Monday, December 10, 2012

A Cautionary Tale + Best Of 2012.....Dan Melchior's 'Excerpts (& Half Speeds)' LP!

It sure has been a long year, ain't it? I mean, of course it's the same amount've days as most every other one, but the events whats transpired over the course of 2012 just made it more of a slog than any in recent memory. '77 was close. That one begun w/a lot've fuss when Jomo Kenyatta disbanded the Kenyan parliament (not all heart attacks is accidental, if you catch my drift), seen the rise of the Sex Pistols & Punk at large, then closed w/Ted Bundy escapin through the window of a courthouse. Which then sent me on a wild goose chase most've early 78. But the times now just seem more tryin. Folks ain't as hard scrabble neither. I just done spent a good spell back up to Phila house sittin at Siltbreeze HQ & man has it changed there. Now that neighborhood is like a goddamn baby factory! I reckon there's some highfalutin grade school nearby what's worth a shit-& free-so's all these smug folks' invaded 'n settled in so they's precious seed can get a jump start on lily-liverness. In fact a nest of'em has moved into the bldg occupied by Capt'n Siltbreeze, in fact, right over his proverbial head. And the noise from would try the patience of a saint. Finally I couldn't take no more. It was a little after 7am on a Tues. & I went to knockin. I got the baldin husband, who opened the door a crack & gave me the evil eye. "Yes", he asked me sideways. The one thing about all these folks is that ALL of'em think they's shit don't stink. "Hey bud, how about takin it down a notch up here, huh? I mean, it ain't even 8am & you's got the whole bdlg shakin". Them eyes've his got all big as he looked me up 'n down. He was definitely not expectin this that mornin. "And just who are you?" he sniffed indignantly. I explained to him I was downstairs & while I weren't no long term guest, the noise comin outta his abode was inexcusable at such an early hr. That got his dander up & he opened the door proper to do some lecturin. "Look here, we have a 5 & 3 yr old & this can't be helped. How dare you come up here & accuse us of making undue noise! These are little children! Why, they are the embodiment of innocence itself. I should know, they are of my loin. Nothing is denied them.No, the fault lies with you. If you are to remain in this bldg then you are going to have to get used to these children-along w/my wife & I-being about to do whatever we want, when we want, where we want. WE HAVE CHILDREN! YOU DO NOT! Am I making myself clear"? By now he's done strutted out toe to toe w/me, as though w/this proclamation a line had been drawn in the sand. He'd had his say & now is givin it alls he's got on the macho end, glarin into my eyes, waitin (I reckon) for an apology & then me to turn heel for to walk away. But I's learned long ago to always bring a gun to a knife fight. "Mister", I said evenly, "you don't know me at all. Ain't got no idea who I am, what I'm capable of, nothin. Let me tell you this; I could come in here & eradicate the lot of you. In your sleep, wide wake, it don't matter. There ain't shit you could do. And not only that, but afterwards I could have the whole thing covered up. No investigation whatsoever. Just some burglary gone wrong.But I am a man of compromise. So here's my counter; you put a muzzle on them 2 & learn to respect the fact that other people live around here or I will have some associates drop by who''ll take'em out, sever off they's legs just below the knee, rip out them little tongues, then relocate'em to Bombay where they'll spend the rest of their days sittin side by side on rusted dollies, raspin at strangers in a street bazaar to buy cobra's & bindi's. This could happen as early And again, you is powerless to stop it. Know why? Cause I was never here.This conversation never happened. Go ahead, play me. But I assure you-things will get quiet here, either by my way, or yours. Are we good"? Now at some point right around when I said "sever" alls the color drained outta his face. And by the end of my modest proposal he had the shakes. Not full on exorcism style, but pronounced enough I's thought maybe he might be epileptic.Plus he'd pissed himself & a puddle of urine had collected around his feet & was slowly makin it's way towards mine. So I pointed the ol' finger pistol at him, cocked my thumb, smiled 'n said, "your move, corn cob". Then I ambled down them steps w/a song in my heart, convinced that now we really understood one another. You could have the brain of a chicken & still know that what followed weren't pretty. Through them rickety floorboards I could hear the cursin 'n cryin, shrieks of panic, the whole gambit.Seemed the least I could do in their moment of harsh realization was give'em some privacy. So's I ambled over to the cafe 'cross the street to wait it out. Plus it had a nice window what gave me a vantage to keep my eyes peeled. A slick dick like that fella, he might get all badass 'n call the cops. So if he played that card I weren't nowhere to be found. But just then I seen the mousey little wife come runnin out, haulin ass down the street, the soles of them knock off Wellingtons almost smokin from her feverish pitter-pats. She got behind the wheel of a late model Honda Accord, peeled out, come around 'n backed it smack dab up to the front door.Then her & Mr. Clean got to throwin all manner've belongings in, hell bent for leather they was. Once it was full, he came flyin out w/a brat under each arm, tossed'em in the back seat, jumped in the passenger side & off they sped, eyes wide as saucers ('n damp to boot). I got's to tell you's, it was one of the funniest sights I's seen in an age. Shit, it still makes me laugh. And normally I wouldn't take such liberties as to spook folks in the private sector. But them bunch was beyond annoyin. They's reeked of the dreaded ENTITLEMENT. Let me tell y'all something; just because you's dropped a load or two in a baby machine don't make you's The Royal Family. So get a grip. You want entitlement? Sink a submarine w/your fists. Assassinate a drug lord w/a sneeze. Surf the Bering Sea. Then you can go baby-daddy the fuck out of life. Don't believe it? The just stop by the estate sometime, pard, get a gander from the scrapbooks. There is proof in evidence. And my 'mommies' is legion. But enough about some snivellin shitbags w/strollers. I's is so glad to be back to Florida, it ain't even funny. It's all OLD PEOPLE here. I love it! Nothin but golf, sun, dominoes, cocktails.....hard to beat. An I get throwed some whenever I want, so no complaints there neither. In fact, things is so copasetic I's decided to get a jump on the Best've 12 list.For once I's even made notes! Course they's all in code, but hey, that's life. Anyway, I'll be tossin'em out on here over the next few wks. While I weren't able to have my ear to the ground as in the days of yore, 2012 seen some solid entries. Surely more'n I could ever account for. But as the great Chesterton once wrote "It is the presence of mind that makes me unaware of everything else". Him 'n Sam Esh woulda made a fine pair. But one thing (or label to be precise) that I's keeps up on is releases bearin the Kye imprint. And this year seen half a dozen or so pearls spilled out before the swine. The Shadow Ring's 'Remains Unchanged' is surely the pinnacle of the lot & it was a fun ride on the wayback machine, but the lp I's keep hittin up again is Dan Melchior's 'Excerpts (& Half Speeds)'. Some might've opined that this collection of oozin, warbled, non-specific brain suet is the last thing they'd expect on Dan's menu. As though he's still some Medway ham 'n egger, destined for all eternity to gnash out Chuck Berry chords to men-of-a-certain-age who don bomber jackets. And cuffed jeans! I don't know who said this 1st-maybe it was me- but diversity will fuck placidity in the ear every time. Diabolically detuned + splendidly deranged, 'Excerpts' is like a 2st Century bookend to Richard Earl's underrated masterpiece 'The Egg Store Ilk', which saw the light of day back in an era unblemished by celiac.So you's see, this kind of singularity don't trip down the pike every day. Dullards 'n tofu snuffers (occasionally the same embodiment) whine that Dan 'puts out' too many records. I for one cannot wrap my noggin around such a vacuous statement. That said, I ain't bothered to count how many he's done this yr. But then I never counted the amount've Sun Ra records what got cranked out annually & I don't remember no one ever givin Sonny shit for bein prolific. But if you's can only buy one, this be it. You might say in the vastness of Melchior's discography, this is his 'Strange Strings'. All's I know that when it's playin, my gin always get's a bit pinker. And who don't like a little more color in they's life? So's three cheers to that! Check it here;

No comments: