A Minor Change in Plans

Number One Son called yesterday about five minutes before I was out the door and on my way to Clovis. I had completely forgotten (a) Saturdays feature “The NHL on NBC,” and (b) The Wings were playing the Avs. Change in plans. I can wash the frickin’ car any ole day of the week (except for Sundays: Blue Laws in a Red State). Wings vs. Avs don’t happen just any ole time, however. So, it’s hockey.

Great game. It’s always good when the Wings win, and so they did, 3 – 0. The Wings have won all three games against the Avs this year, two of them in Denver. The first two periods were scoreless, and then the Wings turned it ON in the third period. Manny Legace was superb in goal, and all three Wings goals were highlight-reel quality. An entertaining game.

I made a fateful decision just before settling in to watch the game yesterday. The sun was well over the yardarm, so I decided to have a couple of Fat Tires while watching the game. Make that three. After the game was over and Number One Son and I had replayed the best bits, something very akin to a Persistent Vegetative State overcame me. I laid myself down for a “short nap” and woke up several hours later, hungry as all Hell but not motivated enough to cook. A quick trip out to a fast-food emporium solved both of the immediate problems. Left unsolved was my complete and utter lack of motivation to do anything productive. I spent the remainder of yesterday’s waking moments (and they were brief) on the couch before falling back asleep.

That’ll teach me to drink beer in the middle of the day.

Yesterday’s song of the day had a few great contenders. The nominees were: The Ramones’ “I Wanna Be Sedated,” Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London,” and Mick Jagger’s “Memo From Turner.”

May I have the envelope, please?

And the winner is… Memo From Turner!

Song: Memo From Turner

Artist: Mick Jagger

Album: Performance (Soundtrack from the film of the same name)

Year: 1970

Source: Radio Paradise. Check out their playlist.

Makes Me Think of & etc.: I first heard this song in 1970, on either KLOS or KMET out of Los Angeles. I’d just returned to the US from a two-year exile at Wakkanai AS in northern Japan and was stationed at Boron AFS, CA. Part of the “burn-in” process of returning home was a re-immersion in the US radio scene. And I did immerse myself! I spent nearly every waking hour when I wasn’t working listening to that wonderful LA FM radio, jotting down notes and subsequently buying music that I heard and liked. (mini-rant) 1970 was arguably the apogee of the “free-form” commercial rock radio format, characterized by real, live DJs playing music they liked, as opposed to what we get today: music from a highly researched, focus-group-validated and extremely limited play list, tailored to fit the target demographics of a radio station. As previously noted, college radio and to some extent, internet radio, are exceptions. (/mini-rant)

Back to “Memo.” I don’t own the album this song is taken from, but I wish I did. I firmly believe Jagger's at his best when he sings the blues, and the Stones have cut some great blues originals and covers. Plus, there’s some FINE slide guitar playing on the Performance album, mostly from Ry Cooder, but rumor has it the late Lowell George (of Little Feat fame) and Mick Taylor also played on this album. I’m a fan of both Little Feat (the original band, not the resurrected incarnation) and Ry Cooder. There’s disagreement as to who actually played the slide guitar on “Memo,” but my money’s on Ry Cooder. Cooder's style is distinctive, there's not many who can match his slide playing. Here’s more commentary on the “Performance” soundtrack; here’s a track list for “Performance,” plus more commentary on the album in the comments section. (Memo to self: BUY this album!)

Lyrics:

Didn't I see you down in San Antone on a hot and dusty night?
We were eating eggs in Sammy's when the black man there drew his knife.
Aw, you drowned that Jew in Rampton as he washed his sleeveless shirt,
You know, that Spanish-speaking gentlemen, the one we all called "Kurt."

Come now, gentleman, I know there's some mistake.
How forgetful I'm becoming, now you fixed your bus'ness straight.

I remember you in Hemlock Road in nineteen fifty-six.
You're a faggy little leather boy with a smaller piece of stick.
You're a lashing, smashing hunk of man;
Your sweat shines sweet and strong.
Your organs working perfectly, but there's a part that's not screwed on.

Weren't you at the Coke convention back in nineteen sixty-five
You're the misbred, grey executive I've seen heavily advertised.
You're the great, gray man whose daughter licks policemen's buttons clean.
You're the man who squats behind the man who works the soft machine.

Come now, gentleman, your love is all I crave.
You'll still be in the circus when I'm laughing, laughing on my grave.

When the old men do the fighting and the young men all look on.
And the young girls eat their mothers meat from tubes of plasticon.
Be wary of these my gentle friends of all the skins you breed.
They have a tasty habit - they eat the hands that bleed.

So remember who you say you are and keep your noses clean.
Boys will be boys and play with toys so be strong with your beast.
Oh Rosie dear, doncha think it's queer, so stop me if you please.
The baby is dead, my lady said, "You gentlemen, why you all work for me!"

I'm wondering what happened to my latest "Images of New Mexico" post. It's gone missing, and that is REALLY strange. First time I've had that happen to me. I'll repost in a bit.

So, it’s more of the same today. More Radio Paradise…I can’t get enough of these guys! A lil more ‘net surfing and some disconnected thoughts that may result in an essay later on today. Or not. A typical Sunday in P-Town.