Status Updates posted by AC Benus
@Reader1810 I uploaded the "Summer" image from the 1922 Famous-Barr mailers. I'm still looking for spring and winter
Happy Autumn from Famous-Barr!
(This is part of their 1922 quarterly mailer; I now have two of the four )
Not only was Blind Boy Fuller one of the greatest blues guitarists of all time -- in the recording, in addition to the treble and bass music, all the percussion sounds you hear are made my Fuller striking the body of his guitar -- but in 1940 he laid down the first 100% Rock and Roll song. Enjoy Step It Up and Go.
Why is this guy just a footnote in music history?
He’s not even mentioned on the utterly commercial give-us-yer-money “Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame” website, yet they happily list the likes of Mick Jagger who (along with every other rock and roll star) has this guy and others to thank for a whole lifetime career - which, to be fair, Jagger has freely acknowledged. Yet the so-called RARHOF just ignores Fuller. Shame on them.
@Zombie ...well, you think race has anything to do with it...? For a long time even Chuck Berry was shunned in favor of Rock "pioneers" like Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis.
As for Fuller's recordings, they are all very interesting. If there is such a thing as Randy Newman fans out there anymore (hehehe...), then they'd be surprised to learn his style is a total ripoff of Blind Boy Fuller. This song will show that
"What's that smell like fish (mamma)?" 1938
@AC Benus “you think race has anything to do with it...?“
Not in the UK - the “Northern Soul” movement that began in the 60s was always a celebration of black US music and is just one (significant) example. It was a badge of honour to discover the most obscure black musicians no-one else knew about, eschewing the likes of “white” friendly Motown. Another example would, of course, be the BBC - so for the likes of John Peel on his radio show the more obscure the better!
For “ordinary Jo” folks it’s simply a matter of ignorance, especially in the current world of pop “celebrity”
1972 Pride Poster
Bohuslav Matoušek and Petr Adamec perform Dvorak's Romance for Piano and Violin, Op. 11
Gene Austin performing "Lonesome Road"
Toby and Redburn's love theme
...a tear-jerker this... Nick Drake performs Saturday Sun while his sister records at their family home
“Love is a buoy that floats; that can lift
Deepest thoughts from the bottom of despair –
Love is the anchor stopping boats adrift
From letting their keels wander unaware…”
"So, to this sudden and gloomy surmising of outsiders, an author goes with a headache to sit at his desk. The blank page tortures and seems fit only for the critic's words of displeasure. And nowhere is the thought that minds one hundred-fifty years from now – neigh, fifteen-hundred-fifty years from now – will praise what he considers his best work. With a writer his only errant hope remains that the pen within his grasp will somehow prove the initiative to enter the great universal truth as an equal on the day his coffin is interred with the soil that bore his paltry body here on earth."
I’m pleased to announce my book Summer 2020 – Hell in a Handbasket, A Poetry Collection is in review for this year’s Pulitzer Prize in Poetry. I hope you wish me the best of luck.
"You may be sorry, but I'm not." Seventy-eight-year-old contestant gets the best of Groucho Marx in this clip. One of the funniest things I've seen...
I started on foot at three in the morning,
fully intending to be back by eight o’clock;
but I lose myself in the lanes; I forget myself
on the banks of the river; I run after butterflies;
and I get home at midday in a state
of torrefaction impossible to describe. […]
To throw yourself into the lap of mother nature:
to take her really for mother and sister;
stoically and religiously to cut off from your life
what is mere gratified vanity; obstinately
to resist the proud and the wicked; to make
yourself humble with the unfortunate, to weep
with the misery of the poor; not desire
another consolation than chiding the rich;
to acknowledge no other God than He
who ordains justice and equality among people;
to venerate what is good; to severely castigate
those who are merely strong; to live on little,
yet give away much in order to reestablish
a primal equality and resuscitate the life
of Divine Intuition: such is all the religion
I shall proclaim from the little corner of my own,
to an apostles-twelve under the lime trees of my garden.
“I started on foot at three in the morning” George Sand (pseudonym for Amandine Aurore Lucie Dupin) letter to Madame d’Agoult (July 10th, 1836) The Love of Friends, New York 1997, ps. 98-99
"While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay
There are frail forms fainting at the door
Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say
Oh, hard times, come again no more."
The following was published by a great novelist of her day to help fight the twin oppression LGBT people faced from fascists and thumb-sucking, sex-obsessed psychoanalysts. Her language here seems strikingly modern for today's gender discussions.
from Women in a Changing Civilization
[People should] release their richness of variety. We still are greatly ignorant of our own natures. We do not know how much of what we usually describe as ‘feminine characteristics’ are really ‘masculine,’ and how much ‘masculinity’ is common to both sexes. […] We do not even know – though we theorize and penalize with ferocious confidence – whether the ‘normal’ sexual relationship is homo- or bi- or heterosexual.
“from Women in a Changing Civilization” Winifred Holtby Not a Passing Phase (London 1989), p. 144 https://archive.org/details/notpassingphaser00lesb/page/144/mode/2up
I've always said that men and women are more alike than different, we are just socialised to be different. And what is normal? Just because you're in the majority in any society/group doesn't make you "normal".
And isn’t it a bitch that something said nearly ninety years ago we STILL haven’t learnt from.
This page is so sweet
...back to the young pilot killed in WW1, the following poem should be known by heart by every LGBT poet...
To a Friend
Thy voice, as tender as the light
That shivers low at eve –
Thy hair, where myriad flashes bright
Do in and outward weave –
Thy charms in their diversity
Half frighten and astonish me.
Thy hands, that move above the keys
With eager touch and swift –
Whereby thy mind, with magic ease
Doth into music drift –
They fill me with a strange delight
That doth defy expression quite.
Thine eyes, that hold a mirth subdued –
Like deep pools scattering fire –
Mine dare not meet them in their mood,
For fear of my desire,
Lest thou that secret do descry
Which evermore I must deny.
Thy very quiet dignity
Thy silence, too, I love –
Nay – thy light word is destiny
Decreed in spheres above –
My mind, my heart is bowed to thee,
And hard it is that I must flee.
Hard is a world that dare not give
For every love a place:
Hard is a power that bids us live
A life bereft of grace –
Hard, hard to lose thy figure dear,
My star and my religion here.
James Fenimore Cooper, II
"Hard is a world that dare not give for every love a place"
Please check it out
For the first week of August, Summer 2020 – Hell in a Handbasket will be available as a free downloadable e-book from Kindle and Amazon. Check out the link, and if you like the book, and/or think the work is important, tell your friends and family to hurry and get their own free copy.
This offer is available on all international Amazon sites as well; just search “AC Benus” on Amazon.co.UK, .DE, .FR, .JP, etc., etc., etc.
I downloaded your book. Stirring, your voice is heard loud and clear. Fitting for the times we're in. Congrats on publishing your work :).
@BDANRThank you for reading it, and encouraging me I'd be honored and grateful if you give the book 5 stars and repeat your comments above as a review on Amazon. Every little bit helps. Thanks again!
Now we have parted, and the day
Brings not the hope of seeing thee
Now thou hast taken that dark way
That long I feared one thing I pray:
Forget me not!
By daylight and by moonlight grey
I swear I only think of thee;
And often stopping by the way
I say the things I did not say:
Forget me not!
Chide, upbraid me if thou wilt,
I’ll own my failings every one
Forswear the dreams that we have built --
I only ask to know my guilt
Forget me not!
Thy silence haunts me day by day
And whispereth that in thy joy
Of living, I am cast away
Yet once, O once, to thee I’ll say
Forget me not!
...a morning thought...
What's it all about –
life and death viewed through their muddles,
with silver streaking each raincloud
and gasoline rainbows plying city puddles.
Life and death's the same –
the be or not to be a-tomb,
sublime upon a razor's edge,
balancing free of thoughts concerned, or those of doom.
Cheers to one and all –
the proverbial light in dark,
the good with evil in the scales,
and merry songs through tempests sounding only stark.
That which we dare invoke to bless;Our dearest faith; our ghastliest doubt;He, They, One, All; within, without;The Power in darkness whom we guess;I found Him not in world or sun,Or eagle's wing, or insect's eye;Nor through the questions men may try,The petty cobwebs we have spun:If e'er when faith had fall'n asleep,I heard a voice `believe no more'And heard an ever-breaking shoreThat tumbled in the Godless deep;A warmth within the breast would meltThe freezing reason's colder part,And like a man in wrath the heartStood up and answered "I have felt."No, like a child in doubt and fear:But that blind clamour made me wise;Then was I as a child that cries,But, crying, knows his father near;And what I am beheld againWhat is, and no man understands;And out of darkness came the handsThat reach through nature, moulding men.Tennyson
Nina Simone, Isn't it a Pity