Crawfish Musing

  I’ve managed to celebrate 46 of these days now. they used to be crazy, unrestricted abandon. 45 versions later, i’ve mellowed a bit. A gorgeous day here in TO, Hope your Canada day is fruitful.  and ur getting out.

Having a positive day. writing, planning and reading great stuff -   Been working my way through JM Coetzee ( especially Disgrace)) ,  I like this guy a lot. Not being pretentious ( he won the Nobel Prize for Lit) but he is brutal,  frank.But ITS GREAT READING. His meaty ideas flow around politics, human condition and usually have a main character that is a conflicted older, single man,grappling with notions of sex/relationships ( butmore to it than that), you’ve read him tho, i figger. Now reading Diary of a Bad Year. Yeah.  Good way to start the Day. Brutal. 

Feeling positive today -  surrounded by this ocean of negativity. 

I returned from a wicked afternoon bike ride out along the big lake, to Humber Bay, watched Ethiopians celebrate Canada Day, wearing head scarves and MTL Canadiens t-shirts.  Crazy. This is a country,  EH???    now raising  a tasty cold brew on the deck with the White Stripes pumping through the house.  LOUD. HOTTEST BUTTON

Next up The Hold Steady. 

Given all the chatter surrounding US governors lately  -  i heard Keith Olbermann paraphrase Dorothy Parker tonite, that I’d like to remember.  You can lead a horticulture,  but you can’t make her think. Grace O’Toole where are you now?

When my time went so quickly, I went lickety split-yOut to my ol 55.  As I pulled away slowly, feeling so holy/ God knows I was feeling alive. Ever feel that way,  after you walk away from a evening with someone? Unsure. Is it elation? Is it sadness? Six in the morning and I remain more confused that when this day began. Freeway, cars and trucks.I lead the parade of hopeless, hapless men.  

“i don’t wanna be your friend. I just wanna be your lover.” (T. Yorke)So this is what its come to. Saturday night, actually having a productive, inventive and creative day. But now night is here, i find myself cloistered - Cooking, a nice bottle of pinot going on and Radiohead playing. By casual selection,  music has blending with the tone of the evening -  Dean & Britta, joe henry, alicia keys  Or is the music setting the tone? But it seems,  as I face down my 45th year, it ’s a good moment. Moment. That’s the key. Question to you -  do the moments sustain or is the overall feeling what drives you? What gets you out the door in the morning? The fact that there have been moments or the fact that a positive, motivated pulse runs through your day?You tell me. Im busy drinking a  nice pinot. 

Inside Out remains his masterpiece. Its staggering to think this was released 35 years ago. Opening with  ”Fine Lines” this is what surged through my head as a wide-eyed 20 year old. Someone handed me a cassette with “Inside Out” on one side and “One World” on the other.  I had just tripped back from a Rolling Stones concert in Munich in 1982 - I was living in Switzerland at the time, living at the foot of the Eiger and Jungfrau mountains. Overwhelming surroundings. The beauty of the Swiss Alps are only now sinking in. As a 20 year old, other things took precedent.  With Jagger ( and J Geils)  ringing in my ears,  John Martyn records were replaced on the hostel stereo.My traveling pal hated the stereo, hated the Walkman. it took me away from her.  But for me it connected me to this insane dimension of  improvisation, this struggle to define the emotions that were raging through my body at the time. Traveling through Europe not only changed my personality,  but radically shifted my perspective of what emotion, passion and music was and could be. Suddenly, thrusting my fist into the air wasnt the only permitted reaction. Hearing Martyn moan, groan and tear himself apart in the tracks on “Must Be Love”   ripped me apart leaving me unsure, questioning what this was surging through my body and mind.  I’m not sure “Start Me Up ” was doing the same thing. A swirling, uncontrolled passion came through that i desparately clung to. As long as love eluded this deluded recently  deflowered teenager, it was becoming obvious that perhaps the Stones were suddenly becoming a distant second or twelfth. Structure and verse/chorus mattered less. Sounds, groans and passion made more sense to me.And now  - listening to John Martyn 20 years later,  it still tears me apart. Glorious music. Thrilling to hear. The  aggressive threat  of “Look In”, balanced with the acoustic track “Beverly”, pure love. It pushes so deep into the heart, into the soul into the emotion that you feel when you see the woman you love respond to the touch of another , walk away, leave you standing there. John knew. John expressed it for us.  Yearning,  anger,  anger,  love  -  it was all rolled into one.   But make no mistake. Its love. But you find yourself standing there alone. Looking out. Confused. And she is gone. BUt maybe a little less alone, cause John was there.  It was boiling inside us. It wasnt perfect. Not every note was hit, but it exploded out -  he yelled it for me, dammit.  I wanted to shout those words to you. But i didnt have the courage, John had it for me. John did it for me. Each track took me deeper , drove me towards allowing say it myself. The final track exploded out - so much in love with you baby -  the anguish, the pain.  Got no little boy left. he nailed it. And today,  I  can’t find my copy of Tattoo You.  

One week off from work. here’s how it evolved. From wandering on saturday morning, looking for coffee and food to a 20 year old debt to being pulled over at the border. all here.

Thanks. New Years 2008 ( i’m still celebrating. why arent you?). And I’m listening to Brazilian Girls. It seems appropriate. Karen Black and friends. (How was the New Years eve show in SF?)  

Labour Day Monday. I am getting worked up for the start of the NFL season. Arent you?

I’ve now watched, heard and ignored the damn airshow in Toronto for 3 straight days.

Y’know, i thought it was cool on Saturday. watched most of  it from the shoreline at Lake Ontario. Went back just because of the noise of the Stealth bomber shredding the sky. OK OK - its only one weekend. But a third day ? What was that?  Streaking across my backyard for the third time. I coulodn’t ignore it. How could you? It drowned out the TV as a freaking jets shot across the sky.  I am trying to watch  football. Shredding in the sky, shredding on the field. It’s Monday and I should be working.

The Opera House is packed for the Toronto return of the Hold Steady. The band seemed pumped up after the appearance that weekend at Lollapalooza.  I’ve heard a lot about the live show, the drinking, the replacement Replacements.  Its not the same thing.  Hold Steady are not the Replacements. But I still liked them.  Opened with Hornets, Hornets and closed with Southtown Girls.  Played mostly songs from the last two records. The crowd was most  un-Toronto - engaged,  singing along, loud, clapping on cue and often with little of no encouragement from the stage.  Is Toronto crowds loosening up  a little? 

But a lousy sound mix at the Opera House made the show a little less than what it could’ve been.   The bass overwhelmed and drowned the great guitars that shoulda been screaming.  Vocals were upfront, which is critical for Hold Steady. energy is there, excitement is there,  but I don’t think the band was there. Just over one hour and they finished the set. good show, but it didnt blow me away.

I have to start somewhere. This is the beginning. Saturday morning of the long August weekend. Here’s what happens - right after my first taste of coffee.