"He Lifts Me Up!" - The Belfast Cowboy

I read obits once in awhile. Is it some magical-thinking way of proving I'm not dead yet? It's a way to find out something about people you didn't really know. A person was born at this time, did this, did that, died at this time, and at this place. There's so much left out. You know that the simple facts tell you something, and still the facts basically miss the essential stuff of what makes a life.

I came across this obit for Sri Chinmoy, a spiritual holy man who founded a meditation center in Queens back in the sixties. He became a guru for some famous people, including the musicians Carlos Santana and John McGlaughlin. I came across his name many years ago. I was a fan of Miles Davis' haunting "Bitches Brew" album, which led me to listening to the great guitar work of John McGlaughlin, which led me to his band Mahavishnu Orchestra. I learned McGlaughlin was a disciple of Chinmoy.

A guy named Jerry Goodman was the violinist in Mahavishnu Orchestra and many years later, I met a guy named Fred Glickstein, who was also in a band with Goodman, a Chicago based band called The Flock, one of the great, lost, psychedelic rock outfits that came and went after a disc or two. Anyway, I kind of count Fred as one of my friends. He lives near me, we chat once in awhile, trade e-mails. He's totally unplugged from the music scene, but he's got a million funny stories. He's a sparkling soul and I'd glad I know him.

Anyway, so in some weird way, I feel connected to Chinmoy via Davis via McGlaughlin via Goodman via Glickstein. So I read Chinmoy's obit with quite a bit of interest. He advocated meditation (yes!), vegetarianism (well, I guess ok!) and celibacy (are you sure? I mean you got to let it out sometime captain!). He was an athelete who slept only 90 minutes a day (that sounds totally crazy to me - isn't that how we break prisonsers at Guantanamo - I mean I need a good eight hours to be somewhat coherent?!), and who ran ultra-marathons and did some heavy lifting.

Here's the really funny part. It seems Chinmoy was a spiritual leader who "literally" lifted people up. He physically lifted them. It was one of his great acheivements. I mean who else can boast that he lifted: Sting, Muhammad Ali, Neslon Mandela, Sid Cesear, Desmond Tutu, Yoko Ono, Jesse Jackson, Susan Sarandon, Eddie Murphy and Richard Gere!?!?

No, he did not lift Van Morrison. But still, when all is said and done good ole Sri was quite the uplifting holy man!

Dancing on the Precipice

I recently read about the late, great, French pop songster, and bad boy, Serge Gainsborough, and well, eventhough, I've never really heard his music, he seems like just my cup of tea. I guess he sort of reigned supreme in France during the late sixties, early seventies.

I was lost in the Dylan/Beatles/Stones/Who/Allman Brothers milieu at the time, I had no place for an ultra-hipster (think of a French Bogart who could write songs and sing) like Serge. I am ripe for him now. I plan on ordering some discs from Amazon to kind of catch up. Anyway, this quote from Serge (he believed he was an ugly man - eventhough beautiful women were wildly attracted to him, and he had relationships with many, including at the time, the great sex kitten, Brigitte Bardot), has resonated with me. I've been carrying it around in my head for weeks, and I thought I had to put it in the blogosphere. Here it is:

"Beauty fades, ugliness endures." - Serge Gainsborough

It's something I can relate as per my own self-image. I've always been uncomfortable in my skin. Ever since I was little, as soon as I could see myself in a mirror, or a photo, I have been disappointed. There's nothing quite like a disappointed Narcissist! But as life has gone forward, my strangeness, my self-perceived "ugliness" has sort become a badge of honor. I'm not worried about fading beauty, instead, the accumulated rust starts to turn into a dark, weirdness that is undeniable. Something endures. And the endurance itself becomes a virtue. Of course, entropy rules and well Serge finally gave up the ghost, just as we all must. Serge is gone but ugliness endures!

So anyway, this is all just a preamble to what I really wanted to write about - THE TELEPATHS! It's a band I'm in. I play guitar. It a combustible, anarchic outfit that specializes in energy and mayhem. We played out last night at Sylvies, a smoky and muggy little rock club. We did a 40 minute set. It was raw and exhilarating. I think we are undeniably the "sweatiest rock and roll band" in the city. I don't know exactly what it is - get the four of us up onstage, and suddenly the adrenaline kicks in and anything seems possible.

We were sloppy, and almost lost it completely a couple times last night, and well there's some kind of amazing kick when you realize you are dancing on the precipice. I hope we never lose that mad and loose r&r ethic. It's a cool thing, so different from the work I do with the Lovely Carla in my other band White Wolf Sonic Princess. There we are shooting for some kind of ethereal beauty. The Telepaths are definitely on the extreme other end of a dichotomy.

I feel lucky to be exploring both sides of that weird-ass equation...

The Cow Jumped Over the Moon...

One year, one Oscar, one Nobel Prize. Not bad. Add to that the guy wins the popular vote in 2000...

Of course, as we all know the Supremes stole the election from the man...and well, we're stuck with the Idiot Monkey, who takes the country down a sordid path of buffoonery and misery...

Do we always get the President we deserve?

Al asks us to think as a species...sounds like quite the leap...

The Ghost of Jeff Buckley

Last night White Wolf Sonic Princess (WWSP) played out at Uncommon Ground. It was such a blast. I mean, we were nervous as hell. For some reason, eventhough we've done a bunch of shows already, it really seemed like some kind of coming out party for us. Plus, because of the logistics, it was just the Lovely Carla and I. No bass, no drums. We were up there in a very intimate room, one guitar, two voices. About as naked and exposed as you can be. I guess maybe doing a standup act would be one step beyond.

It was a challenge and a kick. It all kind of went by in a blur. But we really savored it too. Uncommon Ground is a very cozy and intimate room. It's got to be one of the best places to play in Chicago. There were some familiar faces, in fact, much of my life in the last few years were kind of represented at some of the tables there. I've really been on a spiritual/creative quest and some of the kindred souls I've met along the way came out to support us. It was very gratifying.

Plus there were plenty of new faces too. We got a warm response. Good feeling all around. Even the Lovely Carla gave us high marks! As we packed up for the night I stood under the portrait of Jeff Buckley and thanked him. He's gone, but inspires still.

Still kind of riding the positive vibe this morning. No post performance crash yet. Maybe I can stay in the bubble for a little while.

Let It Rock...

Can rock & roll save your soul? Not sure about that. There is much debauch and wreckage associated with the r&r lifestyle. Early death. Fallen idols. Alchoholism. Drug abuse. Blasted and broken lives. Too many peanut butter and fried bannana sandwiches.

On the other hand, I do believe r&r feeds and fires the soul. It may not be enough to save a soul, but it certainly stirs it. Last night, I spent a few hours in a dark rehearsal space with a couple of other souls. It was hot, not really transcendant. We blasted through some numbers, originals and covers, elemental r&r songs, played loud.

Turn up the volume, crash through a chord progression, feel the kick of the drum, and throb of a bass guitar. The failures, the defeats, all the bad shit of the world had to wait for us outside the doors. You can't barricade the doors. Finally you have to pack up and go into that dark night. The world is waiting for us all with all it's pain and glory, it's claws and embraces.

But for a few minutes you get to rock, and it lights something inside. It may not be enough, but then again, the soul thing doesn't work by number and logic...instead it's kind of like magic...and sometimes a maple fretboard points you in a certain direction...and it's something.

The Drunken Monkey in Your Head

The Lovely Carla went for an acupunture session this morning. At lunch she hits me this sage advice: "beware the drunken monkey in your head...it is a monster!"

I'm thinking that my drunken monkey may have something to bring to the table...maybe I can redeem him for valuable prizes later?!

Disinterested Ongoingness of Everything

Tom Stoppard's play "Rock & Roll" is coming to New York. He writes about it in the latest Vanity Fair. It seems he was originally intending to write a play about Syd Barrett the great lost frontman of Pink Floyd, but then took a creative detour.

This line at the end of the piece really resonates: "every story, made up or otherwise...is secretly about time, the disinterested ongoingness of everything, the unconditional mutability that makes every life poignant." - Tom Stoppard

Just because he says it, doesn't make it so...

It's been said over and over...and well, not sure if our country can really deal with the depths of the degradation and destruction this man has unleashed. THIS MAN IS A LIAR AND A CRIMINAL! He should be hauled down to the Hague for trial for war crimes. The crimes committed by this nation stain us all...

UPDATE: What a fucking weasel! If there's any doubt about "advanced interrogation techniques" qualifying as torture, I submit that as a test (mind you only a test!) that Bush be subjected to a few weeks of the approved interrogation measures to see how well it all agrees with him.

Sweet Smell of Success

I can't really go into the specifics...I must protect the innocent, the not so innocent and the completely guilty. Let's just say, I've recently been involved in a business deal where mucho bucks have been discussed. It was very early stage, but if it all panned out, I stood to make a lot of money. Now, it turns out that someone that I greatly admire, someone who I've worked with for many years, someone who has inspired me, someone I can honestly call a friend, basically asked me for a bribe to make sure the deal happened.

It was presented in such a friendly and logical way. "You take care of me, I take care of you." And of course, I think of myself as a "deal-maker," not a "deal-breaker." I hesitated. I did not dimiss the idea immediately. I tried it on for size, I actually consulted with a couple collegues to see if it was something we could "work out."

At the same time, I knew it was wrong. And in my heart, I knew I could not do it. How to respond? Well, I came back with both barrels blazing. I ripped the deal to shreds. I probably lost a friend. I passed up the bucks. I told my friend he was making a big mistake. I even threatened to blow the whistle (this is probably something I won't do!)

Was I naive? I know that many deals are made by "greasing the wheel." Much of Wall Street and Washington too, and every State Capitol in the land has it's practitioners of the bribe. I am not on a high-horse here. I don't feel righteous, I'm not putting myself up as some moral example. I actually feel really bad that I had to blow this deal to smithereens.

I'm writing about it to just get it all out of my system. Kind of like letting the poison dribble out my veins. Corruption comes with a smile and a dollar sign, it comes at you all friendly-like, with logic and practical terms. It tells you if you want to "play with the big dogs," you have to play along. It's a sweet seduction that kills something.

UPDATE: The Lovely Carla tells me to be careful about getting too self-righteous here. She reminds me of a previous case where I did take care of a friend, I did take care of myself too. She's right. There's a slippery slope here. And no clear lines. Subtle degrees of corruption. I guess it's a case by case process. You hope you make the right choices.

I Don't Believe in Superman...but...

I don't really think it's our mission to "lead the world," I mean, what if we could live a good life, take care of our children and our planet? Try our best to lean to the light? But I really like this quote from Barack Obama:

"To lead the world, we must lead by example. We must be willing to acknowledge our failings, not just trumpet our victories. And when I'm President, we'll reject torture - without exception or equivocation; we'll close Guantanamo; we'll be the country that credibly tells the dissidents in the prison camps around the world that America is your voice, America is your dream, America is your light of justice."

It sounds like a start to some kind of vision of redemption...I wonder if he'll have a chance to realize it...?

On the Road

We took our R&R roadshow 139 miles north to Madison (a city on a hill between two lakes Menota and Mendota), Wisconsin over the weekend. We played a show at Mother Fools, a comfortable little coffeehouse down the road from the Capitol building. Madison is the state Capitol and a college town, and this time of year, it's really all about football and beer. There's the Wisconsin Badgers college team and of course, there's the Green Bay Packers. Plus lots and lots and lots of beer.

So our band was battling the Badgers and lots of cold beer for the entertainment dollar. Football & beer won. It was me, the Lovely Carla and Sanjay our drummer extraordinaire (think a combo of Maya, Krishna and a Smurf and you kind of get a little flavor of who Sanjay is - we are so lucky to have him in our band) in Madison (there was a full moon too!), for a White Wolf Sonic Princess gig.

We were sort of fish out of water. Swimming upstream in a river of beer. We played to the vegan-soy-latte crowd. Not really a crowd, just a few stray, like-minded souls hiding out from the football-mad, beer-soaked hordes in a cozy little coffeeshop. We did two sets - nearly 2 hours of music. All originals. It went so well, quite the satisfying show. Some enthusiastic applause, nice words and smiles from the audience. Then, well, the night was still young, what else to do (?!) we couldn't resist, we jumped into the mad frat-boy fray with both feet. We found ourselves at a bar where the beer mugs were liter-sized, and another place where all beer on tap was freshly brewed right on-site.

We drank with gusto, happy with all we'd done and then we watched the football crazies get really sloppy, over-the-top drunk. We got a little fuzzy headed too. It was quite the scene. I can't really sum it up, but if our country is on the skids I think our obsession with football and beer might have something to do with it.

Anyway, Sunday morning the streets of Madison were pretty deserted. I'm sure there were a lot of hangovers, although, the three of us we were just fine. Had a nice breakfast and then it was back on the road to Chicago. I'm really getting addicted to performing. Music is such a cool kick. We are really refining our sound. More shows are on the horizon...I live for this shit!

SERJ IS ONTO SOMETHING!

Serj Tankian, the leader singer of System of Down, is on tour promoting his new solo album. Serj has a lot going for him. A political conscience, a strong voice, he looks like a young Zappa, and well, he's a kind of crazy Lebanese dude with something to say. He is quite quotable:

WE ARE THE CAUSE OF A WORLD THAT'S GONE WRONG

CIVILIZATION IS OVER! ELECT THE DEAD.

Religion of the Ad

I watched the TV show "Mad Men" last night. I thought it was quite good. It looks like it's taking off from movies such as "The Apartment," "Sweet Smell of Success," and "Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter." Looking back at 1960 from the eyes of 2007." It's kind of hard-boiled, hyper-active and ridiculous too. The Nixon/Kennedy election and packaging of the president is a backdrop that lends it some gravitas.

Anyway, between scenes, a quote flashed on the screen from the artist Kit Williams. It seems so true, and obvious, I guess it's kind of a cliche, but cliches are cliches for a reason don't you think?

"The engine of ancient society was religion but the engine of contemporary society, as I see it, is advertising." - Kit Williams

And why is it we want to fill ourselves, our lives with beautiful lies, hokum and crap? The human being never tires of blowing smoke up it's own collective ass...

By 2007 there is only the spin and the spin of the spin...we are all in the middle of the vortex. We all know it. And well that's all part of the game too...

Homage to the Forefathers

Feeling pretty good this morning. White Wolf and Sonic Princess rocked out at the Elbo Room in Chicago last night. What a nice room, great sound, the sound guy was a pro. I actually worked with him when I appeared as a solo acoustic act opening for the Amino Acids at Gunther Murphy's (RIP) a long time ago now.

This road show thing is kind of new to us. When we do theater, the audience comes to our place, the stage is our home turf. Each audience is different, each night is unique, each performance is it's own world, but the set, the room is ours. Not so in the rock & roll thing.

As David Thomas of Pere Ubu once remarked, "rock and roll is moving large black cases from one part of town to the other." So yes, we must do the "schlepping." Not so bad for me, guitar and amp, but for our drummer it's a good way to build up the biceps.

We were second on the bill, only played for 1/2 hour to a very tiny audience (I was gonna say "tiny crowd" but that would not be an accurate description). But you know, for a Wednesday night it's to be expected. I was pleased to have a small group of cool people really giving us a listen. The reaction was warm and encouraging.

Overall, it was one of our best outings yet. A pretty tight set, the rockers rocked, the slow ethereal ones were slow and ethereal. This morning the Lovely Carla tells me that a Hindu Holy Man was there last night talking about the full moon. He told her that this moon asks that we "pay homage to our forefathers." I didn't know it at the time, but I'm pretty confident homage was given and received.

"Trees Talk Too!"

A friend of mine, a fellow-traveller, a great spirit, sent me a very funny file. It's called the "worst album covers of all time." You can find some of them here.

The one below is my favorite. I wonder what kind of music these two characters made together. Plus since Ricky is undoubtably made of wood, the title "Trees Talk Too," is really sort of touching...



UPDATE: Well I went for a run and it dawned on me that Geraldine and Ricky were not a singing act, but of course, a ventriloqist act. I suppose the real pleasure of listening to the album was to put the thing on the the turntable, turn off the lights, lay back in bed and imagine Ricky speaking and Geraldine not visibly moving her lips at all!

There's more to the story: turns out Ricky also played golf, and well, when asked why he was always smiling, Ricky would reply, "I got Jesus in me!"

The Daily Hate

It's kind of fascinating to watch the "daily hate," (who is next?) that is being directed at the President of Iran. I mean, the guy might be a buffoon, and a holocaust denier, but it seems to me Iran isn't the only country headed up by a buffoon who has a slim grip on reality. There's another country I'm thinking of, it's starts with a U. and ends with an S., that has caused a world full of mischief all by itself.

Anyway, I'm sure there are big problems in Iran, and well, it's not a place I'd like to live, and I wouldn't vote for the guy that runs it, but I wouldn't vote for the guy that runs our country now either.

The event at Columbia seemed to go quite well. Everyone got to have their say. I wonder how Bush would do in a room with Iranian students?

The mad, foaming at the mouth hysteria that has risen up against the Iranian President seems almost manufactured.

And no, nukes or no nukes, I don't think it's a good idea to start bombing another country any time soon. If we are thinking that Iran is a "rogue nation," I guess I'd say a little self-reflection is in order.

UPDATE: Hey here's some additional insight from Professer Juan Cole regarding the Iranian President. I think it's safe to say Cole really knows his shit:

"Instead, the U.S. State Department denounced Ahmadinejad as himself little more than a terrorist. Critics have also cited his statements about the Holocaust or his hopes that the Israeli state will collapse. He has been depicted as a Hitler figure intent on killing Israeli Jews, even though he is not commander in chief of the Iranian armed forces, has never invaded any other country, denies he is an anti-Semite, has never called for any Israeli civilians to be killed, and allows Iran's 20,000 Jews to have representation in Parliament.

The real reason his visit is controversial is that the American right has decided the United States needs to go to war against Iran. Ahmadinejad is therefore being configured as an enemy head of state. "

Diabolical Madness

This is from Juan Cole:

"The argument about whether Cheney/Bush went into Iraq over petroleum is not interesting. Of course they did, one way or another. The question is what exactly they thought they were doing about Iraq's petroleum. I would argue that they threw public resources (perhaps as much as two trillion dollars worth when all is said and done) to secure profits for private companies. Otherwise, the US public will never, ever realize the sort of savings from the development of Iraqi petroleum that would compensate them for the blood and treasure they have spent in Iraq. (Not to mention the opportunity costs of squandering so many resources on a quagmire, when the public investment could have been put to much better uses)."

I'm not an econ wizard, but I do know that if you're gonna spend a Trillion dollars on anything, there better be a nice ROI. If you're spending a Trillion dollars and in return you get blood and hatred and endless war, well folks there lies a diabolical madness. "Public Money/Private Gain." Should be the new Republican tag line.

Fancy Medals Ain't What They Used to Be

Last week one of our Four Star (how many stars are in the sky?) Generals marched down to the Senate to tell our brilliantly noble representatives how great everything is going in our foreign occupation in the land of Iraq. Seems everything is really peachy keen over there. Now some people may think that it was all just a big PR stunt, and an elaborate cover story to basically shore up support for President Pissy Pants ("presidentin' is hard work!").

Now I'm not one to question a guy with so many fancy medals on his chest. I mean he sort of looked like the second coming of Patton or Eisenhower, or Alexander or something. But it turns out another guy with fancy medals on his chest thinks this guy Petreus is just an "ass-kissing lickspittle," or something like that...

Well if one tip-top fancy medal dude is calling out another tip-top, fancy medal dude, what's a simple, humble pilgrim to think?

BLACKWATER

Imagine a counter-factual world. A world where let's say there was a foreign force in Louisiana (I'm just improvising here). This force is there to protect foreign Ambassadors and other high-level tight asses.

Well, let's say it's been kind of topsy-turvy lately in the streets of major cities in Louisiana, lots of violence and bad shit happening everyday. And well, there's an "incident," this foreign security detail is involved in a bloody shootout and a bunch of people end up dead. A new family - father, mother and little baby are shot up and burned to cinders in a bullet-riddled and combusted vehicle.

Let's just say the locals are up in arms. A lot of bad feeling all around. People saying something must be done. Then it turns out that a couple of years ago, a special order was passed, (unknown to the locals) that this security detail and in fact, any other foreign contractor in country is IMMUNE to any Louisiana LAW! And well, on one level the mad conception of the whole thing is fucking perfectly beautiful for the foreign occupiers. For the locals not so good. Who could imagine such a world?

Weather Vane

We are so much like the weather. Carbon-based weather vanes. One day to the next; one day, unlike any other. Ever again.

There are isobars, and barometric pressures, and moon tides. There is this big solar daddy hanging over us all. He's consistent, but changeable too.

As above, so below. There is only constant change, moment to moment. This feeling of continuity is really just a helpful (sometimes) illusion. Helpful, and then, not so helpful too. Can't hold on. To anything.

It's a little frightening. And a lonely row to hoe.

Good days you can ride the wave, and crash in the surf, and get back up, over and over. Until you are done. That's a life.