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The chronicles of Ruin, continued. Call me Ishmael said....intelligence is knowing what to do when you don't know what to do. Anonymous said... When I don't know what to do,I come here. 10 September 2009 22:59
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14 comments:
Even a maestro needs a maestro. Except, in this instance, Keith Richards isn't.
Unfortunately no such taped encounters exist bewteen our Keef and Maestro Ry Cooder, the author of Exile on Main Street, Sticky Fingers and Let It Bleed but none of that other rubbish.
You called?
Well, it's a lovely clip, Mr an ex apprentice, but I thought the title, which came artlessly and without guile, might also prove or disprove your continued existence which, happily, it has, bienvenu au monde du rock 'n' roll plagiarastique.
Never been away, Mr Ishmael, from here.
It was never a question of whether you would realise, but when.
Flower-power ain't what it was.
Nor is Rock and Roll. Try this.
Chuck is humouring him like a child. A very, rich spoiled and untalented child.
Art.
Meanwhile people sell Michael Jacksons pubes on Ebay.
Glad to see you're still alive, Lilith, and looking like a saint. I was going to post that, it's great, as one of my rock 'n' roll studies, number 4 or 5; I think I mentioned the film at your place, a while back; it is very revealing. More on Charles Edward Berry later. But not Keef
Life's hard enough for me, Mr an ex apprentice, what with stanislav coming and going as he pleases, the government to bring down and dog, Buster, getting too old, not to mention being the only non-presbyterian bastard for miles around without this place turning into a wilderness of mirrors. Or daisies. Are ya blogging anywhere?
Dear Mr Old Holborn
I'm gonna write a little letter, gonna mail it to my local dee-jay.
Chuck's stuff is like Stephen Foster's or Shakespeare's - it is so there that one forgets that somebody wrote it; Michael Jackson's, no matter how loud and insistently they shout, isn't.
81 years old
I repeat 81 years old
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qaaeUuHHBHg
Dear Mr Ishmael,
No, my blogging days are done. I never thought I had that much worth saying, really, and to tell you the truth I always felt somewhat uncomfortable having my own blog.
I'm far happier hanging out here, from time to time, incognito, so to speak, if that's all right with you.
That's a shame, Mr an ex apprentice, everybody has something worth saying. I used to like going there, far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife.
The Fat Man. Fats Domino.
1949. This is the beginning as far as i see.
I think, Mr LFG, there were a few people doing that stride piano thing, on both sides of the pond; you are probably right and many would dagree that he was the most influential at the time, not sure that he was a true original,as, in several ways, was Chuck Berry.
In no known format do I own a Chuck Berry record but i don't feel I need to, he's everywhere, can't say the same abour Fats.
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