Posts tagged music
Sunset Gunshots
“I dedicate this song to girls here tonight.” Dennis Wilson singing “You Are So Beautiful” written by Wilson and Billy Preston.
Nico.
Dennis Wilson 1968 Record Mirror interview: “I Live With 17 Girls.”
“We met two girls hitch-hiking. One of them was pregnant. We gave them a lift, and a purse was left in the car. About a month later, near Malibu, I saw the pregnant girl again, only this time she’d had her baby. I was overjoyed for her and it was through her that I met all the girls. I told them about our involvement with the Maharishi and they told me they too had a guru, a guy named Charile who’d recently come out of jail after 12 years. His mother was a hooker, his father was a gangster, he’d drifted into crime but when I met him I found he had great musical ideas. We’re writing together now. He’s dumb, in some ways, but I accept his approach and have learnt from him.”
“I had all the rich status symbols — Rolls Royce, Ferrari, home after home. Then I woke up, gave away 50 to 60 percent of my money. Now I live in one small room with one candle, and I’m happy, finding myself.”
The Manson connection was brief and intense but often too overstated. I love trusting, troubled and talented “Dumb Angel” Dennis. Beach Boy, Two-Lane Blacktop and his masterpiece,”Pacific Ocean Blue.”
(via uncanny)
Porter & Nudie.
Dylan.
Young Gram Parsons. (via convo on cool)
Jerry Lee Lewis.
Rest in Peace, George Jones.
Tina Turner.
Jesus Christ, before he joined Emerson, Lake and Palmer.
While organizing my LPs today, I came across this one. Yes indeed, Palance sings. And then… I found this clip. Jack Palance on The Porter Wagoner Show? Jesus has been reading my diary. Or the devil. Not sure…
Suge Knight when he played for the Los Angeles Rams during the 1987 NFL players’ strike. He played two games.
Ike and Tina. And Tina! (via dirtylowdown)
Hell yes Hound Dog Taylor!
A wistful memory, making this song all the more poignant: When I was 14, I was upset with some older kid I had a crush on. I ditched school, smoked pot with the neighbor and went home. My stepdad was there early and I was paranoid he’d know I was high and out of class. I think he could tell and didn’t care. Instead he told me to sit in the living room. He put on this song and we both sat there in silence. After that blast of John Paul Jones’ Hammond organ and Robert Plant started singing, I lost all fear and my mind wandered to young things that made me feel so very mature. And damn, it’s a good song when you’re paranoid (I can’t handle pot now.) He sat on the couch and closed his eyes. I realized he was ditching school too. He taught Ethics and specialized in Chaos Theory, which I could never fully undersand, but in addition to thinking of liar Dave, I wondered if the “non-integer dimension” was creating a “strange attractor.” Something like that. Or if he was just pissed at my mom.
