Godínez intenta impresionar al departamento de fotocopiado asegurándoles que no sabe quien es Brad Pitt ya que él ve puras de Kieslowski y tiene un tatuaje de Tetsuo en la espalada baja.

Acepta la invitación de Godínez para que te meta mano en lo oscurito de la cineteca; cortesía de su abono que no incluye palomitas.

Duración: 75 minutos 13 segundos / 34.4 MB

Canciones:

• The Jam / A Town called Malice [Billy Elliot]
• Michael Jackson / Ease on down the road [The Wiz]
• Gavin Friday / Wig Wam Bam [Breakfast on Pluto]
• Goran Bregovic / Mesecina [Underground]
• Antonio Banderas / Bella María de mi alma [The Mambo Kings]
• Marc Anthony / Mi Gente [El Cantante]
• Richard Berry / Louie, Louie [Animal House]
• The George Baker Selection / Little Green Bag [Resorvoir dogs]
• Bob Dylan / The man in me [The Big Lebowski]
• Underworld / Born Slippy [Trainspotting]
• Roxy Music / Virginia Plain [Velvet Goldmine]
• M.I.A. / Paper Planes [Slumdog Millionaire]
• Curtis Mayfield / P.S. I love You [Superbad]
• Elton John / Tiny Dancer [Almost Famous]
• Louis Armstrong / La vie en Rose [WALL*E]
• Slim Whitman / Indian Love Call [Mars Attacks!]
• La que debes ver antes de morir. El luchador.

Arte: Folder para tu Pc / imprime, recorta y arma el empaque.

Descarga: Godínez va al cine. 16 canciones remezcladas en el rancho de George Lucas que se recomienda escuchar en sonido Surround envolvente.

Escucha en línea:

Greetings Shirleyphiles and welcome to another 40 minutes or so of low-fi lovliness!

Well its getting a little chilly round these parts and when Shirl’s parts get a little chilly, yours truly reaches for her favourite fur coat. Now before you start throwing cream pies and planning how to knee cap me next time we meet in the carpark, the fur in question is 100% endorsed by the late Linda McCartney herself! No, its not woven from Sir Paul’s pubic shedding – heaven forbid – but is a fabulous faux little number which fits me to a tee and fools just about everyone! Even mr.K looked twice when I swished in wearing said fur for the first time. Always the thoughtful one, for the first two weeks he would leave it a bowl of water as it lay languid across the lounge.

That’s more than Heather did for Sir Paul I bet!

So for all the Shirleyphiles feeling the chill, this show is for you! Unhinged as we are, we’ve thrown open the cages with Pavlovian technique and released our animal instincts along with Tom Jones, The Trashmen, Slim Whitman, Mama Cass, Iggy Pop, Dusty Springfield, Mrs Miller, Ivor Cutler, Wire, Nick Cave, The Birthday Party, Rex Harrison, Kate Bush, Benzell Graham, Brigette Bardot, The Nutty Squirrels, Jonathon Richman & The Modern Lovers, Tiny Tim, Ella Mae Morse & The Kinks. How’s that for a musical menagerie!

Until next time listeners, move the cat out of harms way, feed the birds tuppence a bag and give the next furry friend you come across a little scratch behind the ear. You should see mr.K roll over each time I do that to him! It’s positively canine, darlings!

*be smooched*
laShirl and mr. Kenneth

DOWNLOAD .mp3 (15mb) | STREAM via realplayer.

If you need the free player, download here

If you’re looking for some of the past shows : download HERE or troll through the Archives page for a selection from way back!

Here’s the first taste of Goli for everyone. The prelude is here. Enjoy.

Prelude

I sit lifeless and mundane before the shrine of the computer age. I have my shoes off and my tie loose because- well, because I don’t give a damn and anyone that would left thirty minutes ago. With my sleeves rolled up, the edge of my desk makes two lines across my forearms, two bright red creases in my flesh which may someday, after years of recurrence, amount to the only physical damage this occupation has afforded me. My great battle scars. My hands move mechanically and with a mind of their own to open my email which shows nothing new and a social networking sight that’s hardly social at all, but more of a psychological fixation. They open it periodically. Not because there should be anything new to find, no messages or insincere comments or reminiscence about that joke from last weekend when we were down at Snug’s and Tom went over to that chick in the red, you know, the one with the great body but that face that was… anyways,  he goes over and- wait- what did he say? Ah, I can’t remember. That’s not the point. The point is- the point is… screw it. It’s too late in the day and I’ve got plans for later. I can’t be expending all my energy in tangential reverie.
Dennis sits three desks behind me and one to the left. He’s still here because he has nothing waiting on him at home. Mark, who sits behind him, in his Friday blue shirt once fresh from the cleaners and now wrinkled on the back and dark under the arms, is still here because he does have something awaiting him at home. He has a renovation bill for a new state-of-the-art kitchen, a tuition payment, a youth ballet school dropout three years in and an already cynical successor in Velcro sneakers and pull-ups whom he pities for having to spend all day long with the aforementioned. While other fathers dream of someday teaching their sons a knuckleball and how to get to second base on the cheerleader without getting thrown out in the bottom of the fourteenth, Mark aspires to teach young junior how to get from the stairs to the kitchen and back without being heard and how best to elongate trips to the store for milk into hour-long endeavors. Poor Mark.
It is now six thirteen post meridian and I have been free for the last forty three minutes. So why, you ask, am I still here in this concrete cradle? If you must know, the answer is Epstein. Epstein is my boss. Epstein went to Cornell and graduated with a masters in Jackass. He tells everyone it was business ethics, but it’s been evident for a number of years now that Epstein knows more about being a jackass than he ever will about ethics. To Epstein, “strength” is nothing more than a poster that hangs framed behind his desk with a picture of a silhouetted figure hanging perilously from a rock face looking over the desert of wherever and secretly imagining every possible way to impale a photographer who keeps overexposing the film and telling him, “Just two more minutes. Just hang on for two more minutes.” Sorry, I get carried away.
Point being, I had to go to Epstein’s office at five thirty because he’s so busy with calling his dad for advice and masturbating under the desk all day that he can’t make time to meet with me on business hours and has to cut into my evening just so he can sit and ask me if everything’s going tip-top and reminding me how crucial it is for us to stay ahead this quarter because if we don’t, well, well…and after that he wasn’t really sure what to say, so he changed the subject and said something stupid because he’s Epstein, and Epstein says stupid things.
So now I’m leaving. I’m about to relieve myself on Epstein’s desk, hug Dennis and tell him life will get better for him, which is a lie, tell Mark to get a divorce, get a nineteen year old Polynesian, get a diet and get on a plane to somewhere that makes him get all warm and mushy inside, and for God’s sakes take the boy. Then, I’m going to go stick my tongue down the throat of the new secretary on the third floor, throw her over my shoulder, douse my desk in lighter fluid, light the bastard and call it a night.
Maybe next week. For now I’ll just remind myself to be sure and say goodnight to the parking deck security girl. They sit in the same Plexiglas booth so long every day it must be miserably boring. She seems like a nice girl.
Enough of that, tonight is my night. It’s where I wave goodbye to my friend of misery for two whole days and find new ways to degrade myself sufficiently before the cycle repeats. So come, the eve of responsibility is fleeting and if we be machines, let us be breeding machines, sex machines, drinking machines and whatever else we can conjure together. Is everybody in?

In the previous post, I talked about Tex Owens, the author of the very famous Cattle Call. Here are different versions of the song, in chronological order. Sorry for the wait, it was quite a long post to write and lots of songs to get, even if I’m sure there are other versions out there, but I find the exercice very interesting ! I hope you do too. And on the personal side, I’m quite busy for the moment with other projects and the weather this Easter weekend was so nice, I enjoyed the sun instead of blogging.

This is also a good post to celebrate the one year anniversay of Mademoiselle Montana’s Yodel Heaven !

Tex Owens recorded it in 1934 and again in 1936. He recalls writing the tune while waiting for a radio broadcast. It was snowing and it reminded him of his earlier life as a cowboy. “Watching the snow, my sympathy went out to cattle everywhere, and I just wished I could call them all around me and break some corn over a wagon wheel and feed them. That’s when the words “cattle call” came to my mind. I picked up my guitar, and in thirty minutes I had wrote the music and four verses to the song.” (found in Cattle Call. Early Cowboy Music and its Roots, Rounder, and in Bart Plantenga’s book)

The song is inspired by cowboy life: the cowboys used cattle calls to let the cattle know where the herders where at night time.

Tex Ritter recorded it in 1947. No real yodel but his voice breaks many times. It is a very romantic version with the chorus that prefigures his biggest hit, High Noon.

Carolina Cotton made her version around 1951.

It was Eddy Arnold’s performance from 1955 that made the song so popular. His version, accompanied by the Hugo Winterhalter Orchestra, is country but with hints towards pop styles. He recorded the song first in 1944, and then again in 1949 and yet again in 1961. It was used in the movie My own private Idaho.

One of the kings of yodel, Slim Whitman recorded the song in 1954. He had been influenced by Eddy Arnold but his falsetto range was a lot better. He made the song more flamboyant and increased the tempo to produce an exciting and wild sound. If I remember good, you can hear the song in Mars Attack, with Indian Love Call.

Sheb Wooley did his best in 1960 but his yodel isn’t so good…

Even Elvis Presley sang it: here’s just the yodel from Cattle Call at a rehearsal for a documentary, That’s the way it is, and here, with full band and chorus where he shows his ability to yodel. (1970)

And what about a yodel with a Moog ? Gil Trythall recorded Cattle Call in 1971 with his synthesizer and it works very good !

Around 1986 Boxcar Willie made a version with a playful yodel.

Don Edwards recorded a version in 1992, noting in the liner notes of his album that the “original version was more authentic than the later versions that added a silly chorus (I suppose for the sake of records company executives and for radio play).“

Emmylou Harris tells that the first song she remember hearing on the radio was Cattle Call by Eddie Arnold when she was four years old. She made a live version in 1992.

Cowboy singer Skip Gorman has a version on A greener prairie (1994).

The same year, Wylie Gustafson made a version with his Wild West group.

LeAnn Rimes was 14 when she recorded it in 1996, with Eddy Arnold. A very young voice but such a beautiful yodel !

The last version I found is from People Like Us, aka DJ and multimedia artist Vicki Bennett, from Abridged to Far (2004), that you can find for download on UbuWeb. Here’s what they say about this album: “On Abridged Too Far, People Like Us continues its pastiche of impressions of popular music from Europe and America from the 1920s thru to 1990s. Bennett’s work is an examination of the affect of hearing well known tunes and lyrics in fragments, then putting those elements to play– resonating, intermingling and recombining with the listeners own associations and shards of memories.“

And after all this version of the same song, I’m sure you’ll be singing it all the time ! I can’t get it out of my head since weeks…

Tex Owens (I don’t know if it’s the 1934 or 1936 version, sorry !)

Tex Ritter – 1947

Carolina Cotton – 1951

Eddy Arnold – 1949, 1955 (with the Hugo Winterhalter Orchestra), 1961

Slim Whitman – 1954

Sheb Wooley – 1960

Elvis Presley – 1970

Gil Trythall – 1971

Boxcar Willie – 1986

Don Edwards – 1992

Emmylou Harris – 1992

Skip Gorman – 1994

Wylie Gustafson – 1994

LeAnn Rimes – 1996

People Like Us – 2004

Where the livin's easy .....

‘Jus sitting here at the fishing hut, dusk coming on, water still as glass lapping at the shore and leaning back in my old recliner eased by the dulcet tones of Miss Patsy Cline.

G’ol darn-it, that is hurtin’ music and ‘ahm feeling sorry for myself just listening to her saying sorry. And oh-h-h-h-h, how it pulls the emotion right outa’ me …which reminds me: I’m way, way overdue for a karaoke hootenany, masquerading as ma’ own personal party.

I see people doing karaoke and they bore me to tears. I want to get up in my director’s chair, megaphone in hand and urge them on: “You’ve got the mic all to yourself – do something with it: Perform. Create an experience!” But to be fair, the audience has to be in on it by being into it.

Now, I know my friends think ah’ can’t sing. And they’re right, I can’t sing worth a lick, but it ain’t necessarily about charming the birds out of the trees like old Slim could:

or even one of them Hollywood types,

For me it’s about butchering up old favourites in my ewe-nique, out-of-the-forest-zonked-out-of-my-gourd-on-God’s-toadstools-kind-way-of-way. And I can do this quite readily – with no real warm-up ‘cept maybe a couple gallons of ale (as I find it limbers me up) – on account of me being built for it. Yup, I got that rare strain of ‘Unanus in Leo’ which can make for an interesting time:

Which way to the stage?

All this reving up; when, oh when, could this happen? Well, seeing as I’m a little extra lean right now due to my unofficial weight loss plan, I’d have to say it ain’t going to be this weekend but next weekend is looking good. Location? Mmmmmm, as I know the quantity of liquid lubrication required to be at my best, I’d have to say………

I’m a sucker for old country music.  The bolder the twang and the sweeter the yodel, the more I like it.  James and I are up early this morning as he prepares for his Toastmasters meeting so we had to find appropriate music for our listening pleasure.  Who better to greet the day than the wonderful Slim Whitman?  After doing a quick Google search, I came to appreciate this mighty yodeler even more.

How did I come about my Slim Whitman music?  Well, it’s actually pretty wonderful.  After coming back from a wedding shower last weekend, I was perusing the ads on Craigslist when I came across a listing for someone giving away the contents of their garage.  I call this a “Garage Free.”  Of course, we hopped into the station wagon and went to visit these lovely people (does this make us bad??).  Anyway, we had a great time, got to meet lots of folks and made some amazing finds.  One of the first things I picked snapped up was a great record/8 track player.  James has been wanting a record player for a while and I have been yearning for an 8 track player.  Great!  Not far from the stereo was a faux alligator case filled with 8 tracks.  Of course, these weren’t just any 8 tracks.  They’re recordings from the likes of Marty Robbins, Johnny Cash, Slim Whitman, Connie Smith, Patsy Cline and more!

Hearing the soulful yodel of Slim Whitman was just the thing to start our day off and even motivated me to write a little post, telling you all about it.  What’s your favorite way to start the day?  Music, reading, solitude?  Let me know and in the meantime, enjoy this great video.

She’s back! Christy Lane has saccharinely serenaded F&F fans since the days of Juliet Huddy and Mike Jerrick. Now like the unwelcome ghost from Christmas past she is at it again with her endless holiday music commercials on F&F. Her ad says, “Her voice has captured the world.” The author is reminded of the old Slim Witman commercial claiming that he “was number one in England longer than Elvis and the Beatles.” Enough!

Chrisy Lane: the raison d’etre of DVR!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slim_Whitman

I bought a second turntable last week – one of the new ones that can feed into the computer via USB port. I was able to digitize vinyl before, but it was a long-ass process which I avoided. I’m glad stereos and computers seem to finally be merging – it’s taken too long. Now I’ll be posting all the crazy shit I’ve been withholding. You’re in for it now.

Last year my bro got me a ton of Andy Kaufman footage from somebody on the net – I love Andy Kaufman a lot, maybe the most. There was a great bit where Kaufman sang a Slim Whitman tune on Letterman (wearing a big swami-diaper and a fake moustache) with great earnesty, and I fell in love with the tune. And it turned out I had it, having grabbed a Whitman Hits record for a buck at some point. I listened to it daily last summer to start my day off right. Check it out, and you will love it too.

rose-marie

Here’s the Letterman bit from youtube:

I liberated these gardenias from a hedge in front of a dentist office.

I adore Gardenias. Their scent always reminds me of Gene Harlow who happened to be the daughter of a dentist. I’m also reminded of my eighth grade graduation where we each wore a gardenia corsage.  I digress, back to Harlow.

You see, her funeral was the biggest ticket in town, M.G.M. made sure of it.  Her service was held in the Wee Kirk O’ the Heather chapel located in Glendale’s very own Forest Lawn. The chapel was drenched with gardenias, ten thousand of them to be exact. Jeanette MacDonald sang “Indian Love Call” Harlow’s favorite song. I happen to prefer Slim Whitman’s version. In case you didn’t know, Harlow wrote a sexually explicit novel that the studio bought up in full and destroyed, she posed nude in Griffith Park, (bleached her pubic hair which was rumored to be the cause of her death) and was the inspiration for the character of Cat Woman in the Batman comic series.

……..

Sorry, guys, I’m not talking about those Freemasons today. No international conspiracies to make Slim Whitman the greatest selling singer of all time, immanentize the eschaton, brainwash the populace through hitherto unknown properties of the large hadron collider, or putting Cheese Whiz in your underwear.

Though, to be fair, all of the above are all things I’d be interested in posting about.

In this context, though, the Freemasons would be a bunch of djs remixing songs, a few of which I felt like posting:

ABC

At the risk of seeming a bit square, I’ve always liked the Jackson 5 song ABC. And this remix with “You’re Not Alone Now” works well.

Of course, I’ve never really felt much like limiting my compass, musical or otherwise.

Uninvited

Seems like I was just playing Alanis Morrissette, doesn’t it? The beat makes all the difference, though.

Here Comes The Rain Again

This may be fairly similar to the original, but is a good remix. And it’s not like the Eurorythmics song is bad…

Found out old Slim lives just down the road from me… http://www.firstcoastnews.com/news/local/news-article.aspx?storyid=109183

Do yo remember the end of the Tim Burton movie Mars Attacks! ? When you see that the martians can’t stand the falsetto/yodel of the favorite song of the grandmother ? This song is Indian love call by Slim Whitman (1924- ). He also sings I’m casting my lasso towards the sky (with yodel) in the movie. He had a very laid-back, romantic singing style, a kind of fusion of country and crooner vocal style.

Slim Whitman (born Otis Dewey Whitman Jr) grew up in a Christian family, poor but loving. His father enjoyed listening to the radio, and the young Slim was exposed to the music of Gene Autry and Jimmie Rodgers, the Sons of the Pioneers and Wilf Carter. Like many others, it was Jimmie Rodgers who caused Slim to experiment with yodelling and he found out at a very early age that he could do it !

He had learned to play guitar in the Navy during the war, and was also a semi-professional baseball player. He began a musical career after the war, signed a record deal in 1949 with RCA and then in 1952 with the Imperial label, whose first major succes came with Slim Whitman: he could yodel and that was enough to sell discs ! His first Top 10 country hit was Love song of the waterfall with poweful falsetto phrase that stops just before a full yodel (the song was used in another movie with aliens: Close Encounters of the Third Kind !). But his major succes came in July 1952 with Indian love call, a song from a 1920s operetta, Rose Marie, written by Rudolph Friml with lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein and Otto Harbach. It sold a million copies and was his first release in the UK. From the same session, China doll has a superb falsetto also.

From a subsequent session, there is By the waters of the Minnetonka, that begins with a great falsetto, a bit like in Indian love call. This song is very difficult to sing but Slim Whitman did it to perfection.

And to end a real yodel: There’s a rainbow in every teardrop, one of his own compositions (probably from 1954), with an extended yodel at the end of the song.

- – May the yodel be with you – -

Slim Whitman:

Indian love call

I’m casting my lasso toward the sky

Love song of the waterfall

China doll

By the waters of the Minnetonka

There’s a rainbow in every teardrop

The Leader of the Australian Liberal Party Dr Brendan Nelson has the rather apt nickname “The Forehead”, but after seeing him on TV this morning I was reminded of someone else with a similar shaped bonce, also from a once mighty conquerer which gets blown apart by a rag-tag opposition – a martian invader from Mars Attacks.

Best not play any Slim Whitman around the good doctor.

Exhuming Bob 5:  Texas Bob Dylan

by

R.E. Prindle

     While much is made of Bob’s Blues interests and his Folk career the truth is that Bob’s big musical influences were Country & Western.  He apparently embraced Robert Johnson after 1961 attempting to make him a major influence while giving himself Black roots and credentials that were then needed.  But when he talks of the pre-1959 period he invariably invokes the great C&W artists of the late forties and early fifties.

     Hence in this photo in what may be his last persona he has returned to his true C&W roots.  This is probably the Bob Bob has always wanted to be.  As you can see he has abandoned any Jewish identity in favor of a forties and fifties Western recording star.  Not so much the Hillbilly or Country aspect as that of the singing Cowboy.  Perhaps he is also recalling his early sixties adulation of Ramblin’ Jack Elliott.

     Here he emulates Slim Whitman- the mustache- Elton Britt,  Ernest Tubb the Texas Troubadour, Hank Williams or any number of artists before the Nudie Suit Of Lights came into fasion in the fifties.

      Note the attention he has taken to remolding his face in the attempt to eliminate Jewish characteristics.  The tight thin lips, the steely eyes.  A remarkable and successful effort at becoming what he has always, apparently, wanted to be.

The photo is taken from the Rolling Stone issue of May 3-17 2007 without permission.  If they object I’ll have to remove the post.

I missed the initial, exaggerated reports earlier in the week of Slim Whitman’s demise. I’m trying to think of where I was and how in the world I missed such news (or un-news).

I have a connection to Slim and I do think it’s cool.The Dad produced Slim back in the early 70’s when he was with United Artists Records.

I can remember the time Slim came to our house for supper. I don’t know exactly how old I was, but, I couldn’t have been more than 4 years old.

I remember the mustache and I think my sister and I were more impressed with the stuffed Woody Woodpecker he brought us than anything. I do remember, as little as I was, that Slim had very distinct eyes that stood out.
It sorta pains me now that people didn’t always have cameras at the ready back in those days like we do now. There are some good pictures of my parents with all sorts of famous people, but, sadly, there are a ton of missed opportunities that I would kill to have photos of. The Supper with Slim is one of those things.

At any rate, I’m glad Slim is still amongst us.

Chi ha visto Mars Attacks! di Tim Burton sa cosa intendo

“Indian Love Call”, by Slim Whitman

Label: London.
Cat No: L.1149
Release Year: 1953