Music
Music
Cover Me
Music is one of those things in life that can stir up a lot of emotional debate. First is, of course, arguments over which musical style–Hip Hop, Country, Jazz, etc.–is best. Then there are disagreements about the best songs an artist has recorded. And then there are covers of existing songs by other artists, particularly
Ornithology
People remember Charlie Parker Rode into Minton’s on a horse Dressed in overhauls Lip drooping a piece of straw. People remember Charlie Parker Hocking his alto for a fix Living just anywhere Raving out of control down a rainy street. People remember Charlie Parker Worked with the higher extensions Of the chords, worked with strange
Zimmerman’s Syndrome
I’d learned a lot of blues songs, quite a few famous and obscure standards from the 20s and 30s, some Irish tunes, a few old Burl Ives songs and others from the dread folk music revival years, a few Dylan tunes. (While I’d dug Dylan’s early lp’s, he was leaving me pretty lukewarm as
Muddy Waters–I Am the Blues
I am, I am the blues I am, oh I am the blues I know the world know I’ve been mistreated And the whole world know I’ve been misused I am the moan of suffering women I am the groan of dying men I am the last one to start But I am the first
Dead Musicians
The other day as I listened to songs on my iTunes playlist, I thought about how many of my favorite musicians are dead. Most of them died early, too. Jim Morrison, 27. Jimi Hendrix, 27. Karen Carpenter, 32. Keith Moon, 32. Bon Scott, 33. Lowell George, 34. A few others lasted a little longer. Harry
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Novels and Collected Works
Cover Me
Music is one of those things in life that can stir up a lot of emotional debate. First is, of course, arguments over which musical style–Hip Hop, Country, Jazz, etc.–is best. Then there are disagreements about the best songs an artist has recorded. And then there are covers of existing songs by other artists, particularly
Ornithology
People remember Charlie Parker Rode into Minton’s on a horse Dressed in overhauls Lip drooping a piece of straw. People remember Charlie Parker Hocking his alto for a fix Living just anywhere Raving out of control down a rainy street. People remember Charlie Parker Worked with the higher extensions Of the chords, worked with strange
Zimmerman’s Syndrome
I’d learned a lot of blues songs, quite a few famous and obscure standards from the 20s and 30s, some Irish tunes, a few old Burl Ives songs and others from the dread folk music revival years, a few Dylan tunes. (While I’d dug Dylan’s early lp’s, he was leaving me pretty lukewarm as
Muddy Waters–I Am the Blues
I am, I am the blues I am, oh I am the blues I know the world know I’ve been mistreated And the whole world know I’ve been misused I am the moan of suffering women I am the groan of dying men I am the last one to start But I am the first
Dead Musicians
The other day as I listened to songs on my iTunes playlist, I thought about how many of my favorite musicians are dead. Most of them died early, too. Jim Morrison, 27. Jimi Hendrix, 27. Karen Carpenter, 32. Keith Moon, 32. Bon Scott, 33. Lowell George, 34. A few others lasted a little longer. Harry