“She will love them when she sees them

They will lose her if they follow

And she only means to please them

And her heart is full and hollow

Like a cactus tree

And she’s so busy being free”

I love that song, and it’s been running through my mind lately. But there are several key differences. One, the song is a bit melancholy and I’m not feeling melancholy about any of this. I’m having a nice time, just enjoying the company and being taken out to dinner.

And two, the song sounds to me like some lovin’ was exchanged between Joni & her subject matter. And in my life at this time, no one is getting any loving. Myself included. It's ok.

Guess who’s taking me out to dinner on Sunday? The pastor of a church I sang at last weekend. He’s a great guy. Sweet, funny, and his favorite song on my CD is “Buy the Bitch a Cadillac”, although he doesn’t think I should sing it in his church.

When he called to ask me out I told him I'd love to have dinner, but, just so he knows,  I’m not “dating.” He was fine. We’re still going to go out and it'll be fun. And then I'll go back home and watch a movie or something with my ex.

That brings me to work music. For me, some records are perfect to work to. I listen to them over and over again almost as background music and never get sick of them. Some of these records I can listen to more attentively in the car or on headphones and enjoy them as much. Others, I can't.

So I'll keep this post short and leave you with a brief list of albums I rock at work on a consistent basis. Why? Dunno. Post responses and criticism - and your list. Here goes:

The National - Boxer

The Postal Service - Give Up

Burial - Untrue

Joni Mitchell - Blue

The Velvet Underground - Live, 1969 Vol. 1

Andrew Bird - Armchair Aprocrypha

John Coltrane - A Love Supreme

DJ Shadow - Endtroducing

The Hold Steady - Boys & Girls in America  (mostly on Fridays)

The Exploding Hearts - Guitar Romantic

It's quite the cross section. I'm trying to pinpoint a rhyme and reason. Help.

8/27 Update: CBCtv has posted this clip to YouTube and dated it at 1967:

As the poet Jonie Mitchell said of cows:

I've looked at cows
From both sides now,
From up and down
And still, somehow,
It's cows' illusions I recall.
I really don't know cows at all.

Nothing is certain. Holstein? Hereford? Guernsey?

Who can tell?

Remember: A cow has more than one stomach!

You can say that Matthew Alexander has been around the block; in fact, he was there when the roads were still being paved. With Early Recordings (1967-1977), Alexander is coming to terms with his past, the disappointments and near-misses of his musical career over the last couple of decades. Early Recordings reveals that, even in his youth, Alexander's gift for melody and writing memorable narratives had already blossomed but they remained in the vaults for many years, waiting to be uncovered.

Barry Andrews: You recently released Early Recordings under the name Matt Alexander. What was the experience like sifting through these old tapes?

Matthew Alexander: All these old recordings were done on audio, reel-to-reel tapes in the '60s and '70s. At that time, I was performing under the name “Matt” rather than Matthew. During the subsequent years, I had been carting these recordings around the country in cardboard boxes and storing them in basements, attics, and closets. I had always assumed that one day I would play them again and recently even bought an old reel-to-reel machine in hopes of doing so. It was at that time, however, that I was informed that old tapes are indeed very fragile and could be destroyed after even one play back session. And so I sent them to a Canadian expert, Richard Hess, who specializes in restoring old tapes and making digital transfers. He informed me that my reel-to-reels were badly mildewed and compromised by dirt, dust and age. To restore and transfer them, he took months to bake them and, in some cases, leave them out in the open Canadian air for days at a time to clean them up.

When I finally received the digital transfers from Richard, I was in a state of awe because I hadn’t listened to these early recordings for approximately 40 years. It took me a few days to get up the courage to go out into my studio, turn off all the lights, turn on the CD player, put the CD in and listen to the songs. When I heard them, it was like being transported in a time capsule. I was stunned by the untrained quality of my voice, the rawness of the recordings (some of which were recorded in mono), and the innocence of many of the songs. I was extremely gratified, though, that I had been able to save these recordings from “reel” obscurity, I felt as though I had closed a circle and made good on a promise I had made to my younger self to not forget these songs or experiences.

Andrews: Listening to your vintage performances, I could trace back your current style to what you were doing back then. The voice is certainly younger, dare I say virginal, but your songwriting was already developing a knack for emotional narratives. What changes do you see between your younger self and Matthew Alexander circa 2008?

Alexander: In the 40 some years between when these songs were recorded and now, I have become more financially self-sufficient and confident, less melancholy, and more complete as a person. In other words, I have grown up. As a songwriter, I have changed as well. "Bring Your Friends Home, David" (which appears on Early Recordings) was representative of a whole style of writing which I have since abandoned. In fact, sadly, it is the only remnant; I simply can’t remember the other songs, and they were never recorded. These songs were all very intricate, used multiple rhythm changes, leaned heavily on finger-picking and classical guitar styles and were pensive story songs. I got tired, however, of writing tunes that were so complex musically that no one could play along with me and so I dropped the format. However, I am delighted that this one song still remains. "Reap What You Sow" (another song that appears on Early Recordings) is a message or protest song that was a popular genre in the '60s and '70s. I avoid writing message songs now and try to write lyrics from a more universal and general perspective that allows for multiple interpretations. Also, I think my music has changed from my earlier days in that I am striving now to blend the different styles I was experimenting with at that time (i.e. country, pop, folk rock, and folk) into one style that incorporates jazzy rhythms and chord changes. Finally, after taking singing lessons, I have learned to sing from my diaphragm rather than my throat and so am able to achieve what I think is a far better and more relaxed vocal tone now. In terms of what has not changed, however, I still seek to write songs that have emotional resonance, still love playing the acoustic guitar, and I am still in pursuit of writing that “perfect” song.

Andrews: You were in a songwriting class offered by Paul Simon. Describe that experience and what did you learn from him back then that you’ve never forgotten?

Alexander: Paul Simon was my idol when I was in my twenties. Next to the Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel were my biggest influence. I loved their music and songs. And so when my sister-in-law told me that she could get me into a class that Simon was teaching at NYU, I was floored. Since the class had already been filled, however, I could only sit in on one session. Simon was late to the class and when he walked in he seemed shorter than I expected (gods are always tall in one’s mind’s eye). As a newcomer with a guitar, he immediately spotted me and asked me to play a song or two for the class. He complimented my finger picking style on the first song I played ("Nancy’s On My Mind" which appears on Daredevil Angel) and asked me to play another song. I proceeded to play "Bring Your Friends Home, David," a six-and-a-half minute finger style song with multiple chord changes written from a mother’s perspective about her young son who gets killed by a car. When I finished playing the song, Simon surprisingly asked me to sing it again which I did. When I finished the second time, he asked each member of the class to give their opinion of the song. Half the class loved the song and half the class hated it. Simon proceeded to ask me if the song was based on a real person named David. I said “no,” and he opined critically that songs should only have the name of a real person in them. He proceeded to say that he thought my song was maudlin and then blithely went on to ask others in the class to play their songs. When, at the end of the class, I shamelessly walked up to him and asked how to contact him again, he gave me the number of his agent. I knew this was a brush-off and never called. I didn’t agree with Simon at the time about songs having to have real names in them and still don’t agree with him on that count. In fact, I am more likely to choose a name for its phonic qualities than its reference to the actual person (or persons) that inspired the song.

However, I still learned some valuable lessons from my idol in that one session. One lesson is that it is OK to take your time to work on a lyric, even if it takes years to complete. He played for the class a fragment of a song entitled “Armistice Day” which he had been working on for a long time. I later heard it on one of his solo recordings. These days, I am apt to take as much time as I need on a lyric and have learned to be a lot more patient with the songwriting process. Another lesson I took from that one class with Paul is that you don’t have to have a “big” voice to be a successful singer. Simon had what seemed like a “small” voice in person but it was plenty big when he used microphones in the studio or in concert.

Andrews: Were these tunes recorded for a label? What happened after you made them?

Alexander: Two of the songs on Early Recordings ("Going My Way" and "Crying") were demos recorded for Musicor Records in New York City in 1971. Musicor had produced and released several of Gene Pitney’s hits in the '50s.  I had just turned 21 at this time and was awestruck to be in their studios, next to huge posters of Pitney and framed gold records of his hits.  They hired a studio pianist to back me, and I recorded demos of four original songs for them. Musicor was run by a father and son team. It turned out that the son wanted to sign me but the Dad nixed the deal and that was that. "Bring Your Friends Home, David" was recorded and produced by Lou Stallman, an award-winning songwriter who wrote the N.Y. Yankees theme song and co-wrote the standards "It’s Gonna Take A Miracle" and "Round and Round." Lou had “discovered” me in a summer camp in 1966 where he came yearly to produce a musical with the camp teenagers. He would spend a week at camp teaching the teens to write their own songs upon which the musical would ultimately be based. Stallman liked my guitar playing and proceeded to groom me as a songwriter over the next few years, something publishers did back in the '60s. He went on to publish "Bring Your Friends Home, David" with his company, Think Stallman Music, and pitched it (unsuccessfully) to record companies, probably as something of a novelty song. Some of the other songs on Early Recordings were demos made for Four Star Music, an L.A. based publishing company. I had found their name in the phone book when I arrived in Los Angeles and called them to arrange an audition with their song screener, who turned out to be an attractive, red-headed woman named Jody. I simply walked into her office and played my songs for her on the guitar. She was very enthusiastic and responsive and went on to demo and publish three songs ("Counting the Hours," "When We Say Goodbye," and "Give It Away"). Back then, when a publisher published your song, they paid for the recordings, which were then transferred to little acetate records (like 45s) and had formal lead sheets constructed. As someone who never learned to read music (much to my father’s chagrin who was a classical composer), it was quite a thrill to see my melodies “in print.” Four Star pitched the songs to multiple recording artists who “held” them but ultimately chose not to record them. Fortunately, my songs were all published with reverse clauses that allowed me to retain rights to them in the event that they were not recorded.

Andrews: What was the coffee house scene like back then?

Alexander: Back in the '60s, coffee houses were coffee houses not laptop-oriented establishments serving Starbucks coffee, iced lattes and chocolate cappuccino frappes. The coffee houses were often housed in churches or universities and provided stark furnishings and simple refreshments, mostly black coffee with milk and cookies. The whole attraction was the acoustic music. I headlined for many years at the Nameless Coffeehouse in Harvard Square (where the photo for the front cover of Early Recordings was shot) and, in retrospect, marvel at the innocence and purity of that experience.

When I first arrived in Cambridge, Massachusetts in 1967, the historic folk club Club 47 was still around. I will never forget seeing legendary acts like Joni Mitchell, Gordon Lightfoot and Tim Buckley perform there. The sound was awesome and you got to sit so close to the artists that you could almost reach out and touch them while they performed. Hearing music in Club 47 was like going to church; it was a religious experience. No one talked, no one stood, no one texted; we just soaked up every word and every note of every song.

http://alexandertunes.com

1. "All The Lovely Ladies" (Gordon Lightfoot)
2. "Urge For Going" (Joni Mitchell)
3. "Out Among The Stars" (Joni Mitchell)
4. "Jesus Was A Capricorn" (Kris Kristofferson)
5. "The Devil" (Hoyt Axton)
6. "James" (Lyle Mays and Pat Metheny)
7. "Frisco Depot" (Mickey Newbury)
8. "American Tune" (Paul Simon)
9. "Nobody Eats At Linebaugh's Anymore" (John Hartford)
10. "Joan Of Arc" (Leonard Cohen)
11. "I Don't Believe You (She Acts Like We Never Met)" (Bob Dylan)
12. "That Old Time Feeling" (Guy Clark)

In addition to remastered stereo, High Resolution 5.1 Surround Sound and mixes of the original album, the re-release will include a 2008 interview with Nash, photos and lyrics. Rhino plans to continue their treatment of Nash with a 3-CD retrospective box set in early 2009. No word yet on contents for the box set.

Full press release follows:

Graham Nash Songs For Beginners Due 9/23 

This girl is the savior who turned me on to Joni Mitchell 12 years ago, after we debated which was a better lay for James Taylor--Carly Simon or Joni Mitchell. At the time I vehemently argued that Carly was, until L. made me a Joni mix tape. A few rounds of Blue, Court and Spark, and For The Roses convinced me that not only was Joni likely a better lay, but also a better musician and songwriter. From that point on I was indebted to L.

Unfortunately, we still live miles and miles away from each other, so offering company, a bottle of Cabernet and/or excessive amounts of Belgian beer and cranking Joni (which usually turns into a classic rock trivia game involving Joni, Zeppelin, The Who, The Beatles, etc.) is a little out of the question. Normally I would have picked up the phone, but this time I opted for the most reliable source known: Joni. I emailed an mp3 of Lesson in Survival, a song that I always think of when things overall suck:

Lesson in Survival
Spinning out on turns
That gets you tough

There are times when I really feel like my friends are far better to me than I am to them; that I don't do enough to show gratitude for their ears and hearts. I forget birthdays and anniversaries. I usually never have enough money to buy their kids the gifts I'd like to. Anything involving a greeting card takes me two weeks to send, by which time, the life event has passed. My internal debate/excuse is, "Well, I BOUGHT the card a month before the event. I just didn't know what to write without sounding saccharine or fake for four weeks." This excuse flies in my own brain, but doesn't go over so well with friends who know that I have a degree in English and write for a hobby. My rebuttal is usually pretty simple: it's HARD writing for or to people you care about!

And then there are other times and other friends who get it; who know how much I do care. This one got it and sent me the best email I've received in ages, "...how do you always know what's going on in my head?"

Thank God we wont have to honour our 30-year-old-and-single agreement though (everyone has one of those, right?). The thought of spending the second half of my life sleeping next to his hairy back and loud snoring is enough to tip anyone over the edge, no matter how desperate and middle aged they might get.

I was over the moon when he told me he was going to propose to her, and even more over the moon (if that's possible..) when she said yes. I cried (happy-cried!) when they announced their engagement, and almost died of shock (and fear) when his fiancé asked me to be her bridesmaid (let's face it, it's not like I could have been best man).

And so, we celebrated their engagement in the traditional way. We went out, got ridiculously drunk, ate a burger from a van on the way home, and when everyone else collapsed on their beds - my best friend and I carried on drinking, and collapsed on the kitchen floor, about 6am, in each others arms. Just like old times.

Somewhere in between all those drunken frolics, there was the moment when my best friend decided to pull me to one side and inform me (me, the fucking bridesmaid, who was helping his fiancé plan the wedding, choose the dresses, the flowers, the car, the everything) that actually, he 'probably shouldn't be getting married' to his fiancé. I asked why not, and he said

Because, actually, I should probably be marrying you.

F-uck.

I've known my best friend since we were kids. We're actually more like brother and sister than we are friends. He's probably the only person in the world that I'd actually and honestly lay down my life for. I love him more than anyone I've ever met or will ever meet. But I don't love him.

I dealt with the situation in the most mature manner I could muster after one (or twelve) too many beers.. I handed him a shot of tequila and told him not to be a tit.

An arguably more sober attempt at the conversation, the next morning, revealed more than I wanted to hear.

No one understands me like you, and no one understands everything about you like me. She's not you, she doesn't compare. I love her, but she's not everything. She's not you. I've never tried to love you, I ruled it out, I just stopped at platonic.. How can I marry a woman who I'm constantly hoping will be more like you? Better with kids, better at listening, better at making me laugh. Better at loving me. Better at just being you.

I'd known this man before he could even be called a boy. I had known him when he pulled my hair and knocked my sandcastles down. I'd never even entertained the thought that we were meant to be anything more than best friends, phone-calls at 4am friends, share a bed and actually sleep friends. And in that awful moment, somewhere between wanting her to be better, wanting her to change, wanting her to be more like me, and wanting me to just be more - we lost everything we'd built over 15 years.

And now, I'm torn between helping his fiancé plan this farce of a wedding, and telling my best friend to pull himself together, and pull out. She is perfect for him. But in all honesty, I get it. I get that no one compares, I get that no one will ever be enough. I get that sometimes you stay with someone who isn't quite your everything.

But truthfully, I expected more from him. And honestly, I'm scared that everything we had was built on a lie. I'm scared that we will never find anyone who comes close to what we are to each other. That we'll never find anyone who has 4am phone calls with Joni Mitchell playing in the background, that we'll never find anyone who doesn't judge us, who doesn't forgive and forget like we do.

I've never met anyone who I can honestly say I've wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Not even the-other-half. Because I've always known that I've got a proper other-half, one who I don't need to marry to spend the rest of my life with - one who will just be there, no matter what.

It's not about settling. It's about knowing when you're lucky, knowing when you've got something that most people spend their whole lives searching for.

And knowing that, has, and always will be more than enough for me. Because we've got more than most people find in an entire lifetime. And to risk friendship for love, for marriage and sex, and all those traditional, expected mistakes - would be giving up something more precious than we will ever be blessed to find again.

I never loved a man
I trusted
As far as I could pitch my shoe..
’til I loved you.
I’m a lucky girl,
I found my friend..
( Joni Mitchell - Lucky Girl )

Here is Dekker's poem from the 16th century:

Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,

Smiles awake you when you rise.

Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,

And I will sing a lullaby;

Rock them, rock them, lullaby.

Care is heavy, therefore sleep you;

You are care, and care must keep you.

Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,

And I will sing a lullaby;

Rock them, rock them, lullaby.

Pretty, isn't it?

She just started learning the Blue Scales on the piano. Very beautiful. I showed her Ray Charles playing on YouTube. I think she was inspired.

Obama
I bought Obama's The Audacity of Hope a few weeks back. While I will admit Barack is a decent writer, I found it, overall, pretty boring. If you're into policy, congressional history, mixed in with a little autobiography, you'll like it. Otherwise, skip it or read the excerpts on the net.

I left the book thinking, despite his grandiose ideals (that I just happen to share), he's not such a great husband or father. He's got that only child, my-job-is-so-important-that-it-compromises-my-family-life vibe going. Then again, these are likely GOOD qualities for a leader of the "most powerful" country in the free world. Like any great writer, artist, or leader, I guess something has to give. In this case, we get an inspiring leader, while his kids and wife get a part-time father and husband.

I'm not buying 100% into his rhetoric, yet can't help but appreciate the words and ways of thinking. Sadly, I kind of feel like he already sold out. The title of this book was inspired by a 1990 sermon from Jermiah Wright (a piece written in reflection of George Frederic Watts painting, "Hope"), the man he dropped like a hot potato following the now infamous Wright sermons on AIDS, 9/11, and White America.

The audacity of hope.

That was the best of the American Spirit, I thought--having the audacity to believe despite all the evidence to the contrary that we could restore a sense of community to a nation torn by conflict; the gall to believe that despite personal setbacks, the loss of a job or an illness in the family or a childhood mired in poverty, we had some control---and therefore responsibility--over our own fate.

It was this audacity, I thought, that joined us as one people. It was that pervasive spirit of hope that tied my own family's story to the larger American story.

Lieberman
What's the deal with his choice to speak at the Republican National Convention? Is he really this desperate for attention or is he merely "socking it to" the Dems for screwing his previous election? Either way, I tend to believe that his presence doesn't make him look like some rebel, but more like an A-hole.

Cindy McCain
I never liked this woman. There. I said it. After this was covered on NPR the other day, I found yet another reason to strongly dislike her. Now, I know First Ladies aren't exactly running for president, but the person you chose as your running mate in life certainly has a reflection on YOU. I never inherently hated McCain, but his wife, on the other hand, is quite a piece of work.

Just Me
I really hope the next 4 years will bring better times than the last 8. Not that I blame GW or 9/11 for all of my life's tribulations, but this certainly hasn't been a great time to come into adulthood.

I randomly heard "American Pie" on the radio the other night. The last time I heard that tune was the night GW was elected for the second time. I remember being on the 290 in my beat up mercury tracer station wagon and gulping back tears at the irony of the timing. I know I'll never again be that wide-eyed 23 year old, coming to a new town with high hopes and aspirations. It'd be nice to come in from the cold.

We really thought we had a purpose
We were so anxious to achieve
We had hope
The world held promise
For a slave to liberty
Freely I slaved away for something better
And I was bought and sold
And all I ever wanted
Was to come in from the cold

I live next door to a legend. That may seem to be an overstatement, but it's true. There once was a young girl named Jennie Pearl who, when she was the tender age of fourteen or fifteen back in the late sixties, developed a love of music and playing piano and guitar. This sweet innocent child became friends with a few people of like minds and together they created the Peoria Folk Anthology Group.

This story all came about by accident, which is the usual way great stories start. One day our electricity was out and I went next door to the Hayes residence to ask if their electricity was out as well wondering if was a neighborhood problem or a personal house problem. Jennie answered the door and in the background I could hear the sounds of a man singing loudly. It wasn't the greatest of voices, but a pleasant one and I smiled hearing this candid neighbor moment. I asked about the electricity to which Jennie replied yes, theirs was out as well and then turned to leave but pivoted to tell Jennie, "I sing a lot myself and if you and your hubby would like to do Karaoke sometime, just let me know." Jennie's face took a sudden strange turn. In fact, enough to set me on the path home quickly. It wasn't a smile, or frown, it was just like she had escaped to another place. Frankly, I worried that perhaps I had offended her with my offer of cheap entertainment.

I really didn't know Jennie and Alan very well. They'd moved into the home next to ours the previous year, and we would smile and wave to each other with occasional comments about the neighborhood deer and raccoons that run rampant in our yards. I'd wanted to strike up a friendship with her. Jennie always reminds me a bit of Lee Remick, yes the actress from Hitchcock thrillers and movies of the sixties and seventies. Except Jennie seemed more fragile, prettier, and a lot more shy than a Lee Remick.

Fast forward approximately two weeks. In this two weeks, however, I had thought many times about the strange look on Jennie's face and had worried many times throughout those days about having offended her. I was in the throws of yet another Midwest Garage Sale and working in the garage quite a bit. On one of these days, Jennie's husband Alan came home and I happened to see him pull in and waved hello. On my driveway was a cloth covered guitar case, an extra one I'd owned and had decided to part with. Alan came across and headed directly towards it. "Are you selling a guitar?" he asked in a very excited voice. I explained that no it was only the case and then the story of Jennie began. "I'm looking for a guitar for Jennie. I just found out she used to play guitar. In fact, Jennie is well known, and neither of us knew anything about it." Well, this of course, piqued my interest immediately for two reasons. I had played guitar for a LONG time and the fact there was another musician on my street thrilled my soul! "In fact," he continued, "one of Jennie's songs is on a CD. We just found out about it. She's even getting royalty checks for it. Guess people have been trying to find her. Some guy from the New York Times called her while she was at work and scared her to death. Have ya got a minute? Let me run home, I put together something for her that I want to show you."

Alan's eye were afire with excitement and pride as he strode quickly across my yard over through his garage and into the sweet little brick home he and Jennie have made. I was left standing helplessly in a bit of shock on my driveway, not knowing if I should go inside, or wait where I stood. I decided to wait where I stood and it was a good thing because Alan emerged quickly with a huge framed object about three feet long in his hand.

"When we got the first letter from the guy from the "Times" I decided to look Jennie's name up online and I found several people had done reviews on her song."

He had handed me the large frame and I looked in disbelief at the letterhead from the New York Times reporter's letter which said things like, "We've been looking for you everywhere. You have a large following of fans. Wonderful to have spoken to you." And, there were a couple of other pieces of paper which were actually the downloaded comments that Alan had printed off. Here's an excerpt from one:

Salon.com - March 14th 2006
Numero Group's latest, "Wayfaring Strangers: Ladies From the Canyon," compiles one track each from 14 of the probably thousands of obscure she-folkies who sprouted up in the early '70s, trailing in the wake of the grand pooh-bah of she-folkies herself, Joni Mitchell. If it seems odd to bother compiling the work of transparently derivative artists, it's worth considering that if a scholar were to sift through the compositions of the legions of stylistically similar but patently inferior composers who labored under the shadow of, say, Mozart, he or she would certainly turn up a large number of gems -- for even middling artists often have one concentrated burst of inspiration in them, the products of which would be lost forever in a sea of mediocrity were it not for intrepid curators like the Numero Group, who have rescued some pretty astonishing specimens and presented them on this wonderful release. My favorite is the haunting, heartbroken "Maybe in Another Year," which has a piano introduction that sounds like the work of a child trying to copy Mitchell's flowing piano style -- which, indeed, it is, this being one of two songs ever recorded by 15-year-old Jennie Pearl.

I know there was more, but I honestly couldn't grasp it all. I'd love to see it again to really look at what he had shown me.

I've sung and played guitar since I was sixteen years old. My life revolved around communities about 60 miles west of Peoria in my younger years and then encompassed the Peoria area during the 80's, 90's and even now. I explained this to Alan and told him how much I'd love to just get together with Jennie and talk about her experiences and share a bit of music. Then Alan handed me a CD.

"This is the CD I told you about. It's called "Ladies From The Canyon.""

I took it from his shaking hands. He was shaking with excitement and the elation he was feeling from sharing this amazing story about his wife. "I didn't even know she could sing, or play guitar!" he said as I walked over to a boom box I had in my garage. "I found out by accident. We went to a wedding of one of her relatives and they asked Jennie to sing. I was sitting on the ground level and Jennie was in the balcony. And then she started singing and I was in shock. I didn't know she could sing so well." Obviously the shaking was contagious. I gingerly took the disc from the CD case and put it on the player. Alan was talking, something about the track numbers. I was in Euphoria. It was as if I had held the Holy Grail myself as I pushed play. And then this lovely piano began to play and a voice as innocent and gentle as I have ever heard came wafting through my speakers. I was immediately hypnotized and in awe. The melody was haunting, and the sound of a very young girl, who must have been very wise beyond her years poured out her soul in the simplest terms, but one that clutched my heart with it's power.

I know I must have been standing there with my mouth open as I listened in awe. And even when it ended I didn't know what to say. Truly there were no words to express what I'd heard. I handed the CD back to Alan and we shared a brief "Yeah I know" moment before he turned with the three foot frame and the CD and began to leave. "You know, I really want her to start singing again. She needs to do it for herself. I don't know why she stopped." I told him I would try to get into a conversation with her at the earliest convenience and see how she felt about it. Alan nodded and returned home while I stood standing in my driveway, totally spent. I remember the feeling of floating. Like I'd been witness to something absolutely ethereal and even Holy! But this was only the beginning of my journey into learning about my neighbor, the lovely, the haunting and haunted Jennie Pearl. TO BE CONTINUED!

I will always be a romantic and I will always love bards, knights, and troubadours if only in my dreams. I definitely have been channeling my romanticism into Gemini Rising. It's a tarnished, even tragic, romanticism, but it's there. Turning naturally to fashion, as usual for this time of year, I've been coming up with some ideas for my fall fashion statement and I'm thinking about attempting this look. It certainly looks like high maintenance, but worth it. I'm already half-way home with the gray hair and I think I have a coat like this in my closet...hmmm add the eyeliner, throw in a little snow and a few baubles...I'm so there!

We were so young. I remember thinking that it was amazing that Dylan was out on the road again, performing again, at the ripe old age of...what, I guess ol' Bob was about 35 years old!

There was an afternoon show and an evening show on Nov. 15, 1975. We went to the evening show with two girl friends. Here's the set list from the show we attended: (not including songs by other performers -- the featured guest star when we saw Rolling Thunder was Joni Mitchell):

When I Paint My Masterpiece
It Ain't Me, Babe
It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry
The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll
Romance In Durango
Isis
Blowin' In The Wind
I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine
Never Let Me Go
Mama, You Been On My Mind
I Shall Be Released
Love Minus Zero/No Limit
Tangled Up In Blue
Oh, Sister
Hurricane
One More Cup Of Coffee (Valley Below)
Sara
Just Like A Woman
Knockin' On Heaven's Door
This Land Is Your Land

Friend Phil recalls this: I remember clearly the rendition of "Tangled Up In Blue', when he changed the lyric "Some are carpenters' wives" to "Some are truck drivers' wives".

Me, I remember that the most impressive and thrilling songs were the songs from the new album "Desire" -- "Romance in Durango," "Oh Sister," "Hurricane," "One More Cup of Coffee" and "Sara"; the powerful symbolism of Dylan and his merry band doing a finale of "This Land Is Your Land" in tribute to Woody Guthrie and with a nod toward the upcoming bicentennial (as an idiot wind blew from the Grand Coulee Dam to the Capitol...); and, I believe, a duet with none-other-than Joan Baez on "Mama you've Been On My Mind." I remember being in a bar in Niagara Falls when a girl I knew ran in and excitedly handed me a handbill she'd just been handed by some guy on the street -- a handbill for the Rolling Thunder Revue.

I remember that a girl named Lee -- blonde and beautiful Lee -- came with me to the concert, to which I wore a stupid black fedora, which fedora Lee decided sometime during that evening to wear over her long golden locks, and I never saw that fedora again. As I recall, we had great seats in the middle orchestra, no more than ten rows back from the stage. I have a vivid image of Dylan wearing that clear plastic mask and a hat just like the hat he wears on the cover of "Desire" and he's standing at the microphone without his guitar doing a sort of hipster pantomine as he sings "Isis." I remember falling in love, alternately, with Joni Mitchell, Roni Blakely and Scarlet Rivera. I remember that the show opened with a song by Ramblin' Jack Elliot, who was dressed very much like Dylan and looked very much like Dylan and until he started singing many people in the audience were cheering because they mistakenly thought he WAS Bob Dylan.

Memories of Rolling Thunder from more than thirty years ago....still echoing as I listened last night to the sound of distant thunder and flashes of light in the northwest sky...as my son and I get ready to head North for this weekend's show in Saratoga Springs featuring Bob Dylan and his band with LEVON HELM and others. I promise to not wear a black fedora and I promise to report back on this coming Sunday's performance by the man my friend and fellow writer Steve Hart has dubbed "His Bobness."

The problem with over-promoted musos is that they can’t possibly live up to the advanced billing.

Having suddenly become very aware of her, I automatically put American chanteuse Melody Gardot in this category.

But then, watching Channel 4’s Live From Abbey Road for the first time on Friday, to catch the great Herbie Hancock, I stumbled upon Melody in a live performance from Herbie’s recent album, River: The Joni Letters.

My, my – what a distinctive voice. Gardot’s beautiful tone and her innate swing enlivened Mitchell’s Edith and The Kingpin, an already great song.

I’ll be watching closely for more recordings and performances from Melody Gardot, one of my most striking recent music for grown-ups discoveries.

Or watch them here individually below (it's just a random order)

Rolling Stones, performing Satisfaction in 1966 on Ed Sullivan

Dusty Springfield, performing But Bacharach's "The Look of Love" in 1967

Donovan, performing his "Catch the Wind" in 1964

Little Stevie Wonder, performing Fingertips

James Brown, performing It's a Man's World

Johnny Cash, performing A Boy Named Sue

Ritchie Havens, performing Freedom at Woodstock in 1969

Joni Mitchell, performing her 60's hit Both Sides Now in 1970

Mamas & the Papas, performing California Dreamin' at Monterey Pop Festival in 1967

Howlin' Wolf, performing How Many More Years on Shindig (at the insistence of the Stones) in 1965

Bob Dylan, performing Just Like a Woman

Booker T & the MGs, performing Green Onions

Animals, performing Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell Ty  performing Ain't No Mountain High Enough

Aretha Franklin, performing Natural Woman in 1967

Crosby, Stills & Nash, performing Marrakesh Express in 1969 at Woodstock

Santana, performing soul Sacrifice in 1969 at Woodstock

Paul Butterfield, performing Driftin' Blues in 1969 at Woodstock (with David Sandborn)

Dionne Warwick, performing But Bacharach's Walk on By

Righteous Brothers, performing You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin' in 1964

Jimi Hendrix, performing Purple Haze at the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967

Beatles, performing I Saw Her Standing There in 1965 in Washington, DC

Cream, performing Crossraods 1968

Elvis, Lawdy Miss Claudie

Tom Jones, It's Not Unusual

Spenser Davis Group, Gimme Some Lovin'

Johnny Winter, performing Mean Town Blues at Woodstock 1969

Beach Boys, In My Room

Beatles, performing All You Need is Love on the world's first global sat broadcast in 1967