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Adam West

Posted by purplemary54 on June 10, 2017

When I saw the news that TV’s favorite Batman Adam West had passed today, I was sadder than I thought I would be.  The 1960s television version of Batman is often ridiculed for its cartoonish action, ham-handed moralizing, and general silliness.  People of my generation grew up on this version, but we were indoctrinated into the Dark Knight school of Batman characterization in the 80s and 90s; our then-teenaged psyches found more to love in the troubled, vengeful version that is so ubiquitous today than we did in the brightly-colored uprightness of our childhoods.  But Adam West’s portrayal of Batman as a decent man who fought crime because it was the right thing to do became a pop culture touchstone, and made West an icon.

Adam West did a lot of other acting besides Batman, but that character is what he will be most remembered for.  One of the things I loved is how he embraced it and how he in turn used it as a base for much of his recent work.  West did voice acting for a number of cartoons, and he used the same cadences and phrasings he did as Batman.  It made him easily recognizable and, I think, brought a lot of warm feelings to those who remembered that voice from Saturdays in front of the TV.

So I bid a fond farewell to West with the Batman theme, a tune almost as iconic as his portrayal of the Caped Crusader.  Composed by jazzman Neal Hefti, the catchy “na na na na na na na na” riff runs throughout and is really what makes it such an effective ear worm.  (Seriously.  Try to get it out of your head.  I dare you.)  Because this version of Batman relied so heavily on the comic book version of the character that was popular at the time, this is exactly the kind of music you’d expect to hear if a comic book could play music when you opened it.  With its jazzy and surf undertones, it was perfect.

So long, Mr. West.  Thank you for bringing so much happiness to so many people.

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“(Don’t Fear) The Reaper”

Posted by purplemary54 on June 1, 2017

A recent post describes my relatively reasonable fear of death (“reasonable” being the key word here; I have lots of other far less reasonable fears).  What I didn’t really get into was my obsession with it.  For the last year and half, from the second I saw news of David Bowie’s death to hearing of Gregg Allman’s passing just a few days ago, I have been compulsively worried that musicians I like are going to suddenly drop dead.  (I really should’ve known 2016 was going to suck in terms of pop culture passings when New Year’s Day that year brought the news that Natalie Cole had died the night before.  That’s never a good way to start off a year.)  I check the news multiple times a day, just in case.  I imagine how I might feel if [insert name of iconic musician here] passed.  I wonder idly about which songs I should use for my obituary post, and how many posts commemorating that person there ought to be; depending on their fame, influence, and place in my heart it could be a lot.  Right now, I’m just a tiny bit worried that my even musing about this topic will bring some kind of karmic retribution down on whichever poor bastard happens to be next on the Universe’s hit list.

I am aware that this is not entirely healthy.

I wish I could be as sanguine about death as this song.  I wish I could be accepting of it as the Buddha says.  It’s natural and inevitable; we are transitory beings, blah, blah, blah.  “Seasons don’t fear the reaper, nor do the wind, the sun, or the rain.  We can be like they are.”  Blah, blah, blah.  It might be a natural transition, but it’s still a pretty fucking scary one.  The final great unknown.  I hate not knowing things.  I also hate not having control over things, and death is one of the many, many things entirely outside my control.

Of course, I have a lot of recent personal experience with death.  It’s been four years since Daddy shuffled off the mortal coil.  Mom’s illness has once again raised the specter in my house.  My cousin the roadie recently got just a little bit too close to death when the Manchester Arena was bombed right after the Ariana Grande concert (he was on the crew, who were all safe).  Other family members have passed recently.  Cats have passed recently.  I know I’m getting older and so is everyone I love; I just wish I wasn’t so anxious about it all.  My worried little hamster wheel of a brain has been working overtime on this one.

One death that hit me unexpectedly hard was the recent passing of Robert M. Pirsig.  Who the hell was that, you ask?  Just the man who wrote the Book That Changed My Life, aka Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.  Sure, I hadn’t known he was even still alive, which is one of the things that made his death so unexpected.  But as I read the obituary in the paper, I felt gutted.  For a few minutes, I felt like I did when my dad passed.  It was that painful.  I celebrated his life by rereading Zen again, which made me feel a little better.

I think maybe I’d feel even a little bit better if I knew that there was some sort of personification of death who came to collect you when it was time.  Not Robert Redford in that episode of The Twilight Zone (“Nothing in the Dark”; you can find it on YouTube).  I’d much prefer the Death from Terry Pratchett’s books.  He’s very matter of fact, but still quite compassionate.  Plus, he has a sense of humor and rides a horse named Binky.  What’s not to love?

There’s really nothing I can do but live with it, no pun intended.  When Pirsig passed, I told myself I had to sit with that grief for a few minutes and I did. I know when the next person or pet I love moves on, I’ll cry and sit with that grief, too.  I have to.  As John Donne said, “any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

Nobody said the bell couldn’t be a cowbell.

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Who Am I?–Replacements Edition

Posted by purplemary54 on May 28, 2017

Some time ago, I posted the first in an irregular series of songs I think describe me, or at least the me I think I am anyway.  Here’s another one.  I’ve made my adoration of the Replacements well known; I’ve stated that I think Paul Westerberg is the true voice of my generation.  So it makes perfect sense that I would see myself in his songs.

I consider myself a creative, artistic person.  I also know I don’t fit into the box labeled “middle class female” very well.  I’m an oddball.  I like being alone, and I abhor most of the things the majority of people claim to enjoy (physical activity, cilantro, and the smell of vanilla candles are just a few examples).  I didn’t get married or have children.  I went to college for an education, not a degree.  I don’t drive.  If I was rich I’d be allowed to be eccentric, but since I’m not rich I’m just a weirdo.  A misfit.

Which makes the Replacements’ “Achin’ to Be” an ideal song for me.  Of course, it’s also the ideal song for every creative, artistic misfit girl out there.  And while I do see myself in that song, if I’m totally honest, I think I live more in the world of “Merry Go Round.”

It’s not just that the title features a homophone of my name, although I freely admit to being drawn to songs with my name in them.  There’s just more of me in the feeling and tone of this song.  It’s the chorus that really gets me:  “Merry go round in dreams.  Writes them down, it seems that when she sleeps she’s free.  Merry go round in dreams.”  I do feel free in my dreams; I imagine most people do.  And I write down dreams, just like I write down random thoughts and song lyrics and ideas.  I try to turn all of it into poems and stories–not always successfully but I try.  There’s also an edge to this song that “Achin’ to Be” doesn’t have.  That song is more melancholy.  “Merry Go Round” is kind of pissed off.  Kind of like me.  I’m angry.  A lot.  And you can hear that in this song.  You can also here an isolation, like the characters of the song aren’t just lonely, they are genuinely left out.  I’ve felt left out most of my life.  I’m not just a misfit; I’m an outsider.  People forget about me.  People don’t tell me things on a regular basis.  I’m not physically invisible, but I might as well be.  Some of that is my own doing, some of it isn’t.  And I can feel the pain of being excluded in this song.  But I also feel the empowerment of defiance here.  Sure, these characters are left out.  But they decided that if the rest of the world can’t be bothered to see them, then the rest of the world can go jump in a lake.  “But the trouble doll hears your heart pound, and your feet they say goodbye to the ground.”  There is something to be said for marching to the beat of your own accordion.  While I sometimes get frustrated and feel lonely, I don’t feel dishonest.  That’s important to me.  And it’s one of the reasons why I love this song so much.

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Gregg Allman

Posted by purplemary54 on May 27, 2017

In yet another blow to Rock & Roll, Gregg Allman has passed from this plane at 69.  He had a long career but he was at his best as the singer and organist for the Allman Brothers Band.  They were blues and rock and psychedelia rolled into one rollicking package.  While it can be argued that Duane Allman’s mythic guitar had a more lasting impact on music, you can’t say that Gregg didn’t help shape the Allman Brothers’ sound in equally crucial ways.

You also can’t say that Gregg Allman didn’t live the Rock Star persona to the hilt.  He was as hard-living as the characters he sang about, and he paid that price in more ways than one.  Losing Duane and ABB bassist Berry Oakley in eerily similar motorcycle accidents within a year of each other were not only a huge personal losses but ones that changed the sound of the Allman Brothers Band.  His tumultuous marriage to Cher and years of substance abuse made Gregg tabloid fodder.  And those years of drugs and alcohol led directly to the health problems that plagued him in his final years.  He spent much of the last few years playing as often as his body would allow him to.  His voice had grown ragged, but I’m sure the music gave him some measure of peace.

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“Mr. Blue Sky”

Posted by purplemary54 on May 22, 2017

I went to see Guardians of the Galaxy, Vol. 2 last Tuesday, and it was awesome.  Unfortunately, I’ve also had this song stuck in my head since last Tuesday.  So now y’all are gonna suffer along with me.

I couldn’t find a good clip of the opening credits in which Baby Groot is dancing to this song.  But I think seeing Jeff Lynne without his trademark dark glasses is a pretty decent trade off.

Posted in Music, Rock | Tagged: , , , , | 2 Comments »

It’s Finally Here!

Posted by purplemary54 on May 21, 2017

Twin Peaks finally premieres tonight.  I’m so excited I could plotz! (Quick, name the TV show that line comes from.)

I know it won’t be as stunning as the original premiere was; there’s no way to recreate the experience again.  And with so many of the original cast members having moved on from this plane–and so many new characters–it’s bound to be different.  Not to mention the fact that Lynch isn’t going to be constrained by broadcast network standards; he gets to play in the big boy premium cable sandbox.  But I’m hopeful this will be as good as anything else David Lynch has done.  I’m hoping he stays with the psychological mind games bordering that made so many of his films and the original series so intriguing and wonderfully baffling.  But mostly, I’m hoping I get to spend time in that wonderful, weird, eerie town again.  I’ve missed it so.

 

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Chris Cornell

Posted by purplemary54 on May 18, 2017

Fuck.

This is not what I expected to be doing this morning.

I’m going in for my annual mammogram this afternoon.  I’ve got to run a couple errands today.  Maybe a load of laundry.  I checked the news on my phone to see if there were any interesting developments in the Russia investigation.  I did not expect to see that Soundgarden frontman Chris Cornell had passed into the next plane last night in what Rolling Stone’s website is reporting as a “possible suicide.”  Fuck.

Cornell’s voice was a force of nature, which was exactly what a band like Soundgarden needed to become a Rock powerhouse.  He could wail and groan like a hurricane, then drift down to a whisper of a breeze.  He was as relentless and undeniable as the wind.  And I cannot believe he is silenced.  He was only four years older than me.

I was never a Soundgarden superfan, although I always enjoyed listening to them.  My favorite Cornell song is actually “Hunger Strike” from the Temple of the Dog one-off, which was itself a tribute to late Mother Love Bone singer Andrew Wood.  Cornell teamed with the surviving members of that band and some new kid named Eddie to play and sing for a life cut short.  Cornell’s voice meshes perfectly with Eddie Vedder’s.  And the chorus seems like an aptly fitting description of the musical landscape the last couple of years: “I’m going hungry.”

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“America”

Posted by purplemary54 on May 16, 2017

I’ve been so disheartened by what’s happened in this country.  Not the “divisiveness” that everyone on the interwebs is bitching about; we’ve been divided socially, politically, economically, and any other -ally you can think of pretty much since Europeans moved their sanctimonious asses into this country.  Yes, the Native Americans had their wars and disagreements; it wasn’t all some egalitarian paradise.  But there wasn’t a wholesale genocide or systematic demonization of anyone determined by the group in power to be “other” before white folks showed up.  Fucking own it, people.  I like political divisiveness.  I like protest.  I like resistance.  I think they are part of what it means to be a patriotic American.  Remember, boys and girls, the First Amendment also protects the right of the People to criticize their government–or anyone else–without fear of prosecution or persecution.

No, I’ve been disheartened by what the Cheeto has been attempting to do to this country, with varying levels of success.  There are people who say he’s a dictator.  Or a tyrant.  Or that what he really wants is to be emperor.  No.  He thinks the government is just another business and he’s the CEO.  In Trump’s worldview, the president has the right to do pretty much whatever the fuck he wants because it’s his company to run into the dirt.  He’s wrong, of course.  Government is one of the things that should never, ever be run like a business (schools, hospitals, and courtrooms are the others in case you were wondering).  The point is not to turn a profit or run a lean, mean machine.  The point of government is to serve the People, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are a LOT of fucking people in this country and very few of them are identical in every way.  We need a large government because we have a large country with a lot of very diverse needs.  Anyone in favor of a small government should go right ahead and give up public schools, public libraries, fire departments, labor protections, police departments, and any of the other multitude of services the various levels of government provide.  And before someone says, but the cities and states provide most of those things, I wish to point out that especially in rural areas or states without silly things like income taxes, the Federal government is who steps up to fund all the stuff you think is your right to have (which it is, btw).

Have y’all noticed that I’m just the tiniest bit pissed off?  Have I not used a form of “fuck” often enough for that to sink in?  I am angry.  I expected to be basking in the glow of the first woman president at this point.  (For the record, I don’t particularly like Hillary all that much either, but at least she knows how to do the fucking job.)  I was not expecting a cheeto who lacks a brain-to-mouth filter and who thinks dismantling the federal government is a good idea.  What the fuck did he plan on doing?  Outsource all governmental functions to Russia?

Which brings me to the actual reason for tonight’s rant.  Russia.  And all the obvious entanglements it so obviously has with Trump and virtually all his back-biting, slimy, little toadies.  I live in the fucking United States of America, and while I do not subscribe to outdated Cold War prejudices, I do not believe that a foreign government has any fucking say whatsoever in any aspect of the running of MY fucking government.  (Is that enough fucks for y’all, yet?)  It’s all beginning to come to light, just like I knew it would.  I wasn’t certain it would be Russia that brought the Cheeto down, but I knew he’d do something before the end of this year to finally get those spineless dickfaces in Congress to rev up those old Articles of Impeachment.  Hell, they impeached Bubba because he couldn’t keep it zipped–something everyone on both sides of the political divide always knew.  The fact that he liked having sex with women not his wife was the only thing they could nail him for is why he was ultimately acquitted.  It’s not like he was, oh I don’t know, REVEALING STATE INTELLIGENCE TO THE RUSSIANS, or anything like that.  Or firing the FBI director because said director was conducting an investigation into his ties with Russia via his bloodsucking cronies.  Or trying to completely dismantle the fucking federal government.

Yeah, I’m pissed but I’m also feeling kind of optimistic.  Because all the stupid shit that Trump and his minions have been doing is starting to come to light.  I predicted to some friends a month or so ago that by the end of this calendar year the impeachment will either have happened or be in progress.  That doesn’t mean those of us in favor of progressive goals should be smug and sit back.  We need to keep resisting and fighting and shouting our displeasure from the fucking rooftops.  We need to vote with our pocketbooks, email and social media accounts, and especially out ballots.  Don’t whine or complain that nothing you do makes a difference, because when you do nothing then it is a self-fulfilling prophecy.  Democracy is a participation sport, kids.  Capitalism, evil fucking system that it is, works for you when you play by their rules and use money as power.  No political system was EVER changed from the outside.

So why did I choose this particular song from Simon and Garfunkel to punctuate my ravings?  “America” is such a quiet tune, beautiful and sad.  Disaffected.  Disenfranchised.  The characters in this song are disconnected from each other, from their society, from themselves.  From their country.  Do not be these people.  This is your fucking country.  Take it back from the bastards.  Declare at the top of your lungs, “I’ve come to look for America.”  And you sons of bitches better not have sold it to Russia.

Posted in Music, Rock, Singer-Songwriters | Tagged: , , , | 2 Comments »

“Please Don’t Bury Me”

Posted by purplemary54 on April 19, 2017

I memorialize a lot of musicians and other pop culture figures here.  I do it because I think it’s important to note their passing into the next plane.  I also do it because, like most living people, death scares me.  It’s a natural fear, although one uniquely human.  I’m pretty sure mole rats don’t sit around in their burrows obsessing over the inevitability of their deaths; they’re probably too busy hunting for food or making baby mole rats.  It makes me wonder if our big brains and the commensurate level of self-awareness are really worth it.

What this boils down to is that I take death pretty seriously.  I hurt a little for everyone who is left behind when someone they love passes.  (The person who died is actually okay at that point; whatever fear, pain, or suffering they experienced while alive is gone.)  I grieve along with them.  I also grieve for all those I’ve loved who are no longer here, people and animals alike.  (We lost a beloved kitty just a few days ago, and I can’t tell you how much Mom and I miss her.)  It all adds up to a lot of heartache.  Sometimes it is easier, sometimes it’s better, but it never really leaves you.  But suffering over that pain is a choice.  And while I feel that pain and grief, I don’t wish it gone.  I don’t revel in it, but I try to accept those emotions and feel them.  It’s okay to hurt; just don’t make it the only thing you feel.

Which leads me back to today’s song.  My extended family recently became a little smaller in number and a lot less fun.  My mother’s cousin, Mike Foster, died several weeks ago.  It is still a raw wound, but I know that he’s not really gone from the Universe.  (Mike and his family are Christian, but I don’t think my beliefs conflict too much with their vision of heaven.)  He’s not here physically and that’s what hurts, but his energy is still part of everything else.  Mike was generous and open and loving with everyone.  And, like my much missed Daddy, he never met a corny joke he didn’t tell to everyone within hearing distance.  Mike had a wonderful sense of humor, even if it did make you groan occasionally. For whatever reason, his passing made me think of this wonderful old John Prine song.  (I know I’ve probably posted this one before, but I’m too lazy to look it up right now.)  I know Mike wouldn’t want people to be sad about his death.  He’d want them to celebrate his life and have a good laugh in his honor.  And for people like me who take death a little too seriously, this is a great antidote for that.

Have fun in the next plane, Mike.  Love you.

Posted in Music, Obituaries, Singer-Songwriters | Tagged: , , , , | 2 Comments »

Chuck Berry

Posted by purplemary54 on March 18, 2017

I’ve got two or three other posts I’m working on right now, one of them a much more personal remembrance, but this news today has to come first.  Dammit.

The passing of Chuck Berry at age 90 isn’t really a surprise; his health had been slowly failing for years.  But it is sad to see one of the original Rock & Roll greats leave us.  Even though I now concede Elvis Presley’s undeniable talent and status as the King, for many years I argued that Berry was the true King of Rock & Roll.  He did so much to create and shape the sound so many of us love so much.  He made some of the greatest music I’ve ever heard, and I never get tired of hearing it.  His guitar style was iconic.  His performances were magnetic and charismatic.  Yeah, he was kind of a jerk as a human being (and more than a little problematic for this feminist), but he was a legend.  The world is a slightly poorer place without him.

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