"Ronnie always embarrasses me anywhere I go. He's always bringin' up some little 'snuggy' and he'll say '
kris, look at her man. She's as sweet as a mother's love and as clean as an angel's drawers.' He just embarrasses the hell outta me.
"Then the Hawk will say, 'You know its about as hard to get Kris Kristofferson laid as giving away a gram of Cocaine at a Willie Nelson concert.'
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Ronnie (the Hawk) sez......................
The Hawk sez, I'm so old Moby Dick was just a minnow and the Dead Sea wasn't even sick.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Elvis Has Left the Dispensary
Brother Jim says, when Elvis keeled over off his throne on Aug. 16, 1977, it was like the world stopped … the reason: evil Dr. Nick, who was summarily punished for his offensive behavior.
Merle Haggard said, “we loved Elvis to death.”
As we all know, “love is strange” (courtesy of Mickey and Sylvia, circa 1960). It is in particular a strange reason (albeit a common one) for dying. But who doesn’t understand the process? There’s only so much that the media can wring out of it. Americans are so over-medicated that everybody identifies with Elvis’ story. We’ve all dabbled in what he swam in (drugs by the bushelful for a short while).
Excess. Stimulants and sedatives. It’s easy to overdo it in this society, this global pharmacy. Elvis just couldn’t stand the spotlight, although that’s what he sought all his life. Once he was up there, struggling to be larger than life, the whole world was watching and he knew it. It was too much for him. He was no savior, no cure for the human condition. He collapsed and became a businessman.
Elvis was no businessman. He was the King of Rock ’n’ Roll. “Ask the boy from Tupelo/he’s a king and he oughta know” sings Emmylou Harris on her album “Red Dirt Girl.”
Elvis knew everybody’s secret: Mama’s Little Helper is the best thing going. Used to be that dope was scarce. Now every kid in high school has a bag in his pocket. Every housewife has access to the radiance of Dr. Feelgood. Every salesman is hip to the benefits of encapsulated happiness.
But Elvis is gone and so is Billy Lee Riley, who was never in a commercial league with Elvis but who passed away Aug. 2 or 3 (Why quibble? He made “Red Hot“ and it was a classic). Billy Lee was ahead of Elvis and behind him. The music that brewed in Elvis was clichéd the moment Elvis appeared. He defined it. He refined it. He carried it with him like a flag.
The King? The King of what? Elvis was the last of the genuine American originals generated by poet William Carlos Williams’ World War II generation. “The pure products of America,” Williams wrote, “go crazy.”
Little did he know that the pure products of America are defeated by America. Or maybe he did know. Maybe he just couldn’t bring himself to say it straight out. It’s almost too sad.
Merle Haggard said, “we loved Elvis to death.”
As we all know, “love is strange” (courtesy of Mickey and Sylvia, circa 1960). It is in particular a strange reason (albeit a common one) for dying. But who doesn’t understand the process? There’s only so much that the media can wring out of it. Americans are so over-medicated that everybody identifies with Elvis’ story. We’ve all dabbled in what he swam in (drugs by the bushelful for a short while).
Excess. Stimulants and sedatives. It’s easy to overdo it in this society, this global pharmacy. Elvis just couldn’t stand the spotlight, although that’s what he sought all his life. Once he was up there, struggling to be larger than life, the whole world was watching and he knew it. It was too much for him. He was no savior, no cure for the human condition. He collapsed and became a businessman.
Elvis was no businessman. He was the King of Rock ’n’ Roll. “Ask the boy from Tupelo/he’s a king and he oughta know” sings Emmylou Harris on her album “Red Dirt Girl.”
Elvis knew everybody’s secret: Mama’s Little Helper is the best thing going. Used to be that dope was scarce. Now every kid in high school has a bag in his pocket. Every housewife has access to the radiance of Dr. Feelgood. Every salesman is hip to the benefits of encapsulated happiness.
But Elvis is gone and so is Billy Lee Riley, who was never in a commercial league with Elvis but who passed away Aug. 2 or 3 (Why quibble? He made “Red Hot“ and it was a classic). Billy Lee was ahead of Elvis and behind him. The music that brewed in Elvis was clichéd the moment Elvis appeared. He defined it. He refined it. He carried it with him like a flag.
The King? The King of what? Elvis was the last of the genuine American originals generated by poet William Carlos Williams’ World War II generation. “The pure products of America,” Williams wrote, “go crazy.”
Little did he know that the pure products of America are defeated by America. Or maybe he did know. Maybe he just couldn’t bring himself to say it straight out. It’s almost too sad.
Drive--By Truckers Are Unique
By Orlis
I've never started a piece out like this before and I never thought I would. But, I hate this band, I really hate this band. Because they make me green. Not green like ecology, not green like sick to my stomach, not green like they're making so much money ... But, "Green With Envy."
I have been studyin' southern culture for over 30 years and I was born from good Mt. Ida hillbilly stock. And I can't stand the fact that about half of what these kids have written ... I wish I had written. Talkin' about the duality of the southern thing. It's kinda a love-hate thang.
Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, the Kingston Trio and such did "Folk Music." Second person accounts of real events. Vance Randolph did six books of transcriptions of first person folk songs, about town drunks, whores, evil bankers, carpetbaggers, bank robbers, maybe even murderers. Well, these guys & gal talk first person at least half the time. Patterson Hood in particular writes much about his five generations of dirt farmers. Mike Cooley evokes daddy, uncles and cousins, moonshining gambling and building hot cars. The now departed Jason Isbell gives much funky southern advice like, "We ain't never gonna change -- we ain't doin' nothing wrong." Even bassist Shonna Tucker has now gotten into song writing. So most of their stuff is real oral history in the great tradition of southern storytellers.
What about their music, you say! Well ... Take some Crazy Horse, add some Skynyrd, some Texas outlaw music, add a couple of dashes of country, maybe even a pinch of hillbilly. You get a potent stew of "southern grunge. It even has the smell of dirt and outhouses on it, with a three guitar line-up. In a nutshell, man they Rock!!!
They have put out eight albums in the last eleven years, gaining momentum with each release, until the last album "Brighter than Creation's Dark" smashed its way to #37 on the charts. If Yankees weren't so scared of 'em, it probably would have been #1.
Their 2001 release "Southern Rock Opera" is about Lynyrd Skynyrd's rise and fall as a scream to arms. Could there be a second secession? It makes all other rock operas seem insipid and impotent. It actually rivals Gershwin in the American canon. The song "The Southern Thing" from this LP is a crash course in what they and I are a talkin' 'bout.
If you want a master's degree listen to the whole catalog.
So if you want to get your butt kicked, just dare to show up at George's Majestic Lounge Friday, August 7th. Have your fists ready to pump ... for a taste of Ozark culture keep checking http://www.orlissez.blogspot.com.
I've never started a piece out like this before and I never thought I would. But, I hate this band, I really hate this band. Because they make me green. Not green like ecology, not green like sick to my stomach, not green like they're making so much money ... But, "Green With Envy."
I have been studyin' southern culture for over 30 years and I was born from good Mt. Ida hillbilly stock. And I can't stand the fact that about half of what these kids have written ... I wish I had written. Talkin' about the duality of the southern thing. It's kinda a love-hate thang.
Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, the Kingston Trio and such did "Folk Music." Second person accounts of real events. Vance Randolph did six books of transcriptions of first person folk songs, about town drunks, whores, evil bankers, carpetbaggers, bank robbers, maybe even murderers. Well, these guys & gal talk first person at least half the time. Patterson Hood in particular writes much about his five generations of dirt farmers. Mike Cooley evokes daddy, uncles and cousins, moonshining gambling and building hot cars. The now departed Jason Isbell gives much funky southern advice like, "We ain't never gonna change -- we ain't doin' nothing wrong." Even bassist Shonna Tucker has now gotten into song writing. So most of their stuff is real oral history in the great tradition of southern storytellers.
What about their music, you say! Well ... Take some Crazy Horse, add some Skynyrd, some Texas outlaw music, add a couple of dashes of country, maybe even a pinch of hillbilly. You get a potent stew of "southern grunge. It even has the smell of dirt and outhouses on it, with a three guitar line-up. In a nutshell, man they Rock!!!
They have put out eight albums in the last eleven years, gaining momentum with each release, until the last album "Brighter than Creation's Dark" smashed its way to #37 on the charts. If Yankees weren't so scared of 'em, it probably would have been #1.
Their 2001 release "Southern Rock Opera" is about Lynyrd Skynyrd's rise and fall as a scream to arms. Could there be a second secession? It makes all other rock operas seem insipid and impotent. It actually rivals Gershwin in the American canon. The song "The Southern Thing" from this LP is a crash course in what they and I are a talkin' 'bout.
If you want a master's degree listen to the whole catalog.
So if you want to get your butt kicked, just dare to show up at George's Majestic Lounge Friday, August 7th. Have your fists ready to pump ... for a taste of Ozark culture keep checking http://www.orlissez.blogspot.com.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Orlis reviews Drive-By Truckers to promote last weekend's performance in Fayetteville
By Orlis
I was born from good Mount Ida hillbilly stock and I’ve been studying southern culture for more than 30 years. That said, I can’t stand the fact that about half of what the Drive-By Truckers have written, I wish I had written.
Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, the Kingston Trio did “folk music”-second-person accounts of real events. Folklorist Vance Randolph did six books of transcriptions of first-person folk songs, about town drunks, whores, evil bankers, carpetbaggers and bank robbers. The guys and gal in Drive-By Truckers talk first-person at least half the time.
DBT’s Patterson Hood in particular writes about his five generations of dirt farmers. Mike Cooley evokes daddy, uncles and cousins, moonshining, gambling and building hot cars. The now departed Jason Isbell gives funky southern advice like, “We ain’t never gonna change — we ain’t doin’ nothing wrong.” Even bassist Shonna Tucker has now gotten into songwriting. Most of their stuff is real oral history in the great tradition of southern storytellers.
What about their music, you ask? Well, take some Crazy Horse, add some Skynard, some Texas outlaw music, add a couple of dashes of country, maybe even a pinch of hillbilly. You get a potent stew of “southern grunge.” It even has the smell of dirt and outhouses, with a three guitar line-up. In a nutshell … man, they rock.
They have put out eight albums in the last 11 years, gaining momentum with each release. Their last album “Brighter than Creation’s Dark” smashed its way to 37 on the charts. If Yankees weren’t so scared of ’em, it probably would have been No. 1.
Their 2001 release “Southern Rock Opera” is about Lynard Skynard’s rise and fall as a scream to arms. Could there be a second secession? It makes all other rock operas seem insipid and impotent. It actually rivals Gershwin in the American canon. The song “The Southern Thing” is a crash course in what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.
If you want a master’s degree in southern rock, listen to the DBT’s whole catalog. If you want your butt kicked, just dare to show up at George’s on Friday when they play. Have your fists ready to pump.
I was born from good Mount Ida hillbilly stock and I’ve been studying southern culture for more than 30 years. That said, I can’t stand the fact that about half of what the Drive-By Truckers have written, I wish I had written.
Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, the Kingston Trio did “folk music”-second-person accounts of real events. Folklorist Vance Randolph did six books of transcriptions of first-person folk songs, about town drunks, whores, evil bankers, carpetbaggers and bank robbers. The guys and gal in Drive-By Truckers talk first-person at least half the time.
DBT’s Patterson Hood in particular writes about his five generations of dirt farmers. Mike Cooley evokes daddy, uncles and cousins, moonshining, gambling and building hot cars. The now departed Jason Isbell gives funky southern advice like, “We ain’t never gonna change — we ain’t doin’ nothing wrong.” Even bassist Shonna Tucker has now gotten into songwriting. Most of their stuff is real oral history in the great tradition of southern storytellers.
What about their music, you ask? Well, take some Crazy Horse, add some Skynard, some Texas outlaw music, add a couple of dashes of country, maybe even a pinch of hillbilly. You get a potent stew of “southern grunge.” It even has the smell of dirt and outhouses, with a three guitar line-up. In a nutshell … man, they rock.
They have put out eight albums in the last 11 years, gaining momentum with each release. Their last album “Brighter than Creation’s Dark” smashed its way to 37 on the charts. If Yankees weren’t so scared of ’em, it probably would have been No. 1.
Their 2001 release “Southern Rock Opera” is about Lynard Skynard’s rise and fall as a scream to arms. Could there be a second secession? It makes all other rock operas seem insipid and impotent. It actually rivals Gershwin in the American canon. The song “The Southern Thing” is a crash course in what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.
If you want a master’s degree in southern rock, listen to the DBT’s whole catalog. If you want your butt kicked, just dare to show up at George’s on Friday when they play. Have your fists ready to pump.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)