A Lot of Catchin' Up To Do
Crate Diving in Modern America
Life must go on, even though in this moment the rage and the wars dominate us. I have connections to the Iranian community, and shock of shocks, they do not speak with one voice about the current fighting, bombing, and convulsing in their land of birth.
With one eye and ear open, I listen out as commentators try to describe what this all means for America, and sure, that’s a thought, sort of in the vein of “How does this affect me, Al Franken?” I love that opinion writers whom I love, Like Michele Goldberg, have recently suggested that they—just speaking for themselves—might have been too hard on Al. Sure, reprimand, formal censure, but almost every day I get an email from him urging me to speak out against the latest undermining of democracy coming from those in charge of our democracy.
On the continuum, what Al did was wrong and he was punished, unlike and not as reprehensible as the WRONG perpetrated by the current C-I-C who, as of this writing, still isn’t sure how to play Iran, Israel, or even his own fervid, hungry, and drooling horde.
So, I have two suggestions for those of us who keep getting news flashes about thugs killing members of state congresses and entering no plea at all when hauled before the courts.
First, consider reading Rebecca Solnit’s A Field Guide to Getting Lost (Penguin 2006). It may or may not help you make it through the night or life, but as I began it early this morning, I felt my natural, daily anxiety begin dimming, calming, just as on those days at the beach when there is little-to-no tide at all. Consider this quotation:
“Love, wisdom, grace, inspiration—how do you go about finding these things that are in some ways about extending the boundaries of the self into unknown territory, about becoming someone else?…It is the job of artists to open doors and invite prophesies, the unknown, the unfamiliar; it’s where their work comes from, although its arrival signals the beginning of the long disciplined process of making it their own. Scientists, too, as …Oppenheimer once remarked, ‘live always at the edge of mystery—the boundary of the unknown.’ But they transform the unknown into the known, haul it in like fishermen; artists get you out into that dark area” (5).
Whew.
The unknown, the dark area, and extending boundaries of the self into it all—that isn’t exactly what I’ve considered that I’ve been doing in pursuing writing and turning my thoughts into something at least resembling art, but maybe so, maybe so.
What I do know, and the second thing I’ll suggest to turn from the world’s darkness and into the extended boundaries your own self, is to explore the unknown shelves and crates of your local record store. Dig into the unfamiliar and become something, someone else!
For instance, you might not think you like, and indeed, you might not have ever heard A Night on the Town with Buck Owens’ Buckaroos (Capitol ST-8-2902, 1968), but maybe you should, for if you did, you’d hear some pretty strong fiddle by Don Rich on “Down on the Bayou,” and equally seductive steel guitar by Tom Brumley on “Waltz of the Roses.” Some great electric guitar instrumentals on “Chaparral” and an overall sweet sound from the Bakersfield legend. My copy came from Cabin Floor Records for a low price of $8.
Buck’s “Hew Haw” compatriot, Roy Clark, had a pop/country hit back in 1969: “Yesterday, When I was Young.” I found the LP of the same name (DOT DLP-25953) for $6 at Melody Supreme in Charlottesville, VA. Roy recently left this old world for the unknown of another, and while his voice isn’t as strong as some, his guitar-playing stands with anyone’s. I wonder what he’s exploring or where he’s lost now.
Also at Melody Supreme, I got a very fine copy of The Rolling Stones’ 1964 LP, 12 x 5 (London PS 402) for $25. They were so young then, yesterday in 1964, but then so was I when this record was released. I was 8, and didn’t know the how lost in music and in the extended world I could get. Their original composition, “Good Times, Bad Times” is a highlight here, and perfectly captures this and any other time.
Finally, for today at least, I’ve wanted to write about the Dylan biopic, A Complete Unknown, and while I will—that is when I’ve finished it—it’s spurred that Dylan quest. So again, at Cabin Floor Records, I found a 1975 reissue of Bob’s first LP, Bob Dylan (Columbia Monaural-CL 1779) for $22. I had an old beat up copy that someone foisted on me when I was too naive to consider it carefully, so now I’ve found a new expression and feel like another door leading…where?…has opened. “Song to Woody” is worth everything I did to get lost.
And then, someone who has very similar tastes and needs as me was selling back the 1974 live album of Bob Dylan/ The Band (Asylum AB 201), a double LP that, honestly, had gotten lost in the shackles of my memory. Cabin Floor kills me, and my daughter got me a $50 gift card for all this. As a bonus, I also got that collection of covers Dylan did back in 1973 on an LP simply called Dylan (Columbia PC 32747). Critics panned it, but for $8, my lost soul feels broadened and ready to see what else is lurking out there in this place we call the world.
So I’ll keep looking, but I won’t be watching.