The view from the office today. Fog from morn to midnight.
On the odd chance there’s no Bleat on Thursday, it’s been nice knowing you. I fell off the countertop while cleaning out the cupboard. I’m not saying I will, but I’m looking at the cupboards right now, looking at the chair I have to get to the upper reaches, and thinking no, I’ll have to stand on the stone counter. The slippery stone counter.
But why? I have a mission. While my wife is away I am going through every closet and every cupboard and figuring out what we have, and what we need. The former often consists of expired items, as happens in any well-regulated household. Things get pushed to the back. Things get forgotten. You discover you have three half-used Montreal Steak seasoning containers and a mostly-full seasoning blend you don’t like but keep around in case there is a sudden, immediate need for third-string seasoning profiles. I mean, I might like that Traders Joe Smoky Georgian (the nation, not the state) paprika dust, if I found the right thing for it. Did I try it on eggs? Everything is better on eggs. I will try it on eggs tomorrow, so no, I won’t throw it. Then -
NO. That is how spices survive you. This is how your kids go through your cupboards and find things that lost their zest four presidential administrations ago.
What will inevitably happen in a year or two: my wife will be pawing through the bottles and container and tins for something absolutely essential to a recipe she dearly, intensely wants to make, and it’s not there, and I thought we had some. Did you throw it away? Why?
Because I don’t want daughter to post a bottle of expired cloves on the subreddit dedicated to ancient things in grandma’s cabinet?
This sentence will initially make no sense, so while she parses and processes, I can run. I can run to the store and get cloves.
There’s a container of Vikings Skol Salt. Lawryesque. I have’t used it much, nor have I used the Lawry’s, or the Traders Joe Ersatz Lawry’s. Weaning yourself off that stuff is the beginning of wisdom. I mean, it’s fine, but it’s like putting Tabasco or Frank’s on everything and praising yourself for your well-seasoned cuisine. It replaces your conception of salt. It's the gateway sodium! You have to find stronger, harder kicks! Lawry's just doesn't do it for you anymore!
There’s a container of Goyo Adobo seasoning. Never figured out whether I was just incapable of detecting its subtleties or whether it’s just basically salt that hired some friends for no-show jobs.
Well, that will be tonight’s job. Tomorrow I pick up Daughter from the airport, we have a good Indian meal, ring in the new year, then she probably stays up until the cab comes at 5 AM. Then we have the great vacant expanse of New Year’s Day, followed by the vestigial remnants of the rest of the week, which really stretch the Dead Week longer than usual. And that’s fine!
Nothing much here tomorrow except for a space to chat. If you wish, use the comments to recap your year and cast your eyes forward, preferably with hope and good cheer. The alternatives are cheap and lazy.
It’s 1977.
There was a vogue for art like this in the 70s, a nostalgia for the Rockwell / Parrish look.
In 1976, Thomas released Home Where I Belong, produced by Chris Christian on Myrrh Records, the first of several gospel albums. It was the first Christian album to go platinum, and Thomas became one of the biggest contemporary Christian musical artists of the period.Thomas embraced his newfound faith, but sometimes clashed with fundamentalist Christian fans because he still performed his previous popular hits.
Citation needed, really. He died in 2021. I missed that.
Side by side with punk, stuff like this:
Ray Conniff was a 60s holdover. The massed choirs, the lush arrangement - that was dad stuff, and maybe even he was sick of it by 1977. Still, “Rain On” hit #48 on the singles charts.
A MAJOR NEW ARTIST.
New? This was her fourth album. “Right Time of the Night” was the song that put her over. I think we thought she was younger. She’d actually been part of the Smothers Brothers show nine years before.
Ah, yes, Johnny “Guitar” Watson! We snickered at the name, because it seemed as if it tried too hard.
Early career
In the 1950s, Bare repeatedly tried and failed to sell his songs.
That seems a rather cruel summation. True for many in their early days, no doubt. Unless you're Mozart. Also:
After being inducted in the 1960s but gradually drifting away, Bare was reinstated as a member of the Grand Ole Opry on April 7, 2018, by Garth Brooks.
Wonder if he began gradually drifting again.
“Call It What You Will, but Asleep At the Wheel Is Just Doin’ More Of What They Do Best.”
Uh - okay? Is there something I’m supposed to call it, and I’m not, out of ignorance?
Third Capitol record, but fifth overall. Hit 162 on the Billboard 200, but much higher on the country charts. Western swing should have been much more popular; I don’t know why it wasn’t. Give the people a “Smoke that Cigarette” or “Hot Rod Lincoln” and they lap it up and ask for more.
Works Volume 1 features a side dedicated for each member to write and arrange their own tracks, while the fourth side features songs performed collectively. Keith Emerson recorded his Piano Concerto No. 1, Greg Lake wrote several songs with lyricist Peter Sinfield, and Carl Palmer recorded tracks of varied musical styles.
Of course I had to buy it, being a prog dork. He wrote a Piano Concerto! Lyrics by Pete Sinfield? I’m there! I saw the tour, too. No one would go with me.
Snort:
In the band's Beyond the Beginning documentary, Lake recalled that Emerson invited composer Leonard Bernstein to listen to the work during his visit to the Paris studio where the recording was being mixed. Upon listening to the work, Bernstein said it "reminded him of Grandma Moses", a folk artist. Emerson, however, did not recall Bernstein saying this.
On the other hand, it says everything about music in 1977: there was the Sex Pistols, and there was this band that put out an album with an actual piano concerto.
And then these guys, hoping to catch lightning in a bottle again:
England Dan was Dan Seals, whose brother worked with that Croft fella. They got a few minor hits out of this one.
Being from the Dallas, Texas area, England Dan and John Ford Coley named Dowdy Ferry Road after a street in the southeastern part of town. Dowdy Ferry (Exit #476) connects with Interstate 20 in Texas.
Settles that. So why was he England Dan?
Dan's childhood nickname, given to him by his brother Jim, was "England Dan" because he was a fan of English rock band The Beatles, and he occasionally adopted an affected English accent.
A reminder that cringe has always been cringe, even before the word was applied to things like this.
Finally, the best album of anything we've seen above:
Verlaine was the most unhealthy looking musician of the year. He was like the John Hurt of guitarists. But it's a remarkable album. There was stuff that was . . . close, but nothing like this. Punk but not dumb, new wave but not pretty, smart but not Talking Heads show-off-smart, with a great guitarist.
Maybe you had to be there.
Eno produced some of their work at first, but they didn't like how he made them "cold and brittle." I've heard the demos. They don't have a quarter of the thrash and glory as the ones we know, and to be honest they sound absolutely incompetent.
That'll do for today. Thank you for your visit. Now it's time for Quasicomics!
