Verging on Pertinence

15 books that come to mind in 15 minutes, as per Bleak Mouse (He’s ……ALIVE!) via Cowtown Pattie via Whisky Prajer, in no order of importance.


The timer is on.

1) Blood of the Lamb by Peter DeVries. I’ll let Mr. WP have the last word on this novel.
2) Catch-22 by Joseph Heller. The best introduction to the ridiculousness of the world and anything involving plans to a young man.
3) Meet Mr. Mulliner by P.G. Wodehouse. Because everyone enjoys a good story even when button-holed before leaving the premises.
4) Good Night Moon by Margaret Wise Brown. Because sleep and the road to sleep are sacred.
5) The Life and Extraordinary Adventures of Private Ivan Chonkin by Vladimir Voinovich. Chonkin is Schweik's Russian cousin who proves stupidity is the wisest position to assume when dealing with the insanity of war.
6) Immortality by Milan Kundera. It's between Calvino and Kundera, for me, as to who's the most beautiful and heavy-hitting of writers.
7)Good Soldier Schweik by Jaroslav Hasek. War is ridiculous. The Army's a joke. Hey! Let's go have an Urquell.
8) Riders of the Purple Sage by Zane Grey. Idealism on a horse that never shits.
9) The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler. The best laid plans on how to use adjectives.
10) Spinky Sulks by William Steig. "Then they made him watch a parade!" How cruel can parents get!?!?
11) The Sportswriter by Richard Ford. Jersey, low level smolder and collapse.
12) If On a Winter’s Night, a Traveller by Italo Calvino. Calvino is in another world gliding by like a satellite you'll never be on.
13) East of Eden by John Steinbeck. I read this after college on a 4 month hitchhiking trip through Europe. Steinbeck scared the shit out of me as to how great a writer he was.
14)Nobody's Fool by Richard Russo. Every day dialogue spun to a cherished and unforgotten poem.
15) It's very hard to make one pick of Billy Collins' books of poems, so I'll go with The Art of Drowning. I carry one of his books, usually this one, in my briefcase daily. I pull it out and open haphazardly for a blessing for a difficult day. He is, IMHO, the most accessible poet of mulled over observations, whose delight in things mundane brings nobility to each day's passing.

Faithful readers, please, start ruminating in the next 15 minutes and make your own picks.

Labels: Memes

As per my request, of the six folks meme-tagged on Thursday, June 21st, the following hav graciously and quite humorously responded. My thanks and apologies go out to all of you. Some VERY random and revealing observations, indeed.

Whisky Prajer
Alcessa
Xenoverse
Hillbilly, Please
*** New Addition on 6/26/07 *** Texas Trifles (She had a very legit reason for the delay. A daughter getting married. Congrats, CP!

Still mulling things over, while waiting for a bolt of lightening to randomize his thoughts is:

Isoglossia

Mr.Sgazzetti is in an especially tight pickle as he has been meme-tagged twice (this being equivalent to multiple dope slaps), by Gwynne and myself. Getting out of that double hit will tax the deep well of his diplomatic skills. Oh, yeah. We're still waiting for the Pose of the Satin P.J.'s.

Labels: Memes

Gwynne over at The Shallow End has tagged me while I was not looking. The noose of the meme she's coralled me with is as such. I must list 7 random things about myself and then encourage 7 other souls to do the same. I will endeavour on the former but I can't promise on the latter. Seems this meme's going around and affecting quite a few folks. This version of the meme, with the number upped to 8, is a beauty and one that will be impossible to top. Darn you, Colleen Wainwright! Not that this is a competition, you know.

So, on my mark...get set.....MEME!

1) I almost did not make it to the States alive. While on the freighter that brought my family over to join my dad in Jersey, we ran into your typical nasty Atlantic edge of hurricane storm. Being a young lad, still ripe to follow Darwin's Law, I was walking on one of the decks when a large wave washed me off my feet and out toward the roiling seas. Luckily, one leg landed on one side of a thin pole and the other leg landed on the other side of the same pole, causing much pain (but no permanent damage as evidence by my offspring) to the items between my legs. I was able to crawl inside a cabin before the next wave hit.

2) Prior to my escapades at sea, I was spending summer holidays at one of my cousin's farm on a river seperating Bosnia-Hercogovina and Croatia (back in the day when they were all republics and part of Yugoslavia), when I was told that we'd be leaving Yugoslavia and coming to America. I hid in a wooden barrel for 5 hours, thinking my mother and relatives would forget about me and leave.
No such luck.

3) The first time that I skiied, my college roomie, an expert skier from New Hampshire, took me to the top of Owl's Head, pointed me down a black diamond trail, and gently pushed me, yelling over my screams, "This is the best way to get your legs!". Turned out he was right. Sink or swim, I guess...

4)...which brings me to how I learned to swim. We were on holidays on the Croatian coast, taking a leisurely day sail on a fishing/sailing boat, going from island to island. We anchored at a cove. I watched the anchor drop 100 feet into the water, raising a dust of sand as it hit the bottom. I was five and loved the water as long as I was surrounded by inflatables. Without so much as a word, my mom picked me up from my lunch place and threw me into the water. Without a tube. I remember I sank to the bottom; my mother remembers me going under once and then churning up water as I doggy-paddled around the boat until I found some rope to grip onto. The end of the escapade? I stayed in the water and swam for hours, while also yelling at my mother through sputters of salty water.

5) I've been either a registered Independent or Democrat voter since I was 18 and yet I voted for Nixon. Twice. My time in Purgatory is guaranteed. I blame it on ping-pong diplomacy. I've never voted for a Republican Presidential candidate since.

6) In college, I banked at the same location as Henri Richard. He had a brasserie nearby and would come in to empty his till on occasion. I also saw Jean Beliveau there once. If God himself had banked there, I don't think there would have been as great reverence exhibited toward someone. It was amazing.

7) When my son was born and while my Ever Loving Wife was somewhat incapacitated, I was tempted to fill out the birth certificate by writing BeBop as his middle name. Fortunately (or is that unfortunately), temptation did not lead to action.


O.K., now for the drum roll.
My apologies, folks.

Whisky Prajer
Hillbilly, Please
Isoglossia (Yes, you've been taged twice)
Xenoverse
Texas Trifles
Alcessa

I'll stop at Six. Enough punishment has been dispensed.

Labels: Memes

Thanks to Gwynn over at The Shallow End for this meme. I've been having some slow days recently so this Concert List thing is right up my alley. I claim the right to amend this list as my head clears fo the detritus lodged there since the 70's and 80's. I know there were concerts attended and not listed that can be truly embarrassing at this stage of my life. So, I'll plead for penance and for the chance to add them on at a later time.

In a stream of consciousness order. No dates provided to minimize the visitation of Father Time.

Stephane Grappelli (NYC)
Shadowfax (Philly)
Taj Mahal (Philly (A few times), Montreal, NYC, Jersey)
Bonnie Raitt (Philly (A few times), NC, Jersey)
Steve Goodman (Montreal, NYC)
Rory Block (Philly Folk Festival)
Moxy Fruvous (Philly, Jersey)
Stanley Jordan (NYC club and NYC streets)
Lyle May (Montreal)
Greg Brown (7-8 times, Philly, Jersey, NYC)
Iris Dement (Washington DC)
John Prine (Washington DC, Philly Folk Festival, Jersey)
J Geils Band (Montreal)
Thin Lizzy (Montreal)
Black Sabbath (Montreal. Ozzy was still quite thin and could walk with minimal assistance)
Loudon Wainwright III (10+ times, Philly, Montreal, Newark, DE, Jersey, NC)
Taj Mahal (3-4 times, Philly, Jersey, NC)
Little Feat (when Lowell George was still alive) (NYC, Raleigh)
Grateful Dead (Jersey, NYC, NC…and NOT counting the multiple times they canceled at last minute)
Allman Brothers Band (unfortunately never w/ Duane) (Jersey)
Grinderswitch (Jersey)
Rick Derringer (Jersey)
Johnny Winter (Philly, Jersey)
Edgar Winter (Jersey)
The Blasters (NYC)
Marshall Tucker Band (Jersey)
JD Souther (Jersey)
Orleans (Jersey)
Lynryd Skynyrd (Montreal, Jersey)
Jackson Browne (Jersey, NYC)
Genesis (w/ Peter Gabriel) (4 times, Montreal, NYC)
Genesis (w/ Collins) (Once and that was enough, Montreal)
Pink Floyd (Montreal 2 times, Jersey)
Leon Russell (Montreal)
Bob Dylan (NYC)
Bob Dylan w/ Rolling Thunder (Montreal)
Eric Clapton (Montreal)
BB King (Montreal 2 times, Philly, NYC)
Sarah Vaughan (NYC)
Joe Pass (Jersey)
Beach Boys ( NYC, Jersey)
Bruce Springsteen (5-6 times, Montreal , Ottawa, NYC, Jersey)
Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown (Philly, Wilmington)
Magic Slim & The Teardrops (Wilmington 3 times, Philly)
Rod Piazza & the Mighty Flyers (Philly, twice)
Riders of the Purple Sage (Jersey)
McGarrigle Sisters (Montreal, Philly)
Dexter Gordon (Montreal)
Rush (Montreal)
Rory Gallagher (3 times. Montreal)
Preservation Hall Jazz Band (Montreal, NYC, NOLA)
Dirty Dozen Brass Band (NOLA)
James Taylor (Jersey)
Jerry Jeff Walker (NYC)
Wynton Marsalis (Wilmington)
Branford Marsalis (Philly)
Keb Mo (Philly 3-4 times)
Koko Taylor (NYC, Philly 2 times)
James Cotton (Philly, Wilmington (a month before he died))
Buddy Guy ( 3 times, 1 time he was actually good. Philly, Jersey)
Liz Story (Philly)
Bucky Pizzerrelli (Philly)
Dizzy Gillespie (NYC)
Cedar Walton (6-7 times, NYC, Philly, Jersey)
Charles Musselwhite (NYC, Philly, Wilmington)
Coco Montoya (Philly)
Jim Hall (NYC)
Shemekia Copeland (3 times, Philly)
Johnny "Clyde" Copeland (2 times. Philly)
Robin Trower (Jersey)
Richard Thompson ( 7-8 times. Philly, Jersey, NYC, Montreal)
Fairport Convention (w/ R. Thompson. NYC)
Camel
Frank Zappa (Montreal, NYC)
Savoy Brown
Uriah Heep
King Crimson (4-5 times. Philly, Montreal, NYC)
Rolling Stones (NYC)
April Wine (2-3 times. NYC, Montreal)
Keith Richards (Philly)
Stevie Ray Vaughan (Philly)
Cyrus Chestnut (Philly, NYC)
George Winston (Wilmington)
Ladysmith Black Mambazo (Wilmington, Philly)
Sweet Honey in the Rock (Wilmington, Philly)
Leo Kotke (Wilmington, NYC)
David Grisman (NYC, Wilmington, Philly)
Dr. John (Phily, Wilmington, Montreal)
John Mayall (Montreal)
Carla Bley (Montreal, Philly)
Keith Jarrett (Jersey)
Brad Mehldau (Philly)
Los Hombres Calientes (Philly)
Herbie Hancock (Philly)
Clark Terry (Jersey)
Sonny Rollins (Jersey, NYC, Philly)
Roches (Montreal, Philly, NYC)
Guy Davis (3-4 times. Philly)
Harmonica Fats (Philly)
Climax Blues Band (Montreal, NYC)
Jaco Pastorius (Montreal)
Marcia Ball (Philly)
Los Lobos (Philly 3 times, NYC)
The Meters (Philly)
Pat Metheny (Montreal 2 times, NYC, Philly)
Joni Mitchell (Jersey, Philly)
Blue Oyster Cult (Long Island, NYC)
Dan Fogelberg (Yes, I admit going to 1 concert in Jersey!)
Peter Frampton (Montreal. An old girlfriend is the only reason I went. What one does for love)
Cassandra Wilson (3-4 times. Philly, NYC)
Widespread Depression Orchestra (Montreal, NYC)
Elton John (Montreal way way way back in the day)
Al Jarreau (Philly)
Marah (Philly)
Subdudes (3-4 times. Philly)
Jimmy Buffet (Florida, way back before the Parrothead phenomenon)
Eagles (Jersey)
Joe Walsh (NYC)
Chico Hamilton (Jersey)
Christian McBride (Jersey)
3 Mustaphas 3 (Philly. No laughing; these guys are fabulous!)
Art Farmer (Wilmington)
Brian Blade (Philly)
Wallace Coleman Band (Wilmington) (Great harp playing. Catch him before he passes away!!)
Bobby Rush (Philly)
Bobby Blue Bland (Philly)
Mavis Staples (Philly)
Lil' Ed and the Blues Imperials (Philly)
Big Time Sarah and The BTS Express (Philly)
Holmes Brothers (Philly, Wilmington)
John Mooney (Philly)
Cephas & Wiggins (4-5 times. Philly, Wilmington)
Joe Louis Walker (Philly)
W. C. Clark (Philly)
Lady Bianca (Philly)
Carey Bell (Philly)
Otis Rush (Philly)
Snooky Pryor & Pinetop Perkins (Philly)
Otis Clay (Philly)
Son Seals (Philly)
Irma Thomas (Philly)
Paul Delay (Philly)
Big Mama Thornton (Montreal)
Valdy (Montreal…don’t ask)
James Moody (Philly, NYC)
McCoy Tyner (Philly, NYC)
George Thorogood & the Delaware Destroyers (Chapel Hill)
Jefferson Airplane( NYC)..and then..
Jefferson Starship (NYC...not sure what I was thinking, except it was one of those free NYC in the Summer concerts)
Crosby, Stills, & Nash (NYC)
Neil Young (NYC)
Jason Moran (Philly. Twice)
David Bromberg (Raleigh)
Eileen Ivers (Philly, Wilmington) The latter time, it was a concert in a very old stone barn. One of the most memorable concerts I ever went to. She was devine.)
The Roots (Philly)
Common (Philly)
Chris Smithers (Philly, Wilmington)
Natalie McMasters (Wilmington Twice)
Regina Carter (Philly)
John Blake (Philly)
Claude Williams (Wilmington)
Bill Frissell (NYC, Philly)
Beausoleil (w/ Michael Doucet) (5-6 times. Philly, Wilmington, NYC)
Michael Doucet (Wilmington)
Shawn Colvin (Wilmington, Philly)
Youssou n'Dour (Philly)
Samite (Philly)
Head, Hands, & Feet (Montreal)
Rickie Lee Jones (NYC)
Southside Johnny (Philly)
Chico Freeman (Jersey)
Foghat (Montreal)
Jeff Beck (Montreal)
Stanley Jordan (NYC)
James CArter (Philly)
Johnny Cash (Newark, DE)
Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee (Philly)
Little Charlie & the Nightcats (Philly)
Ani DiFranco (Philly)
Hubert Sumlin (Philly)
The Who (Montreal, w/ Keith Moon)
Chicago (montreal)
Emerson, Lake, & Palmer (Montreal)
Jethro Tull (Montreal)
Manfred Mann (Montreal)
Steve Miller (Jersey)
NRBQ (Philly)
Poco (Jersey)
Lou Reed (NYC)
SAntana (Montreal)
Amazing Rhythm Aces (Montreal)
Commander COdy and his Lost Planet Airmen (Montreal)
Hawkwind (Montreal)
Jimmy Bosch (Philly)
Galactic (Philly)
Yes (Montreal. Twice. Rick Wakeman was still on keyboards)
Flash (Montreal)
Alice Cooper (Montreal)
Bette Midler (Philly) She was/is a hoot! This was the "Give Dubya Some S$@%" tour.

I’ll stop here, although I know I’m missing a bunch.


Reviewing this list, I was rather surprised that out of the soup of memories from my college days in Montreal, so much came back. I’m sure I’ve missed at least 30-40% of the concerts I went to during those days due to non-memorable performances, mis-firing synapses, and intentionally mis-laid memories of forgettable evenings.


Some of the acts I caught were playing at the Pocono Blues Festival, an annual 3 day blues festival that I've attended 4 times. So, it may be considered padding on my part to list the performers that I remembered from those four years. But, if the meme list is supposed to be performers at concert... well ?

What's left to do but to meme some other folks! I believe Whisky Prajer will have a long and interesting list and Xenoverse should provide much to ponder; I'm sure he'll be listing operas of the Sturm und Drang variety.

Labels: Memes

...goes the refrain to Richard Thompson's song, "For Shame of Doing Wrong" , one of the many heartbreakers from his and (his then) wife, Linda's, 1975 album, Pour Down Like Silver.

Thompson, he of the original Fairport Convention, has been a prolific songwriter and a guitar player of a long and a favorably critiqued career. Anyone who can incorporate renege in a song title (Don't Renege on Our Love) is of a different caliber. Why bungle around with inadequate explanations, when I can point out this most excellent of blog posts by Jaideep Varma to explain Mr. Richard Thompson.

I'll, instead, point out Heartbreaker Song # 10. Since Cowtown Pattie and I were memed by Whisky Prajer to offer variations on his own list of tearjerkers, I've been re-visiting old haunts. Well, at least going on figurative trips. There was a long list of contending songs to fit into the 10 limit list. Some of the candidates that did not make it, not due to their limitations but, rather, my decision-making were:
1) Jackson Browne's "Late for the Sky" album. The whole album, counted as on very long song. When I do listen to this album, I can't just start and stop with one song. It's got to be the whole thing.
2) Cassandra Wilson's version of the Patsy CLine made-famous-but-written-by Willie Nelson song, "Crazy".
3) Loudon Wainwright III's "A Father and a Son", or "Missing You", or "Men" ....or this list can go on for a long time..
4) Holmes Brothers' version of "He'll Have to Go". "Put your sweet lips...."

The ultimate song turned out to be Richard Thompson's "Dimming of the Day", another song from Pour Down Like Silver.

Dimming of the Day

This old house is falling down around my ears
I'm drowning in a river of my tears.
When all my will is gone you hold me sway
I need you at the dimming of the day.

You pull me like the moon pulls on the tide.
You know just where I keep my better side.

What days have come to keep us far apart
A broken promise or a broken heart.
Now all the bonnie birds have wheeled away
I need you at the dimming of the day.

Come the night you're only what I want.
Come the night you could be my confident.

I see you on the street in company
Why don't you come and ease your mind with me.
I'm living for the night we steal away.
I need you at the dimming of the day.
I need you at the dimming of the day.

Thompson's lyrics, always cut free of any excess, are almost kind here. Well, at least not as bitter as he certainly can be.

You pull me like the moon pulls on the tide.
You know just where I keep my better side. What better way to describe your life's mate than these two simple lines?

....and have these two simple lines come from the mouth of Linda Thompson? No treacle, no sap. Can one be sturdy and yet melt simulataneously? For some reason, her rendition and Richard Thompson's lyrics of the song bring up visions of this film. Emma Thompson, she be at the dimming.

Thanks to all my readers for pulling through this list. Hope some songs rang familiar. Hope others prompted a listen to.

(This is # 10 of Ten Heartbreakers as memed by Whisky Prajer)

Labels: Memes, Recording Reviews

So, it's a Billy Bragg tune... again, that brings the Hearbreaker Song List up to 9.

The sorrow and pain of loss and heartbreak are a touchy subject, one not prone to levity lightly. Death and the end of a relationship do not usually elicit a laugh, hardly ever a smile. Even the loss of an object can be a minefield of an event. How can we get upset about losing or giving up an inanimate thing? True, we have loved it, possibly even hugged it. But, it’s never returned the warmth nor the feelings (unless you’ve had a "thing" for a radiator).

A few years back. Well, a lot of a few years back when our living quarters were tight and our first-born was knocking on delivery’s door, one of those "It’s either me (and the baby enclosed therein) or those things! You decide"! moments came up between the ever-loving wife and I.

Those things happened to be the around 1,000 albums or so stashed in different boxes in the puny apartment. They had been accumulated mainly in college and the single years thereafter. We had been companions for quite a bit of time. They had traveled with me from and to my various places of residence in Montreal, New Jersey, North Carolina, & Delaware. Wear and tear, nick and gouge, the vinyl was always there for me in our one-sided relationship (I listened, they played) from late teenage years to pseudo-adult years. As I'd moved from dorm room to a long series of apartments, the weight of the boxes of LP’s became heavier, slightly due to an increase in the collection but more so (at least that's what my self-delusional conversations ended up concluding) due to the emotion, fun, tears, rage and empathy that I’d put into listening to them. The vinyl records were my emotional sponge. For a guy who was not too quick on the verbal uptake, this collection of songs were the physical evidence of my moral, spiritual, and loving depth.

How many times had I used some of these records to speak for me when I found my mouth dry of words?
How often was Jackson Browne, with his "Late for the Sky" album, Cyrano to my Christian de Neuvillette? (Not that Mr. Browne had a proboscis problem).
How many times did I call on Muddy Waters to double for me when I couldn’t be satisfied?

Now a key moment in my adulthood was calling for a deliberation of critical proportions. My records. My son.
Which of These?

As if responding to Bring out your dead!, boxes and boxes of albums were loaded into the car. The shocks sagged, the car resembled a low-rider as I slowly drove away, at hearse speed.
Heartbreak a plenty. Little did I know what pain lay ahead.

Hauling the LP’s into the record shop was a chore. 800 records weigh quite a bit and when you’re carrying them up two flights of stairs in beat up boxes, the weight seemed more. The owner of the emporium, a fellow who was later busted for burglary and running a fencing operation was quite the expert of assessing non-emotional value to my collection. Around 500 records he found totally worthless, even though he (reluctantly) acknowledged their mint condition. Of the balance of 300, some were worth one buck and about 50 or so $5.00.
I was speechless. The multiple trips up and down the multiple stairs had left me winded. No, make that had me leaning against a wall doubled over in asthmathic shock. Yeah, that reads more tragic.
So, I was speechless and breathless. All that oxygen not getting up to my head left me incapable of any verbal protest.
I took the money and bid my (limited) past goodbye.

The 500 albums that he found worthless? He didn’t even want them for free! The price of my finely tuned soul was not even worth pennies. Reluctantly, I hauled the rejected pile back to the car, piled them in, and drove them to a local Salvation Army. I couldn’t bring the vinyl orphans back home as crib space had knocked out music space.

With the small bills from the sale rustling in my pocket, I repaired to a local suds establishment where I promptly loaded some dollars in the juke box, took a seat in a booth, and ordered up a pint.
Here's what should have been playing.
"Tears of My Tracks", from Billy Bragg and the Blokes' "England, Half English" release.


Tears of My Tracks (a little wordplay coming off of Smokey Robinson and the Miracles’ hit tune, Tracks of My Tears )

I’m down but I’m not out, but Lord, I’m hurting
I’m down but I’m not out but I feel blue.

I sold all my vinyl yesterday
At a boot sale out on the highway
And now my room is full of fresh air.

I’m down but I’m not out, but Lord, I’m hurting
I’m down but I’m not out but I feel blue.

Somebody owns all my albums now
They probably don’t even wonder how
My name got written on the sleeves.

So I’m down but I’m not out, but Lord, I’m hurting
I’m down but I’m not out but I feel blue.

I opened the window, I let in the sun
My record collection has ended
For someone else it's just begun.

So I’m down but I’m not out, but Lord, I’m hurting
I’m down but I’m not out but I feel blue.


(This is #9 of Ten (or maybe a bit more) Heartbreakers as memed by Whisky Prajer)

Labels: Memes, Recording Reviews

It was a January Monday early evening somewhere in the snowdrift confines of a Montreal in the late 1970's. A major storm had blown through that weekend, so the snow was just barely gray when I was walking east on Sherbrooke St. toward McGill’s campus. A tuque of minimal fashion sense was pulled down hard over my ears and over one eye, allowing me to do a pirate one-eyed gaze for available footing. I side-stepped the mini snow machines that roved up and the down the main streets, like ironclad beetles bumping here against a supporting wall, there against the newspaper boxes. The wind was high as were the snowflakes flying parallel to the ground. Big fat juicy ones that stuck on my beard, backpack and any piece of clothing I was wearing made from denim or khaki. Looking around, I saw other equally white shadows shuffling along through the moguls on the sidewalks. What sounds I heard were limited to my own snowstep squeaks and the metal-on-concrete tick-tacking of the snow-clearing mini-bulldozers.

Stopping at one corner, I was head-dinged by an audio cassette. A snowball would have been expected as the temptation to hurl one would have halted at least one person's trek. Even a wave of churned snow lapping over from the street as the snow plows steamed by would not have been as big of a surprise. But a cassette, complete with a box? Not a usual snow incident suspect. After rubbing the pate and checking for blood, I bent over to see what had hit me. I brushed the snow off the little plastic container and then did a 360 spin in search of the thrower. I cocked my arm back in search of a target. The blowing snow provided a curtain of escape for the thrower...if there ever was one. I was walking past the Musical Arts building of McGill at the time. It could simply have been the strong wind blowing tunes in my general direction. (Or it could have been the fine throwing arm of the spirit of Kate McGarrigle who had attended McGill University to study engineering in the 1960's while her sister, Anna, studied painting at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts in Montreal.)

This was my introduction to the McGarrigle Sisters, the haunting singer-songwriters of Province Quebec. The cassette-upside-the-head was their 1976 first album simply titled Kate & Anna McGarrigle.

Heartbreak Song # 8 will not be from this album, but from their 1990 release,Heartbeats Accellerating.

I Eat Dinner (When the Hunger's Gone) is a study in minimalism. An economy of description for this sinking-into-the-abyss song.

Kate McGarrigle starts with:

I eat dinner at the kitchen table
(End of the day, usual time for the only family get-together when the day’s happenings can be shared and bantered about)
With my daughter who is thirteen (implying an imminent departure (by Martha Wainwright) when she’s fully of age and then I'll be completely...alone)
We eat leftovers and mashed potatoes
(never thought of mashed potatoes as The Lonely Vegetable, until this song)
No more candlelight
(Ouch!)
No more romance
(Twist the knife)
No more small talk
(Not even a crumb of human kindness)
When the hunger's gone
(Tone is set. Can't get lower, right?)

Never thought than I'd end up this way
I who loved the sparks
Never thought my hair'd be turning to grey
It used to be so dark
So dark

Instrumentation is minimal with Kate's spare voice a strong instrument by itself, going through you with the chill of Les Suetes. If you ever find yoursefl too happy for your own good, put this cd on and the earth will quickly come crashing down on you.

Note Bene:
Her son, Rufus Wainwright , born out of her joint venture with Loudon Wainwright III, did a little re-writing of the song when he performed it, specifically in the first section, making "I Eat Dinner" even sadder than his mother had intended.

"I eat dinner at the kitchen table
By the light that switches on
I eat leftovers with mashed potatoes
No more candlelight, no more romance, no more small talk
When the hunger's gone"

He doesn't even bother with the presence of another person. Misery of Oneness.


(This is #8 of Ten Heartbreakers as memed by Whisky Prajer)

Labels: Canada, Memes, Recording Reviews

A bit of a whirl of guitar and then the Hammond C3 kicks in with a long confessional note.
"It's bad timing and me.
We find a lot of things out this way.
And there's you,
A little black cloud in a dress.
The temptation
To take the precious things we have apart
To see how they work
Must be resisted for they never fit together again."

Things are not going to go well here. You're prepping for the fall. Analysis of the magic could only lead to Billy Bragg's crying out,
"If this is rain let it fall on me and drown me.
If these are tears, let them fall" in his "Must I Paint You a Picture" from "Worker's Playtime".

Billy Bragg's a taste of choice, a musical revelation and love or a simple disdain. Folks I've proselytized (or at least tried to) about Bragg are immediate in their response; they listen or they flee. The ones that don't care for him find his songs too hard or too preachy. "His voice is too heavily accented", they also note. Well, you can lead a horse to water...
I love his voice, his heavy unpolished British accent(listen to his pronunciation of "drown", you feel the water coming over top of you), with a romantic lilt to it that comes off with an exhausted humph of the shoulders as he struggles through his love songs, knowing that his heart will be crushed at the end. But, even if a person doesn't care for his voice, one has to give him kudos for his songwriting skills. In this song, one of the best pieces of a sad romance written in the last 20 years appears. With an exasperated plea, Bragg sings to his "little black cloud in a dress", that:
"Most important decisions in life
Are made between two people in bed.
I found that out at my expense
And wehn I see you,
You just turn around and walk away like we never met.
Oh, we used to be so brave!
I dreamt the world stopped turning as we climbed the hill
I dreamt impossible dreams that we were lovers still."

A true romantic in these days of coarseness and cheap emotional swill.

(This is #6 of Ten Heartbreakers as memed by Whisky Prajer)

Labels: Memes, Recording Reviews

...Grace", a song on Michelle Shocked's 1996 release, "Kind Hearted Woman", is a tearjerker imperial.

What is heartbreak? Wordreference.com has this pithy listing:
"intense sorrow caused by the loss of a loved one (especially by death)".
Let me add a subjective top-down list of heartbreaks. I'm leaving out Theological Heartbreak here, not completely comfortable going down that thorny path. This list is obviously completely subjective, hopefully reflecting the thoughts of a sane person. The last item on the list is the cause for the heaviest heartbreak.
1) Death of Self (Let's face it, when you're gone you won't be around to be brooding over yourself. And that's a good thing, is it not? Finally getting away form all of that self-involvement.)
2) A Death of a child you do not know but of whom you read/hear/see on some instrument of media.
3) A Death of a relative. (There's blood involved, so there's obligatory heartbreak)
4) Broken relationship, but no death. (A scar on the heart but (usually) not a constant stab like the next 4)
5) A Death of a close relative. (Usually a grandparent or cousin, a piece of your heart)
6) Your best friend's death (May be a relative as well)
7) Death of a Parent (Sorry Mom! I loves ya but the next choice trumps you)
8) Death of Spouse (or Partner) (Honey, I think it was somewehre in the vows along with the "obey"s and the "you betcha"s
9) (I cringe and shake just writing this down) Death of your Child


Ms. Shocked takes on # 9 with this song.

I wish you could've seen her face
How bright that sunflower shone!
With a child like Grace running all around this place
It should be said, "my, how you've grown..."

She was only three when she taught herself to read
"I do not like them, Sam I Am"

Listen to this song and I'll bet you next time you read "Green Eggs and Ham", your voice will catch at "I do not..."

She will grace our lives no more
She was only four
She died before she was five
Now it's a grave mistake
God in his wisdom makes
What does he care?
He fashioned us from clay

Lay me down in a bed of sunflowers
Overgrown and wild
I've survived my own child.

...and that is life's cruelest heartbreak, making it through the balance of your life without your child(ren).

Michelle Shocked has an expressive voice, one able to take you in with a story, crossing back and forth over emotional lines. You laugh, you cringe, you cry, and then you get angry. Angry through a veil of tears, that is.

And then you realize how good (and how cold-blooded) Ms. Shocked is.
Surely she must have gone through this herself, or perhaps had a close friend who had gone through this extremity of pain!
But,NO!
It was all invented, all a writing exercise. Her ex-husband, veteran music journalist Bart Bull, encouraged her to write not only from experience but from imagination. And so she has, quite convincingly. (Note to Self: These women from Texas are demonically cruel; treating your heart like a rugby ball. CP, you're not included in this note to self, of course!)
From an interview in thePhildelphia City Paper, she answered,
"Q:Where do you get the ideas for your sorrowful narratives?

MS: For the most part I pull them out of thin air or "out of my ass," as my (ex-)husband, Bart Bull, would say. He's a novelist and journalist and he taught me an important lesson of fiction writing: you can name your characters and give them a setting, but you've got to listen to them tell their own stories. It's often just a matter of creating a character that resonates with my own.

Q: What's your favorite song on Kind Hearted Woman?

MS: "A Child Like Grace." I like its play on the notion that in order to return to the kingdom of heaven, you must find a childlike grace. I took that concept and then told a story about a parent who is burying her child."

So, a surprise at the end. Though maybe it's not a surprise for a woman born Karen Michelle Johnston who took on the last name "Shocked" after her release from a mental insitution. She was committed there by her mother against her will. "After 30 days, the insurance money ran out,"she said,"so I was 'cured' and they released me." She did remember her shock therapies, however, and they linger on in her name.

"Linger" is an appropriate word to end this choice of song. A Child Like Grace" is a perpetual lingerer up there in the cobwebs.

(This is #5 of Ten Heartbreakers as memed by Whisky Prajer)

Labels: Memes, Recording Reviews

Charles Walker, on the same titled 2003 release, has it bad and, after a few repeated listenings, so will you.

A slow long soft blow on the sax. A guitar chops in with an explanation or two. The drummer's on a snail's pace, brushing once, twice, o.k., a third time. Then a light tap on the snare and Mr. Walker starts postulating.

"I'm not sure how this happened.
I didn't meeeean to caaaaaaall.
I must have been thinking of you.
Honey, that's all.
There's so much I should forget.
Here's a real good place to start,
'cuz I still know your number by heart.

Baby, yoooooooou left a memory that stays on my mind
One that keeps on getting stronger and stronger all the time

I have tried a new flame.
But I can't feel the spark.
Woooah, and I wish I didn't know your number by heart....

...and you can see him wandering down the street, shoulders slumping toward Babylon.

..Won't you call the operator and haaaaaave your number changed?
Maybe then I won't be trying to get in touch with you again.

Even though you've found another and I've seen you wear his ring, I would be alright, except for just one thing.
Your love had left a mark and
I wish I didn't know your number by heart.

Things were so simpler (carbon-dating commentary here) before ATT split up....


(This is #3 of Ten Heartbreakers as memed by Whisky Prajer)

Labels: Memes, Recording Reviews

This night was just the culmination of the skid that'd started a few weeks back. You'd been the envied pair for a month or so, eons in those days when going out with anyone over a week was tantamount to a swan's commitment. The comfort of the familiar had even started settling in. Perhaps, this was to be it.

Then, the gentle tearing of the fabric began. Going out dancing became painful. You stepped on her toes. She'd lead on occassion and you then refused to follow. Completing each other's sentences became an annoyance, a hemming in of each other's unpredictability.
The sighing came frequently; the touching of fingertips less so. The wisp of hair that always hung so innocently on the nape of her neck became a distraction. Your sly smile at her verbal observations drove her into silence.

So, this night came down upon the two of you. A favorite restaurant's meal simply resulted in mutual complaining. The bill was paid, the tip short-pocketed, and you repaired back to her apartment. Hands in pocket, both of you walked to the low drumming of her high heels on the pavement. Once inside, coats were left on, a glass of wine was firmly grasped, an ever so slow tear trickled down your cheek. On the record player, Joe Venuti was crying on his violin. (Theme from) Spartacus was playing. You put down your glasses, cupped each other closely, and moved about the small floor. Three minutes twenty-nine seconds passed. The song finished, you kissed, gave a slight nod, and left, gently clicking the door goodbye.

(This is #2 of Ten Heartbreakers as memed by Whisky Prajer)

Labels: Memes, Recording Reviews

John Lee Hooker on "John Lee Hooker Sings the Blues" launches a plea heavenward from the depths of his sorrow. Troubles are alluded to "because he's way down here all alone" just hoping for the "Lord to come down and see about" him.
His mother's gone. He's a "motherless child."
He's in the world alone.
His father's turned his back on him.
The troubles are here, "in the sorry valley on his knees."

The guitar is a simple strum with two notes just keying off each plea.
"Come down Lord and take care of Your child."
There's no anger, no tears, he's well beyond that. It's the bare despair only Help from above can relieve.

It's a stark non-electric recording going back to February, 1960. His guitar-playing at times is delicate, barely audible under his vocals. The backing band, Sam Jones on acoustic bass and Louis Hayes on drums (which sound like the most basic kit one could pound on) are steady and shaded, keeping the beat while gently pushing Hooker toward conclusion. A trance chant of a song. A primitively simple and eloquent album.

This is the first of the Songs of Heartbreak and Despair. I am not as brave as Mr WP ; I won't number the position of each song. Each carries a sorrow for a different occassion.

(This is #1 of Ten Heartbreakers as memed by Whisky Prajer)

Labels: Memes, Recording Reviews