Welcome to Birthday Thursdays! Each week I will feature someone from the world of music whose birthday falls on this day. There won’t be any chit chat from me, no facts and figures – just some great tunes (and an occasional surprise). Check it out right here every Thursday and enjoy the music.
Happy Birthday to Bruce Woodley Born July 25, 1942 in Melbourne, Australia
Written for Glyn’s Mixed Music Bag Week #30where we are asked to write about a song by a groupor solo singer beginning with the letter M or N.This is my contribution.
When I was a teenager, my father and I would have the same disagreement at least every other week. It all revolved around my father’s comments regarding Frank Sinatra. His words never changed: “If you want to listen to Frank Sinatra, go ahead. I’ll be in another room.”
And, even though I knew what he was going to say, I asked anyway: “Why don’t you like Frank Sinatra, Dad? He’s a great singer!” My father would reply “I know he’s a great singer and performer but he’s a lousy, no-good womanizing bum who hangs out with gangsters and is a disgrace to his Italian roots. I like Sinatra, the “artist” but I have no use for Sinatra, the “man”!”
Of course, I couldn’t resist fanning the flames just a bit more by saying something like “Frank Sinatra doesn’t even know you exist! It’s not his personal life but his artistic contributions that people should care about.” And we’d dance around that argument for half an hour or so until my mother finally threatened us with bodily harm.
So, isn’t it ironic that I am now saying something quite similar to what my father said all those years ago?
And it’s all about my featured artist today. I never dreamed I would be featuring Paul McCartney today (or any other day). If I were to rank The Beatles in order by my personal favorite, Paul would come in 5th! All kidding aside, I’m not a fan of Paul McCartney, the “man”, but I freely admit that he is one of the most talented musicians to have graced us with his work. Today I’m showcasing two of his pieces from his incredibly prolific solo career.
The first song is called “Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying” which is done very much in the style of a jazzy Billy Joel. This is NOT the Gerry and the Pacemakers’ hit we all know and love. Written in 1946 by Joe Greene, this number is included on the 1990 LP by McCartney called “Tripping the Live Fantastic.“ Let’s have a listen.
This is “Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying” by Paul McCartney.
The second song is a piece entitled “Used To Be Bad” which harkens back to the sounds of The Steve Miller Band and ZZ Top (not surprising since it was co-written by McCartney and Miller). This one is a bluesy number which keeps going from start to finish and can be found on McCartney’s 1997 “Flaming Pie” LP. Upon its release, the time was ripe for McCartney to deliver an album steeped in Beatles lore and that’s exactly what he claimed “Flaming Pie” was all about.
This is “Used To Be Bad” by the one and only Macca.
I hope you enjoyed hearing a little McCartney today as well as my personal reflection and the videos I chose for you. I hope you Paul lovers aren’t too pissed off!
Written for Six Sentence Story where we are challenged to incorporate the word “platform” into a story of exactly six sentences. Here’s my six.
Flower child, barefoot Woodstock hippie …. no, she was never one of those; she was always the sophisticated cool one with her oh so very low-rise jeans, alluring halter tops, ridiculously high platform shoes and drop dead smile.
At twenty she was chic in a smooth and sensual way that was second nature, never one who had to try too hard; she had IT while embracing her imperfections which made her intoxicatingly irresistible.
Living in the fast lane, she danced all night at clubs, rocked out at concerts and hung out with everyone from judges to junkies even though she never really enjoyed drugs with the exception of the indescribably exquisite quaalude which now, at 75, she smiles and remembers coming on to the sounds of Procol Harum.
Memories of 1967, the Summer of Love …. friends and lovers, never a lack of either; men were drawn to her and women were envious of her but it was impossible not to like her.
She was no alley cat, no “screw-‘em-in-the-disco-bathroom” type; she made the rules to her game: never do anything you don’t want to and stop whenever you feel uncomfortable.
Her life was and still is a passionate one with no useless regrets, inadequate apologies or unbelievable explanations …. only her scars which show a life well lived …. and that’s exactly how she likes it.
It had been quite a long while since Rob and I had a chance to take a vacation, to escape the madness of the city to someplace remote and peaceful. Skiing sounded like a good idea, a break after the unbearably hot summer. All we wanted was a little get-away to relax and unwind.
Our Google search brought us to a place called Marmot Basin located in Jasper, an alpine town in Canada’s Alberta province. The photos were breathtaking; the area was one of the most natural and unsoiled landscapes we’d ever seen. The site said Jasper was “an authentic mountain community that managed to retain a cozy, warm and ‘real’ atmosphere with a laid-back vibe”. It was also one of North America’s largest protected nature preserves. It would be great to get lost for a few days, forget about our hectic lives.
The flight to Jasper was interminable; eight hours with a connection in Denver. The time change did a number on us physically but our welcoming and romantic chateau more than made up for the tedious travel. It was rustic yet charming with beamed ceilings, comfy furniture and a huge fireplace. We spent our first night snuggled up in bed.
Right after breakfast the next morning we set out for a day of skiing. Hoping to find a secluded trail, we consulted one of the guides who gave us a couple of suggestions. We headed out, delighted to see a pristine layer of powdery snow. Looking around we realized we were the only people in the area and there was nothing in sight except evergreens on the hillside.
We started off slowly then gradually picked up speed; the conditions were perfect. About twenty minutes into our run we came upon a split in the trail. Taking a break, Rob leaned against a tree and consulted a map, deciding which way we should go. Suddenly we felt movement beneath our feet and the ground gave way in what sounded like a whispering waterfall. In an instant we were tumbling down, enveloped by cascades of snow.
It seemed like an eternity before I came to a stop. I was unable to move but realized I was still clutching my pole. Somehow I managed to wrangle my arm free from under my body and began whacking the snow above me. I didn’t know if I was under three feet of snow or thirty; I had to try to free myself. Snow kept falling on me as I hacked away. Slowly my grave became brighter and I realized a magicsliver of sunlight was peeking through. I heaved myself into an upright position and broke through the snow.
It was a struggle but I managed to climb out and started yelling for Rob. All I heard was my echo; everything was deathly silent. I found my phone in the inside pocket of my ski suit and dialed Rob’s number hoping to hear his phone ring; I heard nothing. Checking my phone I saw there was no cell service in the area; I couldn’t even call for help. Gingerly I walked around a bit, all too aware the ground could give way at any moment. My only hope was to try to find help.
I must have walked for miles; the sun had set and I found myself surrounded by trees. I had no idea where I was. Exhausted, I fell to my knees, sobbing. If Rob was still buried in the snow there was no chance of finding him alive.
Through my tears I thought I saw a glimmer of light. I squinted and could barely make out the shape of a cabin in the woods. Was it real or magic? Was I hallucinating? I had to keep moving or I would surely die during the frigid night. Slowly I got to my feet and walked toward the light, praying it was not an illusion. I was so very tired; if only I could close my eyes just take a little rest before I continued. It was so bitterly cold.
Today’s theme at Song Lyric Sunday is all about songs that feature great guitar riffs. Here’s my response. 🎸
My featured song today has one of the most recognizable and oft-played riffs in rock ’n’ roll history – solid, simple and catchy as hell. And yet, as Deep Purple singer Ian Gillan once said, “Smoke On The Watermight never have been released”, because initially the band didn’t think of it as anything special.
In the winter of 1971, when Purple began work on the Machine Head album in Montreux, Switzerland, guitarist Ritchie Blackmore played the riff in their first jam session, and as Gillan recalled: “We didn’t make a big deal out of it. It was just another riff. We didn’t work on the arrangement – it was a jam.”
But by the end of the recording sessions they came up short of material, and so, in Gillan’s words, “We dug out that jam and put vocals to it.” Blackmore played his Strat and was plugged into – as far as Gillan could recall – “a Vox AC30 and/or a Marshall”. Over that mighty riff, the singer told the true story of how the Montreux casino – where Purple had been scheduled to record – burned down in a fire that started during a Frank Zappa concert. The lyrics “someone stupid with a flare gun burned the place to the ground” were born and with that, a deathless rock classic was created.
This is “Smoke On The Water” by Deep Purple.
Lyrics
We all came out to Montreux On the Lake Geneva shoreline To make records with a mobile, yeah We didn’t have much time now
Frank Zappa and the Mothers Were at the best place around But some stupid with a flare gun Burned the place to the ground
Smoke on the water, a fire in the sky (Smoke) on the water, you guys are great
They burned down the gambling house It died with an awful sound Funky Claude was running in and out He was pulling kids out the ground now
When it all was over Find another place Swiss time was running out It seemed that we would lose the race
Smoke on the water, a fire in the sky Smoke on the water
Burn it down
We ended up at the Grand Hotel It was empty, cold and bare The Rolling truck Stones thing just outside Huh, making our music there now
With a few red lights and a few old beds We made a place to sweat No matter what we get out of this I know, I know we’ll never forget
Smoke on the water, a fire in the sky Smoke on the water (I can’t hear anything)
Written for Six Sentence Story where we are challenged to incorporate the word “wire” into a story of exactly six sentences. Here’s my six.
There are parts of Jersey City which are very dangerous …. dingy bars, seedy hotels, mob-run strip joints and dark alleys where unspeakable things happened; Jack Black had a taste for all of them.
Most nights Jack would slither into his favorite bar, sit in the shadows on the end barstool, case the joint, nurse his bourbon and smoke his Lucky Strikes; Jack had patience and sooner or later she’d walk in …. maybe a secretary working late or a bored and lonely housewife.
About 20 minutes later, a woman ran in from the rain and glanced around the room, her eyes ignoring Jack as she shook her damp dark brown hair, then headed to the bar and ordered a martini; she rummaged through her purse searching for her cigarette lighter and just as Jack was about to make his move, the bartender offered her a light.
Jack toyed with the electrical wire in his pocket, annoyed at missing his opportunity to talk up this new beauty, but the night was young and he had all the time in the world.
Cool as a cucumber, Jack watched as the woman sipped her martini and smoked her cigarette, but when she asked the bartender for a menu, Jack knew he had been given a second chance and his fingers did a tap dance of anticipation around the wire in his pocket; just then the door swung open and a man blew in and when the woman at the bar spotted him, she ran to him and they embraced as she exclaimed that he was right on time as dinner would be coming out any second.
Jack was not a happy boy at this turn of events and, seeing no reason to hang around, he opened the door to leave and walked right into a gorgeous blonde; laying on the charm, Jack apologized profusely and offered to buy the woman a drink to which she smiled, agreed and replied that she was bored which was …. as she put it …. a fate worse than death.
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are encouraged to be creative in 250 words or less using the photo below as inspiration. This is my story.
He was neither old nor young and if he had memories … good, bad, happy or sad … they were long forgotten, washed away like tears in rain.
His hand reached for his breast pocket, fingers touching the familiar object resting inside. A harmonica. He had no idea where it came from nor did he know why it was in his pocket yet somehow with an intrinsic knowledge he knew it was his.
Removing the instrument from his pocket, he stared at it as he reverently caressed the wood, reading the faded inscription. Raising it to his mouth, he began to play an old tune he forgot he even knew.
People passing by dropped coins into the white cloth shopping bag at his feet. He might not remember much but he’d never forget the delicious aroma of the crusty baguette in his bag.
A little boy of perhaps eight years of age shyly approached, dropped a coin in the man’s bag and ran back to his father waiting nearby. There was something about the older man that made the boy’s father pause for just a moment.
This ritual continued for several days and the two men pensively acknowledged each other with a nod.
One day before the boy ran back to his father, the man slipped the harmonica into his hand. When the boy’s father read the inscription, he knew. He looked up but the older man was gone.
He closed his eyes as a teardrop landed on the harmonica.
“Lieutenant! We’re getting a reading from the drone!”
“Gimme that, Krebbs! It shows beyond these woods is a clearing with what appears to be life forms. Round up the team; let’s check this out.”
Guns drawn, the squad stealthily worked its way to the clearing. Slowly they emerged; the lieutenant pushed back his fedora and whistled through his teeth.
“Well, lookie here! It’s the MIA grunge band, Rockit Gibraltar!”
“Are they dead, Lieutenant?”
“Nah! They’re stoned. Must be that ramped-up drug …. Double Rubble. Call for a chopper, one equipped with a boulder holder. This ain’t no soft rock band!“
Written for Glyn’s Mixed Music Bag week #29where we are askedto writeabout a song by a group or solo singer beginning with the letter M or N.
Hard rock band Night Ranger was formed in San Francisco in 1982 and continued to gain popularity during the 1980s with a series of albums and singles. Guitarist Brad Gillis and drummer Kelly Keagy have been the band’s only constant members, though singer/bassist Jack Blades performed on all but one of their albums.
The band’s first five albums sold more than 17 million copies worldwide. They are best known for the 1984 power ballad “Sister Christian” which was inspired by drummer Kelly Keagy’s younger sister, Christy. Upon returning from a visit to his hometown of Eugene, Oregon, Keagy wrote the song after being astonished at the speed at which his ‘little’ sister was growing up. The song was the band’s biggest hit, peaking at #5 on the Billboard Hot 100 and staying on the charts for 24 weeks.
This is “Sister Christian”:
Another top 40 single in the 1980s for Night Ranger was “Don’t Tell Me You Love Me”, a song written by vocalist/bassist Jack Blades about a hypothetical relationship that is “fun and happy” until it no longer is after one person confesses they love the other, at which point it gets weird.
This is “Don’t Tell Me You Love Me”:
After their success waned in the late 1980s, the band split up in 1989 and its members pursued other musical endeavors including group and solo efforts. Night Ranger’s music is typically classified as hard rock, glam metal and arena rock.
Welcome to Birthday Thursdays! Each week I will feature someone from the world of music whose birthday falls on this day. There won’t be any chit chat from me, no facts and figures – just some great tunes (and an occasional surprise). Check it out right here every Thursday and enjoy the music.
Happy Birthday to Dion (DiMucci) Born July 18, 1939 in The Bronx, New York
The last time I used that title was for an essay in 4th or 5th grade!
Our vacation started the morning of Wednesday, July 10th. The destination? Mohegan Sun in Uncasville, CT to attend a concert and play the slots …. two things we haven’t done in a very long time. It’s a little more than a 2 1/2 hour drive straight up I-95. Check-in time wasn’t until 4PM but we lucked out because our room was ready when we arrived at noon and we were able to check in right away. We dropped off our bags in our room and headed for the slots.
One thing we forgot since the last time we were at Mohegan Sun is the place is enormous and designed in such a way that everything feels like it’s about 4 miles from everything else! We did a lot of walking and later in the day my lower back started barking like a junkyard dog but I wasn’t going to let that stop me! 😖
Sitting at the slot machines gave me a chance to rest and my back calmed down, but every time I started walking again the pain came back. We tried to limit our walking but it was extremely difficult.
Our main reason for going to Mohegan Sun was to see the Daryl Hall + Elvis Costello Concert Tour. We took advantage of the accommodations/concert package which meant we didn’t know in advance where we’d be sitting for the show or how much the tickets cost. You can see by the photo of my ticket that there’s no price indicated. It turns out the seats were very good and we had a clear view of the stage.
We were in section 16, 5th row, seats 1 & 2 on the aisle next to Section 15.
Our view of the stage
Elvis Costello and his group performed first. They were excellent …. a tight little combo …. and I was surprised how much my husband liked them; he wasn’t familiar with Elvis’ music and didn’t know what to expect. We were both blown away by Elvis and his band …. keyboard player Steve Nieve and drummer Pete Thomas.
And I can say the same for my man, Daryl Hall. In all honesty, though, his sound check wasn’t the greatest and the sound quality was mixed. Hall’s band of seven was extremely loud in person but it doesn’t come across that way on the video. The songs were great, Daryl was in good voice and his piano playing was excellent. Some of the most enjoyable parts of the concert were the sax solos by Charlie DeChant who’s been playing with Daryl since the early days. That guy can really play! The concert wasn’t perfect but it was great and a long time coming for me.
Charlie DeChant
The action at the slots was pretty good – teaser payoffs, nothing big – and we probably broke even. We’re not big time gamblers; it’s all about having fun and knowing when to walk away with some money in your pocket.
Just a few of the nearly 4,000 slot machines at Mohegan Sun
There were a few moments of panic during Saturday evening’s dinner when we heard about the shooting at the Trump rally. Our son Bill is a cameraman and teleprompter and has been assigned to cover some of the rallies. He’s a grown man and doesn’t check in with us when he’s out of town for work so that night we didn’t know if he was at the rally or not. A couple of quick texts reassured us that Bill was safe (and at the Met game in Citi Field with his sons). This scare reminded me of something I’ve said many times: it doesn’t matter how old our children are; we will always worry about them.
Once we were assured our son was ok, we were able to relax and enjoy the rest of our vacation. We left Mohegan Sun Sunday morning and made ourselves comfortable for the 3 hour drive to Saratoga Race Course, where we spent one very exciting and extremely hot day, weather wise. It’s incredible watching the people who are into racing or following a particular horse; they really go nuts! My back was throbbing like a bass guitar and I had to sit a lot during the races.
After a day at the races, it was off to Lake George …. only a half hour drive. The entire area of Lake George is gorgeous and so very relaxing, which was exactly what we needed after five days of busy-ness. There’s nothing like being right on the water, sitting in a lounge chair and staring at a beautiful, peaceful view. I did a lot of that while at Lake George!
Lake George view from our hotel
It was wonderful to get away for a bit; it wasn’t our usual month in Montauk but it was just what we needed. I was surprised how much I missed blogging and I’m happy to be back here with all of you.
Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt #371 where we are asked to get creative in exactly 54 words using the prompt word “timorous”. Here’s my story.
Nelly was a timorous sort; every little thing turned her into a nervous wreck.
So the other night at the dinner party when everyone except Nelly started feeling deathly ill while she stood off to the side calmly sipping her water, the truth became obvious.
Written for Stream of Consciousness Saturday where the prompt word is ‘paper’, which can be used as a noun, verb or adjective … or all three which will qualify for bonus points. Here is my 3-way stream.
On my nightstand I like to keep a pen and pad of paper where I can jot down ideas for stories, things I have to get done around the house, items I need from the store, etc.
During a recent trip to the grocery store I noticed that it’s impossible to find milk in glass bottles. There’s every type of juice or flavored iced coffee available in bottles but milk only comes in those waxy paperedcardboard-like containers or plastic jugs. We’re serious about producing less garbage and using less plastic products so I decided to start getting our milk home delivered. Remember that service? Well, it’s back! All I had to do was place an order for delivery with one of the participating companies; my order was delivered in a metal milk box that is mine to keep for as long as I use the service. When it’s time to schedule my next order, all I have to do is place the empty bottles in the milk box and they’ll be replaced by full bottles of cold, fresh milk!
My husband likes to read the daily newspaper, even though he’s really only interested in the sports pages and the crossword puzzle. The headlines give him agita. That works out well because he uses the remaining sections to paper the floor under and around the cat’s litter box to catch any ‘spillage’ or litter that gets kicked out. Now that’s a proper use for the newspaper, especially the front page that’s always plastered with the arrogant face of one lying politician or another! A very fitting use indeed.
It’s really amazing how time flies by. People say ‘don’t blink’; where did fifteen years go? She is my baby’s baby, his first child and my first grandchild; our world changed the instant she was born. It’s really amazing how time flies by.
This is my beautiful granddaughter Mckenna; she’s funny and fun to be with. At one time she wanted to be a writer; now she’s hoping to become a professional musician in an orchestra. Her instrument of choice is the baritone sax … a powerhouse! She just finished her freshman year of high school and was accepted into the National Honor Society. She’s been a member of her school’s swim team for the last couple of years and today she will start her first job as a lifeguard for her town’s public pool. She really wanted that job and is psyched she passed the test. So are we! Congratulations, Mckenna! We’re so proud of you!
Today’s theme at Song Lyric Sunday is all about songs that feature great drums. Here are my drumtastic songs.
Much like last week’s group which needed no introduction, the same is true for today’s. If you are a fan who tends to remember little things about your favorite groups, then you’ll have no trouble making the connection between the title of my post and the group I’m featuring today …. The Rolling Stones. Oh, sorry! What I should have said is ‘the drummer I’m featuring today …. Charlie Watts’.
“Charlie’s good tonight, ain’t he?” Mick Jagger famously said those words on the classic Stones’ live album Get Yer Ya Ya’s Outrecorded November 27 & 28, 1969 atMadison Square Garden. But some may argue that the late, great Charlie Wattswas good every night …. and I’d agree!
Everyone loved Charlie. He was, of course, a highly regarded drummer but he was much more. A true gentleman, he was reserved and diplomatic, soft spoken, a teetotaler and a sharp dressed man. He was a loyal bandmate, husband and father who hated touring and being away from home. He didn’t have a drum kit at home because the noise was too much for his wife so the only times he played were at the studio or while performing.
Charlie Watts was the Rolling Stones’ drummer for 60 years when he passed away in August 2021 at the age of 80. A blues enthusiast enlisted by the band’s founder, Brian Jones, Charlie was a solid presence in that most turbulent of bands. A man blessed with infinite patience, he claimed on the occasion of the Stones’ 25th anniversary that his career had been “5 years of work and 20 years of hanging around”. Nice job if you can get it! And when it came to work, Charlie always delivered.
I’ve chosen two songs for you today which I believe showcase Charlie’s talents very well. The first one is from 1969 and is a biography loosely based on American Albert DeSalvo who confessed to being the Boston Strangler. We all know the song as “Midnight Rambler”. Keith Richards has referred to this number as “a blues opera” adding that nobody else but he and Mick Jagger could have written it.
One notable 1969 performance (running just over nine minutes) is the video I’ve selected to play today. It was captured for the 1970 album Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out! and was re-released on the 1971 compilation album Hot Rocks 1964-1971. This rendition features Mick Taylor on lead guitar, in addition to Jagger, Richards, Wyman and Watts. Seeing this song performed live at MSG was like a blues marathon and featured one of the finest moments between Mick at the front of the stage and Charlie at the rear …. an unforgettable show.
Live audio from MSG, this is “Midnight Rambler” by the Rolling Stones.
Lyrics
I’m a-talkin’ ’bout the midnight rambler Everybody got to go Well I’m a-talkin’ ’bout the midnight gambler The one you never seen before I’m sighin’ down the wind so sadly A-listen and you’ll hear me moan Well I’m a talkin’ ’bout the midnight gambler And everybody got to go (Yeah c’mon)
Talkin’ ’bout the midnight gambler The one you never seen before I’m talkin’ ’bout the midnight rambler Did you see me jump the garden wall I don’t give you a hoot of warning A-dressed up in my black cat cloak I don’t see the light of the morning I’ll split the time the cock’rel crows
I’m tellin’ ’bout the midnight rambler Well, honey, it’s no rock ‘n’ roll show Well, I’m a-talkin’ ’bout the midnight gambler And everybody got to go
Oh, don’t do that
Well, you heard about the Boston Honey, it’s not one of those Talkin’ ’bout the midnight, shit! Did you see me jump bedroom door I’m called the hit and run raper, in anger Or just a knife sharpened, tippy toe Or just a shoot ’em dead, brainbell jongleur Everybody got to go If you ever meet the midnight rambler And he’s prowlin’ down your marble hall And he’s pouncin’ like a proud black panther You should say, I told you so If you listen for the midnight rambler Play it easy, easy, as you go I’ll go smash down all your plate glass windows Put my fist through your stairway doors Well I’m a-talkin’ bout the midnight rambler The one you never seen before Well I’m a-talkin’ bout the midnight rambler And did you see me jump your garden wall And if you ever catch the Midnight Rambler Steal your mistress from under your nose Go easy with your cold fanged anger I’ll stick my knife right down your throat baby, and it hurts
My second song today is an all-time favorite. There’s no denying that the Stones have recorded a lot of great tunes, many of which have gone on to be hits. Some fall into the category of classic mega-hits; this is one of those tunes. Brian Jones is on this recording, bringing the exotic sitar, but it’s Charlie Watts that’s the jittery heartbeat of this enduring piece of rock history.
The song is “Paint It Black“, a major chart success for the Stones, remaining 11 weeks (including two at #1) on the US Billboard Hot 100, and 10 weeks (including one atop the chart) on the Record Retailer chart in the UK. It was the band’s third #1 single in the US and sixth in the UK. The song also topped charts in Canada and the Netherlands.
“Paint It Black” was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 2018 and Rolling Stone magazine ranked the song #213 on their list of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time. In 2011, the song was added to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame’s list of “The Songs that Shaped Rock & Roll.
This is the legendary “Paint It Black” by the Rolling Stones. Lyrics are provided on screen.
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are encouraged to write something creative in 250 words or less, using the photo below as inspiration. Here’s my story.
Covered in filth and mange, the horde of dogs and cats that survived the hurricane were crammed into military vans. Those once long-haired canines with soft billowy fur now resembled stone creatures encased in a shell of thick crust. Scrawny, flea-ridden cats no longer purred contentedly but howled in fear. Muscular pit bulls were reduced to skeletons, the outlines of ribcages clearly visible in emaciated bodies.
The relentless rain caused the levees to burst, resulting in flooding; homeowners lost everything. Many scrambled to their roofs in a desperate attempt to save themselves while others tried swimming to safety. Those lucky enough to own a rowboat floated on the flood waters, dragging people into their boats along the way.
A state of emergency was declared; first responders worked ceaselessly. Overlong, the levees were rebuilt and people relocated.
Tragically, family pets were forgotten in the frenzy or deliberately left behind. When the waters subsided weeks later, they were found chained to fences and porch railings. Some had climbed up trees or hidden themselves away in the attics of abandoned houses. They were scared, starving, sick. Innumerable were dead.
Helpless, hopeless pets were brought to makeshift hospitals. With unbelievable patience, veterinarians treated every surviving animal, gently cutting away matted crusty fur, administering antibiotics and vaccines, providing food and water, bringing those nearly dead back to life. The doctors never rested; they desperately hoped to save more than they did but the struggle was too great. Too many innocents didn’t stand a chance.
Written for Friday Fictioneers where Rochelle encourages us to write creatively in 100 words or less using the photo below for inspiration. And would you look at that! Today’s photo is one of mine! Woot woot!! Here’s my story.
“OMG, Vern! People are starting to arrive. This is the most thrilling day of my life! Imagine me …. Hazel Heftybottoms …. a published author! I wonder how many of my friends will be here.
Oh no! Look who’s prancing down the street like a prima donna. It’s that cow Eloise and she’s wearing the same outfit as me! That pachyderm has really packed on the pounds! And provocative pink lipstick on her proboscis? What a slut!
I can’t believe she actually published her poetry book. What a pile of poppycock!
Yoo-hoo! Eloise D-A-R-L-I-N-G!! You look absolutely M-A-R-V-E-L-O-U-S!!
Welcome to Birthday Thursdays! Each week I will feature someone from the world of music whose birthday falls on this day. There won’t be any chit chat from me, no facts and figures – just some great tunes (and an occasional surprise). Check it out right here every Thursday and enjoy the music.
Happy Birthday to Dave Rowberry Born July 4, 1940 in Mapperley, Nottinghamshire, UK
Written for Six Sentence Story where we are encouraged to write something creative in exactly six sentences, incorporating the word “hermit”. This is my six.
There was once a very old man who lived deep within the dense dark forest where he ate morels, mushrooms, berries and the little rodents who had the misfortune of getting themselves caught in the very old man’s traps, but the most delectable meals for this ancient hermit were plump little boys and girls lost in the woods – a rare but finger-licking-good scrumptious delight … or so the legend goes.
One unseasonably warm and sunny day several years ago in late November, young Ethan Collingwood and his even younger sister Penelope were on a journey, an expedition of sorts – (it was really just an assignment handed down by their mother) – to gather the chestnuts that grew in the woods at the entrance to the dark forest and bring them home for Thanksgiving dinner; the woods were once abundant with huge chestnut trees which were greater than 100 feet tall and more than ten feet wide, with acorn-sized nuts sweet like a carrot when eaten raw and even nuttier with a candied flavor after roasting; beside Mrs. Collingwood’s perfectly-cooked juicy and tender turkey, the roasted chestnuts were the highlight of their meal, making Ethan and Penelope’s mouths water at the thought of Thanksgiving dinner just one day away.
With strict orders from their mother not to go too deep into the dark forest, the siblings chatted happily on this warm November morning, baskets dangling from their hands for collecting lovely chestnuts but when they arrived at their destination there were no chestnuts to be found, prompting Ethan to suggest they go a tiny bit further into the forest; prudent Penelope protested but Ethan reassured her that all would be fine and, considering he was a whole year older, Penelope was sure he knew best so she agreed and Ethan was right, for only twenty steps deeper into the woods they found chestnuts covering the ground like a blanket; brother and sister began collecting the delicious nuts, filling their baskets and chattering away as they walked, collecting and eating chestnuts with every step they took and in no time they had gobbled up so many nuts, they grew tired, propped themselves against the mighty trunk of a chestnut tree and quickly fell asleep.
Time went by as time is wont to do, turning the warm day into night with a biting wind which woke the young ones who were disoriented, cold and with baskets only half full … something that would surely disappoint their mother … but Ethan, being a bright boy a whole year older than his sister, had an idea which he proposed to Penelope: “Let’s start to walk back home and fill our baskets with chestnuts along the way which will delight Mother when she sees how many nuts we collected and she will forgive our tardiness.”
Penelope sprang to her feet, cheered on by Ethan’s plan, but as she looked around, she realized she had no idea where they were and burst into tears, causing Ethan to inquire why she was crying; surprised by her response, the boy looked around and saw that they were indeed lost, making Ethan feel like crying himself but he refused to let his sister see his fear; instead, he said “Don’t cry, Penny, for all we need to do is follow the trail of chestnut shells we discarded while eating earlier today and we will find our way home.”
Encouraged by this brilliant idea, the siblings began retracing their steps but when they spotted a tiny ramshackle of a hut hidden among the trees, they knew they had walked in the wrong direction; the children realized this was the home of Donnegan Muldoon, the very old man who lived like a hermitfeasting on morels, mushrooms, berries, the little rodents who had the misfortune of getting themselves caught in his traps and plump little boys and girls lost in the woods, and they were sorely frightened, especially now that the moon began creeping out from behind a cloud, casting strange and horrifying shadows wherever the young ones looked, with low hanging branches taking on the appearance of bony arms and fingers ready to snatch them away, and as the crooked limbs inched closer, Ethan and Penelope turned to flee but were stopped dead in their tracks, for looming before them was the menacing figure of Donnegan Muldoon himself, dressed an ancient, threadbare cloak, his long, scraggly grey hair and beard reaching his knees and piercing blue eyes as cold as a tomb staring at the young brother and sister who were too terrified to move or utter a sound.
Written for Glyn’s Mixed Music Bag week #27where we are asked to write about a song by a groupor solo singer beginning with the letter M or N.Here is my group for this week.
Formed in 1967, Mott the Hoople wanted to make music like Bob Dylan and the Rolling Stones. They never quite achieved the level of success of their idols but they were still important to British music at the start of the 1970s. They initially had limited commercial success, although they were popular in mid-sized venues in London and were always considered to be a good live band. Fans caused so much damage at their 1971 concert at the Royal Albert Hall that rock concerts were banned from the iconic venue. By the beginning of 1972, following poor album sales, an aborted tour and an onstage fight in Switzerland, Mott the Hoople were on the brink of breaking up.
Sometimes in life, quality is more important than quantity, and even if you don’t have a huge number of fans, if your hardcore group of fans includes David Bowie, you must still have some hope. Such was the case for Mott the Hoople. After hearing of the band’s troubles, Bowie offered to give them his song “Suffragette City”. They declined the offer thinking that it would not get them the kind of radio airplay that they needed to sell more records but took him up on his offer of “All The Young Dudes”. The single release became their greatest hit and a classic of the glam rock genre; the album of the same name that followed, produced by Bowie and Mick Ronson, got to #21 in the album chart. This was their fifth album and it was where they moved away from standard 1960s rock music and jumped firmly onto the glam rock band wagon.
David Bowie’s production gave Mott the Hoople a hit album at their fifth attempt but unfortunately without him they were not able to maintain this level of success. Their sixth album actually charted higher than All The Young Dudes but they split up in 1975. Mott the Hoople was one of those groups who were absolutely brilliant live on stage but could not quite recapture that magic in a studio.
In 2009 they played a 5 night sell out reunion residency at the Hammersmith Apollo in London. The crowd were on their feet through the entirety of each show and apparently lead singer Ian Hunter commented that it was the first time he had ever had a standing ovation for an entire concert. The surviving members of the band have continued to play sporadically since. Not bad for a band that never had a #1 hit single or album.
Despite being commercially unsuccessful, Mott the Hoople influenced some serious musical players such as Queen, REM and, of course, David Bowie. The Clash, The Sex Pistols, The Smiths and the New York Dolls all cite Mott as influencing them.
Mott the Hoople was one of our favorite groups; we loved their sound, their delivery, their attitude and the fun they brought to live shows. We saw them perform live twice .… August 3, 1973 at the Felt Forum with the New York Dolls and again on May 7, 1974 at the Uris Theatre with Queen. The Uris (now known as the Gershwin Theatre) was newly opened when Mott and Queen performed there; it’s Broadway’s largest theater, with almost 2,000 seats across two levels. Over the years, it has hosted musicals, dance companies and concerts. It’s a beautiful place. Unfortunately, the theatre sustained significant damage by the fans during one of Mott’s shows …. fortunately not the one we attended. Here’s a clip from the New York Times:
“Mott the Hoople arrived on Broadway Tuesday night for the first of six shows, the first hard rock group ever to appear there, and the Uris Theater will probably never be the same again. Cigarette burns in the rugs and seats, spilled drink stains on the floor and torn upholstery were just part of the mess after their final show leaving people wondering how something like this could happen.”
Really …. who could blame them? That type of wonton destruction and disregard for property is disgraceful. You’d think the owners of the Uris Theatre would have been prepared after hearing about the damage at Royal Albert Hall three years earlier. Still, there’s no excuse and we were shocked to hear the reports just days after we were there.
This is Mott the Hoople’s greatest hit song … “All The Young Dudes” written by David Bowie.
This next song tells us about the protagonist who is in a rock band and his friends, Jack and Jane, who work as a banker and clerk. They all come home from work, sit by the fire, and listen to classical music together. The song talks about different aspects of life, such as working hard and dealing with difficult people, but also acknowledges that life is short. The song is “Sweet Jane”; written and originally recorded in 1970 by Lou Reed, it was covered by Mott the Hoople in 1973.
This is Mott the Hoople with Lou Reed’s “Sweet Jane”.
“All The Way From Memphis” is a single written by Mott the Hoople’s front man, Ian Hunter. It was released as the lead track from the album Mott in 1973. The song is based on true events and describes the unglamorous side of rock stardom …. the tale of a guitar lost in transit (shipped to Oriole, Kentucky instead of Memphis, Tennessee) and what seemed like a paltry and unenthusiastic concert audience. Despite the album’s popularity, the song never charted in the US although it did receive considerable airplay on album-oriented rock stations. The Mott album reached the Top 40 of the Billboard 200, peaking at #35.
This is “All The Way From Memphis” by Mott the Hoople, featuring the great Andy Mackay from Roxy Music on sax.
Big thanks to Glyn for hosting Mixed Music Bag every week.
Thanks for joining me today and spinning some tunes.
Written for The Daily Spur Writing Exercise where the challenge is to describe an object using only the sense of hearing. This is my description. The accompanying video will reveal what I am listening to.
Listening to this apparatus I hear what sounds like gentle cascading waterfalls similar to a bevy of swans as it glides onto and across a lake.
If I could hear fairies’ wings fluttering or hummingbirds hovering at their feeders, I believe they would sound like this.
There’s a regal quality, as well, like that of stately Baroque dancers performing a minuet.
Closing my eyes and listening intently, I see images of mushrooms sprouting through the earth, flowers opening, plants unfolding and trees shooting up to skies.
I can hear an arrow quivering through the air and insects buzzing by my ear.
The sun rises, slowly spreading glorious light from ocean to ocean and the silhouette of a ballerina pirouettes across the horizon.
I hear sand dunes shifting and snowflakes collecting on holly branches.
The heavens open as an albatross soars higher and higher to the tone a finely tuned Steinway.
This is J.S. Bach’s “Toccata and Fugue in D Minor”, usually played on a pipe organ. Here is Amy Turk … harpist, arranger, composer and session artist from the UK … playing Bach’s iconic piece which has been transcribed for the harp, the item I was describing.
The closest living relative to T Rex is … you guessed it … the chicken! So what does that tell us? Well, it’s obvious that neither the chicken nor the egg came first. The dinosaur came first!
Allow me to play devil’s advocate for a minute. Let’s say everything we read in the Bible is true, that God created all the animals in the sky, the sea and on the land. Since this all happened eons ago, we would then have to agree that God created the dinosaurs. The Book of Genesis doesn’t say anything about creating eggs but it certainly talks about the “beasts of the land”.
T Rex and friends stomped the earth, laying their eggs for however long they were here before an asteroid hit them. One theory is that some of those eggs survived and produced what has now evolved into the mighty chicken.
So there you have it, kids. No need to Google or go to the library or petition the Pope for his ex-cathedra decree. Thump on, you proud Bible-thumping, Chick-fil-A-eating, religious zealots. I do believe we have a winner. One might even say “Winner, winner, chicken dinner!”
Coming up next week: Why did the chicken cross the road?
Today’s theme at Song Lyric Sunday is all about songs that feature keyboards.
Well, kids, it’s been a while since I featured anything by The Beatles so it’s time to rectify that oversight right now. One of the things that’s so great about headlining The Beatles is everyone knows them so we can skip the foreplay and go right for the action. No introductions required.
There are a lot of great Beatles’ songs that feature keyboards; I’ve chosen two of my favorites with prominent piano throughout …. and it’s some mighty fine playing, too.
My first song up today is “Lady Madonna”. This bluesy number, written in 1967 by Paul McCartney, was recorded just prior to the group’s trip to India to study meditation with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. It was also their final release on Parlophone/Capitol; from “Hey Jude” onward (another great keyboard piece), The Beatles released all their subsequent singles and albums on their own Apple Records label.
The original concept for “Lady Madonna” was obviously the Virgin Mary but the song quickly became symbolic of every woman, a tribute to the mother figure and women in general. Paul said “I think women are very strong, they put up with a lot of shit, they put up with the pain of having a child, of raising it, cooking for it … they are basically skivvies* a lot of their lives so I always want to pay tribute to them”. *A female servant who does all the dirty work in the house.
“Lady Madonna” was released in the UK on March 15, 1968, with George Harrison’s “The Inner Light” as the B side. It entered the charts at #5 and a week later climbed to the top. It remained there for a second week and spent 8 weeks altogether on the chart. In the US it was released on March 18, 1968, and peaked at #4.
This is “Lady Madonna” by The Beatles
Lyrics
Lady Madonna, children at your feet Wonder how you manage to make ends meet Who finds the money when you pay the rent? Did you think that money was heaven sent?
Friday night arrives without a suitcase Sunday morning creeping like a nun Monday’s child has learned to tie his bootlace See how they run
Lady Madonna, baby at your breast Wonders how you manage to feed the rest
See how they run
Lady Madonna lying on the bed Listen to the music playing in your head (head)
Tuesday afternoon is never ending Wednesday morning papers didn’t come Thursday night, your stockings needed mending See how they run
Lady Madonna, children at your feet Wonder how you manage to make ends meet
Personnel Paul McCartney: vocals, piano, bass, handclaps John Lennon: backing vocals, lead guitar, handclaps George Harrison: backing vocals, lead guitar, handclaps Ringo Starr: drums, handclaps Ronnie Scott, Bill Povey: tenor saxophones Harry Klein, Bill Jackman: baritone saxophones
🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹
The second song I’ve chosen is “For No One”. Also written by Paul McCartney, it is best described as his meditation on the end of a love affair. This song was a critically acclaimed masterpiece and one of the highlights of the Revolver album. It’s a song about rejection and emptiness. The breakup of a relationship has always been a rich area to explore in a song, an emotion most people have experienced.
Originally titled “Why Did It Die?”, “For No One” was written in March 1966 while Paul was on a ski vacation in Switzerland with his then girlfriend, Jane Asher. Something tells me Paul had a premonition about the trajectory of his relationship with Jane when he wrote this one. Just saying.
Upon his return from Switzerland, Paul sang the melody for George Martin, who wrote it down. At the recording session was Paul, George Martin and a French horn player named Alan Civil, the principal horn player in the Philharmonia Orchestra. Neither Paul nor George Martin played the French horn nor were they experienced in transcribing music for it. Civil took one look at what Paul had created and George Martin had written down and thought it was rudimentary, at best. There were a few notes that were higher than usual for the French horn and he was unsure what it would sound like. Fortunately, there was no need for concern as the result was incredibly memorable. When Revolver was released, Alan Civil was given credit on the sleeve of the record …. one of a scant few session musicians to receive such a distinction on a Beatles’ record. The stunning French horn solos in “For No One” are arguably the most striking feature of the song.
This may be the only Beatles’ song which does not include John Lennon and George Harrison. I’m really not sure why; I searched for info on that and came up empty. If any reader knows for certain why John and George were not included on the recording, please fill us in. This song was 100% Paul’s baby. I’m guessing John and George not being present had nothing to do with differing opinions and everything to do with Paul wanting only the absolute essential personnel involved. Even Ringo was little more than window dressing.
Recording sessions were held on three separate days in May, 1966; “For No One” was released in the UK on August 5, 1966 and on August 8, 1966 in the US. Since The Beatles never performed any songs from the Revolver album live, “For No One” never saw a concert stage until Paul began his solo touring days.
This is “For No One” by The Beatles. Poetry at work as we hear the abrupt and unexpected ending of “For No One”; there really could be no other way.
Lyrics
Your day breaks, your mind aches You find that all her words of kindness linger on When she no longer needs you She wakes up, she makes up She takes her time and doesn’t feel she has to hurry She no longer needs you
And in her eyes, you see nothing No sign of love behind the tears Cried for no one A love that should have lasted years
You want her, you need her And yet you don’t believe her When she says her love is dead You think she needs you
And in her eyes, you see nothing No sign of love behind the tears Cried for no one A love that should have lasted years
You stay home, she goes out She says that long ago she knew someone But now he’s gone, she doesn’t need him Your day breaks, your mind aches There will be times when all the things she said will fill your head You won’t forget her
And in her eyes, you see nothing No sign of love behind the tears Cried for no one A love that should have lasted years
The fiery battle raged for days; in the end Evalyn, the Pirate Goddess, was victorious … but at what cost?
While fighting on deck, there was a sudden cannon retort followed by grapeshot finding its mark … Evalyn’s beautiful face. Her eyes were spared but she was disfigured.
That one day changed Evalyn into a stronger woman. For her, nothing else mattered.
Fashioning a mask of solid gold, she became Evalyn, the Noble Pirate.
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are encouraged to write creatively in 250 words or less using the photo below as inspiration. Here’s my story.
“No! Didn’t do it!” wailed Robbie, the dishwasher at Michael’s.
The waitstaff ran into the kitchen when they heard the crash. Shattered crystal covered the kitchen floor …. the new glasses for the lounge’s grand opening.
Robbie huddled in the corner like a little boy, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve. He was a 32 year old man with the mind of an eight year old, courtesy of that one decisive extra chromosome …. a little thing called Down Syndrome. Robbie’s brother Gary, the maître d’, crouched next to him while everyone stood in awkward silence.
“Robbie, accidents happen” Gary said calmly. “C’mon now. Everyone will pitch in.”
The crew began sweeping up …. everyone except Vic, the bartender.
“Not me. I ain’t helpin’!” snarled Vic. “It was that moron’s fault. He shouldn’t be around normal people!”
Michael Banks, the lounge owner, stormed into the kitchen. “What the hell’s going on?!” Slowly he looked around, taking in the whole scene, then asked everyone to leave except Robbie, Gary and Vic.
“Robbie, it’s ok” Michael said. “Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
Robbie sniffled. “I saw the boxes but I didn’t touch them, cross my heart and hope to die. Vic rushed in the back door and pushed me into the boxes.”
“You lyin’ freak!” sneered Vic. “Look, Mr. B. I’m tellin’ ya I didn’t do nothing.Who ya gonna believe – that retard or me?”
“That’s enough! It’s over!” Michael barked. “Grab a broom. We’re opening tonight on schedule.”
Written for Friday Fictioneers where Rochelle encourages us to get creative in 100 words or less using the photo below for inspiration. Here’s my story.
Triplet bumblebees Bizz, Bozz, and Buzz loved to bob from plant to flower to vine in the neighborhood alley. It was so bucolic, even the occasional visitor didn’t bother them.
Being such busy bees, they barely noticed the giant structure by the entrance.
“What’s that thing?” they asked in unison.
“Keep back! It’s a trap” warned Groucho the Grasshopper. “People say bad ideas are inside, dangerous goings-on about a Very Hungry Caterpillar, an Ant Bully and Bug Muldoon.”
The terrified triplets trembled, their little knees knocking.
“Bugger off now, boys! You don’t wanna be here when the soldier bees arrive!”
The Elephant's Trunk 