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I came across an interesting and very lenghty article about Fat Possum Records, my beloved record label from Oxford, Mississippi.

To 'preserve' it I will post the whole article below, with respect to the original author: Richard Grant from UK newspaper The Observer. It was originally published Sunday November, 16th 2003.

You should find the article here, (if the link still works):
http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2003/nov/16/popandrock2
Highly recommended reading if you're into Fat Possum!

Delta Force

The dishevelled duo behind the Fat Possum label have fought to bring old bluesmen to a new, young audience. But it's even harder keeping their battle-scarred artists alive. Richard Grant reports from deepest Mississippi

The offices of Fat Possum Records are located with wild incongruity between a police station and a Baptist church in the small, god-fearing town of Water Valley, Mississippi, where the lawns are deep and green and possession of beer is a criminal offence. I walk through the unmarked front door and past two weasel pelts on a hat rack and ask how things have been going.

'No worse than usual,' says Matthew Johnson, 34, the dishevelled, hard-drinking, fiercely iconoclastic founder of Fat Possum. He is limping around with two pins sticking out of his toes, having lost his temper, kicked a wall, broken two toes, ignored them as they healed crooked, then finally gone to hospital to have them re-broken and pinned, with little yellow plastic balls on the pinheads.

'We've signed this new guy Charles Caldwell and we're real excited about him.' Trouble is, he's been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. 'A touch of the pancreatic,' is how he puts it. 'It's so fucking sad. He's only 60.'

Paul 'Wine' Jones, another of the ageing Mississippi bluesmen to whom Fat Possum's fortunes are tied, has been jailed for drunk driving again, halting the production of his new album. 'At least he didn't kill anybody,' says Bruce Watson, 39, the other half of Fat Possum, an irreverent preacher's son who produces most of the records and keeps a hand grenade by his desk. Two of Fat Possum's best-known artists, R.L. Burnside and T-Model Ford, have gone to prison for killing people and T-Model served his time on a chain gang.

Johnny Farmer killed his wife but that was an accident; he was trying to shoot a deer. He is refusing to record any more songs because blues is the devil's music. It brings a curse on everyone who plays it and then you burn in hell.

'T-Model Ford got robbed for 2,000 dollars the other day,' says Johnson. 'Then someone threw a brick through his window. Then the 88-year-old white woman who was teaching him how to read and write got raped and beaten to death. This all went down in Greenville (Mississippi), which is one of the worst shitholes in America for violence and crack and degenerate goddamn madness. We'd like to get T-Model out of there but he won't leave.'

What about R.L. Burnside? From the very beginning, Fat Possum has operated amid chaos and disaster, racking up terrible debts, going through hideous legal wrangles and distribution nightmares, and all the while dealing with a troublesome, mutinous crew of musicians. R.L. Burnside is no slouch when it comes to trouble - Johnson has lost count of how many cars he has destroyed, for example, or the number of times he has failed to show up at the recording studio - but as their bestselling artist Burnside has done more than anyone to keep the leaky, listing vessel Fat Possum afloat.

Come On In, an album of Burnside's blues remixed with hip-hop beats, sold 180,000 worldwide and furnished a very lucrative song to The Sopranos soundtrack album. Ass Pocket of Whiskey, a Burnside collaboration with the young, punk-influenced rockers The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion sold more than 100,000 and opened up a whole new audience - young, white and hip - for the kind of raw, stomping, electrified Mississippi blues played by the old black men on Fat Possum. 'R.L. doesn't want to do any more tours, or learn any new songs, or write any new songs, or basically even pick up a guitar. But if I drive up to his house he might sing a few lines into a tape recorder,' says Watson. 'I can't blame him. He's 76 years old, he had a heart attack eight months ago and he's making good money just sitting on his front porch - way better money than he's ever made in his life.'

Nor is R.L. Burnside eager to talk to any more journalists, but Johnson and Watson have considered my request and come up with a plan. They hand me an envelope containing $2,000 in cash and a map to Burnside's house. 'This is his latest royalty payment,' says Watson. 'I'll call him and say you're going to deliver it and you'd like to talk to him. He may talk, he may not, but whatever you do, make sure you give him the money personally. If any of his kids say they'll give it to him, you hold on to the money and find R.L. In fact, I wouldn't even mention to any of his kids that you've got two grand in your pocket.'

R.L. Burnside's total earnings were in the low six figures last year. In the past 10 years he has earned well over half a million dollars. The entrance to his property is marked by two 50-gallon oil drums spilling over with rubbish and forming a small lake of rubbish about 10 feet wide. Elsewhere, in the front yard, there are stray beer cans and dirty nappies floating in mud puddles, mangy dogs and prowling cats, seven vehicles in various states of disrepair, and in the thick, steamy summer heat the whole place is buzzing with flies.

The Burnside clan, about 15 or 20 of them, and sometimes upwards of 25, live in two trailers on a quarter acre of weeds and bare, coppery earth in the backwoods hill country near Chulahoma, Mississippi. The larger trailer is grimy but sturdy-looking, with a solid wooden front porch. The smaller trailer is cracked, mouldering and swaybacked, connected for electricity by an orange extension cord snaking across the yard.

Leaning against one of the cars are three young men with jheri curls and baseball caps, drinking big 40-ounce bottles of Cobra malt liquor at 9.30 in the morning. I nod and say hello. They scowl back and say nothing. A little girl scampers up from under the porch and runs into the big trailer shouting, 'White man here!'

R.L. comes lumbering out onto the porch, looking old and tired, wearing mud-smeared trousers held up with braces and a checked shirt fraying at the collar. His eyes are bloodshot. The pupils have a thin outer rim of blue. Big, dark liver spots extend back from his cheekbones to his ears. 'Bruce called me,' he growls. 'Two thousand, right?' 'That's right. Have you got time to talk?' 'Little bit I reckon.'

I hand over the money and get him to sign a hand-written receipt. 'Has Fat Possum been paying you right?' I ask. 'Yeah, they done right by me, I reckon, but the money goes quick. I got 12 kids and you need a damn computer to count my grandkids. Then we got all these second cousins showing up and every one of them needs money.'

'Do any of your kids have jobs?'

'Ain't much work around here. One of my sons plays a little music.'

'Which one of these vehicles are you driving?'

'That van over there except it needs a new fuel pump. Only one of these that runs is my grandson's over there.'

From inside the trailer comes a terrible racket of screaming children, barking dogs, a man and a woman yelling at the children and each other, making liberal use of the oedipal noun, and a television game show turned up full blast. R.L. Burnside sits on his plastic porch chair as calm and motionless as a stone Buddha, then his hand flashes out to swat a fly on his leg. I remember something Bruce Watson told me about Burnside and lethal snakes. 'I heard you used to grab rattlesnakes and copperheads by the tail and snap them like a whip to break their necks.'

He brightens and smiles. 'Man, I was hell on them snakes,' he says. 'One time a copperhead got under my son's bed. I told him to go and grab it. He said, "Daddy, is it poisonous?" I told him, "No son, that's just an old blacksnake. He won't hurt you. You go in there and grab him behind the head." So he went on and grabbed up that snake and threw it out. Then I told him, "That was a copperhead!"' He laughs his deep, deep chuckle, heh heh heh, repeats the punchline and laughs some more.

How old was his son was at the time? 'Oh he was up around 13, 14 years old. I got him good with that one.'

I ask him about the man he killed and he gives a variation of his standard response: 'I didn't mean to kill nobody. I just meant to shoot the sonofabitch in the head and two times in the chest. Him dying was between him and the Lord.'

It happened at a dice game long ago; Burnside had beaten the man out of $400. In court he claimed self-defence, although one of the bullets entered the back of the victim's head. Burnside was working for a powerful white plantation owner at the time, driving a tractor. His boss wanted him back at work so he fixed things with the judge and R.L. ended up serving only six months.

As a young man, as part of the great black migration away from sharecropping, lynching parties and Jim Crow laws, Burnside went north to Chicago. Muddy Waters had married his first cousin and he would go over to their house two or three times a week and play the blues with Muddy. He left Chicago because five family members, including his father and two brothers, were murdered there in eight months. He came back down to Mississippi and worked various farm jobs for 40 years, playing the blues at house parties, juke joints and local festivals, until Matthew Johnson heard him one night and decided to record him.

Now he has toured all over America and the world, appeared on television, earned a small fortune, and none of it seems to have changed him in the slightest. Has he enjoyed his musical success? 'Well, there's a lot of travelling and fussing around but I can always use money around here.'

After his heart attack he gave up drinking on doctor's orders. At first he couldn't imagine life without alcohol but now he doesn't miss it. Nor does he miss playing music, an activity that was intimately connected with drinking. He tried playing a little recently, for the first time in more than a year, and it felt like he had to learn all over again. 'I'm getting too old for all that,' he says and gets to his feet, signalling that the interview is over.

One last question: how does he like the remixes of his music that Fat Possum has put out? 'At first I didn't like them too much,' he says. 'Then I saw how much money they were making and I got to liking them pretty well.'

Matthew Johnson is driving the country roads around Water Valley in his big, dented, Chevrolet pick-up truck, sipping on a cocktail, rolling through the woods and fields and swamps with no destination in mind and the stereo turned up loud. To really hear a piece of music he has to take it for a test drive. For the third time he plays a new song Fat Possum has been working on, a collaboration between R.L. Burnside and Kid Rock, the white hard-rock rapper from Detroit who has sold 17 million records in four years. Burnside's guitar and vocals have been sampled and mixed with a beat, some overdubs and a verse and chorus from Kid Rock. Neither artist gave them much to work with but the styles blend in an ear-catching way and song is full of energy and attitude. 'Fuck yeah,' says Johnson. 'It sounds good, doesn't it? Working with R.L. has taught us all about squeezing out the last piece of toothpaste from the tube.'

When Johnson and Watson first started doing rock and hip hop collaborations with Burnside they came under heavy attack from purists. It gave Johnson great pleasure to outrage the 'blues geeks', as he calls them, but that wasn't his motivation. For the label to survive it was essential to put out new music by its best-known artist, and R.L. was not learning or writing any new songs. Johnson was also looking for a way to make the blues relevant to a young audience, by framing its essential feeling in a modern context. 'I was never in this as an archivist or a folklorist, recording these guys for posterity. It was the energy and intensity that attracted me.'

In 1991 Matthew Johnson was 22 years old, drinking like a maniac, getting into crazy scrapes, doing a lot of hard drugs with loaded pistols and vodka bottles strewn across the table. He was also attending the University of Mississippi on an occasional basis and had written some reviews for a blues magazine - 'all these crappy bands from Sweden and New Jersey, doing covers of "Sweet Home Chicago".'

One Sunday he drove out to Junior Kimbrough's juke joint, a rough-hewn saloon and dance shack out in the woods, where R.L. Burnside and Junior Kimbrough played the blues until dawn to a moonshine-swilling crowd. Johnson was blown away by the raw power of the music and decided immediately that it needed recording. He had a $400 student loan cheque coming in and that was how Fat Possum began.

Now he is 34 and looks closer to 43, with a weary, distracted, slightly deranged air and a deep, dark, razor-cutting sense of humour, although not half as dark as R.L. Burnside's. A sensible man would have given up long ago. A less scrappy, tenacious and resourceful one would have been put under by bankers and lawyers. By the mid-1990s Fat Possum was a million dollars in debt. One year Johnson's bank charged him $14,000 in bounced cheque fees alone, at $17 per cheque. For two years Fat Possum was unable to release any music because of a legal battle with its distributor, Capricorn Records.

Junior Kimbrough, perhaps Fat Possum's greatest discovery, a man who reconfigured the blues into a kind of lo-fi, backwoods trance music, was the first artist to die. He left 36 children, many of whom were convinced Fat Possum owed them money. Then Asie Payton died, after only one recording session, and Johnny Farmer quit, and R.L. Burnside went into retirement, and so on.

The only new discovery they've made in years is Charles 'Cadillac' Caldwell, a retired factory worker and hound breeder who still sings the rough, old-time blues, with a moaning, shouting, spine-chilling vocal style, but it looks as though his first album will be his last. 'Basically the blues was dying when we started and now it's over,' says Johnson. 'The only guy we've got who's still running strong is T-Model Ford. There's some weird Dorian Gray shit happening with him. He's 80 now and he just keeps getting stronger.'

Last year T-Model Ford recorded a new album and played 150 shows. Towards the end of the tour he was complaining of blood in his urine and everyone assumed it was prostate cancer. They took him to the doctor who made an inspection and announced that T-Model, at the age of 79, had managed to contract gonorrhea.

Walking with a cane and his tall, gap-toothed, mentally impaired drummer Spam following, T-Model Ford makes a grand entrance into the Fat Possum offices, flashing his false teeth in a big, charismatic smile.

'I'm the Taildragger from Greenville, Muz-sippi! Ooo-weee, I make the pretty womens jump and shout! They took my gun but I got my knife and I'll cut a motherfucker too. Can't read, can't write, I don't argue with folks about the Bible but I love the womens! I love 'em cause of that little split they got. I got three womens right now and they won't let ol' T-Model alone. I'm a bad man! I can't get around like I used to but if I can reach a motherfucker, look out! I knocked out that Winehead Jones with this.'

He raises up his clenched right fist and bicep, which look as though they belong to a strong man in his fifties. He did indeed knock Paul 'Wine' Jones unconscious with one blow, during a squabble over whose white woman belonged to whom. Tomorrow T-Model is scheduled to play at a festival in Canada, a country he pronounces variously as 'Canna', 'Canny' and 'Can'. Last time he went there, he got up on stage and said, 'Hey, it's great to be overseas in Germany. I love the womens over here.' He also speaks highly of 'the little white women from Jay-pan'. T-Model never went to school, can't read a map or a roadsign and has no geographical sense whatsoever.

Before Fat Possum found him, he had spent his life in Deep South logging camps and on the chain gang for killing a man with a 25-cent pocketknife in a bar-room altercation. He fathered 26 children and started playing the guitar on the night his fifth wife left him, at the age of 58.

I ask T-Model if I can hear him play. 'Let's go,' he says and we get into his big blue 1979 Lincoln Continental and drive across the railroad tracks to a corner house in a part of Water Valley I have never seen before. An old man with one eye and no teeth is in a wheelchair on a rotting front porch, trying to attach a prosthetic leg to his stump. 'Hey Pete!' yells T-Model. 'Y'all got any elec-quickery up in there? We fixin' to play a little music.'

'Hey bluesman, you come on. We got electric,' says Pete and then his leg falls off with a clatter. 'I ain't never gonna get used to this damn fool leg.'

T-Model gets out his guitar and amp and the bottle of Jack and sets himself up on a chair on the porch. The music and the whiskey soon draw a crowd of afternoon drunks and a few curious mothers and small children. T-Model is flashing his smile, playing his rough, eccentric blues with raucous exuberance: 'I wanna rock you baby, till I drop dead in your arms.' There is violence and strangeness in his music, but no hint of the sadness or pain traditional in the blues. Matthew Johnson describes him as 'a happy-go-lucky psychopath'.

T-Model's life reads like a horror story. At the age of eight, his father beat him so badly between the legs with a piece of firewood that he lost a testicle. His ankles are scarred from the chain gang. His neck is scarred where one of his wives slashed his throat. He has been shot, stabbed, pinned under a fallen tree with a broken ribcage, beaten unconscious with a metal chair. He watched his first wife go off with his own father, watched another die after she drank poison to try and induce a miscarriage. The only woman he ever really loved poisoned him at the breakfast table; he woke up in hospital that afternoon and never saw her again.

'I play the blues,' he says during a whiskey break. 'But I don't ever get the blues. After my sister died I prayed to God to please let me live like a tree. Tree don't care if them other trees is dyin'. Tree don't care about nothin'. When they raped and killed that white lady, I felt bad - she was a good old white lady - but I didn't let it get me down. I don't let nothin' get me down.' Most people can't do this - stay happy because they've decided to be happy, no matter what - but it seems to work for T-Model.

As the sun goes down, three men are inside T-Model's Lincoln, rifling it for something to steal. Vehicles are drawing up to buy crack from a young man in a 'Jesus' T-shirt. An old man with a bowler hat and mad yellow eyes is coming towards me, trying to polish a peach on his leg as if it were an apple and leaving long smears of juice on his red slacks. He grabs at my shirt and demands money for gin. Another man is threatening Spam with a wine bottle, and T-Model is yelling, 'Get your hand out my pocket, motherfucker, I already give you two dollar!'

I pack up the gear, get T-Model behind the wheel, Spam in the back and we scramble out of there with everyone yelling and grabbing at the car. 'Man, they some beggin' motherfuckers around here,' says T-Model. He drops me off at the Fat Possum offices and drives off towards the trailer at the recording studio, where he and Spam are staying.

An hour later, I recount this to Matthew Johnson and he says, 'So you don't know for sure that T-Model is in the trailer? We'd better drive out there and check.' There's no sign of T-Model at the trailer or at the Texaco station where he has been courting a woman.

'I can't believe he'd go back to that porch,' I say.

'Are you kidding?' says Johnson. 'That's his normal, everyday reality. I'll bet he's back there, happy as a clam.' And sure enough, there he is, about three-quarters drunk and playing to a bigger crowd.

What does a blues label do when the blues is over? With the help of parent company, Epitaph, who saved them from bankruptcy in 1996, Fat Possum managed to get Solomon Burke, the great deep soul singer, to record a collection of songs written for him by Bob Dylan, Tom Waits, Elvis Costello, Van Morrison, Brian Wilson and others. The album, Don't Give up on Me , won a Grammy and has sold 300,000 worldwide.

Johnson also managed to sign The Black Keys, a lo-fi punk blues band, akin to The White Stripes. Last year was Fat Possum's most successful but it didn't furnish them with much confidence. Solomon Burke was a once-in-a-lifetime coup, they almost lost The Black Keys - and nothing else they released made any real money.

Matthew Johnson and Bruce Watson spend their days scrambling and hustling, trying to cook up new schemes to stay in business. Having released every scrap of music recorded by the late Junior Kimbrough, they are now trying to put together a Kimbrough tribute album. Johnson is trying to persuade the RZA, the hip hop producer from Wu-Tang Clan, to contribute to the new R.L. Burnside remix project, and coax a little more out of Kid Rock. Fat Possum has signed Grandpa Boy, a new band formed by Paul Westerberg from The Replacements. From a bankrupt record label, they have bought a vault of southern rural 1960s blues, so Fat Possum can keep putting out great blues.

'I saw a guy on TV juggling a meat cleaver, a tomato and a bowling ball,' says Johnson. 'That's how I feel most of the time but what else am I going to do? When I started out, I didn't know what I was doing. Now I don't know how to do anything else. I don't have any choice but to carry on and hope a meat cleaver doesn't slice off my toes.'

The Doors / Gloria / Alive, she cried (1) / Oct 1983

We were recently discussing shock tactics of bands, including questionable or offensive lyrics, and how the sensibilities of the public have changed over time, with lyrics which may have been shocking in another era now considered tame or mundane.

Van Morrison's song, as recorded by Them in July of 1964 (with Jimmy Page as a session man!), was considered "morally dangerous" by a number of U.S. radio stations due to the double-entendre lyric "she comes in my room" and they refused to play it.

How could you possibly make this "raunchy" song even more "morally dangerous"? Well, just let someone as "morally dangerous" as the Lizard King have his way with it! I might play Them's version when my kids are in the car, but even with the times a changin' even I'm not yet ready for them to hear today's selection!

But there's much here for us grown-ups (well, "adults" anyway...) to enjoy: besides the much more "powerful" lyrics and Jim Morrison's sexually explosive delivery, I also like The Doors' version better because they take their time with it, stretching it out beyond six minutes...making it last...stringing us along. However, when Van Morrison would perform this, he'd ad-lib lyrics and sometimes stretch it to maybe 15-20 minutes himself. It's just that they didn't (couldn't) lay it down like that for the single. The version he did with John Lee Hooker is twice as long as the original, and I think there's a few live albums out there with versions that are a bit longer, though no recording of a performance that long as far as I know.

Fun factoid: Them may have been the first rock group to use two drummers on a recording with this song and the seven others recorded during those July 1964 sessions.

If you don't have Alive, She Cried don't bother seeking it. It went out of print after the better, two-disc In Concert was released, which includes all of the songs from that album anyway.

\m/ (ò_ó) \m/

Ahir vaig anar amb dos amics a vore Mamma Mia, que te un argument prou endeble, però com que ixen cançons d'ABBA, diguí "wtf, I have to see it". Total, que va d'una xica que neix a una illa grega i la cria sa mare (no són gregues, són anglosaxones), i la xica es casa, però abans vol saber qui és son pare. Així que convida als tres candidats (tres, tres en el terme d'un mes es cepillà la bona senyora) i chuntets canten cançons de Mamma Mia. Incloent-hi a Colin Firth, l'home més sexi sobre la faç de la terra.
He decidit que jo també puc, i vull fer un musical. Però sols el faré si Nat (basilicum), la meua sogra, i Carletes (Chitansito), el meu nòvio i amant, comparteixen l'experiència amb mi.
Podriem fer un refrito, ja que Carletes és el fill d'un butanero sueco.
La pel·lícula ha de contindre les següents escenes, apanyeu-vos com vullgau. Una en la què Carletes s'enamora de mi al vore'm i canta Brown Eyed Girl, de Van Morrison.
Una en la què jo, trista, me'n vaig, però promet que tornaré, cantant Heat Dies Down dels Kaiser Chiefs.
Una en la què Nat canta alguna de Lily Allen, posem Knock 'Em Out, que va sobre tios babosos.

Vamos, més o menys això. Que algú escriga el guió ASAP, que me'n vaig a Anglaterra l'11 de setembre i això ha d'estar acabat i editat.

Besos, besos.

Every year, I make some CDs for my friend Erin and they generally turn out to be the best mixes I ever make. This year, in my not so humble opinion, is not an exception. Since these mixes were a birthday present, they had the formidable task of standing up to the gift of a Growing Pains DVD a few years back.

CD #1: 2008

Note that I don't think any of these songs are from 2008. Whenever I try to make those types of list, they are usually substandard and I wind up throwing them away. I gave it the name of 2008 simply because it was for her birthday in 2008.

1. "Goin' to Acapulco," by Jim James & Calexico

I finally watched Todd Haynes' Bob Dylan biopic I'm Not There a week or so ago and I think it's absolutely incredible and required viewing for any Dylanologist. Just don't think you're going to be watching a straight ahead documentary (the characters are part of the Dylan pathos and mythology not Dylan himself).

Since I already included the incredible scene of this song from the movie in an earlier post, I thought I'd post a full live version of what I am assuming is My Morning Jacket--but I have no clue

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LtbNuL-3aSU&feature=related[/youtube]

2. "The Devil" PJ Harvey

This song is completely haunting and if you don't find yourself going full force into the climax and shaking upon shifting into its' denouement, then I feel sorry for you.



3. "I Never Loved a Man (The Way That I Love You)," Aretha Franklin

4. "Summersend," Misha

Free Download
Misha--Summersend mp3

5. "Roscoe," Midlake

I think this is one of the best songs I have ever heard. Bar none. This group is from Denton, TX.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JDL9bXlwbM4&feature=related[/youtube]

6. "Stuck Between Stations," The Hold Steady

I know, I know. Why not pick a song off of Stay Positive since it's from 2008? Well, I have to be deliberately defiant. Plus, this is my favorite Hold Steady song (other than "Hot Fries" which is already on prior Erin compilations).

7. "Hopscotch Willie," Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks

Finally one from this year! This makes the list because Erin and I were jamming to it on the long road trip between through the deserts between the Holbrook and Flagstaff, AZ.

Malkmus's latest offering, incidentally, is simply fucking powerful and the best guitar record to come out in some time.

8. "I Thought I Saw Your Face Today," She & Him

2 in a row from 2008! For those of you that still don't know, this is actress Zooey Deschanel and full-time musician M. Ward.

Deschanel's voice is like thick honey and she could pour it over me any time she wished!

This is really on here as an excuse for me to look at pictures of Deschanel.





9. "Inflammatory Writ," Joanna Newsom

This is just weird enough to be perfect.

10. "Sweet Lady Genevieve," The Kinks

I think the Kinks are the most underrated band of all time.

11. "Duluth," Mason Jennings

Jennings voice is the real weapon in all of his songs, and I think it's what separates him from the generic crap that he is sometimes compared to (i.e. Jack Johnson). I bet you that Jack Johnson would be a great guy to hang out with, but his music is insufferably boring. John Mayer is a guy that should be ran over repeatedly. Some blues noodling while making yourself look like a circus freak achieving an orgasm does not redeem the endless piles of crap that guy churns out.

But I digress...

12. "Smelling Cigarettes," Fiery Furnances

13. "Just Like a Woman," Charlotte Gainsbourg & Calexico

Gainsbourg's performance in I'm Not There was simply outstanding. So is this rendition of an all time Dylan classic.

14. "Books Written for Girls," Camera Obscura



15. "Oh! Sweet Nuthin'" The Velvet Underground

16. "Some Velvet Morning," Nancy Sinatra & Lee Hazlewood



17. "Hope There's Someone," Antony and the Johnsons

18. "Ballerina," Van Morrison

Well my first post in my Journal, I don’t expect much but I’m willing to give it a shot. Ill write about my month regarding music and I will mostly just write this for myself since let’s face it no one will read this and if you do I’m surprised.
Every month I make a playlist in Winamp of my top 50 favorite songs right now, this list changes a lot over the months and it consists of old and new songs. I do this because I want to keep track of what I have listened to through the years, just for kicks. 
So here it is July’s Playlist
1. Alice Cooper – Posion
2. Bob Marley – Redemtion Song
3. Joss Stone – Headhunter
4. Amy Macdonald – This is Life
5. Ane Brun – The Pyzzle
6. Jeff Buckley – Halleluljah
7. Ashlee Simpson – Outta My Head
8. Cornelis Vreeswijk – Veronica
9. Judas Priest – Turbo Lover
10. Bob Dylan – Sara
11. Shakira – Te Dejo Madrid
12. Judas Priestt – Breaking the law
13. Ani DiFranco – You had time
14. Van Morrison – Gloria
15. Freemasons – Boys
16. Susan Tedeschi – Rock me right
17. Susan Tedeschi – Alone
18. Norah Jones – Sunrise
19. Judas Priest – Living after Midnight
20. Bob Dylan – Knockin’ On heaven’s door
21. Bruce Springsteen – I’m on fire
22. The Offspring – Gone away
23. Bob Dylan – not dark yet
24. Black Sabbath – Paranoid
25. The Knife – Heartbeats
26. Ryan Adams - Wonderwall
27. Norah Jones – The Long way hone
28. Johnny Cash – Hurt
29. Laleh – Live Tomorrow
30. Eva Cassidy – Take Me to the river
31. Amanda Jenssen – Come on
32. Looptroop Rockers – Naive
33. Judas Priest – Worth Fighting for
34. Gwen Stefani – what you waiting for
35. Nirvana – rape me
36. Timbuktu – Jag drar
37. Takida – A point of view
38. La Bounce – Sweet Dreams
39. Fiest - Sea lion Woman
40. Shakira – Whenever….(sahara mix)
41. Lisa Ekhdal - Du sålde våra hjärtan
42. The Sounds – Mine for Life
43. Oh Laura – It Ain’t enough
44. Tomosyasu Hotei – Battle without honour
45. The Sounds – Song with a mission
46. Oh Laura – Release me
47. RHCP – Strip my mind
48. Oasis – Wonderwall
49. 3 Doors Down – loser
50. Public Enemy – He got game



Newcomer



I’m really amazed how this chick went under my raider, I’m talking about Joss stone and i absolutely love her music, i found her album ” Introducing Joss Stone” and I liked the entire album and that my friends is very rare. So you know what I did? I went and bought her album! And I haven’t regretted it since. I also like her view on piracy ( You can read about it here http://torrentfreak.com/joss-stone-piracy-is-brilliant-080625/) she’s sharing a lot of my views. That sharing is the future, but I also think that artists should benefit from their Music, I’d gladly donate money to the artist that I like and want to support. Now I have to settle with buying her album which the music industry will take the biggest bit of and the artist will get the scraps. Not very cool indeed.


STHLM JAZZ
VAN MORRISON

Not many pictures from the concurt since you where absolutly not aloud to take any pictures, the guards went nuts if you did! :D




O’boy man Iv so been looking forward for this. Van Morrison is in Town! And I had the privilege to be there. And the show was brilliant I tell you, and for once was van Morrison ONA GOOD MOD, yes that’s right, you read right haha. He even joddled, and another stunt that didn’t work out as he planed but what the hell, he’s old. And the audience had a laugh so I hope he think it was worth it because I sure did. He joked around as well. He threw in some jokes about the wild wild west and about Billy the kid and Clint Eastwood. He played a lot of my favorite songs for example Gloria ( the last song) and All work and no play. And a few songs that wasn’t that great but what the hell. He also sang a cover of Pink Floyd’s Comfortably numb together with one of he’s back singers ( it was really nice and a big surprise). Plus a song from he’s upcoming album, the song was Behind the ritual ( it was decent) but who knows I might grow on me.

... give or take a few where alcohol got in the way!

Headliners
Alter Bridge
Ash
Bill Bailey
Brand New
Kelly Clarkson
Joe Cocker
Eric Clapton
Evanescence
Funeral for a Friend
GST Cardinals
The Hoosiers
Elton John
Wilko Johnson
Kelly Jones
Kaiser Chiefs x 2
The Killers
Little Man Tate x 2
McFly
Milburn x 2
James Morrison
Paolo Nutini
Oasis x 2
Queen + Paul Rodgers
Red Hot Chili Peppers
Paul Rodgers
Scouting for Girls
Stereophonics
The Twang
Van Morrison
Paul Weller

Supports
!!!
A Static Lullaby
The Answer
Bullet for My Valentine
Graham Coxon
The Dead 60s
The Draytones x 2
The Enemy
The Faders
Catherine Feeny
Liam Gerner
Gratitude
Ben Harper
Little Man Tate
The Little Ones
Logan
Look See Proof
My Awesome Compilation
The Next Nine Years
Polysics
Robert Cray Band
The Script
Seether
Shack
Claire Sproule
The Stands
Joel Stoker
Super Furry Animals
We Are Scientists

Local Artists
Alvarez Kings (www.myspace.com/alvarezkings)
Dead World Leaders (www.myspace.com/deadworldleaders)
The Hosts (www.myspace.com/thehosts)
Ketamine Kim
The Magdelaine Cays x 5 (www.myspace.com/themagdelainecays)
Oh My Word! (www.myspace.com/ohmywordmuzik)
Pink Sharabang x 3 (www.myspace.com/pinksharabang)
Pirouettes (www.myspace.com/pirouettesuk)
Pretty Ripped (www.myspace.com/prettyripped)
Lance Pursey
Reminiscence
RepoMen (www.myspace.com/repomenuk)
Silent Film Project (www.myspace.com/asilentfilmproject)
Smiling Ivy (www.myspace.com/smilingivyuk)
The Stoops (www.myspace.com/thestoopsband)
The Theories (www.myspace.com/thetheoriessheffield)
Tudors (www.myspace.com/tudorsmusic)
Weekend at Bukowskis (www.myspace.com/weekendatbukowskis)

Random
And I can remember seeing Blue somewhere along the line, I think it was some sort of 'festival'. I was at the front and distinctly remember sticking my tongue out at Duncan James - he didn't look impressed.

iTunes meme

Total Time: 23 days:22 hours:56 minutes:35 seconds 55.75G
Total Tracks: 7955

Sort by Artist
First song: Too Sick to Pray - Alabama 3
Last song: Not Enough - The 88
Huh, I guess numbers are sorted to the end...

Sort by Song Title
First song: A-Punk - Vampire Weekend
Last song: 999,999 - Nine Inch Nails

Sort by Album Title
First song: Absolutely Fabulous (7" Mix) - Pet Shop Boys
Last song: Sleep Don't Weep - Damien Rice from the album 9

Sort by Song Time
Shortest Song: Segue - Carmen Electra
Longest Song: blahThe Black Cat - Diamanda Galás (a reading of Edgar Allen Poe) Closed on Account of Rabies: Poems and Tales of Edgar Allan Poe (disc 1: Burglars Singing in the Cellar)
There are a few longer tracks, but they're Podcasts and such

Top 10 Most Played Songs
1. Blue Clouds - Mercury Rev
2. Where Is My Mind? - Pixies
3. Condition of the Heart - Prince & the Revolution
4. A-Punk - Vampire Weekend
5. God of Wine - Third Eye Blind
6. Lithium - Nirvana
7. Running Up That Hill - Placebo
8. Into the Mystic - Van Morrison
9. My Ally - Victoria Williams
10. Something I Can Never Have - Nine Inch Nails

First five songs that come up on Shuffle
1. All Day, All Night - Prince
2. ABC - Michael Jackson
3. Horses in My Dreams - PJ Harvey
4. Walking on Thin Ice (Pet Shop Boys extended dance-mix) - Yoko Ono
5. Get it while you can - Janis Joplin & the Full Tilt Boogie Band

Search...
"sex" - how many songs come up?: 64
"love" - how many songs come up?: 384
"you" - how many songs come up?: 696
"death" - how many songs come up?: 59
"hate" - how many songs come up?: 27
"wish" - how many songs come up?: 10
"blue" - how many songs come up?: 165
"red" - how many songs come up?: 167
"heaven" - how many songs come up?: 38
"hell" - how many songs come up?: 58
"devil" - how many songs come up?: 19
"angel" - how many songs come up?: 52