The Music Project, Pt. 4

I have a very warm, fuzzy, special place in my heart for Janis Joplin, and with all due respect to Big Brother and the Holding Company and The Kozmic Blues Band, she finally got the musicians she deserved - The Full Tilt Boogie Band - on her swan song, "Pearl." According to legend, Janis was going to come back to the studio, after a short break, and put a vocal track on "Buried Alive in the Blues," but died in the interim. I think that dollop of rock and roll lore smacks of apocryphilia. (Is that a word?) The track sounds like a perfect instrumental, to me. I've always wanted to sing "Half Moon," live, but I never got the chance. I love you, Pearl.
I'm sorry, Genesis fans. I know that "Wind and Wuthering" is where a lot of you lost interest, but it's the only Genesis album I need. Just check out the bitter-sweet whimsy of "Blood on the Rooftops." It makes me feel so sad, but you know, in a good way.
"Are you ready, Steve? ("Uh huh.") Andy? ("Yeah.") Mick? ("Ok.") Alright, fellas - LET'S GOOOOO!!!" Side 1 of Sweet's "Desolation Boulevard" consists of ooey-gooey, sticky sweet Chinn and Chapman "glam rock hit machine" power pop. On side 2, the boys try stepping out on their own, with delicious, hard rocking results.
I looked long and hard to find Focus' "Hamburger Concerto" on CD. It contains the follow-up to "Hocus Pocus": "Harem Scarem." Amazing musicianship from Jan Akkerman, Thijs Van Leer and the boys. Yep, they're from Holland.
"Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" is, without a doubt, my favorite Elton John album. Four sides (on vinyl) of incredible songwriting and playing. Every song on here could have been a hit.
The Zappa cover pictured below is a Double CD of "Overnight Sensation" and "Apostrophe." "Apostrophe" is my favorite, with "ONS" coming in a hard second. I miss Frank. He was a true original and a musical genius.
Experience the pinnacle of the Mahavishnu Orchestra. "Visions of the Emerald Beyond" feels like a mystical journey. Take a Jazz-fusion fueled carpet ride.
Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" feels like a journey, also - an excursion into the murkiest recesses of the human soul. At least it's comforting to know you are not alone on this voyage.
I could have listed Eno's first 4 solo albums here - all of them classics. On "Here Come the Warm Jets," Eno displays his penchant for quirky, quasi-prog-rocking melodic noise, while keeping his tongue planted firmly in cheek - which was probably his saving grace.

 

The Music Project, Pt. 3

I grew up on white-boy blues. Later, I went back to find out where they got it from. But, the way I look at it, it doesn't matter what you look like, or where you come from, you either have the blues in you or you don't. ZZ Top has it. "Tres Hombres" is packed with great songs, and some of the dirtiest blues guitar ever. Own it, if for no other reason than "La Grange."
Robin Trower is one of my all time favorite axe slingers. The man can play one sustained note and almost make me cry. I could list 5 or 6 of his albums here, but I had to go with "Bridge of Sighs." He should be as famous as Hendrix and Stevie Ray. And HE'S still ALIVE and making music.
I don't think a week goes by that I'm not singing something from "Jesus Christ Superstar." Often, it's in the shower (for some reason). Some interesting trivia: Paul Raven (aka Gary Glitter) had a small part as a priest. Murray Head (Judas) had a hit with the song, "Superstar." He had another hit, in the 80s, with "One Night in Bangkok," a tune from the musical, "Chess," which was written by "JCS" lyricist Tim Rice and the 2 guys from Abba.
My favorite musical.
I can't tell you what an influence Edgar Winter was on me. "Roadwork" is a very live document of his band, the legendary White Trash - one of the most talented, white-boy (no one is whiter than the Texas albino brothers Edgar and Johnny Winter) blues/gospel/rhythm and blues bands ever. I'm, generally speaking, not a jam person, but "Tobacco Road" - all 17 minutes and 13 seconds of it - is the stuff.
My vote for greatest Prog Rock band ever: YES! "Fragile" features my favorite line-up: Anderson, Howe, Squire, Wakeman and Bruford. This music is so inventive, and remains oddly fresh.
Eddie Van Halen was a true innovator. He changed the way we look at rock guitar in much the same way as Hendrix did. Van Halen's self titled debut remains my favorite. Great songs, great production (by Ted Templeton) and amazing playing.
Bonnie Raitt once said that AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" was the perfect distillation of guitar, songs and vocals. Or something like that. Anyway, I agree. RIP, Bon (Scott).
The Coop warped me early on with "Killer." I remember, as a kid, taking my cassette player away from the house - and my mother - to revel in the freakiness of Alice's vision. Whenever I feel the need to show someone what rock and roll is, I play them "Under My Wheels." As far as I'm concerned, Alice Cooper is doing the lord's work.
Craving some Power Pop perfection? (Aren't we all?) Drop Cheap Trick's second outing, "In Color and Black and White" - and crank it up. It's sheer bliss.

 

The Music Project, Pt. 2

I could list nearly all of Bowie's stuff, but "Diamond Dogs" is the album that made me a fan. (A BIG fan, as mentioned in an earlier post.) David's raw guitar juxtaposed against Mike Garson's deliciously decadent, over the top, cabaret piano stylings, resulted in a moody classic - that rocks.
The Dolls were one of the greatest rock and roll bands, ever. The combination of Stones style rock and the trashy, tongue-in-cheek half-drag (as Wayne County used to call it) image resulted in pure Noo Yawk dynamite! And you gotta love "Killer" Kane on the cover. Produced by Todd Rundgren.
"Berlin" was supposed to be a huge deal, with lots of respected musicians and Bob Ezrin producing, but Lou was on a downward slide. It wasn't the big breakthrough Ezrin expected, but once they managed to prop Lou up in front of a mike, they created this seamy masterpiece. I've played it over and over, through the years, after messy break-ups.
"Joyous" best describes "The Slider." As with Bowie, Lou (with or without the Velvets) and the Dolls, I could jam most of Marc's stuff in here. Expansive production from Tony Visconti, along with the exuberant backing vocals of ex-Turtles Flo and Eddie, make this particular slide a wonderful experience. I love T.Rex! 'Nuff said.
ALL HAIL GLAM ROCK!!

 

The Music Project, Pt. 1

These are the first 4 real albums I ever bought. Beatles, Bette, Zep, Sabbath - in that order. I say first "real" albums, because I had previously purchased some of those compilation albums from K-Tel and Ronco. You know, the ones advertised on television:
"Dynamite" (22 explosive hits).
"Believe in Music" (20 of today's top hit songs).
I could put almost all of the Beatles' stuff on this list, but "Let It Be" was my first (Beatles and/or rock) album, and their last (at least in terms of release), and it has a special place in my heart. The Beatles wanted it to be raw (see: "Naked"), but it was hijacked by that crazy genius Phil Specter (see: "End of the Century" by the Ramones) and sweetened with strings and an angelic chorus. The result is a strange, dichotomous, compelling album.
A 13 year old boy, in the early 70s, in a small, rural town in North Carolina, falling in love with "The Divine Miss M?" There should have been red flags everywhere. I was too young and naive to understand all of the hoopla and implications at the time. I just knew that Bette was fabulous. And she remains DIVINE. An iconic album for gay men of "a certain age."
"Led Zeppelin II" was one of my earliest forays into hard rock. This album, recorded all over the US, while the band constantly toured, has never disappointed me, in 37 years of listening. You can feel the confidence of a band gelling on this one, but there's also a primal sense of urgency. A desert island pick.
Ok, Zeppelin whetted my cravings for noise, but where do I go from here, I asked myself? "Paranoid" was the logical next step. Black Sabbath was the baddest, noisiest band in existence, at that time. Gleefully shadowy and "evil," "Paranoid" is like a bad dream that you're digging too much to awaken from.
As you can see, I'm already all over the place musically.

 

The Music Project.

As I mentioned, in an earlier post, The Bulbs of Glacier Lilies may be wrapping up soon. I've posted writings, photos, letters and artwork from various eras of my life - and while it may not be comprehensive, it's a decent generalization of a larger picture. But now, I feel like I want to start fresh, with fresh material.
One thing I think I need to focus on, before moving on, is music. As cliched as it sounds, music has saved my life many times. As far back as I can remember, music has been the heart and soul of me. So... I'm going to do a series of albums that have changed my life. These will be the ones that I still love as much as I did the first time I heard them. Music that has played in my head for years and years. Again, comprehensive? I don't think that would even be feasible, but I'm going to try to hit on all of the biggies - mainstream and otherwise.
Ok, I've set myself up for a project. Here goes...

Here's hoping.

Goodnight world. May tomorrow be a better day.

Humbled.

I felt better yesterday than I have in ages, so I tried to get some things done - and I actually accomplished quite a bit - but I woke up this morning feeling like I might have to go to the ER. I even called my sister, just so someone would know about that possibility. My blood pressure was about 50 points higher than normal. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. My arms began to tighten and tingle. My head ached. I felt sick and fuzzy.
I drank some vinegar, took an enteric aspirin and went back to bed. After no appreciable improvement, I broke an Enalapril into quarters and took a piece. Eventually, my blood pressure subsided a bit.
I called the pharmacy about some refills. I asked the person on the line about the prices of my 3 meds. She rattled off the individual prices so fast that I couldn't compute the information. I asked her to give me a total price and she said, in a snappy tone, "Didn't you write down what I just told you?" She then went on to tell me that they were busy and she didn't have a calculator handy. I said thank you and hung up. You would think that these professionals would be highly aware that they are often dealing with sick and cloudy minded people.
After 3 failed attempts, I gathered myself together enough to go to the pharmacy, not even knowing if I had enough money for my meds. Also, my gas needle was on empty. It stays on empty these days. I drove in a haze, trying not to panic.
While I was waiting for the pharmacy technician to check the 2 discount cards I had with me - one of which was turned down the last time I tried it, even though I called the help number and they told me my pharmacy chain was included on its list - I began to notice all the folks in the pharmacy area, waiting for help. Most of them were older than me. A woman, maybe 60 years old, had on a pair of granny jean shorts, elastic at the waist and ballooning over her belly. Her hair was cut in a style that was totally unbecoming to her. It was as if she was holding onto a hairstyle of her youth. But, it no longer worked for her. Poor thing.
The men wore shorts and sandals. They attempted, for the most part, to maintain THEIR youthful hairstyles, with generally sad and dismal results. I guess I understand men better than women, so I could see how they were aware of their fading machismo. The cock of the walk turned old, soft and grey. Aching and ineffectual. No longer at the peak of their game, but struggling to maintain a manly image. I realize that I fit in with them. It's as if you don't know another way to be and by the time you figure out a new strategy, IF you figure it out, it's too late. Game over. It's a shock when you come to the realization that your few short years of "immortality" have ended. And, guess what? It seems you're mortal after all.
It's all so depressing and ridiculous. Humanity doesn't know its place in the world. We're a conflicted bunch.
The only thing I can cling onto is compassion. "Shared passion" for my fellow traveler. We are all, every one of us, clowns - sad, absurd, bumbling, sublime and beautiful in our ineptness.

My ex-wife. End of 1990.

I turned 30 in September of 1990. About 2 months later, I was hospitalized. The doctors tested me for everything imaginable before finally diagnosing me with Polyarteritis Nodosa and Henoch Schonlein Purpura.
B. and I were already divorced at this point. I took this photo of her from my bed. She's posing with my bedpan.

 

The end: Is it nigh?

For The Bulbs of Glacier Lilies? Yeah, probably.
I've been at this for the past 16 months. I've published almost 850 posts in that time. It may be time to move on.
My friend Chuck once told me that it was only a matter of time before the online community found my blog - but other than him, only 2 or 3 people have ever commented on anything. But that's not why I did this, anyway. In the last few years I have gone through a break-up, unexpectedly lost my job, wrecked my car and had numerous health issues. I'm still dealing with the consequences of these various calamities. This blog has served as a means of catharsis, an artistic outlet, as well as allowing me to document a partial history of my life - such as it is (or was). It has been therapeutic.
There are a million things about me that I haven't covered here, but I think The Bulbs of Glacier Lilies has presented a pretty good overview of my life. It informs the reader (whomever he or she may be) of my personal experience:
This is who I am.
This is where I came from.
This is how I believe.
This is what I think.
These are some things I made.
These are some of the people who shaped me, in some way.
It confirms that:
I was alive once.
And maybe I mattered to some people.
It's the closest thing to immortality that I'm capable of. So, it has not been a small accomplishment at all. At least in my mind.
Will I carry on elsewhere? Sure! I'm rather excited about creating a new platform from which to issue ALL NEW material. But, for now, I'm going to try to wrap things up with a few more postings. I probably won't hit 900, though...

Waiting for rain.

I'm sitting here, at my desk, waiting for rain. The weather guy said there was a good chance tonight. That's good news. We haven't had more than a sprinkle in months - several long, extremely hot, summer months. My yard is brown and crunchy. My plants are dying.
I dragged a big area rug out and hoisted it on top of the car. After years of wear and tear (and pets), it needs a good soaking.
C'mon rain!
It's not just rain I'm waiting for. It seems as if I'm at a juncture where all I can do is wait. Everything in my life is on hold. I have a lawyer appointment, a doctor visit and a possible medical procedure coming up.
I'm waiting.
There's no telling when I'll hear from the Social Security office about my benefits appeal.
Waiting. Checking the mail.
I spoke in previous posts about "the ghost." She (yes, it's a she) may, or may not, come to visit, at the end of the month, with grown sons in tow.
Waiting.
I've applied for some assistance from Social Services.
I'm waiting on that. (Hang on - just one more week.)
Waiting. Sitting in Limbo. (I know how you feel, Jimmy Cliff.)
Clouds.
Thunder.
Still no rain.
I'm waiting.

Letter from my friend Gerg. Pt.4.

What about people? Do we have something going on there also? I was thinking about you a day before you came to this house. Oh well, maybe it just happened by accident, but I'm not sure.
But I do know that I can change my thoughts about a situation, person or thing and I will feel different about it. But it's sometimes very hard to do it in order to be more positive or whatever. Oh yeah it also came across something in relation to that kind of thought stuff. You know that I have studied in detail the subject of cosmic awareness. Well I seem to have run across the formula, so to speak. Part of it is tuning out the world and thoughts about everything we mostly think about and just feeling self, or experiencing self. It's hard to do but sometimes easy. I guess all the exercises are really there to get better at not thinking about normal things. My personal experience however hasn't been one of a great dramatic experience. Just a sense. Of course in the past I have had some wild ones but this is different, it seems to be more grounded or stable. Let me give you their explanation as to what it should be like and you can try it if you like. Of course I'm giving along with it my personal interpretation or technique. They say the experience is like being everything but not feeling as if you are any particular thing. It's like being everywhere but not really in any particular place. And personal identity is for a time lost. I think there are different degrees of each part of the experience and sometimes it happens by itself. Like when I'm falling off to sleep. But also there is a full experience. Or maximum of it. To me this is very satisfying, but it's not a kind of thing that gets old. It really feels timeless. Anyway, I was going to give you my particular way of doing it, ok. Since everything in nature and man can be reduced to one energy, I just allow myself to be in tune by centering my THOUGHTS on that idea, and it seems to work. Just think one that's it. But the thing about all of this is that they are very good at keeping the formula hid. There's a lot of beating around the bush. And just like you if I was to call anyone who was in the organization and describe what it did to you, they wouldn't give me a clear answer as to if what I'm saying is true or not in connection with the concept they hold.
I made a boo boo. I didn't change the subject like I said I was earlier in this letter. Sorry about that. I guess I must be a boring person. So what I will do is let you finish this letter, so it won't bore you much longer. Of course this may not be true, I don't know.
Well, call me, if you want.
Make some time to get up and do the ritual if you wish. We could go beat some people up or something, and be red necks for a time. But make sure you have some Jack Daniels and a truck. And a gun. Can't go without that stuff, now can we? Oh yeah, make sure you're from the south also.
See you when I see you.
Bye.
Later.
Farewell.
I'm gone.
See you.
Sincerely,
Gergel Box

Jim,
Tell me if I seemed to repeat myself in this letter. I looked it over and I'm not sure.
Thanks.
Gergel Box

Letter from my friend Gerg. Pt.3.

"Indiana Jones." It's a good show, are you watching it? Could be better.
Anyway, if you are wondering, this letter is being wrote a little at a time over a few days, that's why the ink is lighter, not that the pen is running out but that I have switched pens on you. At this time I'm looking for your address. I won't be able to send this if it isn't found, so why am I still writing? Self answers back and says, "Because you just are." "Remarkable," I say back to self. So give me a minute. I will be looking for your address...................
Alright, I'm back. I'm even backer that that. So back that it's an absolute back, which by definition would be a back that came from nothing since it couldn't relate to any other back that ever was or could be! EYEBROWS words like BACK. Strange if you really notice them in the way some people would, like me.
Ok, a new thing. Do you ever notice how you feel when certain people are around you, mostly those who want to cause you mental problems? Or they just have a personal problem they want to dump on you? I'm finding that if you just look at them and say you won't take it, it sometimes works. Of course there are those who never change. The negative attitude. But on the other hand it all depends on what you define as negative. I have to keep reminding myself almost every day that my thoughts create my reality. What I mean by that in this particular instance (are) the long term effects of thoughts. Anyway, thoughts can be so powerful sometimes, it's wild. I don't know if you have noticed it but to me they are. They are something of a force, they must have some kind of affect on matter, but the action of them must be limited to a certain frequency because if I try to move a house with my thoughts I don't get very far. On the same note, however, they change the way I relate myself to the house. If this is so then what else is going on? One of my monographs early in my lessons used an example of a light switch being turned off or on. The signal, whatever it was, could be detected across the street INSIDE the other house, by whatever device they used. They say that thinking or thought itself has a similar trait.
Could 1984 come true?

(Comments: "EYEBROWS words like BACK." That's some sort of ill-worded Gerg-ism tangent. While I have tried to impose some order here and there for the sake of readability, I was unable to do anything with that line. It is what it is. He's obviously riffing on a thing I used to do with the word "back." As in, "I'm back. In fact, I'm backer than ever!" It originated with a line from a Creem magazine article, but we soon expanded the concept in the crazy free-form way in which we conversed with each other. We sure had a lot of fun...)

Letter from my friend Gerg. Pt.2.

So far I have (written) about me, and maybe wrote something untrue about thinking, so I'm moving to something else now. Here I go. I'm getting closer. Ok, am I there yet? Alright, I'm there. Good. So what is going on with you? Are you having fun? Do you feel good? What are your plans? Are you staying here in this area forever? How long is forever? Can we be forever? Am I asking silly questions? I can answer that. Yes is the answer. But wait, Jim, can I buy a vowel? "Ding" good choice Gerg, but it will cost you! Well you might can have everything, but I (can't). "Ding" again. "You got it. You're our lucky prize winner!!! Vanna tell the man what he has won."
Sorry about that. I sometimes get nutty.
So are you ever going to get up with me to do that ritual? If we do and there is more than two people, I will try to be more detached. Oh well that's not so important. So are you still in a band? "There's a hole in my heart" ect, ect. Or is that ETC? For some reason I'm not sure. That's a good tune, when you make it a record send one to me. I would like that, even if it's only one song. Make a copy, good idea? I have no idea as to (how) you interpret all this stuff, so be patient. Read again what seems cryptic and even ask me about any problem in this letter. I'm saying all that just to be sure. I know there is much going on, that misunderstandings can happen at any moment.
I'm not sure that I understand what I wrote here. Anyway, I want to get together. I miss you to a degree, is that good?

Letter from my friend Gerg. Pt.1. (Written after the death of our friend Mike.)

(Sorry about this letter being on one subject. I will try to find something new next time.)

Jim,
Thought I would write since I can't seem to get in contact any other way. I don't mean that in any way other than stating it as material limitation. Anyway, I wrote two other letters, one about Mike, but I read it over again and decided that it wasn't needed. I'm sure you already know how I feel about it, the same as you do. So that's why I'm not writing much about it. I don't know if there really is a reason for it. I feel that it served no purpose and is unfair. Which reminds me of the Landscaper. Yes he is still setting up conditions, which when involve myself, (aren't) what is correct for me. So I have decided once and for all time, to let him know how things will be when I'm included, otherwise I won't be there. They have other friends so losing my presence won't bother them much. All of these problems of different kinds serve me to help me become more resistant to (what) the world gives out, which of course at the time and some time after affect me in such a way that I will experience fraudulent data. Or in other words dualistic thoughts, separate realities which makes me feel as if I'm cut off, but slowly but surely I'm coming to the NON DUAL experience. It doesn't last too long but I can come to some better understanding of our world. This particular experience is very helpful because the self is expanded, so no matter how much misunderstanding from others and by myself of course, there is, things go better. It centers about this, I am, therefore I think, which is the reverse of the norm. And this is because, first we are what we think, so if we become what we think and what we think isn't true, then how can it be said that we really thought or created ourselves in a way that would give us a sensible reality? Anyhow, this is rather complex for me to talk about, so I will move on to something different.

My friend Gerg.

I worked with Greg (aka "Gerg") at the Western Steer restaurant, for about 6 years. He was a most unusual guy. In fact, it took me a while to "get" him. At first he seemed like a nut - and maybe he was a nut - but there was another level to him. He was intelligent (in spite of his often "tunnel visionary" mind-frame) and meek. Oddly spiritual and funny. Naive - in the best sense of the word. And just down right silly. Hey, we were all a bit nutty at the Steer.
He lived with his mother and step-father, even though he was in his 30s. The house was a neat-freak's nightmare. A dark, decaying abode of psychotic hoarding. There was a slim path that wound through the house into Greg's bedroom. In his room - it was more of the same. Crowded and stifling. Blankets nailed over the window.
Greg, me and another one of his friends, "Landscaper," were in his room, one day, getting high. Landscaper was going on about how Greg should clean his room up. I told him that what the place needed was a good coat of FIRE.
Greg had been married, at one point, and had 3 kids! This blew my mind. I couldn't imagine him having anything like a normal life. I mean, he didn't even drive. No car. No license. It must have taken everything he made at the restaurant to pay his child support.

The next few postings will consist of sections of a long letter Greg wrote me in March, 1992.

Like the Bulbs of Glacier Lilies.

Like the bulbs of Glacier Lilies, my heart bursts forth. Fragile, bathed in the rays of the sun - as magical and archetypal a rebirth as anything in mythic tales.
You do this to me.
My poor heart has been buried in the cold, hard, rocky substratum, waiting for a Spring unpromised.
There is life yet in this broken organ - this untidy symbol of (dare I say it?) love.
You do this to me.
I tell you this not to cause any sense of obligation. You shouldn't have any. (It would be sad if you did.)
I tell you this not to see you react. (Although, a positive reaction would open the flood gates, I'm afraid.)
I tell you this not having expectations. (But, of course, I secretly do.)
Like the bulbs of Glacier Lilies, my life (with its hope and concerns) explodes, like golden fire-birds on delicate stems.
Yes, there's life among the ruins - scattered over this craggy hillside - hopefully not just breakfast for ravenous Grizzlies.
You. Do. This. To. Me.

ZAPPA

"Stupidity has a certain charm. Ignorance does not."

 

Jim: A man and his microphone (Shure SM 58).

This was taken at a Christmas Jam, 2005.
Note one of my paintings in the background.

 

My two sisters and my brother. (1940s)

 

My dad, my two sisters and, possibly, Annie, the mule. (1940s)

Or, the horse my dad traded for my brother. Well, that's how he put it. He actually sold the horse to pay for the hospital bills when my brother was born.