Blue Moon

Please ignore the awful animations in this video, 'twas the only one I could find of this beautiful and fitting song.

Some folktales say that when there is a full blue moon, the moon had a face and talked to those in it's light. I'm convinced that in instances such as these the moon would sound a lot like Alex Chilton.

I wish all of you a wonderful New Year's and much health and happiness in the year of Tiger! It's gonna be a good one, I can feel it. . .

Merry Christmas!

So. . .

I'm in a cast for the next two months.

Rather than wallow in the Doldrums of Self Pity I plan on looking at this as a vacation of sorts, a chance for me to actually do many of the things I keep "meaning" to do. Sure, I can't play drums or ride a bike (two of my very favorite things to do) but I can, and will:

1. Finish Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, a 845 page historical fantasy novel.

2. Organize my iTunes.

3. Make a golden age hip-hop mix cd for my friend Sarah and an Arthur Russell mix cd for my friend Pete.

4. Attend as many events as possible at the San Francisco Zen Center.

5. Read Crooked Cucumber: The Life and Teachings of Shunryu Suzuki.

6. Start a regular daily meditation practice.

7. Listen to the last 12 podcasts of This American Life.

8. Take pictures of the day to day happenings in and around my neighborhood.

9. Become a tea aficionado.

10. Listen to all the crazy japanese psych I've been voraciously downloading these past few months.

11. Watch the first two seasons of True Blood.

12. Visit the Alemany Flea Market.

13. Visit the Palace of the Legion of Honor.

14. Visit the Exploratorium.

15. Visit Alcatraz.

16. Take a boat under the Golden Gate Bridge.

17. Take the train to Los Angeles and spend a week visiting with my friend Kevin.

18. Have lunch and/or dinner with many of the people I have not seen for many moons, including (but not limited to): Rusty, Arvel, Brett, Jem, Andrew, Devin, Drew, and Cody.

19. Go to Glide Church to hear the choir on a bright Sunday morning.

20. Go on a walking ghost tour of Chinatown.

21. Become a regular at the cafe down the street.

22. Write a letter to Grandma Beegee.

23. Bake a pumpkin pie.

24. Purchase a pet fish.

25. Write a play.

26. Stroll the headlands.

27. Look at the sky.

28. Take my time.

Consider this a promise both to myself and to you, my two faithful Nackebuhs followers:

I will not be bored. I will not be sad.

I will not be bored. I will not be sad.

Christmas With Chris G.

Saw my buddies Chris and Kevin tear through some 'ol holiday standards at the Hemlock last night. I don't know which was better, when "Jingle Bells" morphed into a Slayer song or when Chris put on an apron during "Winter Wonderland" and handed out a buncha "fresh baked" Newman O's. Whichever the case I'm in the holiday spirit now, dammit.

This is a picture of Chris in front of the fireplace he constructed for the show. Note the Kwanzaa sweater and the stockings on the mantel, one for every member of N.W.A.

The Greatest Soul Album Ever Recorded?

Consider James Carr.

The son of a preacher from Mississippi, he cut his teeth singing in various gospel groups throughout his teens hoping for a secular breakthrough. In 1963 he was turned down by the mighty Stax records. In late 1964, however, he was picked up by the small Memphis imprint Goldwax. He spent the next few years attempting to find the stylistic match to his richly expressive baritone, trying on everything from Motown-ish pop to soul-blues.

In 1966 he found his voice with the exquisite single You Got My Mind Messed Up. This single and the album (of the same name) that followed is, to my ears, the purest distillation of raw southern soul that has ever been recorded. James Carr might not be a household name like Otis Redding and Aretha Franklin but on terms of pure emotion I believe he outranks them both.

Just listen to The Dark End of the Street:

Later covered by everyone from Clarence Carter to Linda Ronstadt to the Flying Burrito Brothers to Ms. Franklin herself, Carr's original still stands as the definitive version. It is a song of utter darkness and despair, and he sings as a man possessed, as though his very life depended on it. And, in a way, it did.

For James Carr's demons were very real. After recording You Got My Mind Messed Up he fell into heavy drug and alcohol abuse. A subsequent tour was derailed due to James frequently wandering offstage and getting lost. Upon returning to Memphis he was diagnosed with manic depression. Sessions for his second album, A Man Needs a Woman, were disastrous at best. During his last recording session for Goldwax James sat at the microphone staring off into space and singing only the refrain from the Bee Gee's To Love Somebody. Goldwax went bankrupt in 1969, and James quietly drifted into obscurity. He spent time in various mental institutions for much of the 70's and 80's, barely conscious of the world around him.

So why spend so much time (as I have) with an album that came from a place this dark, this desolate? For me it is simply a matter of solidarity. As the long nights drag on during this time of the year and much of my world is lived in darknesses both real and imaginary I am comforted by the fact that these streets have been walked on before, by shoes much more troubled than mine. And perhaps this was James' ultimate purpose, his gift to the world: To be so in touch with his own emotions as to offer up a crystallized distillation of melancholy to help others navigate their own dark journeys by. For this reason I do not consider this sad music, to me it is triumphant.

Oh, and by the way, this story does have a silver lining. With medication, James' condition steadily improved to the point where in 1991 he cut an album for a revived Goldwax. The record, Take Me to the Limit, received mixed reviews, although its very existence was an achievement in and of itself. A tour followed:

In 1994 he released another album entitled Soul Survivor. Unfortunately, Carr was soon diagnosed with lung cancer, and spent several years battling the disease before finally succumbing on January 7th, 2001.

For those of you wanting a soundtrack to these short days and long, long nights of the soul I humbly offer you James Carr's unqualified masterpiece. I'll see you on the other side of the solstice.

Download You Got My Mind Messed Up

I don't buy it.

Alright, you tell me what you think this picture looks like:

And no, this isn't a still from the latest Steven Spielberg movie.

This light display actually appeared in the sky over Norway a few days ago.

The latest news is that it was the result of some failed Russian missile test but. . . I don't buy it.

Why does modern science have to explain away all the magic and wonder in this world?

Grindcore Baby.

"Cute might be thought of as a watered-down version of pretty; which is a watered down version of beautiful; which is a watered-down version of sublime; which is a watered-down version of terrifying."

-Frances Richard

Saint Nicholas Day Eve.

In which, as children back in Wisconsin, my brother and I would set out our winter boots in the hallway outside our bedrooms. The next morning we were delighted to find that Saint Nicholas had filled our boots with candies, fruit, evergreen sprigs, and calenders for the next year (Football themed for my brother, Dungeons and Dragons themed for yours truly.)

It was also the day in which my mother would incessently torment me by playing Schumann's "Knecht Ruprecht Theme" on her upright piano.

Knecht Ruprecht was the mean, sooty, hunchbacked servant of Saint Nicholas and was rumored to beat children for being naughty. He was a permanent fixture in my nightmares circa 1984.