alone
Boyd Rivers, “You Got To Take Sick And Die (One Of These Days),” live, Canton, Miss., 1978
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death, n. the final exhale.
Repeat them often enough and words lose their literal shapes, dissolving into pure feeling.
Heavenly Gospel Singers, “I Stepped in the Water One Day,” live, St. James Missionary Baptist Church, Canton, Mississippi, 1978
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lagniappe
reading table
. . . Heaven have mercy on us all—Presbyterians and Pagans alike—for we are all somehow dreadfully cracked about the head, and sadly needing mending.
—Herman Melville (1819-1891), Moby-Dick
Offstage she may be quiet, even shy. Onstage? That’s a different story: she’s filled with the Spirit.
Chicago Mass Choir (feat. Pam Crawford), “He’s Gonna Work It Out”
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lagniappe
radio
Today, his 112th birthday, it’s all Louis Armstrong all day at WKCR-FM (Columbia University).
fire
Boyd Rivers & Ruth May Rivers, “Fire in My Bones,” live, Canton, Miss., 1978
making a joyful noise
Evangelist Rosie Haynes (alto saxophone, vocals), “Because He Lives,” live, Milwaukee, 2005
#1
#2
*****
taking a break
I’m taking some time off—back in a while.
This guy played with everyone from The Mighty Clouds of Joy to Al Green to The Canton Spirituals to The Roots to (as we heard Friday) D’Angelo.
Chalmers “Spanky” Alford (1955-2008), guitar, “The Lord’s Prayer”
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lagniappe
reading table
We are never all of a piece . . .
—Marcel Proust (1871-1922), Sodom and Gomorrah (translated from French by John Sturrock)
No piano or organ. No guitar. No bass, no drums. So many things aren’t here. But nothing’s missing.
Heavenly Gospel Singers, “Sit Down Servant and Rest Awhile,” live, St. James Missionary Baptist Church, Canton, Mississippi, 1978
The moment this ends I want to hear it again.
Rev. E. M. Martin and Pearline Johns, “I’m Going Home On The Morning Train,” Clarksdale, Miss. (Nelson Funeral Home), 1942
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lagniappe
reading table
Mortality is fatal
Gentility is fine
Rascality, heroic
Insolvency, sublime—Emily Dickinson (1830-1886), #2 (excerpt), 1852
Stevie testifies.
Stevie Wonder, “I Won’t Complain,” Luther Vandross’s funeral, New York (The Riverside Church), 2005
(Originally posted 10/11/09.)
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lagniappe
reading table
I hear new news every day, and those ordinary rumours of war, plagues, fires, inundations, thefts, murders, massacres, meteors, comets, spectrums, prodigies, apparitions, of towns taken, cities besieged in France, Germany, Turkey, Persia, Poland, &c., daily musters and preparations, and such like, which these tempestuous times afford, battles fought, so many men slain, monomachies, shipwrecks, piracies and sea-fights; peace, leagues, stratagems, and fresh alarms. A vast confusion of vows, wishes, actions, edicts, petitions, lawsuits, pleas, laws, proclamations, complaints, grievances are daily brought to our ears.
—Robert Burton, The Anatomy of Melancholy (1621)
father and son
Brian Blade (drums) & The Fellowship Band, with Brady L. Blade Sr. (vocals), “Amazing Grace,” live, Savannah, Ga. (2012)
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lagniappe
reading table
Some things endure. When my sons, Alex and Luke, were in grade school, I started a two-person “reading group” with each of them. We would read novels together, maybe one a month, alternating choices, and go out and talk about them over a meal. Alex is now twenty-five. This morning we’re going out for breakfast, where we’ll be talking about a short story by Richard Yates, “Oh, Joseph, I’m So Tired.” Of stories there is no end.
When Franklin D. Roosevelt was President-elect there must have been sculptors all over America who wanted a chance to model his head from life, but my mother had connections.
—Richard Yates (1926-1992), “Oh, Joseph, I’m So Tired” (first sentence)
music clip of the day 