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Tag: James Carr

Wednesday, May 8th

basement jukebox

James Carr (1942-2001) with Betty Harris (1939-), “I’m a Fool for You,” 1967 (Billboard R&B #42, Pop #97)

 

Saturday, March 23rd

two takes

James Carr (1942-2001), “Pouring Water on a Drowning Man” (D. Baker, D. McCormick)

Live, Italy (Porretta Terme), 1992

 

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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)

Monday, March 18th

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.

Saturday, March 16th

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.

Friday, 9/16/11

Never heard of this guy?

You’re not alone.

But for serious mental illness, he would have been a big star.

 James Carr, singer, June 13, 1942-January 7, 2001

Live, “You Got My Mind Messed Up”

Vodpod videos no longer available.

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Live, “Pouring Water on a Drowning Man”

Vodpod videos no longer available.

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“The Dark End of the Street” (D. Penn & C. Moman), Goldwax, 1967

Vodpod videos no longer available.

What may be my favorite moment in this track is one that’s easy to miss; a throwaway, it comes at 1:37—the muted, fleeting “huhh.” The whole welter of emotions Carr brings to this performance—anxious, defiant, rueful, resigned—can be heard in this single syllable.

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