It’s another one of those sunny, beautiful days or whatever and I’m driving down a bit of winding mountainside interstate, which is generally quite fun because I like to race my beast of a Camry across down the curvy highway, weaving in and out of cars, all that jazz. It’s been a while since I’ve driven through mountains and I’m pretty pumped about this. So I crank up the Neil Diamond, whip out my faux-Wayfarers, and  put the pedal to the metal.

Everything is going great.  I even roll down the windows because it makes me feel like I’m driving faster. I mean, this is becoming a truly exhilarating drive. I’m whipping around this curve and all of a sudden I’m hit in the face with a major bummer. There’s a big-ass tractor trailer chugging it’s way down the mountain ahead of me. I know I have to pass the thing, but these situations always scare the shit out of me, knowing that Mac boy has the ability to easily smash my girly little Camry like a bug or some gum under a shoe on the sidewalk. (Actually, now that I think about it, the gum analogy is probably the best one because I can absolutely see myself–with a wrong turn of the wheel–becoming a permanent fixture of the underbelly of the truck.) I’ve got a real dilemma here, but I realize that I can’t just keep putting along at a measly 55 miles per hour behind this guy.  So I take a breath, push the pedal harder, and try to pass my travel-buddy as quickly as I can. I’m about half way around this monster, shrouded in the darkness of his infinite shadow, and I begin to notice him moving towards my lane. As you might imagine, as soon as his tires touch the white lines, I fucking lay on the horn, but this tank keeps on moving towards me.  Inch by inch by inch, he is absolutely in my lane at this point. This big truck is about to rape me and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.  I slam on the breaks, break my arm on the horn, and suddenly realize  I will become a barnacle on this truck’s hull in about 3.579 seconds.  I clamp my eyes shut and duck as low as I can, because I know that this will make hurt less. And then, fucking BLAMMO!

I get rear-ended by some motherfucker in a Hybrid Prius. The trucker rolls back into his own lane, putting along his merry way, while pissed-off and dirty-diapered old me is colliding into the concrete median.

What a fucking letdown of a drive.

12/12/89

Dear Journal,

Our glee club will have our concert soon.

Also, I feel very different around Mitch. As if I have to watch my every move. I feel uncomfortable but maybe I’m just feeling the tension before a date. Oh well, I hope the feeling goes away.

la la la la

One of my favorite things about elementary school was singing in the glee club. Mrs. Angelo was no ordinary music teacher. She had permed hair teased into a giant halo around her head and three-inch nails that miraculously did not impede her ability to accompany us on the piano. She was also inventive when determining the musical programs. One concert included a Neil Diamond medley, and to this day I have a soft spot for that crooner, from his immigration anthem “America” to his east coast/west coast struggle in “I Am I Said.”

Mrs. Angelo had us put on concerts for our entire school just for entertainment’s sake, like the showcase of Broadway tunes we did (I sang “Memory” from Cats solo). For the holiday concert, she even had an original Hanukkah song that she composed, “How Many Nights” (so catchy that I can still hum the chorus, decades later). She devised elaborate harmonies for us and made us rehearse often, but shared music with such enthusiasm and love, we didn’t mind.

Mitch was in glee club, too, so we were frequently in the same room together, though we didn’t speak. I guess we were saving up actual socializing for our date, and besides, we’d be scrutinized by our classmates if we talked to each other in front of them. As for the pre-date jitters, I think there was a part of me that worried Mike might find the reason to call off the date before it happened. To make sure that didn’t happen, I tried to keep my distance until then, and focused on singing instead.

yes, it’s almost time to roll out the Christmas Ipod mix. And while the infamous Neil Diamond Christmas album remains an iconic piece of holiday music fabulousity, another rock icon is trying to get a piece of the action. That’s right, Bob Dylan released an album this month full of Christmas spirit. While we haven’t heard all the tracks yet, this video single “Must Be Santa” is simply…. bizarre & amazing. You be the judge….

It was a great year for fine albums, though only one merits to be remembered as a stone cold classic. I’m sorry to omit a number of very good efforts released in 2005, such as those by Brandi Carlile, Iron & Wine, Damien Jurado, Death Cab for Cutie, Maria Taylor, Andrew Bird, Emilíana Torrini, John Frusciante, Colin Hay, Kathleen Edwards, Nicole Willis and the Soul Investigators, Kevin Devine, Eels, The Cardigans, John Prine, Kate Earl, Richard Thompson, Ryan Adams & the Cardinals, Blue Eyed Son, Sarah Bettens, Antony & the Johnsons, Beck, Tristan Prettyman, The Magic Numbers, Hot Hot Heat, Charlie Sexton …

* * *

Bright Eyes – I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning

On the same day as Conor Oberst and chums released their best album — and one of the decades finest — they also released what I think is their worst, Digital Ash In A Digital Turn. It was wise that they did not take the option of releasing these two entirely distinct albums — one alt.country, the other electronica — as a double album. I’m Wide Awake, which features Emmylou Harris on a couple of tracks, has Oberst in a restrained, though not necessarily tamed, form. The indisciplined excesses from previous albums have been ironed out, but not at the expense of that most essential Oberst quality: the feverish intensity. It certainly is the most consistent Bright Eyes album. Every song here is beautiful, especially First Day Of My Life and We Are Nowhere And It’s Now, on the latter of which Emmylou harmonises.

Lyrically, Oberst is in fine form: tender, resigned, confused, hopeful, angry. When he sings on At The Bottom Of Everything about capital punishment, he rightly hectors: “Into the face of every criminal strapped firmly to a chair, we must stare, we must stare, we must stare.” And on Old Soul Song, about an anti-war protest in New York, has some beautifully poetic lines: “We left before the dust had time to settle, and all the broken glass swept off the avenue. And on the way home held your camera like a bible, just wishing so bad that it held some kind of truth.”
Bright Eyes – Old Soul Song (For The New World Order).mp3
Bright Eyes – We Are Nowhere And It’s Now.mp3

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Richard Hawley – Coles Corner

From the moment the melancholy strings strike up on the album’s opener, the gorgeous title track (featured HERE), this album captivates the listener. A more even effort than 2003’s Lowedges, Hawley tries to capture a mood of 1950s balladeering, drawing from country, pop and rockabilly with a healthy dose of torchsong crooning. One can almost imagine Hotel Room being reworked as a doo wop song. The orchestration is lush, scoring Hawley’s warm baritone beautifully. Besides the title track and the countryish Just Like The Rain, the standout track here is The Ocean (not the most encouraging title, it must be said) which starts off quietly and slowly builds up to a dramatic crescendo. I’d gladly call Coles Corner Hawley’s masterpiece, but he has topped it with this year’s Truelove’s Gutter.
Richard Hawley – The Ocean.mp3

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Jens Lekman – Oh You’re So Silent, Jens

Jens Lekman featured with his debut album in the 2004 list; here he returns with a compilation of single and EP tracks — and Lekman has an extravagant catalogue of EPs, some of which he made available on his site for free downloading a while back. So it is suitable, and doubtless intentional, that the opening track would be called At the Dept. of Forgotten Songs. Lyrically and musically it’s all very quirky, but nowhere as much so as A Sweet Summer’s Night on Hammer Hill, a song that is at once funny and wistful (and which gets the release date of Warren G’s Regulate wrong and fails to credit Nate Dogg), recorded with probably not entirely sober pals who improvise the backing vocals and at the end shout out requests (the woman who requests Black Cab gets her wish on the album). Lekman channels Morrissey and The Byrds on I Saw Her At The Anti-War Demonstration, muses on the use of the F-Word, and forges the punchline to childhood jokes. In a sequence of three songs, Lekman assumes the alter ego Rocky Dennis (the name of the facially deformed character played by Eric Stoltz in the ’80s film Mask), whom he finally bids farewell at the end of the trilogy. It’s a thoroughly likeable collection of songs.
Jens Lekman – I Saw Her At The Anti-War Demonstration.mp3

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Wilco – Kicking Television – Live in Chicago

I’m ambivalent about live albums. Much of the time they are a letdown: the songs don’t sound as good as they did on the studio album, the live atmosphere is not captured and so on. Some live albums work because the artist’s stage presence or audience vibe translates to record. And some live albums work because the performer adds something new to the songs. Kicking Television satisfies at least the latter requirement (I’d argue that the vibe is there, too). Take Misunderstood. A weedy, proto-emo number on 1996’s Being There, here it’s a dramatic monster — I’m among those who love the repeated “Nothing”s. There’s humour as well. Following the mid-tempo Wishful Thinking, Tweedy announces, laughingly: “Let’s get this party started…with some mid-tempo rock”. True to his word, the band eases into the mid-tempo Jesus etc. With the great Nels Cline in the line-up and Tweedy having polished his guitar work, there’s much to be had by way of axemanship, most notably on At Least That’s What You Said.
Wilco – Misunderstood.mp3

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Hello Saferide – Introducing…Hello Saferide

Like fellow Swede Jens Lekman, who gets a namecheck in the wonderful The Quiz on Hello Saferide’s 2006 EP, Annika Norlin (for she is Hello Saferide) benefits from a quirky sense of humour, an attractive Swedish accent and the fact that English is not her first language. The latter is not a handicap as she manoeuvres her way around conventions to create novel lyrical ideas that are often cute but never twee. Norlin’s mind is fascinating: expressing her affection for a friend, she wishes they were lesbians; she wishes her boyfriend illness so that she can take care of her “teddy bear on heroin”; getting in touch again with an old pen pal, she admits to having told lies; as a high school stalker in the very funny song of the same name she breaks into the dentist’s office so that the object of her desire won’t need braces and then has coffee with his mother. The upbeat tunes are catchy, and the slow numbers are saved by almost invariably great lyrics and Norlin’s lovely, vulnerable voice.
Hello Saferide – Highschool Stalker.mp3
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Neil Diamond – 12 Songs

God bless Rick Rubin. Having re-established Johnny Cash as relevant artist, he resurrected Neil Diamond, redeeming him from the lame-jacketed crooner reputation. The title 12 Songs became a misnomer with the belated introduction of two bonus tracks (a rip-off, surely it’s the initial purchasers of an album who deserve a bonus), one an alternative, upbeat version of Delirious Love, a song featuring Brian Wilson that appears in more muted form among the original dozen tracks.. That song is the closest Diamond comes to his late ’60s pomp, the bonus track’s arrangement in particular. Most of the album is reflective, pensive and acoustic. It is beautiful. And it’s tempting to give Rubin all the credit. That would be unfair to Diamond, who wrote the songs and for whom the acoustic arrangement is not foreign, as fans of his ’60s albums will know. More than equipping Diamond with a new sound, Rubin harnessed the man’s strength and, perhaps more importantly, by association made him, like Cash, relevant again.
Neil Diamond – Save Me A Saturday Night.mp3

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Common – Be

I can think of very few albums on which the three closing tracks may be the set’s best. Ziggy Stardust comes to mind as a contender (though its best song, Starman, is on Side 1). This is certainly the case here. Modern hip hop, especially the leering misogyny and swaggering materialism expressed by dentally adventurous people in whose company I would not want to spend a minute, leaves me largely cold. Kanye West’s album of the same year had its moments, but I never feel prompted to play it. West did, however, produce most of Common’s album, which is good, and appears on many of the tracks, which is not so good when he makes those idiotic high-pitched noises. This certainly is not a hip hop album that’s representative of the contemporary genre. As much of Common’s work, it is thoughtful and socially conscious. It draws as much from Public Enemy as it does from the great era of politically aware black music, the early to mid-1970s. There is more than a hint of Curtis Mayfield and Gil Scott-Heron on Be, and the Last Poets even appear on the album, as does John Legend, one of the few current non-nasal R&B crooners whose music is rooted in the ’70s soul scene (slightly unexpectedly, John Mayer also pops up). Common, in short, is the Marvin Gaye of hip hop.
Common – It’s Your World (Part 1 & 2).mp3

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Josh Rouse – Nashville

On his fifth album, the Nebraskan Rouse said goodbye to his temporary domicile of Nashville before moving to Spain. Where his previous album, 1972, sought to capture the vibe of the year of the title, on Nashville Rouse revisits 1980s indie pop through a country lense. It’s cheerful, catchy stuff for a warm summer’s evening (even if one track is called Winter In The Hamptons), admirably coming in at under 40 minutes, like LPs used to. The lyrics aren’t very memorable here; some are decidedly pedestrian. The album’s most powerful song, Sad Eyes, is also its least jovial. It starts slowly as Rouse observes a woman’s melancholy and builds up to a, erm, rousing climax as he offers encouragement. Alas, it’s followed by the set’s one clunker, the rocker Why Won’t You Tell Me What.
Josh Rouse – Sad Eyes.mp3

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Ben Folds – Songs For Silverman

Ah, the album the hardcore Foldsians love to hate. Granted, there’s some forgettable guff on here. Much as I love Ben Folds, I would not be able to tell you a thing about Time or Sentimental Guy. And, as I’m getting all my irritations with Silverman off the chest, the tribute to Elliott Smith, Late, has some really poor lyrics. But then there is the vintage Folds stuff. Bastard, ostensibly about young Republicans in old clothes, packs a decent groove. Give Judy My Notice has a great West Coast rock vibe. You To Thank has a superb piano break, and the break-up songs, Trusted (“She’s gonna be pissed when she wakes up for terrible things I did to her in her dreams”) and Landed (“Down comes the reign of the telephone czar”), are among the best work Folds has done, musically and lyrically. And having just listened to Time and Sentimental Guy for the purpose of this project, well, they are not bad songs.
Ben Folds – You To Thank.mp3

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Rosie Thomas – If These Songs Could Be Held

The title If These Songs Could Be Held seems apt; there is fragility in Rosie Thomas’ songs, emphasised by her beautiful, sad voice. You want to hold her and the songs. Her family and friends help out again, with Ed Harcourt duetting on the unpretentious cover of Let It Be Me (featured in The Originals Vol. 24). The arrangements are more complex than a casual listen would suggest. Hear the almost martial bass drum in the opener Since You’ve Been Gone. The lyrics range from perceptive introspection to sophomore poetry, but expressed through the medium of Rosie’s gorgeous voice, even the more inopportune words are entirely forgivable.
Rosie Thomas – If These Songs Could Be Held.mp3

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More Albums of the Year

Rotterdam, 10 januari 2007

Wat indrukken van mijn India-bezoek van afgelopen week:.
In een uurtje strandliggen verschijnt het volgende spectrum van het rijke Indiase leven aan mijn Goa-strandbedje:…
- 4 Indiase schonen die mij beslist nu of ‘Maybe later?‘ willen masseren . (bleek heerlijk)
- 1 doofstomme, vanwie volgens overhandigd en officieel bestempeld formulier naast de eigen ongemakken ook min of meer de gehele familie door natuurrampen, polio of verkeersongelukken is weggevaagd en die blijkens bijgevoegde handtekeningenlijst al van het halve strand minstens 300 Roepies heeft ontvangen
- 2 ivoren olifantjesverkopers
- 3 sarong en/of doekenverkopers
- het jochie met de bananen
- z’n broertje met de nootjes
- de gozert met de zelfgebrande CD’s (klonk erg goed door zijn koptelefoon; hoewel de à 200 Rp aangeschafte ‘Hindi Blast Pop’ thuis na 1x beluisteren wel snel een plekje zal vinden tussen mijn in Griekenland en Portugal aangeschafte lokale meesterwerken)
- 2 henna-tattoo-specialisten
- 2 door het zand kruipende kreupelen
- diverse belangwekkende zakenmannen met aktentassen ‘juwelen’ (’special price for ze beautiful lady’)
- nog wat gasten met pockets, t-shirts, landkaarten, slippers, en wat zoal überhaupt nog meer produceerbaar en sjouwbaar is

Het valt kortom niet mee de aandacht bij mijn geweldige boek ‘Zaterdag’ van Ian McEwan te houden, daar ik in de linkerooghoek het roestend dobberende vrachtschip ‘The Princess of Huppelepup’ dat 6 jaar geleden jammerlijk gestrand is, in de gaten moet houden, alsmede de staat van verbranding van een flink aantal Engelse zwaargewichten waarvan de meesten eruit zien alsof dit hun 1e week proefverlof is na 15 jaar staatsgevangenis.
Plus tussendoor uiteraard filosoferen over de waargenomen verschillen in bikinilijn tussen Rusland, Zweden en Polen.
Je krijgt er dorst van, en dat treft, want ‘t strand is bezaaid met stemmige boombladeren-strandtenten waar men á 30 Rp (€ 0,60) een prima Kingfisher-pils schenkt.
Jammer dat nu net mijn geliefde witte wijn relatief duur is in India.
Hoewel..na uitvoerige berekeningen blijkt ‘t – mits per fles besteld – toch 2,5x goedkoper dan te WP, zodat ik dat maar naar binnen kloek, waarna de schaamte over mijn onmetelijke rijkdom alhier gelukkig wat verdampt in het gelukzalige besef de Indiasche economie toch weer met een Euro of 6 verrijkt te hebben.

Beslist afwijkend t.o.v Hoek van Holland-strand is dat ook koeien regelmatig over ‘t strand sjokken en soms even lekker in de schaduw van een parasolletje neerploffen.
Niemand lijkt ‘t gek te vinden behalve ik.

Engelse bejaarden zijn goed vertegenwoordigd te Goa. Erg leuk om hen snoeihard vals menige Engelbert Humperdinck-knaller uit de 70-er jaren te horen meeloeien voor de Karaoke-tv met de tekst in barretje Sandstorm.
Gezien de bierprijs moet ‘t een paradijs voor ze zijn hier. Men lijkt vastbesloten er maximaal van te profiteren zodat ’s-morgens 10u. al menig stel aan de halve liters zit te lurken.

De Oude-Jaars-opwinding was dermate groot dat het wachten tot 24u. telang duurde; om 23:30u. barstte een oorverdovend vuurwerk los.
Men doet niet aan lachwekkende post-Volendam brandvoorschriften, zodat ‘t een gezellig gezamenlijk ontwijken van over het strand loeiende vuurpijlen en rondspattend knalwerk was.
Alle strandtenten deden daarbovenop hun uiterste best de geluidsinstallatie om zeep te helpen. Nog net was b.v. Christina Aguilera te horen met alle meters in het rood, maar overstemd door een volslagen overstuurde Bob Marley van strandtent rechts, en zwaar gehinderd door schetterende Hindipop van strandtent links.
Sfeervol kortom, maar voor twee 40+-ers toch een wat ferme aanslag op de oortjes, zodat al snel cocktailbarretje Bessoa op Candolim-hoofdweg bezocht werd.
Daar was zowaar weer enige conversatie mogelijk, plus stond de bejaarde locale bruiloftsgitarist de sterren van de hemel te spelen.
Ongeveer het gehele Beatle-repertoire kwam er gepassioneerd uit, hetgeen tot veel bijval en wenken der ober leidde.

Simone had donderdagavond haar ‘finest moment’ toen ze nietsvermoedend een plasje ging doen in openlucht-barretje terwijl net de optredende Dave Arnold (“India’s answer to Neil Diamond, as seen on BBC2“) zijn versie van ‘I am, I said’ beëindigde’.
Gedecideerd heupwiegend deinde ze in rode hippie-jurk voor het podium langs.
Of ‘t de duisternis was of Dave’s unieke entertainment-ervaring..we zullen het nooit weten, maar tot (voor het eerst) groot enthousiasme der aanwezigen mompelde hij met z’n heerlijke grafstem: ‘I dedicate this next song to the lovely lady in red‘, waarop hij omfloerst ‘Girl,….you’ll be a woman….soon’ inzette.
Ik bestelde nog maar een Indiaas whiskeytje voor mezelf en een Pina Colada voor S. om van de emoties te bekomen.
Fijn land.

Every once in  a while we need to get away. Peggy and I celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary by taking a trip to Branson, Missouri. I fully expected to add posts and cartoons to grumpajoesplace, but learned very early in the trip that my computer was trashed. It needs a reload of the operating system. I now have it at the fixer to try and save my files before it is re-loaded to factory status. In the meantime, I work on my seven-year old lap top; sloooow, verrry slooow.

Branson is pure fun. It has to be the entertainment capital of the world. A person can see three shows a day for a week and not see all of them. Each one is better than the last. Even the second tier entertainers are great. We saw a young man, Keith Allyn,  who put on a Neil Diamond tribute. He looked like Neil, and sounded like Neil too. We learned of him one morning at breakfast. He came into our hotel to hand out business cards and to talk up his show. Had he not done this, we would never seen his act.

Who else did we see? I’ll list them all and review them for you.

1.”SIX *****” This act partners six brothers who use their voices as instruments. They do not have a single musician on stage, yet they sounded like a full orchestra at times.

2. “Butterfly Palace. **”  More of a tourist trap than entertainment. It was interesting to walk through a jungle like atrium with white butterflies flitting all about. There were hundreds of them. The image being conveyed was that of snow falling. That is why they used white butterflies. All of them are purchased from Costa Rica in cocoon form. They are hatched in the Palace, and live for two weeks. I learned that a butterfly will not reproduce unless it has its host plant to do it on. Since Palace does not have any of the  host plants, they do not reproduce in Branson.

3. “Neil Diamond Tribute ***” very entertaining and well done one man show.

4.” Tony Orlando  ****and the Lennon Sisters ****”  The trio of Lennon Sisters sang beautifully. They combined favorite songs from the Lawrence Welk show with more contemporary tunes. Since Branson features Christmas shows from November through early December, many of the songs are Christmas Carols. Stage sets are typically loaded with Christmas trees. Tony Orlando combined his hour of both contemporary songs “Tie A Yellow Ribbon,” with a Christmas skit starring Santa Claus and the Nativity. Although in his mid-sixties, his voice was pure and powerful.

5. “The Oak Ridge Boys, *****” The boys are back. All of them are original, and now in their sixties, but one would never know by their sound. It was obvious that this group had done a lot of tour performances. The level of professionalism was astounding, the sound was great, the lighting, and the accompanying band solid. Lead singer Joe Bonsall sang a song in tribute to his parents and for veterans. It was a knock out. Joe sang it with such emotion, that the audience had tears in their eyes. The song is “G.I Joe and Lillie.” Veterans day falls into the Christmas season at Branson and each show pays tribute to veterans. The Boys are on their annual Christmas tour and come back to Branson mid-week to perform in their theater.

6. “Andy Williams, *****” this guy is amazing. He invented the Christmas season in Branson. His Christmas show is without rival. At eighty-two, the Andy performed for an hour and forty-five minutes and sounded great. I thought for sure he was lip synching.  We had front row center seats, and I can tell you he does not lip synch. His voice is as powerful as it always was.  His show emulates his old TV show. He has a few acts coming out to keep things lively and to give him a break. As long as he lives, he will do this show, and I will go to see him.

7. “Shoji Tabuchi, ****” An immigrant from Japan, this man became a first class country western fiddle player. although he can play classic violin, he came to America to be a CW star. He migrated to Branson nineteen years ago and built a theater for his performances.  The theater is a show case venue. He made the restrooms a feature that people talk about as much as they do  his performances. I can only speak for the men’s room which contains a billiard parlor with two rows of perimeter seating to watch  matches. The interior of the elimination room is absolutely stunning.  His show is also stunning. He combines his play with many well choreographed dances, flying angels, and songs by his daughter.

8. “Yakov, ****” Russian born and an immigrant to the US, Yakov is a very funny man. He has a unique way of looking at our culture from his perspective, and to point out the humor.  Like Shoji and Andy Williams, he has been in Branson for nineteen years. He built his own theater and plays to capacity crowds regularly. He boasted of how hard it was to earn “a lousy $100,000.00 a week.”  I left his show laughing for hours afterward. His jokes lingered and the humor kept me in high spirits. In one of his skits he showed the value of humor in longevity. He taped a couple who were married for seventy-five years. He asked what their secret was for staying married so long. The wife answered this way, “never go to sleep angry, stay up and fight.”

9. “Dalena Ditto,”  **** Another second tier performer who puts on a great show. This time she used me as a celebrity walk on. As part of her show, she picks an old fat guy from the audience to fool around with on stage. I was the second guy she picked. She had me sit on a chair facing the audience. She wore long red gloves and a stunning red gown. During her song I felt and saw red gloves against my face and through my hair. The audience was screaming with delight. I helped out by nuzzling the hand against my face. At the end of the song, I learned that the red gloves were on the hands of the male guitar player. Lots of fun. Dalena sings great and is a good looker too. She comes from family of performers. She spoke of her father playing in the Country Western scene.

“Joey Riley, ****” Joey has been playing straight man for Mickey Gilley for seventeen years. The two of them are hilarious together. This year, Mickey cancelled his season because of an accident. Joey Riley filled in for him with his own show. He is a talented musician, playing the fiddle, guitar, and the steel guitar. His wit is spontaneous and quick.  He featured his lovely wife in several dance routines. We  spent another two hours of side-splitting laughter.

The worst part of going to Branson is the nine-hour drive home.

Chart Position: NR

• Written by Neil Diamond
• Produced by Tom Catalano

Exista o scena memorabila, in filmul Cantaretul de Jazz, unde Neil Diamond se deghizeaza ca un negru pentru a canta intr-o biserica afro-americana.

Totul merge perfect, pana cand unul din credinciosi observa ca Neil are mainile albe. Toata lumea e socata si enoriasii se iau la bataie.

Urmand acelasi sistem, in urma cu cateva ore am observat ca interiorul unei coacaze negre nu este intradevar negru, asa ca am decojit una.

Am fost socat.

Apoi am inceput sa imi iau prietena la bataie.

For this week’s Musical Monday, I’ve chosen a song that’s been weighing on my mind a lot these days . . . I Am, I Said by the amazing and timeless Neil Diamond.

*sigh*

L.A.’s fine, the sun shines most the time
And the feeling is ‘lay back’
Palm trees grow, and rents are low
But you know I keep thinkin’ about
Making my way back

Well I’m New York City born and raised
But nowadays, I’m lost between two shores
L.A.’s fine, but it ain’t home
New York’s home, but it ain’t mine no more

“I am,” I said
To no one there
An no one heard at all
Not even the chair
“I am,” I cried
“I am,” said I
And I am lost, and I can’t even say why
Leavin’ me lonely still

Did you ever read about a frog who dreamed of bein’ a king
And then became one
Well except for the names and a few other changes
I you talk about me, the story’s the same one

But I got an emptiness deep inside
And I’ve tried, but it won’t let me go
And I’m not a man who likes to swear
But I never cared for the sound of being alone

“I am,” I said
To no one there
An no one heard at all
Not even the chair
“I am,” I cried
“I am,” said I
And I am lost, and I can’t even say why
Leavin’ me lonely still

Famous chickenhawk/war supporter Rush Limbaugh, appearing on one of those stupid Fox News sunday morning talking head shows, again called Barack Obama a “man-child.” 

http://rawstory.com/2009/11/limbaugh-obama-afghanistan/

Speaking of manly behavior, did you know Rush dodged the draft due to having an anal cyst?   Liberal Talk Host Randi Rhodes said she had the same thing – an anal cyst. However, she had outpatient surgery to have it removed —– and then went on to proudly serve in the military.

BTW, “Two Bit Manchild is the title of a non-chart busting single by Neil Diamond from 1968:

Zilele trecute tot fredonam

iar in aceasta dimineata m-am trezit cu o melodie anume in minte care intamplator imi si place destul de mult, iar acum se si muleaza destul de mult pe mine in momentul actual!

P.S. Aceasta ulima piesa, Free Faling, se pare ca a simtit-o si Tom Cruise intr-un film in care a jucat!

Zilele trecute tot fredonam

iar in aceasta dimineata m-am trezit cu o melodie anume in minte care intamplator imi si place destul de mult, iar acum se si muleaza destul de mult pe mine in momentul actual!

P.S. Aceasta ulima piesa, Free Faling, se pare ca a simtit-o si Tom Cruise intr-un film in care a jucat!

Entre todas las torturas que han existido en el mundo, esta tortura musical me parece la más dulce. Pero, claro, que se lo digan a los presos que han debido acabar odiando canciones por culpa de tener que escucharlas a todo volumen durante semanas, días u horas (eso sino se han quedado medio sordos).

Un grupo de artistas, liderado por Pearl Jam y REM, han hecho alusión a la Ley de Libertad de Información (1966) para reclamar a la Administración de Estados Unidos que publique el nombre de las canciones que se usaron durante los interrogatorios de sospechosos de terrorismo en la cárcel de Guantánamo (o en alguna otra, ya que la CIA abrió prisiones secretas por todo el mundo como en Irak o Afganistán) durante el mandato del presidente Bush.

Christina Aguilera, Britney Spears, Neil Diamond, AC/DC, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails), Jackson Browne, Billy Bragg o The Roots son algunos de los intérpretes que se han sumado a esta iniciativa creada con el apoyo de la ONG británica Reprieve.

No me extraña que se hayan sumado a esta petición ya que, como explica Tom Morello (guitarrista de Rage Against The Machine) no se siente nada bien pensando que la música que su grupo creó se haya usado en “crímenes contra la humanidad”. Encima sin permiso y sin hacérselo saber a ninguno de los grupos involucrados.

Entre la música que se sabe/se cree que utilizaban para estas prácticas encontramos temas tan dispares como canciones de Metallica, de AC/DC, de Britney Spears, los Bee Gees, Bruce Springsteen, Nancy Sinatra o, incluso, canciones infantiles como las del Dinosaurio Barney y Barrio Sésamo (lástima que estos últimos no puedan echarse a la calle para reclamar el respeto que intentaban inculcarnos cuando éramos niños).

Solo un dato más. A pesar de que “fuentes” de la Casa Blanca aseguran que estas prácticas ya no se usan, lo cierto es que en el manual del ejército todavía no están prohibidas.

Önümüzdeki hafta itibariyle hem okulda sınavlar hem de etrafta partiler başlıyor.Kanım fena kaynıyor bu partiler için.Zaten sıkılmışım bu monotonluktan, gülüp oynayasım var.Tüm o parti davetiyeleri “Gel bana!” diye bağırıyorlar resmen.Tabi kışın yaklaşması sebebiyle Uludağ lafı da aldı başını gidiyor.Resmen okulu bırakıp her türlü aktiviteye katılasım var.Hani kaymasam bile giderim, yeter ki gezmek olsun.Daha doğrusu arkadaşlarla geçirilecek herhangi bir vakit.Gidelim, eğlenelim, dönelim…

Bir de bugünden bahsetmek gerekiyor biraz.Bugün garip bir gündü.Yeni birşeyler duydum etraftan, benim hakkımda söylenen.Sonra ben birşeyler söyledim etrafımdakilere, benim hakkımda bilinmeyen.Bir de garip bir melankoli vardı herkeste.Hayattan bezmişlik, herşeyden sıkılmış bir surat ifadesi…

Bu arada kendimle ilgili bir tespitte bulundum.Ben gece 12′ye kadar indie, gece yarısından sabaha kadar ise clubber’ım.Nasıl bir ikilemdir, öyle ruh hali mi olur diyebilirsiniz.Ama vallahi böyle.Gerçi gündüz gözü de cozutmuşluğum yok değil.Neyse…

Son olarak Neil Diamond‘dan Mr. Bojangles dinlemenizi öneriyorum.Bana göre rezalet bir film olan The Soloist‘de kulağıma ilişti.Sanki şarkılar bir filmde manalanmadan çok boş gibi…Bu da benim görüşüm olsun.Fazla dağıttım konuyu.Görüşürüz!

People are always asking me, Troy, why shoes? Why power lines?

A hanging pair of shoes sends a message. It says, “Welcome to the City. People die here.”

Is it a warning? Yes.

Is it art? Well, now we’re getting into slippery territory. Is Neil Diamond art? Is the Statue of Liberty art? What is courage? Etc. Of course it’s art…to me. It’s my art. It’s my passion.

I can’t call it destiny because what is destiny? Was it my destiny to get those old Reeboks caught on that line near 17th and Jefferson? I didn’t set out to do that this morning. I set out to hit the Dollar Menu at McDonald’s with a ten spot. Did I change course because I wanted to or because it was my destiny? You see where this is going?

Is it dangerous? Well, only when you get them down.

But I don’t get them down. I get them stuck. That’s what I do. I tie shoes together at the laces and toss them at power lines so they will hang and mark that I’ve been there.

My first time? June 20, 1987. Just off Newberry St. near Market. Took me several tosses–it didn’t come easy–but eventually they snagged. I was 13. You never forget your first hanger.

Does this define me? No. And yes.

I’m not just a power line shoe-tosser. I’m a poet. I’m someone’s child. I believe in the sanctity of life, etc.

And yet I am a power line shoe-tosser. It’s in my bones. It’s what I think about when I get up. It’s on my mind as I go to bed. Someday, God-willing, I’ll pass this on to my children. Maybe one of them will land that elusive Timberland boot snag or find a pair of Jordans and get them caught somewhere near downtown.

Where is this going? I don’t know. I’m just one man. One man who steals shoes from Goodwill, from passed out men at the bus station, and ties those laces together to heave skyward. Will it snag? Will it hit the mark and say to the neighborhood, “Drug house, everybody!”? Again, I don’t know.

It gives me purpose.

It’s the flame I protect from the storm.

]]> http://umbrellasarefortourists.wordpress.com/2009/10/22/touching-hands-touching-me-touching-you/ Thu, 22 Oct 2009 23:42:37 +0000 myaimistrueblue http://umbrellasarefortourists.wordpress.com/2009/10/22/touching-hands-touching-me-touching-you/

I knew Neil Diamond would one day be used for more than a shameful nostalgic flashback or an excuse to put on my favorite sequined shirt. Cue last nights Glee which was amazing as usual, and proved what I’ve been saying since day one: Mark Salling (Puck) should/would have had that male lead role had it not been for Cory Monteith’s (Finn) All-American good looks. Guess we’ll just have to put up with the occasional auto-tune for Cory, and hope that Mark gets some more solos. Hell, even Neil Patrick Harris is tweeting about him. Your middle name might be Leslie, but I have to love you for this one Neil Diamond.

Neil Diamond – Sweet Caroline

Glee Cast – Sweet Caroline

Glee Cast – Bust a Move

PS. Can Matthew Morrison pop, lock, and break like a bored middle-school boy or WHAT? I knew you weren’t really spending all your time teaching “Spanish” Mr. Schuester.

PPS. Totally going to see Glee live when they inevitably go on tour. Shamelessly I might add.

Thanks Tom and Lorenzo!

Oh yeah! I would absolutely faint if they got him to cover a Robbie Williams song but this is just delish in its place.

Where it began
I cant begin to knowin
But then I know its growin strong

Was in the spring
And spring became the summer
Whod have believed youd come along

Hands, touchin hands
Reachin out
Touchin me
Touchin you

Sweet caroline
Good times never seemed so good
Ive been inclined
To believe they never would

But now i
Look at the night
And it dont seem so lonely
We fill it up with only two
And when I hurt
Hurtin runs off my shoulders
How can I hurt when Im with you

Warm, touchin warm
Reachin out
Touchin me
Touchin me

Sweet caroline
Good times never seemed so good
Ive been inclined
To believe they never would
Oh, no, no

Sweet caroline
Good times never seemed so good
Ive been inclined
I believed they never could
Sweet caroline