Monday, September 26, 2016

Friday, September 16, 2016

Let's Face It

It's STILL Sunday?

(Written by the mighty, mighty Difford & Tilbrook, back when that meant something...)

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Such A Small-Town Rodeo

Ian F*cking Hunter.

77 Years Old. Tribute to Bowie.

What's not to love?




And one from the past:

Tuesday, August 30, 2016

We Are the Makers of Music, We Are the Dreamers of Dreams...

Conversation overheard at a coffee shop yesterday:

-- It's really sad about Gene WIlder. But it's spooky too because I just heard his song on the radio yesterday.
-- Which song?
-- "Friday I'm in love."
-- They play that every Friday.
-- Yeah, but yesterday was Sunday. And then he died.
-- He was so great in "Blazing Saddles."
-- Was that before the Cure?
-- Maybe. They talked about a lot of stuff he did on the news, but they didn't mention that.
-- I'm happy for Gilda Radner, though.
-- I wonder if she liked "Friday I'm in Love."
-- Maybe he wrote it for her.
-- Yeah, probably.
-- And "Young Frankenstein."
-- I don't know that song.

And at that point I left. Because after determining that these people somehow believed Gene Wilder and the lead singer for the Cure were the same person, I worried the stupid might be contagious.

Thursday, July 28, 2016

The Airwaves They Took Me


So many late nights. Listening. In the dark. Under the covers.

Missives coming in from miles away.

Longing and loss and jangly guitars.

So much information in a quick hiccup of a vocal.

So many who wanted exactly, exactly what was offered.

So many dark nights. Driving and wishing.

The radio pointing me home. Even when I wasn't sure what home even meant.

The radio sharing cold haunting visions. And warm sparkling thunderous scenes you might never reach.

And, beneath it all... love.

Love and the promise of love were all you needed.

And a tank of gas.

And a vague sense of direction.

Because before satellites and GPS devices in your phones, there was only the vague sense.

And a way to follow. A way to go.

It wasn't always the quickest way. It definitely wasn't always the right way.

But as long as you had the radio with you, it was a way that got you somewhere.

And that got us everywhere.