1. Joy on Fire poster for our music video, “Uh Huh,” which
has been an official selection at the Prisma Rome Independent Film Awards (2020),
London Rocks Film Festival (2020), and L.A. Rocks Film Festival (2021). Many
other submissions are pending. You can check out the video through this link.
2. I got my flu shot this year!
3. While the image quality isn’t the greatest, this does
represent the reunion between me and the fox. By reunion, I mean that we jogged
together for the first time since she raised her cubs. As per usual, the fox was
more agile.
4. The “Li’l Liza Jane” project goes onward. Once it’s safe,
I will go to Emory University in Atlanta, via a Rose Library Fellowship, to
research the song in greater depth. We have learned so much about America’s
favorite poor gal, including the fact that the tune has been absorbed internationally
(and nationally) by a great number of cultures. Pictured above is the song
translated into the Chinook language.
A song speaks to us from nearly 60 years ago, one that
acknowledges gloom, to be sure, yet one that traffics amply in propulsion as
well. Too many songs don’t possess such crude sophistication; they’ll either veer
into tinny, tintype, saccharine testaments, or if not, they’ll sag into the
lower registers without any humor whatsoever. We’d otherwise weep into our specialty
cocktails (margarita + pineapple?) while the lightshow berates our questionable
decision-making. Thankfully, “Dark Valley” nourishes us with its worldly grit. It
may inherit some of this momentum from Bo Diddley’s classic freight train racket,
but we offer this last observation cautiously.
We know very little about this song. A man named Darrell
Tatum probably played lead guitar for the Holidays, a group that appeared most likely as a trio, who
recorded “Dark Valley” as an A-side b/w “Desperate” in 1961. Santo Records
released the two songs as catalogue No. 500—potentially its first release—in Memphis,
Tenn. Songwriting credit goes to Messieurs Alonzo Burris & Bruce Welch. Darrell
Tatum and the Holidays joined “the quicksand legions / of history,” to quote the
poet Richard Brautigan, and didn’t seem to record again together; Mr. Tatum may
have recorded two more songs as a solo act on the Fernwood label about four
years later, after which, he may have become
a guitar salesman. This is what we know, which is admittedly very little,
except to say that “Dark Valley” deserves an audience.
sources
of information 45cat entry
for Dark Valley Billboard magazine
July 3, 1961 Dead Wax blogpost on
Darrell Tatum Discogs entry
for Dark Valley Hillbilly Country blogpost
for Santo Records
prelude How did a self-deprecating African American comedy skit
about a drunk, who can’t convince his offstage roommate, Richard, to unlatch
the door, rocket all the way to the top of the charts in 1947? Well, I’m not
really qualified to answer that question, but when has that ever stopped me? The performative roots of “Open the Door, Richard!” may date back to
the nineteenth century, well before a fellow nicknamed McVoutie first converted
the routine into a novelty song, and before the phrase became a Civil Rights slogan.
The song influenced Bob Dylan and Allen Ginsberg, not to mention Yosemite Sam,
in the haunting ether prior to Bugs Bunny sending him off the high dive with
the crucial task of carrying an anvil all the way down.
the skit before the hit It would be unthinkable today for performers of any race to apply burnt cork
makeup and appear, insincerely or otherwise, in “blackface” routines. Yet during
another era, it wouldn’t have been uncommon to do so, for African American comedians
like Dewey “Pigmeat” Markham, John “Spider Bruce” Mason, and Clinton “Dusty”
Fletcher, all three of whom entertained audiences with “Open the Door, Richard!”
in a number of venues, including the waning minstrel circuit of the early
twentieth century. Their versions of the skit may have derived from Bob
Russell, a legendary writer whose career dated to the Civil War era.
Fletcher’s version may have been the most iconic; it was
filmed in 1945. Wearing shoes twice the natural length of his feet, Fletcher
plays a clown or buffoon character, evicted from a bar for the umpteenth time. Despite
pleading and knocking, he cannot rouse his roommate Richard to let him inside.
He’s a proud, spectacular mess for yet another offstage character, the
meddlesome woman across the street. He climbs a ladder, adding that he’s “high
as a Georgia pine,” but ultimately, he and the ladder clatter to the stage
floor. The audience chuckles. Over and over, Fletcher appeals to his roommate:
“Open the Door, Richard!”
While white audiences may have fathomed
some of the humor, the gags may have been particularly relevant to the African
American experience, through their references to squalor and shortages. The
drunk is wearing the only suit shared
by the two men, thus Richard must be at
home. The duo owe so much back rent that the landlady has asked for it over and
over again, but the drunk insists—never mind the back rent—she ain’t gonna get any front rent. Fletcher draws from the “dozens,” playground games, and
other oral tradition.
What was Richard doing, in there? Perhaps Richard had
been in a deep slumber, or perhaps he’d been entertaining a lady friend, but
either way, great power rests in his classical status as an unseen character.
In never speaking, in never appearing to unbolt the door, Richard’s absence
forces the monologue to keep unfolding, so long as the jokes continue to elicit
laughter.
enter jack mcvea
We like Jack McVea
because he played baritone sax on Lionel Hampton’s visionary jump tune “Flying
Home” in 1942, but also because Slim Gaillard dubbed him “McVoutie” during a
recording session with Charlie Parker. We enjoy saying McVoutie. (For this
reason, we like Slim Gaillard, too.) McVea knew the “Richard” skit quite well
as he often shared the stage with Dusty Fletcher, during tours. He affixed music
to Fletcher’s routine and began performing the song “Open the Door, Richard!”
as leader of his own band in the mid-1940s. During a 1946 recording session for
Black & White Records, the producer suggested that the group record the
song.
In this version,
McVoutie and his bandmates had been out “having a ball” but Richard went home
early, carrying with him the only key to their place. Thus, McVea preserves the
comedy skit’s tradition of highlighting shortages; namely, there is only one
key to go around, and apparently, several bandmates are living together in tight
quarters. The bandmates can hear Richard breathing in there, so why can’t he
come to the door? They knock again and again: “Open the Door, Richard / Open
the door and let me in.”
Officially, Jack McVea & His All Stars recorded “Open
the Door, Richard!” in Los Angeles. The September, 1946 session likely included
Tommy “The Crow” Kahn (piano), Gene Phillips (guitar), Frank Clarke (bass), and
Rabon Tarrant (drums). The lead vocal is handled by Jack McVea, with assistance
from Rabon Tarrant and Joe “Red” Kelly. Writing credit goes to McVea and
bassist Clarke. It was bundled with “Lonesome Blues” on the B-side, a competent
lament with fine ensemble playing and strong hollering by drummer Tarrant.
Billboard
reviewed the release in October 1946, writing that, “[The] tale of the
locked-out drunk is altered for waxing purposes, deleting all reference to
liquor.” The reviewer insists that, unlike the comedic versions, McVea doesn’t
portray a “pie-eyed” (drunk) character, but that he’s simply late in returning
home. “[The] Rhythm section sustains the moderate but contagious beat.” And
that might’ve been it. Yes, McVea and his bandmates wore sombreros onstage, but
otherwise, there wasn’t too much action in 1946, to propel the song upward.
Little could predict the “Richard” phenomenon that would ensue.
The song was recorded by royalty.
1947 Just scant weeks into the new year, in early February,
McVea’s version rose to No. 2 on the R&B chart, and No. 3 on the pop chart.
Noting the sensation, other musicians rushed into the studio to record versions
of the song. In the weeks to follow, six different versions rose into the
R&B top 10, almost simultaneously. These would include discs by the great
Louis Jordan as well as Dusty Fletcher (one of the original skit comics).
Versions by the great Count Basie and The Three Flames would both reach No. 1
on the pop chart.
As big money entered the equation, a lawsuit arose over
royalties. After
the lawsuit, recordings generally had to credit Dusty Fletcher, John Mason,
and Jack McVea, not to mention a fictitious character, Dan Howell, with
“Howell” likely being a lavishly-rewarded stand-in for Decca owner Dave Kapp.
Perhaps it was better to be fictitious, in the end. McVea claimed to have
received less than $4,000 in royalties, over the course of his career.
Doo-wop, hillbilly, calypso, French, Spanish, Swedish,
Hungarian, and Yiddish versions emerged. Jimmy Durante, Bing Crosby, Jack Benny,
and Burl Ives either took an interest in “Open the Door, Richard!” or recorded
the song themselves. In his 1947 recording, Louis Jordan famously quipped: “I
know I ain’t common, cause I’ve got class I ain’t never used yet!” All attempts
at answer songs flopped. Understandably saturated, Radio stations began to ban
the originals!
The song was recorded by a Nobel laureate.
legacy In time, “Open the Door, Richard!”
became an African American catchphrase, referenced
during the Civil Rights Movement. It became emblematic of doors—to equal
opportunity and increased representation—that were closed to Blacks. Segregation
would not end, as well, until the door opened.
Bob Dylan recorded “Open the Door,
Homer” in 1975 as homage to the song; his deviation in title might’ve recalled
Dusty Fletcher, who apparently experimented with different names, including
Homer, until he settled on the crowd-pleasing Richard. Despite the intrusion of
Homer in his title, Dylan sings about Richard, throughout the song.
A few years earlier, poet Allen
Ginsberg referred to the song in his poem, “Elegy for Neal Cassady.” In a 1987
interview about his musical roots, he revealed that he “…was following the
development of rhythm & blues, stuff like “Open The Door, Richard” – [Allen
begins singing] – ‘Open the door, Richard / Open the door and let me in’ – You
know that one? – To me, it was some sort of apocalyptic opening of the gates of
heaven!”
...And the song influenced rabbits.
high-diving hare
Imagine that you are the
gun-blazing outlaw, Yosemite Sam. You’ve paid good money to see the show, and dadgummit—pistols popping off
overhead—you’re going to see the show! Yet when a slippery emcee, Bugs Bunny,
attempts to cancel the show, a series of aggressions must ensue. This is an old
west show about—high diving? Yes, high diving. So you charge up the long, long
ladder—pistols popping off overhead—only to be sidestepped by the foxy bunny
over and over. Down you fall, into the little barrel of water, over and over.
Once again, you charge up the
ladder and discover that Bugs has installed a locked door between you and him.
“Open up that door!” you shout. Behind it stands Bugs Bunny, on the end of the
diving platform. But before you charge into the door, you turn aside, to the
audience, and kindly reassure them: “You notice I didn’t say Richard?” Well,
you get up a head of steam and charge the door, only for Bugs to hold it open.
There you are, scratching for a handhold, in mid-air, when Bugs hands you an
anvil. Down you go, while that rabbit munches a juicy carrot.
Don’t even get me started on Henery Hawk.
sources of information
500 Songs podcast, Episode
10
on “Double Crossin’ Blues” (Johnny Otis) 500 Songs podcast, Episode
46
on “Brown-Eyed Handsome Man” (Chuck Berry) The Billboard, issue for
October 12, 1946 Black Grooves review of Open the Door, Richard! – The Story of a
Showbiz Phenomenon Cinema 4 Cel Block article
on “High Diving Hare” Jim Dawson, “Richard Opened Doors,” article in L.A. Times Discogs entry
for “Open the Door, Richard!” by Jack McVea Dreamtime Podcast article on “Open
the Door, Richard!” Bob Dylan Haiku article
on “Open the Door, Richard” (or “Homer”) Dusty
Fletcher film “Open
the Door, Richard” comedy routine 1945 Allen Ginsberg poem
“Elegy for Neal Cassady” in The Paris
Review, 1972 Allen Ginsberg Project article on
Ginberg’s musical influences, 1987 Marv Goldberg’s R&B Notebooks, article on “Open
the Door, Richard!” Jazz Archaeology discography for
Jack McVea Stephen Koch, “Arkansongs – It’s Another Song of Arkansas:
‘Open the Door, Richard,’” article in
Arkansas Daily Record Looney Tunes cartoon “Crowing
Pains,” featuring Henery Hawk & Foghorn Leghorn (1947) Looney Tunes cartoon “High-Diving
Hare,” featuring Bugs Bunny & Yosemite Sam (1949) RJ Smith chapter “Richard Speaks: Chasing a Tune from the Chitlin Circuit to the Mormon Tabernacle,” which appeared in This Is Pop: In Search of the Elusive
at Experience Music Project Vaudeville old & new: an
encyclopedia of variety performances in America,
entry for Dusty Fletcher Paul Watts liner notes for Open
the Door, Richard! – The Story of a Showbiz Phenomenon Joel Whitburn’s Top
R&B Singles, 1942-1988 Wikipedia article for “Open
the Door, Richard”
We believe—very strongly—that Link
Wray should be inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame. Not only that, but
his band, The Raymen, should be granted admissions as well. Two-thirds of the
Raymen are Wray men, plus a bass player named “Shorty,” plus an occasional
saxophonist named “Switchy,” plus an occasional pianist named “Unknown.” When
we consider that noodle-y groups like ABBA, the Bee Gees, and ELO have been
enshrined in that there Hall, but not Link Wray, we want to don the hairshirt,
wave the censer, kindle the frankincense, and self-flagellate our bosoms (in
the biblical sense). In short, we want to complain.
but this post
isn’t entirely about fred lincoln “link” wray jr.
This here article also concerns
Link’s older brother, Vernon Wray, who has a few alternative (“aka”) monikers
of his own: Lucky Wray, owing to gambling prowess, and Ray Vernon: his given
name, inverted and deducting a “W,” thereby achieving a stage name. To wit, as
Ray Vernon, Vernon Wray recorded a fair amount of his own—on labels like Cameo,
Liberty, and Mala—before he switched to managing and producing roles. He
founded Rumble Records, which was named after Link Wray’s iconic hit, a song
that altered the trajectory of rock music. The Wrays hailed from a humble
background and were part Shawnee Indian.
what we know and
what we don’t know about bunker hill
Vernon Wray seems to have been the
bloke who convinced a man named David Walker, a gospel singer with the Mighty
Clouds of Joy, to record a few R&B numbers as “Bunker Hill.” Why “Bunker
Hill?” We don’t know. Maybe Mr. Walker was fond of the famous battle in
Massachusetts. He didn’t record as David Walker, since he didn’t want the
Mighty Clouds of Joy to discover this little treachery, but discover they did,
after “Hide and Go Seek, Part 1” climbed both the R&B and Hot 100 charts in
1962. The Mighty fired him, leaving relatively little Joy in Cloudsville. What
happened to Mr. Walker after that? We don’t know. But those R&B records
were indeed hot, and the band that
backed him was no other than the Raymen, probably including Link. The drummer
on those records is none other than Doug Wray, the youngest of the three Wray
brothers, and anyone can tell just how much he’s thumping those drums within an
inch of their lives.
Link (L) and Lucky (R)
roughshod
Ray Vernon recorded “Roughshod” in
1959 or 1960. It was bundled with “Vendetta” on the B-side, and released in
1960, as Scottie 1320. The likely personnel include: Link Wray (lead guitar); Vernon Wray aka Ray Vernon (rhythm guitar); Brantley
Moses “Shorty” Horton (bass); Doug Wray (drums); “Switchy” (saxophone); piano
player and other musicians, if any, unknown. Vocals likely attributed to Vernon
Wray.
Big John Greer blew some ferocious jump saxophone, and in
some small way, contributed toward the thumping ruckus that both hurtled
toward—and was itself—rock ‘n’ roll. If you believe that Roy Brown cut the
first rock record, or Jackie Brenston, or Chuck Berry, very well then; Mr.
Greer honked his tenor sax throughout the stretch (roughly 1947-1956) when
those gentlemen changed American music forever. Big John backed hit-makers as a
sideman and recorded as a leader. He sang, too; above average.
Today, we’re celebrating John Greer’s only hit as a leader:
not a bar-walker but a ballad that will compel us to long for someone we dearly
miss. The large ensemble—the Rhythm Rockers—demonstrates a tight, occasionally ironic
affection for the content. The pain in the song, though, is real, and in fact,
a bit bright. And isn’t that truest, sometimes, the brightness of emotional torment?
Officially, “Got You On My Mind” was recorded in 1951 by
John Greer and His Rhythm Rockers, and was released in 1952 on RCA Victor, bundled with “Woman Is A Five Letter Word.”
As to the B-side, its tongue-in-cheek lyrics accompany a medium cooker with
dance floor potential. While the B-side failed to chart, the A-side magnificently
did the opposite. It rose to #2 on the Billboard R&B chart in 1952, and charted
in various positions for 22 weeks. The song was penned by Howard Biggs and saxophonist
Joe Thomas.
The likely personnel for this New York session included: John
Greer (tenor saxophone and vocal), Red Solomon (trumpet), George James (alto
saxophone), Joe Thomas (tenor saxophone), Stan Webb (baritone saxophone), Bill
Doggett (piano), James Cannady (guitar), Sid Block (bass), and Jimmy Crawford
(drums).
[For those of you audiophiles out there, you’ll know that “Craw
beats on them drums / In the band / In
the band!” But I digress.]
Greer’s big professional break came when he joined the Lucky
Millinder Orchestra in 1948, replacing Bull Moose Jackson, who’d left the group
to pursue his solo career. In replacing Jackson, Greer did so in a
tenor-for-tenor, voice-for-voice switch. Thus, he blew whopping jumps on numbers
like “Clap Your Hands” and sang with bouncy mischief on steaming tunes like “Let
It Roll Again.” He backed Bull Moose Jackson on pieces like “Nosey Joe” as well
as the blues shouter Wynonie Harris on “Bloodshot Eyes,” among other hits. He
was often teamed with such female vocalist partners as Annisteen Allen and
Dolores Brown.
Big John’s career began to wane in the late 1950s, after
recording songs like “Come Back Uncle John,” a worthy rocker that appeared on
the King label. By all accounts, the dip in his fortunes owed to his struggle
with alcoholism. He retreated to Hot Springs, Arkansas, the town of his birth, where
he gigged with local musicians, until he eventually faded from sight. And here’s
where it gets sorrowful. John Greer passed away in 1972, at 48 years of age,
largely forgotten.
I’d like to think that, collectively, Dear Reader, we’ve got
Big John Greer on our minds, and certainly, Dear Reader, I’ve got you on my mind. I’m wondering why you had to go. . . .
other songs worth a listen
John Greer & His Quintet “Rockin’ With Big John” (1948) Lucky Millinder Orchestra “Clap Your Hands” (1950) Big John
Greer tenor sax Lucky Millinder Orchestra “Let It Roll Again” (1950) Big
John Greer vocal Wynonie Harris “Mr. Blues Is Coming To Town” (1950) Big John
Greer tenor sax Wynonie Harris “Bloodshot Eyes” (1951) Big John Greer tenor
sax Bull Moose Jackson “Nosey Joe” (1952) Big John Greer tenor
sax Big John Greer “Bottle It Up And Go” (1954) Big John Greer “Come Back Uncle John” (1956)
sources of information
45cat page
for “Got You on My Mind” All Music Guide to the Blues, entry
for Big John Greer Be Bop Wino page
for John Greer R&B in New York City Black Cat Netherlands entry for John
Greer Discogs page
for “Got You on My Mind” Rate Your Music page
for “Got You on My Mind” Wikipedia page for Big John Greer
a rheumatologist of one’s own I was reading The House of Mirth, Wind & Fire when I spontaneously combusted. At the same time, two hair-metal bands joined together — Ratt Poison — in the Palmolive Garden behind the Julius Caesar Salad Days Inn. Go read that article in which Virginia Woolf refused to have A Rheumatologist of One’s Own, because his name was Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde the Baloney.
bernie could still be joe’s pick for vice president I want to rent a safe sex movie, but I can’t decide between Under Extreme Emotional Durex and The Silence of the Lambskins. On the way
out of the video store, I pass the Jheri Curling Team. Yep, they’re headed to
the ice rink, with the stones, the brooms, and the activator. Bernie could
still be Joe’s pick for Vice President, if only he’d change his preferred
pronoun, quickly!
and now a poem
Cardi B Cardi BBQ Cardi BBQ & A Cardi BBQ & A E I O U Cardi BBQ & A E I O U-Haul. J Lo & B-hold!
deus ex big machina
“You-Rippa-Deez?” is an olfactory accusation, not the name of
a classical Greek tragedian, and in any event, Euripedes didn’t write the
bigotry drama Seven Against Hebes. I
don’t like how Greek plays depend purely upon chance to resolve their funereal
plots. For example, all of their characters are just trudging along, starving
to death, when out of nowhere, they spot the golden arches of McDonalds. Deus
Ex Big Machina is the name of that literary device.
trojan horse
Yes, I know how the Achaeans won
the Pubic Wars, but we’re talking about how a smuggler brings heroin in a
condom through a security checkpoint. Shouldn’t it be called Trojan Mule?
“Uh Huh” is a protest song, during a protest
year, during a baffling era.
The lead instrumentation—John Paul Carillo’s bass
and guitar; Chris Olsen’s drums and percussion—alternates between harrowing restraint
and thumping outcry. Anna Meadors plays the song’s dirge on her alto saxophone;
the song, then, absorbs the universal lamentations of people who’ve been deprived
of other people. When all four of us participate at once, including the howling
vocals, there is a variety of madness that we could call liberation, or
honesty. Listeners will be rewarded again and again by the virtuosity of the
musicians. The outro, in particular, estimates the emotional quandary of
marching forward, despite a societal environment that cannot remediate its own
destructiveness.
“Uh Huh” refers to brothers in the universal
sense: close and distant family, comrades, colleagues. We are protesting an
inexcusable societal blight like gun crimes, on the one hand, but many protests
can be echo-located in “Uh Huh.” (What’s your
protest?) In the lyrics, a gun is pointed at an unarmed person. This
fundamental inequality can transfer from one situation to another. You’re powerless
at a crucial moment, you fear for your life, you lack a basic resource. You
struggle to envision a future, uh huh.
The artists who created the video—Gabriela
Bulisova and Mark Isaac—have stamped their narrative on the song. By turns
eerie, disturbing, and deeply righteous, the video commences with the thermal
imagery of headless bodies trudging toward a blank destination, at an orderly
pace, their backs to the viewer. Without being told, we know that many of them
are doomed. There is a gun-scope encircling a partial portrait, and an
incongruous flag unfurling, and a litter of human shapes strewn upon a stained ecosystem
that’s struggling, itself, to persevere.
“De voi
depinde,” said the poet Paul Celan: “It’s up to you.” What he meant was: the
individual really matters. By design,
the band does not appear. Our faces don’t outweigh the importance of the protest.
What will our brothers be singing?What will our, what will our brothers be
singing? If we deaden ourselves to loss, we’ll never challenge the status
quo.
Play this song loud. Expect punk-jazz. Topple
the establishment.
Joy on Fire is
John Paul Carillo (bass, guitar)
Anna Meadors (baritone and alto saxophones,
vocals)
Chris Olsen (drums, percussion)
Dan Gutstein (lyrics, vocals)
“Uh Huh” composed by Carillo / Gutstein / Joy
on Fire (2020)
Joy on Fire formed in Baltimore 12 years ago and is currently headquartered in Trenton, N.J. Featured last year on NPR's All Songs Considered, the band is scheduled to play a Tiny Desk Concert in July. Its most recent release is the Thunderdome EP, which features "Uh Huh," and is available on vinyl only at the Joy on Fire website. Maryland label Procrastination Records will release the band's next full length album, Hymn, in June. States of America, the band's first full length album with vocals, and which will also include "Uh Huh," is currently being mixed with release plans to be decided.
1 and 2. The fox and I have bridged
the vulpine-person divide and become friends. However, she is feeding her cubs
these days and has little time to shoot the baloney. Here, she is pictured
galloping toward the den with unlucky prey (a squirrel?) in her mouth.
3. Beard / Beered. That would be, of course, a stout.
4. I made a mask! (Out of an old
t-shirt.)
5. My parents, Ruth and Marty, getting married, 60
years ago. I am “embedded” with them, in order to help them survive the
pandemic.
6. My parents today, sharing a nice
moment at the kitchen table, having been married for 60 years. Many more happy
returns to them!
The days ahead: Soon, there will be
a video release by Joy on Fire, the band I collaborate with, and eventually I hope to “re-launch”
my latest book release, which got swallowed up by the early days of the nationwide
lockdown. Thanks for visiting this blog—I hope that you and your loved ones are
safe and healthy. —Dan
Behold, the vixen assembles herself for devotion.
Yes, we believe this fine creature to be a female of the species. Our
relationship started this way. She presents herself and I devote myself to her
presentation. She’s in no hurry to be foxy; she’s quite foxy as it is. She
encounters tens of twenties of twos of persons, while I typically encounter but
one vulpine soul. Yes, we are socially distancing ourselves properly in the
Coronavirus era, but we always begin with this moment of recognition on the
grassy, grassy lea.
aloofness
In this stage of the vixen-human devotional, the
fox asserts her aloofness. A person could outfox another person, a fox could
outfox a person, a fox could outfox another fox, but a person will never outfox
a fox, how could he? He is not the fox. She is the fox, and she is, oh yes,
fundamentally aloof. She knows the damage that a pelt-monger could cause, and
she won’t become fodder for a pre-barbaric line in a Tennessee Williams play. [In
Brando nasal voice:] “Where are your fox-pieces, Stella?” Lo, she will
endure.
the chase is on
The fox is low to the ground. Why does this
matter? Because there are roots and limbs, god dammit, there are creeks and
banks. Have I taken a tumble? Yes, I have tumbled into the freaking creek! Would
you believe me if I said that the fox waited for me? A fellow can grow quite
emotional in such a moment. Sitting there, in the chilly muck, wondering just
what in the Jiminy Cricket he is doing with his life, but there sitteth the
vixen, beautiful and vigilant. Would you believe me if I said that we ran
through the foxgloves together? Well, you shouldn’t. I have no idea what
foxgloves look like. But we have run together side by side, the fox and I.
coda There may be more foxes before long. I know this
because I’ve seen a second fox: le renard. He looked as if he
were wearing silk pajamas, and he is, and he deserves every single bit of that
glorious feeling, the lucky guy.
I am with my parents, both of whom are in their eighties. Every
morning we hold a mandatory Staff Meeting (pictured above) in the kitchen. We
discuss our approach to the day. Mostly, we discuss the ways in which we irritate
each other. Truth be told, as Chief of Staff, these meetings are dominated by
me describing the many ways that my parents extensively aggravate me. After
that, we move on to provisions. I am sent once a week to a local greengrocer,
and since I get to—since I’m now encouraged to—wear a blue bandanna around my
face, I’m eager to go. I pay my bill, thus I’m hardly a robber; I just look
like one. After provisions, we address cleanliness. We agreed to give the
twice-monthly cleaning woman a paid leave, which is nice of my parents, except
that I have to do all the cleaning! (We live in a medium-sized apartment.) But
in lockdown / quarantine, the thing is: chores are good, they organize the day.
I’ve also developed cultural awakening routine that I’m emplacing for at least
a month, and probably longer. Here are my details, quips, activities, discoveries,
notes, suggestions, et cetera, in digest form. Enjoy.
ULTIMATE GOAL
To get my parents through this crisis, healthy. The elderly
have a lot to teach us. In no way should they—ever—be sacrificed in the name of Wall Street.
HIGHBROW & POP CULTURE
Current books: I am finishing the second half of W.
Somerset Maugham’s collected stories, and the selected stories of Lucia Berlin.
Both reads are enjoyable: one is swashbuckling, the other is
comedy-amid-tragedy or vice versa.
International Netflix mega-series: Babylon Berlin (lotsa Berlin!) has been
the best. Even as it’s more “fantastic” than Peaky Blinders, it’s more believable, and the performance scenes,
in particular, are astonishing. Interestingly, the two series are linked by the
PTSD symptoms of the main characters, who suffered through mental anguish in
World War I. When English rock band The Fall asks “Who Makes the Nazis?” in
their album Hex Enduction Hour, well,
Babylon Berlin appears to be
answering that question.
Domestic mega-series: Better Call Saul. This character-driven series is better—by far—than
its leaky predecessor, Breaking Bad. It’s
not even debatable.
New rock ‘n’ roll discovery: My friend Casey Smith
brought Girl Band, from Dublin, Ireland, to our attention. They’re in the same
league as Sleaford Mods, who will be appearing, hopefully, October 1st, in D.C.
Last ten jazz albums: Louis Armstrong, The Great Chicago Concert; Albert Ayler
Quartet, The Hilversum Session; Art
Blakey & the Jazz Messengers, Meet
You at the Jazz Corner of the World, Vol.
1; Anthony Braxton, News from the 70s;
John Coltrane, Giant Steps; Miles
Davis, Milestones; Walter Davis Jr., Davis Cup; Booker Ervin, The Freedom Book; Charles Earland, Black Talk; Curtis Fuller, Blues-ette.
EXERCISE
Average daily running distance: 5.25 miles.
YouTube abs workout: The tatted guy at “officialthenx.”
That workout is brutal, and I resent the tatted guy every day of my life.
YouTube pushups workout: Mike Rashid’s warrior
pushups.
Physical exercise summary: Running, cycling, upper
body, and H.I.I.T., two to three hours daily.
Animals I’ve seen while exercising: I’ve developed a cozy relationship with a foxy fox. Otherwise, there has been an increase in
raptors: eagles, owls, and hawks. I see dozens of deer each day. I never see
the white breasted nuthatch, but I hear it laughing at me, all the time.
Crossword puzzle: New
York Times (available online via Arkansas
Democrat Gazette.)
My Duolingo language: Francais.
Also: Could we get one sport to come back, with disease-free
players housed in isolation, and games played in empty arenas / stadiums? Prem?
Baseball? Shinny? The boost from that would be exponential.
DIET, SHOPPING, &
SUNDRY ACTIVITIES
Diet: Vegetarian (I’ve earned my three year pin!)
Thus far, it has been easy to keep this diet, except for the douchebags who are
hoarding cans of black beans as if they were toilet paper. May your hoarding of
the former lead you to require even more of the latter!
Great new recipe: Sweet potato vegetarian chili.
Beers on hand: Porters and Stouts. My friend Sausages
also gave me a bottle (to be opened soon) of Laphroaig 10 year. I haven’t been
drinking much, though. It’s hard to do this all alone. If you want to have a
drink—or a coffee—let’s make a virtual date!
T.P. situation: Average. If there’s a gentle increase
in pooping, we’ll still be all right.
Shopping strategy: I wear gloves and bandanna mask. I
hand sanitize afterwards and wash my hands before unpacking anything. We place
perishables in the fridge. (They are washed in cold water before use.) (We may
switch to washing in advance.) Everything else is quarantined for three days in
a side area, to allow for any surfaces to straighten out. I wash my hands
again.
DEEP THOUGHT / LIFE
CHANGES
Like many people, I have been examining my life closely. When
this crisis ends, and it will end, despite the criminal mishandling of it by
the already-impeached White House “leader,” I am going to make significant changes
in my life. I will be talking to some of you, Dear Readers, about these changes
when the time comes. Likewise, if you have anything monumental to relate in my
direction, I’m here. I’ll be here for the foreseeable future. Mostly, be safe
and stay healthy. May your loved ones be healthy, too.
QUIP
There should be a movie entitled Quaranteen Wolf, starring Quarantina Turner, directed by Quentin
Quarantino.
Written by a member of the Kinks and performed by half of
Led Zeppelin, the little-known 1964 Freakbeat rocker “One Fine Day” does not
disappoint. You may listen to it above, Dear Reader, via the good wonders of
the internet. Play it loud and dance with abandon. The singer, Shel Naylor from
Coventry, is really named Rob Woodward, a bloke who went on to do some unusual
things with Stavely Makepeace and Lieutenant Pigeon. That he also played the
ukulele and clarinet—in addition to piano and guitar—should’ve offered a clue
as to his future eccentricity, but I get ahead of myself.
The Kink in question is guitarist Dave Davies, and the
members of Led Zeppelin in question are Jimmy Page (guitar) and John Paul Jones
(bass). Led Zeppelin wouldn’t materialize for a few more years, of course, but
the Kinks would become an international sensation the very same year with “You Really
Got Me” among other tunes. 1964 could’ve been worse, musically. David Bowie
recorded his first single, “Liza Jane,” and Jimi Hendrix made his first recordings
with the Isley Brothers. Also, a fellow named Rob Woodward cut two songs as
Shel Naylor for Decca: “One Fine Day” b/w “It’s Gonna Happen Soon.” The drummer
was thought to be the legendary Bobby Graham. Presumably, Messieurs Page,
Jones, and Graham were the backing vocalists. Outside, it was London, everywhere
you looked.
The Kinks might’ve recorded the song themselves, but
instead, Davies gave it to Naylor, a teenager at the time. Noting the influence
of The Ventures, an American group famous for its instrumental hit “Walk, Don’t
Run,” Davies relied on a Ventures-like chord structure in banging out “One Fine
Day” for Naylor on the piano; this, in the office of Davies’ manager.
Apparently, the Kinks made a demo, but only so Naylor could understand the
song. Given the benefit of—more than 50 years of—hindsight, I do believe that
one can hear The Ventures, The Kinks, and Led Zeppelin in “One Fine Day.” (I
also hear “Lonely Traveler” by Jimmy Lee Robinson, but that’s some archaeology
for another post.)
As for the song’s narrative situation, we can tell that the
singer’s “baby” ain’t around, at present. She will, however, come back home “whoa yeahhh one fine day,” according to
Naylor. She seems to have instigated the separation. He still loves her,
apparently. You can interrogate his value system, or not, Dear Reader, but
knowing London weather, he might be waiting for a while. In the meantime
(thankfully!) everyone contented himself to strenuously rock out, in the
postmodern tradition.
Shel Naylor, the music act, didn’t prosper, and Woodward
abandoned the career of his alter ego in favor of vastly different projects: first,
Stavely Makepeace, and later, Lieutenant Pigeon, which produced a 1973 chart-topping
UK hit with “Mouldy Old Dough.” The Stavely Makepeace material is collected in
a 2004 compilation album, The Scrap Iron
Rhythm Revue, which features a few interesting songs, including “Slippery
Rock ‘70s.” Critic Richie Unterberger describes the Lieutenant Pigeon sound as,
in part, “…martial percussion, century-old sounding parlor music, and weird
insertions of fifes, rickety pianos, and half-buried miscellaneous vocal
growls.” In addition to “Mouldy Old Dough,” devotees of Lieutenant Pigeon cite
“I’ll Take You Home Again Kathleen” and “Desperate Dan” as worthy listens. In
every song that there’s a piano, it’s Woodward’s mother on the ebonies and
ivories.
Thus, the chord progressions of a successful American
instrumental band (The Ventures) were channeled by a member of an arriving
British megaband (Dave Davies of The Kinks) to produce a song (“One Fine Day”)
for an unknown Coventry teenager (Shel Naylor / Rob Woodward), who’d go on to
produce hits as part of two eccentric British groups (Stavely Makepeace and
Lieutenant Pigeon), but not before two future members of, arguably, the
greatest hard rock / heavy metal band ever assembled (Jimmy Page and John Paul
Jones of Led Zeppelin) would back Naylor / Woodward—by “back” we mean “blarst
forth!”—on his Decca A-side, “One Fine Day.” Whew. You get the idea. In short:
“One Fine Day” rocks. Enjoy, enjoy, hoy hoy!!!
Check out the trailer for my new
novel, Buildings Without Murders,
published by Atmosphere Press on March 1, 2020. Visit my brand-new website or the Atmosphere
website for more information and purchasing options (paperback and e-book).
In my base-town of Washington, D.C., Buildings
Without Murders is available at Politics and Prose on
Connecticut Avenue. The video is by multimedia artists Gabriela Bulisova and
Mark Isaac; visit their website
for more information on their projects. Finally, consider following my Instagram page,
where I’m just getting started. I’ll follow you, if you follow me. Thanks for
taking a look!
The video is captions-enabled,
or here’s the excerpt from the book that’s read aloud in the trailer: “LaRousse’s smartphone buzzed. It
registered the presence of several GPS pins orbiting her own signal, a
collection of competent kissers, street kids, philanthropists, and rough-house
run-rioters demonstrating recalcitrant intentions. Half her body shivered in a
downdraft. She traced the origins of this chilly whirlybird by sizing up the
architecture of the tallest crane, from anchor to tower head, until she espied
the very phenomenon that the News Update had reported for the past several
broadcasts, up high, adrift above everyday birds and skyscrapers. A single,
available cloud bank blundered between the forces of opposing currents, the
defiant and the stoic, its magenta-white lightning bolt fizzling in a brisk
state of perpetual discharge. The cloud hauled a stroke of incomplete,
ornamental lightning.”
Bernie Sanders represents more individual donors than
any other candidate. (Photo: Rebecca Cook / Reuters)
You go about your day and you encounter some Democrats who insist,
“I’m for Biden, because he’s electable,” but when you convince these good souls
to cut that out, to forget the “electable routine” for just one minute, and instead,
credit the candidate closest to their value set, these good souls will
invariably say—about nine times out of ten—Bernie Sanders. We’ll get to Bernie’s
electability in a minute. Hold the line, please.
I don’t happen to dislike Joe Biden as vehemently as some hardcore
liberals do. On paper, he presents remarkable credentials: Vice President for
eight years, Senator forever, working class advocate, et cetera. He likes Amtrak.
I like the train, too. Apparently, Trump fears Biden the most, or so we’d imagine,
owing to the entire impeachment thing—maybe you’ve heard of this?— that’s been predictably
stubbed-out by Senate Republicans.
Yet Biden can be maddeningly error-prone. He seems to be
running—as Hillary Clinton twice did—because he wants to be president, rather than because he can communicate a
compelling vision for his presidency.
In any event, the mainstream media has been searching for a younger, less baffling
version of “Sleepy Joe.” They have tried to champion Pete Buttigieg and Amy “Comb-uchar”
but it’s hard to know what either of those two candidates really stands for, aside from the DNC talking points.
Noting that the Democratic electorate is of two minds—OMFG
if the party should actually nominate a genuine liberal—the mainstream media has
also been searching for an alternative to Bernie Sanders: left, but not left-wing.
Some outlets have championed Elizabeth Warren. Maybe it’s just me, but every
time I look at footage of Warren, I feel as if I’m about to get a C+ on my term
paper. It perpetually appears like she’s detecting a sour odor, which does
conjure the teaching corps in higher education (her former metier.) I know, I know, she has a plan for that sour odor.
Bernie’s in his upper seventies. He’s suffered a
well-publicized heart attack. He represents a state that will likely vote for
the Democrat no matter who leads the ticket. Some people call him “socialist”
and / or “communist.” All of these fabulous highlights might have disqualified
him during another election cycle, but we here at Blood And Gutstein note that
Bernie’s the only Democratic candidate who’s been broadening the tent, via the
trademark small donations, since 2016. In particular, young people hoot &
holler for him. And if you can say one thing about Donald Trump’s ascendancy,
it’s canceled any conventional wisdom about who might run and who can win.
AOC’s endorsement underscores the sentiments
of young
voters. (Photo: J Pat Carter / Getty)
It’s also clear to us that Bernie isn’t just spinning yarns
because they might “play well” among voters. He’s been advocating many of the
same policies now for decades, and his pledge to drive-out big money from
American politics is the single most identifiable policy among all candidates
for the Democratic nomination. His vision is clear and courageous. We also
admire his zeal in campaigning with Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, who is one of the
most dynamic politicians in the world.
The Republican presidential nominees often succeed in
positioning themselves as “tough guys” (even as many of the same “tough guys” deftly
evaded military duty when called upon to serve) and toughness does resonate
among voters in November. Should Bernie win the Democratic nomination, he’ll
have to project toughness, not only in standing up to the forthcoming negative
barrages from the right, but in leading during an era of unprecedented global challenges.
Before that, however, it’s voters like you and me who must demonstrate toughness, by
making the correct choice—Bernie—in 2020.
