My archtop is now an electric. Complete with vintage DeArmond pickup.
I go now to retrieve it. Pictures soon.
YAY!
Daily Archives: May 16, 2006
pampering meself
Tired of the radio selection around here, I splurged (slightly) this AM and bought an XM Satellite receiver for the car.
Installed it, drove out to a local mall on a hill where I’d have “an unobstructed view of the sky” and let it set itself.
Tuned to “Fungus 53” (punk-hardcore-ska) and immediately received the blessing of Black Flag’s “I’m The One.”
At 60 bucks for the receiver and 12.95 a month, it’s really more than I should be paying out while trying to figure out my finances. I considered it an act of hope for the future.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thinking about punk the other night, listening to KEXP’s “Sonic Reducer” program — hearing punk music from the last 30 years or so — I began to realize that punk has become its own insular canon that can be heard separately (for the most part) from the broader “rock and roll” canon.
I think it’s almost the same as the way that so many slammers only know the poetry of other slammers.
Not sure what this means…just an observation.
jim beats the rap
it begins when he looks up at the ceiling
of his porch and notices seven cords stretched
tightly from one end to the other. too high to be
clotheslines, why are they there? he thinks, if there
was one more i could tune the porch like a mandolin
and play it.
he’s in shorts, just shorts, and it’s cold out,
rainy, he thinks back to running from the campus cops
dressed like this while the night turned into fireworks.
it was just one tab, he thought, just one, who knew
such things could happen? if this porch was a mandolin
i’d write a song about that.
a cruiser slips down the street below and he turns his face.
who knows what craggy guy, close to retirement, formerly
bright-eyed rookie on the college force, who knows
how long a memory can drive a guy like that? he thinks,
if i were a cop i’d be relentless. i’d give chase to me
all over again.
if i could play the mandolin i’d stay on the porch
and make up songs i would hang from the ceiling
so no one could ever see me among the melodies
and that damn cop would drive on by everytime
like he just did by luck. he tells himself
to go buy another cord tomorrow.
Dark Matter 