FlashBackSpin

Canned Heat
'Future Blues'
1970, Liberty Records

This '70 gem recently made it into my CD collection.  It replaced my LP that was unwittingly given away in a time of weakness or haze.  The reason why escapes me (hello CK).  Canned Heat will always be recognized for their Woodstock performance and the singles "On the Road Again" and "Goin' Up the Country".  The long player, 'Future Blues', spawned "Let's Work Together", a re-tooled song by bluesman Wilbert Harrison.  Known for taking old blues and giving them new life in a rock/boogie format, this L.A. band started in '65 and recorded this, their 5th release with Harvey Mandel as lead guitarist.  Check out his solo stuff and you'll be amazed.  His early style of two-hand fretboard tapping was groundbreaking at the time.  Take a seat Eddie Van Halen.

'Future Blues', with an extremely anti-war photo of the band in astronaut suits (moon landing), an Iwo Jima pose (war) and the American flag upside down, was also taking on conservation of the planet and us eventually trashing the moon.  The inside photo is of the band in the Redwoods of California with a short missive about our forests and the need to preserve them.  A prelude to the green movement, perhaps?

Punctuated by Mandel's frenetic guitar and Bob Hite's over-the-top harmonica, this release understates a very short "Let's Work Together", and instead stretches out on "So Sad (The World's in a Tangle)", "My Time Ain't Long" and "London Blues".  It gives us a past peek at the typical attitude of the times : sadness and frustration of our leader's decisions.  Sound familiar?

Rollicking and jamming with a dash of positivism, this album is the real deal.  I'm glad it's been reunited with me and I hope that my long-lost vinyl is in a safe place.  Just for its future's sake.

In Search Of

As a music hunter/gatherer, I am fortunate enough to have several bricks-and-mortar stores to choose from in the Denver/Boulder area.  Wax Trax, Albums On The Hill and the much ballyhooed and rightfully so, Twist and Shout.  Still called record stores (how retro), these independent outlets offer a smorgasbord of CDs, LPs, vintage posters and collectibles.  And free, live, short sets from many bands playing that night at local venues.  You can actually pick up a copy (CD or LP) and take it to a listening station to check it out, even a new CD.  It does take a lot of time in this busy world but it can be gratifying to hold an LP, forever gone from your collection, and maybe buying it, if it wasn't for that one scratch.  Vinyl has been coming back for quite a few years now as the warm analog sound has caught the ears of younger generations.  I think DJing and the mixing of songs or sampling, though not my cup of music, has really pushed this education and knowledge of the 'old school'  for the better.

 Another fascinating feature of these stores is the staff.  Some older frizzed-out music phreaks.  Some young hippie-chick that knows the jam scene.  Or the 20-something shoegazer who can tell you all the musicians who played on Miles Davis's "Bitches Brew" sessions, the album release date, the out-takes, the rehearsals.  Most of them have to know their musical history as more of us Baby Boomers try to recapture the past.  Ask a worker drone at Best Buy where the Golden Earring section is and they'll give you directions to the nearest jewelry store.

Speaking of Golden Earring, I went through a near-fanatical search for the "Wall of Dolls" CD.  In true hunter/gatherer mode, I set out to find it used.  Some may call me cheap but I prefer thrifty.  And this disc was available only on import for over $20!  Did I want it that bad?  Yes, and I finally broke down and ordered it.  Along my search, though, I did find some older G.E., used, and this satisfied my fix.  Check out their 4th ("Eight Miles High", '69) through their 11th ("Contraband" or "Mad Love", '76).  Most of them I found for 6 or 7 bucks.  Or finding The Bob Seger System's "Ramblin' Gamblin' Man" for $4.  It is very rare and still a great listen.  I'm not sure the low price is what whets my whistle, it's the find that counts.  

So, there you have it.  You can find almost anything on Amazon or I-tunes but finding the first It's A Beautiful Day for $3.99 is a true musical orgasm.  At least for the cheap (thrifty?) me.

***** MUSIC *****

The Black Keys
'Brothers'
2010, Nonesuch Records

If you're not yet acquainted with The Black Keys, you had better get off your rock ass.  These two guys from Akron, Ohio, have released their sixth disc, 'Brothers'.  And it is chock-full of tight, simple rock and blues songs that will leave you sweating.  And crying.

Eleven of the 15 tracks are under four minutes.  Concise.  The other four top out around five.  Precise.  If you like the spare but bombastic style of  The White Stripes, duo excellente, (and I do), then T.B.K. is waiting to smack you in the face, massage your cheeks, then bang on your head again.  It's all about two nerdy-looking guys sounding like they've reached back  into Muddy Waters and R.L. Burnside, grabbed some early Zeppelin and mixed in today's DIY technology to create some fine tuneage.

The opener, "Everlasting Light", has the T-Rex stomp all over it and Marc Bolan's falsetto provided by guitarist/vocalist Dan Auerbach.  "Next Girl" is classic Keys with dirty guitar and drummer Patrick Carney banging as if he's trying to knock your house down with a baseball bat.  Frail vocals on "She's Long Gone" with unforgiving drum beats and fuzz lead is one of my favorites.  As is "Black Mud", perhaps in reference to a delicious relic by Muddy called "Electric Mud".  ( Note : Waters hated the raunchy tone of his guitar on this '68 LP, but I dig it.  So will you.)  It psyches you back a few years and coulda shoulda been longer than a meager 2:09.  "Ten Cent Pistol" is another T.B.K. sound that lulls you into their bleak and violent world with a way-back guitar lead, complimented by Auerbach's morose vocals.  This should be in the next Tarantino film.  This is followed by "Sinister Kid" with its sticky guitar that is just plain cool.

The only drawback that I see is the lyrics.  I'm not much into meaningful words when I want to rock out, unless I'm in a teenage wasteland mood. Lyrics like 'Oh darling can't you see / I'm shining for you' or 'I'm just one wishing / that I was a pair'  kind of rubs me wrong in a right way.  I mean, these guys have always sung about lost love, no love, being lonely or forgotten or invisible.  It's their thing.  And remember.  KISS.  Keep It Simple Stupid.   The blues and rock are simple.  Exalt in all 15 songs.  The sound is past, present and future.  Raw and tarnished.  Please, keep getting acquainted with The Black Keys.  I won't say I told you so.

*** LAST WEEK ***

Top 3 Things That Irked Me

1. Stop the oil rupture already.  Anybody?
2. "The Scourge of Summer" begins
3. Ronnie James Dio - R.I.P.

 Top 3 Things That Did Not Irk Me

1. Cake (dessert and the band)
2. Chicago Blackhawks - Stanley Cup
3. Memories of simpler times

The Graduate

Hopefully everyone has gone through some sort of graduation ritual or process, either themselves, their kids or relatives.  My stepson, Forrest, graduated from high school May 26, 2010.  We are all proud of him that he made it through remarkably, as far as we know, unscathed.  No bad grades.  No bad attitude.  No bad girlfriends.  That last one might be a stretch.

Initially I was going to be clever, or try to be, and take images and /or dialogue from the coming-of-age flick, "The Graduate", and correlate it with Forrest's various steps through this learning process.  I stopped after realizing that there really wasn't anything clever to write about.  I hate trying to be clever.  Then, I tried using the symbolic vehicle of a seed growing upward toward  treehood in this immense forest.  Comparing his name with the trees and such.  I hate trying to be symbolic.  That didn't turn out so hot, either.

I came to the realization that making fun of graduation is not fun.  It is serious business, at least to these kids.  The public school of choice that Forrest attended is The Rocky Mountain School of Expeditionary Learning in Denver.  RMSEL (pronounced Rem-Zill) had a graduating class of 23 this year.  It was tight-knit group with a communal aspect.  Not hippie communal but a community that involved learning expeditions such as Outward Bound-type survival trips or studying ancient ruins by tracking what the various cultures encountered in their time.  The total population of this K-12 learning center is around 300 with very little fluctuation in number.  One intriguing aspect was a semi-annual 'showcase' that features the students expressing their various electives such as dance, poetry, music or comedy.  Very entertaining for all the parents and friends.  And the students.

RMSEL's mission statement is "to empower students and staff to be learners, thinkers, citizens and explorers engaged in and inspired by the real world.  We are crew not passengers."  That says it all.  Conscious of our environment, conscious of society's strengths and weaknesses and engaging all this with future focus, has been an eye-opener for me.

Graduation was a chance for the crew leaders (teachers) to individually address each student on a personal level and express what each student meant to that teacher.  Very emotional and inspiring.  Inspiring in a world of educational turmoil.  This school is a breath of rejuvenated air.

Forrest will take this experience with him and use it wisely and worldly.  Thinking small on a community level and bringing it to a global level is the key.  These future leaders have been given a chance to think small but act large.  All RMSELians carried a unique swagger reflecting their own personalities as they accepted their diplomas.  I am proud to have experienced and interacted with a great bunch of kids.  The ability to think outside the box, leadership and mentoring relationships and to communicate intelligently, will serve Forrest and these graduates immensely.  Congratulations Forrest and we are looking forward to another learning year with Blake who will be graduating next year from RMSEL.

FORREST WILLIAM LAMBERT
Class Of 2010

The Gymnasium

Going to the gym for over 20 years has produced some interesting results for me.  I think, and hope, it has been beneficial to my overall health and state of mind.  Friends of mine that don't work out think that I go there to flex and pose in front of mirrors. Ya, that's one of the reasons I keep going: to ogle myself and really love me.  Now, don't get me wrong, you really do need some mirrors, though.  Seeing yourself  in the mirror when you're pumping iron (for me, aluminum), helps you see your form on any given exercise.  And form is very important to achieve the maximum results.  You don't want to go out and pull your Achilles tendon or tweak your thingamajig. 

When I was single for most of those 20 years, it was entertaining to watch the skimpy gym attire and the girls that were poured into them.  Some weren't so entertaining.   Glancing in the mirror as they strut by, gave you a chance to not look like a sexual deviant or stalker.  And complimenting them on their hard work and sweat, you could get away with some close contact.  Until, of course, one of them took it wrong and accidentally (?) dropped a 10 lb. dumbbell on some dumbbell's foot and they had to go to the emergency room with fractured toes and fractured ego and had to explain it to their boss.  I only heard about that one as the story circulated around the gym.

  Getting dates was a priority for some, but my main purpose was to add some muscle onto my skinny frame.  And I did.  It took rigorous lifting, a sensible diet and the realization it wouldn't happen overnight.  It took me several years to put on just two pounds of bulk.  And a lot of hard work.

For all the people that don't have the self-motivation, there are trainers.  A word of advice : they can be expensive with no guaranteed results.  It comes down to you and your perseverance.  Enjoying the gym is a big factor.  What's not to enjoy with all the self-ogling going on?  I recommend it to anyone who wants to learn about their body and have the time and energy to do so.  And it's never too late to start.  Some great results can change your life and enrich it beyond the "looking good" aspect.  No, I didn't become some famous bodybuilder that is pushing his supplements or knows somebody that knows somebody who knows Barry Bonds.  (This is starting to sound like a PSA.)

My results of going to the gym are twofold.  One is the healthy lifestyle.  But Two is the biggie :  meeting the most beautiful, the most intelligent, the most caring, the most zany and the most compassionate (and passionate) woman I have ever been lucky enough to meet.  At the gym.  And that is, Laura Bell, my wife, my heart, my soul. 

I still go to the gym religiously to keep in shape physically and mentally.  This is essential for the "old man" to keep up with his "young lady".  Ogling is still a pastime of mine but now I only ogle Laura.  And I think she still ogles me.  Well, glance maybe.  And dropping weights on each other is definitely a no-no.  Way too much pain.  And no gain.

This is a humongous world wide web shout-out to Laura : my life-partner and muse extraordinaire.  I love ya,

baby.

Winter VS. Summer : FISHING

As a former Minnesotan, I am an avid survivalist.  I have survived 80 below zero and army ant invasions.  I have survived the outdoors and the indoors.  I have survived eating lutefisk and drinking snowshoe grog.  I have survived camping trips and all other trips involving moving vehicles.  I think I have survived.  Here are two contrasting seasons that separate the men from the women.  And usually the women out-survive the men.

WINTER
In winter, all 10 million lakes in the state are frozen to unbelievable depths.  The fish usually have to survive on the bottom eating discarded junk from humanity.  Bottles, boots, tires and fishing lures turn up in the stomachs of these fish that desperately want to get caught so they are relieved of all the crap they have tried to digest. These gillies (little-known term for fish) get fished for even in the winter by gillers (little-known term for fishermen and fisherwomen) in a sport called, surprise, ice fishing.  And you thought it would be ice gilling, didn't you?  Now, I know everybody has heard of ice fishing, except maybe those that don't have ice nor fish in their environment.  They probably are better off not knowing because the sport is quite ludicrous.  My few times ice fishing were a dream come true, though.  Maybe to some a nightmare, true.  But to me, well it's all the same.  Being hearty souls that we are, lineage probably from the Arctic Circle or Neptune, we could endure walking onto a lake with bitter winds that immediately freeze your eyelids.  Hopefully open, because you need to see any stray open gill hole and falling into the murky, frozen water would be just another day on the lakes.  And a little annoying.

Bringing an auger, fishing poles, food with live bait, beverages and the intellect of the dodo, we cheerfully find our spot.  Out in the open.  No high-tech wind screen and no icehouse like Norv Norkoven.  Norv, legend has it, lives on the lake all year long.  We don't know how he does it.  Nor do we care.  He's just plain kookoo.  But a survivor.

As the auger slams onto the surface, which feels like a frozen diamond field, my fellow giller looks at me.  I can't tell if his eyes are frozen over; he kind of flutters his eyes and gives me the thumb up.  At least I think it was his thumb.  I can hardly keep my eyes from freezing shut as the wind picks up.  We both grab the 85 pound Ace Hardware Super Titanium-tipped Auger Deluxe model # 9 and go to town.  Not literally, but of course that's where my mind is.  After several brutal minutes, which seemed like hours, even days, we take a break.  A couple more yards to go and we break through the first of nine layers.  In my opinion, lighting a fire and letting it burn a hole sounds extremely enticing.  And warm.

Finally the gill hole is there.  A window to an underwater playground - undulating organics, floating organics, undulating, floating pieces of inorganic rubber boot.  And the gillies!  Look at them!  They are, wait, where are they?  There!  There is a silverfish!  No, those we only find by our furnaces that frightfully and translucently scurry away onto your bare foot and up your leg!  No, that's not a silverfish.  The fish is, well, silver but no bigger than a sardine.  Then I look closer.  My fellow dodo has dropped our live bait, minnows, into our portal.  They remained there for awhile, as if frozen (imagine that) in time.  We hurriedly brought our poles to the ready, with lures attached, and proceeded to catch our limit.  Now I don't know what the limit for bait was but it had to be about 20.  Ten each.  We proudly called it a day.  A very successful day.  Our limit (?) in only a few minutes.  A legend was born.  Take that Norv.

SUMMER
And summer fishing?  Do you actually think survivors like us prefer to fish from a trolling boat along a glass-like surface or on a sandy shoreline with gentle waves lapping onto our feet or sitting on a dock, lazily watching our line in the still of the near-evening?  I mean mosquitos big as Arne Lundquist's head swarm, the sun burning and the leeches.  Oh, those slimy, squirmy, tar-black leeches stuck to your feet and legs, sucking your blood slowly from your body, get the salt, quick, losing consciousness, waking up on an ice floe?  What?  Recovering in Norv's icehouse on the lake, I firmly declared that this is how survivors survive.  Now, could you pass me that Jasmine tea?