When I started getting into oddio, my friend Benari sent me a link to the 365 Days Project. From there I found April Winchell. And FMU after that. And now I are riting for them! (And since I'm sucking up, thanks to Derek at Here It Wow for getting me here) April is where I first listened Little Markie and Little Marcy and cringed to Tiny Tot Calvin sing A Cowboy for Jesus. April is the person that first introduced me to the phrase "CAUTION CHILDREN SINGING". So let me thank her with not one christian child singing but a whole bunch of recently converted Korean christian children singing America The Beautiful with there adorable reversals of "r" and "l".
This comes off an album called Billy James Hargis' Korean Guys and Dolls. I can find no real discrenable reason for this title. Produced in 1970, It bears no relation whatsoever to to the stage show/movie. In fact, there's not a single show tune on the album. It's 60% hymns, 15% traditional Korean folks songs an 15% Americana.
Quick Quiz! Here's the track list for side two in no particular order. What I'm looking for is the last song on the album. Bonus points if you get everything in the right order
How Great Thou Art America The Beautiful Blessed Assurance My Jesus Thou Wilt Battle Hymn of the Republic He Hideth My Soul Down in the Valley In the Garden
I'm so tempted to post the answer tomorrow but that seems horribly unfair. The answer is
Austin artist and Poodle co-creator Ethan Persoff recently had a lively face to face with John Ashcroft when he infiltrated a thoughtful, measured event titled "Can OBAMA ... KEEP AMERICA Safe? An Evening With John Ashcroft". His tale is well worth the read, especially for this moment:
I decide to double my bet. I lean up. "Mr Ashcroft, I'm sorry and I know this is tacky. Thank you so much for the photo. But can I also have an autograph?" My arms outstretched with a paper and pen, John ejaculates, "I can do one better. Why don't I just sit down."
Who is this John Ashcroft, you ask? Well, besides being Bush's Attorney General he is also well known as the voice behind America's unofficial anthem "Let the Eagle Soar"* (listen to Bryce's luscious cover version). But before that, a young Missouri State Auditor teamed up with fellow state politician Max Bacon to form the gospel duo Ashcroft & Bacon.
Here are the songs from their vanity pressing "Truth, Volume One". More photos and liner notes available here.
What do you get when you cross monotheism with wayout synthesizers and stage mothers? God’s Kids!
I’ve been advised by legal counsel that posting more than three of these songs might result in toxic levels of terminal cuteness for which I will be monetarily responsible for. I’m not about to get sued over a God’s Kid. Rather, I’m going to play the celestial bartender that gives you just enough that you’re drunk, but not drunk enough to get pulled over.
Cue the watery, funky syntesizer! That Jesus was so funny and quirky! And those kids are so adorable that I just wanna make sure they have the best time in Heaven that they possibly can! I'm not sure but I listen to this (and the other songs) with the volume cranked and I was pretty sure I could hear the mother's in the background mouthing words along with their sweet little children. But who, is that middle aged guy claiming he's a God's Kid, too. I'm keeping an eye on him.
There's something theologically unsound about the opening line of this one: "Long ago, even before He made the world, God chose you and me to be his very own." Given that the Creation Week paper work has never been released despite numerous FOI requests, we can't know if God pre-designed His course of action or just winged it. Either way, if you're not thinking about cutting yourself mid-way through this, then you're a better person than I.
Turn that frown upside-down, reader! When you get up to Heaven (because, after all, you're a God's Kid too) nothing will ever suck again. Ever. And you'll learn that listing the good things in Heaven is better than listing all those icky Earthly things that will make your impending death such a relief - like teachers! Or this song! Why? "'Cuz Jesus promised".
I wish I had discovered this tape in time to post it last week, but I only listened to it for the first time within the past three or four days. I know nothing about it, except that it is from a reel to reel tape which I bought at least a year ago (it can take me awhile to get through things....), and that all of the tapes from this purchase that I've listened to so far - maybe 12 or 14 of them - have some connection to the University of Notre Dame in the 1960's. Most were recorded there, or at events clearly sponsored by the University.
There have been lectures to seminary students about various subjects, in-service type lectures and question and answer sessions for newly married couples and new parents, even a couple of tapes featuring a symposium on Vatican II. Each tape was marked fairly accurately, often in some detail. I was looking forward to tape featuring a lecture on the teaching of sex education, given by someone named Susan Dick, but that one turned out to be so poorly recorded as to be unlistenable.
The tape featured today was actually mislabeled. The box reads "Father Putz: Laity Comes of Age". I was not particularly looking forward to Father Putz' lecture, and I'm glad to say that's not what was on the tape.
Instead of that lecture, what this tape held was quite a bit more interesting, and to me at least, quite stunning. Here we have a priest discussing his experiences on the day of, and days after, the death of The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., experiences which quickly led him to the decision to go to the funeral, an event which he also discusses. I can't quite put a handle on this man's accent (sometimes he sounds Swedish to me, at other times German), and I have no idea what his name might be, but I found this recording remarkable and completely irresistable.
In particular, I'm taken with the speaker's recall of the reaction in middle America - or at least some of those who he came in contact with - within a day of Dr. King's death, which included everything from absolute lack of interest to what sounds like almost a feeling of "good riddance", but mostly a profound lack of understanding of what had just happened, on the part of the white people (including some clergy) whom he came in contact with, and the speaker's inability to and frustration with finding a way to point out the problems in their attitudes.
But rather than bring up more of the things that make this so special to me, I'll just provide the link and let you find your own meaning in it. I have provided the speaker's introduction as a short file (five minutes), in which he makes mention of some of the other events going on that day (including a lecture by Mayor Lindsey of New York). This track really doesn't add much to the story, but it might be interesting for some of you. The main track is the second one, and it runs about thirty minutes. There was a discussion on the tape, after this speech, but I found it to be not nearly as interesting as the story itself.
Please enjoy this, offered as my tribute to Dr. King, one week late:
There've been a lot of Kennedys in the news lately, what with the Triborough Bridge being renamed for RFK, Teddy's ill health and now Caroline's gambit for Hillary's Senate seat. I know the bracing winds of change are all a-swirl, but the Hyannis Port horde sure do know how to hog the spotlight. Another Kennedy reference, and a rather bizarre one at that, came to my attention just the other day. I'd downloaded a collection of country gospel records on the old Loyal label out of Birmingham, Alabama, and, reviewing the track list, I spied a tune with a peculiar title and went to play it first. Now, unlike telling books from their covers, strange song titles almost always deliver exactly what you're hoping for—strange songs—and this number did so in spades. Here, give a listen:
[I can't say for sure, but this Bill Franklin sounds a whole lot like a feller with the same name who sang "I Died All Over You" and "Slippin' Around With Jole Blon" with Bud Messner & the Skyline Boys for Abbey in 1950.]
I haven’t been to a movie in so long that I can’t remember the last one I went to. Borat, maybe? But last weekend Sluggo and I went with a friend to see W. Our friend hated it, but we thought it was okay. It wasn’t the serious documentary our friend apparently wanted it to be, and it wasn’t a point-at-the-monkey laugh riot either. I thought the music editing was brilliant, and I thought the complete absence of Neil Bush was bizarre. If all you knew about the Bush family came from this movie, you would not even know that Neil Bush exists, even though you would know about Marvin Bush, and who ever heard of him before? He never cost taxpayers $1 Billion by playing banker at the savings and loan.
I read in the Daily News that some white people may not vote for Barak Obama because they’re racists and don’t believe a black man is capable of straightening out the economy. But why not? It wasn’t black people who screwed it up. It was white Christian conservatives like George W. Bush who destroyed the entire world economy in just 8 years of unregulated “capitalism.” (And then, as soon as his white Christian conservative capitalist friends started losing money, he nationalized the banks.) It’s hard to see how a half-white Christian liberal could do any worse than that.
And how come the Republicans have quit talking about how Sarah Palin’s husband is mixed-race? He’s, like, a quadra-mo or an Eski-roon or something. But you never hear about it anymore.
Today it came out that the Republican National Committee spent over $150,000 to make Palin and her family presentable for the campaign. I can’t believe they spent so much to put lipstick on that pig! They could have been using that money for Cindy McCain’s botox. Then there’s the investigation into how Palin fired the Alaska Public Safety Commissioner because he wouldn’t fire her estranged brother-in-law: The investigation committee determined that Palin had abused her power and broken ethics laws. So then she started announcing at all her rallies that she’s relieved to have been “cleared of all wrong-doing.”
Somebody better tell the RNC to buy some more lipstick—they’ve got a lot to cover up.
Thanks for reading my blogpost this time, and may God bless.
Pentecostal "mouthpiece of God" from Plano, Texas, Doyle Davidson. Right out of a Norman Rockwell painting, isn't he?
This gentle and unassuming ol' boy triumphantly screams from the rooftops how much he loves his new wife, warmly offers kudos to a member of his congregation for that nice e-mail he sent and offers neighborly assistance to a younger congregant who looks as though he's getting ready to puke all over himself. "The Devil and Doyle Davidson"? Folks, the Devil is Doyle Davidson.
After a month long sojourn in rural New Jersey (holla, Freehold!), I'm back to the old blogamawhosits world, and frankly I'm feeling a little left behind. That internet moves fast, I tell ya, and you have to be on top of the latest meme or you'll seem, you know, UNcool. So I spent the whole day today catching up on blogs, news, sudden underground phenomenons, and sarcastic nasty commentaries - and finally I discovered what I've really been missing. THIS:
If you subscribe to Sutton's revised history lesson, the most evil thing about the 70s wasn't Richard Nixon, but a young composer named Tom Wilson Weinberg. His album Gay Name Game was a direct product of the way-gay hey-day of the late 70s. His off-Broadway plays were a hit in Village, and he also wrote a little ditty called "Lesbian Seagull", which became legendary many years later as a meaningful moment for Beavis and Butthead (and Engelbert Humperdink). His second album, All-American Boy, is full of gay anthems - and an incredibly literal title track. If you like Tom's stylings, you can buy your own copy of the original vinyl recordings directly from the man himself. At only $5, how can you go wrong? (via Waxidermy)
Work out to: "All American Boy"
What to write about? My bi-weekly dilemma. What's on my mind? Unemployment, mostly my own. One can only stretch the term "freelance" so thin before one is actually just dicking around on Facebook all day. What else? This whole Sarah Palin thing. And believe me, I hate that her name should even appear in one of my blog posts, forever tainting it. I would never wear one of those "Not My President" buttons, as that would put Bush's vacuous mug square on my lapel every day. Still, it's more than a little disconcerting that a doncha-know hockey-mom with a wild stare (see right) who's a Pentecostal and supports teaching religious-based alternatives to evolution could easily be our President within the next few years. "Hurricane Sarah" herself has taken to the phrasing "Palin-McCain" rather than "McCain-Palin." All signs seem to point to "this is not a person fit to run the country, should the President be unable to fulfill their duties." It's even more distressing that, as America continues its descent into our own Dark Ages, after eight years of declining everything, about half of us seem to desire more of the same. There are many who, much to my astonishment, seek (whether they realize it or not) the perpetuation of this roller coaster ride into financial, social and literal Armageddon. I suppose they imagine that it will be they who are airlifted to heaven when The Rapture they so doggedly pursued finally arrives. We are not simply in a dialog about which side of the political fence has more "haters," this is not some figurative discussion like "my dog's better than your dog" - this is the next four years of our lives at a very, very shaky time in this country's history, and how anyone with even the most meager observational powers could be more afraid of Barack Obama than the McCain/Palin ticket is hard to fathom.
Am I pleased about anything? Sure. I need my escapist pabulum too. The original American big city, the city of brotherly love, finally has a great, brutally funny TV show, and has for several years - though not enough of you have been paying attention. (You know you can TiVo On the Record w/Greta and watch it later.) The FX comedy series, It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia, returned to the air for its fourth season on September 18. The show centers on five amoral screw-ups, viciously self-serving individuals, capable of great self-debasement, who together run a dive bar in Philly. It's a fluid ensemble piece that's like Seinfeld without money. Seinfeld with
hard drugs, trannies and cannibalism. In fact, most episodes of Sunny are like a flaming ball of comedic chaos rolling down a very steep hill. How a show that uses the word "bang" in almost every episode (as in "which one of us would you like to take you in the back and bang you?") can come across as consistently fresh and clever boggles the mind, but their formula is on a mighty roll. Watch some of the promo clips on YouTube, since that's where you spend your life anyway. I'll be watching every Thursday at 10 (the show is also repeated several times throughout the week.) And yes, I'm a hater. I hate Sarah Palin. And football on TV. And twins.
Your eBay Auctionatrix hasn't retired. I took a brief sabbatical so I could get the flu and move to a new apartment in a secret bunker beneath the Hudson River. No, the two are not related. Really. Shut up.
Now I'm back and ready to hawk various collectible and interesting wares in an effort to separate you from your ill-earned cash, and to facilitate the delivery of that dirty money to the Freeform Station of the Nation.
Original Autographed Photo of Winona Ryder Yay-uh! This is a photo still from the 1991 Jim Jarmusch film Night On Earth. In the background is an out-of-focus but still smokin' (literally, har har) Gena Rowlands. Somehow, we got our nicotine stained paws on this photo which was actually signed by Ms. Winona Ryder. Holy crap, right?
It looks like she signed it with one of those fine point black Sharpie markers. Good choice! (When I get all famous and stuff, I'll make sure to carry one of those around with me, too.)
Fred Rose 78rpm Record "Don't Feel Sorry For Me" b/w "No One Will Ever Know" This record, a special radio pressing, was released on the Columbia label.
Aw c'mon, you know Fred Rose. He co-wrote some of the finest popular and country music classics of the 1940s with his writing partner, Roy Acuff. Sometimes Mr. Rose wrote under the nom de plume "Floyd Jenkins," as he did for the B-side of this rekkid.
Fred Rose also wrote, with Hank Williams, some of Mr. Williams' finest and most popular songs.
Rose is a charter member of the Country Music Hall of Fame, he is in the Nashville Songwriter's Hall of Fame, and the Songwriter's Hall of Fame. Nice credentials!
L.A.'s finest with their ode to America's Favorite Holiday. This very collectible 45rpm record features an unclean side entitled "*uck Christmas" and a clean side, "(Beep) Christmas" so you have something to play for the kiddies. It comes in the original paper sleeve with the beloved stamp on it.
Yes, it's the original issue on Slash Records. Don't venture your way to the latter half of 2008 without it. That is, if you are the lucky highest bidder. Act now. Operators are standing by.
I could not stop gaping at the figure in the casket not moving. The most unsettling and uncomfortable moment in my entire life. When you’ve never been to a funeralin your entire life, either, things like "Cavemen" are no longer unsettling the way they were supposed to be before. This wasn’t Christmas Day of '79 when I was six and wouldn’t have thought anything of Grandpa Fred not waking up because he didn’t want to wake up. This is June 9, 2008, I'm 34 and gasping blankly because I can't think of anything else except somebody not waking up because they can't. I met my wife Angie's mom Carole no more than four times but they were four cool times. Enough that I would feel genuinely choked up when I viewed her again before the funeral. For one thing, she was real. If she didn’t like you she was not going to sugarcoat it. She would, in fact, wield her dislike for you straight to your face. If she liked you she wouldn't say "Oh, it is such a great pleasure to meet you!" but you'd know if she liked you. But she did her absolute best and raised a terrific daughter.
So I'm not a frequent blogger, but was feeling it was time for a post...sometimes it comes to me, sometimes it doesn't. Up to the other day, it hadn't. I was in the middle of my program last Thursday, playing a piece by the Squirm Orchestra called "Nature Slaughter Scenes" and BAM!! It hit me. But I'll give you some info on the catalyst before I go into another horrific story of something else I've seen in my life that was mortifying, and I just happened to be there - don't get that reference? Check a past blog post here. Squirm Orchestra are from the Indiana/Michigan area, are a sextet, whose improv electro hand-sewn cd: Somersaults Inside Ourselves is in the WFMU new bin right now. It's finely crafted both visually and aurally; nice! OK, now for the bloody stuff, goody!
Before we get to this month's MP3 finds, I need to tell you all about something terrible that is happening in Colorado right now:
Cross dressers are invading the public restrooms!!! Protect the children!!! Well, at least, that's exactly what Focus on the Family suggests in their newest PSA.
Seriously, the proposed bill is just a simple anti-discrimination act (pdf of the bill) that updates all the basic rights so that they also apply to *gasp* sexual orientation. It has absolutely nothing to do with letting people use whatever toilet they feel like, unless you very literally read "Places of Public Accommodation" to mean the shitter and not, you know, the legal definition which refers to hotels, restaurants, stores, and other public places. The religious conservatives threw a fit trying to tilt this into something way weirder than it was. And they failed, as the bill passed and was signed into law.