This is a track I coproduced. It was the last thing recorded that night, an afterthought. The lights had just been turned down. The room was nearly dark.
Carey Bell’s Blues Harp Band,* “Woman In Trouble” (Living Chicago Blues, Vol. 1; Grammy Nominee), Alligator, 1978
Here’s something from the show I saw the other night.
Savages, “She Will,” live, Chicago (Metro), 9/16/13
In the hope-I-die-before-I-get-old department, it occurred to me, as I was driving home from this show, that I’ve been doing variations on this particular theme—going out into the dark night to hear live music—for at least, uh, let’s see, yeah, it must be at least forty-five years, since it was 1968, when I was fifteen, that my brother Don and I, after seeing the Velvet Underground at Chicago’s Kinetic Playground, were arrested and taken to the police station. The charge? Curfew.
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lagniappe
musical thoughts
The best music, you can seek some shelter in it momentarily, but it’s essentially there to provide you something to face the world with.
*I saw them at Metro, a club on Chicago’s north side, near Wrigley Field. The way drummer Fay Milton rode the beat, like a wave that kept surging, surging, surging, reminded me at times of Keith Moon. Is there any higher compliment?
Faces are motion, which is why all the photos of you are bad. Even the most natural-looking portrait is a sentence interrupted, one note of an aria, held. Though faces themselves hide a deeper motion. You seem to sit there and meet my eyes across the table, but you are so many other places, clinging here for a moment against all the currents that will soon sweep you onward. We are so moved by the faces caught in the windows of trains going the other way because they tell us how all faces really are.