Perfectly Good Guitar

If you recognize that title then you know what's coming.

Yes, I recognize that most of y'all don't really care about this kind of stuff, and those of you that do are probably just being polite. I also recognize that this here is my blog, writ in my own blood, tears and fingernail sweat. So,in the immortal words of Leslie Gore, "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to, cry if I want to, cry if I want to. You would cry too if it happened to you." Well, no, her words are not germane to this particular post but they're still cool.

John Hiatt is a singer songwriter. He looks tall on a CD cover, but then Tom Cruise don't look short on a movie screen. It's all relative, I think. But anyway, I'm sticking with John being tall or at least tallish. OK, inclined to tallness, and not the kind of incline that means leaning. He doesn't tuck his shirt in, either, which is how you know he's cool. I'm tuned into stuff like that, so you can trust me.

So the first album of his I heard about was called BRING THE FAMILY. I was going to buy it til I thought to myself, "Dude. That sounds boring. And not in the way that means to drill a hole." So I didn't buy it.

Hippy Dippy Sidetrippy: Gelatinous blob is fun to say. As long as you get the first word pronounced correctly. I was thinking about that today while I was looking in the mirror. Strange what kinda stuff will pop into your head out of nowhere.

But I still kinda liked the idea of John Hiatt (the person as an indefinate conception) so when the CD PERFECTLY GOOD GUITAR came out to good reviews I bought it. And I'm glad I did. It was, and is, way too cool for school, fool. "Shut up!" "No, you shut up." ( I am nothing if not a cliche.)

Second sidetrippy fo da hippy: The spellchecker at blog dot com, thinks the word blog is a misspelling. Steel..no. Copper...no. Iron...um, not quite. Oh yeah! Ironic, huh?

So, from the first note and on through the first 5 songs or so it grabs you by the throat and shakes you. Shakes you good. Like a camel should. And the ballads. Man, the ballads are so soulful. The lyrics are magnificent. Summarizing summary: Ah likes it. (Someone once referred to Burl Ives in print as a mighty balled singer. I think it was a typo.)

Again, realizing that you really don't care and may not even still be reading (say amen if you're still reading), I offer up the lyrics to one of my favorite cuts on the disk. If you're having trouble with it just contact me. I'll be glad to hum the tune for you. No, don't mention it. It's what I do. Kinda. 867-5309...Jenny, Jenny, who do I turn to?

BUFFALO RIVER HOME

I've been taking off and landing
but this airport's closed
And how much thicker this fog is gonna get
God onlyknows
Just when you think that you've got a grip
Reality sneaks off, it gives you the slip
as if you ever knew what it was
takin' you down the line

(Chorus)
Tearin' through the cotton fields and bus shelters
of the south running helter skelter
Down through the Mississippi Delta
with no place to call your own
Mixing up drinks with mixed feelings
All along the paint was peeling
Down to an Indian blanket on a pony
with no rider in the flesh and bone
lookin' for his Buffalo River home

I've been circling the wagons
down in Times Square
Trying to fill up this hole in my soul
but nothing fits there
Just when you think you can let it rip
you're pounding the pavement in your daddy's wingtips
As if you had someplace else to go
or a better way to get there

(Chorus)

Now there's only two things in life
but I forget what they are
It seems you're either hanging on a moonbeam's coattails
or wishing on stars
Just when you think that you've been gypped
the bearded lady comes and does a double back flip
And you run off and join the circus
yeah, you just let that pony ride

(Chorus)

--John Hiatt, Tallish songwriter, PERFECTLY GOOD GUITAR, 4th cut

Thanks for coming along. See you tomorrow. Same Bat time. Same Bat channel.

The views expressed in this article are solely mine and are not yours. Nor do they necessarily reflect the opininons of you, your neighbors, 7-11 employees (full or part time) or the consevative gestapo that is steadily forming. They do, however,make me laugh maniacally. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Millefleur, out
Travelin' Ed