Jeez…..there’s nothing more challenging than following the venerable Mr. Vickers. The wizard of words, the lord of linguistics, the man who requires most of us to have a dictionary, any dictionary, in extremely close proximity, preferably at one’s fingertips (or at least within stretching distance), and has us laughing two sentences in. If you missed it, you’ll find his discourse (or diatribe) here Highly recommended reading!
Rock ‘n’ roll radio. There was nothing like it. It was fresh and exciting and exposed teens to a whole new world beyond their doorsteps. If the fifties had cracked the egg, the sixties had spilled the eggs guts. All over the place. Humpty Dumpty magnified. Omelet City.
Hello everyone. Let’s give a warm welcome to Debbie and Cyndi. Two unique women who dance to their own drummers and whose talents encompass a variety of musical fields in two decidedly different decades. These ladies can pop and rock, disco down or jazz it up, sing the blues, or pour their soul into a ballad. Their many talents run the full gamut and they have led the way for a new kind of woman in music, adding their own twist and turns to rock and roll. Quirky, outrageous, individualistic, sexy, ballsy, entertaining, exuberant, clever, brilliant, artistic and really, really smart.
March 2 was the 10th anniversary of Hunter S. Thompson’s death and a picture of one of his quotes was making the rounds in Facebook. I found the subject matter rather timely! Many of us will find both the truth and the irony in what he had to say.
Ch-ch-ch-cha-changes
I have been slowly getting to know my fellow writers, conversing with them through Facebook, email and over the phone. A what! Yep, a real live telephone. You know, those devices that allow you to actually hear what the other person sounds like while enjoying honest-to-goodness dialogue. Fingers seem to do more walking and mouths less talking these days. We are no longer an oral society. The world of banter, tete-a-tetes and nattering have gone the way of such foods as pineapple upside down cake. (remember those) Mmmmmm……
The impetus, for what has now become a series, was my discovery of an old vinyl record by Maggie Bell. I came across it going through one of my many purge cycles. Suicide Sal, released in 1975, was my introduction to the blues….I just didn’t know it then. I wasn’t in the habit of labeling types of music in my younger years, I just knew what I liked. Greg Simpson, who happened to be managing the now defunct Records on Wheels in London, Ontario, recommended the album, thinking I might like it. I loved it and still do. Thank you Greg!
During a recent conversation on writing and music I was asked if I had ever heard of K-Pop. My answer was “no” although I was tempted to say “of course” me being a music junky and all. I’ve been told I don’t get out enough so I’m working on that. In the meantime…
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 