Lulu “To Sir, With Love”

“To Sir, with Love” from the album, To Sir, With Love (1967). Also a soundtrack to a movie of the same name starring Sidney Poitier. Very, very nice.  She is a 19 years old girl in that video above.

in Incredibly,  here she is, 40 years later, at age 59. She looks as good as she did at 19 and maybe even better! She’s not only knockout dead gorgeous, but her voice is as good as it was three decades ago. I told you women my age can be hot. Well, a few of them anyway.

Those schoolgirl days
Of telling tales
And Biting nails
Are gone
But in my mind
I know they will still live on and on

But how do you thank someone
Who has taken you from crayons to perfume?
It isn’t easy, but I’ll try

If you wanted the sky
I would write across the sky
In letters
That would soar a thousand feet high:
“To Sir, with love”

The time has come
For closing books
And long last looks
Must end
And as I leave
I know that I am leaving my best friend

A friend who taught me
Right from wrong
And weak from strong
That’s a lot to learn
What, what can I give you in return?

If you wanted the moon
I would try to make a start
But I would rather you let me give my heart:
To Sir, with love

If you wanted the moon
I would try to make a start
But I would rather you let me give my heart:
To Sir, with love

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Rolling Stones, “Dead Flowers”

The Rolling Stones, “Dead Flowers” from Sticky Fingers (1970)

Great music from the Rolling Stones here from one of their best albums and in fact, one of the greatest rock and roll albums ever made. The Rolling Stones, the original bad boys.

From Elvis and Chuck Berry -> Rolling Stones -> Velvet Underground -> MC5, Stooges, Pink Fairies, Blue Cheer,  etc. ->  Glam rock  David Bowie, T.  Rex, Mott the Hoople, Queen, Lou Reed, Aerosmith, Roxy Music, Eno, Todd Rundgren -> Proto-Punk: New York Dolls, Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers  -> Punk Rock!

Well, when you’re sitting there
In your silk upholstered chair
Talkin’ to some rich folk that you know
Well I hope you won’t see me
And my ragged company
Well, you know I could never be alone

Take me down little Susie, take me down
I know you think you’re the queen of the underground
And you can send me dead flowers every morning
Send me dead flowers by the mail
Send me dead flowers to my wedding
And I won’t forget to put roses on your grave

Well, when you’re sitting back
In your rose pink Cadillac
Making bets on Kentucky Derby Day
I’ll be in my basement room
With a needle and a spoon
And another girl to take my pain away

Take me down little Susie, take me down
I know you think you’re the queen of the underground
And you can send me dead flowers every morning
Send me dead flowers by the mail
Send me dead flowers to my wedding
And I won’t forget to put roses on your grave

Take me down little Susie, take me down
I know you think you’re the queen of the underground
And you can send me dead flowers every morning
Send me dead flowers by the U.S. Mail
Say it with dead flowers in my wedding
And I won’t forget to put roses on your grave
No, I won’t forget to put roses on your grave

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Jackson Browne, “Redneck Friend”

Jackson Browne, “Redneck Friend,” from the album, “For Everyman.”

Also very nice. We were really into Jackson Browne too back in the day. He was huge in the 1970’s.

We were hippies back then, and we really hated rednecks. I still sort of do, actually. Somehow the rednecks won the revolution, took over the government and ruled society. How the Hell did that happen. It could so easily have gone the other way.

This song sounds like the people Jason lives around ha ha.

Pretty little one
How has it all begun?
They’re teaching you how to walk, but you’re already on the run
Little one, what you gonna do?
Little one, honey, it’s all up to you

Now your daddy’s in the den shootin’ up the evening news
Mama’s with a friend, lately she’s been so confused
Little one, come on and take my hand
Well, I may not have the answer, but I believe I got a plan

Honey, you shake, I’ll rattle, we’ll roll on down the line
See if we can’t get in touch with a very close friend of mine
But let me clue you in
It ain’t like him
To argue or pretend
Well, honey let me introduce you to my redneck friend

Well, they’ve got a little list of all those things of which they don’t approve
Well, they’ve got to keep their eyes on you or you might make your move
Little one, I really wish you would
Little one, I think the damage would do you good

Honey, you shake, I’ll rattle, we’ll roll on down the line
We’re going to forget all about the battle, it’s gonna feel so fine
‘Cause he’s the missing link
The kitchen sink
Eleven on a scale of ten
Well honey, let me introduce you to my redneck friend

Well honey, you shake, I’ll rattle, we’ll roll on down the line
I’m going to try to swing you up into my saddle
And then we’ll run but you’ll think we’re flyin’
Honey, don’t just stand there lookin’ like this dream will never end
Honey, let me introduce you to my redneck friend
I said, “Honey, let me introduce you to my redneck friend”

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Velvet Underground, “Rock and Roll”

Lou Reed, “Rock and Roll,” from the album “Velvet Underground,” 1969.

If this isn’t the greatest music ever made, I’ll eat my hat. Lou Reed is God.

Oh one more thing for all you capitalists out there. The late, great, short-lived Velvet Underground? You know, them? They never made a nickel. Hey capitalists, take your “success” bullshit and cram it up right up your greedy asses, ok?

Jenny said when she was just five years old
There was nothing happening at all
Every time she puts on a radio
There was a nothin’ goin’ down at all
Not at all

Then one fine mornin’
She puts on a New York station
You know, she couldn’t believe what she heard at all
She started shakin’ to that fine fine music
You know her life was saved by rock ‘n’ roll

Despite all the amputations
You know you could just go out
And dance to a rock ‘n’ roll station

It was all right (it was all right)
Hey baby, you know it was all right (it was all right)

Jenny said when she was just about five years old
You know why parents gonna be the death of us all
Two TV sets and two Cadillac cars
Well you know, it ain’t gonna help me at all
Not just a tiny bit

Then one fine mornin’
she turns on a New York station
She doesn’t believe what she hears at all
Ooh, she started dancin’ to that fine fine music
You know her life is saved by rock ‘n’ roll
Yeah rock ‘n’ roll

Despite all the computations
You could just dance
To that rock ‘n’ roll station

And baby it was all right (it was all right)
Hey it was alright (it was all right)
Hey here she comes now!
Jump! jump!

Jenny said when she was just about five years old
Hey you know there was nothing happening at all Not at all
Every time I put on the radio
You know there’s nothin’ goin’ down at all
Not at all

Then one fine mornin’
She hears a New York station
She just didn’t believe what she heard at all
Hey, not at all
She started dancin’ to that fine fine music
You know her life was saved by rock ‘n’ roll
Yes rock ‘n’ roll

Despite all the computation
You know you could just dance
To a rock ‘n’ roll station

All right
All right
And it was all right

Well, listen to me now
And it was all right

Come on, man, listen
It was all right
It was all right
And it was all right

All right!
It’s all right
All right!
Yeah, it’s all right now
All right!
Yeah, it’s all right now
All right!
It is all all right
All right!
Yeah, all right now
All right!
And it’s all right right now
All right!
And it’s all right now
All right!
Oh baby all right!
Oh baby all right!
Oh baby all right!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
All right!
Now it’s alright now
All right!
Ooh, it’s alright now
All right!
Oh, all right
All right!
All right now
All right!

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Blondie, “Dreaming”

Blondie, “Dreaming” from the album “Dreaming,” 1979.

My God, isn’t this a great song. I can’t believe I was around when this music first came out. Let me tell you, it was a special time.

Isn’t she sexy as Hell, too? Damn I can’t believe how sexy this chick is. She’s raw, pure, 100% sex, animal and flesh, rutting in the mud like pigs in the setting sun without a care.

When I met you in the restaurant
You could tell I was no debutante
You asked me what’s my pleasure
“A movie or a measure”?
I’ll have a cup of tea and tell you of my dreamin’
Dreamin’ is free
Dreamin’, dreaming is free

I don’t want to live on charity
Pleasure’s real or is it fantasy?
Reel to reel is living verite
People stop and stare at me
We just walk on by
We just keep on dreamin’

Beat feet, walking a two-mile
Meet me, meet me at the turnstile
I never met him, I’ll never forget him
Dream dream, even for a little while
Dream dream, filling up an idle hour
Fade away, radiate

I sit by and watch the river flow
I sit by and watch the traffic go
Imagine something of your very own,
something you can have and hold
I’d build a road in gold just to have some dreamin’
Dreamin’ is free

Dreamin’, dreamin’ is free
Dreamin’, dreamin’ is free
Dreamin’, dreamin’ is free

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The Damned, “New Rose”

Remember I played “Smash it up” by these guys a while back? Same guys.

The Damned, “New Rose” from the album, “Damned Damned Damned,” their first album from 1977. This was one of the all-time classic punk rock albums from the early days, up there with “Never Mind the Bollocks,” by the Sex Pistols.

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Thin Lizzy, “Running Back”

Thin Lizzy, “Running Back” off the “Jailbreak” album, 1976.

This is the original album cover for the Jailbreak album of that year. I remember that cover so well! I can’t believe how many great songs were on that album. This was originally supposed to be single, but they chose other songs instead. This song is rather slow, a love song. I like it.

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Thin Lizzy, “Cowboy Song”

“Cowboy Song,” by Thin Lizzy, from the “Jailbreak” album, 1976.

This is another great band from the 1970’s. I saw them once in LA, I believe opening for Aerosmith. Quite a concert, let me tell ya! The lead singer was a Black guy, a Black Irishman at that! We really loved this band back in the day. We played this album all the time.

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If We’re All Gonna Die Anyway, Let’s Go Destroy Some Shit First

We’ve been crying now for much too long
And now we’re gonna dance to a different song
I’m gonna scream and shout til my dying breath
I’m gonna smash it up til there’s nothing left

Oooh ooh smash it up, smash it up, smash it up
Oooh ooh smash it up, smash it up, smash it up

People call me villain, oh its such a shame
Maybe its my clothes, must be to blame
I don’t even care if I look a mess
Don’t wanna be a sucker like all the rest

Oooh ooh smash it up, smash it up, smash it up
Oooh ooh smash it up, smash it up, smash it up

Smash it up
Smash it up
Smash it up
Smash it up
Smash it up

Smash it up, you can keep your krishna burgers
Smash it up, and your Glastonbury hippies
Smash it up, you can stick your frothy lager
Smash it up, and your blow wave hairstyles

And everybody’s smashing things down
I said everybody’s smashing things down yeah

And this is Smash It Up, Part 2. Off the album Machine Gun Etiquette. Love the guitar on this version. It’s out of this world.

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We’re All Gonna Die! Perfect Song for a Pandemic!

One of the greatest songs ever written by one of the greatest bands that ever was.

If you squeeze my lizard
I´ll put my snake on you
I´m a romantic adventure
And I´m a reptile too

But it don´t make no difference
´cuz I ain´t gonna be easy, easy
the only time I´m easy´s when I´m
Killed by death
Killed by death
Killed by death
Killed by death

I´m a lone wolf ligger
But I ain´t no pretty boy
I´m a backbone shiver
and I´m a bundle of joy

But it don´t make no difference
´cuz I ain´t gonna be easy, easy
the only time I´m easy´s when I´m
Killed by death
Killed by death
Killed by death
Killed by death

Killed by death
Killed by death
Killed by death
Killed by death

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The Ronettes, “Be My Baby”

The night we met, I knew I needed you so
And if I had the chance, I’d never let you go
So won’t you say you love me
I’ll make you so proud of me
We’ll make ’em turn their heads every place we go

So won’t you please be my, be my baby
Be my little baby, my one and only baby
Say you’ll be my darlin’, be my, be my baby
Be my baby now, my one and only baby
Wha oh oh oh

I’ll make you happy baby, just wait and see
For every kiss you give me, I’ll give you three
Oh since the day I saw you
I have been waiting for you
You know I will adore you ’til eternity

So won’t you please be my, be my baby
Be my little baby, my one and only baby
Say you’ll be my darlin’, be my, be my baby
Be my baby now, my one and only baby
Wha oh oh oh oh

So come on and please be my, be my baby
Be my little baby, my one and only baby
Say you’ll be my darlin’, be my, be my baby
Be my baby now, my one and only baby
Wha oh oh oh

Be my, be my baby, be my little baby
My one and only baby, oh oh
Be my, be my baby, oh
My one and only baby, wha oh oh oh oh

Be my, be my baby, oh
My one and only baby, oh
Be my, be my baby, oh
Be my baby now

From 1963! Sometimes I think this song is better than either of the previous two. I had no idea they were making such great music in 1963 for Chrissake.

From the complete psycho but legendary genius Phil Spector. He was always nuts. He was even nuts back in the 60’s. People hated working for him because he was so crazy and unstable. And he’d been into guns for a long time before his bizarre murder conviction in 2009.

He treated Ronnie Spector like complete crap and almost ruined her life. He did weird sexual things with his sons like forcing them to simulate sex acts on his girlfriend. They’re probably screwed up by this idiot too.

In 2009 he shot a woman dead in his mansion for no apparent reason. But he’d had a habit of pulling guns on women for some time. I hate to say it, but I really think that men like Phil Spector hate women. If you love women, why would you pull guns on them all the time?

How many times have I told you that artists are crazy? And the real geniuses are often the craziest of them all.

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Roy Orbison, “Crying”

I was all right for awhile
I could smile for awhile
But I saw you last night
You held my hand so tight
As you stopped to say, “Hello”

Oh, you wished me well
You, you couldn’t tell
That I’d been crying over you
Crying over you

When you said, “So long”
Left me standing all alone
Alone and crying, crying
Crying, crying

It’s hard to understand
But the touch of your hand
Can start me crying

I thought that I was over you
But it’s true, so true
I love you even more
Than I did before

But, darling, what can I do?
For you don’t love me
And I’ll always be crying over you
Crying over you

Yes, now you’re gone
And from this moment on
I’ll be crying, crying
Crying, crying
Yeah, crying, crying
Over you

Another great song from the exact same year, 1961, as the previous one from Elvis. 58 years ago! And this one is incredibly great too. I had no idea they were making such great pop music in nineteen fucking sixty-one! Damn! From the legendary, never to be defeated, one and only, Roy Orbison!

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Alt Left: Elvis Presley, “Can’t Help Falling in Love”

Wise men say
Only fools rush in
But I can’t help falling in love with you

Shall I stay?
Would it be a sin
If I can’t help falling in love with you?

Like a river flows
Surely to the sea
Darling, so it goes
Some things are meant to be

Take my hand
Take my whole life, too
For I can’t help falling in love with you

Like a river flows
Surely to the sea
Darling, so it goes
Some things are meant to be

Take my hand,
Take my whole life, too
For I can’t help falling in love with you
For I can’t help falling in love with you

I can’t believe how perfect this song is. They didn’t call him The King for nothing. I also can’t believe this song is from all the way back in 1961! I was four years old then. My Mom was 39 when this song came out. She always hated Elvis and all rock and roll for that matter. His first music was in 1954, so she would have been 22 then. It’s odd that she didn’t find popular music good at age 22.

However, Elvis was an immensely divisive character when he first came out. He swung his hips in a sexual way. They said he was making “Black music” or I guess more appropriately “nigger music.” Black music was seen as immoral, base, vulgar, obscene and obsessed with sex. Whites were supposed to be above all of that.

And in that sense, Elvis was probably one of the first true wiggers. Well God bless him.

I assume my Mom was on the side of the good White girls” who were upset by Elvis rude and dirty music. Probably only a slut or a poor or working class person would like a song like that.

My Mom actually grew up rich. She literally lived in a mansion! Her class of upper, upper middle, and middle class White women very much looked down on Black and Hispanic women and working class and poor White women, as they were thought to not be able to control themselves and they basically acted like disgusting women and whores.

  • No woman in my Mom’s circle would pick a fight with her husband.
  • None would attack his masculinity.
  • It was quite rare that my mother raised her voice at my father.

Good, White, classy wives didn’t do that low class, niggerish stuff. The worst thing you could act like in my Mom’s generation was a “woman of the streets.” And that’s how my Mom’s circle of women saw loudmouthed, obnoxious, combative, screechy, rude, disrespectful, husband-fighting Black, Brown and low and working class White women.

A proper woman was supposed to control herself and in general these types of women were “out of control” and “women of the streets (whores).” Somewhat disgusting, low class women (no matter their income) who couldn’t control themselves and respect their husbands like decent and proper classy White wives.

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Michael Jackson – Part of a New Race of Humans?

Polar Bear: MJ eventually became raceless. Many people of every race and gender start to look like him after too much plastic surgery. Should’ve kept his natural black face IMO. Not sure how he triumphed over White men. I can maybe how he did it with White boys, though at least one accuser lied. He was more into being “human” than Black or White in any case.

I actually felt this way myself and I believe I even remarked on it. And this was way back in the day before I was, um, racially aware, race-wise, or race realist. I think I said:

Michael Jackson isn’t part of any race anymore. He’s not really Black and he’s not really White.

And the people I said it to all nodded their heads and laughed. This was before this latest ultra-radical brand of PC/SJW BS and you could say stuff like that without people freaking out and calling you racist or trying to shut down the conversation.

I think instead of forming his own race though as the title said, MJ simply became as Polar Bear implies, “raceless.” That’s kind of a neat word, “raceless.” I rather like it. But the SJW’s will insist that people always have a race, except for White people since our race doesn’t exist while everyone else’s does ha ha.

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Paul McCartney, “Too Many People”

Paul McCartney, “Too Many People” from Ram (1971). This was his second solo album. It was seriously panned when it first came out but it has subsequently undergone a reassessment along with a lot of his solo material and it is more appreciated nowadays. I must say that Paul’s guitar solo on there is one for the ages. I would even call it timeless, at the risk of pretension.

A very nice song. This song was an attack on John Lennon. Lennon followed it with, “How Do You Sleep?”, an attack on Paul. Paul responded later on the Wings album Wild Life with “Dear Friend,” a peace offering to John.

The feud between Paul and John broke up the band. Two huge egos. Furthermore, this is little known, but John was probably a pathological narcissist. Yoko was a lot saner. He was a great artist but he wasn’t the most wonderful human being.

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A Lot of Artists Are Crazy or Terrible People, But That’s Not Important

The thing is though that many artists of all types are crazy  to one degree or another. Trust me, I have spent a fair portion of my life intensely hanging around large groups of artists, writers, and musicians, and most of them are nuts in one way or another.

Actually they’re all crazy in different ways, but they’re still all crazy.

Writers and tend to be quite self-destructive. A lot are depressives and boy do they drink. They’re introverted but not as introverted as the poets or especially the artists.

Artists are just very shy and neurotic. A lot are depressives. An artist party is 100 people in a house and no one is talking to anyone because they’re all too shy. It’s actually pretty funny. I went to a number of them.

Musicians are very self-destructive, but they’re not neurotic at all – more like wild and crazy extroverts. Some musicians are depressives, but that aspect of them tends to be more hidden behind the wild partying exterior. Still, musicians often seem to be battling deep pain. They love to drink and hey, don’t forget the dope! Musicians and drugs are like peanut butter and jelly.

Poets are way crazy, totally neurotic or worse, manic-depressive or more commonly just depressive, plus a lot of them really drink hard. I’d say the poets are the nuttiest of them all. Are you sort of a weird, offbeat, neurotic, introverted person who doesn’t fit in anywhere and is rejected by most Normies? Head on over to your local poetry reading. You’ll be right in style there. Most of them are just as nuts as you are. Don’t feel bad.

Furthermore, many artist types are  lousy to terrible people.

Shakespeare was a monster as a human being. But that’s not what we remember him and the others for. It doesn’t matter that Shakespeare was a mean old miser.

All that matters is that he was probably the greatest writer of English prose in history, probably still unsurpassed to this very day. That’s all that matters. Artists stand on their art, the only thing that lasts. That they may have been crappy people is lamentable, but it that’s not why we remember them and ultimately it’s simply not important.

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Paul McCartney, “Every Night”

Paul McCartney, “Every Night,” from the album, McCarthy (1970). This was off of his very first solo album. I remember seeing this album on the store shelves, but I wasn’t into rock music when this came out. “Maybe I’m Amazed” is on here too. Another great, classic song. I never even knew what this song was called or even knew it very well until I started hearing it a lot lately. I can’t believe I missed this song.

The album itself was widely panned but it has gained a bit more respect in later years. The entire album is characterized by effortless simplicity. That was the source of both the original critique of and subsequent praise for the album.

The lyrics are quietly, effortlessly simple also. They’re also quite perfect.

Every night I just want to go out
Get out of my head
Every day I don’t want to get up
Get out of my bed
Every night I want to play out
And every day I want to do

Ooh ooh oh oh
But tonight I just want to stay in

And be with you
And be with you
Ooh…
Ooh…
Believe me mama

Every day I lean on a lamp post
I’m wasting my time
Every day I lay on a pillow
I’m resting my mind
Every morning brings a new day
Every night that day is through
Ooh ooh oh oh
But tonight I just want to stay in

And be with you
And be with you
Ooh…
Ooh…
Believe me mama ooh…
Ooh…

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Derek and the Dominos, “Layla”

A great song from 1970. Derek and the Dominos was Eric Clapton’s band after Cream broke up. This is one of the all time great rock and roll songs of all time. If you don’t like this song, I dunno. Something is wrong, sorry.

The lyrics mean nothing at all, of course. Not that it matters. Listen to that guitar singing away, wailing in the wind, soaring to the heavens, whistling in the canyons, screeching in the sky, wistful reminiscing about days gone by never to return but in a memory, moaning with joy, cheering with agony.

It’s midnight and all the people have left their homes. There they are, in their bathrobes and nightclothes. They’re all here in the streets. And they’re all singing, the same tune, in perfect harmony, in the full moon, at the precise moment of the solstice.

The city itself, the towers, the plunging canyons formed by the high rises, the dank alleys, the traffic that never stops…seems to sway to the beat. If you stand very still and look very closely, you can almost see the towers seem to move, ever so slightly, to the beat of the music in the streets. Or is it all a dream?

That guitar is a musical chorus right there, as good as 20 humans singing in tandem. That piano is pretty damn killer, too. Adds some nice pathos towards the end.

What’ll you do when you get lonely
And nobody’s waiting by your side?
You’ve been running and hiding much too long
You know it’s just your foolish pride
Layla, you’ve got me on my knees
Layla, I’m begging, darling please
Layla, darling won’t you ease my worried mind
I tried to give you consolation
When your old man had let you down
Like a fool, I fell in love with you
You turned my whole world upside down
Layla, you’ve got me on my knees
Layla, I’m begging, darling please
Layla, darling won’t you ease my worried mind
Make the best of the situation
Before I finally go insane
Please don’t say we’ll never find a way
And tell me all my love’s in vain
Layla, you’ve got me on my knees
Layla, I’m begging, darling please
Layla, darling won’t you ease my worried mind
Layla, you’ve got me on my knees
Layla, I’m begging, darling please
Layla, darling won’t you ease my worried mind

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Grand Funk Railroad, “We’re An American Band”

“We’re an American Band,” by Grand Funk Railroad, from the album of the same name, 1973.

The album originally came in this bright gold color and it had exactly this inscription on it. From 46 years ago. I’m telling you. They made some really great music in the early 1970’s. If you can’t rock along to this song, I dunno. I think there’s something wrong with you, man, sorry.

Here’s the lyrics. Not exactly the finest intellectual achievement, but so what? What are they singing about here? What they are singing about here is what life is really all about, dammit. Screw everything else! This is life, and literally nothing else is important, dammit!

“Connie” is a legendary rock and roll groupie. I forget her real name. I think she wrote an autobiography. And as a matter of fact, she was indeed out of Little Rock, Arkansas if I am not mistaken. She was truly a legend.

I never had any idea what the lyrics to this song actually were until I copied them into this post. Goes to show you that lyrics don’t even really matter in great rock and roll. Who cares what the words mean! That’s not what it’s all about. It’s about the rhythm, man, the beat, dammit. That animal energy. That’s the cake. The lyrics are just some bullshit decoration you spray on the cake after you already made it. You dig?

Out on the road for forty days
Last night in Little Rock put me in a haze
Sweet, sweet Connie, doin’ her act
She had the whole show and that’s a natural fact
Up all night with Freddie King
I got to tell you, poker’s his thing
Booze and ladies, keep me right
As long as we can make it to the show tonight

We’re an American band
We’re an American band
We’re comin’ to your town
We’ll help you party it down
We’re an American band

Four young chiquitas in Omaha
Waitin’ for the band to return from the show
Feelin’ good, feelin’ right, it’s Saturday night
The hotel detective, he was outta sight
Now these fine ladies, they had a plan
They was out to meet the boys in the band
They said, “Come on dudes, let’s get it on”
And we proceeded to tear that hotel down

We’re an American band
We’re an American band
We’re comin’ to your town
We’ll help you party it down
We’re an American band

We’re an American band
We’re an American band
We’re comin’ to your town
We’ll help you party it down
We’re an American band

We’re an American band
We’re an American band
We’re comin’ to your town
We’ll help you party it down
We’re an American band

We’re an American band
We’re an American band
We’re comin’ to your town
We’ll help you party it down
We’re an American band

We’re an American band, wooo
We’re an American band, wooo
We’re an American band, wooo

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Alt Left: None of Us Are Dindus: Ronald Biggs and the Sex Pistols, “No One Is Innocent”

I was thinking about Mithridates’ response to the Chmielnicki thread, which tragically implied that most if not all of the Jews killed in the peasant revolts of Eastern Europe pretty much had it coming for acting as tax farmers for the nobles and hence perfectly appropriate targets for an peasant revolt against feudalism. Sure, leave the Jewish women, kids, and old men out of it – except who ever does that in a war, especially 350 years go.

Anyway this made me feel very bad. Those Jews were killed in terrible ways and all my life I’ve been told that the Jews of Europe were dindus who dindu nuffin and just got picked on by mean Gentile antisemite Nazis. Turns out a lot of them asked for their own brutal fate. But that doesn’t make me happy. It makes me so sad. I don’t know but it just does.

And the first thing I thought is fuck this dindu crap. Fuck this we dindu nuffin shit.

What I mean by screw this dindu crap is: Goddamn it, none of us are dindus! You know how many of us dindu nuffins! Zero fucking percent, that’s how many!

Which reminds me of a song by the Sex Pistols. A man named Ronald Biggs helped participate in the Great Train Robbery in the UK in 1964. He hightailed it to Brazil. Brazil has no extradition treaty with the UK, so he’s been living it up down there laughing at the world and giving us all the finger the whole time. Well, good on him. I might do the same.

The Great Train Robbery? They stole lots and lots of money, so good on them. They became something of these Robin Hood type folk criminals, though if you research the case, they’re just dirty psychopaths and criminal scums as you might expect.

And though I wanted to love the romantic story myself because I’m kind of an asshole who hates all authority figures, when I read about it, I thought again. A man defending the money stash on the train was not killed, but he was very badly hurt. Maybe for a long time. Well, screw that. I’m not going to cheer on the Great Train Robbery anymore, thank you very much.

Also I read up on Biggs’ life down in Brazil, and of course, being a psychopath, he lived the typical life of a total psychopath down there in Brazil. Duh. And keep in mind this is Brazil, where psychopathy is virtually normal. He acted real bad down there, got into constant trouble, and was basically a huge dick. Which logically follows of course from him being a psychopath. Because, you know, psychopaths gotta psycho. It’s what they do.

Well, the Sex Pistols, after the first album, decided, just to be total assholes, which we already knew they were anyway, to go down to Brazil and record a song with Ronald Biggs. Biggs recorded a song with them called “No One Is Innocent.” Which is the fitting coda to this silly blog post in which I point out that none of us are dindus, even though we all think we are:

Fuck it, man! No one is innocent! We’re all guilty, dammit!

Which is awful damn Christian, now that you think about it, no?

God save the sex pistols they’re a bunch of wholesome blokes
They just like wearing filthy clothes and swapping filthy jokes
God save television keep the programs pure
God save William Grundy from falling in manure

Ronnie Biggs was doing time until he done a bunk
Now he says he’s seen the light and he sold his soul to punk

God save Martin Boorman and Nazis on the run
They wasn’t being wicked God that was their idea of fun
God save Myra Hindley God save Ian Brady
Even though he’s horrible and she ain’t what you call a lady

Ronnie Biggs was doing time until he done a bunk
Now he says he’s seen the light and he sold his soul to punk
Ronnie Biggs was doing time until he done a bunk
Now he says he’s seen the light and he sold his soul to punk

God save politicians God save our friends the pigs
God save Idi Amin and god save Ronald Biggs
God save all us sinners God save your blackest sheep
God save the good Samaritan and God save the worthless creep

Ronnie Biggs was doing time until he done a bunk
Now he says he’s seen the light and he sold his soul to punk
Ronnie Biggs was doing time until he done a bunk
Now he says he’s seen the light and he sold his soul to punk
Sold his soul Sold his soul Sold his soul to punk

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The Doors, “The End” Live at Isle of Wight Festival

The Doors, “The End,” at the Isle of Wight Festival in the UK, 1970. From the album, Live at The Isle of Wight Festival 1970, not released until 2018, believe it or not!

Of course this is one of the greatest songs ever written, that’s obvious to anyone who’s ever heard it. This is the live version. I usually don’t like live versions better than album versions, but I’m familiar with the album version very well, and this live version was something special. He’s making a lot of stuff up here and there’s a lot of improvisational jamming but if ever a chaotic song was written about the beauty of chaos and entropy, this is it.

So this live version is really something special. I’ve heard this was a great concert, sort of the British version of Woodstock. Don’t know anyone who was there, though. The hippie movement was pretty big in the UK too, by the way.

It wasn’t just a US phenomenon. It was happening all over the most of the West to the best of my understanding. There were absolutely hippies in France, Sweden, and especially Denmark and Germany. Much of the rest of Europe was part of the Eastern Bloc, and they were not friendly to the movement.

Outside of the West, I’m not sure how big the movement was, but I suppose one can argue that some places in the world are just naturally “hippie,” so to speak. Aspects of Indian, Nepalese, and Moroccan culture absolutely come to mind.

The Beats headed to Tangier in Morocco, and India and Nepal were flooded with hippies in search of enlightenment and paradise. In a way, these were precisely the places to go. For when the hippies went to India and Nepal (or Afghanistan for that matter), after all, they were only going home again, to the Subcontinent, where the roots of the movement were birthed long ago.

There were definitely hippies in Peru in the 1970’s though, I can tell you that much. And no doubt in other parts of Latin America.

If anyone has any anecdotes about the hippie movement outside the West, let me know in the comments.

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Joan Baez, “Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands”

Joan Baez, “Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands” from Any Day Now: Songs for Bob Dylan, 1968.

Wow, I have heard this song title and I think I have heard of the song. It’s on one of his albums, but I’m not sure if I’ve ever heard it. This is definitely the first time I’ve ever heard the Baez cover. Dylan wrote the song for the woman he started dating after he broke up with Joan, which makes it particularly odd that she’s singing it here: a love song for the new girlfriend of her ex after she broke up with her ex.

Bob Dylan and Joan Baez made quite a couple. They were perfect together and perfect for each other. This was in the middle of the hippie era, which Dylan and Baez both embraced.

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Paul McCartney and Wings, “Beware My Love”

Great song from Paul McCartney and Wings, “Beware My Love”, Wings at the Speed of Sound, 1975.

This came after Band on the Run, one of the greatest albums of the 20th Century. McCartney’s solo career started out pretty well. Linda sang along with him, and he soon got an excellent band together called Wings. Most of the first 4-5 albums from 1970-1975 were excellent. Nobody talks about them anymore, but at the time, Paul McCartney and the Wings were one of the most popular bands in rock and roll.

I vaguely remember this song from back in the old days. I heard it again recently and checked out. Sure enough, it’s awesome.

Can’t say I’ve found out
I can’t tell you
What it’s all about
Don’t know who does
Tell you to

Beware my love
Beware my love
Beware my love
Beware my love
Beware my love
Beware my love

Oh, oh, oh
No, no, no
I must be wrong, baby, yeah

But I don’t believe
That he’s the one
But you insist
I must be wrong
I must be wrong

I have to leave
And when I’m gone
I’ll leave my message
In my song
That’s right

Beware my love
Well, he’ll bowl you over
Beware my love
Before you’re much older

Hey, he’ll sweep you up
Under his carpet
You’d be in luck
If you could stop it

Come on now
Beware my love

Let me tell you

Well, he’ll wear you out
And in a minute
You’ll hear a shout
And then you’ll be in it

So, so now beware my love
‘Cause he’ll take you under
Beware my love
The sound of his thunder
Yeah!

I don’t believe
That he’s the one
But if you insist
I must be wrong
I must be wrong

But I have to leave
And when I’m gone
I’ll leave my message
In my song
That’s where I’m gonna leave it, baby

Come on

Beware my love
Don’t you know
He’ll bowl you over
Beware my love
Before you’re much older

He’s gonna
Yeah, he’s gonna wear you out
When in a minute
You’ll hear a shout
And then you’ll be in it

Baby gonna be there
Yeah, beware
Yeah, I’ll be there
Oh baby, beware
Beware, beware, my love
Yeah, any minute, oh

I don’t know
If I can stand it anymore
‘Cause I’m just gonna say to you
My love, that you better be there

Can’t say
I’ve found out
I tell you to
Beware my love
Beware my love

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“Tonight the Bottle Let Me Down”, Gram Parsons and the Flying Burrito Brothers

“Tonight the Bottle Let Me Down”, Gram Parsons and the Flying Burrito Brothers. Another cover of, yep, a Merle Haggard song, from, once again, Sleepless Nights, 1977. Go back a couple of posts to see the rundown on this album and the sessions in early 1970 that made it up.

I’m a bit of a bottle fan myself I suppose. I take that bottle of hard stuff and cradle it in my arms like a baby. And it calms me down like a babe in arms, just like that. Life’s not easy. Sometimes we need a little help to make it through without grabbing a gun or a handful of pills and buying it ourselves before our time. Better to sip slow, watch the pain fade out, and let nature take it’s cruel course.

And in case you are wondering, yes, I sleep very well at night. A polygraph examiner told me that once after I finished the test. He said, “I think you sleep well at night, don’t you?”

“Yep,” I said. No regrets.

I suppose if someone asks you what the most important thing in life is, you could always say, “To sleep well at night.” To behave well enough that you don’t have much to feel sorry for, or if you don’t, to forgive yourself for whatever transgressions you stumbled into on your way down the road.

Do you sleep well at night? I hope you all do. It’s so important. There are few things worse than insomnia and ill sleep. Pure torture.

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Flying Burrito Brothers, “To Love Somebody”

Great song. “To Love Somebody” Gram Parsons and the Flying Burrito Brothers, Close Up the Honky-Tonks, 1973. Recorded during the Gram Parsons era, 1969-1970, but it was not released until after his so untimely death.

They took him away from us. Stole him away. Away in the night.

In the desert night, with a full moon, with the coyotes howling, the gorgeous hippie girl he had just met for the first and last time in the  lobby, a mere waif of a woman, carefully, even reverently, sank the morphine needle into his vein. Gram Parsons looked out the window of the hotel room, five double Tequilas already under his belt, and saw a sky full of stars.

The Joshua trees outside seemed to be swaying to some strange music only the desert knows. God closed the chapter of this gorgeous book of a man that night.

Just before he blinked out, Gram looked out the window at the sky in a morphine and Tequila haze. It had been so covered with stars that it was nearly white as snow. But now there was not a star in sight, nothing but black ink all around. Gram, a son of God if there ever was one, nodded his head and closed his eyes for the last time in his life.

They say sometimes if you go to a certain spot in Joshua Tree National Park at night with no one around at a certain time of year and the weather is just right, and you are just high enough on whatever you can get your hands on, as you dissociate in the cold still night, you can barely hear, off in the distance amidst the howling coyotes, the sound of Gram Parsons’ guitar and wailing voice.

They took him away but he’s also still with us. For now, maybe forever.

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Flying Burrito Brothers, “Sing It Back Home”

Flying  Burrito Brothers, “Sing It Back Home”on Sleepless Nights, 1977.

Gram Parsons and the Flying Burritos covering Merle Haggard’s great song. This song was recorded in early 1970 when Gram Parsons was still with the band. The songs on this album were intended to be released for a new album that never got released. Actually these songs were considered to be simple studio dabblings that were never intended for any finished product release.

The Flying Burrito Brothers were one of the greatest bands of the 20th Century, but almost no one has ever heard of them. Their first two albums featured the great Gram Parsons. After that, they fired him and he went on to issue a couple of solo albums before he OD’d on morphine in Joshua Tree National Park in 1973. Dead to soon.

Why do all the best ones leave us too soon? It’s almost as if they are doomed to die young – flash bright like a shooting star and then burn out before 30. What happens? Do they burn too fast? Too fast for life?

A lot of artists are nuts. That’s part of the problem. Art is all tied up in various forms of insanity and lots of artists are crazy in all sorts of ways, in particularly, self-destruction.

No one quite knows why this is, but being an artist is the ultimate anti-Normie act. The artist is giving the finger to the Normie world every minute he is alive and producing great art. He’s a permanent outsider. An outsider’s life is painful, and many artists live lives of intense pain. Perhaps the pain is necessary to produce great art. If we were all perma-happy Pollyanna Normies, what sort of great art would we produce? Anything.

Anyway, life is painful. And it’s not easy. You would think that life would be quite simple, but it’s not. In part this is because we are not completely rational. If I were completely rational, my life would be a lot easier, but instead I’m fucked in the head, so life is a bit of a chore. A happy chore but a chore nevertheless.

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