BOB LOG III, Ruby Lounge Manchester England, April 24th 2014

BOBLOGBANNER
“N. Senada’s (Bavarian Composer -1907-1993) “Theory of Obscurity” states that an artist can only produce pure art when the expectations and influences of the outside world are not taken into consideration.”

I shouldn’t have to be writing this because you should have been there yourself. Luckily for you, Bob is a natural phenomenon that, like some integral celestial body circles the Planet Earth every year, so you can ensure you don’t miss him next time. Though maybe it’s us that orbits him. Anyway until next year…

The Sunday Song Poem #9 ‘Feeling Beside Myself’ Buddy Raye

feelingbesidemyself

Despite the papal canonisation today (broadcast in 3D to select cinemas and News channels, anyone catch that, did they have that swinging, incense lantern flying out atcha?), I feel like I should eschew the subject since I kind of already did the Holy Song Poem last Sunday. Not only that, but try as I might I couldn’t find a Song Poem for a Pope, which I find hard to believe having encountered a fair few about Richard Nixon, Elvis, Christopher Columbus, and Sexploitation actors turned male midwives. So instead I decided to just go straight for the crazy, literally in today’s case.

The (Easter) Sunday Song Poem #8 ‘The Man Called Jesus’ By Unknown Artist

Jesus

The Sunday Song Poem has been absent for a little while, but I’m back.

“14 Later, he appeared to them as they were eating; he rebuked them for their lack of faith and their stubborn refusal to believe those who had seen him after he had risen.

15 He said to them, “Go into all the world and preach the Song Poems to all creation. 16 Whoever believes will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned.”

The Sunday Song Poem #8 ‘Midwifery’ (1975) Norris the Troubadour

birth“HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!” …that’s what I’d be saying to you if you were here in England, and you had perpetuated your race by having heretofore squeezed a 6lb genetic portmanteau of yourself and whomever’s propagatory fluids had found their way up into your guts 9 month previously. It’s a miracle, a four-times-a-second miracle. But somewhere around the end of the Middle Ages, something went terribly wrong, as humans suddenly lost the ability to spawn as efficiently as they had since the inception of their species.

TWENTY-FIVE YEARS LATER: QUESTIONS IN A WORLD OF BLUE/ANSWERS IN A ROOM OF RED – TWIN PEAKS REVISITED (A ‘Your Fucked Up Childhood’ Special)

twin-peaks-25-years-later

“Oh God. I was just a boy.

I saw him in my dream.

He said he wanted to play.

He opened me and I invited him and he came inside me.”
~ Leland Palmer

The Sunday Song Poem #7 ‘Gretchen’s New Dish (original)’ Dick Kent

Dick+Kent+43Thus far we’ve taken an admittedly flippant dip into the wellspring of bilge, and while this offering will likely seem no different, no less askew, with no less of an ‘otherness’ about it, it occupies a special place in my heart. I like all the Song Poems I’ve posted so far, but something happened to me when I first heard this one…I loved it.

Live from Squaresville: A SXSW Odyssey in Multiple Parts (Phase 6)

Coachwhips

Coachwhips

And our story, our adventure, our foray into the liver damaging, hipter sighting, ear piercing melee that is Austin during SXSW comes to its inevitable close.  This city is going to smell like a dumpster that hobos urinate in for the next 48 hours, but eventually it subsides.  The tents and stages come down.  Beer is no longer free (but on the plus side, non-free beer is no longer marked up 50%).  The vultures are circling.  The circus left town.  And in a year, we’ll all do this again.

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