SUPERMANIFESTO 2025.

This Supermanifesto begins painfully. My father Marty passed away in May, three months shy of his 92^nd birthday. He had been grappling with a “mystery illness” that taxed his breathing and strength. As a live-in caregiver, I witnessed his entire struggle firsthand. An inherently selfish part of me wants to share some difficult imagery with you and wants you to throw your arm around me, but I will spare you that imagery, even if you still might throw your arm around me.

Often I turn to aggressive music, punk or similar, when something outrageous has taken place, but I find myself taken with “Leaving Eden,” a 2012 ballad by the Carolina Chocolate Drops. Before they disbanded about 10 years ago, the Chocolate Drops reinvigorated many decades of traditional African American music. Too, Dom Flemons (playing guitar) is a friend of the ongoing “Liza Jane” documentary film project. 

A final word on my book Poor Gal, which chronicles the “Liza Jane” family of songs. It came out amidst my father’s illness, and at the time, I could not participate in any author events. Thus, I feel especially lucky for a couple of great 2024 reviews in the USA Today network and Washington City Paper, as well as a highly enjoyable interview at Bluegrass Jam Along by UK podcaster Matt Hutchinson. Huxley & Hiro Bookstore hosted the first book release event (about a year after Poor Gal appeared) at The Queen in Wilmington, Del., and I was really surprised when, this past October, Poor Gal received a “Special Recognition Award” from the ASCAP Foundation in its 55^th annual Deems Taylor / Virgil Thomson Book Awards. Many thanks to all (inter)(re)viewers and readers alike. 

My friend Casey Smith (“yjb”) printed this four-word poem when we hung out a couple months ago. It is a fabulous little broadside and Casey hails from a righteous people. Shall we pen some strophes in 2025? Well, well, well, yes we shall.

Photo Credit: Sausages (Mike Zito)

Up that alley, I will be back at the microphone with the improvisational collective Fanoplane, which will play Comet Ping Pong in Washington, D.C. on February 8^th. This will be, I believe, a “release event” for a CD of our live performance at the Black Cat, which went kablooey well. I am also looking to get back at the microphone with a “rock combo” where “combo” equals “orchestra plus vocals.” Let it be so. In twenty aught twenty-five.

A fifteen-second video of my dad trying to say “burglars.” He was raised in a Bronx tenement and never pronounced “ers” as anything other than “iz.” For instance, “big fierce tigers” would become “big fierce tigiz.” (My mother says “burglars” correctly but she was raised in Brooklyn.) To boot, Marty implies that anyone can “send in the burgliz” as if you were ordering a pizza, just burgliz instead.

Out searching for my friend the fox – or her offspring (a bloke of the species who engaged in a cross-taxonomy fling with a Welsh corgi) – when suddenly there was an incident. A red-tailed hawk flew into my face! Its full wing stole me upside the jaw. I do not think it saw me, but how could it not see me, it did or did not see me, it wing-slapped me and then soared, alit, it alit in a treetop. It was up there all statuesque, all proud of its powerful aviation and slippery withdrawal, while I flubbered my sensibilities into “recently slapped.” The incident was feathery but not pillowy, the wing was momentarily blinding and surprisingly firm. For all I know, it may have been a friendly gesture. Either way, I persevered. (And snapped this pic of the offending raptor.)

This family – buck, doe, fawn – are my favorite deer. The other “hoofed ruminants” are, like, bounding here, bounding there. Whatevs. These are my peeps.

I hardly drink anymore (demi-baddie) so I hope you can tell this is a special occasion – in wishing you a Happy New Year! May you and your loved ones be healthy and joyful in the months ahead.

This has been a raking, searching Supermanifesto. Even as I can try to joke-away some of the pain, “the pain,” observed poet Robert Creeley, “is not unpainful.” Indeed. It will carry into 2025 but we must also carry love, and adventurousness, and brawn into the new year. For me, the new year will present numerous uncertainties. Questions like “where?” and “what on earth?” However it goes, I hope to see you then, my friends, and if so, we will jump and shake. It would not be a true Blood And Gutstein without a couple of “shakers” by rock ‘n’ roll and R&B combos. If you are a ‘night creature’ then you might be content with the estimable mayhem above. But if you require something more, I dunno, “hewing,” then I have got you covered with “Pass the Hatchet, Part 2” (below.) As always, we here at B.A.G. suggest that you corral your sweetie pie. Play these songs loud. Jump high. Shake those shoulders out with maximum esprit de corps & if you need to describe your experience, I am here for you.

Discography for The Gigolo’s (sic) and Roger & The Gypsies

The Gigolo’s. “Night Creature” B-side b/w “Swingin’ Saints” A-side. Daynite Gig-1 / Gig-2, Phoenix, Arizona, 1960. Likely personnel: Bob Taylor (drums); Don Cole (guitar); Buddy Wheeler (bass); and Zeke Zoeckler (saxophone); other musicians, if any, unknown. Compositional credit: Bob Taylor and (first name unknown) Knight.

Roger & The Gypsies. “Pass The Hatchet (Part 2)” B-side b/w “Pass The Hatchet (Part 1)” A-side. Seven B 7001. New Orleans (1966). Compositional credit: Earl Oropeza, Ray Theriot, and Roger Leon Jr. Likely personnel: Eddie Bo (vocals) with Earl Stanley & The Stereos. [Earl Stanley (lead guitar); Roger Leon Jr. (guitar); Skip Easterling (organ); Johnny Pennino (sax); Li’l Joe Lambert (drums); Nicky Bodine (bass); Art Sir Van (piano); and Hector Nieves (maracas). Any additional musicians unknown.]