I've been pretty much dragging of late and still trying to recover from the heat exhaustion of the Monday Davenport Bargain Hunt. To which I got a email from the folks at Ragged Records of a storewide sale next Friday night from 4 to 8. If I had known that, I would have postponed going there on Monday. Doubt if I will be going.
Steve Earle does a meet and great at Prairie Lights Books in Iowa City prior to his concert at the Englert Theater next Tuesday the 7th. A slight problem has arrived, we have gotten mighty busy at work with all projects coming in just before school starts and a good bet that I'll be working the weekend, probably to pay off the big electric bill for running the AC all month of July. We didn't get much rain at all and therefore the corn crops are toast. Which means higher prices at the store.
Among other things, the folks' German Shepard, Miss Maggie May at age 12 is on his last legs it seems. Time and age have really crept up on her and even though she still loves having her frisbee thrown to her, she gets a bit confused as if she doesn't know where she's at. I noticed the last couple times I was over at my folks house, I managed to sneak into the house and watch her sleep in front of the fan and it would take her a while to figure out I was there. I'm sure Mom would love to keep Maggie living as long as she possibly can and who knows she might live another year or two but she really has slowed down a lot this year. But then again, there hasn't been too many German Shepards that lived 12 years. Duke, our long departed GS doggie only made it 9 years after the fact.
Upon discussions with Martin Daniels about any Arizona trip, if I do finally sign off on going to the desert one more time this year, the last window chance for that to happen would have to be late September if ever this year. Or try to make it to Crookton Pass so I can jump off the bridge to go out in style. But we all know I wouldn't go and do that, then who would take over for me for the forgotten forty fives out there? And besides, the new Vaccines will be out next month, as well as the new Bob Dylan.
My well being has also been taken into question by my co workers, since I have zero tolerance of the stupid things that Marvelous Marvin Anderson does or Stink Boy Frank not bothering to clean the cutters after using it or emptying the damn tray, since the poor boy can't lift over 10 pounds. Or so he says. But then again he's been known to do as little as possible. Marvin on the other hand continues to fuck up and have a worse attitude then me when it comes down to being farmed out to the dammed packaging department. I don't know, I love Marvin like a brother but sometimes brothers do get on each other nerves and he does a fine job of that. But then again, we been working nonstraight for two weeks now and maybe it is time for a vacation of some sorts.
I think there's times I just rather be in the confines of a record store, going through a bunch of old boxes to see what is in there, or just be here at home, looking at what I did buy and forgot all about. Or coming to term to my morality by finding old 45s that I used to have and buying again since the original 45s that I do have have been played so many times the grooves have wore off. I don't think y'all, the readers out there really could care about a Nick Noble or the famous Goofers with their Goofy Dry Bones 45 that is on my wish list, but for every oddball single that I grew up and reacquiring (Chuck Murphy-One Beer), there's the other rock and roll singles that affirm the old days of my mom and her sister's massive 45 collection although I don't think neither one of them would have Jack The Ripper by Link Wray in their procession.
And there's so much music in this life that I have come across. How the hell did I start listening to 10 decades of stuff that go all the way back to the 1920's? When for the most of this life, it was rock and roll and good old soul music of the 60s into the 70s and living through all phases. The disco wasn't the death all, not like it was in 1998 when Limp Bizkit came into play and Universal bought out Polygram to start the music downfall. To which all of a sudden, I'm starting to see and play more Dave Dudley or Harry Belafonte after finding their albums at the Salvation Army. Or the endless playlist of what is found at the cheap bins all across the Tri State here?
I don't know it makes no sense but I continue to do it and document it with the Singles Going Steady series. A collection of 45s of songs that actually are on 45s and not a figment of imagination. Or trying to draw a line between Black Uhuru, The Soft Machine, Gaslight Anthem or Arthur Conley. Or Chuck Murphy, Or Nick Noble whoever he is. Bob Dorr may not like it, but perhaps even he couldn't compete with my oddball assortment of tunes of every known styles (except rap and opera) and my odd ability to find the forgotten single or champion of a long lost band whose dollar cd found at Half Priced Book started a blog about that lost band from Wisconsin. Maybe I'm too overqualified to make it to any half thought of rock and roll hall of fame in Iowa. It's not overconfidence, just a long lasting love of music for the past 50 years that's been the saving grace and kept me from a early grave.
I was asked at one time by some drunk woman at a bar after playing there years ago as a musician what type of music fits me the best, she said well since Bob Dorr is in the Blue Band, he must be considered a blues artist eh?
If you can call it that, I said.
I'm not a bluesman by any means. Not country either. My forte is rock and roll. I'm a rock and roller first and foremost. It came from the garage, not from some pseudo blues bar that's not blues but rather an imitation for entertainment value. Can't speak for him but my influences come from The Who, Garage Rock and Buddy Holly, there might be a John Lee Hooker or Bo Diddley type of sound but mine was three chords and the truth. Perhaps I could have made a better career of it or a cover band but my heart and soul was in the record store first and foremost. It made killed my music career but it did made me what I am today. A audiophile record collector that would love to spread the gospel of good music. But in the end, have to settle for a blog that a few read and a couple comment from time to time. Maybe some day when I retire from this or pass on maybe it will make sense of what the Top Ten was all about. In the end, I resign to the fact that I'll never rich or famous or even semi known. Just a blogger with a closet cult following.
It's really not that bad.
