Living with Lewy Body Dementia
Counting down my 678 vinyl records before I die of brain disease
I’m looking for suggestions as we enter the Halloween season.
I’m just going to start with one song that is big time on my playlist right now. My NP is a Brummies song, and it really has nothing much to do with Halloween other than it’s “Haunted.”
I’m counting down my 678 vinyl records before I die of brain disease.
ALBUMS: Suite for Susan Moore (1969); The Shock of Grace (1981)
MVC Ratings: Suite 3.5/$$$$; Shock 3.5/ $$$$
My vinyl collection of Tim Hardin is not representative of his work. The essential Hardin is caught mostly in his first few 2 albums and also in compilations with those songs from the first two.
I have a compilation of some of his more obscure experimental songs and a key album that fed that compilation. Suite for Susan Moore is as provocative as it is frustrating. Interesting jazzy acoustic guitar is spoiled when Hardin goes on these spoken word jags that sound more dippy than trippy. Too bad because there was clearly interesting music going on.
Allmusic.com has an interesting take on this part of his career: Even the folkier and more upbeat tunes had a casual and distended air: Hardin added to the strangeness by occasionally reciting somber poetry, both unaccompanied and to meandering, jazzy instrumental backing. The drowsy mood, both affectionate and vulnerable, is more important than the message on this haunting album. That means it’s not recommended as the first Hardin recording for neophytes, but it is recommended to those who already like Hardin and are up for something more obtuse than his early records.
His better known songs — which I have somewhere on CD — are well-cover classics and near classics: ‘Reason to Believe;’ ‘If I Were a Carpenter; ‘Lady Came from Baltimore’; How Can you Hang on to a Dream.’ ‘Black Sheep Boy; ‘Misty Roses,’ ‘Don’t Make Promises’ and more. Some of those like ‘Reason’ are classics. (I like Rod Stewart’s version of that song as well as Hardin’s.)
I really like all those listed above except ‘Carpenter’ which just irritated me as it was covered by what seems like every crooner who crooned. Also I can’t listen to it these days because the “would you have my baby’ line reminds me too much of that awful Paul Anka song “Having My Baby.”
On the vinyl I have, as I said, there’s some interesting jazzy-blues work but at this time Hardin was deep into the heroin. The Vietnam veteran of the U.S> Marine Corps. died of an overdose in 1980. He is buried near his hometown of Eugene, Oregon.
I onetime had an idea of doing a book profiling Tim Hardin, Elliott Smith, and Chris Whitley, all pioneering songwriters whose voices were as distinct as their lives were troubled and cut short. Artists whose legacy teeters on the songs that are left behind.
I thought of it when I started taking my youngest, Claire, to school at the University of Oregon in Eugene and upon learning Hardin was from there and Smith was based in Portland. Dunno, bit depressing, but also I thought the three would be interesting case studies, exploring the parallels. Sadly I think I’d start already knowing the parallels: D&D. Drugs and Depression.
Video below shows couple of Hardin’s classics.
(Scene is End of the Line Tavern in the year 2525)
Old Timer: “People say it’s climate warming or global changing or some shit like that. Ha. They been having them for years. The one in 2511 is legend.”
Of course Prosby knew the 2511 storm. Everyone with a well-made Walkie Talkie knows that one. Cat 5 with sustained winds of 220 mph. Turned St. Petersburg into Florida’s Venice.
Forty-foot storm surge dug its own canals.
Old Timer: “Glad I wasn’t down there at the time. You know 678 people died.”
Both men knew that much of Florida is underwater now. There is some dry land in Bithlo, but then you gotta live in Bithlo.
Lightning storms and meth heads made it difficult to venture out in that area of Florida anyway. Refugees from the now underwater Daytona Beach came to occupy Bithlo bringing more drugs upon drugs.
Prosby looked for the bartender, sat in silence for a while and then asked a question of the Old Timer.
“What is it then that storms coming out of nature keep getting bigger and bigger. If not climate change, what is it? God trying to kill us or trying to scare the hell out of us?”
“Don’t be skeered,” Old Timer said. “Just watch the spirals.”
Unconsciously Prosby put my hand on my gas mask, a high end military grade CBRN. Most folks wore them outside and lived in highly filtered airtight homes or apartments. If you didn’t wear one outside, it would only take a month or so before you were coughing up blood.
“Spirals? You mean these hisicanes and hurricanes?”
“No, something bigger,” he said, strapping on his pistol as he made a move for the door.
TO BE CONTINUED…
ALBUM: Jamboree (1986)
MVC Rating: 4.0
‘Fear of God’ off of their third album is the perfect song to show the uninitiated what one key element of the Athens, Ga., music scene sounded like, especially as that sound proceeded to emanate out of Southeastern university towns all through the 1980’s.
Athens, Atlanta, Birmingham, Chapel Hill.
REM and the B-52’s were the most successful purveyors of the scene if not the sound. REM created a new sound with the jangly Byrdsian guitar cut through with the lead singer’s heartfelt mumbles. B-52’s had a frenetic pop-punk sound. Guadalcanal Diary featured both styles. ‘Cattle Prod’ is right out of the B-52’s playbook, which also crosses over with Atlanta’s Swimming Pool Q’s (anybody remember ‘Rat Bait?’)
Guadalcanal Diary’s members were mostly from the Atlanta area but made sure they were connected to the Athens scene.
Other bands in this arena — ‘Let’s Active,’ the dB’s, Pylon, Love Tractor, the Brains, Primitons. The ‘Athens’ influence is much bigger than that of course and remains a creative spot for cutting edge rock music, having spawned or adopted bands such as Neutral Milk Hotel, Widespread Panic and Drive-by Truckers, Of Montreal, among many others.
It’s hard sometimes to figure why some struck big and others didn’t.
But evidence from REM is perhaps as simple as its songs.
They have sold millions and here’s why: ‘Losing My Religion,’ ‘Fall on Me,’ ‘Orange Crush,’ ‘It’s the End of the World,’ ‘Man on the Moon,’ ‘E-bow the Letter,’ ‘Stand,’ ‘South Central Rain,’ ‘Leaving New York,’ ‘Radio Song,’ ‘Half a World Away,’ ‘The One I Love.’ I could go on (Imitation of Life, What’s the Frequency Kenneth). Many of those are songs that’ll be around a lot longer than the band members themselves.
If you want to look at it that way. And I do.
Personal favorites: Orange Crush. and E-Bow the Letter.
Part 1
It is the year 2525, and a storm described as ‘apocalyptic’ is barreling down on Florida and Alabama’s Gulf Coast.
The TV reporters hyperventilate and exaggerate their inability to stand in a stiff breeze.
But this is a big one. The biggest they say since the National Weather Service upped the gender equality correctness by calling the boy’ hurricanes, ‘hisicanes.’
This is Hisicane Donald.
Millions of Americans stared, transfixed by the spiral on TV screens.
Counterclockwise swirling. Hypnotizing.
It looked like the cosmic spiral of our galaxy.
Everybody asked: When is landfall? Where is landfall? When is that TV reporter going to be conked in head by a wind-driven coconut?
Hisicane Donald’s path had been surprisingly fast moving.
And it is upon us now.
Some people had chosen to flee, pack up the car and head out. Others chose to stay, shoring up their houses with boards and their doors and yards with sandbags.
And some, hesitated, caught up in staring at the spiral and wondering if it is really worth running from or should they just ‘hunker down.’
This is historic. Never been seen before, the TV blared.
“This your first ‘herckun?’ Old timer nursing a 16-oz PBR asks.
Prosby had just walked in and sat down at the End of the Line Tavern.
“Oh no, no,’ Prosby said.
Soul Sisters: Caring, love as I rearrange everything
Hello again, and?
Ain’t life grand?
Now that you can see it.
Now that you can be it.
Any other explanation doesn’t stand
How it’s all connected, perhaps not quite perfected, like the best can come from breaking with the plan
Every place
My love for you I find
In heart, body and mind
Let go, let go and shine
Yes is the better answer, like a clinging leaf is the better dancer, most of the time
For more of what I call ‘Attempted Poetry’ hit the so-named button on the right of yuor screen or just click here: https://myvinylcountdown.com/category/warning-attempted-poetry/
In these blogs, I wrote a little earlier about the Grateful Dead.
Short take: I really never have understood the ulra-passionate appeal for a band whose songs, at least half, sound like sleepy Americana tunes, a genre that didn’t exist — at least in name — in the Dead’s heyday. Or it could also be described as Ronnie Lane music, only without the deep English musical accent that British musician layered on vocals and music.
I did promise further research into the Dead, noting that the only vinyl album I had was ‘Terrapin Station.’ So since that time I found some Dead I’d had digitally, namely the albums ‘Workingman’s Dead’ and ‘American Beauty.’
Of course like many listening to music in the 1970s, I knew ‘Casey Jones’ and the classic band on the road song, ‘Truckin’ ‘ which blesses us with one of the shrewdest summation lines of these years: “What a long strange trip it’s been.”
So this little additional homework has left me with two observations.
ALBUMS: Greatest Hits (Reissue: 1982 of 1975 release); Truth In Time (1978); Soul Survivor (1987)
MVC Rating: Greatest 5.0/$$$$; Truth 4.0/$$$; Soul Survivor/$$$
One of my favorite artists — all time.
I have three albums that capture the essence and soul of a man with essence and soul. He was the best at covering other’s work and elevating. But he wrote his own as well.
His earlier stuff collected on the hits album is classic R&B, soul. Some of the best made.
The Al Green-penned ‘Let’s Stay Together,’ ‘Let’s Get Married,’ ‘Call Me,’ and ‘I’m Still in Love With You’ all smolder with love and hotter love. Green’s falsetto is the best. That’s not up for debate with me. It is the best.
His song, “Tired of Being Alone” is a timeless classic.
But it’s his cover of the Bee Gee’s ‘How Can You Mend a Broken Heart’ that takes the prize for top, not to be too hyperbolic, perhaps Top 3, covers of all time. That is an emotional workout listening to Green sing that.
The only song not on the Greatest Hits that should have been is ‘Take Me to the River,’ a Green song covered quite successfully later by the Talking Heads.
Green in 1974, after some traumatic life events and hospitalizations, became a pastor. He leads a big church in Memphis near Elvis’ Graceland. Over the years he has wavered between recording pure gospel music and a hybrid of popular, with God infused throughout.
Some of his ’80s’ work is as powerful as anything he’s ever done. I got religion about three times listening to Soul Survivor and his sung version of the 23rd Psalm with a full gospel choir. In my copy of ‘Soul Survivor’ I was happy to find a 5X7 photo and a bio sheet.
ALBUM: Terrapin Station (1977)
MVC Rating: 4.0/$$$$
Those who saw my Allman Brothers post know I’m less than a Grateful Dead fan. I used to live in Marin County where the band members lived, but it was years after Garcia had died.
Jerry could play guitar, but I never felt, I mean felt, their music. I realize a lot of their popularity was kind of cultish thing and involved the culture of altered states. So I have Terrapin Station album playing right now under the influence of an Advil and a beer.
Still don’t get it.
It seems a lot of what they do is based in roots music, or laid back bluegrass and folk/country with an electric guitar playing leader who saw his guitar solos as a positive outgrowth of his psychedelic drug-taking — kind of like spiders making webs after some hallucinogens given by scientists. It’s an actual scientific study (look it up here.)
The folky bluesy blend by the Dead is not bad but the music doesn’t stand out to me as do acts such as the Band, the Byrds or CSN&Y for that matter. Some of it is really pleasant rocking chair music in the vein of some of those groups, though.
Two full disclosures: I haven’t heard much beyond what I have (Terrapin Station) or on the radio. I pledge to listen to another album or two at some point.
Other full disclosure: I was a reporter in Orlando covering the Dead when they came in for a show. Must of been early 1990s. Central Florida meet thousands of hippie Deadheads..
I was assigned by the Orlando Sentinel to do the ‘color’ story which means looking for fun tidbits, capture the scene, find an angle.
I got tear gassed.
I don’t remember what the headline was but in my admittedly weak memory I recall this as headline: Deadheads Riot.
A small band of Deadheads opened a couple of doors at the old O-rena allowing those outside to rush the door. It got ugly with some police body slams, numerous arrests and clouds of tear gas. I was temporarily blinded by the spray.
I had to get the spray out of my eyes and write a story.
I guess when I was young and heard of the Grateful Dead I expected something wild, psychedelic, but most of what I’ve heard from them has been rather tame, rioting aside.
I was aware of the Cowsill’s cover song of ‘Hair’ which mentions the Dead as an example of a band with no ‘bread.’ (Money.)
I knew that line from Hair at about 9 but never heard their music until FM radio listening in the md-70s.
Nothing new here. I do get that there is a lot of repetitive instrumental music, and I understand how that can be appealing as your musical brain rides the waves. So part of my critique is about expectations. I was expecting something groundbreaking or, at least, sounding like nothing else from the hippest hippie group of all time. Something closer to Zappa.
Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention put out the double record “Freak Out,’ in mid 1960s — that was freak out psychedelic music. You have to hear it to believe it.
But unlike Garcia, who celebrated mind ‘expanding’ drugs, Zappa eschewed drugs. Famously he would fire you from the band at even a hint of use. He is reported to have kicked Lowell George out of one incarnation of the Mothers because he was doing illegal substances.
Any way, I don’t mean to diminish the Dead, especially since I don’t know their body of work. Know the better known songs like ‘Casey Jones’ and ‘Truckin’ of course. Terrapin Station is good. I like it. But I wouldn’t follow a tour around the country and go to 12 concerts in a row over this.
It wasn’t too long ago the Grateful Dead had worldwide concerts and drew pilgrims, or Deadheads from everywhere.
With dozens of albums and high level fan loyalty I’ll bet the Dead have no lack of bread.
Did I say dunk?
Ha ha. Funny for a minute there I thought I said I would dunk by our next March Madness.
Funk. Yeah that’s what I meant. I would add more funk to my listening list and this blog.
Ha ha. Dunk.
Well it’s the morning (or two) after and you can see my state of mind about my vow to dunk. AL.com colleague John Archibald said if I do it — dunk, that is, — he will donate $1,000 to Lewy body disease research. I have unofficially heard three other colleagues say they would do the same thing.
Before I get too many pledges let me continue with more research. It’s not encouraging so far.
The $1,000 checks seem pretty safe. The more research I do, the more questions and doubts I have. I’m 58 and losing brain cells and muscle tone as we speak.
Then I read a long story in Sports Illustrated about a guy at 42 who never dunked but embarked at a rigorous training expedition to dunk. And he did, eventually. His method? Four or five workouts per week — and it took him nearly a year. Not what I want to hear. A well-meaning commenter said that Spud Webb at 5-feet-7 inches can still dunk at 47.
Great.
Webb, who WON FIRST PLACE WITH A 360 DEGREE DUNK IN AN NBA DUNK CONTEST, can still dunk.
The closest model I have so far is this 42 year-old Sports Illustrated guy who at 6-feet-2 dunked for the first time. Did, did I mention, it took him a year of excruciating exercises?
I started today on my training nonetheless. I went to hot yoga with colleague John Archibald. It was great and I’m going to do it again — if they let me.
As I was preparing to go I realized I lost my glasses. I went back in the yoga room where it was now wall-to-wall people.
Excuse me I lost my glasses I said as I stepped over people in twisted poses and contorted faces. Their eyes expressed disapproval. All that and we ended up finding my glasses elsewhere — in the locker.
I have learned something in my research. I need to have ‘swag.’
I think that’s short for ‘swagger.’ That’s a place of supreme confidence that my YouTube watching has taught me that dunkers have swag. Mac McClung, a viral video sensation in High School, has swag. The phenomenon of McClung is at least partly a racial thing. He’s white and ‘White Men Can’t Dunk,” as the Wesley Snipes-Woody Harrelson movie pointed out to America.
To make it all the more interesting McClung, who played for a small high school called Gate City in Virginia, is going to Georgetown where white basketball players over the past few decades have been more rare than a yellow cardinals.
But that’s a whole different topic and suffice it to say I am white and I can’t jump. I’m also 58. I also have Lewy body dementia, a progressive brain disease that will likely end my life earlier than I was planning on. So, besides counting down my vinyl records on this website, I will now train to dunk.
I figure I have a good two years before I finish my records. I credit my blog with being therapeutic, keeping my mind active. The dunk training will be a way to keep my body active.
I’d be lying if I said the disease hasn’t affected my memory and my muscle strength and stamina.
So here am searching for my swag and my glasses.
And I’ve always got the ‘out’ when I show up at Mike’s Madness next year and people start calling my name and asking me when I’m going to show the dunk.
Dunk? I don’t remember anything about a dunk.
Really?