Buckley who did it first."
Larry Storch, Jonathan Winters, Whoopi Goldberg, and Robin Williams have acknowledged their debt to him. Henry Miller, Greer Garson, and Charlie Parker were some of his admirers. Frank Sinatra was his friend, until His Lordship supposedly marched sixteen naked people through the lobby of the Royal Hawaiian Hotel where Sinatra was performing.
George Harrison's 1977 hit song "Crackerbox Palace" was indeed named after Buckley's tiny Hollywood dwelling. The Mr. Greif referred to in the song was once Buckley's manager, and "...the Lord is well inside of you..." refers to the earthly, not the heavenly, divinity. Jimmy Buffett has recorded and performed an original Buckley number called "God's Own Drunk."
Bob Dylan fell in love with "Black Cross," the story of a black man who is lynched for his supposed lack of religious beliefs. Written by a Cleveland poet named Joseph Newman, it was one of the few works Buckley recited in its original form. Dylan performed "Black Cross" in concert and two bootleg recordings from 1961 and 1962 do exist. If you look closely at the cover of Dylan's album, Bringing It All Back Home, you will see a copy of Buckley's album, The Best of Lord Buckley (Crestview), on the mantle over the fireplace. And Frank Zappa edited His Lordship's LP, a most immaculately hip aristocrat, when he was sixteen years old.
Knock me your lobes!
I came here to lay Caesar out,
Not to hip you to him.
The bad jazz that a cat blows
Wails long after he's cut out,
The groovy is often stashed with their frames.
So don't put Caesar down...."
.....
What a gas! Willie the Shake flipping wigs once again in this wild, crazy, "hipsemantic" translation of Marc Antony's funeral oration. And what sweet, swingin' stud laid this beautiful jazz down? None other than Lord Richard Buckley - a far out, wailin', nonstop, groovy gasser who stomped virtually unknown through the pages of history. He was known to ridicule an unhip audience, and was not adverse to doing his act with a joint dangling from his lips.
.......
The story of Christ, otherwise known as "The Nazz":
"...and I dig all you cats out there whippin' and whalin' and jumpin' up and down and suckin' up that fine juice, and pattin' each other on the back and tellin' each other who the greatest cat in the woild is. Mr. Malenkoff, Mr. Dalenkoff, Mr. Eisenhower, Woozinweezin, Weisenwoozer, and Mr. Woodhill and Mr. Beechhill and Mr. Churchhill and all them Hills, they gonna get it straight. If they can't straighten it they know a cat that knows a cat that's gonna get it straight. Well, I'm gonna put a cat on you was the sweetest, gonist, wailinest cat that ever stomped on this sweet swingin' sphere. And they call this here cat...the Nazz, that was the cat's name. He was a carpenter kitty. Now the Nazz was the kind of a cat that come on so wild, and so sweet, and so strong and so with it, that when he laid it -WHAM - it stayed there..."
.......
Lord Buckley left behind a substantial, if generally unknown, legacy. Honey Bruce in her autobiography says, "Lenny did vocal impressions of famous stars, but I believe he learned he could use his voice to create many comedy characters from his experiences with Lord Buckley. With Lenny's talents there was no problem coming up with the voices, but it was the dear Lord Buckley who did it first."
Larry Storch, Jonathan Winters, Whoopi Goldberg, and Robin Williams have acknowledged their debt to him. Henry Miller, Greer Garson, and Charlie Parker were some of his admirers. Frank Sinatra was his friend, until His Lordship supposedly marched sixteen naked people through the lobby of the Royal Hawaiian Hotel where Sinatra was performing.
George Harrison's 1977 hit song "Crackerbox Palace" was indeed named after Buckley's tiny Hollywood dwelling. The Mr. Greif referred to in the song was once Buckley's manager, and "...the Lord is well inside of you..." refers to the earthly, not the heavenly, divinity. Jimmy Buffett has recorded and performed an original Buckley number called "God's Own Drunk."
Bob Dylan fell in love with "Black Cross," the story of a black man who is lynched for his supposed lack of religious beliefs. Written by a Cleveland poet named Joseph Newman, it was one of the few works Buckley recited in its original form. Dylan performed "Black Cross" in concert and two bootleg recordings from 1961 and 1962 do exist. If you look closely at the cover of Dylan's album, Bringing It All Back Home, you will see a copy of Buckley's album, The Best of Lord Buckley (Crestview), on the mantle over the fireplace. And Frank Zappa edited His Lordship's LP, a most immaculately hip aristocrat, when he was sixteen years old.
Monday, September 20, 2004
flat foot floozie flim flam floogle
A Personal MacVouty Memory - Jim Calvagna
As to Slim what can I say.
It was back in 1952 I was taking a date to Birdland. Usually when I went there I sat in the bleachers over by the bar where there were no tables etc. (i.e. the low rent district ) which Slim affectionately called Wino Junction. Since I had a date, I had to show off and sit at one of the tables on the expensive side (there was a $3.00 minimum per person).
As we came in Slim was playing, when he spotted us he played the first few notes of "Here comes the bride'" and nodded his head yes. I shook my head no. This was repeated several times.
When the tune finished, Slim announced:
" We would like to dedicate this next number to our newlyweds here spending their honeymoon at Birdland. What a drag! If that was me I'd go somewhere and lock the vouty and throw the reeney away."
A few years later we were married, we still are, but we will always remember Slim's dedication.
A few days later I was walking up Broadway and here came Slim the other way.
As he neared me I said:"Mac Vouty!!"
Without missing a beat he responded: "O rissimo reeny!"
FX says: How hip can a cat get?
As to Slim what can I say.
It was back in 1952 I was taking a date to Birdland. Usually when I went there I sat in the bleachers over by the bar where there were no tables etc. (i.e. the low rent district ) which Slim affectionately called Wino Junction. Since I had a date, I had to show off and sit at one of the tables on the expensive side (there was a $3.00 minimum per person).
As we came in Slim was playing, when he spotted us he played the first few notes of "Here comes the bride'" and nodded his head yes. I shook my head no. This was repeated several times.
When the tune finished, Slim announced:
" We would like to dedicate this next number to our newlyweds here spending their honeymoon at Birdland. What a drag! If that was me I'd go somewhere and lock the vouty and throw the reeney away."
A few years later we were married, we still are, but we will always remember Slim's dedication.
A few days later I was walking up Broadway and here came Slim the other way.
As he neared me I said:"Mac Vouty!!"
Without missing a beat he responded: "O rissimo reeny!"
FX says: How hip can a cat get?
Saturday, September 04, 2004
a diary
Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressing gown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air.
It was a day like any other day in the boarding house.
It was the week that was starting to be different.
The clock radio scratched awake half statically untuned to the government station and the news from the un sovieted about another hundred or so deaths. Even as I rolled over and punched the off button I knew that the announcement of the vote a week ago had changed my life forever.
It was 20 past 10 am and cold as a black heart abbott. The mist had penetrated the thin plywood walls of the shelter and seeped its way into the bones and blood of all the residents. Not that we thought of ourselves as joined together by anything except our ambivalence toward mutual obligato and a sullen resistance to the resentful non judgemental assistance of our shared case managers.
The landlady opened the door and shuffled in with a bunch of messages and mail. Only after she was sure I was awake and not going to be another reportable death did she deign to tap on the door with her chipped bright faded red glued on nails.
“There’s been a bloody lot of phone calls for you in the last few days “ She weezed.
“I’m not your friggin' message girl y’know”
The bundle of paper and offcuts that indicated somebody still remembered me landed on the floor with a feint almost thump.
“Rents due Tuesday – Tiger”
It was a day like any other day in the boarding house.
It was the week that was starting to be different.
The clock radio scratched awake half statically untuned to the government station and the news from the un sovieted about another hundred or so deaths. Even as I rolled over and punched the off button I knew that the announcement of the vote a week ago had changed my life forever.
It was 20 past 10 am and cold as a black heart abbott. The mist had penetrated the thin plywood walls of the shelter and seeped its way into the bones and blood of all the residents. Not that we thought of ourselves as joined together by anything except our ambivalence toward mutual obligato and a sullen resistance to the resentful non judgemental assistance of our shared case managers.
The landlady opened the door and shuffled in with a bunch of messages and mail. Only after she was sure I was awake and not going to be another reportable death did she deign to tap on the door with her chipped bright faded red glued on nails.
“There’s been a bloody lot of phone calls for you in the last few days “ She weezed.
“I’m not your friggin' message girl y’know”
The bundle of paper and offcuts that indicated somebody still remembered me landed on the floor with a feint almost thump.
“Rents due Tuesday – Tiger”
Thursday, September 02, 2004
mark (latham) of the beast
"And he {Antichrist} causes all, both small {small rodents} and great, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on their right hand or upon their foreheads, "and that no one may buy or sell except the one who has the mark or the name of the Beast or the number of his name. "Here is wisdom. Let he who has understanding calculate the number of the Beast; for his number is that of a man and his number is 666.
"REV:13:16-18
The campaign period is 6 weeks.
The election will be held on the 6th day of the week.
Voting closes at 6 o'clock.
I have a 6th sense about The Rodent.
666 plus 6
Spooky
References: Here and here and here
"REV:13:16-18
The campaign period is 6 weeks.
The election will be held on the 6th day of the week.
Voting closes at 6 o'clock.
I have a 6th sense about The Rodent.
666 plus 6
Spooky
References: Here and here and here
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
rodent fanciers object to slur
The Queensland branch of the Australian Rodent Fanciers Society has objected to the bad name given rodents by association with lying or by association with John Howard.
The AusRFS is very proud to welcome rat and mouse lovers from all over Australia. Queensland Members of the club may in the future be able to use services provided by other members such as pet sitting, nail clipping, de-lousing and information hotlines.
Rat/Mouse Information Hotline - Email Tracey at theyorks@bigpond.net.au for answers to general questions about rats.
The Australian Mouse and Rat Information Service.
The aims of The Rodent Report is to:
Show people, young and old, just how enjoyable these smaller companion animals are.
I have just subscribed Pete Costello to the Rodent Report so he can discover 'just how enjoyable these smaller companion animals are'.
These 2 rodents below, Boris and Geralton, are up for adoption in Canberra. The hernia and "This boy will be travelling to Sydney for the March Show" makes me think Boris is really JWH. Geralton "He's just a little rough when playing with others" has to be Abbott.
Boris - Fawn Self boy - Canberra
This fawn self boy has a small hernia, and is very good and cuddly by himself, but just too rough with others. He is approx 12 months old. For more details, contact Linda. This boy will be travelling to Sydney for the March Show.
Geralton - Agouti Hood boy - Canberra.
This agouti hood is the perfect cuddly pet. He's just a little rough when playing with others.. He is approx 12 months old and for more details, you can contact Linda. This boy will be travelling to Sydney for the March Show.
The AusRFS is very proud to welcome rat and mouse lovers from all over Australia. Queensland Members of the club may in the future be able to use services provided by other members such as pet sitting, nail clipping, de-lousing and information hotlines.
Rat/Mouse Information Hotline - Email Tracey at theyorks@bigpond.net.au for answers to general questions about rats.
The Australian Mouse and Rat Information Service.
The aims of The Rodent Report is to:
Show people, young and old, just how enjoyable these smaller companion animals are.
I have just subscribed Pete Costello to the Rodent Report so he can discover 'just how enjoyable these smaller companion animals are'.
These 2 rodents below, Boris and Geralton, are up for adoption in Canberra. The hernia and "This boy will be travelling to Sydney for the March Show" makes me think Boris is really JWH. Geralton "He's just a little rough when playing with others" has to be Abbott.
Boris - Fawn Self boy - Canberra
This fawn self boy has a small hernia, and is very good and cuddly by himself, but just too rough with others. He is approx 12 months old. For more details, contact Linda. This boy will be travelling to Sydney for the March Show.
Geralton - Agouti Hood boy - Canberra.
This agouti hood is the perfect cuddly pet. He's just a little rough when playing with others.. He is approx 12 months old and for more details, you can contact Linda. This boy will be travelling to Sydney for the March Show.
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
oz politics easy reference guide
At last a useful, short guide to current to politics in Australia. Provided by the excitable Ms Fits. High Elvis quotient in this one.
Another longer guide, also written to explain Oz politics to USA persons, and Australians who only watch TV, is provided by Tim Dunlop at Road to Surfdom. Low Elvis score.
Another longer guide, also written to explain Oz politics to USA persons, and Australians who only watch TV, is provided by Tim Dunlop at Road to Surfdom. Low Elvis score.
Monday, August 30, 2004
elvis quotient - on watch
The election is now formally on. Formerly it was informally on.
My monitoring of the underbelly will be through "Sheilsey", "Queequeg" and "The Priest" Parish. They will be my main weekly big shop, the supermarket of the Broadway and Off-Broadway.
I'll expect and rely on them to provide a reasonably healthy diet of nutritious angles plus the dubious thrill of reading the feverish comments pecked out by the camp followers with grubby nail bitten fingers on greasy food filled keyboards from the great sweating partially washed with their bloodshot eyes and waxy ears and bed hair and the spewed up heartburn reflux of midnight rants oozing out of the dimly lit fetid bedrooms and the detritus strewn studies of long suffering surfers of suffrage in ozonline.
For my Off-Off-Broadway I'll trawl around the sidestreets and then, as is my want, down the back alleys and garbage lanes of Blogstralia looking for the different, nice, unusual to link to.
Me? I'll stick to looking for the only thing that should influence voting. The only evidence that matters. The Elvis quotient of the candidates.
We all know what it means.
Howard has none. Latham has some. I can't see any in the Libs at all. Bob Brown looks like the sort of guy who can't dance and would wear a bright pale yellow finely knitted v necked jumper for smart casual. No Elvis quotient there. Julia Gillard has got enough Elvis for a duet. There's buggerall Elvis in the Dems now that whatsisname the ex goth boy is off the slops.
Keep tuned for any sightings of Elvisness. Comments and tips welcome.
My monitoring of the underbelly will be through "Sheilsey", "Queequeg" and "The Priest" Parish. They will be my main weekly big shop, the supermarket of the Broadway and Off-Broadway.
I'll expect and rely on them to provide a reasonably healthy diet of nutritious angles plus the dubious thrill of reading the feverish comments pecked out by the camp followers with grubby nail bitten fingers on greasy food filled keyboards from the great sweating partially washed with their bloodshot eyes and waxy ears and bed hair and the spewed up heartburn reflux of midnight rants oozing out of the dimly lit fetid bedrooms and the detritus strewn studies of long suffering surfers of suffrage in ozonline.
For my Off-Off-Broadway I'll trawl around the sidestreets and then, as is my want, down the back alleys and garbage lanes of Blogstralia looking for the different, nice, unusual to link to.
Me? I'll stick to looking for the only thing that should influence voting. The only evidence that matters. The Elvis quotient of the candidates.
We all know what it means.
Howard has none. Latham has some. I can't see any in the Libs at all. Bob Brown looks like the sort of guy who can't dance and would wear a bright pale yellow finely knitted v necked jumper for smart casual. No Elvis quotient there. Julia Gillard has got enough Elvis for a duet. There's buggerall Elvis in the Dems now that whatsisname the ex goth boy is off the slops.
Keep tuned for any sightings of Elvisness. Comments and tips welcome.
abc radio bows to blog pressure
Michael Duffy just announced on his Counterpoint program 10 minutes ago that he has been forced to drop his theme music from the show and choose another.
I just know that it was because I'd pointed out on July 6 here that the themeis was the song "Golden Brown" by The Stranglers. A well known homage to heroin usage.
Now where are the rants against the "political correctness" and "luvvies" of the ABC?
I just know that it was because I'd pointed out on July 6 here that the theme
Now where are the rants against the "political correctness" and "luvvies" of the ABC?
Thursday, August 26, 2004
the trinity, the holy ghost, van
Speaking in tongues: the songs of Van Morrison
Martin Buzacott and Andrew Ford (ABC Books 2005)
Excerpt from Part One
A Soul in Wonder: Themes and Variations
Like Tennyson’s Ulysses, Van Morrison is a part of all that he has met, a storehouse of experience and memory. To listen to Van Morrison singing his songs is to get inside his cluttered mind and follow him on remembered journeys around the East Belfast of his youth, up this street, down that avenue, across the viaducts, beneath the pylons. You’re carrying a window-cleaner’s ladder, on your back a knapsack containing Paris buns, the latest Ray Charles single and a copy of Jack Kerouac’s The Dharma Bums.
The landscape has a familiarity, and yet you feel a sense of wonder. All around you are childhood memories, and they provoke your imagination, inspiring you to the extent that you are constantly searching for a higher meaning and a connection with some perfect silence, most likely to be found in nature or in some ancient past. Frequently disappointed in your quest, and too often encountering shysters and people who distract you or seek to thwart your progress, you soldier on out of a sense of duty and because it’s your job (you are a Protestant and have a work ethic to match). Sometimes when you’re in a good mood you might hanker after a companion who will share the mystical quest with you, and if she’s female, you will walk with her down by the river (or railroad, or avenue), listening together to the wind in the willows, and at the end of the day the two of you might retire inside for a little bit of conversation, play some old blues, soul or jazz records, and then finish it off with that old backstreet jellyroll.
These repeated patterns of creative behaviour —the childhood reminiscences, the spiritual searching, the nature-worship, the homages to musical idols, the themes of innocence, experience and complaint—are everywhere in Morrison’s work. They are the building blocks from which the he constructs his songs and imaginative landscapes [. . .]. And in one of the most consistent careers in popular music, most of [these themes] were there right from the very beginning.
In autumn 1968 when he recorded his first proper solo album, Astral Weeks, Van Morrison had just turned 23. The degree of retrospection embodied in it is, then, surprising. Most 23 year-old men do not sing about their childhood. Most 23 year-old men do not even sing about the past: they sing about their girlfriends or their car, and the songs are in the present tense or in an ideal, chimerical future. But there, on Astral Weeks, on what are still regarded as some of his finest songs—‘Cyprus Avenue, ‘Madame George’, and the album’s title track—Morrison is already busy reminiscing.
Although it was surely never intended, Astral Weeks now seems like a manifesto, a statement of intent: this is the kind of artist I am, and this is what I will remain. In the first verse of the first song—‘Astral Weeks’ itself—we hear about venturing in ‘the slipstream’ which is ‘between the viaducts of your dream’ and we encounter his desire to be ‘born again’. These are words, images and themes that Morrison revisits to this day, and from the start some of these were more transparent in their meaning than others. The viaduct, for instance, is a tangible symbol of his childhood in East Belfast. Singing ‘Summertime in England’ at a New York concert in 1990, he intones the word over and over: ‘Viaduct, viaduct, viaduct, viaduct’. It becomes an incantation of an almost spiritual nature, similar to his whispered pleading at the end of Into the Music (1978) to meet him ‘down by the pylons’. One imagines these viaducts and pylons as symbols of Morrison’s childhood and early teenage years: tadpoles in jam-jars, illicit cigarettes, R&B records and the first, furtive fumblings of adolescent sex.
From the very start of his solo singing career, it was these songs in celebration of an idyllic youth that were least close to jazz, blues, soul or gospel, the popular music forms in which Morrison had been steeped as a child. Most significantly for 1968, the songs on Astral Weeks could hardly have been considered rock and roll ‘in any ordinary or hyphenated sense’, as Greil Marcus wrote at the time. Harmonically, these songs and all the childhood songs that followed tend to have a modal simplicity whose roots are in Celtic folksong . . .
Martin Buzacott and Andrew Ford (ABC Books 2005)
Excerpt from Part One
A Soul in Wonder: Themes and Variations
Like Tennyson’s Ulysses, Van Morrison is a part of all that he has met, a storehouse of experience and memory. To listen to Van Morrison singing his songs is to get inside his cluttered mind and follow him on remembered journeys around the East Belfast of his youth, up this street, down that avenue, across the viaducts, beneath the pylons. You’re carrying a window-cleaner’s ladder, on your back a knapsack containing Paris buns, the latest Ray Charles single and a copy of Jack Kerouac’s The Dharma Bums.
The landscape has a familiarity, and yet you feel a sense of wonder. All around you are childhood memories, and they provoke your imagination, inspiring you to the extent that you are constantly searching for a higher meaning and a connection with some perfect silence, most likely to be found in nature or in some ancient past. Frequently disappointed in your quest, and too often encountering shysters and people who distract you or seek to thwart your progress, you soldier on out of a sense of duty and because it’s your job (you are a Protestant and have a work ethic to match). Sometimes when you’re in a good mood you might hanker after a companion who will share the mystical quest with you, and if she’s female, you will walk with her down by the river (or railroad, or avenue), listening together to the wind in the willows, and at the end of the day the two of you might retire inside for a little bit of conversation, play some old blues, soul or jazz records, and then finish it off with that old backstreet jellyroll.
These repeated patterns of creative behaviour —the childhood reminiscences, the spiritual searching, the nature-worship, the homages to musical idols, the themes of innocence, experience and complaint—are everywhere in Morrison’s work. They are the building blocks from which the he constructs his songs and imaginative landscapes [. . .]. And in one of the most consistent careers in popular music, most of [these themes] were there right from the very beginning.
In autumn 1968 when he recorded his first proper solo album, Astral Weeks, Van Morrison had just turned 23. The degree of retrospection embodied in it is, then, surprising. Most 23 year-old men do not sing about their childhood. Most 23 year-old men do not even sing about the past: they sing about their girlfriends or their car, and the songs are in the present tense or in an ideal, chimerical future. But there, on Astral Weeks, on what are still regarded as some of his finest songs—‘Cyprus Avenue, ‘Madame George’, and the album’s title track—Morrison is already busy reminiscing.
Although it was surely never intended, Astral Weeks now seems like a manifesto, a statement of intent: this is the kind of artist I am, and this is what I will remain. In the first verse of the first song—‘Astral Weeks’ itself—we hear about venturing in ‘the slipstream’ which is ‘between the viaducts of your dream’ and we encounter his desire to be ‘born again’. These are words, images and themes that Morrison revisits to this day, and from the start some of these were more transparent in their meaning than others. The viaduct, for instance, is a tangible symbol of his childhood in East Belfast. Singing ‘Summertime in England’ at a New York concert in 1990, he intones the word over and over: ‘Viaduct, viaduct, viaduct, viaduct’. It becomes an incantation of an almost spiritual nature, similar to his whispered pleading at the end of Into the Music (1978) to meet him ‘down by the pylons’. One imagines these viaducts and pylons as symbols of Morrison’s childhood and early teenage years: tadpoles in jam-jars, illicit cigarettes, R&B records and the first, furtive fumblings of adolescent sex.
From the very start of his solo singing career, it was these songs in celebration of an idyllic youth that were least close to jazz, blues, soul or gospel, the popular music forms in which Morrison had been steeped as a child. Most significantly for 1968, the songs on Astral Weeks could hardly have been considered rock and roll ‘in any ordinary or hyphenated sense’, as Greil Marcus wrote at the time. Harmonically, these songs and all the childhood songs that followed tend to have a modal simplicity whose roots are in Celtic folksong . . .
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
might come in handy one day
In 1989 the American musicologist Alan W. Pollack started to analyze the songs of the Beatles. He published his first results on internet. In 1991 -- after he had finished the work on 28 songs -- he bravely decided to do the whole lot of them. About ten years later, in 2000 he completed the analysis of the official Beatles' canon, consisting of 187 songs and 25 covers. Here we have ordered this massive work in five categories.
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
ruby ann boxcar
Shes really funny. Clever. She was on ABC radio this afternoon, running rings around the private school girl presenter de jour.
From her website:
"Needless to say, Melbourne can be summed up in one word...BEAUTIFUL. Talk about pretty. And the people were so nice. Actually I'm writin' this here from the beautiful hotel them folks put me and my husband Dew in down in downtown Melbourne.
The only problem I've had to far was a freek accident. You see, it's winter time over here, which I LOVE, so I kind of came down with a little tingle in my throat on the first day I arrived. Well, I just popped a eucalyptus flavored cough drop in my mouth, and before you could say, "He Matilda is your dance card filled," I was attacked by a group of them Koala bears. They was on me like skank on my sister. They all was tryin' to suck that dog gone cough drop out of my mouth. To be honest with y'all, I think that was the first time I'd ever French kissed something that wasn't my husband or a relative. Anyways, I managed to break free and spit that dog gone thing clear across the street, and they got after that thing like my daddy on a wing at KFC after church on Sunday afternoon.
But like I was sayin', these folks down under are some of the most wonderful people you'll ever get to meet outside of a trailer park. But I'll have more of that for y'all next month. For now I got to run. My husband sleep medicine has finally kicked in and I'm feelin' robust. "
So if you're in the Melbourne area come and see me cook up a dish on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, August 27, 28, and 29, around 1 PM at the Malthouse or you can attend my one woman show, The Ruby Ann Boxcar Experience, on Sunday August 29 around 2 PM at the Malthouse. For more information call +61 (0)3 9645 9244
From her website:
"Needless to say, Melbourne can be summed up in one word...BEAUTIFUL. Talk about pretty. And the people were so nice. Actually I'm writin' this here from the beautiful hotel them folks put me and my husband Dew in down in downtown Melbourne.
The only problem I've had to far was a freek accident. You see, it's winter time over here, which I LOVE, so I kind of came down with a little tingle in my throat on the first day I arrived. Well, I just popped a eucalyptus flavored cough drop in my mouth, and before you could say, "He Matilda is your dance card filled," I was attacked by a group of them Koala bears. They was on me like skank on my sister. They all was tryin' to suck that dog gone cough drop out of my mouth. To be honest with y'all, I think that was the first time I'd ever French kissed something that wasn't my husband or a relative. Anyways, I managed to break free and spit that dog gone thing clear across the street, and they got after that thing like my daddy on a wing at KFC after church on Sunday afternoon.
But like I was sayin', these folks down under are some of the most wonderful people you'll ever get to meet outside of a trailer park. But I'll have more of that for y'all next month. For now I got to run. My husband sleep medicine has finally kicked in and I'm feelin' robust. "
So if you're in the Melbourne area come and see me cook up a dish on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, August 27, 28, and 29, around 1 PM at the Malthouse or you can attend my one woman show, The Ruby Ann Boxcar Experience, on Sunday August 29 around 2 PM at the Malthouse. For more information call +61 (0)3 9645 9244
Sunday, August 22, 2004
Thursday, August 19, 2004
bob + willie + western swing = bliss
"THE BOB DYLAN SHOW" TO PLAY IN 22 MINOR LEAGUE BASEBALL PARKS ON SUMMER TOUR . Joining Bob Dylan on the tour are Willie Nelson and Family and The Hot Club Of Cowtown. Kids under 12 will be admitted free with an adult ticket holder. Gig list, venues and dates
Campanelli Stadium Brockton. Sunday 15 Aug 2004
......Nelson, 71, took stage first, playing his classic hits, such as "Whiskey River," "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain," "Georgia on my Mind," "Good Hearted Woman," and "Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow up to be Cowboys."
Nelson played 25 songs in a 90-minute set, grinning and waving to audience members the entire time.
At various points during the show, Nelson tossed his hat or bandana into the crowd, only to have fans throw their own hats back to him. The crowd went wild at one point, when Nelson tossed his cowboy hat into the crowd and put on a Boston Red Sox cap a fan had thrown on stage.
While Nelson interacted with the audience, Dylan, in typical Dylan-fashion, only addressed the audience once — when he introduced his band at the end of his set. Still, his fans loved him.
Dylan's playlist consisted of very few of his classic tunes. He played mostly his more obscure Christian and gospel songs, and blues songs off his 1997 "Love and Theft" album. [my emphasis]
After playing a 12-song set, Dylan played a three-song encore, consisting of mainstream hits, "Mr. Tambourine Man," "Like a Rolling Stone," and "All Along the Watchtower," which brought about shouts of, "Yeah Bobby!" from the crowd.
Also in his typical, Chaplain-esque way, Dylan bounced and bobbled around stage seemingly in his own world.
At one point in the show, he stood in center stage looking like he was holding an air guitar, only to wander off stage and back on again.......
Campanelli Stadium Brockton. Sunday 15 Aug 2004
......Nelson, 71, took stage first, playing his classic hits, such as "Whiskey River," "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain," "Georgia on my Mind," "Good Hearted Woman," and "Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow up to be Cowboys."
Nelson played 25 songs in a 90-minute set, grinning and waving to audience members the entire time.
At various points during the show, Nelson tossed his hat or bandana into the crowd, only to have fans throw their own hats back to him. The crowd went wild at one point, when Nelson tossed his cowboy hat into the crowd and put on a Boston Red Sox cap a fan had thrown on stage.
While Nelson interacted with the audience, Dylan, in typical Dylan-fashion, only addressed the audience once — when he introduced his band at the end of his set. Still, his fans loved him.
Dylan's playlist consisted of very few of his classic tunes. He played mostly his more obscure Christian and gospel songs, and blues songs off his 1997 "Love and Theft" album. [my emphasis]
After playing a 12-song set, Dylan played a three-song encore, consisting of mainstream hits, "Mr. Tambourine Man," "Like a Rolling Stone," and "All Along the Watchtower," which brought about shouts of, "Yeah Bobby!" from the crowd.
Also in his typical, Chaplain-esque way, Dylan bounced and bobbled around stage seemingly in his own world.
At one point in the show, he stood in center stage looking like he was holding an air guitar, only to wander off stage and back on again.......
porn - moral panic
A bunch of idiots in the Labor party have come out in favour of internet filtering.
Jason Soon uses this to point out "that Labor has been captured by the Wowser Left in the shape of reactionary Tory socialist Clive Hamilton".
Irene Graham of the Electronic Frontiers Australia Inc. (EFA) has a personal web site full of censorship history and facts about filtering.
UPDATE: Al Bundy, Prof Bunyip's milder nephew, has taken apart the Australia Institute's porn polemic far better than I could.
UPDATE ON UPDATE: Ken Parish over at Troppo Armadillo has the beginnings of a thoughtful thread emerging on the latest porn filtering gambit.
Paul Watson reckons its because Hamilton is a baby boomer. Watson suggests that men who don't know how to handle women should become Friends of Dorothy and makes a subtle but self sacrificing offer - "I’m over here, guys! Now that porn’s corrupted you, poofterdom is more than ready to offer you a healthy sexual relationship!" [..more..]
UPDATE 3: Barista builds up a 15 bar pump head of steam and pulls the lever on the Gaggia and serves up a hot double shot of black on the porn issue.
Jason Soon uses this to point out "that Labor has been captured by the Wowser Left in the shape of reactionary Tory socialist Clive Hamilton".
Irene Graham of the Electronic Frontiers Australia Inc. (EFA) has a personal web site full of censorship history and facts about filtering.
UPDATE: Al Bundy, Prof Bunyip's milder nephew, has taken apart the Australia Institute's porn polemic far better than I could.
UPDATE ON UPDATE: Ken Parish over at Troppo Armadillo has the beginnings of a thoughtful thread emerging on the latest porn filtering gambit.
Paul Watson reckons its because Hamilton is a baby boomer. Watson suggests that men who don't know how to handle women should become Friends of Dorothy and makes a subtle but self sacrificing offer - "I’m over here, guys! Now that porn’s corrupted you, poofterdom is more than ready to offer you a healthy sexual relationship!" [..more..]
UPDATE 3: Barista builds up a 15 bar pump head of steam and pulls the lever on the Gaggia and serves up a hot double shot of black on the porn issue.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
busy week already
Its only Tuesday and the week is already a disconcerting blur.
On the radio is Toots Hibbert singing "Maggies Farm" from the album Is It Rolling, Bob? an album of Bob Dylan songs by reggae artists. I prefer Bob doing his own raggae on "At Budakan". I still think Pressure Drop is one of the best songs ever partly because it always grabs me and partly because I don't think anyone knows what its about and partly because I remember reading an interview where Toots said he didn't know what it was about. But we all know what it means. I was out of the country when Toots was playing live here this year.
A bunch of idiots in the Labor party have come out in favour of internet filtering. Jason Soon uses this to point out "that Labor has been captured by the Wowser Left in the shape of reactionary Tory socialist Clive Hamilton".
Irene Graham of the Electronic Frontiers Australia Inc. (EFA) has a personal web site full of censorship history and facts about filtering.
UPDATE: Al Bundy, Prof Bunyip's milder nephew, has taken apart the Australia Institute's porn polemic far better than I could.
Why on earth has Scrafton undertaken the "lie detector" test? I thought he was travelling well until then. Back Pages has a few good threads on the matter.
On a brighter note. Amanda from Flop Eared Mule tells me that Todd Snider has a new album "East Nashville Skyline" with good serious content. I always knew he could do it. Great interview with Todd and Lone Star Music.
Oh and I discovered a wonderful 1957 piece by Roland Barthes on the Citroen Goddess. I guess in 1957 post modern was just modern.
On the radio is Toots Hibbert singing "Maggies Farm" from the album Is It Rolling, Bob? an album of Bob Dylan songs by reggae artists. I prefer Bob doing his own raggae on "At Budakan". I still think Pressure Drop is one of the best songs ever partly because it always grabs me and partly because I don't think anyone knows what its about and partly because I remember reading an interview where Toots said he didn't know what it was about. But we all know what it means. I was out of the country when Toots was playing live here this year.
A bunch of idiots in the Labor party have come out in favour of internet filtering. Jason Soon uses this to point out "that Labor has been captured by the Wowser Left in the shape of reactionary Tory socialist Clive Hamilton".
Irene Graham of the Electronic Frontiers Australia Inc. (EFA) has a personal web site full of censorship history and facts about filtering.
UPDATE: Al Bundy, Prof Bunyip's milder nephew, has taken apart the Australia Institute's porn polemic far better than I could.
Why on earth has Scrafton undertaken the "lie detector" test? I thought he was travelling well until then. Back Pages has a few good threads on the matter.
On a brighter note. Amanda from Flop Eared Mule tells me that Todd Snider has a new album "East Nashville Skyline" with good serious content. I always knew he could do it. Great interview with Todd and Lone Star Music.
Oh and I discovered a wonderful 1957 piece by Roland Barthes on the Citroen Goddess. I guess in 1957 post modern was just modern.
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