King Crimson, for Dustbury (Cat Food)

chit-chat, chit-chat, chit-chat

King Crimson.1982
King Crimson.1982
In doing those Favorite Songs by Favorite Bands posts, J. Eric Smith picked King Crimson as his current favorite. The band didn’t make my list, because I don’t have enough of their albums. I do enjoy their music, in their various incarnations.

Meanwhile, this week is the first anniversary of the death of the legendary blogger Dustbury, a/k/a Charles G. Hill. I wrote about him here. “Charles was the person most likely to comment on a piece I wrote about music. He would add an anecdote or an obscure detail. Or write about it himself.”

I made some passing reference to the song Cat Food by King Crimson as one of my favorites. It’s on Eric’s list too, BTW. Chaz electronically chuckled at that obscure reference.

Unfortunately, the links I made to his blog don’t work anymore as his blog has closed. FORTUNATELY, it still lives on via the Wayback Machine.

Some King Crimson

Epitath. “Confusion will be my epitath.”
In The Wake Of Poseidon
Frame By Frame

Pictures Of A City
The Court of the Crimson King
Cat Food

Indiscipline. I had a boss who would look at the business he built. He’d say some of these lyrics:
I repeat myself when under stress
I repeat myself when under stress
I repeat myself when under stress
I repeat myself when under stress
I repeat-

(Actually, we ALL said THAT…)

The more I look at it
The more I like it
Heh, I do think it’s good
The fact is…
No matter how closely I study it
No matter how I take it apart
No matter how I’ll break it down
It remains consistent
I wish you were here to see it!

21st Century Schizoid Man

I’ve probably quoted part of this song on this blog more than any other

For instance, back in 2006. Elephant Talk – I own, and prefer the dance remix.

Talk, it’s only talk
Arguments, agreements
Advice, answers
Articulate announcements

Babble, burble, banter
Bicker, bicker, bicker
Brouhaha, balderdash, ballyhoo
Back talk

Comments, cliches, commentary, controversy
Chatter, chit-chat, chit-chat, chit-chat
Conversation, contradiction, criticism
Cheap talk

Debates, discussions
Dialog, duologue, diatribe
Dissention, declamation
Double talk, double talk

Expressions, editorials
Explanations, exclamations, exaggerations
It’s all talk
Elephant talk

50 Greatest Prog Rock Albums of All Time

In the Court of the Crimson King I played a great deal in high school AND college, preferably very loudly

fragile.yesYeah, another Rolling Stone list, this time of “progressive rock” albums that I own. I’m not sure what the term “prog rock” means, precisely, but I hope, now that Rush has been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2013, that Emerson, Lake & Palmer; King Crimson; and especially Yes get in one of these years.

17. Mike Oldfield, ‘Tubular Bells’ (1973): 45 weeks on the charts, getting to #3

I never actually SAW the movie The Exorcist Continue reading “50 Greatest Prog Rock Albums of All Time”

I Talk To the Wind

The truth is, that morning, the song I was REALLY singing was Windy by the Association.

Back on April 27, the Albany, NY area had a WIND advisory. I’m stubborn, though, since it was ostensibly warm enough to ride my bike to a certain point (by the school on Northern Boulevard for you locals). I needed the exercise, though I required gloves and a knit cap, because, as Jaquandor wrote about the winter: “Wind can pretty much render any set of weather circumstances unpleasant.” That piece came to mind during the sojourn.

How was it possible that I was ALWAYS riding into a headwind?

I get to my initial destination, waiting for a bus. It was trash day, and a piece of recycling had fallen out. Ever get a deli platter for a party? In the US, at least, the bottom section is usually black. As it started moving around, I decided to pick it up. It would move just out of my reach, as though someone had tied a string on it and was yanking it away in a minor comedy. I finally stepped on it, retrieved it, and placed it in the recycling bin.

By this time, the clear plastic top of the platter combo, much lighter in weight, was blown out of the recycling bin, and just took off, out into the street, against traffic, at about 12 miles per hour; I had no chance of retrieving it, but I marveled at its peculiar artistry.

On the way home, it wasn’t bad heading south, but heading west was very difficult. Usually, I just take lengthy stretches in each direction, but on that day, I’d zig down one street, and zag down another to avoid an extended ride into the wind. The distance was not much farther, but I got home, unusually exhausted.

The title reference was to a song by King Crimson. But the truth is, that morning, the song I was REALLY singing was Windy by the Association; hey, it’s jauntier!