inside the museum infinity goes up on trial..:

Damn there’s not a lot better than Dylan 65-66, unless it’s some other period of Dylan that in the moment I’d forgotten about. Some days I am convinced Queen Jane Approximately is the greatest thing written and then I get to Visions of Johanna. Then I hear Stuck Inside of Mobile orAbsolutely Sweet Marie or I Want You and change my mind.

Then I realize that these are the outtakes. Sometimes they are completely different versions other times it’s an inflection a tone of the voice or a change in the rhythm of the vocal. Each would’ve been considered definitive of released at the time but they at the time were deemed less than the ones that made the album.

There gushed enough.

If you haven’t spent time with any of the bootleg series your missing out man.


It’s a work retreat and they put me in the long strange trip room. Seems I am type cast even at work.

McMenamins hotels are a safe option in Oregon, themed rooms and a sanitized hippy aesthetic. They are nice though. You also have to walk to the coffee room to interact with others and no tv in the rooms.

give us a kiss, who with a twist…

For awhile there was a draw to attempting to model existence on early 70s Stones. The lazy, crazy inebriated staggering from one success to the next. There was really only a few drawbacks to this, lack of money being a big one, also lack of talent may have been at play.

I was absolutely convinced that given the opportunity I would be able to go head to head with Keith Richards and the boys. I could loll around the pool barefoot with my shirt open to the waist and indulge to my hearts content.

Eventually it became apparent that, this poor boy from Liverpool was not going to attract an attractive heiress to pay for this fantasy regardless of how lovely my curly auburn hair was cascading down my shoulders. Also as I was not going to be a kept man there was no way I could manage some sort of dissolute Keatsian languorous lifestyle, I would have to labor along with the other mere mortals.

I could however for 40 minutes or so listening to Goats Head Soup pretend that I was on the cusp of mega stardom as I rode the wave of an almost perfect run of albums to the eventual decline or sell out. It all seemed a lot less work to be the Stones than the Beatles or the Kinks. It was about 60% attitude and 40% talent. A few good songs but a lot more ass wiggling and attitude dragged you the rest of the way.

So it’s Goats Head Soup time. Its all a bit looser and funner than Exile, around the corner was tragedy, stardom and eventually the machine just keeps churning. But Goats Head Soup despite it’s inconsistencies is still a lot of fun start to end.

a picture…

Sometimes as the days run into each other I forget my roots. I start feeling assimilated into this society I chose for myself. Everything seems to be normal the way it always has been and always will be. Then I’m struck by something alien.

It’s not the gun deaths, the constant bickering, the drawing of lines and taking of political sides. It’s not that football, the real type with round balls and 22 millionaires running in circles. Is on in the morning not the afternoon.

It is however a container train stopping traffic on a backroad with nuts graffiti and the barriers across the road. The crossed rail road crossing sign and the clanging bells.

Go figure.