SOD: Donny Hathaway "Jealous Guy"

In the words of Matty, "I hope you have a change of underwear."

This is downright, fuckin' nasty! Donny Hathaway is one of the most unbelievable singer/songwriter/pianists I've ever heard. And up until a little over a year ago, I had no idea who he was. Sure, I'd heard him before, but I didn't know him by any means. But, as with much other music, the Phillips brothers introduced me to Donny, and then saturated my itunes with it. And thank god they did because I couldn't imagine going through life not ever learning of this mans catalogue. 

Donny Hathaway had a long and prosperous collaborative career with Roberta Flack, who is one of my mom's all time favorite vocalists. She is truly a unique talent, and if you think you don't know her, well you're wrong. She's best known for her #1 singles (which I'm sure you've heard, or at least heard covers of) "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face," "Killing Me Softly with His Song," and "Feel Like Makin' Love." That's in addition to "Where Is the Love" and "The Closer I Get to You" which were probably her most famous duets with Donny. "Where Is the Love" won the Grammy for best Pop Performance by a Duo or Group (w/ vocals) in 1973. 

I also learned from Matty that Cornell Dupree (founding member and half the guitar section for one of my all time favorite groups Stuff), can also be heard ripping away on this track. Remember how I said we were fascinated by the incestuous nature of great musicians and groups? There's another couple great examples right there.

But life rarely has fairytale endings, and poor Donny Hathaway is no exception. He suffered from severe bouts of depression, and it was later learned that he was also a paranoid schizophrenic (for which he regularly took some very heavy medication). Imagine suffering from all that, and still being able to make some of the most influential music of his day. That is simply impossible for me to grasp. Unfortunately, in 1979 Hathaway succumbed to his illness and committed suicide. A tragic loss of one of the truly great talents of his day, who remains largely unknown to people of my generation. I'm hoping we can change that.

Thanks to Matty for this amazing cover. Hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. 

Donny Hathaway - Jealous Guy

SOD: Lafayette Gilchrist "Assume The Position"

Granted, the name of this song isn't the most inviting, but this jazzy little tune is ambrosia of the ears and feet. How can you not want to move to this? I'll admit, I've been listening to his music for quite some time now, but I don't know a lot about Lafayette Gilchrist. I know he's from the Baltimore area, and thus was included on music from "The Wire," but I've never seen him live, and I don't really know his story. All I know is some of the music. It doesn't help that he's void of a Wikipedia page.

Some of his stuff is a bit harder to digest than this. It gets very jazzy, and very intricate. This is the song that got me hooked, and is probably his most popular (that's just a guess). It's off the album The Music According to Lafayette Gilchrist, a solid album that I would recommend at least looking up. Though it's not all as accessible as "Assume The Position," if you're into this kind of sound there is much to be enjoyed about it. If nothing else, you'll have given it a shot.

The Wire: Lafayette Gilchrist- Assume the Position

Camp Weirdo Pt.1 - An Overview

Shitting in the woods. You hear about it, you've probably seen it, maybe you've done it. I hadn't in quite some time, and I forgot that there is a method to this madness. It's somewhat of an art. Some prefer to prop their backs on a tree, and bend their knees as though they're sitting on an imaginary bowl. Others crouch and pull the pants forward. Am I giving you enough imagery here? Can you visualize it? No matter what your preferred method of outdoor pinching may be, I think we can all agree on one thing, indoor plumbing was a marvelous invention.

"Camp Wierdo" was established some years ago, quite unbeknownst to me. I can't tell you exactly where it is, because that would be a severe betrayal of trust. This little slice of paradise must remain unknown to all. Except the Russians. Somehow they figured it out, those crafty bastards. But Camp Wierdo is a place where everyone lets their freak flags fly, all at once. And believe you me, we've all got them.

With an apparent record turnout this year, the campsite was 'a bustlin.' I arrived on saturday afternoon, but a whole slew of others had already pre-established the campsite, as they'd been there for a night or two already. Clutter of the outdoor kind littered the common area where the coolers and cook fire was set up. BB guns, throwing knives, hatchets, axes, a maul, and a chainsaw, you know, everything that could possibly make a man feel more manly, or potentially maim him. Food was in the plenty, though according to the resident chef, FBI was a serious threat. That's Food Borne Illnesses for all you culinary simpletons out there. You kind of have to expect somethings wrong when the chef refuses to eat anything but granola.

The trip was filled with hilarity, obscenity, nudity, crudeness, beauty, joy, wretchedness, and brotherly love. I think that about covers the spectra, but in reality it's one of those situations where "you had to be there." I can recount a story to you, and you might even laugh. But to convey the feeling of it is quite difficult, if not impossible. The truth of the weekend was seen in the small moments, the idiosyncrasies. The moments when Nick would put his arm around me and smile. Words were not needed. A simple manly nudge, said more than any words could. Or when Burns would tap-out Kessler, seeing how tired he was from mauling the fallen timber, and take the axe for a turn. Or when Danny and Johnny would lock eyes in the middle of a song, knowing they were on to something. It would undoubtedly trigger someone to say, why is this song NOT in our repertoire?! The moments when Patty, the Camp Counselor and Master of Ceremonies, stood up on a cooler and genuinely thanked everyone for coming. He proclaimed that if you were invited, then you were supposed to be here, a part of this eternal brotherhood. And damnit, it felt right! Maybe I'm just susceptible to that kind of thing.

There was a lot of teasing, chiding, joking and even prodding, but no fighting or arguing. Animosity be damned, this was not the time or place. There were group "jam sessions" and fireside chats, and then there were more personal moments between a couple of friends. For a few days we had our own little society. And as in any society, people had jobs, responsibilities, and tasks. The efficiency level may not have been the optimal 88%, but it was close enough. And it was surprising to me how naturally people fell into their roles. Anyone without purpose was useless, and that's not something you want to be. When "wood duty" was called, you noticed who jumped up first. When food needed to be cooked, you saw who took to the pans. When a jam session was in order, you knew who went straight for the instruments and bustled up the buskers. And though "order" may be overdoing it a bit, there was certainly a hierarchy and natural inclination by individuals to fill certain positions. And when you look at it from that perspective, well, any sociologist would tell you, it's flippin fascinating!

So in that vein, why don't we take a trip over to Part 2 of the Weirdo Expose to analyze the roles, oddities, and comedies of a weekend at the Camp of Weird. I'll see you there.

SOD: Anders Osborne "My Old Heart"

Anders Osborne is a strange character. I first heard his music by way of my hometown band The Frank Stalloners. The Stalloners were playing at a festival in Pennsylvania called Equifunk in 2010, and one of the acts performing there, was Anders Osborne. He came out on stage with a Billy Gibbons like beard, and a shaggy top. He unassumingly wore jeans and a t-shirt, and was accompanied by a drummer and a bassist. Ok, I thought, that's what we're here for right? To hear some music, drink a few beers, get nuts? Well, it didn't take long before I was sold. The man shreds. He's got a great, distinctive voice, and undeniable songwriting talent. He looks like a man from the dirt, and his songs have that earthy, stripped down, honest quality to them. But the guy can really play a guitar. He's not sloppy, but its not entirely clean either. He's located a nice point of existence between the two, that clearly displays his chops, but intentionally muddies it up a little. At times it was straight up beat driven, hardrock/blues. At others, it was a bit more melodic and soulful. But one thing was for sure, it was always heartfelt.

A song or two through his set I turned around, as I was standing in the front row. There was Danny and Matty brotherly shoving each other proclaiming that they had found the next great act. And it was true. Anders became a staple in all of our playlists. I purchased some of his albums and I listened to them extensively, and still do. He's very original, and his influences are very diverse. He was born and raised in Sweden, but by sixteen, he was hitchhiking his way across the world. Literally. He played music in Europe, The Middle East, North Africa, and Asia, before finally settling down in New Orleans. Kind of perfect no? And you can hear a range of different sounds, but that New Orleans flavor permeates the entire palette. I've seen videos of him doing shows as a three piece where he replaces the bassist with a Tubist. You've got to love that. Maybe I'm a novice, but I have not seen a lot of that in my day.

Anders, as mentioned, is also a very accomplished songwriter. He was for-hire on the Nashville scene for quite some time, and his song "Watch the Wind Blow By" was recorded by Tim Mcgraw. It hit No.1 and sold over 3 million albums. He's got a nice collection of albums of his own, my favorites of which would be Ash Wednesday Blues(2001), Tipitina's Live 2006(2006), Coming Down(2007), and  American Patchwork(2010). Though in fairness, I haven't really heard a lot of his early stuff from the late 80's, early 90's.

I also met Anders once outside a benefit concert he was performing at under the title of the "Wetland All-Stars." Now I've met famouses before (that's a Nick Rubino term), but I never gush over, interrupt, or bother them. However, it just so happened that Anders was entering the event at the Hiro Ballroom at the same time Kim and I were. I figured, fuck it, this guy's not that famous and I justified an "excuse me, you're Anders Osborne right? I saw you at Equifunk in 2010, you were awesome man!" Anders turned to me, looked me dead in the eye and said kind of dismissively, "yea man." Then he walked away. Immediately, I felt stupid, which was only compounded by Kimi's all-to-pertinent exclamation, "your a fag." We definitely had a good laugh, because it was out of character for me, and it taught me a valuable lesson; just keep your mouth shut and don't bother the talent.

"My Old Heart" is off the album Coming Down, which has some very heartfelt, stripped down songs and is overall a little less heavy than some of his other albums. That's musically. His lyrics are something else to behold on this one. They're an honest reflection of his emotions about himself. Its very personal, very insightful. He admits his faults, his past, his problems, and in doing so he's "coming down" to earth, to the reality of it all. This is nothing new for Anders, but this soulful introspection is something that he does better than almost anyone else I've ever heard. "My Old Heart," is a great example of this. It's a sad yet soothing gem, that I haven't stopped listening to since I first heard it.

Anders Osborne - My Old Heart