testament to the power of musical connections indeed.
I’m a die-hard Nissan fan, and fairly dismissive of American cars (too many Pintos and Vegas in my past.)
And yet, after watching Dylan’s Chrysler commercial last night, I feel an overwhelming desire to buy a Chrysler product.
My Little One, who’s not yet 10, watched the whole thing, and at the end when the snippet of lyrics comes in, she squealed “I KNEW it was that song” and made that the first song on her bedtime playlist.
The Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine is toying with my head, and it’s all because of music.
This machine kills anything you want killed. Use your power for good instead of evil.
ome years ago I almost met Evin Wolverton. We both participated in FAWM more than once, and when I heard he’d moved to the San Francisco area, I invited him to perform at the Northern California Artistic Achievement Awards (The Grassies.) Evin was too sick to make it, and we asked Philip Flathead to fill in, which worked out. Except I didn’t get to meet Evin and tell him in person what his music has done for me.
When I found out Evin had a Kickstarter project for his new album, I chipped in. I had exactly a dollar to my name, and I put it in. Didn’t get me anything; anything less than a ten-spot doesn’t even get a copy of the album when it’s finished. That’s okay; Evin’s art is worth supporting and it’s about time I started giving back to the artists that fill my life.
Except, I did get something. Pretty much won the lottery.
inding new music that hits me viscerally is sublime. Recently, No Depression introduced me to Eric Tingstad and his take on Americana instrumentals.
When my copy of Badlands arrived, it stayed in the CD player in the car for over two weeks, playing over and over again. Nearly every track is on my all-night music list (I never sleep without music playing. I’ve heard some people do. Seems odd to me.)
‘ve been plagued by a particular earworm for over 40 years.
I’ve got a mule, her name is . . .
If her name popped unbidden into your mind, you’re either a fan of American folk music or you went to elementary school in California in the 60s.
The song was originally entitled Low Bridge, Everybody Down when Thomas Allen wrote it in 1905. Now it’s called The Erie Canal Song, 15 Miles on the Erie Canal, and any number of other names. It’s about the years, decades really, when boats on the Erie Canal were towed by mules. By 1905 the era of the mules was just about over.
I wish the era of this earworm were over.
Oh; the mule’s name? Sal. I’ve got a mule her name is Sal. Enjoy your earworm.