Now thems good eatin’
Paul Kantner was overshadowed by Jorma Kaukonen’s freak guitar playing and Marty Balin’s pop star voice. But he was the blonde guitarist who made girls stop wearing bras and start having sex. He should have been given the Freedom Medal by some President sometime.
At least he made the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame –
I have a special place in my heart for the song “Have You Seen the Stars Tonight.”
THE trippiest record ever to come out of San Francisco was Blows Against the Empire, in 1970 – two sides of vinyl that made Revolution #9 seem like a high school AV class project, and at the end of the far out musical maelstrom was this sublime little gem.
Jerry Garcia on pedal steel, Crosby and Nash on harmonies, each adding magic that was absent from all the Jefferson Starship missions that followed this transitional paradise that Paul Kantner put together after the Jefferson Airplane crashed and burned.
Rest in Peace in the Stars, Baron Von Tollbooth
And I have just spent one of the worst weeks of my entire life as a result. Tried to tell it that it was a cold. The first three days of writhing joint aches and chills were only the beginning.
Imagine every deep breath resulting in a good minute of convulsive, car-engine-trying-to-turn-over coughs until you feel faint from no oxygen, that finally spark and kick into truly gut wrenching, every muscle in your body clenched yeti howl coughs that cause a blinding headache, to maybe, if you are lucky, actually dredge from your lungs a plug of the thick sewage sludge, and having to expel nauseating lard lumps of it out of your trachea before it suffocates you – talking Linda Blair in the Exorcist amounts – and getting about 10 to 15 seconds before it happens all over again, for over 48 hours straight, when any sleep is counted in minutes during the 15 minutes every 4 hours when the Advil actually stops your chills and aches. And then laying there for another 3 days as it slowly lessens.
On the one hand, watching a game between two bad teams can end up a closely contested match that comes down to the very last play, as it did tonight when the Ravens blocked a potentially game winning field goal and returned it all the way for the winning TD as time ran out.
On the other hand, watching two bad teams for hours like that makes one want to slink out unnoticed after it’s over, as if they don’t want to be seen leaving a cow flop throwing contest
Je ne parle pas le français, so I shall just say it in English.
The hate of the scum of the earth can claim lives today, but your civilization shall stand as a beacon of enlightenment and beauty a thousand years after the barbarism of these delusional swine has gone extinct from the world.
[Delayed by technical difficulties, I neglected to publicize this review once posted.]
“It was thrilling to hear live and in person, all those strings and horns driving the piece onward. I was also happily impressed by the clarity and individual personality heard from every reed, brass and flute, throughout the gentler transitional sections, and how the entire ensemble gathered into one awesome host, when the timpani sounded the start of a new leg in the race, and all were off over hill and dale at a fierce gallop. It was a thing wonderful to behold to be heard.”
Ahhhh, how could I forget the Sunday Night Follies in the subway system? Watching it say the train is coming in 2 minutes, for 8 minutes and saying 1 minute, then disappearing off the board and never showing up. Delightful.
Perhaps that was a ghost pain, for the part of my life amputated and thrown away while waiting for pains.
And now the sweet scent of ozone sinking through the troposphere from the impending spring thunderstorm provokes yet another ahhhhhh. Spring is in the air and great sleeping weather awaits.