Someday Soon I Know, We’ll All Have To Go

 

“Dreaming Casually” by Thee Midniters slows me down in a good way.

This song starts off all a-shimmer and just slinks its way into your brain. It’s smooth, warm, like a piece of polished obsidian.

Thee Midniters came out of East L.A. and are considered the first “chicano rock” band. They had a couple of hits. but like many other chicano acts that were uneasily categorized, they never hit it super big. I was listening recently to an interview with Sixto Rodriguez  (I’m currently obsessed with his second album, a big flop when it came out in 1972).  Rodriguez, who was from Detroit and Mexican-American had a difficult time, too, trying to find his audience. Strangely enough he was huge in Australia, and even odder, South Africa!

Enjoy this dreamy little number.

Dreaming Casually- Thee Midniters

Be Not So Fearful

I went to my friends Michelle and Jordan’s wedding a couple of weeks ago. It was a super special wedding celebrating two really superb human beings. During the ceremony, the piano player played  and sang “Be Not So Fearful” by Bill Fay, which I thought was incredibly sweet. The message of the song is basically, you know, move on and forget the past.

These songs have been jingling in my head all winter. I’m shedding them, I suppose, with this mix. If I could curate the event, I would have you listen to it accordingly: with the cocktail of your choice (I’m feeling generous), half-heartedly watching a VHS copy of Nightmare Alley on your television in silent mode, wearing argyle socks and soft cotton pyjamas (the fabric of our lives) covered by a monogrammed robe, in a room with lots of books and interesting ephemera, surrounded by three or four loved ones drinking cocktails of their choice, with rain gently pelting on the windowpanes ( a really dramatic, giant window would be great, like the one Mrs. Danvers stands in front of in Hitchcock’s Rebecca). 

I am a sentimental old schmuck. Let’s say it in unison.

Here’s to old things and making them new.

Nature Boy- Nat King Cole

The Air That I Breathe- The Hollies

I went to Sleep- Beach Boys

Cause- Rodriguez

Hammond Song- The Roches

You And Me- Penny & The Quarters

I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times- Hugh Masekela

Handbags and Gladrags- Chris Farlowe

The Crying Game- Dave Berry

Oh My Love- John Lennon

A Rainy Night in Georgia- Tony Joe White

If I Could Read your Mind- Skeeter Davis

Good Time Charlie’s Got The Blues- Elvis Presley

Isn’t It A Pity- Nicky Thomas

Don’t Forget Me- Marianne Faithfull (live)

Love Song- Olivia Newton John

The Nightengale- Julee Cruise

Be Not So Fearful- Bill Fay

Helpless- Buffy St. Marie

Shipbuilding- Robert Wyatt

Never My Love- The Sandpebbles

The Gentle Rain- Irene Kral

Felicity- Fred Neil

Be Not So Fearful

Going Home

My friend Gerard passed away this morning. He was a phenomenal musician. He was very intuitive when it came to people. He connected with you. If he liked you he let you know. Often, he let you know by ribbing you and being grumpy. He encouraged creativity. He told me to finish my book.  He’d kick me in the ass when I was flaky. He was sensitive when my mother died, in a way many other people didn’t know how to be.  Gerard was a consumer, but not in an annoying way. He was a patron of good businesses. When you travelled through the hood with him, you knew that your journey was a curated journey. It would be good. He was handsome. He was paternal. He had very old eyes. He’d been around the block before. I’ll miss the dude a lot. My love goes out to Jessica, his lady friend,  and his son Julian. Also, the guys in the band, all his people in Brooklyn, and the rest of his family, adopted and otherwise. There’s no way to wrap it up nicely. He’ll be missed and so many people are crying tonight.

The Water Is Wide- The Beers Family

How Does It Feel To Just Stare At The Ceiling All Night?

This is the spastic Ronnie Spector track that’s been getting me going lately.

How Does It Feel- The Ronettes

The Constitution Ain’t Nothin’ But A Piece of Paper

“Winter in America” is the title track  from the 1974 Gil Scott-Heron/Brian Jackson album. Brian Jackson was a frequent collaborator with Scott-Heron; their association was washed up by 1980, but they put out some classic albums together, with Jackson expanding musically upon what was essentially Scott-Heron’s spoken word. Gil Scott-Heron is in my opinion the best poet laureate the United States never had.

Gil Scott-Heron has received serious accolades for his latest album, I’m New Here, and it is well-deserved. He’s never compromised being just who he is. The fact that he’s a crack addict is nothing he hides, as the writer for this New Yorker article found it (subscription required). And the fact that he is a crack addict, after years of warning America that America is going down the tubes, somehow reinforces for me the truth and power of his words.

I find myself getting stuck on certain songs from his back-catalogue, and find that this is an appropriate tune for the time. It is winter in America, over 35 years later.

Below is the official video for my favorite track off of I’m New Here. I guess I have a penchant for title tracks.

Christmas Greetings from The Gentlebear

Truck Drivers delivering toys. Pacman, Ms Pacman, and Baby Pacman rhapsodizing over the beauty of the winter wonderland. Santa riding a rocket into space. Christmas boogies. Spilled egg nog. Friendship is the wine of life. The older it gets, the stronger it grows. If you want to hear Jerry Reed singing a coked-out song about anticipating the joy of the Christmas season, download this mix.

I hope you have a terrific holiday! Happy New Year and all that jazz.

Christmas With The Gentlebear 2010

The Almighty Hawk, Mr. Wind

I don’t know how I kept this song off my radar for so long. Lou Rawls recalls his childhood in the windy city, on a dead-end street, “where there was nothin’ to block the wind, the elements- Nothin’ to buffer them from me… to keep them from knocking my pad down- I mean, really sockin’ it to me!”

It’s not that cold yet in New York, but the the Christmas lights are already lit on my street by the old Italian club that demands 50 bucks from business owners to fund the thing.  The 99-cent stores already have a Christmas aisle.   The pharmacy is playing Christmas music. Soon enough we’ll be in the dead of winter. I intend to bring the music more frequently this winter. The somber, lonely stuff that one feels like listening to as the sun fades away at 4:30 in the afternoon. Which is the best time to start drinking, no?

Mark Twain and Bret Harte were apparently drinking buddies. Twain visited the Old Crow distillery in the 1880s, and was a fan of the sour mash. I would love to sit in front of a fire with a pal reading to me their latest draft of great American literature, while sipping on the crow.

Dead End Street- Lou Rawls

(having some issue with my file sharer, hope this one delivers)