basement jukebox
Solomon Burke (1940-2010), “Cry to Me” (Bert Russell AKA Bert Berns), 1962
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lagniappe
reading table
Looking back now, in the late autumn of life—or is it early winter?—I am convinced that art and the erotic are as closely entwined as a pair of lovers lying in each other’s arms.
—John Banville (1945-), Time Pieces: A Dublin Memoir
sounds of Chicago
Otis Clay (1942-2016), “Trying to Live My Life Without You” (L. Williams)
Live, Toronto, 2014
***
Recording, 1972
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lagniappe
random sights
yesterday, Forest Park, Ill.
two takes
James Carr (1942-2001), “Pouring Water on a Drowning Man” (D. Baker, D. McCormick)
Live, Italy (Porretta Terme), 1992
***
Recording, 1966
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lagniappe
reading table
lingering a while
above the blossoms,
the moon in the night sky—Matsuo Basho, 1644-1694 (translated from Japanese by Makoto Ueda)
James Carr (1942-2001), “The Dark End of the Street” (D. Penn, C. Moman), 1967
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lagniappe
reading table
Counting the Mad
by Donald Justice (1925-2004)
This one was put in a jacket,
This one was sent home,
This one was given bread and meat
But would eat none,
And this one cried No No No No
All day long.
This one looked at the window
As though it were a wall,
This one saw things that were not there,
This one things that were,
And this one cried No No No No
All day long.
This one thought himself a bird,
This one a dog,
And this one thought himself a man,
An ordinary man,
And cried and cried No No No No
All day long.
basement jukebox
James Carr (1942-2001), “To Love Somebody” (B. Gibb, R. Gibb), 1969
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lagniappe
reading table
Variations on a Text by Vallejo
by Donald Justice (1925-2004)
Me moriré en Paris con aguacero …
I will die in Miami in the sun,
On a day when the sun is very bright,
A day like the days I remember, a day like other days,
A day that nobody knows or remembers yet,
And the sun will be bright then on the dark glasses of strangers
And in the eyes of a few friends from my childhood
And of the surviving cousins by the graveside,
While the diggers, standing apart, in the still shade of the palms,
Rest on their shovels, and smoke,
Speaking in Spanish softly, out of respect.
I think it will be on a Sunday like today,
Except that the sun will be out, the rain will have stopped,
And the wind that today made all the little shrubs kneel down;
And I think it will be a Sunday because today,
When I took out this paper and began to write,
Never before had anything looked so blank,
My life, these words, the paper, the gray Sunday;
And my dog, quivering under a table because of the storm,
Looked up at me, not understanding,
And my son read on without speaking, and my wife slept.
Donald Justice is dead. One Sunday the sun came out,
It shone on the bay, it shone on the white buildings,
The cars moved down the street slowly as always, so many,
Some with their headlights on in spite of the sun,
And after awhile the diggers with their shovels
Walked back to the graveside through the sunlight,
And one of them put his blade into the earth
To lift a few clods of dirt, the black marl of Miami,
And scattered the dirt, and spat,
Turning away abruptly, out of respect.
basement jukebox
Jackie (AKA Jacqui) Verdell (1937-1991), “Why Not Give Me a Chance” (J. Verdell), 1962
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musical thoughts
I also considered Jackie Verdell of the Davis Sisters one of the best and most underrated female soul singers of all time.
—Aretha Franklin (1942-2018), Aretha: From These Roots, 1999
This is Jimmy’s brother.
Syl Johnson, “Take Me to the River” (A. Green, M. Hodges), 1974
*****
Another take.
Live (with Howard Grimes [drums], Leroy Hodges [bass], et al.), Memphis
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lagniappe
random sights
other day, Oak Park, Ill.
basement jukebox
“The Only Way Is Up” (G. Jackson, J. Henderson)
Otis Clay (1942-2016), 1980
A few years after Otis Clay recorded this song for his small Chicago label, another version was released in England, where it topped the charts for several weeks.
Yazz (1960-), 1988
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lagniappe
reading table
It is Spring in the mountains.
I come alone seeking you.
The sound of chopping wood echoes
Between the silent peaks.
The streams are still icy.
There is snow on the trail.
At sunset I reach your grove
In the stony mountain pass.
You want nothing, although at night
You can see the aura of gold
And silver ore all around you.
You have learned to be gentle
As the mountain deer you have tamed.
The way back forgotten, hidden
Away, I become like you,
An empty boat, floating, adrift.—Tu Fu (aka Du Fu, 712-729), “Written on the Wall of Chang’s Hermitage” (translated from Chinese by Kenneth Rexroth)
basement jukebox
Little Ann (aka Ann Bridgeforth [1945-2003]), “Deep Shadows, rec. 1967
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lagniappe
random sights
yesterday, Elmhurst, Ill. (Prairie Path)
basement jukebox
Sam Fletcher, “I’d Think It Over,” 1964
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lagniappe
random sights
July 26, 2018, Monhegan Island, Maine
***
reading table
Sea foam. The tide seems to burst, like a muffled, distant explosion of which we should be seeing only the smoke.
—The Journal of Jules Renard (translated from French by Louise Bogan and Elizabeth Roget), August, 1887
