Fresh Friday Music, Nostalgia Style

Good morning, gheorghies. Good morning, lescoolies. No, that wasn't your browser on the blink again.

More good music to throw your way for a weekend. My friend Ned and his video design chum worked some real magic on a tune that conjures up old images for me.

I've highlighted my old growin-up buddy Ned Henry 'round these parts here before. In March of last year, his dad passed at age 95, a couple of years after his mom had left us unexpectedly. His folks -- Bucky and Barbara -- were truly amazing... 15-20 years older than most of my friends' folks, they were grandparently, congenial, hospitable, in on every joke, and always quick to whip up a mean breakfast when I woke up on their couch with a hangover at age 17. They seemed never to age, and my memories of them in their 80's and 90's conjure nearly identical images of them in their 50's and 60's when they lovingly took care of "The Whit."

In 2016, five of us from the old gang took Ned's mom, a William and Mary alum from way back, to a Jimmy Buffett (Ned's fave) show in a limo. Say what you will about Buffett, but that experience -- especially now knowing what lay in store soon thereafter, is a memory we all will continue to treasure.  Especially because COVID stole our good buddy Bill a few years later. 

At the show, I offered to hoist Mrs. B up onto my shoulders so she could see, but I was shot down. I mean, you can see how diminutive she was!

Plastic cup chalices...

She frequently chugged around town in a baby blue 1965 Mustang with a big smile. You saw her coming a long way away, and that was probably for the best, safety-wise. 

Anyway, this year Ned and his siblings took on the job of finally going through the old house and his folks' belongings. Unenviable a task for reasons of sadness as well as burden; when I asked Ned how long his family had lived there, he pondered, "Since the Kennedy administration... maybe Eisenhower." Whew. It just sold last month... God bless the new owners and the work ahead of them.

Just before the house went on the market, I woke up one June morning to a belated flurry of texts from Ned and his little brother, both back in town to sift through Henry trash and treasures, imploring me to come meet them out in the old neighborhood. They had been boozing on gin and tonics and blaring the Violent Femmes. They texted that flare sometime after midnight. Somewhat surprisingly, I was already sacked out and caught it on the flip side. 

But that didn't stop me from listening to them wax nostalgic and a bit plaintive the next morning, and right thereafter, I sat down and scratched out some lyrics to a song I then offered up if he had any interest. To his amazing credit, as soon as he got back to New Orleans he had figured out the music and was laying down the track. He tweaked my words just a touch and made me feel really good about the thought. He's a great dude. 

Ned released the track a few weeks ago and had a Crescent City cohort expertly compile a video with footage from the old neighborhood, Ned's NOLA home, and some photos of the old days. At the 1:46 and 2:54 marks you can see a few long-lost pics of a big galoot with his whole life ahead of him...

Anyway, if you feel like it, check out Ned, old Unit 11 (the Mustang), and our collaboration in this here music video.

Apocalypse Now: Fat Tuesday Feeling So Thin

Sometimes something nice comes together out of nowhere.

Last Wednesday

My friend from all the way back Ned (who has lived in New Orleans for 25 years now): 

Just throwing a song idea your way. I remember every other Mardi Gras thinking to myself: everywhere else in America it's just another Tuesday. Well, this year Mardi Gras in New Orleans is pretty much like everywhere else because Mardi Gras is for the most part canceled. I was wondering if you had any inspiration for a song exploring that feeling. I have yet to sit down and write anything but wanted to share the idea with you.

Me:

Hey Ned! That's a terrific idea. I will give it some thought. Great one.

Thursday

Ned:

Awesome. I'll see if I have some music. There's actually a song I've been working on that might work for this. I've got a rough version of the music on Dropbox. It may be too mellow, a Mardi Gras song maybe needs more hopeful pep in it.

Me:

Listening now. Great stuff, dude. Really nice listen. And frankly the loss of Mardi Gras seems to conjure a slow and sad song. This could work... Giving it a few listens and I'll try to come up with some words.

Saturday

Me:

Sending you my take on the lyrics. See what you think. Went back and forth on the chorus. Settled on an allusion to it not being Fat Tuesday.

Ned:

Damn, dude. The right mix of clever and heartstring pulling. Thinking of trying to get this done and released by Tuesday. And also make a video of the song. May be too ambitious. 

Yesterday

Just Another Tuesday
(Ned Henry/Les Coole)

3 rocks there smack / in my Sazerac / is the only float today
4 beads of sweat / from the mignonette / are the only beads in play
Magazine is empty / And there ain’t a soul around
It’s just another Tuesday / And I’m uptown feelin’ down

CHORUS
Lord, it feels so thin
Please bring it back again

Fairly soon / this doubloon / will be back on the shelf
I’m the King / of not one thing / A krewe unto myself
I’m a one-man carnival / and it’s all neutral ground
It’s just another Tuesday / and I’m uptown feeling down

CHORUS

BRIDGE
Ain’t never seen this town this way / it feels so strange
What I took for granted / that’s all gonna change

No parades / no hand grenades / the Quarter’s one-eighth filled
The good times rolled / they’re all on hold / all broke up, my go cup spilled
The Ash comes in tomorrow / with the tolling of the bells
But today’s just another Tuesday / just like everywhere else

CHORUS

The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas: Day Eleven, All the Filler That Was Fit to Print

On the eleventh day of Gheorghemas, Big Gheorge gave to me

Eleven Months of Gheorgheness

10 Awesome Auction Items and Much Much More!
Nine things worth dancing over
3 Genetic Tests on day 8.5
Eight Things I'm Thankful For
Seven Books for Reading
Six Top Episodes of Ted Lasso
Five Beers and Tunes
Four Resolutions
Three Gheorghemas Gifts to Give Yourself
Two Stones of Weight Loss (Your Mileage May Vary)

and Running Gags with Quatro Kitties

I got a text from my man Z earlier in the week, informing me that The New York Times had purchased The Athletic for $550m. I told him I'd sell G:TB for 0.1% of that amount (we're more profitable, to boot). "$550k split 6-9 ways is a nice windfall," he said. "We really do have good content. When we try."

That "when" is doing a lot of work, but he's not wrong. Let's take a trip back through the first 11 months of the Gheorghian year, shall we?

January

We dropped a solid 251 posts this year, coming off 258 in 2020. The pandemic, it seems, is good for content creation, if nothing else. The first month of the year was our most prolific, with 27.

Z and I started the year with musical collages about very different topics.

Then we went on a run of political and policy commentary that started OBX Dave's endorsement of universal basic income and ended with Z's thoughts on the January 6 fuckery.

The Hoff put a bunch of stuff up for auction.

TR lost a bunch of weight.

Derrick Henry got the Z treatment.

Whitney copped to being a fornicator.

My uncle Hoopa retired.

Squeaky's first post was a heart-stopper.

I come from witches.

OBX Dave wrote on the Baseball Hall of Fame.

February

23 posts in the year's second month. Robust.

Randy Newman bit us again.

TR is a mathsplainer and his boys are gross.

We had some fun Mardi Gras content, which included a Les Coole/Ned Henry original.

Whitney's annual Rock and Roll Hall of Fame post dropped.

Kouign Amman for all my men.

OBX Dave tilted at Alden Capital's windmills.

March

We liked doing 23 posts in a month so much that we ran it back.

NJ Dave finally posted something.

First Wrenball post of the year was desultory. As the entire year of Wrenball has been.

More Les, this time with a Hampton Coliseum memorial.

I pulled off the second greatest feat of prognostication in history.

Fashion is Dumb made a triumphant return, as did the Teej.

Hot Diggity Dog!

April

We worked pretty hard in the first quarter, so we slowed it down to a walk - 19 posts for the month.

Daniel Bard overcame the yips.

A counterfactual, and the comments are fun.

Taylor Swift killed Prince Philip.

Z and Whit took very different approaches to writing about the COVID.

Whit showed us his homework.

Team TR made a decision to make a move.

The prologue episode of Rob Lasso went live. This series of recurring posts and the events that inspired them were among the most fun things I've done in the Gheorgheverse.

As did the first episode. (Not gonna link to all of them, promise.)

May

Just started drinking while working on this. It's grueling. We'll see how that affects the rest of the post. Of which there were 22 in May.

May 3 is a holiday of holidays, and thanks to Whit, we know it.

If we were to calculate the ratio of quality stuff to filler for each member of the G:TB staff, OBX Dave would rank first by a considerable measure. Here, he wrote about poop.

The NYT Mini makes me anxious.

Z won the Pinewood Derby.

OBX Dave is (was?) a callous douchebag.

Nate Knight belongs in the league.

In addition to being gross, TR's kid is a dickhead. I like that kid.

We lost Eric Carle.

Squeaky wrote about his first ten concerts. I'm confident I couldn't tell you what mine were.

June

Lotta filler in June. Must be a summer thing. Still, 25 posts made it our second most prolific month of the year.

Zman took us to a Jerzy wedding. There was ass clapping.

The first NOTify dropped.

Whitney taught us about being drunk. Not for the first time.

The season finale of Rob Lasso was a bit of a downer.

Z hipped us to ticks.

Tales from the dugout, courtesy of TR.

Z learned to drive.

I went to Boulder, looking for answers.

Like Voldemort, jorts are back. Voldejorts, anyone?

July

We eased off the gas and fully into summer in July. 21 posts, most of them ephemeral. Nonetheless:

G:TB offered its first NIL deal.

First WCSAGD of the year was for Juan Carlos. It's a beaut.

Towards a Unified Theory of Fuckery.

Z opined on gluttony.

Rootsy revealed an important secret.

August

Twenty-one more posts during the dog days. Good job, good effort.

TR walked it off.

Gotta post at least one Gheorgasbord in the 'best of' recap.

Z wants your shoe game to be better.

The first WFCSGAS went live. Poor Z got stuck with Norwich.

OBX Dave is the only one amongst us qualified to write about Miles Davis. Because he's old.

Requiem for a...cottage?

Cuisine is stupid.

@mandypatinktok @alaska_webb thank you for finding us and sharing this! ✨ Sending big love and light to you and yours. More in comments. #grieving #cancer #dads ♬ original sound - Mandy Patinkin and Kathryn G

Azzi Fudd, Paige Bueckers, and us. 

TR moves to Colorado, shits himself, feels right at home.

September

You know how when you're doing interval work and you bust your ass and then rest for a while? September was like the latter, a year-low 16 posts.

Miami Vice was a great show.

Whit brought the heat, sociologically speaking.

We were introduced to Big Dunc.

There was a lot of tennis (and some Tennys) around these parts during the U.S. Open. Z told us about Dylan Alcott.

My wife and I went to see Harry Styles. It was awesome.

October

A modest increase in level of effort, with 19 posts to start the final quarter of the year.

TR doesn't care for constipated princesses, Evan Hansen.

McRib, chomp.

OBX Dave considered the cephalopod.

There's a fucking world cup for balloon keepie-uppie. And it's amazing.

TR taught us about pet-eating coyotes.

Someone wrote about testicle baths. I'll give you one guess.

Pretty much the G:TB Prime Directive right here.

November

We were running out of gas, friends. 17 meager posts. Well, a few of them weren't meager.

The world lost the RemDog. Tooth hurty.

Up the Teej!

Z's hate for Roger Goodell is cathartic.

I am pessimistic about the future of the Republic. 

Whit celebrated Phil Collins. We all learned a few things.

And the big finale

That's a fitting coda to another trip around the sun. If you've made it this far, you're probably a bit drained, and so I'll not wax too lengthy. As the years pass, I'm more and more appreciative of this place, even if it isn't worth $550m - at least not in material terms. Ernie Johnson's message is one to live by: love you, too, Gheorghies.

The Twelve Days of Gheorghe-mas, Day Twelve

On the twelfth day of Gheorghe-mas, Big Gheorghe gave to me:


Twelve Appreciations ♫
Eleven Drinks and Rambling
(Way More Than) Ten Highlights
Nine Clips You Tubing
Eight Men A Milking
Seven Balls A-Bouncin' (ngs)
Six Rules Worth Knowing
Five Golden Rings
Four-gone Conclusions
Three Saluki Tallies
Two Recurring Features
And a Doofus Dancing (hee, hee)

The Twelve Days of Gheorghemas, Volume II, has included a couple of posts that mirrored ones from last year’s G-mas. With 2009 on the heavy wane, I’ll add another – a new batch of the things I have appreciated and enjoyed over the past 365, as once again set to the backdrop of my favorite songs released this year.

[Last year I employed a cool, new website to enable you to hear the tunes with the click of a button. At least one of the bands I highlighted let it be known that doing so was a copyright violation, so to save G:TB’s legal counsel some trouble, I won’t do that again. Where available, I’ve linked the songs, but for most of them, if you want to hear them in toto, I’d go to blip.fm, enter them into the search bar, and listen. (Related true story: Toto’s “Rosanna” was written about Rosanna Arquette. Check it out.)]

It was a superb year in music, at least according to this guy. Seemed to start slowly, but by year’s end, I had a lot of trouble paring the list of my ’09 favorites down to fit on one CD. As always, please continue to share your own recommendations for new music in the comments of Gheorghe.

On a personal note, it was not such a superb year in my life. Without delving into too much Dear Diary detail, a good woman and I parted ways last winter, and nothing’s quite been the same in my life, for better or for worse. As more than one of you can attest to, such life-changing events leave a scar. As the parents among the G:TB family can attest to, preserving the peace in little ones’ lives is a daily battle. Put those elements together, and the quest for the elusive grail that’s known as “happiness” can be of Arthurian proportions. Fortunately, I have a mantra that appears before me on regular visits: “life would be better if we all took ourselves a little less seriously.” And I do. As such, it’s been easier to appreciate the good things in 2009 than ever before.

And away we go…

Madness, “That Close”

Cracker, “Sunrise in the Land of Milk and Honey”

I love the Washington Redskins. I love the New York Mets. Both franchises seem to enjoy punishing me for such sentiments lately. Though the ‘Skins have been yanked off local TV (see the comments from the last post), I’ll find a way to give their ’09 campaign the Viking funeral it deserves. Bleakness abound in both of my favorite teams’ camps. But out of nowhere, the College of William & Mary in Virginia’s athletic programs have proven an unlikely salve to my ocular agony. First, the Tribe football team comes “that close” to moving to the I-AA championship, winning a lot of good ballgames along the way. Second, the men’s hoops program has risen from the asses and . . . well, I won’t count any chickens, but we’ve garnered more entertainment out of 11 games this season than in that many seasons during the late 80’s and early 90’s. It’s the land of milk and honey when all was getting pretty sour in my world.

Similarly, just when I was lamenting the early-year dearth of top-shelf musical releases, out of absolutely nowhere came my two favorite albums of 2009. Cracker’s been one of my top bands for 15 years, and I’ve always dug what Madness did in the 80’s, but I have to say I didn’t see either of these coming. Start to finish great records, what little press both bands are getting for them has been high praise. Of note is that neither has an obvious single to point to as the best song, and the songs I selected, while my favorites, aren’t highlighted in any review I’ve read. Cracker is kick-ass guitar rock, Madness is hooky Brit-ska-pop. Just like you remember.

Gordon Gano & the Ryans, “Hired Gun”

We also got introduced to some new music by G:TB’s latest hired gun, the Z-man. Zoltron Zoltan, Esquire, joined the force this year and brought a deeper shade of soul to our airwaves. If nothing else, he helped us rewrite the Gheorghe record books for posts in one year. We also got some excellent commentary out of Dan, who stopped lurking and came out to play, Timmy Marls, the Wheelies, and a slew of other readers. To say we appreciate everyone playing along with our inanity is an understatement.

Grizzly Bear, “Two Weeks”

Two weeks is roughly what Rob and I ballparked for the shelf-life of first little blog concept, a baseball-themed endeavor called Misery Loves Company. After seven years, Rob is writing MLC’s obit today, as we ran our course and then some over there. It was a good run while it lasted, and more pertinently, our ability to actually see it through paved the way for Gheorghe: The Blog to get out of Rob’s head and into the ’sphere. RIP, MLC.

Elvis Perkins In Dearland, “Shampoo”

Here’s to technology bettering my listening pleasure. Yep, there are dozens of salutes to the decade’s electronic advances in your local ragsheets this week, but for me personally, it can be summed up succinctly by this song. I went to eMusic, where I have a monthly membership. The site recommended this artist based on my previous downloads. I snagged a few tunes based on reader reviews and ratings. I threw the iPod on shuffle, and out of 24,000, this one came up along the way. Played it again, and then again. One of my most listened tunes of the year, and no way does it reach me without Gates, Jobs, and their ilk working a lot harder than I do. Thanks.

The Avett Brothers, “Kick Drum Heart”

Wilco, “I'll Fight”

Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band, “Nikorette”

Ryan Bingham, “Tell My Mother I Miss Her So”

U2, “No Line On The Horizon”

I mentioned this one last year, and I’m glad to reiterate it: live music makes me happy. Seeing Wilco always brings it, but seeing them with Rob and other friends at Wolf Trap and having them unearth my favorite tune of theirs on a drunken Wednesday night? Yeah. Seeing the unheralded Ryan Bingham in a tiny bar? Seeing the Avett Brothers in a small local opera house?? Seeing U2 for the first time, and having general admission field passes? Seeing Devo?? It was all great. Social Distortion, Band of Horses, Drive-By Truckers, Indecision, Cracker, and everyone we saw at JazzFest. I don’t think I have anything on the docket yet for 2010, but in due time . . .

Levon Helm, “Growin' Trade”

It's my thought that Levon is telling us what ever became of Virgil Caine with this track off his fantastic new record. The song tells the story of a farmer who’s had to adjust to these tough times by growing the Teej Tobacco. I heartily endorse Levon Helm’s new stuff, and I heartily enjoy the other stuff, and whatever you do to get you through these days and nights and put a smile on your face.

Neko Case, “Red Tide”

M. Ward, “Never Had Nobody Like You”

Ladies, we still greatly appreciate your presence here. Official G:TB Sweetheart Shlara, KQ, Sammy, guys posing as their girlfriends/wives, and any other female who invades our Zeke Mowatt locker room here. (Especially you lurking ladies afraid to make your presence felt . . . and you know who you are.) Stick around, won’t you?

Thao with the Get Down Stay Down, “Cool Yourself”

I appreciate that not every person who went to William & Mary is a total wiener. Thriller dances, he-she HC queen, and dweeby photos notwithstanding.

Greasetruck, “The Bear”

Ned Henry, “20”

Random Idiots, “Dear Ozzy (Thanks for Nothing)”

I'm really impressed by the continued creativity of my friends. Dave churned out his aural madness once again – topping out with “The Bear,” one of my favorite songs by anyone all year. My high school friend Ned put out a song based on last year’s 20-year reunion; it mentioned my receding hairline and my drinking problem, and I still really dig it. And the Idiots’ latest anthem . . . which, as I reflect, has the same characteristics as baseball and myself in the way Mark insulted us, but one which amuses me nonetheless. I have a picture in my dining room that Rob painted this year. And I have a blog to read every day where friends of mine contribute their time and effort voluntarily without any sort of compensation beyond mutual enjoyment. Pretty cool.

Dave Matthews Band, “Funny the Way It Is”

The Lord works in mysterious ways, so they say. Along the road of this somewhat trying year, whenever I even came close to feeling sorry for myself, I got steady doses of what real life pain really is – not mine, but my friends’. If the big picture ever clouded, if I ever dared to bemoan the pecuniary problems, living conditions, or missing my little ones that my actions had caused, within a very short time I’d hear about people I care about going through much more grueling stuff. Like fathers coming home from the doc with grave news, or parents passing in the night, or children with real problems. The stuff of adult tears. Lost jobs with no prospects. Moving out of residences, not by choice. Real life leaving a mark. And while I won’t dismiss my struggles lightly, I know them to be transitory in nature, and I have been steadily reminded what very good friends are around every corner (or in the corner bar). So I don't get to be bummed out for very long, ever. Funny the way it is.

Animal Collective, “My Girls”

Last year I referenced my two daughters, if only to mention how I wouldn’t discuss them in this forum. I’ll go contrary this year – but keep it uncharacteristically brief. I appreciate my two little angels in a way I don’t disclose often enough. There is nothing in this world that comes close to motivating me like they do, and I expect that will be the case for all my days. Here’s hoping you all have someone or something to bring the joy like that, and if you don’t yet, get on about finding it. Okay . . . enough sappiness, and back to your regularly scheduled dipshittery (one of my favorite new G:TB expressions; thank you, Rob).

[I also really, really love pints of Guinness, Tortuga’s Lie, Jameson on the rocks, old episodes of “Cheers,” baseball, 70’s Bush, old clips of Dr. J, Dale’s in the can, Sandra Bullock in the can, rampant juvenilia, a noontime buzz, and good rock ‘n’ roll. Those things may be more appropriate to appreciate here.]

Heartless Bastards, “The Mountain”

7 Worlds Collide, “Too Blue”

I very much appreciate – in advance – the Gheorghe: The Blog Summit of 2010. It’s on. I’ll be your cruise director, and I’ll be in touch. Get fired up. And once again let me give kudos and thanks to the merry band of assclowns that makes up the G:TB roster. 394 posts is nothing to sneeze at, however you populate them; the amusingly asinine ramblings that comprise our last 365 days, though, will keep us coming back for more. Keep it up, lads . . . using whatever pills you need to do so.

The National, “So Far Around the Bend”

White Rabbits, “Percussion Gun”

Bloodkin, “A Place to Crash”

Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit, “Sunstroke”

The xx, “Crystalised”

Tina Dico, “No Time to Sleep”

Pearl Jam, “Got Some”

These songs didn’t fit into my 12 appreciations, but they’re good. Enough said.

Favorite albums: Cracker (Sunrise in the Land of Milk & Honey), Madness (The Liberty of Norton Folgate), The Avett Brothers (I and Love and You – which was very good, but which I didn’t enjoy as much as Emotionalism, or as much as the mainstream critics praised it), Levon Helm (Electric Dirt), Neko Case (Middle Cyclone), Random Idiots (VH-1’s Behind the Music video), U2 (No Line on the Horizon), Nirvana (Live at Reading), the compilation Dark Was the Night.

Well, that finishes off 2009 for me. Here’s to a fantastic 2010 just a matter of hours away. Cheers, and to all a good night.