Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Handy!



Hey. If anyone's in town, or coming into town, for the big Tom Waits show (August 9th!!!), let me know (jukejoint@gmail.com). I lack the funds and/or corporate sponsorship to host some kind of official Tom Waits pre-show party or whatnot, but I work right around the corner from the Auditorium Theatre and plan on having a few beverages at a nearby drinking parlour to be determined before the big event. Anyone who wants to join in and form a wee unofficial Waits-fest are welcome. Let me know, and I'll get some kind of announcement as the date nears.

Now. Mr. James Hand.

I had a really hard time narrowing down two songs from James Hand's album, The Truth Will Set You Free, to post here. So I cheated, and am giving you three. And, frankly, this is the second best album I've heard all year (more on ole number 1 shortly). I guarantee you're gonna see this album again on this site sometime in late December.

I've spent way too much time bemoaning the lack of great, classic, honky tonk country music being made in these here modern times. Sure, there's plenty of that there insurgent stuff filtering through the haze, some of which I'm quite keen on, but it often has too much of a nudge and wink, we're really punk rock but we like ol' Hank quality to it. Country as an excuse or a clever tool. Some of the current darlings of alt.country(who cares what that is) are so completely bland that they barely make for wallpaper. But James Hand....well, damn. No pretense, no irony, no sly slight of hand (hah! sorry). It's honky tonk country through and through. Perhaps it's his age (53), or four decades of working the bar'n'singing circuit. Regardless, Hand has laid down one of the finest country records I've heard in a long, long while. Writing about music always requires a modicum of hyperbole, but I'm not being coy about this one. This is the real deal, a genuine long player worthy of the wax (aluminum) it's pressed (lazered?) on.

A native Texan and horse trainer(?!?), Hand finely drags the soul of Honky Tonk out of retirement, taking a staid and cliche-ridden form and molding it into something both exciting and uniquely Hand's own. From the creepy, brilliant "Shadows Where the Magic Was", with the refrain "....who can tell what the devil does, when he walks on haunted ground" (Frank's Wild Years fans take note), to the barroom lament of "In the Corner, At the Table, By the Jukebox", and every point between, this album hits on every note, every twang, every lyrical device. If this album had been recorded 30 years ago, we'd be whispering Hand's name in the same sentence as Lefty, Merle and Willie. As it stands, it will probably be lost to diffusion of taste. A fucking shame, really. I'd stand on the streetcorner with a bullhorn if I thought it would send the masses in a frenzy on a James Hand binge. But it'd all be show for nought, alas. Country's not dead, folks, it's hiding. How to wake the sleeping beast, strip it of pretense, and into a new golden age? Well, that last sentence was ridiculous, but that's what Hand's album does to me, sends me shivering and frothing at the mouth. Just when I think country's died on us (skewered by the dreaded "Americana"), Hand redeems an entire genre. He's more than worth your time. I think the word essential is overused. I'm going to apply it, in any case, to Mr. James Hand. It fits.


James Hand: Banks of the Brazos (mp3)

James Hand: In the Corner, At the Table, By the Jukebox (mp3)

James Hand: Shadows Where the Magic Was (mp3)

As ever, when your penny jar gets full, please consider supporting your local, independent record stores. Or buy direct from the artist, or their website.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Video Killed the Juke Box Star



Phew. Got 'em. The Mountain managed to score Tom Waits tickets. Not so spiffy seats, but considering the horror stories I've read about other folks' debacles with Ticketmonster, I'm all a-quiver just to be getting in the door. 'Course I'll rest easier once the tickets are physically in my hands. You've all just been spared a 3 week period of whining and pleading. Nothing like a little obsession. And Waits fans, well, we're a peculiar and slightly possessive lot.

I would be remiss, before hopping off to our music star today, if I didn't note the passing of the genius, and polarizing, Mickey Spillane. If you like your boiled very hard, Mickey's the man for you. One of my favorite writers.

Weldon "Juke Boy" Bonner is one of them fellers that should have been picked up (posthumously) by Fat Possum, before they went all bland garage and "experimental" rock on us, ahem. A thwackin' thumper of a hollering one man band that would rightly school the current crop of pretenders and achievers in the ways of Jesus, the Devil, and the blessed sacrament of dirt floor jukejoint swiveldance fuck'n'sweat. All electric distortion and wheezing harmonica workout, Electric Mud a thousand times over(and don't think Muddy wasn't listening), Bonner's recorded output sounds like the kind of booze-soaked, smoke-clouded, madman, twisted and raw performance kissed away by the homogenisation (BB Kingization?) of blues into the quaint, cliche-ridden, safe for adult contemporary radio dreck we hum along to while driving the kids to soccer practice in our SUV's.

Umm...Ok.

With his harmonica racked tight up to his mouth, and his geetar amp cranked to 11, Bonner must have been a force to reckon with live. Slightly less psycho than Hasil Adkins (I said slightly) and not quite as breast obsessed as Mr. Robert Log, Bonner's a proper blues man in the vein of a T Model Ford, minus any backing help. Maybe two of his album titles, which I pulled tunes from, sum up what you can expect from Bonner: Ghetto Poet and Life Gave Me a Dirty Deal.

"Sportsman's Luck" goes out to our good friend Mr. Cheney. Yep, liberal bias.

Enjoy. Stomp.

Juke Boy Bonner: Psycho Jump No. 1(mp3)

Juke Boy Bonner: Houston the Action Town (mp3)

Juke Boy Bonner: Sportsman's Luck (mp3)

Juke Boy Bonner: Railroad Tracks (mp3)

Juke Boy Bonner: Tired of Greyhound Blues (mp3)

Support your local, independent juke box manufacturer and dealer.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Madcap Sleeps

















Sleep in peace, Syd.

Syd Barrett: Dark Globe (mp3)

Bats in the Belfry



Fire Jim Tracy now. While you're at it Mr. Littlefield and Mr. McClatchy, fire yourselves and give Mark Cuban a shot.

All apologies to those who have no idea what the hell I was just talking about. Call it a case of a frustrated fan's notes, with more apologies to Frederick Exley.

But that makes a swell transition to today's musical treats.

Tonight's the Baseball All Star Game and all it's pomp, ceremony, and self-importance. But I'm still a sucker for it. What can I say? It's a bunch of guys standing around with big sticks, playing with their balls. Wholesome family entertainment. Pills and topical creams included.

So, yes, more baseball songs. I'm not stalling one little bit. This goes out to my good pal Paul, who's originally from Philadelphia, another Pennsylvania city mired in Major League woe. And, of course, props to the greatest baseball player of all, Charlie Brown.

Enjoy.

Del Reeves: The Philadelphia Fillies (mp3)

Marah: Rain Delay (mp3)

King Curtis: Take Me Out to the Ballgame (mp3)

Support your local little league team.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Cowboys Are Secretly Frequently Fond...



Thanks to Willie Nelson and Ned Sublette for helping me out with the title for this post. Brave man, Willie. Or just too old and cussed to give a big redneck damn. Anyhow, that's old news.

It's the day after Indpendence day as I write this, and what could be more American than cowboys and Hollywood? Well, blowing things up would be close, but we skipped the big fireworks display the nite before to attend a nifty little Jello Biafra lecture (Jello did have a bunch of fireworks displayed on the table behind him, so, you know, no question about the man's patriotism). So no pyrotechnics today. Just a little bit about a singing Hollywood cowboy.

Rex Allen, Gene Autry, Hopalong Cassidy, Roy Rogers, and even, unfortunately, Clint Eastwood. All of them can be seen at some point strumming an acoustic guitar and singing wistfully on celluloid. On a horse, by a campfire, or in the bunkhouse. It is the nature of Hollywood to present a fantasy world where we both believe, as the willing suspension of disbelief, in what we see in front of us as truth, but easily toss away as false when emerging from the cavernous theater (womb?) into a colder reality. But there's some truth to the singing cowboy, even if magnified by the silver screen, that notorious herald of myth-making and half-truth. The archetypical measure of masculinity and "don't fence me in" bravado leavened by the sensitive campfire troubadour that would give poor Robert Bly his greatest wet dream probably did not exist but for mythos, but certainly song has carried its weight in the tradition of "mighty male adventure", from the oral tradition and bards of yore to battlefield marches and military hymns of the not so distant past. Not til metrosexual dude ranchers shied away, embarrassed at any form of emotional vulnerability, did the concept of the cowboy campfire singalong get stripped from the shared story of the American West, relegated to old Hollywood serials and quaint remembrance of days past. Or something. Ask Baxter Black or U. Utah Phillips.

Tex Ritter may, very arguably, be the most talented of those Tinseltown tune wranglers. Certainly he's less associated directly with his film work, now, than with his body of song that coincided with, and outlasted, his oater persona. Ritter still clung successfully, after leaving film to focus exclusively on his music career, to his dogie-roping, range-riding cowpoke character, scoring a string of country and western hits before riding off for his final sunset in the mid-70's.

"Hillbilly Heaven" is a name-dropping paen to the golden age of forgotten westerns. "Blood on the Saddle" is an eerie narrative piece. And "High Noon" is, well, yeah, what you think it is.

Tex Ritter is the father of John Ritter.

And, for the record, I'll maintain that the greatest movie cowboy song of all time is "My Rifle, My Pony, and Me" from Rio Bravo and featuring the vocal talents of Dean Martin and Ricky Nelson. But that's for later.


Tex Ritter: Hillbilly Heaven (mp3)

Tex Ritter: (I've Got Spurs That) Jingle Jangle Jingle (mp3)

Tex Ritter: Blood On the Saddle (mp3)

Tex Ritter: High Noon (mp3)

Tex Ritter: Lady Killin' Cowboy (mp3)

Please support your local, independent cowpokes

Friday, June 23, 2006

Doodle Doo Do



Howdy.

Gee whiz, today's my hap hap happy birthday (and stop the presses for this late update: I share my birthdy with JUNE CARTER CASH (RIP)!!!!!!! I'm not worthy. really, I'm not trying to be coy. I'm really not worthy). So, you know, I really want some cake, chocolate if you please. To celebrate we're gonna head out tonite for a little Andre Williams and some burlesque, all under the same roof. What better way to spend the night of your slow demise than with the Black Godfather himself. I'll have a full report later. You know, since I don't post enough about Andre Williams already.

But.

Del Reeves is maybe the second-most famous truckin' troubadour, after Dave Dudley. His song "Girl On the Billboard" is a stone killer classic of lust and wheels. Bless him. Doodle do do. But didja know that Del recorded a whole sleeper cab's worth of non-trucking songs? Yep, shore nuff. Sporting an impeccably twangy baritone, occasionally reminiscent of Roger Miller, paired with the best 60's country chug and lug instrumentation, Reeves weaved like an out of control semi around his tunes, spinning the best bumpkin meets white line fever this side of the musical highway. Reeves never took himself too seriously, never tried to be, say, Johnny Cash, but that's not really the point. Veering dangerously close to novelty, which truck driving songs have been accused, but never sacrificing a good song to goofiness, he threw down some classics, both in and out of the driver's seat. He even had the self-deprecation to mock his own tendency to doodle doo too much (see below). So these are some non truckin' sides for y'all, from a master of the genre, and pretty durned good performer otherwise. Who says I'm just a gear jammin' daddy?

Del also recorded a batch of duets with another Mountain favorite, Billie Jo Spears.

Oh yeah, and keeping with the disturbing trivia of the last couple of posts, Reeves was also partly responsible for getting Billy Ray Cyrus signed to his first record contract. We're trying real hard not to hold it against him. Instead I figger I'll let his songs speak for themselves.

Del Reeves: Gettin' Any Feed For Your Chickens (mp3)

Del Reeves: This Must Be the Bottom (mp3)

Del Reeves: I've Used Up My Doodle Do Do's (mp3)

Del Reeves and Billie Jo Spears: On the Rebound (mp3)

Please, for the sake of the song, support your local, independent businesses

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

New York Secretary's Life



Got some exciting news brewing here at the Mountain (no, I'm not going daily...I have a life, ferchrissakes). But your gonna have to wait a couple weeks. I guarantee (money back if necessary) it will be well worth your time and patience. Keep your eyes peeled.

Today we wanna hear us some Charlie Walker. Another honky tonker with a string of minor, often regional, hits, Walker is probably best remembered, if at all, as a country music DJ back in the 50's, billing himself, according to the Opry link above, as "an ole poke salad, cotton-picking, boll-pulling, corn-shucking, snuff-dipping Charlie Walker." Sounds about right, so far as we're concerned.

As a musician, Walker scored his biggest hit with "Pick Me Up On Your Way Down", and that'd be just about it for chart successess, with a minor hit here and there. CMT's (very) brief assessment of Walker's career is, to be kind, a little unkind. Pity, because a broader take on Walker would show a solid honky tonker with a pretty impressive list of sides that helped define what we think of as being honky tonk now, the classic twang and shuffle songs about dogs, bars, cheatin', lovin', and dancin'. Bear Family, who know a thing or two about obsessive record collecting and archiving, seem to think Walker's a worthy addition to the history of country music. I agree.

As a further note, it appears that Walker was a Mason. So, you know, look for any conspiracy theories where you may in his lyrics.

Charlie Walker: Last Call For Alcohol (mp3)

Charlie Walker: God Save the Queen(of the Honky Tonks) (mp3)

Charlie Walker: Soft Lips and Hard Liquor (mp3)

Charlie Walker: Let's Go Fishin' (The Girls Are Bitin') (mp3)

Please support your local,independent businesses. Thanks for stopping by.

Friday, June 09, 2006

Dirty Blue



Summer in Chicago. Well, not quite summer yet, but it might as well be. The festival season has begun, and nuthin' beats free music. All frakkin' summer long, every damn weekend, from big fests to neighborhood block parties. Shit, this is the city of live music (yeah, I'm talkin' to you New York).

Chicago's annual Blues Fest is this weekend, and while it's scaled back it's allowance of "freelance" performers (I still think the best blues you're gonna hear outside of strongholds like Mississippi jukejoints and back porches, and New Orleans, bless her soul, is found on the street corners and subway stations...some unknown beating out a rhythm on a shitty guitar), we've still got some prime history on tap on the "smaller" stages. I've already got my fix of James Blood Ulmer, Super Chikan, Bobby "Blue" Bland, David "Honeyboy" Edwards, Robert Lockwood Jr., and Homesick James mapped out for the weekend. And that's just the beginning. Each of those, and many more, deserve their own posts, and it'd be prudent for me to feature one of them today.

Instead I'm gonna throw a little Bo Carter your way. There's not a whole lot out there about Carter. He's one of those ghostly, disappeared artists, whispered about but rarely proclaimed. No spot in blues heaven reserved. No 72 virgins. Which is a shame, cuz ole Bo would have loved him some 72 virgin action. Dirty bugger, was old Bo. When mentioned at all, it's his legacy of raunchy, suggestive sides that come of note. He's not the godhead of guitar and/or harmonica magic of, say, a Robert Johnson or Little Walter. Nah, he's a lyrics guy, with a deep-rooted classic(whatever that is) blues voice...lonesome, desperate and keening. Remember, you couldn't really say "I fuck that bitch hard" back in the day. You could, I guess, but you might not get to commit that particular confession to wax it that particular style. Nah, you had to be creative in your sexual braggadocio. Methinks it made for a more creative and entertaining adventure in sound sensations. And that's Bo Carter. A master of the sexual metaphor. Of course you knew(know) what he's talking about. It's just more fun this way. I'm really not sure if anyone did it better, Squeeze My Lemon aside.

For your hot and sweaty summer needs, when we're all tryin' for a piece of action, you can't go wrong with a little Bo Carter. Git to gittin', then.


Bo Carter: Banana In Your Fruit Basket (mp3)

Bo Carter: Don't Mash My Digger So Deep (mp3)

Bo Carter: What Kind of Scent Is This (mp3)

For the love of god, please support your local, independent businesses. If you don't, the terrorists and immigrants will have won.

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Barstool Mountain



I'm back. Actually I was back a couple of days ago, but two nights of free Cubs tickets beckoned. How can one say no to Wrigley Field?

This post goes out to my madman brother-in-law John, who saved my life during my sojourn in Lincoln, Nebraska. Not in the literal sense, but in the "you will not die of boredom while I'm around" sense. From karaoke dive bars in little towns like Sprague (where I performed kick ass drunken versions of "Like a Rolling Stone", "It's the End of the World as We Know It", and "King of the Road", almost joined the locals in a brawl against a gang of "slumming" frat boys, and ended the night politely averting my eyes from a bachelorette party who didn't want to keep their clothes on while doing "I Touch Myself" (well, maybe I peeked once. Or twice)) and Malcolm ("Chug a Lug", "Keep Your hands to Yourself", "...Rolling Stone" again, and $4 dollar pitchers (!) of PBR) to some damn fine bbq and outdoor grilling. Thanks John.

John's a good ole boy in all the best ways, and the man should be a country music star. If he'd just learn to play his guitar. It's his version of "Barstool Mountain" that got me thinkin' it was about time for a Johnny Paycheck post.

I'd recommend checking out Living In Stereo's repost of list entitled 20 Easy Rules for Writing About Country Music The Way the Pros Do It! by Cheryl Cline before reading further It's a really fascinating and drippingly sarcastic treatise on the way country is written about these days.

I mention the above link because Paycheck represents some of the quandaries involved in how folks approach his work. While Paycheck is no David Allen Coe, he's had some, how do you say, issues. And the tendency seems to be to either gloss over or glorify. He was who he was, he made his own decisions, and I'll leave it to the scholarly types to parse his legacy in what way they see fit.

I'm more concerned with his astonishing string of barroom country perfection. A traditionalist with a flair toward the modern rockist side of country, he's the link between "The Fightin' Side of Me" and "Copperhead Road". Merle to the Earle, with a John in the middle. His biggest success, of course, was Coe's "Take This Job and Shove It", but don't let's forget his classic sides throughout the 1960's and 70's, where he followed the George Jones model with a booming twang as pure as mountain dew. Naturally adopted by the "Outlaw" movement for his songs about trouble and drinkin', Paycheck stayed slightly removed, preferring the voice of the "regular folks", less interested in remaking and reinterpreting than in simply making great country music. Period.


Johnny Paycheck: Barstool Mountain (mp3)

Johnny Paycheck: I'm the Only Hell Mama Ever Raised (mp3)

Johnny Paycheck: Fifteen Beers (mp3)

Support your local, independent record stores. If there are any left.

Friday, May 19, 2006

The Other Shoe and the Moon That Rocks




Good gravy. Well, I guess I was asking for that. Before I go further, let me suggest that those uninterested in the following use their scroll bar and zip down to the picture of Moon Mullican. That's the music part of this post. And that music has nothing to do with immigration. I promise to keep the focus here 99% music, but I won't apologize for exercising my right to rant on occasion on whatever I see fit. Feel free to disagree with me, vehemently, but I get cranky when it's dictated what I can or can't say. On my blog. Where I give out free stuff. Again, there's a scroll bar that takes you to the mp3's. There's no gun to anyone's head. Yet.

For those sticking around, thanks.

I'm going to take a moment to address some of the comments on my last post. It seems I've offended quite a few folks, but I'm concerned that perhaps some of the anger directed my way stems more from frustration with the whole issue than with anything I actually wrote. I'm frustrated too. Most of the negative reactions don't seem to really address what I posted. I never once asserted that I was for or against deportation. I merely expressed concern about the rhetoric and some of the more inherent issues involved. If I'm going to take damnation for that, that's fine, let's discuss. But I'm not keen on arguments that have nothing do with anything I said. This isn't the Rush Limbaugh or Al Franken show.

By the way, the shooting I referred to apparently started yesterday.

Now for the rebuttals. If the posters of these comments I'm responding to wish to respond in kind, please do so. I'd like to continue discussing. But I won't be posting any further immigration issues in the main text of this blog. We can continue in the comments, and if it gets overwhelming, maybe we can add a forum somewhere. Who knows? I'm putting their entire comments on, and putting them in bold, so as not to be accused of cherry picking or taking out of context. And I would be remiss if I didn't say a hearty thank you to those who posted comments in support of me (if not in agreement, at least in my right to have opinions).

First up is our friend G-Dub (and I'm seriously thinking of changing my name to B-Clint or N-Chom, or something fun like that). Take it away, dawg:

"I'm tired of being called xenophobic (and often worse) because I believe that immigration should be done legally and with at least some semblance of order"

Great. I agree with you completely. It should be dealt with legally and with order. I'm sorry that you feel that everyone is calling you xenophobic. Why do you think so many are calling you that?

"It's easy to seem compassionate while spewing platitudes about dignity and fairness. But I see nothing but self congratulatory laziness here. Oh yes, you care about the plight of the poor and downtrodden.

No you don't. You care about how you feel about the poor and downtrodden."


Hmm...interesting. Since you've never met me, have no idea what social programs I work with, or how I work my ideas into actual physical action, I can only assume that you're making a congragulatory and lazy assumption about me based on no evidence whatsoever. If you'd ever like to join me for a day, I'd certainly welcome you. Then I can let you discuss my self-congragulatory and lazy nature all you want. How does that "feel" to you?

"If you really gave a shit, would you want to perpetuate a system in which Americans hire people who can't go to the authorities for fear of being deported when they face unsafe working conditions, When they are denied overtime for longer hours, and paid jack squat to start with?
I don't believe in the myth that there are jobs that Americans won't do. There are jobs that Americans won't do unless they are paid a fair wage, but what's wrong with that?"


Again, I agree with you 100% on this. The "system" is severely broken, and immigrants are treated like shit with no recourse for complaint. It seems as if you "feel" strongly about this, so what have you done about it? That almost sounded as if you felt compassion for a minute. Perhaps not, and I'm sorry if I offend you by suggesting it. To reiterate, though, I'm still trying to find the exact moment in which I suggested that the system in place is a good one. I don't believe I did, and as we continue, it seems you're taking a Bill O'Reilly-like form of arguing with me about a point or stance I never made. You need to read more carefully, my friend. Same with the "myth" about jobs that Americans will or will not do. The only reference I made to that was in suggesting that it wasn't an issue, and that I thought the issue went deeper. Are you arguing with me or someone else? I'm not quite sure.

"I grew up detassling corn. It was a right (sic) of passage to midwestern youth when I was a kid. We learned that hard work can be good for you, how to be responsible and to take pride in a hard job well done. I worked for a seed corn company and saw first hand what happened when the shift was made to contract detassling, with the contracts going to migrant workers. They were predominantly illegal and everyone knew it. As a result, the amount they were paid could be kept to a minimum. What were they gonna do... complain to the authorities? I saw the conditions in which they lived. It was wrong to do this. Did the price of seed corn go down for farmers?

You know the answer to that."

No quibble on your points here. Growing up, I worked on my Aunt's and Uncle's farms. It was backbreaking work, often, but the (tired) rewards at the end of the day was worth it. Like you, I learned alot about hard work at an early age. I think the exploitation of farmers and farm labor (legal or non) is another serious issue that we need to discuss as a nation. It's not a sexy one, and so our dear friends in Washington (both sides of the aisle) avoid it like the plague. Again, you refer to the poor treatment of "illegals" as if it was a cause you were concerned about. Interesting.

"It does nothing for anyones' dignity to allow poverty stricken people to come here illegally and work for substandard wages. It's not compassionate. It's cruel and lazy. Cruel, because now there is a class in America that has nowhere to turn when they are abused, forced to work in unsafe conditions and paid jack squat to do it. Lazy, because it's the easy way out. The problem of poverty and corruption in Mexico cannot be solved by exploiting their labor force. "

I feel like I'm repeating myself, but, I must say, you are absolutely correct once again. Is there something I'm missing? What are we arguing about? You have yet to address anything I wrote about. I swear to god, you must have posted your comment on the wrong blog. Oh wait...no, you got the right one. I did use the word dignity, for which you took me to task for, and then keep using yourself. Sigh. Can this get any sillier? By the way, it does nothing to anyone's dignity to exploit the issue for political reasons, either.

"The myth of the job americans won't do now extends into construction, trucking, and other typical "good jobs" that Americans have done for generations. Do you think it cost's less to buy a new house or ship a truckload of goods across country because now there is an illegal alien being exploited by someone? If you do think that, are you happy about it?"

Yes, I'm absolutely ecstatic. I think I made it perfectly clear that I'm all for exploitation. I said it right there..in that one...sentence...oh, well, I can't seem to find it. Come on, man, did you actually read my post before you started writing this?

"Nobody is being served by a corrupt system that depends on bringing in poverty stricken immigrants and paying them jack shit. I for one would be happy to pay more for my tomatoes and lettuce. It won't "wreck the economy" like corporate America claims. Shit, We're paying $70 dollars for a barrel of oil and $3.00 for a gallon of gas. The econmy is still there. At least the added cost of hiring only legal immigrants or American citizens would end up, to a much greater degree, in this country. We all know who's getting rich on $70 oil."

Um. Ok. Sure. Sounds good to me. Is there a point here?

"The problem of poor Mexicans is in Mexico. We are doing nothing to help them with our so-called compassion."

And since we as a nation make it a point never to stick our noses in anyone else's business, there's no way we could ever consider helping out Mexico in ways that would benefit both our countries. Finding solutions is much worse than if we'd just go in a bomb the hell out of them (did I just say that? Yeah, I did...ok, you can rake me over the coals for that one. Because you can't see my tongue firmly implanted in my cheek). And obvioulsy compassion is a terrible thing, too. Actually, it's not, and I'll make no apologies. That's your issue to deal with, not mine.

"If it makes you feel better, call me xenophobic, racist or whatever you want. It's all about your "feelings" isn't it?"

I'm sorry to have to say this, but I think your comments actually do more to solidify my original thoughts than to dispel them. If you could have actually addressed my post rather than some random rant about your "feelings" on the matter, maybe we have turned this into an intersting discussion. As it is, I "feel" as I must move on.

And move on to Commenter #2:

"Love your site. Your musical taste is impeccable. Thanks for the postings - I check you out daily."

Thanks. I try to put up tunes I think folks might like. Sorry that I'm often painfully slow getting up new ones.

"I appreciate your heartfelt comments concerning the immigration debate. I don't agree with most of them but that's OK. For what it's worth - here's my take. First, assimilation is a bitch - a long, arduous process. Always has been, always will be. Second, well the fact that you never see anyone swimming to Cuba means something too."

Yep. So far so good.

"The test of any sovereign nation is that it has borders. You can bash Bush all you want but whomever is President has the responsibility to watch out for the border. Bush proposed an amnesty program, one that many members of his party vehemently disagreed with. His views sure as hell aren't those of Tancredo."

I might suggest that, while they certainly play an important part, borders are merely a piece in the puzzle that comprises a test of a soveriegn nation. And yes, I will bash Bush all I want. He is the president. He asked for this job, and all the criticism that comes with it. If he wasn't so ineffective, he would have the power to advance his own agenda (one which even I must admit he seems to care very strongly about.), rather than that of the extremes in his party. But as it is, and because of his failings elsewhere, he is left with a policy he seems to personally disdain. Unfortunately, that's his fault, and I have every right as a (legal) citizen of this country to point that out. Having lived in Denver for seven years, I certainly agree with you about Tancredo.

"And before you lump all the Republicans into the party of xenophobia, check the history. Which party was the impetus behind Davis-Bacon and what was its original goal? Which party sponsored and promoted all of the major civil rights legislation in the 60's?. Which administration "spied" on Martin Luther King?"

I feel as if I'm constantly repeating myself here, but at what point did I even mention the word "Republican", or single out a particular party? I didn't. You are making an assumption on something that bears out no evidence, so I don't see where this last argument has any bearing on my post. In a self deprecating moment, I confessed to having a political bias, but I did not suggest I had a political party bias. If you must know, I find both "approved" political parties to be filled with spineless, opportunistic money grubbers (the politicians, not the regular folks who do the voting). I voted in the last presidential election, but I did not vote Republican or Democrat (and be careful making an assumption about who I did vote for...there were many availble candidates to chooses from, and my choice remains mine, and mine alone.). It does happen to be that the current president and the majority in Congress happen to be of the Republican persuasion, so I would suppose that it would be difficult to not include them in the discussion, but you really have no basis to assume that if this was a Democrat administration I wouldn't be reacting in the same manner. I "check the history" regularly, and I don't see either party looking particularly spotless at various points along the historical timeline (which is not to suggest that both parties have not done some very good things. Of course they have.). Are you suggesting, since you assumed I was only talking about the Republican party, that you believe these negative apply only to the Republicans? Since you jumped to that conclusion, I might question if you feel that these issues actually apply to the Republicans. Your assumption, then, is more damning than anything I could actually say about the Big Elephant. I would point out, though, that one of the largest opponents to the current rhetoric and legislation on immigration, is also one of the biggest supporters of the Republican party. That would be our Catholic friends. I simply don't believe that this issue runs along party lines. We're completely divided across the board, and, to reiterate, this really demands more discussion and an attempt at a reasonable solution than we are currently investing. If we could only stop thinking in terms of Republican and Democrat...but I'm probably asking too much. We're right back to the "black" and "white", good versus evil, right and wrong thing.

And now, for something completely different.



Moon Mullican was a madman, a piano-pounding, boogie woogie, barrellhousin', country jiving whirlwind, and you betcha Jerry Lee Lewis was paying attention. And he was doing this in the late 30's and 40's, long before rockabilly, rock and roll, and jump party blues came into it's commercial own. Highly influential, if not overtly so, Mullican might be the father of a vast array of musical stylings, but stays in the shadow, the corner of the barroom, pounding and wailing away at the out of tune piano as if it were his demon lover. Yeah, he's that good. Plus, and you can probably see this coming, he's got a fucking great moniker.

Country boppin' rock'n' roll. You need you some Moon.


Moon Mullican: Cherokee Boogie (mp3)

Moon Mullican: Seven Nights to Rock (mp3)

Moon Mullican: Bottom of the Glass (mp3)

I'm heading off to vacation. Be back in a week and a half (Christ, that's about my normal posting rate anyway.) If you leave a comment, I'll try to answer, but I might be short a computer for a while. As ever, support your local independents. Thanks for stopping by, please excuse my spelling and punctuation errors, I was trying to get this out before hopping on the train.