happy tears; I like it out here
First thing, thanks to Hap for the momentum. And of course, via her excellent recommendation, you Jive Aces fellows and ladies are the cat’s pajamas, the bee’s knees I tells you!
Part of the reason I like that so much is that it’s even more uplifting than Brian Setzer’s Jump, Jive & Wail (yeah, I know, it was Louie’s first), yet it’s in a language I grok so I don’t come off halfassed singing along. Like I do with Movits’ Fel Del Av Garden or Tiken Jah Fakoly’s Ouvrez Les Frontières, Au Jour Et A L’Heure, etc.
Second, thanks to Adam Duritz and GothGoatBoy for encouraging my further outward tendencies from the quiet of my curmudgeonly misanthropic shell. oftimes the world is a bucket of poo.
Third, Amanda, you throw me that Stan Rogers and I feel these bellows, this singer’s chest and diaphragm tickle with delight. This has got to be one of the most incredible singalongs this side of the Sacred Harp stuff. (That breaks my brain.)
But then I saw this one and I jumped around here like a crazy person. (more on that below, btw…)
[note: 1. I intend to learn how to embed video clips here before I finish this post. Gods willing. 2. It may wander wildly, but I have a thread running thru it called Me.]
Oh miss Beth. I’m sorry I just read about your father’s passing. Facebook can make some things even awkwarder sometimes, but you were a friend from the same home town who came and played Tom Petty on the guitar when I was a jittery freshman and helped calm me down, quell the stupid levels of homesick for not being six hours away.
One of the first films I recall memorizing large chunks of was Pump Up The Volume with Christian Slater. Which of course led me shortly to Eric Bogosian in Talk Radio, but that’s a whole other can o worms.
In PUTV and a penultimate moment full of forth and portent, our intrepid indie DJ rebel Happy Harry Hardon says “ok, this is really me now. No more hiding.”
I confess under that blessed masthead graphic, in the pages I spiritually mystically endow with all the love I felt reading the pages of No Depression magazine e’er since the wife dun switched me onto it…I would admit this. I am stepping out from under the brain candy, overpriced and flawed corporate medicine that moreover, doesn’t work as advertised. If I actually need chemical intervention, the previous method attempted, looking @ u celexa, ain’t for me.
What just strips my gears down to dust, like an intracranial eggbeater, is that I commented in a thread about the deleterious effects of antidepressants/SSRIs on the facebook Counting Crows page that Brother Adam just might could, nah, actually intended to see with his own two eyes! Keep that defibrillator on hand, I may need it.
The realm of discussing these sorts of delicate matters meant I avoided mentioning it for some time.
All chemical politics aside, I found my flame right where I left it. Sure it was under that bushel, but it taint no moar!
Revitalized and strengthened my interconnectivity online of late, between the various blogs, social media, etc. I stumbled into somebody I remember fondly. Hap Mansfield, candy addict, ruthless punster, music enthusiast. She also wrote some of the most memorable pieces in those rags I loved.
Anybody from the Minneapolis area in the 1990s would remember Cake and Toast magazines. Sharp, cutting commentary and witticisms provided an indier-than-the-rest counterbalance to the relative bounty at the time, the Twin Cities Reader (RIP we miss u) and the yet-surviving City Pages. I remember the Binch and Profane Existence and all kinds of others. But Cake and Toast were tha chit!
Figure in the facebook factor and I reconnect with Hap. I’m still not wanting to be a bother, blather on at her too much. But she posted a link to a video by The Jive Aces called Bring Me Sunshine.
Still have a big wide smile over my lips just thinking about it. See, it was about a month back when I first had the sense that my old mojo was peeking through the pharmaceutical clouds to shine on us once more. I saw Tom Brier doing a sight-read of the Athletic Theme to Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island.
At this moment, I’m thankful to be alive, awake and taking in all this fantastically rewarding spiritual nourishment. Spoke to me mum earlier, she remembered Hap with a laugh upon mentioning her name.
Last night I stumbled across radiotapes.com where I found a veritable COMPENDIUM of Minneapolis radio airchecks. Voices and theme songs I hadn’t heard in 20 years! You wanna hear the barking dogs & marching band theme music of The Cannon Mess on WCCO? I did!
I am loathe to cause these fine fellows any inflated bandwidth costs, but here:
Nowthen. “Happy tears you say? What kinda ponce says that? Here in ‘Mer’ca we… (blah blah male bravado testosterone blah)” Well I’m a Kevin Smith fan, ever since that scene in Chasing Amy where that painfully awkward guy could’ve just been me, okay? Brother Kevin made a movie connecting the dots between the Westboro Baptist Church and their assault on reason, decency and logic.
Then last night, Brotherman the Soldier sent me this and I wept.
Thank you for standing up to those Westboro bigots America. I love you!
In a geeky footnote, I’ve been suffering from the pissing contest between Comcast and YouTube wherein it makes EVERY video stutter from YT. Even if you’re the ONLY process using bandwidth at the time, trust me. This is a Comcast:Broken By Design kind of issue.
But check it, those two links above for the Jive Aces? From behind my moody widdle 20mb/s comcast internet connection, the FLIXXY video link goes ZOOM to full res and does NOT BURP. The youtube one? Same shiatty experience I’ve been whining about elsewhere, along with everybody else… l-o-a-d-i-n-(…buffering…)