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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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- HATE NOTHING AT ALL EXCEPT HATRED.
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9 comments:
He's a bit of a one-trick pony, mr seasick, but that doesn't matter since Jools Holland likes him. I have no time for his down-home, poorboy can't-afford-guitar-strings act - he lives in fucking Norway, anyway. This, though, is workmanlike, moving, even, in its way.
Hank Williams could certainly write a nice love song but that hicuppy, tearjerking way of his in performance. No, you can have my share of that. If you want musical hiccups, Buddy Holly's your man.
I'll have your bit of Hank then, Mr Smith.
Chloral hydrate, morphine, a bottle of Wild Turkey and some beers in the back of a Cadillac, that's the way to go.
The day the music died? Aye, right.
Been listening to him for years, off and on,mr tnp, and I only just realised that it's the songs I like - in a mawkish way - and not the singer. Contrast his Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain, just for instance, woth Willie Nelson's, you'd have to agree........wouldn't you?
My folks were never that musically adventurous in the 50's – the usual Jimmy Shand's, but I'd spend a lot of time in the prefab next door where the young newly-weds had a Westie, a radiogram and high pile of 78s.
Many have done the songs great justice including Injun Bill and Hank Jnr., but like some lonesome whistle from a distant past, I still find it hard to separate the songs from the voice.
You should also check out The Residents' 'Stars and Hank Forever' from their American Composers series. Their version of Kaw-Liga is a real eye-opener. You'll hate it.
I've got tickets for their 'Wonder of Weird' Barbican show on Saturday.
A nice bit of "pickin" by a vocal shredded wheat,
Not bad, but Kris Kristofferson really does the mournful bit with his "Sunday morning" song. He must have been really depressed when he wrote that one.
Third luckiest man alive, Kristoffersonson, after Ringo Starr and Johnny Cash, one of those miraculously talentless wonders. Coupla good songs, Me and Bobby McGhee and Sunday Mornin', Comin' Down and Hey! Presto, a lifetime in country showbiz, drugs an groupies and everything. 'Fraid I loathe him, mr ot.
The 'fifties for me are always the Everlys and Buddy Holly that's country enough for a young city boy.
What I like about this seasick version is that just anyone could play that, in that style. I could teach anyone to play that, even if they'd never touched an instrument, I could teach them in a couple of days, it's a couple of two-finger shapes in an open tuning, couldn't be simpler, and yet it works, near perfectly.
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