Nickolepsy

Song of the Day — Cowboy Junkies

May 10, 2011
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This cover (The Cowboy Junkies’ studio version of an old Neil Young song) haunts me.

I play it over and over, in a reverie, drifting into the narrator’s world, and humming along with the accordion and the mandolin.  The tone is so tender, the voice so matter-of-fact, that what should be a depressing story becomes noble and beautiful.

Life is short.  We get overwhelmed.  We see in a moment how far from perfection we really are.

And then we do our best, even when it’s not enough.

It IS a sad song, but it’s also beautiful, and — is it just me? I don’t think so — inspirational.

Powderfinger

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Song of the Day — Blues Traveler

February 21, 2011
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A harmonica solo usually is the perfect time for a quick bathroom break, or for a dash to the kitchen for a second helping of linguini, or for lowering your raised finger and saying to your child, “Ok, NOW tell me what your brother did to you.”  Harmonicas are so often screechy and distracting.

Yes, I’m talking to you, Bob Dylan.

Blues-oriented songs integrate the harmonica better than folk songs do.  Dan Ackroyd’s harmonica on those old Blues Brothers songs, for instance, was not merely a cue to empty one’s bladder.

I’ve been listening to Blues Traveler lately.  Despite the name, they are not particularly bluesy.  They are more CountingCrows-y, but with a tremendous rhythm section.  Technically proficient guitar, engaging singer, lyrics are fine but beside the point.  Then there’s the harmonica.  AWESOME.  MORE HARMONICA, PLEASE.

Like on this song:

Whoops


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Song of the Day — Elvis Costello

February 16, 2011
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Different Finger


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Song of the Day — Jale

February 13, 2011
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I’m a sucker for chicks playing grunge

3 days


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Song of the Day — Miranda Sex Garden

February 12, 2011
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Today is for madrigals:

Seek Sweet Content

This Love Is But A Wanton Fit

See Amaryllis Shamed

 

 


Song of the Day — Bob Dylan

February 10, 2011
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Many people assume that Bob Dylan’s humor-blindness was acquired, not congenital.  Nope!  He actually lost it in a motorcycle accident when he was 25 years old.  You’ve seen those early photos of him wearing what look like big black sunglasses?  Those were actually funglasses. They blocked out funny things so that he could focus on not smiling.  (After the accident, he no longer needed prosthetic humor-dampening devices.)

He must have left the funglasses at home the day that he recorded this:

Talkin’ Hava Negeilah Blues

This one he recorded before he got his first pair of funglasses.  Recording equipment was primitive in those days — note the high level of ambient silliness that even the best 21st Century digital remastering cannot filter out:

I Shall Be Free No. 10

(Barry Goldwater jokes are no longer fashionable, but this was considered quite humorous at the time.)

Around that time, Dylan was introduced to Drugs (and vice-versa, of course).  Soon afterwards, he began wearing funglasses.  He didn’t want people to know that he and Drugs were seeing each other, and he thought the funglasses would help keep the relationship secret.  Unfortunately for him, he had already released “Motorpsycho Nitemare”.  No one who listened to it had any doubt: Dylan and Drugs were Doing It.

Motorpsycho Nitemare


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Song of the Day — Helen Forrest

February 7, 2011
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Day in day out


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Song of the Day — Peter Frampton

February 7, 2011
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This is for David…

 

Do You Feel Like We Do

 

(I am the only person in the world who never owned “Frampton Comes Alive” OR “Saturday Night Fever”.  The question is this:

Was this the sign that I would become a freak, or was this the REASON I became such a freak?)


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Song of the Day — Hugh Masekela

February 6, 2011
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Happy morning song, and his (deserved) greatest hit.

 

Grazing In The Grass

 

Bring Him Back Home (Nelson Mandela)


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Song of the Day — David Bowie

January 28, 2011
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Ok, universe.  You passed the test.  I have been a monster ever since getting home tonight from work, haven’t written a thing in two months, posted almost no music, have abandoned this blog, and now, surfing the net, riding a wave of needy and fragmented, I dropped by here to prove to myself that I am alone.

Found a whole bunch of visits.

What are people looking for?  I can only guess.  Who visited?  Not a clue.  The WordPress ticker gives me raw numbers and nothing else.  But people keep coming here looking for something, and I don’t do porn or cute animal pictures — or both — so… yippee!  A fabulous source of guilt!  Oh, I feel bad for not writing.  I’m a bad, bad boy for not posting songs.  I deserve punishment…

Oops.  I said no porn.  Ok.  Here are a couple of songs off of Aladdin Sane, which I’ve always thought of as “Ziggy Stardust, the leftover tracks”.  That may sound snarky, but is actually high praise.  Anything even remotely attached to Ziggy is a gift from God.

Drive In Saturday

Panic In Detroit

 

 


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