THE LOST PONY
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MORE GOOD PLACES
library of congress
sun & moon
These poems, people,
lost ponies with
Dragging saddles --
and rocky sure-foot trails.
Good rock 'n' roll... I don't know. I guess it's just something that makes you feel alive. It's just like, it's something that's human, and I think that most music today isn't. And it's like anything that I would want to listen to is made by human beings instead of computers and machines. To me, good rock 'n' roll also encompasses other things, like Hank Williams and Charlie Mingus and a lot of things that aren't strictly defined as rock ‘n' roll. Rock 'n' roll is like an attitude, it's not a musical form of a strict sort. It's a way of doing things, of approaching things. Like anything can be rock 'n' roll.
from A Final Chat with Lester Bangs by Jim DeRogatis
souvenirs from every vacation
Also, Patterson Hood's new site with a smokin' new picture of him and a new song, "Pollyanna."
rocked dynamite hooks like a motherfucker
the pretty girl who played the cello, what was her name?
Bob Dylan's Inner Black Woman
Will you rise and meet your savior in the air?
Also, JB sent me to this New York Times article on the foremost scholar of country music songs about the atom bomb. The only one I knew of is the Louvin Brothers' "Atomic Power" that Uncle Tupelo covers. And Styledaddy made me a collection of boogie woogie that has the song "Atomic Boogie" by Pete Johnson on it.
And then via JB via Metafilter -- holy crap, it's Atomic Radio. I love the world and the satellites.
It Does Make Me Laugh
It's the little things get me tickled. One time, for an entire year, my mom and me would say "wooo, do we dare?" -- an Alex P. Keaton line that cracked us up. Or how my brother Monty and me would always laugh so hard at my mom singing purty little love song instead of heard it in a love song when The Marshall Tucker Band came on the radio.
Back Home, Bunch of Stuff
From JB this morning, Wil Wheaton discovers Wilco and says cool stuff and Jeff Tweedy's brother-in-law replies (scroll down to comments section, Danny Miller). Which then led me to Danny Miller's blog, which is excellent.
Also, check out Wil Wheaton in the NY Times.
And also from JB, also re: Wilco -- a Wilco treasure chest.
And still more also -- all of this got me here, hotdog.
I've been up north, in Ithaca, upstate New York, where it was 50 some degrees one day -- and my buddy Sarah and her baby girl Ilah and me walked to the old Ithaca Gun factory (that's haunted, they say) and this enormous gorge that made my knees weak from looking over the bridge -- and snowing and got down to eighteen below the next. How did that happen? I was stunned. I heard the next door neighbor shoveling before I got up and thought he was just shoveling leftover snow. Nope. Anyhow, we hung out a lot at this coffee shop that played a lot of Wilco and Neil Young, and The Clash and Dolly Parton. Good place, that one. Plus I saw Carl Sagan's house, looks like a mausoleum and sits on the side of a cliff, and some of the Sagan Planet Walk.
Before I left, I came across this article about this man named Mingering Mike who, in the late 60s and early 70s, made recordings complete with his own album covers out of his house. Now there's a show at SECCA in Winston-Salem. This is what annoys the hell outta me about SECCA -- it only focuses on the album art, as part of their fascination with outsider art, and not the music. There's just something that rubs me the wrong way about all these art critics and curators rubbin' their dadblamed goatees and eating cheese and drinking wine over Mingering Mike's hard work. The article also links to this, the "official online home of all things mingering" -- maybe I'm wrong but the whole thing stinks of collectors who got hold of this -- read the article in Go Triad, that'll explain it.
The Coalition of Immokalee Workers and their victory over Taco Bell.
Finally, things are happening over at the Charlotte Hawkins Brown memorial in Sedalia. The good ole Center for Documentary Studies has a traveling exhibition at the site. Some folks may think memorials are hokey, but I think some are necessary. Ain't hokey at all. So the stuff doesn't get lost.
Bambi said "I wanna leave it again!"
From "Waiting for the Ladies" by Larry Brown:
"When I got to where he lived, the truck was behind the house and there wasn't a light on. I coasted by twice with the headlights off. Then I killed it by the side of the road and listened for a while. It was quiet. Some light wires were humming. That was it... I got out with the shotgun and a beer and closed the door. The law wasn't there, and I was the law. Vigilante Justice. Patrick Swayze and somebody else. Dirty Dancing. But he never flashed his trash.
The yard was mud, the house almost dark. I could just see that one little light inside that was Johnny Carson saying goodnight. I knew he might have a gun, and might be scared enough to use it. In my state I though I could holler self-defense in his front yard.
I hope I didn't ruin their lives.
The door was open, and the knob turned under my hand. The barrel of the gun slanted down from under my arm, and I tracked their mud on their floor. He didn't have his cap on, and his hair wasn't like what I'd imagined. It was gray, but neatly combed, and his mother was sobbing silently on the couch and feeding a pillow into her mouth.
He said one thing, quietly: 'Are you fixing to kill us?'
Their eyes got me.
I sat down, asking first if I could. That's when I started telling both of them what my life then was like."
When I read this, I like to think he changed his mind about shooting them on account of them watching Johnny Carson, cause everybody did, like watching Johnny Carson made them just regular folks to him, like himself.
"The Bowery is more than just a physical place. For centuries, it has also been an imaginary zone onto which the world projected its most lurid fantasies and anxieties. This was capitalism's wasteland, a refuge for failures and fuckups. And the Bowery bum was a living, breathing cautionary tale for the burgeoning American middle class: Look what happens when you stumble in the rat race."
Some of the folks are talking about historic preservation but see that eventually does the same mess -- relegates everything to some godawful museum status and the whole point is lost. Trolley tours of flophouses and old theaters hosting minstrel shows, how quaint. Historic preservation just moves everything to the past when the whole idea is that we're supposed to keep something alive, and keep affordable housing, and businesses that start-up without a whole hell of a lot of capital. I hate the historic preservation people just as much as the rampant capitalists -- at least the rampant capitalists are honest about their intentions. Like in this neighborhood, they want the look of yore without all the nasty real history of a constantly changing place, that for the most part was home to lower-to-middle class working folks and college students. All that they want gone cause poor folks keep shit in their yards and sofas on their porches and all that really distracts from that authentic-as-hell Victorian detailing in their housepaint job.
Also, this by Robert Christgau about The Bowery's music history.
Iron Man Comics
And, again, if you ain't been here yet, I urge ye.
Sit Up to the Table
"Where are you Holden?... Stop kidding around. Stop letting people think you’re Missing. Stop wearing my robe to the beach. Stop taking the shots on my side of the court. Stop whistling. Sit up to the table…"
from This Sandwich Has No Mayonnaise by J. D. Salinger, Esquire, October 1945.
Oz and The Jayhawks Teaser
In an heroic "Farmer Jason" lunge-move to keep a heavy pole from falling on the pony in the barn, Jason Ringenberg severely injured his back yesterday and is, at the moment, laid up in a lot of pain at his family farm outside of Nashville.
From Styledaddy -- Tom Waits interview on American Routes.
Speaking of interviews, check out the excellent Seth Green interview. He talks about his new stop-motion animation show Robot Chicken, playing the sorta young Woody Allen in Radio Days, a little bit about Buffy, and a lot about being weird. Even if you don't give a hoot about Seth-Green-as-Oz, this is one of the best interviews I've heard in a long time. (Besides the Lyn Cheney interview but that was for the sheer discomfort of the thing.)
New Chatham County Line album -- and now they're on Yep Roc, with Chris Stamey producing. I like what they say here about Greg Readling being like Garth Hudson.
Last night, as I was falling asleep listening to the CBC, Barbara Budd announced The Jayhawks are breaking up. Evidently, Gary Louris said something about it at a Madison, Wisconsin show. And I was sad, they played all of "Blue" from Tomorrow the Green Grass. (As It Happens must be Jayhawks fans.) But now this.
Preshrunk? Fire fi de man
Have you read that Nick Hornby book Songbook? It's a collection of short essays about songs, not whole albums. Excellent fun. This from Tita.
My niece did her school project on this subject. "Here in New York City, gays in clubs win' up to wildly popular reggae dancehall lyrics like 'Fire fi de man dem weh go ride man behind,' much as older gays pray in churches that condemn homosexuality."
I Heart DBT
Came across this article last fall in Asheville's Mountain Xpress. It appeared right before the Drive-By Truckers played their town. It was the next night DBT played Winston-Salem but I got the dates mixed up and ended up dragging us across a couple counties for a show that had already happened. It was only when we were standing in line that I could hear the 80's cover band inside and then it dawned on me I'd got the wrong night.
If you've never been to the DBT website, you oughta check it out. It's full of treats and stories and goodies. Plus there's links to Patterson Hood's website and his dad, David Hood's website. David Hood was the bass player for the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section and appeared on all kinds of records -- Aretha, Percy Sledge, The Staple Singers.
Low-Powered FM/Dead Birds
A couple years ago I got all freaked out about the West Nile Virus, reading in Wildlife in North Carolina all the updates about dead birds being found around Jordan Lake. They had this hotline and they were urging folks to report any dead birds they found so somebody could come out and test them. I was over at some of Jeff's art buddies' house, helping them move, and I found a dead crow and got all freaked out and said we oughta call the Wildlife folks and report it. They were sorta hesistant. But I'd never seen a dead crow -- I've seen other dead birds, but not a crow, it's big, man. Anyhow, the last few hours, blitz of news: Here's some. And the AP article that's popping up everywhere. And here and the health department -- I don't mean this like I'm fascinated by the drama of epidemics -- I mean, West Nile and birds, they fascinate me, yep.
And here's their interview with Terry Zwigoff, director of Crumb, Ghost World and Louie Bluey.
And from The Old Time Herald, I love this, a fifteen-year argument over the virtues of square dancing vs. contra dancing (and a little north vs. south). Here's the original article that appeared in The Old Time Herald in 1989. And here was the letter this fella Mr. Reed wrote in response. And then, fifteen years later, the rebuttal to the response.
And this site'll let you listen to old 78 recordings, you can listen by themes such as "Goofy" or "Covered by Bob Dylan".
Live from the Triad
And River Run, hotdog.
Still Don't Care for That Courtney Love
I dig these polaroids of Modest Mouse. They ain't pretty boys atall. Hotdog. [click on POLAROIDS at bottom of screen]
This posted on the message boards from Serge of Marah, who postponed their show this Saturday at The Garage. Dadblamed Raleigh gets everything.
There Ain't No Eye
The Center for Documentary Studies has got a ton of their audio and photo docs here.
And cause I'm curious.
The Science of Eternal Sunshine