Bon Scott died about six monthsafter the release of Highway to Hell. I was fifteen years old. I loved him, his weirdness, his humor: I loved it when he pretended to keel over at the end of “ShotDown in Flames,” and I loved his rock-uncharacteristic nod to Mork and Mindy at the end of “NightContinue reading “#591: A is for AC/DC”
Tag Archives: music
I’m Going to Listen to Everything, Redux
Nearly 100 poems ago, I wrote about the desire to listen to every record in my collection from A-Z. This is a bit of a pattern for me, as, more than twelve years ago now, I made a similar claim about my CD collection, that I would like to listen to at least a singleContinue reading “I’m Going to Listen to Everything, Redux”
#587: A musician of a certain age. . .
. . . sits on his drum throne and bends overto tighten the floor tom legs and the agonyis immediate. He’s not sure if he hears an actual crack or if the pain synapses inhis brain are exploding his auditory nerves. What is most likely is that the pain hascaused him to yell. He’s settingContinue reading “#587: A musician of a certain age. . .”
#575: There Is A Ritual To It
The dance floor is open, she says, and people begin dancing. Sometimes, she doesn’t have to say anything. From the first downbeat people leave their seatsand flock. They don’t even haveto be sure that the music is good. It starts, they begin, as if they could not help it. They are exercising, they areentertaining themselves,Continue reading “#575: There Is A Ritual To It”
#573: A Double Loose Love Sonnet for Daily Records
I When I was a teen, 45 years ago now, I’d walk weekly to a neighborhoodrecord store. There were, in fact, three to choose from on the samesuburban strip, otherwise, a culturalwasteland. By the time I was an adult,all three of them were shuttered. My favorite, Everybody’s Records, turned into a pornshop. ALL ADULT VIDEOContinue reading “#573: A Double Loose Love Sonnet for Daily Records”
#572: On Seeing Your Son Perform at the University of Dayton Arena with Pulse Percussion
You try not to cry. Absolutely mind-blownby the ability, the skill,the prowess, the intensity of hisparts, his movement, his seamless integrationwith this group, a groupthat plays and movesas if it were one body. The tug comes from different directions. On the one hand, you miss him. He has been away from home for nearly sixContinue reading “#572: On Seeing Your Son Perform at the University of Dayton Arena with Pulse Percussion”
#571: You’ll Always Be Right Here
After something like 25 yearsliving on different sides of a widecontinent, the two friends decideto start writing music together. He’d arrange a musical idea,play bass guitar to a click track, maybe add some keyboard, and share these tracks with hisfriend via the mighty google drive. His friend, then, would downloadthese tracks into his own homestudio,Continue reading “#571: You’ll Always Be Right Here”
#564: Starlings
When I read the prompt today on the NaPoWriMo website, to write a poem about listening to or singing a song while driving, incorporating a lyric quote somewhere in the piece, and I read the example poem by Ellen Bass, I knew immediately what song I would write about. And shortly thereafter I also knewContinue reading “#564: Starlings”
#558: Xenia, Ohio in Four Movements
I We’re in Ohio, outside of Daytonin a town called Xenia, stayingat a Hampton Hotel, where theideal of the mythic guest-friendship is somewhat wanting. All the fixturesare installed off-kilter or crooked,the bathroom door came off itsglider, trapped my wife in there,I almost lost myfingers trying to free her,and the toilet seat is broken. No oneContinue reading “#558: Xenia, Ohio in Four Movements”
#557: Hotel Breakfast (a loose villanelle)
“I was poor in love, I was poor in wealth,”But breakfast is complimentary here, and“I was okay in everything else there was.” In my free associations between Young,Bejar, and Dylan, over bad hotel eggs,“I was poor in love, I was poor in wealth,” The refrain from a song on Destroyer’sKaput keeps rattling inside my head,“IContinue reading “#557: Hotel Breakfast (a loose villanelle)”
michael jarmer 