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The steady drip, drip, drip, of bad news and anti-Trump media sentiment (which is not news) is just torture:

That track is actually from a Disney vinyl I had as a kid.  Like "The Song Of The South," you just can't make that stuff any more.
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I promised deborah a shot of my (white) calla lilies, which are in bloom:

There are three levels of flar goin' on. There is a bottom row of tulips which came and went in February. What's left of them can be seen better here:

Tulips are interspersed between rocks and sand. Lilies and star jasmine are rooted in the higher soil, covered with Korean grass. The star jasmine, the climber on the racks, is not yet in bloom; this should happen out here in May or whenever the weather holds steady above 70.

Added: A "before" shot taken that first year when I was still working on the inside:

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Because we do...

...or perhaps we need a little Easter.

If you watch the video, see if you can spot a very young Kenny Rogers. He's the guy playing the bass.

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Bonzoleum, the maker of the video, clowns around, but I am entertained. He notes the stamina required to play the 12 minute song. I know because I was captivated by that very song as a 15 year-old when it first came out. I still consider it peak Bonham. That song alone probably took a point off my high school GPA: I liked nothing more than to skip school, go home, and practice songs in the basement much like in the video. It was addictive. I especially liked the shuffle beat that Bonham laid out in the middle during Page's guitar solos and also the snare drum marching fill at 9m 55s which is the direct precursor to every anthemic drum beat by U2. Bonzoleum nails the cover with only a few errors. I recently tried "air drumming" the whole thing and I'm thinking of doing this as aerobic exercise; air drums are even more strenuous because there is no bounce there.

Bob Dylan recorded a cover of "In My Time Of Dying" on his very first (1962) album:

Dylan's version traces back to recordings by various black southern artists, notably one by Blind Willie Johnson. The song's refrain "Jesus gonna make up my dying bed" in turn goes back to Psalms 41:3:

The Lord will strengthen him upon the bed of languishing, Thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness.

Our word Psalm derives from the Ancient Greek word ψαλμός (psalmos), said to describe the twitchy twangy plucking sound made by a harp or zither.* The Greek word in turn is a translation of the Hebrew word מזמור (mizmor) which is also rooted in "pluck." Psalms were sacred songs, poems, or poetic compositions used by worshippers.

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Man that whole album takes me back. My dad bought that soundtrack album for the cover art. He was a SCUBA nut and collected everything SCUBA he could get -- even including Van Halen's Diver Down -- just for the cover art.

I didn't see the 1965 film until much later -- I was 5 when it came out -- but I got the story from Mad Magazine: They drafted cartoon panel versions of every "M" rated film so that us kids could get the gist of the stories. You could say that I grew up around the music on that album. I think my brother and I played the LP more than he did. Like I said, he bought it for the cover art.

The first Bond film I saw was Diamonds Are Forever when I was 11. My dad took my brother and me to see it. Dad was so excited that Sean Connery came back to play Bond (he never accepted the other actors as "real" Bonds). Of course my mother didn't go. She didn't exactly approve of his taking us along either.

Interesting sidebar: The underwater scenes were directed by Ricou Browning (for which he won an Oscar).  Browning was already on my radar as a preteen because he had played the Gill-man in the Creature From The Black Lagoon series in the '50's. Browning's other credits included Flipper and also co-creating Weeki-Watchee Springs in Florida -- a place I saw in 1968 on a glorious family road trip.  I just learned that Browning is still alive (b. 1930) and he is the last surviving Universal Pictures Horror actor.

More Thunderball cover art discreetly below the fold:

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Killer guitar solo at the end.

Full lyrics after the jump!

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This song music made me think of Robbie Krieger and Dust Bunny Queen in the same breath. Who can tell me why?

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My ticket stub is undated, but a little sleuthing and the Sunday clue let me date that concert as February 14, 1982. Valentine's Day. Another clue is the price: $9! That's a bit more than I was used to paying in the 70's. By then, rock stars had real drug habits to support.

I'll never forget my date that night. She got wasted and spent a good deal of the concert puking her guts out in the ladies room. Then I sat with her on the steps in the hallway ringing the Coliseum, getting her back to normal. I missed most of that show, though I was there in spirit.

RIP, Ric. Here's my favorite song/s:

I always liked the way that the two songs melded together on vinyl.

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The song was inspired by a spectacular meteor shower in 1833 Alabama. Leonids, as it were: We pass through the debris trail of the same comet every 33 years or so -- always in November and this recurring collision causes chaos in the skies.

Wait for it.

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Overheard at Lem's:

He was from Leicester, NC (pronounced LIE-ster).  link

Well that triggered a memory of The Pogues' "The Old Main Drag:"

Shane MacGowan sings "One evening as I was lying down by Leicester Square
I was pulled in by the coppers and kicked in the balls..." and he pronounces Leicester as "Lester."

The song's narrative somehow reminds me of Titus.

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Triggering Chris Cuomo:

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Papa was a Rollin' Stone (for reals)

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I first heard these guys at my very first job in Madison. There was a submarine sandwich shop out of Milwaukee called Suburpia on University Ave. The manager used to play this album on a cassette loop. That was perfect music for making sandwiches on demand.

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Roy Orbison toured Britain in the summer of 1963 with a much younger but lesser-known band second on the bill.

John Lennon later recalled:

We were selling records [in the UK] but we were still second on the bill, and one of our first big tours was second on the bill to Roy Orbison. It was pretty hard to keep up with that man. He really put on a show; well, they all did, but Orbison had that fantastic voice.  

That fantastic voice -- a three octave range.

More from the Wiki regarding that summer of '63 tour:

Orbison's first meeting with John Lennon was awkward because Orbison was overwhelmed with the amount of advertising devoted to The Beatles when Orbison was supposed to headline the show. Beatlemania, however, was taking hold and Orbison accepted that he was not quite the main draw, so he decided to go first on stage. On opening night, the audience reacted intensely toward Orbison's ballads, as he finished with 'In Dreams'. 

Philip Norman, a Beatles biographer, later wrote: 'As Orbison performed, chinless and tragic, The Beatles stood in the wings, wondering how they would dare to follow him'. After demanding Orbison play for double the time he was scheduled, the audience then screamed for a fifteenth encore, which Lennon and Paul McCartney refused to allow by holding Orbison back from re-entering the stage.

Years later, a reviewer distilled the essence of In Dreams, including a sublime reference to Orbison's superior vocal range:

Echoes of ranchera music offer bittersweet counterpoint from the lulling intro, through the aching verses to a finish that just seems to evaporate.

Listen again and try not to think of Dean Stockwell and Dennis Hopper.

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The song holds up well after 50 years. I posted this because after all these years, I just found something new and cool about it.

Weather's Here - Wish You Were Beautiful

Don't click on the video if you don't care for the song. I put the video up for its cover art start page.

Something weird happened on the WH lawn yesterday. But don't worry, I think Presidents have immunity from the Immolation Clause.

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The song has a 6/8 time signature. All I hear is 1-2-3 1-2-3, like a waltz. I tried following this video but got distracted by the hostess. Perhaps Sixty could explain 6/8 in layman terms. Like he did for the song "Whipping Post" off the same classic album.

The song features unusual uses of silence. First is the full stop around the 3m20s mark. And then how they let the song flicker and almost go out near the end. And lastly how the stunned audience pauses at the very end before applauding -- almost like they weren't sure it was over.

The song cooks --Stay cool!

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linky

Amusing: Those codgers playing along lyrics talking about giving head. And he got paid double! Herbie Flowers was nowhere as prolific as say, Carole Kaye was, but hey, he was stuck in England.

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Overheard at Lem's:

"We have gotten a stupid amount of rain this year and a break would be nice."

Be careful what you wish for, Sixty:

link

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Imagine being named Jimi Hendrix's favorite guitarist...

link

...meet the late Terry Kath (1946-1978).

That song is golden. Chicago was a horny band, but that song was horn-free. The band was tight, and truly inspired for their time. Watch it -- shades of everything in that one.

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Dick Dale has died. He was 81. I'm reposting an emotional post written several years ago after seeing him play after a bout with cancer: "You Are My Medicine."

 R.I.P.
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A week ago my wife and I saw Dick Dale play a show at the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano. I dropped a few emotional tweets about the show here, here,  here and here, and even wrote a comment over on Sissy Willis' blog here. I can't add much more. Dick Dale has his own long history and I feel very fortunate to have seen this latest show. According to this reporter, rumors of his imminent retirement are exaggerated. I hope so.

Dick Dale is 73 years old now and has been performing locally since 1955. When he first came onstage he gave a long spiel about fighting cancer and about having to cancel a bunch of upcoming shows, including a tour of Japan. He told the audience "No way could I cancel this show--you are my medicine."
 
He said that he was running a fever of 102. My wife, who has cared for a lot of cancer patients, could read between the lines and knew exactly what he was going through treatment-wise.  His weakness forced him to sit the entire show but it didn't matter--he played as well as he ever had. We were seated at a table across from a gentleman who has followed Dick Dale since 1961 and he was clearly enjoying this one as much as ever. I'm sorry I don't have a better photo of Dale. I felt drawn to him, wanting to get closer to him more and more as the show unfolded. But the very front was occupied by close friends and family and there just wasn't any way to politely intrude on their space and so I didn't.

What got me emotionally was the obvious bond between father and son onstage. Jimmy Dale, who just turned 18, has been playing onstage with his dad since he was little.  There were times when both father and son would be playing in unison and Dick would take his hands off the guitar as if to say "look no hands" while Jimmy just kept the riff going.  That's amazing.  Such obvious affection between the two.

Dick Dale has a reputation for eschewing drugs and alcohol. He says that he went through the treatments without pain meds. After the show his last words were again "You are my medicine!"  When he stood up after the show, he visibly grimaced in pain and he was helped offstage by his son and another man. We never saw him again.

After the show, Jimmy was hanging around the fans, posing for pictures and signing the usual autographs. I thought of a photo but it was too dark and I didn't have a flash. My wife took Jimmy's hand and told him: "You tell your Dad that he's a great inspiration for cancer patients." He said "I will."

Photo used with permission of Ron