Search

Joseph E Bird

Let's talk about reading, writing and the arts.

Tag

roots

victory

the boys are at it again.

from their upcoming album Gleam III.

my father will say they need a haircut and a shave. and it’s a shame they can’t finish out that garage. but wouldn’t you like to be hanging out with them while they sit around and play?

ho hey, cleopatra

more music on this cool saturday morning.

the Lumineers, the band that may have started that whole ho! hey! thing a few years ago, tell pretty good stories in their songs. i had heard Cleopatra and was confused about what the song was about until I heard this.

here’s how it came together.

and here’s the song.

saturday morning music

if you haven’t listened to tyler childers, here you go.

Lord the wind can leave you shiverin’
As it waltzes o’er the leaves
It’s been rushin’ through my timber
Til’ your love brought on the spring
Now the mountains all are blushin’
And they don’t know what to say
‘Cept a good long line of praises
For my lovely Lady May

these boys can play

I’ve kind of been viewing Pokey LaFarge as a little bit of a novelty act.  They may be completely quirky, but these guys are incredible musicians.  Don’t believe me, check it out.  That dude on the harp is insane.  The bass player is slapping like it’s nothing.  And yeah, the guitar player is pretty good, too.

Bobcat Hollow

This is a passage from Chris Offutt’s book, The Good Brother.  In this scene, Virgil is about to leave the only town he has ever known.  He becomes aware of things he had never consciously noticed before.

He strolled the familiar sidewalk of Main Street, passing people whose faces he recognized – as Boyd put it, men he’d howdied but never shook.  Teenage boys outside the pool hall stood very close to each other.  As they got older, they would move further apart.  Old men in front of the courthouse owned a segment of space that surrounded them like a web.

And here, he visits his sister one last time.

He drove to his sister’s house at the head of Bobcat Hollow.  The dirt road crossed the creek several times, and in spring the two mixed freely.  At the top of the ridge, trees glowed with autumn colors, but near the creek, the leaves were still green.  Two dogs loped around the house and barked. A young billy goat with one horn stared at him, the only penned animal on the place.

It’s the understated writing; the deft observations; the cultural roots.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑