Saturday, March 7, 2026
Tuesday, March 3, 2026
Sade - Live Bring Me Home (2011)
1:15 Soldier Of Love
7:54 Your Love Is King
12:55 Skin
16:50 Kiss Of Life
21:54 Love Is Found
27:10 In Another Time
34:43 Smooth Operator
39:23 Jezebel
46:20 Bring Me Home
50:30 Is It A Crime
58:45 Love Is Stronger Than Pride
1:03:24 All About Our Love
1:06:34 Paradise
1:12:26 Nothing Can Come Between Us
1:17:01 Morning Bird
1:17:01 King Of Sorrow
1:21:06 The Sweetest Taboo
1:26:13 The Moon And The Sky
1:30:50 Pearls
1:35:25 No Ordinary Love
1:41:15 By Your Side
1:51:38 Cherish The Day
Simon and Garfunkel ( The Concert in Central Park 1981 ) Full Concert
Wednesday, February 25, 2026
Mike Nesmith of the Monkees
(From my book, Rock 'n' Blues Stew)
Mike Nesmith:
From the
Monkees to a millionaire, you can’t argue with a man in a wool hat
A
music journalist has to be careful when accepting an offer to write an essay
about his or her favored musician of choice.
In my case, I was caught by my own trap (the term is “hoisted by one’s
own petard”), and I think it was used
on an early Star Trek episode with
Captain Kirk. What simply happened to me
is that a blogger buddy from Minnesota named WhiteRay threw the idea back in my
lap and asked, “What makes Michael Nesmith more interesting than any of the
other country-folk-rock musicians from the same time period in his genre?” It took a few days to let it simmer until I
found an answer—or several.
For one,
he yodels.
No,
not the rolled pastry; the way he sings, of course. He yodels—and that clued me in to some of the
Nez magic. It’s his way of carrying
along the legacy and tradition of those singers who incorporated that method
into their work in the country vein of musical bloodlines. Jimmy “the Singing Brakeman” Rodgers, for
one—and absolutely, there’s a big hunk of Hank Williams, too. They would surely be included—it’s part of
Nesmith’s heritage as a native son of the Republic of Texas; it’s that mix of
refined/respectable gentleman and hell-raisin’ rascal.
But
it’s also a mix and blend of Nashville, but it comes through other locations
and fellow musicians. It goes as far as the Pacific Northwest region where
Danny O’Keefe comes from (listen to “I’m Sober Now”)—and then you can count in
Boz Scaggs down at the Muscle Shoals studio in 1969, working on “Waiting for a
Train.” Nez, however, makes it a staple
part of his production—and it just fits naturally, as though he knew he was
born to yippee and whoop. And no, I
already know how much influence folks like Gram Parsons, the Flying Burrito
Brothers, and Pure Prairie League had—I mean it’s different when Nesmith plays
because it’s like he was singing about himself and not some distant ideal or
goal like a busted romance and how to fix it.
If you really want to hear how far back he
made it clear, turn it back to the Monkees’s first album and slip on “Papa
Gene’s Blues.” That James Burton-like
Nashville lead guitar is, I think, where Mike’s heart has been right from the
start. Follow that with “Sunny
Girlfriend” from the Headquarters release,
and you’ve got the next clue. Forget all
that foolishness that was part of the group’s act: Michael Nesmith was always a
serious musician who honored his country roots.
And backing that up is the whine of a pedal steel guitar—it’s found on
almost all his songs (“Mama Nantucket” is a great example—and not the kind of
title I’d associate with the instrument).
That’s
another part of the man’s appeal: he had a businessman’s approach to writing
songs and lyrics in an honest but earnest way that lacks any fancy
gimmicks. It was his approach to acting
as well; for what it matters, there was no other option with the clowning
antics that made the other three Monkees seem so cute. Even the Beatles needed George Harrison to be
considered serious at times. Nez, on his
part, keeps his production basic and focused—but adds just a tad of
mischief. My favorite tune is “Rio,”
partially because he deliberately rearranges words and images to create a
fantasy of escaping to South America for the adventure of it—and the way he
plays on the title itself when a woman’s voice proclaims, “Not Reno, dummy! Rio! Rio de JIN-ero!”
See?
It’s not an obvious thing; it’s more simple than all the elaborate parts. He sings and plays like a musical collection
of old movie stars: he’s sort of a singing mix of the best characteristics of
Cary Grant and Gary Cooper: polite, firm, and funny, and quiet when it
counts. That is, quiet until he writes a
song—and then he’s out for a good laugh and a good time on the town.
Heck, maybe it’s that Mike Nesmith is and
always has been a man who knew what he wanted and how to do it—and he lets the
music do his walking and talking. Or
maybe it’s just that confidence that comes from—can I say—“a home on the
range”? Any way I try to pin it down, it
just comes down to a man who knew what he could do and how to make it fit his
needs and his music as well as his life story.
Can’t argue that with a man in a wool hat and
a millionaire to boot.
Tuesday, February 24, 2026
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Please do not rush through this post. There is a message--several, in fact--that are deeper and more haunting than you may have expected...