Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Hubert Sumline Videos: The man in his own words.

I've been meaning to post these forever. I could write a few words about this, but as you know I like to let the bluesmen speak for themselves. Enjoy!



Notes from Youtube: Blues legend Hubert Sumlin talks about his punishment as a child for getting into some devilment with his father. He reminisces about Howlin' Wolf, Robert Johnson, Robert Jr. Lockwood and Charley Patton and he gives "Seventh Hour Blues" editor, Anthony Sapienza, a guitar lesson. Featuring "Smokestack Lightnin'" and "Killing Floor". Filmed by Anthony Sapienza.




Interview #2 in the series w/ blues legend Hubert Sumlin for Guitar Center's King Of The Blues '07.



Interview #3 in the series w/ blues legend Hubert Sumlin for Guitar Center's King Of The Blues '07.

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Wednesday, January 09, 2008

Koko Taylor ft. Little Walter - Wang Dang Doodle

You probably will have to stop the playlist a couple of post down the blog to enjoy this.



This video is too cool. Not only is it of Koko Taylor, with Little Walter on harp, but there are a few other surprises. Feel free to leave me a comment naming all the bluesmen that you see in this video. The only bad thing about it is that it is out of sync. But it is so rare that can be forgiven.

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Sunday, January 06, 2008

Blues a poem by Elizabeth Alexander

This post is going to be a little something different. I really like Elizabeth Alexander's poetry and she wrote a poem that has a title that was made for this blog. Although the body of the poem may not fit the way we normally think of the blues. While not what most would call a traditional blues themed poem, you just have to keep reading it.

Oh and it really captures how I have been feeling lately.

Blues
by Elizabeth Alexander


I am lazy, the laziest
girl in the world. I sleep during
the day when I want to, 'til
my face is creased and swollen,
'til my lips are dry and hot. I
eat as I please: cookies and milk
after lunch, butter and sour cream
on my baked potato, foods that
slothful people eat, that turn
yellow and opaque beneath the skin.
Sometimes come dinnertime Sunday
I am still in my nightgown, the one
with the lace trim listing because
I have not mended it. Many days
I do not exercise, only
consider it, then rub my curdy
belly and lie down. Even
my poems are lazy. I use
syllabics instead of iambs,
prefer slant to the gong of full rhyme,
write briefly while others go
for pages. And yesterday,
for example, I did not work at all!
I got in my car and I drove
to factory outlet stores, purchased
stockings and panties and socks
with my father's money.

To think, in childhood I missed only
one day of school per year. I went
to ballet class four days a week
at four-forty-five and on
Saturdays, beginning always
with plie, ending with curtsy.
To think, I knew only industry,
the industry of my race
and of immigrants, the radio
tuned always to the station
that said, Line up your summer
job months in advance. Work hard
and do not shame your family,
who worked hard to give you what you have.
There is no sin but sloth. Burn
to a wick and keep moving.

I avoided sleep for years,
up at night replaying
evening news stories about
nearby jailbreaks, fat people
who ate fried chicken and woke up
dead. In sleep I am looking
for poems in the shape of open
V's of birds flying in formation,
or open arms saying, I forgive you, all.




From Body of Life by Elizabeth Alexander, published by Tia Chucha Press. Copyright © 1996 by Elizabeth Alexander.

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