Pre Amble:
Arts samples from the far ends of the wild blue yonder! A down to earth information dump with weekly features of various creatures. Not necessarily inspired by Billy Idol’s “rebel yell,” but not a long walk therefrom! There are stories to tell and forgotten legends who knows? The song of the week takes a peak into your world. Video visits to architectural wonders. The voice of Dizzy Gillespie and the Banana Man’s visit to Captain Kangaroo in 1957. It’s things like that. The entirety of Carla Bley’s “Escalator Over the Hill.” Photos, poems, pictures of pizzas. Origami. I’m not sure where this goes but having you along for the ride is essential. Record covers and haikus, the self-directed tour of Jack Kerouac’s Lowell, MA. Can’t let the trove of treasures die in the upstairs den. Flirtations with the fabulous. A place in place for statements entire. The whole of John Coltrane’s “A Love Supreme.” An image of Dylan Thomas from before he got dumb enough to divorce his wife Caitlin. Once it starts it gets like an amazed train experiencing the direct joy of its own motion. You’ll see. Every Sunday morning during 2022 the ship of our states gets a plunk of glory. All right then. we go!
“When I concentrate on a specific site or place for which I am going to design a building, I try to plumb its depths, its form, its history and its sensuous qualities.””
Live version of a piece from these sisters 2017 record “Not Dark Yet.” They pulled this majestic one through a history of personal tragedy. Asking perhaps if never getting to the other side of grief is its basic definition.
“The Color of a Cloudy Day
by Jason Isbell and Amanda Shires
Gray
Gray
The color of a cloudy day
On the wind I heard you call my name
On the wind I heard you call my name
On the wind I heard you call my name
On the wind I heard you
Gone, and everything I did wrong, it don’t add up to this
Lost, and I measure the cost in years without a kiss
Entire lives I missed
Red
Red
And I thought those old questions were dead
Every night I saw you close your eyes
Every night I saw you close your eyes
Every night I saw you close your eyes
Every night I saw you
Deep
Deep
I used to visit you in my sleep
Now I can never find you in my dreams
I can never find you in my dreams
I can never find you in my dreams
I can never find you in my dreams
I can never find you in my dreams
I can never find you in my dreams
I can never find you in my dreams
I can never find you
In the early 80’s I found this picture of life- long construction laborer Clifford Eubanks, of Camden, N.J., from an A.P. wirephoto. He was 76 at the time. Those are the hands of time.
In the January issues of “Paraphernalia Springs” we’ll take a look at notable lps unleashed during 2021
“The thing about revolutionary love is to not roll over and accept the bad actions of your opponents, but it is to continue feeling compassion and curiosity for how they got to where they are. And from that relationship, I think you can draw people closer to the truth if they are falling for the lies.”
When he plays like this you just want it to go on forever. It just hits a meaning in you.
One side of an impossibly well crafted Christmas single of sonic weight, endearing confessional lyrical poignance and impressionist guitar loopery. It just does.
And through the year we will try to track the insatiable array of hats which Thelonious Monk (known by his wife as Melonious Thunk) trotted out wardrobically.