It's kinda awesome. When you speak "Mac Rebennack" many folks dunno that he was also Dr John Creaux as well as Malcolm John Rebennack Jr. And I was one of them. Shame on me, who cares what his name really was? He was a fantastic musician who greatly helped the art of music expand and improve.
Who's heard Little Richard sing "Shake a Hand"?
- Thread starter Daniel~
- Start date
I'm a fan of both so naturally I hope you can find it! ":O}
I have enjoyed listening To various members of various groups tell of how they came together.
What I have come to realize is that it's almost never planed.
occasionally a group will need a replacement for a member that leaves and they will go looking for that skill set.
But most often it's serendipity. a fortuitous and unexpected meeting.
The post of Leo Kotkey (SP)
Recounting how he sat in a recording Studio and talked to a guy for a hour and half.
Then months later was told he'd been speaking with Dylan. What are the odds against those two guys talking for over an hour about Dylan's new album in the making and not realize the musical possibilities inherent in their meeting? My point would be that it was not up to Leo or Bob.
Music just wasn't interested in that pairing at that time.
The truth as near as I can get to it is this.
They meet though a sister
They meet in coffee shops
They meet at one of their kids recitals
They meet in the cross walk
They meet on the beaches
They meet when the music they share between them is ready to be born.
And we? We are forever the beneficiaries
of the music running though their veins
like streams coming together and seeking Ocean.
I thought of borrowing a page from sports fans
and suggesting we create fantasy groups.
Only to realize that the groups we love are for us fantasy groups already.
We don't need to bring them together
Music is already calling them
Music will summon them
And the best of them will be right on time
and give voice to that time.
Will become a measure of our time.
i really don't know all that much. But what I do know comes to me like music
And music always demands of us that we share.
.
What I have come to realize is that it's almost never planed.
occasionally a group will need a replacement for a member that leaves and they will go looking for that skill set.
But most often it's serendipity. a fortuitous and unexpected meeting.
The post of Leo Kotkey (SP)
Recounting how he sat in a recording Studio and talked to a guy for a hour and half.
Then months later was told he'd been speaking with Dylan. What are the odds against those two guys talking for over an hour about Dylan's new album in the making and not realize the musical possibilities inherent in their meeting? My point would be that it was not up to Leo or Bob.
Music just wasn't interested in that pairing at that time.
The truth as near as I can get to it is this.
They meet though a sister
They meet in coffee shops
They meet at one of their kids recitals
They meet in the cross walk
They meet on the beaches
They meet when the music they share between them is ready to be born.
And we? We are forever the beneficiaries
of the music running though their veins
like streams coming together and seeking Ocean.
I thought of borrowing a page from sports fans
and suggesting we create fantasy groups.
Only to realize that the groups we love are for us fantasy groups already.
We don't need to bring them together
Music is already calling them
Music will summon them
And the best of them will be right on time
and give voice to that time.
Will become a measure of our time.
i really don't know all that much. But what I do know comes to me like music
And music always demands of us that we share.
.
Songs hit me in a lot of different ways, that seems like I may share this with all of mankind.
This song hits me from head to toe. Every time I give myself to it it beats me senseless.
and cancels all my engagements.
I cling to the thought that we must love somethings
before we can know them.
"I was blind but now I see."
This song hits me from head to toe. Every time I give myself to it it beats me senseless.
and cancels all my engagements.
I cling to the thought that we must love somethings
before we can know them.
"I was blind but now I see."
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Dylan wrote it, how did Joan end up owning it? ":O}
Man in the Long Black Coat
Bob Dylan
Crickets are chirpin' the water is high
There's a soft cotton dress on the line hangin' dry
Window wide open African trees
Bent over backwards from a hurricane breeze
Not a word of goodbye not even a note
She gone with the man in the long black coat
Somebody seen him hangin' around
At the old dance hall on the outskirts of town
He looked into her eyes when she stopped him to ask
If he wanted to dance he had a face like a mask
Somebody said from the bible he'd quote
There was dust on the man in the long black coat
Preacher was talking there's a sermon he gave
He said every man's conscience is vile and depraved
You cannot depend on it to be your guide
When it's you who must keep it satisfied
It ain't easy to swallow it sticks in the throat
She gave her heart to the man in the long black coat
There are no mistakes in life some people say
It is true sometimes you can see it that way
But people don't live or die people just float
She went with the man in the long black coat
There's smoke on the water it's been there since June
Tree trunks uprooted beneath the high crescent moon
Feel the pulse and vibration and the rumbling force
Somebody is out there beating on a dead horse
She never said nothing there was nothing she wrote
She gone with the man in the long black coat
Songwriters: Bob Dylan
I'd like to re-post a song as I see it as standing in relation to the first song.
The first is a some what sour view of a man who gains a woman's hand in a way no one seems to e able to understand.
"It aint easy to swallow it sticks in the throat she went with the man in long black coat."
In next song we find one who women find irresistible despite failing to measure up in any way men might value.
But while the first song hints at a tragic mismatch that demonstrates the old truth that:
"God gives to whom so ever he may"
or more simply put:
You cannot properly judge what is none of your business.
The second song fully recognizes that gifts are God's to give and rejoices in that simple truth. even while completely perplexed by it.
Hard Lovin' Loser
Mimi & Richard Fariña
Hes the kind of guy puts on a motorcycle jacket
And he weigh about a hundred and five
He's the kind of surfer got a ho-daddy haircut
And you wonder how he'll ever survive
He's the kind of frogman wearing twenty pounds of counterweights
And sinking in the sea like a stone
He's the kind of soldier got no sense of direction
And they send him in the jungle alone
But when the frost's on the pumpkin and the litle girls are jumpin'
He's a hard loving son of a gun
He's got them waiting down the stairs just to sample his affairs
And they call him a spoonful of fun
He's the kind of person going riding on a skateboard
And his mind's raging out of control
He's the kind of person goes to drive a Maserati
Puts his key inside the wrong little hole
He's the kind of ski bum tearing wild down the mountain
Hits a patch where there ain't any snow
He's the kind of cowboy got a hot trigger finger
Shoots his boot 'cause he's drawing kind of slow
But when it comes in for rolling, he's an expert at bowling
Sets the pins up and lays 'em right down
He's got them taking off their heels, and they like the way he feels
And they call him a carnival clown
He's got a parachute and screaming out "Geronimo!"
And makes a little hole in the ground
He's the kind of logger when the man hollers "Timber!"
Got to stop and look around for the sound
He's the kind of artist rents a groov
y little attic
And discovers that he can't grow a beard
He's the human cannon ball come in for a landing
And he wonders where the net disappeared
But when he takes off his shoes, man, it won't come as news
He's got them lining up in threes and in twos
He's got them painting on the floor, got them begging for some more
And they call him whatever they choose.
Songwriters: FARINA RICHARD
Man in the Long Black Coat
Bob Dylan
Crickets are chirpin' the water is high
There's a soft cotton dress on the line hangin' dry
Window wide open African trees
Bent over backwards from a hurricane breeze
Not a word of goodbye not even a note
She gone with the man in the long black coat
Somebody seen him hangin' around
At the old dance hall on the outskirts of town
He looked into her eyes when she stopped him to ask
If he wanted to dance he had a face like a mask
Somebody said from the bible he'd quote
There was dust on the man in the long black coat
Preacher was talking there's a sermon he gave
He said every man's conscience is vile and depraved
You cannot depend on it to be your guide
When it's you who must keep it satisfied
It ain't easy to swallow it sticks in the throat
She gave her heart to the man in the long black coat
There are no mistakes in life some people say
It is true sometimes you can see it that way
But people don't live or die people just float
She went with the man in the long black coat
There's smoke on the water it's been there since June
Tree trunks uprooted beneath the high crescent moon
Feel the pulse and vibration and the rumbling force
Somebody is out there beating on a dead horse
She never said nothing there was nothing she wrote
She gone with the man in the long black coat
Songwriters: Bob Dylan
I'd like to re-post a song as I see it as standing in relation to the first song.
The first is a some what sour view of a man who gains a woman's hand in a way no one seems to e able to understand.
"It aint easy to swallow it sticks in the throat she went with the man in long black coat."
In next song we find one who women find irresistible despite failing to measure up in any way men might value.
But while the first song hints at a tragic mismatch that demonstrates the old truth that:
"God gives to whom so ever he may"
or more simply put:
You cannot properly judge what is none of your business.
The second song fully recognizes that gifts are God's to give and rejoices in that simple truth. even while completely perplexed by it.
Hard Lovin' Loser
Mimi & Richard Fariña
Hes the kind of guy puts on a motorcycle jacket
And he weigh about a hundred and five
He's the kind of surfer got a ho-daddy haircut
And you wonder how he'll ever survive
He's the kind of frogman wearing twenty pounds of counterweights
And sinking in the sea like a stone
He's the kind of soldier got no sense of direction
And they send him in the jungle alone
But when the frost's on the pumpkin and the litle girls are jumpin'
He's a hard loving son of a gun
He's got them waiting down the stairs just to sample his affairs
And they call him a spoonful of fun
He's the kind of person going riding on a skateboard
And his mind's raging out of control
He's the kind of person goes to drive a Maserati
Puts his key inside the wrong little hole
He's the kind of ski bum tearing wild down the mountain
Hits a patch where there ain't any snow
He's the kind of cowboy got a hot trigger finger
Shoots his boot 'cause he's drawing kind of slow
But when it comes in for rolling, he's an expert at bowling
Sets the pins up and lays 'em right down
He's got them taking off their heels, and they like the way he feels
And they call him a carnival clown
He's got a parachute and screaming out "Geronimo!"
And makes a little hole in the ground
He's the kind of logger when the man hollers "Timber!"
Got to stop and look around for the sound
He's the kind of artist rents a groov
y little attic
And discovers that he can't grow a beard
He's the human cannon ball come in for a landing
And he wonders where the net disappeared
But when he takes off his shoes, man, it won't come as news
He's got them lining up in threes and in twos
He's got them painting on the floor, got them begging for some more
And they call him whatever they choose.
Songwriters: FARINA RICHARD
Sorry but actually it's not.
nor is mine.
There are whole great big topics that I can plainly see that I don't have any grounds upon which I can form an opinion.
But we were talking music..yes?
How do our opinions measure up to say Ravel or Beethoven's?
Or how should we stand if we measure ourselves against a deaf child?
What I have been trying to covey to you is that your negative opinions how ever formed upon what ever basis, when speaking of artist or their ability do not further music or others enjoyment of music,
If the faults you find are real others will find them without your help.
If they exit only within your hearing others will be allowed to continue enjoying what they like.
If you must compare and criticize then do so with music you have posted. You know post music you don't like for us all to not like together. ":O}
You see? Nobody does that do they?
We post music we love in the hopes that others might or do love it as well
If you like one version over another I'm cool with you saying you do. I'm not cool with your saying
the other version is shit.
There's another version not because no one has done it right. But because some one wants to do it differently or..make a song their own. That you choose to compare then judge is your business.
And you DO have a right to do so. But compare and judge your own posts and persevere my wish not to. I am not telling you what you can and cannot post.
Your post are in no way a violation. I'm asking you to consider the consequences.
Does one need an opinion to enjoy music heard for the first time?
Can one hear the same piece of music heard again as if it was for the first time?
The answer is far deeper than one might think.
The answer is yes. If one has no opinions one is seeking and re seeking to confirm.
For once we have an opinion we are always trying to confirm it, to make sure we got it right and shore up any of those little pesky doubts that keep cropping up about our opinions.
Opinions are dead things. Opinions are the living reality we kill by insisting we know something we do not. We cannot know this world if we insist we know this world. To know is to stop looking to stop hearing to stop loving.
Opinions are dead and useless things. To cast a loving and penetrating gaze upon this world does not bring opinions back to life. It allows them to float away like a mist clearing in the air before us.
There are no opinions in the land of now. No room. All filled up to overflowing by the now.":O}
One of the best ways to dump opinions is to never stop trying to see and hear what lies before you right now.
You will soon see that you are completely without any need to have opinions. once you step into the now.
Not only is Now a good time to do this, Now is the only time you can do this.
Damn! you one lucky son of a Bitch!
It's always now. That which always is deserves our attention...Yes?
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Very good point. To bad that I want my opinions to mean something. If judged against other musician's capabilities I come out in maybe last place. I wasn't a very good musician at all. Now that I've admitted that wouldn't it be wonderful if my opinion of my musical self is wrong?
I would only point out that without your opinion you would have been free to pursue music at what ever level you are at. You don't need to know what level you are at. You just need to apply yourself.
Opinions are not facts. At best we derive our opinions from facts.
We can know a fact and knowing this fact does not alter this fact.
But if we have an opinion we depart from the fact n order to speak about our opinions.
But our only common ground is found in fact not opinion. What we know are facts.
What we think about facts are opinions. Our opinions can change over time. Facts do not.
So now we have my opinion. That I have one really changes only the way I look at the facts. If my opinion alters facts it becomes worthless as it now longer represents reality.
Best I think (this signals an opinion) to be long on facts and short on opinions.
Opinions seek to give meaning to facts.
All well and good if we take care not to elevate our opinion above the facts.
BTW...
I'm not altogether sure I have this right...So form your own opinion.":O}
This is a true story. There is a monument to the boll weevil in downtown Enterprise, Alabama. It commemorates the local farmers plowing under their cotton crop and planting wire grass instead. This is a Southern name for a peanut crop. Peanuts made them rich. You could say that the boll weevil found a permanent home underground.
That a Cadillac is not a car to scorn? ":O}