Only known color photograph of the novelist, shot at his Yasnaya Polyana estate in 1908 by Prokudin-Gorskii, a pioneer of color photography. From Tolstoy's Wikipedia entry
Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina
Robert Plant, Band of Joy
Colour Revolt, The Cradle
Malcolm Holcombe, Gamblin' House
Ramsay Midwood, Shootout at the OK Chinese Restaurant
Little Bob & the Lollipops, I Got Loaded
Traffic, Mr. Fantasy
I saw Malcolm Holcolmbe a few years back and he sat the whole show, bantering much about sitting on his couch in the "power spot" with remote in hand. He was astounding, finger on our every button, but man, look how good and weird he is when you take his chair away for bit. It is like he's stooped over, ducking from something. This song hits me like a 2x4 with "gonna see the Christmas lights."
This thing about young Axl Rose from the Paris Review is luminous. A low-wattage luminosity, perhaps, but still light-shedding. I'd forgotten his real name is/was Bill Bailey. I've never seen Ramsay Midwood live but I love his music so.
I've listened to "I Got Loaded" a zillion times - its the one song every Louisiana band does, be it Cajun, blues, Zydeco, funk, country, whatever - and I rarely get past Little Bob's version on this CD I have, but I let it roll and this song has me a little spellbound. It sounds almost unfinished, like a last layer of polish was neglected and is all the better for it.
"Life Can Be Lonely"
On my walk, I overheard two great phone conversations:
Young man in sunglasses: Hello. (Pause, then imaptiently) Freedom. (Hangs up)
Young woman: It's funny how you wanna stand there and lie to my face, lie to my face, and you're all "Let it slide, baby. Let it slide."
The first one: freedom was uttered like it was a code word, like I expected a building to explode with this utterance. On further thought, it was probably a roommate calling after forgetting the password to the wi-fi. The second, he wasn't in fact standing there she in fact was not going to let it slide, baby. I like how things repeat in her world, even the indiscretions and excuses. Kinda like in Anna Karenina which I'm reading for the first time.
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