Tag Archives: Janet Mills

Riffing on Bowie and Blistering the Walls

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Music, like everything else, wasn’t intended to be programmed by algorithm. But, people seem to have succumbed: anything that isn’t easy, or pleasant, or makes them feel good about their pathetic lives is just deleted, or tuned out. Like populist rock and roll.

Try doing a Google search for “populist rock and roll” or “populist rocker.” Notice how Bruce Springsteen pops up? One of the articles is an older Spin magazine piece (from 1985) and another one on “The Boss” is from the New York Times and 1997. I guess if he’s the standard-bearer for populist rock and roll, no wonder it sets people off so easily. No one really remembers, apparently what music that pushed back against the establishment’s supposed to sound like. Oh, and see what I mean about algorithms? They fucking distort reality. And just so you know, Springsteen’s populist pose is just that: a pose. Remember the pathetic “unity in the middle” Super Bowl ad for Jeep?

But go ahead, keep looking for that populist thread running through what’s left of rock and roll. I won’t hold my breath waiting.

I ran through another Rock and Roll Church service Sunday morning. Got the stream to work, too. Weirdly, I had this odd, cascading thing going on during the Facebook Live stream. But, at least people showed up and could see and hear something. We’ll keep working to get all the speed bumps smoothed-out.

I’ve been playing “Stuck in a Nightmare,” my COVID song about lockdown and Janet Mills for a year. I wrote it in March, 2020. I’ve never played it live until today. There was this riff in the verses that sounded Bowie-esque. I couldn’t put my finger on the song. Ironically, it’s “Queen Bitch,” which seems fitting since Governor Mills plays so prominently in the sentiment of my song. I really like the electric version. This track was on Bowie’s 1971 record, Hunky Dory.

After a brief respite where Mary and I walked part of the beach at OOB, I was back down in the Bunker, working on recording a four-pack of songs I played during the morning R & R service.

Let me warn you. Don’t listen to it near flammable liquids. They may ignite.

I’ll post my video and then, Bowie playing, “Queen Bitch.”

There’s the screed about Jeff Bezos, and how his wealth has gone from $106 billion to $186 billion during COVID. So much for pandemics being tough on TPTB. I also reference Jimmy Dore, someone you might want to check-out if populism doesn’t offend you.

Predictions for a New Year

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Last year at Christmas, I could barely play 5 songs. By “play,” I mean sitting with my guitar and being able to make it through a song, knowing the words and chords without relying on sheet music. I had a couple of songs I was close to “nailing,” but the others I cloyed my way through.

A year later, I can now play an hour’s worth of music (or more) and my setlist is now in the double digits. I’ll still miss a chord change now-and-then, but I’m confident in my ability to play music. This from someone who believed the messaging that he’d never be good enough to perform with a guitar.

What’s the difference a year later?

A good portion of my growth can be attributed to practice. Most of the previous 365 days of 2020 (in the midst of a global pandemic), I spent hours alone in my basement: just me, three guitars (two electrics, one acoustic), a combo amp, a laptop, and a small Bose speaker. I acquired a two-channel PA midway through 2020 and a couple of microphones. These tools allowed me to approximate the live performance space, or a reasonable facsimile.

I have no crystal ball and hence, no sense of the next time I’ll be in front of an audience of flesh and blood humans. Once our “esteemed” leader, Governor “Crackhead,” shut everything down this fall, she deprived me of my weekly opportunity to get out and hit open mics. This was an essential part of my growth as a performer. No matter how much you practice, standing on a stage in front of a bunch of total strangers is an entirely different animal than sitting alone in the basement. Songs you’ve nailed time and time again become clunky messes played live in front of an audience. But, falling on my face made me better. Continue reading →

Christmas Songs on Pearl Harbor Day

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We have been focused on the COVID Cloud since last March. That’s eight months, earthlings!

Like most false narratives, the design of it fixates on some fractional element of a much larger malady and malfunction. In the case of the COVID (or the “Kovidika,” as I’ve started calling it, one of my numerous descriptors seeking to mock the fear and loathing all about me), Americans seem hard-wired against accepting anything that promises pain: we deny death, lack empathy for anyone suffering through tough times (like grief and loss), and perhaps worse—refuse to own any responsibility for the mess we find ourselves in. It’s as if we’re all clamoring for the Staples “easy button” in some national ceremonial act, hoping away the COVID. Oh, right. I almost forgot. The vaccine will save us. Stupid me.

Today is the first Monday in December. Did you remember it’s National Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day. Will the day come when white people will have to denounce the events that occurred on that day in 1941? Locally, another windstorm has darkened significant portions of Maine’s power grid. Does Janet Mills see this as a problem? I don’t imagine any of the media sock puppets consider thqt worth investigating any further than a perfunctory posting of numbers of people without power—just like they do each day, fogging their fear, telling us of more positive tests of peopl with COVID. They are invested in numbers lacking context or meaning.

Our infrastructure is badly in need of an upgrade. The solution seems to be stringing more fiber optic cable in order for us to Zoom in perpetuity. But what about our crumbling roads, a malfunctioning power grid that’s the same one we’ve had for 70 years, not to mention our buckling bridges. I have fostered a keen interest in the topic of infrastructure. In fact, I pitched a series of investigative articles to this guy back in the day. He handed me off to some American expat living in Germany who passed on my articles. Not that they weren’t any good, they just didn’t match his “style” of writing. He’s now manning the switch on a fear-fog machine of his own, like much of those remaining in the legacy media. All the journalists with any remaining moral compunction have abandoned panic porn to write honestly, like this guy. I admire his work along with a handful of others. The rest, I’ve left in the dust to pander and put forth their propaganda passing as news. Continue reading →

Holding More Than One Idea (The Err of Caution)

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What week of lockdown is this? I’ve lost track.

I hope everyone’s holding up, well. I’m guessing many are not. Actually, I know many aren’t.

My daytime job involves taking calls in a healthcare setting. Since early March, I’ve listened to people cry, melt down, and I’ve experienced and uncomfortable level of fear being projected my way for the past weeks and now, months. This has got to stop!

As a parent coping with the loss of a son, I’ve been struggling with the feeling of sliding back into that “deep dark hole” that’s taken me months to get to the lip of, and then, up into the light of living again. Why has this pandemic triggered these former emotions that were more painful than any human should be forced to endure? I’ve asked the question “why me?” so many times I can’t even come up with a reasonable guess.

I’m not sure why, but often following Mark’s death, I was so fucking angry. I simply wanted to hit someone or worse. Rather than acting out on this urge, I simply turned inward. I remember a former radio psychologist, Dr. Joy Brown, saying that depression was “anger turned inward.” I’d concur. I was so depressed that I contemplated suicide.

Picking up the guitar saved me nearly two years ago. I’ve played my old acoustic (or my newer electric) nearly every single day since August 2018. I’m amazed that two guitars (and a Vox amp) could have made such a difference, but they have. Still, the past 8 to 10 weeks have been difficult as hell, even playing and writing songs and performing via the interwebs. There’s only so much shit that even my guitars can deflect away.

When the Covid-19 outbreak ramped up, there were conflicting reports of its severity. Initially, some said that it wasn’t any worse than the common flu and that “people were overreacting.” Then, protocols were established as cases exploded, especially in the large, urban population centers like Boston, New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles.

Continue reading →