katecontinued shared her 2008 challenge to live a sustainable life with austerity, authority and artistry. 2009 . . . let the sun shine! . . . redirection of energy to the outside.
A nation of sheep. I remember how hilarious I thought it was that in 1978 an entire nation of Christian folks fell in love and sang along with half a dozen gay men celebrating the YMCA as a meeting place. Children, parents, old people at millions of Christian weddings jumped off their chairs and danced while singing along with the Village People. I know, I was at these functions and what part of it all in middle America. I was one of the sheeple and had a good laugh at myself several years later when I woke up and realized what the fuck the joke was. Would anyone like to guess what these same middle class adults would have said in 1978 if asked what they thought about gay marriage?
These people (my peeps) are suffering more and more in this country. But, I am lately feeling in agreement with Dark Wraith who writes the following about the sheeple of the middle class:
This is a middle class whose members think their civic duty to the body politic is to the extent of maybe voting in this or that election and then washing their hands of further, on-going, vigilant watch and action over the stewards they elect to lead them.
Yes, this American middle class is suffering; and yes, some members of that middle class—especially the young—do not deserve what is happening to them.
Perhaps those who do not deserve it, including the young lambs being led with their parents to the collective slaughter, should take up the matter with the many who do deserve it.
Live like sheep; bleat like sheep.
The silence of the lambs is, nonetheless, deafening.
We live in a land of Free Dumb and we are slowly dying from it.
I was 5, but I still remember every single word of the lyrics . . .
I loved the B side more than the Hippopotumus one. Another Gayla Peevey song later on was "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus." These were memories of loving times and family.
In 1969, a 14-year-old Beatle fanatic named Jerry Levitan, armed with a reel-to-reel tape deck, snuck into John Lennon's hotel room in Toronto and convinced John to do an interview about peace.
Do read what Colin Bevan has to say about nonviolence.
I am moved by the graphics. They take me back to that time. I am transported while I am yet again revived by John Lennon’s philosophy.
The young man is delightful. He is far superior as a journalist, asking real questions than our robotic nimrods in corporate media.
I had a talking to with my soul one morning this week. I was awash in shame. It was from a sharply defined memory of something simple I’d done to my grandmother years ago. I chose to write about it. It spilled over into regrets over things I’d said and done to my daughter, mother, sister, son. It was like an intense atonement session. The Grandma incident forced me to realize how little I understood about aging at the time, though I thought of myself as perceptive. It also showed me that even when my intentions were good, I could really blow it. I wrote and wrote and attached images.
And, then I was done. That is, until I just now heard this poignant song by Nina Simon on an archive addition of This American Life (my addiction). Though it was written for her in ’64, I’d known this song from the Animals version when I was a teenager. Some believe it was related to Nina Simon's Civil Rights music of those times, but I believe this is a more personal story. For me it is the perfect soundtrack to my process of recollecting past mistakes.
And, Yusuf Islam’s version. Or Cat Stevens to those of us old enough to remember . . .
King Crimson – The only concert I remember loving – where the 2 hours passed like 30 minutes.
With my alphabet format Elephant Talk is now even more compelling. It is a bit painful to watch the '80's stylin' - but the music is worth it. Robert Fripp and Adrian Belew are amazing musicians.
I admit that I have leaned more heavily on YouTube this year than I'd imagined I would. Sometimes it is simply fluff, filler . . . a substitute for my own material or research. Then again, I am so impressed by this medium. Just a couple of years ago videos on the internet were slow to load, choppy and largely a pain. Now it had changed for the better and I am awed by the ease of of exchanging information.
This month the Transition Towns piece in particular, and it was one of a myriad on this theme, ranked high as video education, guidance and inspiration It is a good example of something that is better to see and hear directly than my summary or analysis of the information.
If this format is negative for my visitors, I am curious. Let me know if viewing YouTube is preferable or not whether it is comic relief, video education or guidance-inspiration. Now here is something that is definately comic relief.
In the post oil world, I have read that it is wise to learn to play a musical instrument. Yes, I remember now. It was the No Impact Man where I first saw this. I watched a wonderful movie on PBS the other night about Pete Seeger and his remarkable life. Despite being persecuted by the rabid anti-communist congressional forces for 17 years, banning him from television and his ability to perform in key venues he persevered. He taught children to sing, he was a friend to the leaders of the civil rights movement and gave the movement the signature “We Shall Overcome.” Teaching humanity through music is a remarkable part of this man’s history, my history. I learned my politics through this music.
It makes sense in anticipation of no electricity, community or small group entertainment versus the huge venues of today. Folk music will always have a place in American culture, but I believe there are more indications that hip hop will lead in teaching in our cultural changes ahead. This makes me think of my love of the first rap music I heard in ’81. Grand Master Flash was the music I loved and went to a tiny club in Ithaca to hear.
From Rollingstone,
Grandmaster Flash helped invent both an art form, the hip-hop sound, and a type of artist, the turntablist DJ. When the 16-year-old Flash (Joseph Saddler) got into Bronx street parties in 1973, he discovered he had no skills as a break dancer, but he did have a passion for music and tinkering with electronic equipment in his bedroom. Adored, party-throwing DJs such as Kool Herc, Pete DJ Jones, and Jones, and Grandmaster Flowers inspired Flash to combine the sharpest parts of their acts into something better and stronger. During 1974Ð75, Flash perfected a way to intercut and extend break beats on the beat, so that dancers could just keep rolling on with the funky bits he selected. He could also assemble pieces of records into complete new workouts, something everybody takes for granted today.
This was so innovative back then that it called for a new style of MC, or rapper, to put it across to an audience. The Furious Five, who were up to the challenge, consisted of exhorter Cowboy (Keith Wiggins), wordslinger Kid Creole (Nathaniel Glover), and Kid's more politically minded brother Melle Mel (Melvin Glover), who brought in Scorpio (Eddie Morris) and love-man Raheim (Guy Williams). The Five began to finish one another's lines and toss around raps rhythmically in time to Flash's turntable work. Together they became the mightiest originators in hip-hop history.
I loved the fact that the music was created out of what was at hand. I don’t have to say it, but I am not musically sophisticated. I have always loved drums and strong rhythm. When I drove cross country with my son in the summer of ’92, we listened to his hip hop cd’s all across the country. We traveled from Philadelphia to Phoenix with a stop in Omaha. It got to be a challenge for him to quiz me on the group, the dj, the mc, etc. To this day, A Tribe called Quest evokes that trip for me.
Lately I have been captivated by the International music I hear on Link TV. BTW, Hip Hop is now an international sound. I have heard Hip Hop from every continent on earth, in many languages. Watching the following documentary, Jupiter I found it captivating that the musicians in the Congo make music from refuse, from nothing. I see that "Jupiter" will be airing again on March 11th. As with every part on the planet, the music speaks to the longings, the joy and the anger of the people.
The introduction to this trailer states,
Jupiter's Dance
Category: Documentaries
Regions: Sub-Saharan Africa
Topics: Music / Art / Culture, Indigenous Peoples
Kinshasa, a city of 10 million inhabitants, is the crumbling capital of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. As the older generation of Kinois will tell you, "Kin-la-belle" (Kinshasa the beautiful) has become "Kin-la-poubelle" (Kinshasa the garbage pail) in the space of fifteen years. Nonetheless, the city still exudes a remarkable energy, whose primary form of expression is music.
Jupiter's Dance takes viewers on an exhilarating jaunt through the ghettos of Kinshasa to meet musicians who struggle to emerge from the chaos: rappers, handicapped bluesmen, griots, street children, inventors of instruments, and ndombolo musicians. Jupiter, the charismatic leader of the band Okwess International, serves as guide and narrator as he describes his city and his long battle to break out of the ghetto with his music. "The DRC has 450 ethnic groups and thousands of untapped musical resources. We're sleeping on a mattress stuffed with dollars, yet we're starving!"
This morning’s news is about those old white men who spent last night at a YouTube debate trying to out-hate and out-bigot each other. This makes my morning choice of music appropriate.
Biblical scholars know the concept of the Jezebel spirit as reference to women, usually painted ones, who supposedly lead weak men astray. Fundamentalist preachers often refer to the Jezebel spirit when they want to cast aspersions on any woman with whom they disagree. In 1981 Talking Heads frontman David Byrne and producer Brian Eno (formerly of Roxy Music) recorded a groundbreaking album, My Life in the Bush of Ghosts which featured the underground hit, “The Jezebel Spirit.”
I had to lose the video because there were problems loading it. Take a leap to Crooks and Liars to hear it. If I had to choose the one album I could have in favor of any other it would be My Life in the Bush of Ghosts. I love this album and I have listened to it thousands of times since 1982. For me, it isn't about a woman (poor Jezebel) as much as a thundering fucktard who is terrified of her. These images are new for me, pretty spooky mental images and not my style. Nevertheless, I enjoy this sound again.
