Opal Gallery presents another installment of Theater on the Asphalt with a screening of Murnau's 1922 silent classic, "Nosferatu", with a new score by Bill Taft and Hubcap City.
Bring your own chairs, blankets, and warm beverages to bite back the chill running up your tingling spine
With the horrible news of the passing of Levi Stubbs on Friday, I was again in the position to pick one record to define a man whose voice was not easily categorized. Listening to Four Tops albums while slogging over a work project certainly makes the work go faster but did little to help find "the" song.
Giving in to temptation, I threw the laptop aside to run down to the Little Five Points Halloween Parade to catch a glimpse of the festivities. There, I found my answer as a marching band from a local high school came storming down the street with a brassy rendition of "Reach Out I'll Be There". Of course.
Even a brass section can not equal the ferocity of Levi Stubbs' voice, yet the message was loud and clear: as long as there is something to play back music, that voice remains available to see you through. No need to look over your shoulder; just reach out and press play.
Riding into the weekend that, here in Atlanta, kicks off the Halloween festivities with the Little Five Points Parade, I present the galloping "Johnny Remember Me", best remembered in the States - if at all - as the partial source for a Bronski Beat/Marc Almond collaboration. Produced by Joe Meek for maximum creepiness with minimal instrumentation arranged by Charles Blackwell, even singer John Leyton's flat vocal can dampen the fun of the story.
What the story is is open to interpretation but there's no doubt that Johnny is unhinged by the loss of his true love. For what's it worth, I'm inclined to believe that his loss was by his own hand and that his hope to find a replacement suggests a psychopath on the loose.
So, uh... have a great weekend and it's probably wise to avoid tricks.
P.S. John's delivery of "Johnny" at 2:20 always reminds me of Julie Brown's "The Homecoming Queen's Got A Gun": maybe we now all know, like, who Johnny was...
Growing weary of the slice and dice of post-debate polls, I re-adjusted the positions of three dogs and rolled over onto my side while wrestling up enough covers to cover my bottom. Encountering a face that I've watched change for sixteen years, I had the good fortunate to experience the sort of heart swelling feeling of appreciation that explains big sweeping ballads like Jackie DeShannon's version of "I Can Make It With You" and Claude Rains in "Mr. Skeffington".
And then a terrier twitched her tail and soiled the air.
But I still have Jackie, perhaps paying homage to her friend P.J. Proby, and what I consider the best version of "I Can Make It With You". Oh, and "Mr. Skeffington", too.
The Kooks' second album, "Konk", might be noted as having a bit more of blues inflection - no doubt garnered by their opening slot on The Rolling Stones' 2006 tour, but it's done nothing to diminish their ability to capture the sound of the sun as it blasts from a transistor radio. The opening track, "See The Sun", radiates like a day at the beach with a hand full of cheap speed. For me, that's two great tastes that taste great together and I'm officially in love with this song.
