Banging around YouTube (in a melancholy mood)

Triggered by a PBS link on my Facebook wall this morning about David Rawlings, I soon found myself revisiting one of my very favorite artists' music, that being the duo of Gillian Welch and the aforementioned Mr. Rawlings.  If you're unfamiliar, do yourself a favor and look them up.  You might be familiar with them from the movie "O Brother Where Art Though" but they've been around for a long time, and no one performs better live.  As I've gotten older, I rarely listen to anything that isn't stripped down, and that's all they do pretty much is do great voices in harmony and two guitars.
They do my favorite version of "Long Black Veil," originally recorded by Lefty Frizzell, and this little gem, which is perhaps my favorite of theirs.


I soon ended up listening to another favorite, the great and original Merle Haggard.  It's hard to find a song of his that I don't truly enjoy thoroughly but especially like "Tonight, The Bottle Let Me Down" and "Think I'll Just Sit Here And Drink."  Those songs always make me think of my father, who loved Merle and loved his drink even more, which is how he found his demise at the young age of 52 (story for another time maybe).  But I'm going to share a different Merle song with you, one that perhaps you haven't heard.  Again, it makes me think of my dad because it's a song asking for a moment of peace (that's what strikes me the most, though it's a song about death and salvation)...a song that has the rare ability to bring a tear every time you hear it with that taps-like trumpet at the end.


Another version of this song worth finding is by Keith Richards (yes, that Keith Richards)
Are we seeing a trend? Yes, I like the melancholy -- deep, dark, stripped down and unabashed, which is why I tend to gravitate to the singer/songwriter, people whose music comes from their hearts and souls.
(Sorry I'm not smart enough to make these videos fit correctly)

Candlepin Bowling and Bill Chinnock

I came across two things recently that made me remember fondly my youth and teenage years. The first was this feature on "207" about Bill Chinnock, and the second was this article on Boston.com regarding candlepin bowling. I thought I'd share a personal story or anecdote about each and invite others to comment with their stories and or elaborate on mine.
Perhaps the best story, but the one I need help with the most, involves a certain Bill Chinnock concert at the Pittsfield Community Theater, probably sometime in 1979 (one of the very few ticket stubs I can't claim to still have). A handful of us decided that not only did we need to be at this concert but we needed to have flasks or pint bottles of alcohol as well, lest we got thirsty inside. Unlike the famous Dresden ice fishing legend (sorry Chink), getting the alcohol for the Chinnock concert did not involve someone's uncle delivering it to the MCI campus in a black pulp truck. I don't recall where we got it but there's little chance the story is as colorful.
What is most memorable about this concert, aside from getting to see our local music hero, was the fact that not all of us managed to get into the concert with our alcohol intact. Isn't that right, SF? Luckily for us, some of us did! Were we cool or what? If you were there that night, please chime in with any information you have to fill in the story, as my pitiful memory has left me nothing more than what's above.
Regarding candlepin bowling, I'll offer up a couple of quick things. Many of us were on youth bowling leagues or high school intramural leagues at the Pittsfield Bowling Center. Most of my fondest candlepin bowling memories are there, and I'm sure there are plenty of fond memories by others to share. One not so fondly remembered, or better stated as bittersweet, relates to the reward we received in roughly 1972 for winning the Eastern Maine tournament. For whatever reason, that year it was decided that giving jackets was better than trophies. So while my trophies from my glorious youth survived in my mother's attic for many years, that jacket was lost, nay stolen, in less than a year, some idiot 11 or 12 year old having left it on a bench at Manson Park.
Also, any of my MCI classmates who still have the 1980 edition of The Trumpet, go to pages 112 and 113, and in particular look at the names of the teams. Does that bring back some memories? Long live The Zebulons!
I would be very appreciative if you would leave any anecdotes that you'd like to share, elaborate on anything I have said but also if you would please pass this along to anyone who might appreciate it.

Southampton Dock, The Final Cut

While I'm busy today with resumes and trying to do more networking with Maine Independents, I thought this would be a good time for the next installment of Pink Floyd's "The Final Cut." As the album is laid out, this song immediately follows "The Fletcher Memorial Home," which is in a blog called Overgrown Infants. Enjoy, or not...how about ponder.

"They disembarked in '45, and no one spoke and no one smiled...there were too many spaces in the line (my emphasis). And gathered at the cenotaph all agreed with hand on heart to sheath the sacrificial knives.
But now, she stands upon Southampton Dock with her handkerchief, and her summer frock clings to her wet body in the rain. In quiet desparation, knuckles white upon the slippery reins, she bravely waves the boys goodbye again.
And still the dark stain spreads between their shoulder blades, a mute reminder of the poppy fields and graves; and when the fight was over, we spent what they had made. But in the bottom of our hearts we felt the final cut."

This was obviously written in reference to the boys leaving for the Falkland Islands. So just add another chapter for today's boys who have and will embark.
Final Cut Roger Waters Pink Floyd Fletcher Memorial Home Southampton cenotaph Falkland Islands

Overgrown Infants

I've been drawn back recently to the last Pink Floyd album with Roger Waters, "The Final Cut." I wonder why. It was timeless then and poigniant now. I plan to periodically post the lyrics to selected songs, and hopefully they'll make you think as much as they make me think. The first selection I'll post musically starts out with ballroom dancing music, violins.
As you read, you can easily be drawn back 20 years ago when it was written, and you can also easily replace the names to today and get the same effect. In fact, I think he was 20 years ahead of himself in many ways. This album was the final nail for Pink Floyd, as the rest of the boys were tired of this direction in their music. In my opinion it's a masterpiece. It shows the madness and brilliance of Roger Waters, flaming liberal that he is.
If memory serves me correctly, the Fletcher referred to is Roger Waters' maternal uncle who fought in WWII. I don't have the album jacket at my fingertips. I'm sure someone will correct me if I'm wrong.
There is a video for the song but I find it distracting from the lyrics. So I'll link it here if you're not familiar with the song.
The intro is called "Get Your Filthy Hands Off My Desert," which you won't hear on the video.

"Brezhnev took Afghanistan, Begin took Beirut, Galtieri took the Union Jack; and Maggie over lunch one day took a cruiser with all hands, apparently to make him give it back."

Now "The Fletcher Memorial Home:"

"Take all your overgrown infants away, somewhere, and build them a home, a little place of their own; the Fletcher Memorial Home For Incurable Tyrants and Kings. And they can appear to themselves every day on closed circuit TV, to make sure they're still real; it's the only connection they feel.
'Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Reagan and Haig, Mr. Begin and friend, Mrs. Thatcher and Paisley, Mr. Brezhnev and party, the ghost of McCarthy, the memories of Nixon, and now adding colour a group of annonymous Latin American meat packing glitterati.' Did they expect us to treat them with any respect?
They can polish their medals and sharpen their smiles and amuse themselves playing games for awhile...boom, boom, bang, bang, lie down you're dead.
Safe in the permanent gaze of a cold glass eye, with their favourite toys; they'll be good girls and boys, in the Fletcher Memorial Home For Colonial Wasters of Life and limb.
Is everyone in? Are you having a nice time? 'Good time'. Now the final solution can be applied."

I hope that even if you don't agree with this in all its specificity, you'll agree with and appreciate its sentiment.
Final Cut Roger Waters Pink Floyd Fletcher Memorial Home

Listening to Patsy Cline

A metaphor for the current status of my life, you ask? Perhaps. Her voice is soothing regardless of my mood though. Shel was more concerned this weekend when I was sitting at the computer cranking on some Alice In Chains!

Just feeling so stuck and roadblocked when it comes to the job search -- trying to find one I can afford to take and that won't be another step sideways -- and where to start with my more personal blog.
Patsy Cline Alice In Chains