There are all kinds of love songs.
Sonny Boy Williamson II (AKA Aleck [or Alex] “Rice” Miller), “Your Funeral and My Trial,” live, Europe, 1960s
More? Here.
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lagniappe
reading table
Moonlight in the kitchen is a sign of God.
—Anne Carson, “God’s Work” (excerpt)
two takes
“I’m Your Puppet” (D. Penn & S. Oldham)
James & Bobby Purify, TV show, 1966
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Dan Penn (guitar, vocals) & Spooner Oldham (keyboards), TV show, 1999
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This is one of the sadder, and stranger, love songs I know. “I’ll do funny things if you want me to”: someone who’ll “do funny things” on command but isn’t, as far as we can tell, otherwise funny is someone who’s desperate to please. And that, to me, is what this song’s about more than anything else—desperation. This is a guy who’ll “do anything.” He’s “hanging on a string.”
only rock ’n roll
Terry Malts (Phil Benson, vocals, bass; Corey Cunningham, guitar; Nathan Sweatt, drums), “Nauseous,” “Something About You,” 2012
Vodpod videos no longer available.
not for the faint of heart
Weasel Walter (drums), Peter Evans (trumpet), Mary Halvorson (guitar), live, Toronto (Placebo Space), 2011
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lagniappe
reading table
We call it a grain of sand,
but it calls itself neither grain nor sand.
It does just fine without a name,
whether general, particular,
permanent, passing,
incorrect, or apt.Our glance, our touch mean nothing to it.
It doesn’t feel itself seen and touched.
And that it fell on the windowsill
is only our experience, not its.
For it, it is no different from falling on anything else
with no assurance that it has finished falling
or that it is falling still.The window has a wonderful view of a lake,
but the view doesn’t view itself.
It exists in this world
colorless, shapeless,
soundless, odorless, and painless.The lake’s floor exists floorlessly,
and its shore exists shorelessly.
Its water feels itself neither wet nor dry
and its waves to themselves are neither singular nor plural.
They splash deaf to their own noise
on pebbles neither large nor small.And all this beneath a sky by nature skyless
in which the sun sets without setting at all
and hides without hiding behind an unminding cloud.
The wind ruffles it, its only reason being
that it blows.A second passes.
A second second.
A third.
But they’re three seconds only for us.Time has passed like a courier with urgent news.
But that’s just our simile.
The character is invented, his haste is make-believe,
his news inhuman.—Wislawa Szymborska (1923-2012), “View with a Grain of Sand” (translated from Polish by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh)
Some tracks, the first time you hear them (as I did this a couple weeks ago), you wonder how you ever got along without them.
Joe McPhee (tenor saxophone) with Otis Greene (alto saxophone), Mike Kull (electric piano), Herbie Lehman (organ), Dave Jones (guitar), Tyrone Crabb (bass), Bruce Thompson & Ernest Bostic (percussion), “Shakey Jake” (Nation Time, 1970; reissued 2009)
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lagniappe
random thoughts
Remember when there was a whole season—not just a storm or two—called “winter”?
lighter than air, funkier than dirt
Otha Turner (1907-2003) and the Rising Star Fife and Drum Band (with guest Luther Dickinson, guitar), “My Babe,” live, Memphis, 1990s
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lagniappe
art beat: more from Wednesday’s stop at the Art Institute of Chicago
Vincent van Gogh, The Poet’s Garden (1888)
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musical thoughts
Last night, at the University of Chicago’s Mandel Hall, I heard what may be the finest encore I’ve ever heard. After devoting the second half of his concert to Beethoven’s mammoth Diabelli Variations, pianist Peter Serkin, following several trips offstage to rapturous applause, sat down and played, slowly, meditatively, the Aria from Bach’s Goldberg Variations. As the last note was fading, if someone had turned to me and said, with the kind of confidence one often encounters in Hyde Park, that the greatest achievements in the history of humanity can be heard at the piano, I couldn’t have done anything other than agree.
When the groove’s this strong, I don’t ever want it to end.
Give me another take.
And another.
Another.
Black Dub (Brian Blade, drums; Trixie Whitley, drums, vocals; Daniel Lanois, guitar, vocals; Jim Wilson, bass, vocals), “Last Time”
1: Santa Monica, 2/16/11
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2: Philadelphia, 11/18/10
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3: Vancouver, 2/2/11
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4: Hamburg, 7/21/11
on & on & . . .
Lyn Horton, Goldmine Brook: The Day After Christmas (2011)
Glenn Branca, Lesson No. 1 for Electric Guitar (1980, reissued 2004)
Vodpod videos no longer available.
The 1960s—a decade of relentless experimentation, bold innovation, of searching, always, for something new, something true.
Freddie and the Dreamers, “Little Bitty Pretty One,” “A Little You”
Live, London, 1965
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lagniappe
reading table
Last night I had a dream. I was in France. Paris was again falling to the Germans, but it had become such a habit that one had to look closely to see that anyone really cared. I arrived in Paris (from the front, I think, but there wasn’t much of one) went to a party, where I was surrounded by acquaintances. They became distant and shadowy when I approached them. Suddenly I saw you and gave you a tremendous hug. You moved to another table. I said: ‘I know where there are a couple of good French restaurants.’ You said: ‘They’re all French here.’
—Robert Lowell, Letter to Elizabeth Bishop, 6/14/1953,
in The Letters of Robert Lowell (Saskia Hamilton ed., 2005)
music clip of the day 