The Viking of Sixth Street, Old Joy, The Latest McSweeney's, and Ginab

As you might know I'll be visiting ginab this week, so I will be even more negligent in my blogging than I already am. But before I transfer my focus entirely to this upcoming trip, I wanted to tell you about a couple of things. First, here's Moondog:



Moondog is Luis Hardin, a musical prodigy who went blind when he was in his teens. In the early 1940s, after having studied all kinds of musical instruments, Moondog moved to New York and worked as a street musician, partly to raise the money to have his music transcribed from braille. He was a conspicuous figure on New York's sixth street not only because of his unusual handmade instruments and gorgeous compositions, but also because he wore clothing he made himself, including a furry hat with horns. Someone at work brought in this CD, The German Years, and now I'm completely hooked.




Here's a sample from one of Moondog's compositions called "Bird's Lament," which he (Moondog, I mean) wrote for Charlie Parker. I couldn't find MP3s of any other tracks on The German Years, which is a pity, because each song is unique -- "Bird's Lament" demonstrates only a fraction of Moondog's range. Each piece conjures a particular mood, though Moondog has a singular vision. It's as if Moondog were writing songs meant to communicate his psychological history -- we hear a soul as expansive as the harmonies he creates (using very few instruments to do so, mind you); fascinating rhythms that don't simply mark time because they, too, are melodic and serve to provide shifts and moods; and songs that come across, sometimes, as powerfully totemic, I guess because they often borrow from European folk. Many of his songs are mournful, and they seem to be about nature and life and death. Some pieces are rhapsodic in that they can sound loose enough to have been partially improvised (though I don't believe they were), and rhapsodic also because they're most certainly driven by an enthusiasm for their subjects. Perhaps you hear lamentation, Charlie Parker, and New York all at once when you listen to the sample. I do.

For those of you who've accused me of being extremely romantic I leave the lyrics from my favorite song on this album:

HIGH ON A ROCKY LEDGE

High on a rocky ledge lives a Mädel, Edelweiß.
She has a shadow, lovely as lace, and cold as ice.
High on a rocky ledge, I pledged my love to her.
Ev´ry time I climb up to Paradise.
How many times I´ve been up to see her, goodness knows,
Huffing and puffing, dressed in the warmest climbing clothes.
How many dances would be taken in my
Hopeless pursuit of the Schnee-Mädel-Edelweiß.
Then spoke a spirit, "If you would win your Lady Love,
There´s only one way: fall to your death from high above.
You will begin to grow in snow beside the one
You have waited for to be mated with."
Now, I´m an Edel, vice to my Mädel, Edelweiß.
Dying to be with her wasn´t any sacrifice.
we´re so deliriously happy on your ledge
Where I pledge my love to my Lady Fair.
You who are climbing breathless to see me and my love.
Snow flowers growing fonder on Lover´s Ledge above.
If you´ve the yen to pluck, then pluck us both,
For we who have lived as one, wish to die as one.

Isn't that dreamy?!

Next, I'd like to let you know about this great movie I saw with Matt, Byron, and Alan. It's called Old Joy, and it stars my absolute favorite songwriter, Will Oldham, who I'll be seeing at The Great American next Monday night!



Will Oldham's the guy stringing the guitar. Matty has a lot to say on his own blog about this movie, so I'll just give you the short version. First, it's excellent. Second, I think it's about how the quality of same-sex friendships change over time.

In Old Joy, two guys who haven't seen each other for a while go camping together. But something has come between them. One friend is now married and has a child on the way, while the other has remained single and uprooted. The single friend tries to revive their bond, but clearly there's been a tradeoff which has severed their former bond, and now they're bonded only by mutual memories and wistfulness.

Man, did I ever sympathize with this rift! I try to live as though there's a way around it, and I think maybe there is -- but only if friends stay in close contact. That's not always possible. Those of us who get older but don't start families wind up drifting on the fringes, I guess. Those who marry up might become a bit insular as their priorities change. You, of course, might not feel the way these two men feel. But I find something very honest about this film.

Finally, run to your local bookstore, find the literary magazines, and pick up the new McSweeney's! Read the latest Arthur Bradford story, in which a group of friends driving to a country wedding are flagged down by a man standing by the side of the road. He's been bitten by a snake, or at least he thinks he has. . . It's GREAT!

Okay, then. I'm off to my old stomping grounds, where I hear it may be snowing. I might get to see ginab work her magic with her writing students, spend some time with some good people, and enjoy that funky small-urban-town atmosphere.

See you soon!