[NetBehaviour] War, Al Wilson
Alan Sondheim
sondheim at panix.com
Tue Jul 4 06:27:22 CEST 2023
War, Al Wilson
https://youtu.be/kCoAzYdvMTI video
on guitar, impossible, inconceivable. not the group or a group,
the Ukraine war, invasion by sick hordes who remains behind an
international border, leak their poison everywhere. I tried to
play this, bloody arrogance on my part. The guitar sounded like
a guitar, my own thinking deeply ignorant, another error or
worse, another encapsulation, bracketing, of something I can't
conceive of. Not this one, not this time, not ever. That this
can happen? That I am here? R. should burn in hell. What I say
is irrelevant, the sky is green, the ground is glass - inert.
Too many repetitions in my lifetime, from wwii (aw, dad didn't
want me) to roiling (to render turbid by stirring up the dregs
or sediment of; as, to roil wine, cider, etc., in casks or
bottles; to roil a spring.) 'actions' do done, to do, did, will
do, as much damage as possible. So this day I played this day
from here (no one dead yet) this way, stuck some video on it
(moving images from the early Access Grid reversed), broke that
down a bit, but it's in the sound of it, (to render loud, with
clarity, to fear, to run, to turn, into/from/out/within fire;;
there are times I had to run but it was all so so so safe. But
this I fear, thinking through those dregs (turbid life, casked),
what I could do (in my dreams, you) was just this (above), that
sound (did I hear a war) --
Years before now I was close with Al Wilson, later of Canned
Heat. I was in Cambridge and he called me, said I should come
over. There was a junkie on the loose who had murdered two guys
already and was outside his apartment and he was scared. He ran
out to make the phonecall and ran back in. I drove over and went
in the back way, looked in around the front door first. The
whole foyer was smeared with excrement. I went in the back door
and joined him. We heard scratching on the door. We were real
quiet. There was garbage all over Al's floor, about six inches
deep, the room smelled, he was buying one set of clothes at that
point and wearing them until they fell off and he'd get another
one. We stayed up all night and I don't know if they caught the
guy. We were scared out of our minds. I don't remember any
furniture but there must have been some. He was severely
asthmatic. I think it might have been raining out. I don't
remember that one way or another. When I left it was a gray gray
morning. I don't think the police were called. He always seemed
dirt poor, I woke him up once sleeping under the urinals of
Club 47 when he was about to go on. I learned more from him than
from most people. we were born the same year but he died in
1970. I hadn't seen him for years then. I remember going with
him to Philadelphia to meet Guitar Nubbit. You can look him up
too. Philadelphia. All that music was a crisis in my life. I
stopped playing the blues. I looked for everything else. I put
the guitar down and then picked it up. So if you think I had a
normal life, this is the life I've had.
___
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