you never know what you’re gonna get…
Episode 21: The Family Guy
Jack climbed the stairs of the 5:40 commuter, scanning the rows for an available seat. To his surprise, he discovered an open row. Even better. He liked a window seat.
Jack usually took the 6:18 commuter: A much busier train. Finding an open seat was always a challenge on the 6:18. The ladies with their corpulent bags were fascists when it came to accommodating a boarding rider. Men fiddling with laptops were junkyard dogs guarding their precious elbow room.
Before I get started, let me offer all of you rockers out there the opportunity to bow out of any commitment you might feel for reading this Springsteen review. If you believe that a mandolin belongs in the kitchen; if you need another collection of protest songs like you need another hole in your head; if you find established artists who decide an acoustic album is just the thing they need to kick-start a sagging career offensive, then by all means go read some other article . You won't hurt my feelings a bit….
Whilst perusing the entries in this humble blog, you may notice a recurring theme when it comes to the images that are displayed: they are all of, shall we say, “interesting” composition and quality. Let it now be known that 90% of the photos displayed here are taken with my trusty Treo 650: a wondrous machine that does so many things well, we can forgive it the unfortunate quality of its internal camera.
The thing is, in a word: crappy. It takes pictures at a resolution of 640×480 and, unless paired with absolutely perfect lighting conditions and the steady hands of surgeon, produces results that are… well… what you see on this site.
So, why do I use it, you ask? Because it is always handy, I answer.
While I carry my Canon around with me on vacations and special occassions, I rarely have anything else to capture a moment when, say, we go to pick up our wayward dog at the pound. It’s just there, ready to use. So there you have it.
Thanks for your patience, and thanks for looking in the first place.
Check it out: Another test.
While I never actually provide anything of value in the blogs I create (and there are several), I am something of an artiste when it comes to test entries. Trust me on this one.
Let's get the obvious out of the way from the outset: Derek Trucks is a fantastic talent. Blending the soul and sounds of all of his transcontinental elders with a gifted technique reminiscent of Duane Allman, Bonnie Raitt, and Ry Cooder, Trucks brings a fresh imagination to the instrument that is both old and new. This kid is the young Mickey Mantle of the vintage rock world, and one of a paltry few who continue to move a venerable rock and roll art form forward with new and vital ideas. He is also an adept student of the James Brown/B.B. King "more than 300 shows a year" work ethic and, in addition to fronting his own group, plays regularly with the Allman Brothers Band and manages to sit in with other musicians on a frighteningly regular basis. So much for wasted youth.
And so it is, after three years, that he has managed to get himself and his band off the road long enough to record the Derek Trucks Band's fourth studio offering, Songlines. The disc presents a musician and his band that continues to develop, but risks slipping into a comfortable rut. This is their most commercial sounding release to date, with pop-tinged tracks like "Revolution," "(I'd Rather Be) Blind, Crippled and Crazy," and "I Wish I Knew (How It Would Feel to be Free)" — all designed for radio airplay. And they're not bad. But they're not particularly inspiring either.
