The Forecast Don't Look Good

Recently, the creative juices have begun to flow again. This is due, in large part, to Pat stepping forward and confiding in me that he had written some ideas for original music and is very interested in collaborating. Well, I've never needed an excuse to work on original material, and most of the time I simply complete the entire process on my own before I show it to anyone (if I show anyone). But I have a lot of respect for Pat, and I love playing music with him. We have very similar tastes in music and life, and thus he has afforded me a lot of good insight in the past.

To say I'm looking forward to writing with Pat, is an understatement. So I started going through some of my old notebooks (what can I say, I like to write by hand), to see what kinds of lyrics I had "lying around." There was way too much, and it was an intimidating idea to even scrape the surface. But low and behold, I found a separate piece of looseleaf paper sticking out of a notebook, and it turned out to be one of the very first songs I ever wrote, many years ago. Now I know it's nothing groundbreaking, but it's simple and concise with straightforward message using the weather as a metaphor for a stormy relationship. And hey, we've all go to start somewhere, right?

The Forecast Don't Look Good

Cold hard rain spits in my face,
Weather's ranting and on my case.
Clouds can smile, sun looks so grim,
Sky's a forecast of the shape I'm in.

See I was feeling like you were blind,
Missed my passes, ignored my lines.
Couldn't get your heart, or your mind,
Found out the hard way that love's unkind.

And it's well understood,
That the forecast don't look good.

Thinkin' maybe a change of pace,
Sick of running this tired race.
Done with chasing and being chased,
Always winding up in the same place.

Moral compass guides my road,
North, East, South, West, just point and go.
Though you never got, what you were owed,
Maybe I can help you lessen the load.

And I'd take it if I could,
But the forecast don't look good.

Ain't no more fighting, no more abuse.
Ain't no more using and being used.
And though I'm sorry, I'm misconstrued,
Won't ruin an apology with an excuse.

Guess it ain’t, my concern, 

Guess I’ll wait, for my next turn.

Gotta let you live, gotta let you learn,

Gotta let you give, and get burned.

And it’s well understood,

That the forecast don’t look good.

SOD: The Police "Canary In A Coalmine"

Technically, the canary was brought into the coal mine as a form of animal sentinel. An animal sentinel is essentially used because often times animals can detect changes to the environment more quickly than humans. In this particular and most classic of examples, coal miners would bring canaries into mines as an early warning sign for toxic gases like carbon monoxide. The birds would become sick before the miners because they were more sensitive to the change. When the miners saw this, they would then have a chance to escape the mine, or at least use some form of breathing aid (like a respirator).

In that vein, the short and sweet Police song starts off with the verse:

First to fall over when the atmosphere is less than perfect
Your sensibilities are shaken by the slightest defect
You live your life like a canary in a coal mine
you get so dizzy even walking in a straight line.

Pretty much in accordance with the literal definition of a canary in a coal mine, Sting has chosen to use the saying to represent an actual person who is unjustly fearful of the world. As you listen to the song, you realize that it's a statement about how this kind of thinking is delusional. You'll live your life like a canary in a coal mine, and hey, that sucks.

Both the message and the music are succinct, and quick (in tempo and point). It's a fun song on an album that has some of the most memorable Police cuts on it. It came out in 1980, and had tracks like the opener, "Don't Stand So Close to Me," followed by "Driven To Tears", and also included "De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da." I always loved that last song, but god, the title pisses me off! This New Wave/Punk album actually topped the UK album charts, and rose to 5th on the Billboard Pop Albums chart. Not too shabby for three limey brits, eh?

Sting (aka Gordon Sumner) - Bass Guitar, Vocals, Synthesizers
Andy Summers - Guitar, guitar synths
Stewart Copeland - Drums, synthesizers, guitar

The Police "Canary in a coal mine"

Snapshot

We take a lot of pictures. As a generation. The amount of documentation of our lives is one of the biggest differences between us and our parents. My folks have a couple of photo albums that basically sum up the entirety of their first 30 years on this planet. I have tens of thousands of pictures for that same time period.

For better or worse, it's a fact that we need to come to terms with. Our faces will be smattered across other people's computer screens and the internet, whether we want it there or not. I don't have facebook, but I know my face is on it. I've done my best to avoid that stuff, not that it takes much effort on my part. It's not something that interests me, so it doesn't play any role in my life. That goes for almost all forms of social media (and yes, I know I say this ironically as I am blogging about it).

So the other day I was going through the pictures on my computer, because to be honest I dont even know what I've got. I came across this picture. This is the kind of picture that makes the hundreds of crappy ones before it, worth it. It's the kind of picture that sums up the entirety of the weekend trip we took down to the Capital of the U-S- of A. This one picture, tells it like it was. We all had a great weekend bullshitting in the streets, goofing off, and laughing a lot. At one point, I found a closed off block right by one of the government buildings, and I got everyone to join me in the middle of the road. "Why Not?" was kind of the motto when it came to that day, so we just said "yes" to everything. And though I'm a little concerned about the amount of pictures we take, I've got to say, I'm damn glad we captured this moment.

SOD: Buffalo Springfield "Mr. Soul"

At a time when the British Rock n' Roll invasion swept the nation, Buffalo Springfield was one of the few North American bands to get their own foothold on the Rock charts. Their sound was an amalgamation of folk, rock, and country, but didn't quite sound like any of them when it all came together. Famously known for the Stephen Stills penned song "For What It's Worth" (which would become a national protest-song), Buffalo Springfield actually released three albums from '66 to '68. Most of it doesn't get any airplay at all though, which is surprising to me because I find much of their material to be easily digestible.

Buffalo Springfield had a short run, and trouble finding a permanent bass player. In the time that they did have, their lineup was generally based around the songwriting of Stephen Stills (guitar, keyboards vocals) and Neil Young (guitar, harmonica, piano, vocals). They were rounded out by Richie Furay (guitar, vocals) and Dewey Martin (drums, vocals). At one performance on "Hollywood Palace" they had to have a roadie sit in somewhat off-stage, and pretend to play bass. It's not as if they weren't all lip-syncing for television anyway, but it just goes to show how much difficulty they had finding a steady fill-in at bass.

"Mr. Soul" is off their second album from 1967, Buffalo Springfield Again. Though I've never met anyone that's raved about the album as a whole, I rather like it. It has a style all it's own. A lot of that may have to do with the fact that Neil Young was often M.I.A., and the original bass player (Bruce Palmer), was locked up on drug charges. Thus there were a lot of L.A. based session players who contributed. Most notable would probably be Jack Nitzsche, a name worth knowing in music. Stephen Stills contributed four tracks to the album, and his voice is part of what makes their sound so appealing to me. To have the option and ability to lead songs with either Stills or Young on vocals gave the band some good depth at that position.

When Neil Young was around, he did some great work with this group. He recorded the final track on the album all by himself (with session players), and it happens to be one of my favorites. "Broken Arrow" is a very experimental track. There's a lot of different sounds and noises used, and it's structure is musically interrupted in form, for effects like crowd noise and military snare drum rolls. In the end though, if you take the three verses that exist and judge the song off that alone, you truly get an emotional self-testimonial from Neil Young. But don't take my word for it. See for yourself.

Neil Young / Buffalo Springfield Mr. Soul

SOD: Lake Street Dive "I Want You Back"

Lets forget for a moment, the sheer power and beauty of Rachael Price's voice. Talent aside, this is why music is the most beautiful thing in the world. That 4 people can get together in a driveway, anywhere, and just make a song that sounds as good as this. It's an amazing thing, and I'm a big fan of the impromptu jam session.

Now lets not forget for more than a moment, how talented these musicians are. Rachael Price has one of the best voices I've heard in a while. She can channel a rich, seductive tone, or call to arms a  powerful and charged vocal assault. There's also an old school sound to her phrasing and delivery, she certainly took a page out of Etta James and Billie Holiday's books, that's for sure. And frankly that's to be expected, after all she did study Jazz at the New England Conservatory in Massachusetts.

Now I'm not going to pretend I know who these guys are, I just happened to stumble upon them. I've already listened to their six song album "Fun Machine" (5 of which are covers), and you know what...it's kind of fun. In addition to this great cover, there's a nice version of the Hall and Oates classic "Rich Girl," and a really groovy version of "This Magic Moment." They also cover George Michael's little amuse bouche, "Faith", but I'm not as sold on that version. Give it a listen, see what you think.

Lake Street Dive Plays "I Want You Back" On a Boston Sidewalk

SOD: Stevie Wonder "Lately"

This is not Signed Sealed Delivered or Sir Duke style Stevie. There's no extravagance or pomp and circumstance with this song. There's no horn section either. This is Stevie Wonder stripped down to the man and his piano. And a little bass guitar to keep it all warm. I used to think Bruce Springsteen was the last great American Rock and Roll Songwriter to strut on the scene, but Stevie Winwood has as much right to that claim as The Boss. This guy can write a song with depth and meaning, and the perfect melody to tug at those emotions you can't help but let creep in.

And, Stevie's got ten times the voice Bruce does. That doesn't mean I don't love Bruce's voice (which I absolutely do), but the power and clarity that Stevie brings to the table is unparalleled. Just listen to the the end of this song. The emotional build throughout is slowly revving you up for something big and heartbreaking.

This isn't one of Stevie Wonders more popular songs either. It doesn't have the beat and danceability that many of the others do, but it has the soul force of something much greater. Music needs both those good time, foot-stomping party songs, and those slower, more reflective emotional ones. Even the best albums I know, include both.

Matt sent me a note this afternoon, and it said:

SOD request by me..."Lately" by Stevie Wonder. Whenever you get around to it. Listen, the chord changes, the melody, and especially Stevie singing the fuck out of it. Lyrics tell such a vivid story.

I got around to it. Anytime Matt suggests a song, I'll listen to it right away if I can. Do you know why? Because it's rare to find people who actually know what the fuck they're talking about these days, in any field. There's a lot of bullshit out there, the internet has made sure of that. Shit, I've probably spewed my fair share of it. Check that, I definitely have. But Matt, though I don't always agree with him, is not full of shit. He tells it like he feels it, and he can always back up his reasons. He's not regurgitating something he read or heard, he's living it and coming up with his own take. That's what I want to do. That's what I'm trying to do. He just has more knowledge than I do. Sometimes I wonder why he isn't the one writing the blog.

So I listened to this song, and like he said, the lyrics do tell a painful story. The lyric that stuck out with me after merely hearing it once was:

Far more frequently you're wearing perfume,
With you say, "No special place to go"
But when I ask will you be coming back soon,
You don't know, never know.

It's painfully plain, and so obvious. This woman is breaking this man's heart. He knows it, he feels it, smells it, and see's it. He's close to accepting it, somewhere in there he knows it's over he just hasn't said it aloud to himself. I'd venture to say most people have felt this before. If not most, than many. Lord knows I have. You see, in most every relationship, someone loves the other more. It's always harder to see in the beginning, but as time passes it is usually made clear. You don't want to be that person, but there's no way to fight it. And you can sense when your partner has outgrown you, or lost interest. You certainly don't want to admit it, and you fight to hold on, but all the while you always have a sense that it's ending. Confronting it, is confronting failure. It's accepting that the love you give is not returned, and that's not easy.

Granted, there are exceptions to the rule, but this fact alone is responsible for a lot of failed relationships. It's probably for the best in the end. Stevie's ability to capture this feeling so fully is remarkable. I can relate to the sap in this story, I know what he's feeling but he's got to figure it out on his own. It's a sad song, but it's a true song, and that makes it beautiful. It's simple, it's relatable, and as Matt said, "the chord changes." They'll teach you a thing or two on where a song can go, not necessarily where you expected it to.

Stevie Wonder - Lately

Garvey in September

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2S8ZrQG0y6g

That's Garvey's "G-chat Status." Looks like he's getting his dancing in on the back end of the month. That sounds dirty.

I haven't spoken to Garvey about this yet. I'm positively curious why he's chosen this video to represent him as an individual. He'll probably give me an answer like, "that's a great song man." And while that may be true, why post it? Something deep within Garvey whispered to him, and do you know what it said? Share. This feeling that the world wouldn't spin straight would not leave him until he shared his joy.

Garvey thought, why not let everyone bask in the glory of the Earth, Wind, and Fire. These are not mere elements of the gods, they are available to all (in song form, of course). Clearly, it had gotten him through his hardships, why couldn't it help us get through ours? What if dancing in September was the ultimate goal in life? Not the song, the action. What if dancing in the month of September brought the rains in May? You never know. This could be some seriously cosmic shit we're dealing with here. Garvey could be perpetrating an event, nay a tradition, that's been happening for thousands of years. A tradition that has guaranteed the survival of our species.

Ok, I've gone weird. I apologize. It's just a lot to think about. There's some seriously deep meaning behind Garvey's choice to advertise this song, don't kid yourself. It's not as if he simply heard it over the weekend and decided the rest of us may enjoy it on a monday morning too.

SOD: Tedeschi Trucks Band "Bound For Glory"

I cant believe Revelator has already been out for well over a year now. Where has the time gone? Music is often a very solid and surefire way for me to keep track of how much time has passed between one point and another. I can usually remember quite accurately when an album was released, or a single first played. Ah, I guess that doesn't sound so surefire. But it works...sometimes.

I remember very clearly, listening to the TTB's first album effort and it's insane impact upon me. I wanted to board up my windows and doors, and hole up in my apartment to just sit and listen. To absorb. Then I realized, it was a great album to have in the car, so I kept a copy in my bag for rides. Now, many plays through the album later, I still enjoy hearing cuts from it once in a while, and I'll even throw it on here and there. It's comforting to know I have it around, like an old stuffed animal from your early years.

I went to Friday Nights TTB show at the Beacon. I hadn't been that pumped up for a show, probably since my last show. I abstained from reading the last nights setlist for the most part, even though I did catch a peak at a couple songs they played. Leon Russell was the opening act, and he came out later on in the show as well to do a "Space Captain" with them. I was insanely jealous, being that "Space Captain" is quite possibly my all time favorite song, and Leon Russell was the original pianist on the Mad Dogs and Englishmen track. But I was ok with it in the end because The Wood Brothers opened up TTB on Friday, and along with Anders Osborne, they are probably my most listened to new artist in the past three years (as that's when Matt really introduced their full body of work to me). Singer/Guitarist Oliver Wood even co-wrote "Ball and Chain" with Tedeschi and Trucks, so I would expect to at least here that fabulous tune. I was not disappointed, as it was every bit as good as I expected.

"Bound for Glory" is another one of my favorites off this album, though I must confess my "favorites" have constantly changed since the album's been released. I think at some point I've considered every single song to by my favorite, no joke (Aside from "Simple Things.") Co-written by vocalist Mike Mattheson, Susan Tedeschi, and Derek Trucks, "Bound for Glory" is bluesy, clever, and subtly brilliant (when it wants to be). And all that's before the chorus when the song completely opens up and blows the ceiling off your world.

I love Bonnie Raitt. Always have. I have vivid memories of my mother playing her albums through my childhood. She was one of the first examples of what "sexy" was to me. Sheryl Crow came along and tried her hand in that world, but she didn't hold a candle to Bonnie's talent or style. Bonnie was the kind of woman that made cool a female trait. Watching her play guitar, and slide guitar especially, oh man it don't get better than that. But now we've got Susan, and so far she's giving Bonnie a run for her money. Matt and I have discussed it, and while Susan's voice is more powerful, we still prefer Bonnie's smoky rasp.

But lets not confuse the issue, Susan Tedeschi is not trying to be a Bonnie Raitt ripoff. Sure, she's got elements of Bonnie's style, but she's also got some of the wildness of Janis Joplin, and a mastery of the blues that I think even Bonnie would agree is tremendous. Her solo work at Friday's show was incredible. The best I've seen yet. I know there is so much more to come from her, and that's an exciting prospect.

I haven't even mentioned Derek Trucks yet, and he's probably the best guitarist in the game today. But that goes to show you that this group isn't about the individuals. I know I've made a case that Susan Tedeschi (being the frontwoman of the group) is in the spotlight, but it's not that simple. The strength and quality of this group is in the group itself. They are a family from what I have read and seen. They work together, they listen to music together, they write together, and they create this tremendous sound, together. The whole is greater than it's parts, and it's so inspiring to see that such good musicians can and will do that. To see Derek Trucks take a back seat in some of the songs is a testament to his humbleness and class. To watch Mike Matheson do three songs of backup before he's featured at all, well that's the kind of attitude that opens the door for a great show. Kofi Burbridge got a lot of playtime on the keys and even the flute, as did the entire horn section. Kofi's brother Otiel, got his usual bass/drum interlude and they even brought up guests (like the aforementioned Oliver Wood, and saxophone virtuoso Bill Evans). They really spread it around in this group, and that's the main reason why they're so versatile in their sound. I don't know if people realize how fortunate we are to have music like this being made today. I know I do.

Tedeschi Trucks Band - Bound for Glory - Live from Atlanta

SOD: David Bowie "Song For Bob Dylan"

DCV got us all on a David Bowie kick recently. He passed out a few albums he had, and the rest of us dug in deep. Personally, Hunky Dory(1971) is my favorite right now. It's got a little bit of everything, from good old fashioned rock songs like the ode to the Velvet Underground, "Queen Bitch" to the simple, piano driven fare of "Oh! You Pretty Things." The latter is an all-time Bowie favorite of mine. This album even has a song written for "Zowie Bowie" (aka Duncan Jones, David Bowie's son who is now a successful director of film), called "Kooks." Apparently he wrote this poppy little number for his newborn son, modeling it after early 70's Neil Young, whom he happened to be listening to at the time.

In addition to "Queen Bitch," directed at the Velvet Underground, there are a couple of other songs on the album directed at specific people. "Andy Warhol" is an acoustic song about, well, you guessed it. The song has a unique style to it, and the opening riff (which repeats itself throughout), has spanish tendencies. The sparse acoustic arrangement gives the lyrics and vocal melodies a nice boost, though sparse as it is, those acoustic guitars are still the driving force behind the entire song.

In my personal opinion, the lyrics of this song are well crafted and spot on (in accordance with my own impressions of the man). The vocal harmonies in the chorus are quite unrefined, yet perfectly pitchy. Of course the message itself is literal and poignant:

Andy Warhol looks a scream
Hang him on my wall.
Andy Warhol, Silver Screen
Can't tell them apart at all.

 If you couldn't tell already, I'm a fan of this track as well, but apparently Andy Warhol was not. I could see a couple things that may have left Warhol a bit perturbed, but in the end, if David Bowie writes a song about you like this and includes it on his album, I'd take that as a positive on the whole.

Then theres "Song for Bob Dylan," today's SOD. It's a song written for the man himself, and I'm hard pressed to think it's coincidence that a song for Andy Warhol and Bob Dylan wound up on the same album. Especially when the chorus to the song is:

Ah, here she comes, here she comes, here she comes again
The same old painted lady, from the brow of a super brain
She'll scratch this world to pieces as she comes on like a friend
But a couple of songs from your old scrapbook, 
Could send her home again

Now I've got to assume she is Edie Sedgewick, and though the song was recorded months before her death, it's all to germane that a month after her death, this album came out. On the heels of a tragedy Bowie seemed all to prepared for, the song holds a lot of significance. Though the song isn't written in a typically dylan-esque style per say (then again, after 50 year in the game, Bob's pretty much done all styles), there are flashes of Dylan in Bowie's vocal work for sure, and even in the cadence of some of the lyrics. Some of its actually quite amusing.

I quite enjoyed the first verse of the song, which seems to set the stage for how Bowie interprets Dylan:

Oh, hear this Robert Zimmerman I wrote a song for you
About a strange young man called Dylan 
With a voice like sand and glue
Some words of truthful vengeance they could pin us to the floor
Brought a few more people on and put the fear in a whole lot more

I'd say Bowie had a pretty good handle on what Dylan was all about leading up to the turn of the decade, and he certainly must've had a great respect for him to dedicate the entirety of a song to him.

Also worth noting on this album is the song "Quicksand" which features a bigger more epic musical arrangement (with strings, acoustic guitars, a prominent piano part, and saxophone), and some very heavy lyrics as well. It has a broad and sweeping sound, and is also the second longest track on the album clocking in at 5:04. It's another personal favorite of mine.

Finally, and maybe I should've mentioned this first, the album opens with the song "Changes" which is one of Bowie's most recognizable and beloved songs (though it actually missed the Top 40 oddly enough). Bowie himself was the epitome of change, constantly reinventing himself, his persona, looks, and sound. To his credit though, he always maintained a steady relationship with his audience and the spotlight, and though all those recreations would've probably spelled doom for the vast majority of other artists, David Bowie embraced the change and made it a vital component to his formula for success. I've got a tremendous amount of respect for the man's creative force and musical impact, and I'm thrilled to be rediscovering him (and all the different him's) again. Props to DCV.

Song For Bob Dylan David Bowie

A Junkyard Playlist 9/19/12

Just a little something that got whipped up this morning. I'm only half into it myself...

As always, click links or check spotify.

1. Bottle of Red Wine - Eric Clapton

2. Heading For The Light - Traveling Wilbury's

3. Down In The Flood - The Derek Trucks Band

4. Fool - Donavon Frankenreiter

5. Country Road - James Taylor

6. For The Asking - John R. Burr

7. Ballad of the Pines - Jonathan Wilson

8. Columbine - Townes Van Zandt

9. Snowblind Friend - Steppenwolf

10. I Thought You Should Know - Steve Earle

11. Yet Again - Grizzly Bear

12. Holly Roller Novocaine - Kings of Leon

13. One of These Days - Doves

14. Green Flower Street - Donald Fagen

15. The Rover - Led Zeppelin

16. Big Love (live) - Fleetwood Mac

17. Throw Down A Line - Jeff Beck

18. Lost In the Flood (live) - Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band

19. Little Black Angels - Jonah Smith


TRT: 78:16

SOD: Paul Simon "Kodachrome"

The video is a bit much, but the song is great. For some reason, listening to it makes me feel youthful. Not that I'm so old (please, bite your tongues), but this song makes me feel like a kid again.

The song was released on the 1973 album There Goes Rhymin' Simon, which largely escaped my attention (besides this song). When I tried to go back and listen to it recently, I don't think I was in the right mindset. Then again, given what I've been listening to lately, an overproduced soulful Paul Simon album might not really get its fair due on my speakers right now. Though I will say "Take Me to the Mardis Gras" was quite enjoyable, I didn't really get much further than that. Shame on me. Sorry Paul.

Nonetheless, Kodachrome has gotten it's fair share of play time. Garvey is a big fan of this Kodak based song, and there's a good chance that if you catch him screwing around with your ipod in the corner, he's looking for this track. The Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section (based out of Muscle Shoals, Alabama) not only have the coolest name ever, but they lent their talents to this tune. Also known as The Swampers, these guys have played on more than 75 gold or platinum hits. That's a pretty big number, eh?

One final thought. I did make it through "Tenderness" (the second song on the album), before stopping after the third song (the aforementioned "Take Me to the Mardis Gras"). I was pleased to read in the liner notes that Cornell Dupree played guitar on that track. Cornell is of course, one of the founding members of STUFF, one of the best and funkiest bands of all time. Though I know I'm speaking in a lot of wild hyperbole today, don't hold it against me. I'm just in that kind of mood...

Paul Simon - Kodachrome

Keep Your Head Up

Do you remember that commercial for the Windows Phone, in which, people are depicted as being absurdly connected to and engaged in their handheld devices, and wind up doing ridiculous things because of it (like dropping their phone into a urinal and then picking it out, because they were texting while relieving themselves)? The other person in the scene, who is shown as casually smarter or at least more sensible, responds simply by saying (or asking), "Really?"

Well, ever since that commercial came out, I became much more aware of people's gross infatuation with their technology and as funny as some people may find that commercial, it never had that effect on me. In fact, I take that commercial quite seriously because I'm surrounded by those kind of people on a daily basis. The people who continue to look down at their handheld when the subway or elevator doors open, and proceed to walk directly into persons not two feet in front of them. They're usually the same people who walk out into traffic with their heads down and their thumbs fumbling, but somehow never seem to get hit, no matter how badly I wish they would. I'm not saying I want them to be killed or crippled, but I just wish once, the cab drivers horn would malfunction, his foot would accidentally slip off the break pedal, and the daft pedestrian texting in traffic would catch a hard bumper to the soft meat of their upper thigh. Ideally, the device that caused their injury would be destroyed in the process as well.

Now maybe this sounds malicious but I'm not an evil or outright angry person, I swear. I just think that the world we live in has become more about what's at you're fingertips, and less about what's right in front of you. This access to information and/or internet anytime anywhere, is not meant to be taken literally. Case and point, you should not be accessing either when you're in the middle of traffic (as a pedestrian or driver). You should also have the sense to put the phone down for a moment when you're exiting or entering any platforms, rooms, or environments in general, and you should have the courtesy to holster the device when a real person is standing or sitting in front of you, requesting or granting an audience.

It's very frustrating for a person like me to be engaged in a conversation with someone, only to have them break eye-contact and glance down at their phone or computer in the middle of a sentence. Of course they do it in the middle of one of my sentences, as they would never break their own train of thought, or interrupt themselves. Instead, they'd rather get their feelings out on the subject matter, and then blatantly disregard mine by seeming disinterested, or genuinely feeling that the text message or IM that has just popped up on their device, is more important than what I have to say.

My boss does it. My co-workers do it. My girlfriend has done it, as have all my friends at some point. So have I. I'm not beyond the capacity to be rude, even if I don't intend to be. Most of the time, I give myself and other people the benefit of the doubt, and I don't think I or they are intentionally trying to be disrespectful. A few select people I have noticed though, are. One in particular, who will remain anonymous for both our sake's, does this to me on practically a daily basis. It's gotten to the point where I know it's going to happen, so I try to keep my sentences as succinct and packed full of information as possible, because I know I am always one pause or stutter away from losing them.

It's also become a health problem for me. I can feel my blood pressure rise to seriously unhealthy levels. The second they look away from me to focus on whatever is on that screen in front of them (be it a newspaper article, a bill, a fantasy football score, a wikipedia page, a Words With Friends game, an IM from a friend, or anything else that takes priority over the flesh and blood in front of them that's stupid enough to think that they should take precedence over the machine), I lose it. There's nothing like feeling you've been disrespected to your face. At least if I find out that someone has disrespected me behind my back, I think they had the wherewithal and respect (to a certain degree), not to do it to my face. But to do it so blatantly and consistently is practically a declaration of war in my eyes, and I'll never understand or accept it.

So keep this in mind next time your phone or computer rings, buzzes, or 'alerts' you, when there is an actual human being engaged in some form of communication with you. It's rude to choose the machine over the man, and its humiliating to be on the other end of that wrong choice. Technology may have given us the world at our fingertips, but it didn't give us the right to forget about common courtesy and  respect. Put the phone down, and look people in the eye when you are speaking or listening to them. That simple step alone may noticeably change the communication and people skills that many of us (especially in my generation), are lacking today.

SOD: Eric Clapton "Bottle of Red Wine"

Eric Clapton's eponymous solo debut album has always been held in high regard by yours truly. With virtually the same contributors that formed Delany and Bonnie's band (including Delaney and Bonnie themselves), the music is a continuation of their sound, with Eric Clapton taking center stage on guitar and vocals. Delaney co-wrote six of the songs with Clapton, and convinced Clapton to do the album in the first place (using his all-star cast of session players). It's also said that Delaney is the one who convinced and taught Clapton to sing the blues.

 The vocals on this track are shared between Clapton and Bonnie Bramlett, and they are perfect for one another. The album version of this track (which I cannot seem to find on youtube for copyright reasons I'm sure), even has shades of "Faces" type vocal work and rhythm, in my opinion. The driving beat and rhythm section is as one would expect, very indicative of the work that these same musicians did when joined by Duane Allman to form Derek and the Dominoes in the spring of 1970. 

Bottle of Red Wine is by no means the "single" off this album, in fact I think it may be overlooked at times. But it is a favorite of mine nonetheless. All the parts work very harmoniously together to create a well balanced, succinct blues song. The guitar solo is short and sufficient (like the song itself), and I'm not saying that I don't love those endless guitar conversations between Allman and Clapton from the Domino years, but there's something to appreciate about these shorter tunes too. The more popular songs to come out of this album were "After Midnight", which was originally written by J.J. Cale in 1966, and "Let It Rain" which would become a concert staple of Clapton's.

Eric Clapton "Bottle of Red Wine" (Derek and the Dominos Live at Fillmore)

SOD: Grateful Dead "Catfish John"

I guess I still have fishing on the mind.

But The Dead are in my ears. I listened to Terrapin Station(1977) today in full. An album that when it came out, angered many of the Dead faithful, as it was widely considered a departure from their blues/jazz roots. Though this funky little number would suggest otherwise, it's not indicative of the album in full. It's a more produced album than I'm used to from them, some say it borders on Prog Rock, but I'm not ready to say that after one listen. But I'm not perturbed by any of that. In fact, I rather like it.

Maybe that's because I am, unbeknownst to many, not a "Dead Head." It's not that I don't like them, I just never got head over heels into them, nor did I have a forum to. My parents didn't listen to a lot of them, nor did my friends growing up. It's not an excuse, it's just a fact. Im enjoying them more and more these days, and really starting to dig into albums. It's a slow process because there's so much out there I want to listen to (The Dead and otherwise), but I'm making some progress.

Any listening suggestions would be much appreciated. Happy Friday.

Grateful Dead - Catfish John

On The Edge / Over The Edge

I took a little time off from work, and decided to spend it relaxing out at my folks house on the island. I didn't plan any activities, or seek out anything to do on my own. I sat back, completely removed from an internet connection, and I shutoff my cellphone for large portions of the day too. At first my plan was to spend the daytime at the beach, and the night time enjoying some libations with familiar faces. But this plan was upended when Kims father John, invited myself, Kim, and two very close friends of mine (Jimmy and Jay), to join him on a tuna fishing expedition.

John owns one of the nicest sea faring vessels a man can have. It's a Viking that's as much a yacht as it is a fishing boat, but mainly used for the latter. He's got a great crew of down-to-earth seamen who are both knowledgeable and amicable, and on top of that you never know who may show up for one of these trips (once, John even invited the guys who fixed his hot water heater to join him on a trip when he found out they were anglers). This year there haven't been to many trips, so there was a good amount of guys on the boat, many of whom were friends of the captain, Tommy.

Tommy was the "First Mate" (for all intensive purposes), on the first fishing trip that Jimmy and I took with John, over 7 years ago. Back then, an ex-Merchant Marine and friend of John's named Jim Johnson, was the captain. Mr. Johnson, as Jimmy and I called him, is one of the best guys I've ever got to talking to. He has the demeanor you'd expect from a captain; stoic, hard eyed, and astute, but he was never too rough around the edges, and appreciated a good joke or story. There was a lot that Jimmy and I could learn from him. Both he and Kim's father share many of the same qualities and interests, and they seemed to be very good friends. Jimmy and I had a lot of good times on the trips we'd take with them and the other angling aficionados. They always made us feel wanted and welcome. That was of course unless you lost one on the line.

As the years went by, Mr. Johnson slowly resigned from his navigational duties, and other men took up the torch. "Captain Al," a staple of the fishing and leisure trips, was no stranger to the compass or the wheel. He certainly put his hours in on the bridge. Billy, a taxidermist by trade, manhandled tuna that far outweighed him, gaffing, gutting, flushing, and ultimately filleting the sea beasts as best as I've ever seen. He seems to be a hands-on guy in all aspects of life, and he's extraordinarily well versed in the world of wildlife. Mr. Cunningham was an oft seen face on those early voyages as well. He too was quite skilled in the art of the filet. I always remember when we'd finally get back to the docks, he was the first to the table with a sharpened knife in his hand. And though I haven't seen much in this world, I'll tell you with a guttural certainty that these men all knew what they were doing, even when they didn't.

The sea is an unpredictable beast. As best prepared as you are, the laws of nature dictate that we don't belong out there, standing on floating fiberglass with 7000 feet of god knows what below us. Some men seem to be instinctually built for this, others not so much. Though I've never gotten seasick (and I've been in some rough waters surprisingly enough), I don't have that innate draw to the hunt and thrill of the catch that all these men share, my buddy Jimmy included. I love the ocean. I grew up swimming in it before I could walk, and I learned the power that it beheld even crashing on the shore. But out there, way out there, where these men dare to track their trophies, I'm as lost as an eskimo in Albuquerque.

In past trips out toward the canyons of the Atlantic, I've seen all sorts of finned creatures hit the deck of John's appropriately named boat, "On The Edge". Sharks, bass, barracuda, tuna, and an ocean worth's more, have all landed on that same familiar patch of the cockpit. I've fought and landed decent sized tuna, and I've lost one on the rod as well. That's never a good feeling. I've also sat back and admired the beauty that can only be seen out there. The pods of whales, the porpoises and dolphins, all mere arms lengths from your reach. The serenity and wisdom that one feels a part of on those waters is ancient. The sea holds a secret that you can't be told. You get a little closer to understanding it every trip you take, and by that logic, I have a long way to go. Some of these men are getting close though. And whether or not you fancy yourself a deep or introspective person, you can't help but admire and reflect on the magnificence of life, and of creation. Religious or not, it doesn't matter. The ocean is itself a church, an ubiquitous cathedral, and when you enter it you should be as humbled as a servant before his god.

Tommy always takes time to admire the beauty of it all. Be it for a moment in the morning when the giant red ball of fire seems to rise straight up from water itself, or in the evening, as it returns to the immeasurable depths. You've never seen a sunrise or a sunset until you've seen it from the ocean, surrounded by water for hundreds of miles in every direction. The greatest artists never had a palette as pure and vast as the reds, blues, pinks, purples and everything in between offered up by an ocean sky at sunset. Tommy commented on this to Jimmy and I on our first trip, and I immediately respected him for it. Masculinity is respected in hobbies such as these and emotionality, though not outwardly rejected, is not always acknowledged or welcomed. Tommy has always displayed an affinity towards both. Since becoming a full time caretaker of the vessel, he's certainly invited more stress onto himself, as a day without catch will always be attributed to a shortcoming on his part, even if it's only in his own eyes. Fortunately for everyone, this last trip was as far to the other extreme as one could get.

Jimmy, Jay, and I arrived at the Lawrence docks sometime around 11pm. Weighed down by food and beverages in bulk, the rest of the party was already fully in gear on the boat, save for Kimi and her father. Live bait was in the on-board tank, chum in the buckets, and array of brightly colored lures, jigs, and all other manner of trickery, strewn across the cockpit. No sooner had I unloaded my share of supplies, than Kimi and her father arrived, and the engines were started. Aside from those on the bridge who navigated us out to the waters in which we would spend the next 30 or so hours, we took this time to catch up on the sleep we would surely need for the excitement to come. Unfortunately, I could not seem to breach that barrier of consciousness, and so instead I read Rolling Stone articles, and ate grilled chicken breasts that Jimmy and I had cooked before we left. Though it didn't feel like it was very long, sometime in the early hours of the morning we reached our destination. The engines slowed, and right on cue the men bustled from their beds. Like lemmings we shuffled outside one by one, and took in the vast landscape. It all came back to me. I was out here again. Lines were dropped into the water, cigarettes lit, and anticipation of the first hit, began to grow.

Though we heard numerous shouts of excitement about catch numbers and weights over the radio, our first few hours were as quiet as could be. Not even a bite, aside from an unlucky Barracuda that somehow got himself caught. We put him in the bait tank, where he subtly taunted us and our misfortune. It seemed every other vessel was catching more than their share, but we couldn't get a thing. Even as the sun came up and we went trolling, no such luck would be cast on us. Still, the other boats caught, and caught, and caught. Accusations of loud engines, and disruptions our boat could cast on the water, were slung. Everyone wanted to blame something, but nobody really knew for sure. Eventually John had enough. He decided he would take the 15 foot Zodiac (coyly named "Over The Edge") out himself to change up the game. Jimmy, a greenhorn by all accounts in this situation, decided to accompany him. Captain Tommy was not enthusiastic about their chances or their safety, but did what he had to do to get the boat in the water and all geared up.

Now, it must be noted, this is not the first time John has attempted something like this. A few years back he took the Zodiac out (which is essentially and inflatable boat with a wheel and a powerful engine), and wound up getting in an hours long fight with a swordfish. It was quite the battle as it was recanted to me by multiple sources, with the upper hand swaying back and forth. Eventually, the swordfish used its aptly named "sword" to puncture and deflate one side of the zodiac, before ultimately succumbing to the willpower of a determined fisherman. Pictures were taken, and a great story was born. From that point on, I think John felt justified in using the Zodiac as a fully capable fishing vessel.

Shortly after John and Jimmy hit the open seas in a 15 foot inflatable, the fish hit us. Men that could've passed for dead, sprung to life shouting "fish on", and "get those fucking lines out of the water!" Though my recollection of the timing is hazy, it seems that Jimmy and John got their first "fish on" in the Zodiac, around the same time. One of Tommy's friends named Dave, was the first to grab the "U" shaped rod that seemed ready to leap from it's holder and into the drink. A belt was strapped around his waste, and he got to work. After a worthy battle, a 180lb Big Eye was slammed on board. That was Billy's cue, and he got right to work. Hacking and carving with an expert eye and hand, the fish looked like something you'd find on ice at a market in no time. Then the Zodiac pulled up and unloaded her catch, a smaller Yellow Fin, but a hell of a fish to boot. Jimmy and John were beaming. Billy again got to work on the carcass. Moments later another Big Eye was on, then another. Louis grabbed the rod with the biggest fish on it, unbeknownst to him, which was purposed to have weighed over 200lbs. Then the Zodiac came back, and unloaded another Yellow Fin. Spirits were high, and everyone was all riled up. The Barracuda was no longer mocking us from the tank, but was now looked upon fondly as our "Mascot." It was decided in jest, that "On The Edge" would catch the Big Eyes, and "Over The Edge" would handle the Yellow Fins. Everyone laughed, and the fish kept biting.

Eventually, a gorgeous sunset painted the perfect backdrop for a makeshift dinner. I sat near the edge (no pun intended) of the boat, staring out at pod after pod of pilot whales who were all surfaced. It seemed that like the fish, they sensed a storm was coming and were instinctually feeding in preparation for it. That's why the fishing was to be so good, and hence why this trip was hastily put together. Everything seemed to be as it should be. Things were calm for the moment, though at any point could be stirred up as lines were always trolling in the water. After eating, I retreated to the cabin where Kim was already resting. I decided to join her, and we teetered on the edge of sleep for an hour or so.

 Eventually we were fully awakened by the return of John and Jimmy. Sunburned, soaked, a little cold and a little more tired, the two looked liked veterans of a naval strife. They had spent the day zipping around the great Atlantic in a boat smaller than many cars. They deserved a break, heck I was surprised the two of them didn't fall down flat where they stood. But somehow they cleaned up a bit, changed their rags, put some grub in their tanks, and were ready for more. John came over to me and asked if I was ready. Not knowing he was referring to anything specific I said, "Sure am." To which he responded, "Good. Cause we're going back out in the little boat." Jimmy overheard this, and decided that he wasn't passing up that opportunity. He loudly stated he was joining, which prompted John to turn back to me and say (as though I didn't hear Jimmy) "Oh, and Jimmy's coming too." I looked to Kim, and I'm sure there was some hesitation in my eyes, but with a smile and a nod, she gestured, go for it. Again, Tommy was not all-to-pleased with the decision, but he did everything he possibly could to make sure we were comfortable, well supplied, and safe.

So there we were. Three guys, two poles, one bucket of chum. Midnight in five foot swells on the open Atlantic, in an inflatable boat. I have to say, the life jacket didn't make me feel as safe as I thought it would. At first, John drove the Zodiac about 100 feet away from the main boat as we prepared ourselves to drop lines into the water. You have to understand, everything is harder on an inflatable. Every move someone makes, effects everyone else, and though this zodiac has an engine and isn't quite a dingy, it's still susceptible to movements. Especially to the movements of a 6'1, 200 lb. man-o-beast otherwise known as Jimmy. To call him less than graceful, is more than a compliment and he'd tell you so himself. So, needless to say, things are a little more compounded by all this, and of course lets not forget, I have no fucking idea what I'm doing! Jimmy just went through a five hour crash course with John, and here I am, violently thrown into the same position.

Like a surgeons assistant, John and Jimmy are calling on me for supplies, and I'm rummaging through bags and pails to find them. I was also in charge of chumming the waters (throwing fish carcases and guts into the waters around our poles to attract all manner of sea beasts and hopefully tuna), so it went a little something like this:

Jimmy: I need a sinker.
Dylan: Check. Here you go.
Jimmy: And a rubberband.
Dylan: Got it.
John: You got a hook in there?
Dylan: Check, hook on your right.
Jimmy: Hey man you gotta move over there, you're in my way.
Dylan: Alright alright, take it easy.
John: You chumming Dylan? Gotta keep chumming.
Dylan: Ok, I'm on it. Chumming now. You want me to do both sides of the boat?
John / Jimmy: No / Yes.
John: Chum in the direction of the lines, we dont want it going out to sea cause that'll take the fish away from us.
Dylan: Got it, ok.
John: That's the wrong way. 
Dylan: Oh, sorry.
Jimmy: Come on man you just threw Chum all over me!
Dylan: Sorry Jimbo, it's hard to see.
Jimmy: You gotta be more careful man, I'm gonna stink like this shit now!
Dylan: Jimbo, you already stink like that shit ... WHACK (Jimmy spins around and accidentally hits me in the head with the net pole):
Jimmy: Ah jeez, sorry man.
Dylan: Yea I bet you are.
John: FISH ON!

Then the real fun begins. After getting dragged halfway across the Atlantic by a 150+ pound Tuna, now we've tired the thing out, and Jimmy's got to hook it's mid-section with a gaff, and drag it onto the boat without losing the fish, falling over, knocking someone else over, or missing the fish, gaffing the inflatable, and thus potentially drowning us all.

Swing-and-a-miss. Jimmy put all his weight into that first strike, came up empty, and the force of motion carried him backwards a single step. Another step would've landed him in the water.

John: Easy Jimmy.
Jimmy: Yea I got this. UMPH!

He nailed the sucker straight in the gut. It struggled a moment, then gave in. John grabbed the back of the pole when he saw Jimmy was having a little trouble getting the thing in the boat, and together they landed it. Now there was even less space, and a spastic fish sending chum and equipment flying. I caught a piece of bait in the eye. Fuckin' fish, I thought to myself. John fired up the engine, and asked, "Where's the big boat?" Hmm. Where was the big boat? The Tuna and the current had dragged us a solid mile away from our boat, and there in the midnight water and sky, I spotted the pilot lights. John revved the engine, but we couldn't proceed very fast. The water had gotten choppy, the wind had picked up, and the swells were tossing the little boat around a bit now. Nonetheless we arrived, where Tommy, Jimmy, Dave, and Louis were waiting. Like proud dogs delivering a duck to its master, we unloaded our catch and headed back out for more. Again, the back and forth started:

Jimmy: Alright what's left for bait, that fucker didn't swallow the squid so we still got that. 
Dylan: Why don't you just use this other pole, it's already rigged up and ready to go?
John: Yea, Jimmy carefully hand me that rod, and drop the other line in.
Dylan: Easy man, you can't just shove it at me, I gotta find a place to put this gaff first.
Jimmy: Yea alright well hurry up I gotta get this line in the water.
Dylan: Hey, cool your guns there Shooter, I can't see a thing.
John: Here's the light.
Dylan: Ah, ok. 
(A little shuffling around and clumsy maneuvering)
John: I snapped the rubberband you got another one?
Dylan: I'm not sure let me check.
Jimmy: There's one in there I saw it.
Dylan: Where's that?
Jimmy: I don't know you had the bag last.
Dylan: Well you moved everything around so I don't know where it is now?
John: (chuckles)
Dylan: Bingo. Rubberband.
John: Shit, snapped it.
Dylan: Another rubberband coming up.
John: Okay. Got a sinker?
Dylan: Sure do, it's right...
Jimmy: HOLY SHIT FISH ON!

We snapped back to action. Chum goes flying, Jimmys on the pole, but looking a little shaky.

Jimmy: I can't gaff this thing if I'm reeling it in!
John: Ok I'll take the pole from you, but we need to bring it around this side.
Dylan: The pole doesn't have a security line either.
John: Ok that's the first thing. Dylan get a rope, tie it around this part of the frame, and then give me the clipped end to hook onto the rod.

That whole procedure could've taken some people about 15 seconds. It took us about 5 minutes. All the while this fish is dragging us to hell and higher water. Finally John starts reeling it up. The fish is tired, the fight is shorter. Jimmy's improved significantly with the gaff, and gets it on the first try. He also hauls it onto the boat in one smooth maneuver. Things are looking up.

By this point, the seas have grown. The wind is vigilant, and standing up is a risky proposition. John decides that we're going to tie a rope around the tail of this 100+ lb. beast, and drop her over the side of the boat to sit, while we try for one more. What the hell I thought, three's better than two.

Rigging up the pole is taking some time. Similar banter ensues though the back and forth between Jimmy and I is friendlier. It's amazing how a fish can change a man's mood. Eventually the lines are baited and dropped in the water, and we wait. The seas are straight kicking now. We're riding up waves, and back down them. Some even appear to be cresting slightly. I suggest that maybe it's time to go in, expecting to be shot down. But John concurs, and Jimmy is all to eager to agree. John passes me the fluorescent light. It's a bright green tube light that's connected to the battery, and you put it in the water to light up everything up around you. I stand up to try and maneuver closer to the edge of the boat, and something flashes in the wave that's approaching us.

Dylan: What was that? Did you see that?
Jimmy: Don't fuck around man. We're in seven-thousand feet of water a mile away from the boat and you're gonna pull that shit?
Dylan: I'm not fucking around, seriously, did you see that?
Jimmy: NO I DIDN'T "SEE THAT", put the goddamn light in the water!

I place the fluorescent light in the water, and there, not two feet from my hand, is a Great Hammerhead Shark. This was no fish. The thing was practically the size of the boat we were sitting in, and it was going for the Tuna we had left bleeding in the water. That was clearly a mistake. Jimmy and I jumped back, one of us shrieked. I think it was Jimmy. We spun around and there, another Hammerhead was circling the other side of the boat, and another disappeared directly beneath us. My heart skipped a little, we were being circled by sharks. This was not a situation I had been prepped properly for.

Dylan: We need to get out of here. Now.
Jimmy: FUCKING CHRIST WE GOTTA GET OUTTA HERE! John turn the boat on, leave the fish, lets go man!
John: Ok. Jimmy haul the fish on the boat.
(Jimmy and I look at each other)
Jimmy: Uh, we gotta leave the fish. Forget the fish. WE GOTTA GO, WE GOTTA GO NOW!
John: Ok, but get the fish on the boat first.

Jimmy doesn't move. John moves past him and starts pulling up the fish himself. I decide I've seen all I need to and bring the light back on the boat. I shout to Jimmy:

Dylan: JIMMY! Start reeling up the rods man! We can't go until they're up!
Jimmy: Fuck the rods! We Gotta Go! John, please can we just go!
Dylan: We can't LEAVE the rods!
Jimmy: Sure we can. Start the boat, hit the gas, we're gone. That easy.
John: Alright, lets go. Jimmy start reeling.

John started the boat, he was as cool as a cucumber. I could see one of the hammerheads still, but it disappeared in a wave. The waters were kicking now, and the wind was strong. I was standing in front of the wheel, but reaching back to steer the craft while John untangled and reeled up the lines. Jimmy intently watched the waters around us. We weren't moving very quick at all, and that gave way to some agitation. Jimmy asked, "Can't this thing go any faster?!" Unfortunately it couldn't, as the swells were so large that the boat was more riding waves than traveling under our authority.

After what seemed like longer than either Jimmy or I wanted, we reached "ON THE EDGE." Jimmy and I were both figuratively and literally Over The Edge at this point, and both of us wanted off the little boat. The water however, would not allow it. The waves were carrying us all over the place, and it was very difficult to get close to the big boat. Tommy and his boys were fervently trying to get a hold of us, but we were being tossed around like a hacky-sack in a hippy house. First we got the fish off the little boat. Then the net and the gaff, and finally some of the incidentals. Jimmy and I jumped from boat to boat, and the crew pulled us over the rail, and onto the deck. They laughed and teased us, poked a little fun, but it was all in good jest. I tried to play it off cool quite unsuccessfully, and Jimmy told them outright that they were nuts. "You didn't see what we saw, cause if you did, you'd be pretty freaked out too," he said.

John remained on the small boat. He piloted it around to the side of the big boat, and stayed on it the whole time, even as the wench lifted the boat out of the sea and into the wind, ultimately settling it on the bow. I was on the bridge with Captain Al, recanting my story to him. At the end of my tale, he shot me a veterans smile that said, Hey kid, I know what you mean, but still I seen worse. Al's a solid guy underneath his sometimes tough exterior, and he loves a good story. He sure can tell one. For a few minutes the two of us just sat up there, watching the escapade of securing the small boat in the high seas, down below. When John was finally back on board, I went down to meet him in his quarters. He seemed quite unaffected by the whole thing. In fact, his first comment once he was back on board was about the great added catch. Tough guy, I thought, I'll give him that. Then again, he was in the same midnight waters with half his boat deflated, battling against a Swordfish that was likely more dangerous than all those sharks put together. He too had seen worse, I guess.

In the main cabin, Jimmy and I recounted the story for Kim, Jay, and the remaining crew, not needing to embellish a thing. Some of the guys kept fishing through the wee hours of the morning, but we were exhausted. We settled down in the moments calm. Jimmy and I exchanged a cool look, as we so often have. It was all that was needed at that point. We've been at each other's sides since we were in grammar school, and he's the closest thing to a brother I've got. We've been through a lot together, more than ever need be told, and this was another story for the books. For us, it was as crazy a trip "On The Edge," as we would ever take. About as crazy as the storm we got stuck in once. But as they say, that's a story for another time.

SOD: Al Green "Take Me To The River"

Yea, I've got fishing on the brain. Having returned from a deep sea Tuna expedition with a ton of fish (literally over 2000 pounds of fish), what do you expect? There were some interesting encounters, comical moments, and plenty fish to go round. And any excuse to listen to Al Green is a good one in my book.

Though I'll be ridiculed, I definitely like this version better than the Talking Heads take and after all, this is the original. The Memphis Horns lent their talents on this track, and frankly, they may be the garnish that sells the dish. Without those horns, the song loses a lot of its depth and punch. So thanks boys.

An interesting tidbit I found about this song, is that a writer for The Independent purposes that the song  is a face-off between Al Greens religious leanings, and his more "earthly interest." However, it's noted that when Al became a pastor of the Full Gospel Tabernacle Church (who comes up with these names) in '76, the song was no longer played. Kind of a shame if you ask me. I completely could've seen a church choir version of this song rocking the floorboards of the old Full Gospel Tabernacle.

Al Green-Take Me To The River.

SOD: Bob Dylan "The Man In Me"

After a brief hiatus, I'm back. Faulty internet connections, fishing expeditions, and the Amagansett beaches can all be blamed for the absence, in no particular order.

Bob Dylan's new album just came out. The radio has been playing choice cuts from it leading up to it's release, and by all accounts it's being received well. Did you think it would be otherwise? I'll abstain from passing any judgement before I've heard the album in full at least a handful of times. What I can say as of right now though, is that Modern Times had a much stronger hold on me right out the gate. There's no "Nettie Moore," yet on this album, that forced me to put the world on hold as I got lost in the song.

I'm die hard for Dylan. Sure, I was set up for this since birth being that I was named after him, but in my eyes that was just an introduction. It's not like everyone who was named after their grandfathers really gives a shit about them. Bob Dylan has been somewhat of a spirit guide for me through life. When I was barely three, I remember my dad would sing Blowin' In The Wind to me at night. That and House Of The Rising Sun were the only two songs he knew and could actually sing (my mother has the voice, pops may be a little tone deaf), but he knew how to make them work. When I was a kid, Bob Dylan albums would always be playing in the car, or in the yard, or at the beach on the boom box. One of the first albums I really remember knowing all the songs on oddly enough was Oh Mercy. I can still see the image of "The Man In The Long Black Coat" that I created in my mind as a kid. In middle and high school he got me through those weird years of self doubt, alienation, awkwardness (with myself and the fairer sex) and anger. In college, I discovered the more rare stuff, live albums, and really started to go through his collection album by album, and finally through my twenties, he's taken on a much deeper meaning, influencing my own musical ventures. I don't condemn those who don't like him, but I don't understand them either. Like Bruce, I stand by my assertion that if you don't like him, then you simply haven't heard enough of him.

The Man In Me has become somewhat of an anthem for the film The Big Lebowski, but taken out of that fabricated context, it's really a nice way of saying you bring out the best in me, in song. If I were a woman and a guy sang this song to me, I'd feel pretty good about myself. It's complimentary and explanatory. It's basically a man saying, "Hey babe, I may have a lotta shit going on, and life is a tough  mother, but when you're around I feel like I can be the best version of myself." I mean sure, there may be a bit more to it than that, but not much. I think it's pretty self explanatory.

Also worth noting, is that the song came out on the 1970 album, New Morning. This album came out only four months after Self-Portrait, and was much better received. It wasn't recorded all at once, there was a bit of moving around in the studio, and a lot of time spent and verions trashed. Many songs and versions of them were recorded before the album was finalized. From what I've read, it wasn't an easy process, but then again that's not all too uncommon for Dylan.

"If Not For You" is the opening track, which was also probably the most successful and memorable song off the album. This is due largely in part to George Harrison's cover version (George Harrison - If Not For You). "Went To See the Gypsy" is another favorite of mine, but in my eyes, the album in total is worth something. It was a return to the Dylan that people and critics loved, not that that meant so much to him probably.

The Man in Me *** BoB Dylan ***

SOD: Bruce Springsteen "Lost in the Flood"

Atlantic Records originally billed Bruce as "The next Bob Dylan," and songs like this might be why. The original off of Bruce's first and quite possibly best album, Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J. is an emotional powerhouse driven by a gut wrenching piano performance by David Sancious.  The album is a piano driven one itself, as Bruce was the only guitarist at the time (Van Zandt didn't join on guitar until Born to Run). Many mainstreamers may associate Bruce with guitar rock, as that image of him and his Tele is pretty much seared into our minds at this point, but that's a fallacy. His best songs have always been piano driven in my opinion. That's not to say that the guitar work isn't stellar, Van Zandt and Nils Lofgrin are amazing players in their own way, but they're no bigger than any other part of the band.

The live version of this song from Springsteen live at Hammersmith Odeon, 1975, is simply the truth. This is Rock n' Roll. This is the power that Bruce Springsteen holds. The man is his music, and his music makes him the man he is. He's never been a drinker, never done drugs. A fucked up father can be credited for those choices. Springsteen was so fearful he'd become his father, and slip into serious mental instability if he even tried any kind of substance, that he stayed as far away form them as he could. And nothing in the world comes close to being as powerful as a musician who is his work. His sadness, depression, and trouble fueled his masterpieces as they ate him up inside. It's a double edged sword, but without the pain, there would be no Boss. Without the Boss, there would be a serious deficit in the musical landscape. It's Post Impressionism without Van Gogh.

American Troops and War have always played a recurring role in Springsteen's work. The treatment of homebound troops has been a sore spot for Bruce. He has always had something to say about it, and rightfully so. This is one of the first examples of this topic breaching his work, and an epic one at that. The first verse deals with "The Ragamuffin Gunner" who returns home from the Vietnam War, and of the three insanely crafted verses, it always hit me the hardest.

       And everybody's wrecked on Main Street from drinking unholy blood
       Sticker smiles sweet as the gunner breathes deep, his ankles caked in mud
       And I say "Hey gunner man that's quicksand, that's quicksand that ain't mud
       Have you thrown your senses to the war or did you lose then down in the flood."

That was the line I remembered the first time I heard the song, and that's the line I hear to this day above all others. I can't put my finger on it, but you've got to hear him sing it. Each verse contains a quoted line, either from another character in the song, or as in this one, Bruce himself. The sparse arrangement is like a stage light on the lyrics. In fact, I would implore anyone to read the lyrics to this song without the music. It's just as powerful. And doing so, I think anyone can see the individual talent that Bruce possessed with words. He was as masterful a craftsman as Dylan, and as wild a frontman as James Brown. I still stick by my assertion that those who "don't like Bruce," just haven't heard and seen enough of him yet.

Springsteen - Lost in the Flood