<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582</id><updated>2012-02-17T07:06:53.539-08:00</updated><category term='Song Lyrics'/><category term='Quotes'/><category term='Robert Wilson'/><category term='Bone Machine'/><category term='Soundscape'/><category term='The Cinema of Tom Waits'/><category term='The Language of Tom Waits'/><category term='The Words of Tom Waits'/><category term='The poetry of Tom Waits'/><category term='Harry Partch'/><category term='The Boneyard'/><category term='Songwriting'/><category term='The Latest Dialogue'/><category term='Influences'/><category term='The Celebrity of Tom Waits'/><title type='text'>An Old Clotheshorse Like Myself</title><subtitle type='html'>"I am attracted to things that fall outside of the 
practical domain of music. . . . 

I like hearing the orchestra tune up. 
That for me is the show."

                      Tom Waits</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>37</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-878373277607471933</id><published>2008-12-08T19:10:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T19:10:32.527-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the CIVIL warS: A tree is best measured when it is down</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/g3OaetOG1hc' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/g3OaetOG1hc'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This Old Clotheshorse knows the importance of Robert Wilson. The Keeper told him.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-878373277607471933?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/878373277607471933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=878373277607471933' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/878373277607471933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/878373277607471933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2008/12/civil-wars-tree-is-best-measured-when.html' title='the CIVIL warS: A tree is best measured when it is down'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-3999827327937776659</id><published>2008-12-08T18:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T18:58:37.038-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Words of Tom Waits'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robert Wilson'/><title type='text'>Tacks on the Kitchen Floor - Robert Wilson</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/bb/140-graveyard-689x407.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 689px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 407px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/bb/140-graveyard-689x407.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mertons.com/img_content/copper-tacks-t.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.beerquest1k.com/Assets/Boneyard1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the Keeper of the Boneyard was dusting off the headstones, muttering about Wilson: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Words for Bob are like tacks on the kitchen floor in the dark of night and you’re barefoot. So Bob clears a path he can walk through words without getting hurt. Bob changes the values and shapes of words. In some sense they take on more meaning; in some cases, less.” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-3999827327937776659?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/3999827327937776659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=3999827327937776659' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/3999827327937776659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/3999827327937776659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2008/12/tacks-on-kitchen-floor-robert-wilson.html' title='Tacks on the Kitchen Floor - Robert Wilson'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-3697987079846351773</id><published>2008-10-03T20:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T20:18:16.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Keeper of the Bamba</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.southsidejohnny.com/home/nokia_marquee_splash.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.southsidejohnny.com/home/nokia_marquee_splash.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-3697987079846351773?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/3697987079846351773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=3697987079846351773' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/3697987079846351773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/3697987079846351773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2008/10/keeper-of-bamba.html' title='The Keeper of the Bamba'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-6541920980123407069</id><published>2008-10-03T09:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T09:27:33.673-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Influences'/><title type='text'>Southside Johnny and the LaBamba Big Band</title><content type='html'>So it appears the Keeper of the Graveyard has been haunting the world of Southside Johnny. You couldn't find a better world to haunt. Anyway along with the LaBamba Big Band, Johnny has released an album of Tom Waits covers. The Keeper himself sings along on "Walk Away."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently Southside Johnny  and the LaBamba Big Band are "appearing" at the Nokia Theater in New York City on Friday, October 24th. While the Keeper will not be there in person, his spirit has already his train ticket booked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-6541920980123407069?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/6541920980123407069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=6541920980123407069' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/6541920980123407069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/6541920980123407069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2008/10/southside-johnny-and-labamba-big-band.html' title='Southside Johnny and the LaBamba Big Band'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-648418121014457789</id><published>2008-09-22T13:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T13:12:08.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Harbor Lights - Elvis Presley (1954)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/JkFnMPNdaxA' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/JkFnMPNdaxA'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm sure the Keeper of the Graveyard would appreciate this&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-648418121014457789?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/648418121014457789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=648418121014457789' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/648418121014457789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/648418121014457789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2008/09/harbor-lights-elvis-presley-1954.html' title='Harbor Lights - Elvis Presley (1954)'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-1054581063748381630</id><published>2008-08-15T20:41:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-15T20:41:13.196-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tom Waits Dublin 2008 31.07.08</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/y5eRh_z4H4M' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/y5eRh_z4H4M'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This old clotheshorse wishes he could have been there. Sorry Keeper of the Graveyard.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-1054581063748381630?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/1054581063748381630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=1054581063748381630' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/1054581063748381630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/1054581063748381630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2008/08/tom-waits-dublin-2008-310708_15.html' title='Tom Waits Dublin 2008 31.07.08'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-2257881368293919086</id><published>2008-08-15T20:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-15T20:41:12.797-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tom Waits Dublin 2008 31.07.08</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/y5eRh_z4H4M' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/y5eRh_z4H4M'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-2257881368293919086?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/2257881368293919086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=2257881368293919086' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/2257881368293919086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/2257881368293919086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2008/08/tom-waits-dublin-2008-310708.html' title='Tom Waits Dublin 2008 31.07.08'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-150751611743687256</id><published>2008-08-08T19:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T19:51:07.538-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Celebrity of Tom Waits'/><title type='text'>The Keeper of the Park - Coz He Has No Time</title><content type='html'>Showbiz.ie trying to get a photo of the Keeper on the streets of Dublin bemoaning their bad luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comments anyone:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"celebrities eh?"...........lads if ye had any idea of how stupid that sounds when ur talkin bout tom waits......the man couldnt be further from that,ever wonder why ye wouldnt know him from a line up.........coz he has no time for the rubbish that goes with so called "celebrity".........unlike most of the bimbos on this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Waits is a TOTAL legend. Great concert in the pheonix park last night, best I've been at in a long time. TOM WAITS IS A GOD!!!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-150751611743687256?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/150751611743687256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=150751611743687256' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/150751611743687256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/150751611743687256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2008/08/keeper-of-park-coz-he-has-no-time.html' title='The Keeper of the Park - Coz He Has No Time'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-3519267630327237524</id><published>2008-05-08T18:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T18:49:46.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You Dated My Mother - Tom Waits Press Conference</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/EOrG1r3S6ZA' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/EOrG1r3S6ZA'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Keeper of the Graveyard dated my mother too. She is not doing well.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-3519267630327237524?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/3519267630327237524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=3519267630327237524' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/3519267630327237524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/3519267630327237524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2008/05/you-dated-my-mother-tom-waits-press.html' title='You Dated My Mother - Tom Waits Press Conference'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-1415929419645941213</id><published>2008-01-30T15:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-30T15:26:52.771-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Influences'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Song Lyrics'/><title type='text'>Vietnam - Don't Even Turn The Car Off</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://homepage.mac.com/hbsherwood/images/superjoel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://homepage.mac.com/hbsherwood/images/superjoel.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This Old Clotheshorse likes the sweater, the turned up sleeves, the tall neck. Oh yeah the flowers in the gun barrels too. So I am wondering about the hipster in question and turn to The Keeper of the Graveyard since I know he knows these things.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Turns out the hipster is none other than Joel Tournabene.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"So who's Joel Tournabene, Tom?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"He's in the concrete biz. Mob guy. He was the grandson of Sam Giancana from Chicago. He did some yard work for me, and I hung out with him most of the time. He died in Mexico about five years ago. He was a good friend of [producer/composer] Hal Wilner, and he was a good guy. He had an errant--I don't know how to put this--he used to go around, and when he saw something he liked in somebody's yard, he would go back that night with a shovel, dig it up and plant it in your yard. We used to get a kick out of that. So I stopped saying, 'I really like that rosebush, I really like that banana tree, I really like that palm.' Because I knew what it meant. He came over once with twelve chickens as a gift. My wife said, 'Joel, don't even turn the car off. Turn that car around and take those chickens back where you found them.' He was a good friend, one of the wildest guys I've ever known."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"How's It Gonna End?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"...Drag your wagon and your plow&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Over the bones of the dead&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Out among the roses and the weeds&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You can never go back&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And the answer is no&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And wishing for it only&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Makes it bleed&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Joel Tornabene was broken&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;On the wheel..."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-1415929419645941213?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/1415929419645941213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=1415929419645941213' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/1415929419645941213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/1415929419645941213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2008/01/vietnam-dont-even-turn-car-off.html' title='Vietnam - Don&apos;t Even Turn The Car Off'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-5887898829055109355</id><published>2008-01-22T19:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T20:13:26.791-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Boneyard'/><title type='text'>Down At The Tropicana</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.tomwaitslibrary.com/images/imagestopography/tropicana-dukes-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.tomwaitslibrary.com/images/imagestopography/tropicana-dukes-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thing is, we are down at the Tropicana. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Rikki is in the background, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;soon to take the foreground. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What a vagabond.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Singing 'Easy Money' at The Troubadour&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;gotta ask yourself, what for?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Some romantic dreamer&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;stuck in the wrong time zone.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Gotta buy a pair of high heels&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;falling off your shoes in low style&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Santa Monica Boulevard&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;looking like a little girl.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I wish I was in New Orleans&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;stealing my own car&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;with a beret and a  mojo&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;taking it all too far.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Just swimming and imagining&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;feeling like a movie star&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Little Amy playing pi-an-o&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;singing Wish Upon A Star.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Walking round the same streets&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;jazz side of life.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I really am that girl.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm really not that wife.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Young blood and coolsville&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chuck. E.'s out of love&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;lost in the bullshit&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;swallowed up in drugs.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Filling in the darkness&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;L.A. streets at night&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;things I saw as a little girl&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;empty and quiet.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Life, so serious&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;and hard&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;and cruel.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-5887898829055109355?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/5887898829055109355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=5887898829055109355' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/5887898829055109355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/5887898829055109355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2008/01/down-at-tropicana.html' title='Down At The Tropicana'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-8485372191469807131</id><published>2008-01-22T19:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T19:56:14.721-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In the Salvage Business</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.tomwaitslibrary.com/images/imagesextras/chuck-imusic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.tomwaitslibrary.com/images/imagesextras/chuck-imusic.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This old clotheshorse was wondering about Chuck E. Weiss recently. That other old clotheshorse set him to the wise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Chuck E. Weiss is a mensch, a liar, a monkey, and a pathological Vaudevillian. He is a distant relative of Houdini's; he's a praying mantis riding an egret through a bad neighborhood. He's a reverend waving a pistol around. Basically, he's in the salvage business and you should do everything he tells you."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-8485372191469807131?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/8485372191469807131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=8485372191469807131' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/8485372191469807131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/8485372191469807131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2008/01/in-salvage-business.html' title='In the Salvage Business'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-1857516555010335879</id><published>2008-01-22T19:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T19:12:26.558-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Cinema of Tom Waits'/><title type='text'>The Devil Incarnate</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.smart.co.uk/dreams/parndes2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.smart.co.uk/dreams/parndes2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So Mr. Nick is thinking souls, is thinking imaginarium. Valentina is the prize, but the prize is the deal, the bet. There is not a song he has written that promises anything less.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Parnassus is trying to bring amazement to people, and not doing a very good job of it, because they aren't paying attention to him. But if they will enter his mirror, and allow their imagination to mix with his, they enter these extraordinary worlds, and they come back transcendent -- or they strangely disappear...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-1857516555010335879?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/1857516555010335879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=1857516555010335879' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/1857516555010335879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/1857516555010335879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2008/01/devil-incarnate.html' title='The Devil Incarnate'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-6886184502974342341</id><published>2008-01-07T12:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T12:31:17.517-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quotes'/><title type='text'>Straight Trees and Crooked Trees</title><content type='html'>My kids are starting to notice I'm a little different from the other dads. "Why don't you have a straight job like everyone else?" they asked me the other day. I told them this story: In the forest, there was a crooked tree and a straight tree. Every day, the straight tree would say to the crooked tree, "Look at me...I'm tall, and I'm straight, and I'm handsome. Look at you...you're all crooked and bent over. No one wants to look at you." And they grew up in that forest together. And then one day the loggers came, and they saw the crooked tree and the straight tree, and they said, "Just cut the straight trees and leave the rest." So the loggers turned all the straight trees into lumber and toothpicks and paper. And the crooked tree is still there, growing stronger and stranger every day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-6886184502974342341?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/6886184502974342341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=6886184502974342341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/6886184502974342341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/6886184502974342341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2008/01/straight-trees-and-crooked-trees.html' title='Straight Trees and Crooked Trees'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-8572646773585213112</id><published>2007-12-27T11:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T11:15:31.191-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Song Lyrics'/><title type='text'>Christmas Card</title><content type='html'>hey Charley I'm pregnant&lt;br /&gt;and living on 9-th street&lt;br /&gt;right above a dirty bookstore&lt;br /&gt;off cuclid avenue&lt;br /&gt;and I stopped taking dope&lt;br /&gt;and I quit drinking whiskey&lt;br /&gt;and my old man plays the trombone&lt;br /&gt;and works out at the track.&lt;br /&gt;and he says that he loves me&lt;br /&gt;even though its not his baby&lt;br /&gt;and he says that he'll raise him up&lt;br /&gt;like he would his own son&lt;br /&gt;and he gave me a ring&lt;br /&gt;that was worn by his mother&lt;br /&gt;and he takes me out dancin&lt;br /&gt;every saturday nite.&lt;br /&gt;and hey Charley I think about you&lt;br /&gt;everytime I pass a fillin' station&lt;br /&gt;on account of all the grease&lt;br /&gt;you used to wear in your hair&lt;br /&gt;and I still have that record&lt;br /&gt;of little anthony &amp;amp; the imperials&lt;br /&gt;but someone stole my record player&lt;br /&gt;how do you like that?&lt;br /&gt;hey Charley I almost went crazy&lt;br /&gt;after mario got busted&lt;br /&gt;so I went back to omaha to&lt;br /&gt;live with my folks&lt;br /&gt;but everyone I used to know&lt;br /&gt;was either dead or in prison&lt;br /&gt;so I came back in minneapolis&lt;br /&gt;this time I think I'm gonna stay.&lt;br /&gt;hey Charley I think I'm happy&lt;br /&gt;for the first time since my accident&lt;br /&gt;and I wish I had all the money&lt;br /&gt;that we used to spend on dope&lt;br /&gt;I'd buy me a used car lot&lt;br /&gt;and I wouldn't sell any of em&lt;br /&gt;I'd just drive a different car&lt;br /&gt;every day dependin on how I feel.&lt;br /&gt;hey Charleyfor chrissakes&lt;br /&gt;do you want to know&lt;br /&gt;the truth of it?I don't have a husband&lt;br /&gt;he don't play the trombone&lt;br /&gt;and I need to borrow money&lt;br /&gt;to pay this lawyer&lt;br /&gt;and Charley, heyI'll be eligible for parole&lt;br /&gt;come valentines day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-8572646773585213112?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/8572646773585213112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=8572646773585213112' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/8572646773585213112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/8572646773585213112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/12/christmas-card.html' title='Christmas Card'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-5071551272267508563</id><published>2007-12-18T19:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-18T19:36:00.926-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Song Lyrics'/><title type='text'>Metropolitan Glide</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="https://www.ballroominmotion.com/images/public/762544B7-4FCA-4DFF-9A9D86445548370C.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://www.ballroominmotion.com/images/public/762544B7-4FCA-4DFF-9A9D86445548370C.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We want to get your moves smooth enough for you to slide in on any dance floor with confidence!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Glide Dance Shoes are made from the highest quality leather and fabrics. All of our Ballroom and Round Dance shoes feature cushioned innersoles that provide great comfort and protect feet from shock and stress while at the same time being extremely lightweight. For added comfort, in addition to our cushioned innersoles, we also offer a padded sole for an additional charge. This provides extra protection to the dancer. All men's shoes are made from extremely soft, form fitting, glove like leather with a dense rubber heel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Starting at just $99.00 Per Pair! (In Stock Only)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Testimonials:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Just another happy customer throwing in my 2 cents about Glide Dance Shoes. Any time there has been a problem, they have been quick and most willing to resolve it to my satisfaction. Theirs are the only shoes I buy anymore, and I've ordered "street" shoes from them as well. They definitely should be included on any list! Barbara-dancer from MI&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My wife (and others we know) have taken regular keds-type tennis shoes to the shoemaker to have split leather soles glued on. These work very well for workshop dancing. This can also be done with fancier shoes that might not have a sole appropriate for dancing. Glide has soles that you can order for this purpose if you dare to glue the soles on yourself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;*****For those on a tight budget, or those who want more than one pair of dance shoes, or those who just like doing things their way -- try creating your own soles. A piece of good leather (e.g. From Tandy Leather Company) and barge cement are the ingredients. Trace the sole of the shoe on the leather and cut it out. Rough up the current soles of the shoes with sandpaper or by scraping. Apply barge cement on both the bottom of the shoe and the leather. Let dry, then align and push together. Let the shoes dry. Trim. Dance - dancer in New England.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Knocky Parker told Bowlegged Sal They all know how to kick it in Cal They're playing this dope and this-a money tune Dancing baby with a 7 mile broom Things are bulging out the rafters like hell Down there at the Hush Hotel They’re jumping right out of their seats, dancing to the bran’ new beat Do……the Metropolitan Glide Do……the Metropolitan Glide&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-5071551272267508563?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/5071551272267508563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=5071551272267508563' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/5071551272267508563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/5071551272267508563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/12/metropolitan-glide.html' title='Metropolitan Glide'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-4730483011419843720</id><published>2007-12-06T20:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T20:06:11.268-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Take Me Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/XewO1DB96To' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/XewO1DB96To'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Even an old clotheshorse like me succombs to silly girls&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-4730483011419843720?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/4730483011419843720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=4730483011419843720' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/4730483011419843720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/4730483011419843720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/12/take-me-home.html' title='Take Me Home'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-399568747331634589</id><published>2007-11-20T08:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T08:19:12.751-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Soundscape'/><title type='text'>The Science of Sound</title><content type='html'>Great sound engineers are like scientists. They don't make value judgements. What's interesting about working with great engineers is that if you stop by the side of the road and drag something out of the ditch, throw it in the truck and bring it down to the studio, these guys will circle it like it's a moon rock. They'll mic it, hit it with a hammer, and find out the most expeditious way to approach it. Move it around to different parts of the room. They don't make value judgements. They're more like scientists. They get very subjective about the whole issue of sound. But you don't really know when you're going in what you're looking for. Sometimes you find it while you're there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-399568747331634589?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/399568747331634589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=399568747331634589' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/399568747331634589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/399568747331634589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/11/science-of-sound.html' title='The Science of Sound'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-830909934439003123</id><published>2007-11-17T20:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T20:11:05.215-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Latest Dialogue'/><title type='text'>The Latest Dialogue: King of the Nightowls</title><content type='html'>This Old Clotheshorse has been moderating the Keeper of the Boneyard's Forums. Here is the latest dialogue:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tom Waits is probably the most underrated songwriter &amp;amp; musician of my lifetime. He’s one of the most wonderful there is. I, uh, thought his wife was from Illinois? (And &lt;a href="http://www.jasonfalkner.net/tabs/johnsburgil.txt" rel="nofollow"&gt;a different song&lt;/a&gt;) Or maybe that’s a different wife. Or she moved, who knows. Tom Waits is a jersey girl? Well there you see the perils of rewriting the last half of a paragraph without looking at the first half. G’night folks! Tom Waits is an over rated pianist or should I say penis! Leon Redbone. I play with the current bass player for Tom Waits. Waits is an interesting guy. Bless you Tom. Tom Waits has more talent in one finger than everybody else on the current Billboard Hot 100…have you ever seen him in concert, this guy makes the hair on my neck stand up…I have every CD he’s ever made. To me he’s up there with Dylan…He should run for president with maybe Paris Hilton as his vice president…they’d make a lovely pair..Personally, I agree w. everyone here that Waits is a national treasure. Closest I ever got to him was sharing a baggage carousel for a NY/LA flight that got in around 3AM LA time. I thought that was appropriate considering he’s the king of the night owls.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-830909934439003123?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/830909934439003123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=830909934439003123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/830909934439003123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/830909934439003123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/11/latest-dialogue-king-of-nightowls.html' title='The Latest Dialogue: King of the Nightowls'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-4366589563007352801</id><published>2007-11-15T17:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T17:15:36.072-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Songwriting'/><title type='text'>Blending Up The Entrails</title><content type='html'>This old clotheshorse gets up in the morning, lifts the lid on the blender and pours in some skimmed milk, a spoonful of frozen yogurt, a mix of fruit, orange juice, and maybe a handful of flax seed, and he's ready to face the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about the Keeper of the Boneyard he wondered?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;''Most songwriters, you can trace back what they've been listening to,'' the Keeper said. ''It's like you can go through the entrails of any animal and tell what the last three days were like. How do you reconcile your irreconcilable musical desires and dreams and wishes and memories? You may not be able to make one thing out of it. I think I feel more comfortable trying to visit different places. I don't know if I have anything that I've made that's a synthesis of the things I love. I don't think I leave it in the blender long enough.''&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-4366589563007352801?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/4366589563007352801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=4366589563007352801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/4366589563007352801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/4366589563007352801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/11/blending-up-entrails.html' title='Blending Up The Entrails'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-6292435157207637207</id><published>2007-11-08T09:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T09:15:51.164-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Influences'/><title type='text'>Bogart and Bergman Mold Jell-O</title><content type='html'>So you think about the influence of spouses, how they shape your otherwise shapeless lives, and so you think about Kathleen Brennan, and you wonder as you do about the collaborative process, and it comes out something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! Well, you know, "You wash, I'll dry." It all comes down to making choices and a lot of decisions. You know, are we gonna do a song about our cruise ship, or a meadow, or a brothel, or... just a rhapsody, or is it a parlor song or a work song or a field holler? What is it? The form itself is like a Jell-O mold. It's like doing anything that you would do with someone. "You hold it right there while I hit it," or the other way around. You find a rhythm in the way of working. I trust her opinion above all else. You've gotta have somebody to trust, that knows a lot. She's done a lot of things. I'm Ingrid Bergman and she's Bogart. She's got a pilot's license, and she was gonna be a nun before we got married. I put an end to that. She knows about everything from motorcycle repair to high finance, and she's an excellent pianist. One of the leading authorities on the African violet. She's a lot of strong material. She's like Superwoman, standing there with her cape flapping. It works. We've been at this for some time now. Sometimes you quarrel, and it's the result of irritation, and sometimes it comes out of the ground like a potato and we marvel at it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-6292435157207637207?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/6292435157207637207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=6292435157207637207' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/6292435157207637207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/6292435157207637207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/11/bogart-and-bergman-mold-jell-o.html' title='Bogart and Bergman Mold Jell-O'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-5926904637179865110</id><published>2007-10-31T20:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T20:53:20.817-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Song Lyrics'/><title type='text'>Everything You Can Think Of Is True</title><content type='html'>everything you can think of is true&lt;br /&gt;before the ocean was blue&lt;br /&gt;you were lost in a flood&lt;br /&gt;run red with your blood's nigerian skeleton crew&lt;br /&gt;everything you can think of is true&lt;br /&gt;the dish ran away with the spoon&lt;br /&gt;dig deep in your heart for that little red glow&lt;br /&gt;we're decomposing as we go&lt;br /&gt;everything you can think of is true&lt;br /&gt;and fishes make wishes on you&lt;br /&gt;we're fighting our way up dreamland's spine&lt;br /&gt;with black flamingos, expensive wine&lt;br /&gt;everything you can think of is true&lt;br /&gt;the baby's asleep in your shoe&lt;br /&gt;your teeth are buildings with yellow doors&lt;br /&gt;your eyes are fish on a creamy shore&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-5926904637179865110?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/5926904637179865110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=5926904637179865110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/5926904637179865110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/5926904637179865110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/10/everything-you-can-think-of-is-true.html' title='Everything You Can Think Of Is True'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-6619409566668313626</id><published>2007-10-31T20:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T20:46:18.491-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The poetry of Tom Waits'/><title type='text'>The Piano Has Been Drinking</title><content type='html'>The piano has been drinking, my necktie is asleep&lt;br /&gt;And the combo went back to New York, the jukebox has to take a leak&lt;br /&gt;And the carpet needs a haircut, and the spotlight looks like a prison break&lt;br /&gt;And the telephone's out of cigarettes, and the balcony is on the make&lt;br /&gt;And the piano has been drinking,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the piano has been drinking... And the menus are all freezing, and the light man's blind in one eye&lt;br /&gt;And he can't see out of the other&lt;br /&gt;And the piano-tuner's got a hearing aid, and he showed up with his mother&lt;br /&gt;And the piano has been drinking,&lt;br /&gt;the piano has been drinking As the bouncer is a sumo wrestler cream-puff casper milktoast /And the owner is a mental midget with the IQ of a fence post /'cause the piano has been drinking, the piano has been drinking...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you can't find your waitress with a Geiger counter&lt;br /&gt;And she hates you and your friends and you just can't get served without her&lt;br /&gt;And the box-office is drooling, and the bar stools are on fire&lt;br /&gt;And the newspapers were fooling, and the ash-trays have retired&lt;br /&gt;because the piano has been drinking, the piano has been drinking&lt;br /&gt;The piano has been drinking, not me, not me, not me, not me, not me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-6619409566668313626?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/6619409566668313626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=6619409566668313626' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/6619409566668313626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/6619409566668313626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/10/piano-has-been-drinking-my-necktie-is.html' title='The Piano Has Been Drinking'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-3056719795870316172</id><published>2007-10-29T08:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T21:42:42.672-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Language of Tom Waits'/><title type='text'>Only Mary Loves Tom Waits: Truth Conditionals</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://img.sparknotes.com/figures/8/84ba14d565517459113594f30789b66a/tt3.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://img.sparknotes.com/figures/8/84ba14d565517459113594f30789b66a/tt3.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This old clotheshorse has a real interest in the structure of language and as such an interest in Truth Conditionals. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do not be alarmed, the Keeper of the Boneyard himself, Mr. T. Waits, is no slouch with &lt;a href="http://www.ru.nl/ncs/sub9/program/vanrooy.pdf"&gt;Truth Conditionals&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-3056719795870316172?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/3056719795870316172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=3056719795870316172' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/3056719795870316172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/3056719795870316172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/10/only-mary-loves-tom-waits-truth.html' title='Only Mary Loves Tom Waits: Truth Conditionals'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-3789099788542088931</id><published>2007-10-29T08:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T08:45:24.096-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Boneyard'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bone Machine'/><title type='text'>Bone Machine: A Musical Apocalypse</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://static.rateyourmusic.com/album_images/298.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://static.rateyourmusic.com/album_images/298.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This old clotheshorse is interested in Tom Wait's use of music as an exploration of self. Interesting to take this a step further and to consider the self in the Apocalypse. Thus goes Angela Jones paper of Bone Machine:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Musical Apocalypse: Tom Waits’ Bone Machine&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"As a popular musical re-presentation of apocalypse, Bone Machine, like Derrida’s&lt;br /&gt;apocalyptic tone, can be understood as registering an idea of the apocalyptic as process&lt;br /&gt;and movement, wherein the act of revelation is conceived as a continual, often turbulent&lt;br /&gt;and confusing, unveiling. The result is an understanding of apocalypse which is not&lt;br /&gt;simply an ending to a narrative trajectory, nor which relies on genre-specific imagery or&lt;br /&gt;themes; on the contrary, Bone Machine’s apocalyptic tone constantly disrupts and&lt;br /&gt;destabilizes the eschatological visions and imagery detailed in the lyrics, drawing&lt;br /&gt;attention back to itself as a revelatory gesture which nonetheless obscures as much as it&lt;br /&gt;reveals. I believe that Bone Machine can be interpreted as offering a popular musical&lt;br /&gt;perspective on the apocalypse, thus opening up new and subversive ways of engaging&lt;br /&gt;with this seemingly timeless (and tireless) cultural theme..."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For other clotheshorses with courage, read on: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://forum.llc.ed.ac.uk/issue5/ajones.pdf"&gt;Apocalypse&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-3789099788542088931?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/3789099788542088931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=3789099788542088931' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/3789099788542088931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/3789099788542088931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/10/bone-machine-musical-apocalypse.html' title='Bone Machine: A Musical Apocalypse'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-1761836671395247446</id><published>2007-10-25T21:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T21:23:01.389-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tom Waits - Lie To Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/CkJUIVfHq2s' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/CkJUIVfHq2s'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-1761836671395247446?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/1761836671395247446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=1761836671395247446' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/1761836671395247446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/1761836671395247446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/10/tom-waits-lie-to-me.html' title='Tom Waits - Lie To Me'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-2309587534075248949</id><published>2007-10-25T21:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T21:22:00.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tom Waits - I Don't Want To Grow Up</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/kzKiqk2iynY' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/kzKiqk2iynY'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I Don't Want To Grow Up&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-2309587534075248949?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/2309587534075248949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=2309587534075248949' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/2309587534075248949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/2309587534075248949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/10/tom-waits-i-don-want-to-grow-up.html' title='Tom Waits - I Don&amp;#39;t Want To Grow Up'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-8282616849385991296</id><published>2007-10-24T18:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T18:27:56.517-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Song Lyrics'/><title type='text'>New Coat of Paint</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;New Coat of Paint&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's put a new coat of paint&lt;br /&gt;On this lonesome old town&lt;br /&gt;Set em' up, we'll be knockin' 'em down&lt;br /&gt;You wear a dress&lt;br /&gt;Baby I'll a tie&lt;br /&gt;We'll laugh at that old bloodshot moon&lt;br /&gt;In that burgundy sky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All our scribbled love dreams are lost or thrown away&lt;br /&gt;Here amidst the shuffle of an overflowin' day&lt;br /&gt;Our love needs a transfusion let's shoot it full of wine&lt;br /&gt;Fishin' for a good time starts with throwin' in your line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let's put a new coat of paint&lt;br /&gt;On this lonesome old town&lt;br /&gt;Set em' up, set em' up we'll be knockin' 'em down&lt;br /&gt;You wear a dress baby&lt;br /&gt;I'll wear a tie&lt;br /&gt;We'll laugh at that old bloodshot moon&lt;br /&gt;In that burgundy sky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-8282616849385991296?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/8282616849385991296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=8282616849385991296' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/8282616849385991296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/8282616849385991296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/10/new-coat-of-paint.html' title='New Coat of Paint'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-9146959380130068851</id><published>2007-10-23T20:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T20:07:10.460-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Minutiae of Things - How Do You Like Your Eggs?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/"&gt;Dead Beat&lt;/a&gt; was born in a salvage yard, raised in a pawn shop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm interested in things when I don't know what they are. Like "Hey, Ray, what the hell is this?" Oh, that's lipstick from the 1700s, that's dog food from the turn of the century, that's a hat from World War II. I'm interested in the minutiae of things. Oddities."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And you bring those into your music?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think it lets you incorporate your own voice into the voice of the instrument. By nature, I think we're all curious and looking for mutations all the time. It's not peculiar to me. I guess it's a question of taste. How do you like your eggs?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hard boiled has got to be the answer&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-9146959380130068851?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/9146959380130068851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=9146959380130068851' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/9146959380130068851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/9146959380130068851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/10/minutiae-of-things-how-do-you-like-your.html' title='The Minutiae of Things - How Do You Like Your Eggs?'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-3216608571973179496</id><published>2007-10-18T09:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T09:53:52.834-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Influences'/><title type='text'>Captain Beefheart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/e/e1/Captainbeefheart.jpg/220px-Captainbeefheart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/e/e1/Captainbeefheart.jpg/220px-Captainbeefheart.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The roughest diamond in the mine, his musical inventions are made of bone and mud. Enter the strange matrix of his mind and lose yours. This is indispensable for the serious listener. An expedition into the centre of the earth, this is the high jump record that'll never be beat, it's a merlot reduction sauce. He takes da bait. Dante doing the buck and wing at a Skip James suku jump. Drink once and thirst no more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-3216608571973179496?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/3216608571973179496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=3216608571973179496' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/3216608571973179496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/3216608571973179496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/10/captain-beefheart.html' title='Captain Beefheart'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-5487103464654318385</id><published>2007-10-16T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T19:31:05.134-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Get Behind The Mule</title><content type='html'>Get Behind the Mule&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Molly be damned smote Jimmy the Harp With a horrid little pistol and a lariat She's goin to the bottom And she's goin down the drain Said she wasn't big enough to carry it She got to get behind the Mule In the morning and plow She got to get behind the Mule In the morning and plow She got to get behind the Mule In the morning and plow She got to get behind the Mule In the morning and plow Choppity chop goes the axe in the woods You gotta meet me by the fall down tree Shovel of dirt upon a coffin lid And I know they'll come lookin for me boys And I know they'll come a-lookin for me Got to get behind the Mule In the morning and plow Got to get behind the Mule In the morning and plowGot to get behind the MuleIn the morning and plowGot to get behind the MuleIn the morning and plowBig Jack Earl was 8'1He stood in the road and he criedHe couldn't make her love himCouldn't make her stayBut tell the good Lord that he tried(Chorus)Dusty trail from Atchison to PlacervilleOn the wreck of the Weaverville stageBeaula fired on Beatty for a lemonadeI was stirring my brandy with a nail boysStirring my brandy with a nail(Chorus)Well the rampaging sons of the widow JamesJack the cutter and the pock marked kidHad to stand naked at the bottomOf the crossAnd tell the good lord what they didTell the good lord what they did(Chorus)Punctuated birds on the power lineIn a Studebaker with the Birdie Joe JoaksI'm diggin all the way to ChinaWith a silver spoonWhile the hangman fumbles with the noose, boysThe hangman fumbles with the noose(Chorus)Pin your ear to the wisdom postPin your eye to the lineNever let the weeds get higherThan the gardenAlways keep a sapphire in your mindAlways keep a diamond in your mind(Chorus)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-5487103464654318385?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/5487103464654318385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=5487103464654318385' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/5487103464654318385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/5487103464654318385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/10/get-behind-mule.html' title='Get Behind The Mule'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-4451778093850535179</id><published>2007-10-16T19:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T19:09:16.160-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tom Waits Jukebox</title><content type='html'>1. Hound Dog - Big Mama Thornton&lt;br /&gt;2. It Should Have Been Me - Charles, Ray (1)&lt;br /&gt;3. Strange Fruit - Holiday, Billie&lt;br /&gt;4. 'Round Midnight - Davis, Miles&lt;br /&gt;5. Abilene - Lightnin' Hopkins&lt;br /&gt;6. Pretty Boy Floyd - Elliott, 'Ramblin' Jack&lt;br /&gt;7. Straight No Chaser - Monk, Thelonious&lt;br /&gt;8. Street - Partch, Harry&lt;br /&gt;9. On The Road - Kerouac, Jack&lt;br /&gt;10. Supermarket In California - Ginsberg, Allen&lt;br /&gt;11. Ice Cream Man - Brim, John&lt;br /&gt;12. One For My Baby (And One More For The Road) - Sinatra, Frank&lt;br /&gt;13. Ring Around The World Phase 1 - Partch, Harry&lt;br /&gt;14. Gee Baby Ain't I Good To You - Cole, Nat 'King'&lt;br /&gt;15. Mack The Knife - Armstrong, Louis&lt;br /&gt;16. Last Days Of The Suicide Kid - Bukowski, Charles&lt;br /&gt;17. Evil (Is Goin' On) - Howlin' Wolf&lt;br /&gt;18. Dark Was The Night Cold Was The Ground - Johnson, 'Blind' Willie (1)&lt;br /&gt;19. Nobody's Fault But Mine - Johnson, 'Blind' Willie (1)&lt;br /&gt;20. Ring Around The World Phase 4 - Partch, Harry&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-4451778093850535179?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/4451778093850535179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=4451778093850535179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/4451778093850535179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/4451778093850535179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/10/tom-waits-jukebox.html' title='Tom Waits Jukebox'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-1998168569339658072</id><published>2007-10-15T21:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T21:32:54.124-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tom Waits - Tom Traubert's Blues - 1977</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/9ZmqbcBsTAw' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/9ZmqbcBsTAw'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-1998168569339658072?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/1998168569339658072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=1998168569339658072' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/1998168569339658072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/1998168569339658072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/10/tom-waits-tom-traubert-blues-1977.html' title='Tom Waits - Tom Traubert&amp;#39;s Blues - 1977'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-2717839168030599757</id><published>2007-10-15T21:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T21:31:22.419-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tom Waits - You Can Never Hold Back Spring</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/vgeZEdbv_m8' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/vgeZEdbv_m8'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-2717839168030599757?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/2717839168030599757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=2717839168030599757' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/2717839168030599757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/2717839168030599757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/10/tom-waits-you-can-never-hold-back.html' title='Tom Waits - You Can Never Hold Back Spring'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-3277621964208159055</id><published>2007-10-15T20:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T20:51:59.507-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And The Seventh Days Petals Fell In Petaluma</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.artistdirect.com/nad/window/media/player/0,,323464-6227267-WMLO,00.html"&gt;And The Seventh Days Petals Fell In Petaluma&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-3277621964208159055?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/3277621964208159055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=3277621964208159055' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/3277621964208159055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/3277621964208159055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/10/and-seventh-days-petals-fell-in.html' title='And The Seventh Days Petals Fell In Petaluma'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-2301271510204052247</id><published>2007-10-15T20:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T20:44:47.384-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Harry Partch</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/EWr_MOVIvj4' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/EWr_MOVIvj4'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;An Old Clotheshorse Brews Himself A Pot of Tea&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-2301271510204052247?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/2301271510204052247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=2301271510204052247' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/2301271510204052247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/2301271510204052247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/10/harry-partch.html' title='Harry Partch'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6590944406015822582.post-6326161212040453232</id><published>2007-10-15T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T20:31:56.622-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Influences'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Harry Partch'/><title type='text'>Harry Partch Collection Vol 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.virtualvenice.info/music/musicpics/partch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.virtualvenice.info/music/musicpics/partch.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Old Clotheshorse hangs himself out to dry:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The new CDs have been reissued and the sound is excellent. These are an excellent introduction to his whole oeuvre. He’d worked as a migrant worker and had been on the road for half his life, and he was one of those rogue academics who worked outside the matrix. So they feared him and pretended to admire him. Like most innovators, he becomes gravel on the road that most people drive on. So he was the first one through the door and the crowd tramples him. But nobody has done anything like that since. The idea of designing your own instruments, playing them and then designing your own scale, your own system of music. That’s dramatic and particularly for the time that he was doing it. It was rather subversive. It’s always fascinating to hear something being played that doesn’t sound polished or evolved as an instrument. It still sounds a little bit like you’re hitting tractor parts or a dumpster door. Or you’re still in the kitchen, to an extent. The music has that extra texture to it. And then of course he’s very sophisticated and well versed in mythology so it’s got that other side to it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6590944406015822582-6326161212040453232?l=anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/feeds/6326161212040453232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6590944406015822582&amp;postID=6326161212040453232' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/6326161212040453232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6590944406015822582/posts/default/6326161212040453232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anoldclotheshorse.blogspot.com/2007/10/harry-partch-collection-vol-1.html' title='Harry Partch Collection Vol 1'/><author><name>Dead Beat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13946921909742909463</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://www.gerardbeirne.com/home_page/Home/IMAG0000.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
