Eddie Vedder singing Tom Petty’s “Room At The Top”
I got a room at the top of the world tonight
I can see everything tonight
I got a room where everyone
Can have a drink and forget those things
That went wrong in their life
I got a room at the top of the world tonight
I got a room at the top of the world tonight
I got a room at the top of the world tonight
And I ain't comin' down, I ain't comin' down
We were born before the wind
Also younger than the sun
Ere the bonnie boat was won
As we sailed into the mystic
Hark, now hear the sailors cry
Smell the sea and feel the sky
Let your soul and spirit fly
Into the mystic
And when that fog horn blows
I will be coming home, mmm mmm
And when the fog horn blows
I want to hear it
I don't have to fear it
I wanna rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
Then magnificently we will float
Into the mystic
When that fog horn blows
You know I will be coming home
And when that fog horn whistle blows
I gotta hear it
I don't have to fear it
And I wanna rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
And together we will float
Into the mystic
Come on girl
“What makes the Rickenbacker 12-string unique for you compared to other guitars?There’s something interesting about its hollow body. It’s only about 2″ thick, but it’s got a ring to it – the pickups they use and the way they string it, with the high string last. On a 12-string, the high string is usually first when you pluck down. But the Rickenbackers were strung with a high string last, so you hit the low string and the high string, which gave it more of a ring.”
A terrific inside-guitar interview with a key figure in rock and roll history.
http://www.vintageguitar.com/30052/roger-mcguinn/
No, she didn’t die. I always post this photo whenever I stumble on it. Gail Harris knows why.
I HATE restringing my 1965 Martin D-18!
East Coasters went to the Newport Folk Festival in the Summer of 1967, where acoustic folk and blues still ruled. But if you were on the West Coast, this was certainly where it was at, and it was the direction music would go in from this point forward.
(And regarding ticket prices, I think I was making $1.25/hour, which was considered a pretty good rate back then.)
"Nicks’s default response to betrayal is more introspective than aggressive. Her music has long been considered a balm for certain stubborn strains of heartache; her songs are unsparing regarding the brutality of loss, yet they are buoyed by a kind of subtle optimism. It’s as if, by the time Nicks got around to singing about something, she already knew that she would survive it."
From a very good profile by Amanda Petrusich in The New Yorker.
I've gotten real tired of typing those three letters this year. Damn.
Another great American songwriter gone.
Just outside the Chelsea Hotel in Manhattan.
Hope you have got your things together.
It was a cup of coffee, in case you were wondering.
You've got to pick up every stitch. Stephen Stills, Mike Bloomfield, and Al Kooper get you ready for Halloween with a Donovan tune. And a Gil Elvgren witch.
Wow!
I hadn't listened closely to the lyrics in quite a while before tonight.
Run for Your Life
Well I'd rather see you dead, little girl
Than to be with another man
You better keep your head, little girl
Or I won't know where I am
You better run for your life if you can, little girl
Hide your head in the sand little girl
Catch you with another man
That's the end ah little girl
Well I know that I'm a wicked guy
And I was born with a jealous mind
And I can't spend my whole life
Trying just to make you toe the line
Youbetter run for your life if you can, little girl
Hide your head in the sand little girl
Catch you with another man
That's the end ah little girl
Let this be a sermon
I mean everything I've said
Baby, I'm determined
And I'd rather see you dead
You better run for your life if you can, little girl
Hide your head in the sand little girl
Catch you…
Good morning!
Bob Dylan's Minnesota high school takes a little bit of credit for his Nobel Prize.
Keith Richards
All Along The Watchtower
There must be some kind of way outta here
Said the joker to the thief
There's too much confusion
I can't get no relief
Business men, they drink my wine
Plowman dig my earth
None of them along the line
Know what any of it is worth
No reason to get excited
The thief he kindly spoke
There are many here among us
Who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I, we've been through that
And this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now
The hour's getting late
All along the watchtower
Princes kept the view
While all the women came and went
Barefoot servants, too
Outside in the cold distance
A wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching
And the wind began to howl
Written by Bob Dylan • Copyright © EMI Music Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Something is happening, but you don't know what it is. Do you, Mister Jones?
