We are in that transitional time between late summer, segueing into early fall. I have felt a sense of being adrift. Six months into Covid, with little abatement in sight, the looming darkness and colder days don’t bode well for anyone preferring light and summer breezes. Simply, summer has offered some respite from Covid lockdown. What’s coming, I’m afraid, is a dank, Dickensian dystopia to be endured over the course of the winter.
Last week, a well-known local musician touched down on Facebook about his bookings drying up as the summer places began shutting down for the season. A drive along East and West Grand in Maine’s premier tourist Mecca, OOB, on Sunday revealed summer’s dying embers. Many of the places that had outside entertainment like the Sunset Deck and Myst have closed until next May. Others are open for another three weeks at best. Who knows if The Brunswick will have indoor entertainment come late October.
For the past 44 months I’ve been journeying through the loneliness that apparently is endemic in those relegated to living with the loss and associated grief that accompanies the death of someone deeply loved. During my sojourn, former associates have disappeared. Not sure why. I’m guessing that surface relationships can’t come to terms with darkness of death, subsequent depression it delivers, and all the associated fall-out from an event inflicted on someone.
On days like today, my first inclination used to be to sit down and write a blog post. Given that Mondays don’t require me to check-in at Whitey’s Farm until later in the morning, I went down the stairs to my bunker and picked up my acoustic. As I’ve intimated before, I’m not certain I’d still be here if on that dark day in August of 2018, I hadn’t opened the dust-covered guitar case housing my Yamaha guitar, rather than seeking the alternative hidden in the closet upstairs. Continue reading →
On Sunday, I ran through 8 songs in my basement and posted the video(s) on YouTube at my music page. I figured these 8 songs were a good representation of where I’m at in terms of songs and music I’m playing, at least electrically. My hope is at some point to find a drummer, hence the name of the video (parts 1 and 2). I split the set due to a glitch right about midway through.
The title is a reference to both a Big Star song, when drummer Jody Stephens sings “Way Out West,” and Alex Chilton says, “let’s give the drummer some.” Of course, if you know your popular musical trivia, then you know that James Brown says “I wanna give the drummer some of this funky soul, here…” in his song, “Funky Drummer.”
I actually just finished A Man Called Destruction: The Life and Music of Alex Chilton by Holly George-Warren Here’s a review of the book, here. Actually, I like this summation of the book, better.The book was kind of depressing (at least in parts) due to how Chilton pissed away his considerable musical talents through the trifecta of rock and roll, “drugs, booze, and sex,” or at least that was my perception. I’ve written a song about this and will be rolling that out in an upcoming video or recording.
I received positive feedback about the videos from those who watched them. A couple of people asked about lyrics.
Here’s lyrics to my songs and links to the covers (below):
Walking Down the Road
Verse 1
Walking down the road alone, I saw a country lost at home
A mission of hope carried me forth, I lived each day for all it was worth
A president came while I was away, I planned to counter him every day
Hate and division won’t carry us forth, come together and be a force
Chorus:
I wish I had just one more day, I know I had so much more to say.
I love my dad, I love my mom. I’ll miss my friends forever yon
Verse 2
My family back home sent me their love, I wished I got back to give them a hug
We all know what we think we know, but can we strive for a greater hope
Friends I lost along the way, but still I walked another day
Saving earth was what it’s about, some of the haters would jump and shout
Chorus:
I wish I had just one more day, I know I had so much more to say.
I love my dad, I love my mom. I’ll miss my friends forever yon
Verse 3
One hundred days of joy and pain, my feet moved ‘cross the fruited plain
A dirty hippy or something more, why can’t they see my higher road
My face and words live on today, I often wonder what people say
I gave it all held nothing back, but in the end was it done in vain
Chorus:
I wish I had just one more day, I know I had so much more to say.
I love my dad, I love my mom. I’ll miss my friends forever yon
[Instrumental break]
Verse 4
Walking down the road alone, I saw a country lost at home
A mission of hope carried me forth, I lived each day for all it was worth
My family back home sent me their love, I wish I got back to give them a hug
We all know what we know, but can we strive for a greater scope
Chorus:
If I had just one more day, I often wonder what I’d say
It hurts my dad, it hurts my mom. Please remember them from where you roam
In the midst of ‘Crona, I’m shaping my own reality. Safe beyond the pitchfork-waving sheeple and their chants of “Orange Man is bad,” and “Put on a damn mask,” I’m sitting in my basement with guitar in-hand, offering some songs (and a few screeds).
I’m not sure why, but the name “Joel Plaskett’ went rattling around my synapses yesterday. Not familiar with this Canadian music treasure? Why am I not surprised.
This week, I decided I’m done offering explanations to anyone. Why the fuck do I need to justify anything I do? If you are in my very small tribe, you get me. If you aren’t, then turn the channel and find someone else to watch.
This song by Plaskett really lit a fire for me. Maybe it’s the sense of nostalgia of looking back to the carefree days of high school. At least when I was in high school, we were free from pandemics and the ubiquity of social media trucking in fear-fogging and hysteria. Those were better days for sure. We might have been drunk off our asses, but we also learned a couple of things that I’m not sure today’s Zoom-infused kids will ever know. Then again, a good many of the people that I got closer to six feet of back in the late 1970s seem to have shit for brains. A few of our teachers seem brain-addled too. Oh well.
Here are two Plaskett vids. The first one is just classic “take me back to the good ole’ days.” We all had our own version of “Johnny Hook-Me-Up.” The second is another one that gets my motor revving, too.
But then again, my tastes probably aren’t for everyone.
Came up with another song this week. I “found” this chord progression one night before bed, just noodling around on my acoustic. Wrote most of it on the electric, which is not usually how I write–at least in this brief seven month stretch since I’ve been developing songs.
I think I was probably six or seven-years-old when I first heard this song on WPNO that local AM music “blowtorch” based in Auburn, back in the day. This was long before the AM side of the dial opted for talk-radio over tunes.
If you follow popular music and know a thing or two about it, you’ll know Barry McGuire had a major hit with this song written as a Vietnam War protest. If you are a music geek (or maybe you heard it mentioned by Dick Clark on American Bandstand), you’ll know the writer of the song was P.F. Sloan.
The other day, I was thinking of songs that might be worth learning for these days of Crona (borrowing that one from Bob Marley, the comedian) lockdown and McGuire’s song was one of a handful I thought I’d tackle. It’s a simple one, really, in terms of chords.
I’ve mentioned meeting Jorma Kaukonen, one of my musical idols at Raoul’s Roadside Attraction probably 30 years ago. Jorma told me at the time (when I asked him for tips on learning the guitar) to “learn songs.” That’s what I’m doing these days and have been for months, now.
Since I can’t get out to open mics while the world’s shut down, throwing up a video now and then will have to serves as a stand-in until someone re-opens things.
I came home from work on Wednesday. My guitar lesson was cancelled for the third successive week. Not to be deterred, I wrote “Stuck in a Nightmare” in the span of about 45 minutes. A few edits and I had a playable song be the evening.
The song touches on our current belief that staying at home and “sheltering in place” will somehow deliver a magic result. Somehow, we’ll avoid harm and in a few weeks (months?? years??) all will be well and we can go back to our lives of buying junk we don’t need.
The fear-fogging line is one I had to laugh about. Other than my sister, I’m the only other person that I know who has appropriated this excellent phrase that captures what the media does best.
I wrote a paean to Rachel Maddow late in 2019, but she’s become one of the biggest fear-foggers out there. As a result, I’ve stopped watching her show.
For me, who knows better than anyone (other than my wife), some things are beyond our control. In fact, Choice Theory is something I now understand and try to frame how I view the world. Yet, I see the disavowal of something that’s clear—we can only control ourselves. The other stuff we need to let go.
I’m still trying to find a way to up my fidelity on these home recordings. At some point, I’ll figure all this out. Maybe then, we’ll be released from “house arrest” and be allowed to go back to bars, clubs, and other venues and actually play real, live music again.
These are uncertain times. During upheaval, decision-making can be affected. Formerly easy choices become more difficult: for some, paralysis sets in. Of course, if the height of choice difficulty for you is deciding what over-priced, foodie establishment to eat at, you are in luck—you won’t have to contend with that dilemma today (or for the near future).
Doubts about what may happen tomorrow can lead to hearkening back to the familiar—those places where we’ve found answers or solace in the past. Insecurity causes dissonance and discomfort. Fear in turn forces us back to places of familiarity.
The internet can be a source of trusted information. It’s also a breeding ground for the dubious and even fallacious.
I’ve been a blogger since 2003. Over that period, I developed go-to sites. These were written by fellow blogging travelers I developed trust in. When lost without answers, I could go back to them by default. I also incorporated ideas and ideologies from them.
Many of these sites are now shuttered. If still online, it’s been months (or even years) since they’ve been updated with a new post. Disappointing for sure, I simply moved on. Meanwhile, I’ve stayed with it, even following the floor of my life opening-up. I’ve shared with readers from a place that at times felt like freefall. Persisting in the face of dissonance, upheaval, and even tragedy is what resilience looks like, especially if you fancy yourself a writer. Continue reading →
I started this song back at the tail-end of 2019. I had two verses that kind of captured some of what I was feeling heading into the holidays, which always suck without Mark.
Not sure where the spaceship theme came from other than sometimes, I wish I could get into a spaceship and find another planet to live on.
Jump in a spaceship and fly away
Then, the song sat there.
I initially developed the chord progression and riff after working on Neil Young’s “Cinnamon Girl,” which is played in Double Drop D tuning. The tuning lends itself to some stuff I’d been listening to from a guy that had been based in Boston and now for some reason I think he may live in Maine, Cole Kinsler. He records as Space Mountain and I bought his “Togetherness” cassette that came out in 2019. Perhaps if he ever heard my stuff like this one, he’d demur.
Verse three came to me yesterday when I started playing the song again. It seemed like a better way to deal with my angst about all that’s been going on re: the Coronavirus.
It has no chorus.
Spaceship Blues
Verse I
Life it sucks and then you die
Storm clouds in a darkened sky
Fucking morons are all around
All I wanna’ do is leave this town and roam
Verse II
Idiots tell you just to smile
Don’t have a clue, ain’t walked one mile
In land that’s filled with shit
Jump in a spaceship and be done with it and fly
Verse III
Coronavirus its shut us down
Like sheep we’re led around
Trust the experts they’re rarely right
Load up that spacecraft with supplies and leave today
A week ago, Neil Young penned a scathing letter to Trump and posted it on his website, the Neil Young Archives. As a new American citizen, Mr. Young had a few things he wanted to “get off his chest” about his president, Donald Trump. Apparently Trump’s been playing “Rockin’ in the Free World” at his rallies.
Young, never one to mince words or fail to say what he feels like saying, obviously can’t stand the president. I know the feeling.
I haven’t written any songs since the summer and early fall. I’ve been playing a ton of guitar, though.
I had most of the verses written when I headed to my weekly guitar lesson a week ago, Thursday. My guitar teacher helped me re-arrange a few of these and gave me a couple of ideas about chords for the chorus.
Last Sunday, I had the song that I wanted.
Today, I’ve spent most of the day down in the “wood shed,” working on songs, including the new one. Here’s a live video of the song, with just two muffs.
Because I don’t have a PA and the vocals are probably muffled, I’ll post lyrics below the video if anyone’s interested.
National Disgrace (Jim Baumer)
Lyrics
Verse I
You’re a national disgrace/A fucking public shame
Trashing all your rivals/Can’t ever shoulder blame
Verse II
Talk about corruption/Should be your middle name
Bait and switch the shell game/It’s how you set your frame
Chorus
Deny global warming/Call it just a hoax
You’re a pox on the planet/Tides are rising at the coasts
Greatness offered suckers/No lightning in that jar
History will show us/Exactly who you are
Verse III
Tiny hands and fingers/Grabbing all you can
All your daddy’s money/Won’t float another sham
Verse IV
Some see through illusion/Your divisive world of hate
