Harmony Park

As a young person I attended the First Baptist Church of Clarks Grove, Minnesota, where my namesake grandfather was the pastor at one time. In the 19th century before the big church was built, outdoor services and baptisms were held north of town at the Narrows of Geneva Lake. Times have changed. The beautiful oak wooded peninsula is now Harmony Park, a campground/outdoor music venue where neo-hippies gather to listen to music, laze in the sun watching the pelicans wheel across the sky, and smoke their herbs in peace. A few years ago I went out one beautiful Saturday afternoon to kickback and listen to Bela Fleck and the Flecktones. I looked at the gentle people smoking, drinking and dancing in the late afternoon sunshine and thought, "Damn, those old dead Baptists gotta be rolling in their graves". For them I threw in the Flecktone's bassist Victor Wooten playing Amazing Grace.







This is irritating as hell, the yuppies trying clap along with a improvised jazz piece. They couldn't clap on the backbeat on a bet. Why on God's green earth would they have the balls to think they know where Victor Wooten wants to go with this piece. All they can do is distract him and screw things up. He ranted.

Hurt.

...but I will post John Cash.

The Kings of Leon

Years ago I introduced a nephew to my sometimes quirky taste in music, launching him down a long, slippery slope. Eventually his living room became a killer listening room with a high-end audio setup and nicely framed LP covers from John Cash's American Recordings on the walls. (Of course after his marriage, fatherhood, and "decorating" all that went to hell.) Two days ago he posted his schedule for the Austin City Limits Music Festival that he and his lady will be attending in early October. One of the acts he had checked off was The Kings of Leon. By chance the young lads did three numbers on the Today program this morning. Now I realise I'm a little older and tastes differ, but it was simply brutal, almost embarrassingly bad. The music was poorly conceived and incompetently played. The young crowd pushing on the street barricades loved it. This musically opinionated old goat will not be posting any of their music.

Country Mavericks?

I was going to post a couple of The Mavericks playing Country, but I got sidetracked. The first is obviously a take on Dwight Yocum. On the second Raul is at least wearing a cowboy hat and maybe there's a little pedal steel, enough to offend my baby, but it doesn't have a country soul. The third? Well, he just kicks the shit out of poor Roy Orbison. But Country? Naw, just good.

Happy Birthday Ukulele Girl

Continuing a Mavericks Jag

The Mavericks cranked out a lot of great music, stylistically all over the musical map. They imploded, but are rumored to be back together. Raul Malo plays wonderful guitar and piano, does all the arrangements, writes songs so good they feel familiar at first hearing. He can capture any vocal style and do it better than the original. The problem is, where is Raul Malo? Maybe he can't DO Raul Malo?

Raul Malo

My daughter doesn't like Raul because she thinks he's country. ??!


This one was a tough call because there is also a version of Indian Love Call. (You may have heard Raul singing this as you filed out of the Apollo movie)

Slow Moving Outlaws

This morning the dog and I were in the garden drinking coffee. A year ago there were three of us, but his old sidekick Sam died. I've noticed that Bud's been moving slower these days too. He took slow, measured steps up the walk, stopping every few feet to rest and smell the dog scent on the plants. The thought went through my mind that we were both getting to be old outlaws. Here's one from Waylon. I didn't really get the soul of song when it was new. Listen up, young bucks, and know why the dog's heart aches. (I apologize for the graphics. Close your eyes.)

A song for Bud.

Waylon at peak voice with agony on his lips and pain in his eyes.

Blog Chain

"There is endless journalistic comment on the web - about other blog-comments that are in turn about further commentators."

Just as a matter of pride I feel obligated to comment on the above.

Jolie Holland

For all of those of you who are trapped.

Carolyn Wonderland

Carolyn Wonderland was on Austin City Limits tonight. I stumbled onto her about three years and immediately sent for a CD (I know, CDs are so yesterday). She's a little like a Janis Joplin with a hot guitar who writes her own material. As an old Blues lover it's nice to know the kids are still playing it.

A mandolin?


It's amazing that an old Robert Johnson tune written 75 years ago, played virtually note for note, is still fresh.

The Rock of Ages

This interesting rock is on a farm south of Albert Lea, Minnesota. The exposed portion is 3' X 6'. How much more is underground is not known. It has been dusted with charcoal to more clearly show the lettering. It is quite likely French, as there are records of a French expedition in Southern Minnesota in 1712. Purpose? (Ed Shannon photo)