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There’s A Gun On My Pillow
It was time to take time off. I needed it. No regrets, not one peep of guiltiness. I needed to take off. The plan was to go to Montreal for the music festival I so badly wanted to attend. Well, after getting hit last week, and trying to save money to find a new bumper, it just wasn’t going to happen. Some close colleagues couldn’t go, nor could any of my staff due to prior obligations. But the bonus was, I could see some friends leaving for Iraq soon. The first day off, I decided to head to the Jughandle with Jack. When we arrived, I was starving. The Jug is old. Real old. It’s been there since the mid 1800’s and smells like it, too. So we went on a drabby day, to brighten things up with spirits. Once we arrived, I noticed a childhood crush behind the bar. We rode the bus together when I was 8 and she was a bit older than me, but I always had a crush on her. Unfortunately she brought a lot of memories of how I was on that bus, and understood her sarcasm. Service was ehhhh….but I still left a tip. Don’t fry bacon with your shirt off. We left the Jug and headed back to the office. Jack talked about Bermuda, and I thought of lying down in the Bedruma. I know. That was lame. Whatever, I’m on vacation.
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I can smell the scent of the equinox. It’s here, as am I. The sun says one thing, while my surroundings say another. I was given the clues of truth in achy knees and an urge for a pullover. It’s unstoppable. It’s coming. I fight it. Even though my love affair of it year after year returns, my body begs to differ. I leave the windows off in rebellion. As I move east, I move into overcrowded terrain. Showcased by lights to my right, and spoiled woods to my left. The further I move the closer to the smell of the color green. The road hums beneath my wheels. I can hear the rubber pins on the sides of my tires cut through the air. I am out in the open. My CD player skips at every light bump I approach. It’s agonizing. I move into the crossroads of Marter. Diesel fills the air, as do 19 year old girls driving their first cars on cell phones…and not using turn signals. I crack a slight smile. I light a cigarette before the light changes. Up and left, foot down again, down and left, foot down again, up and center, accelerating all the while. I sled down the hill as the night invades the sky. Much like the approaching autumn, it happens while you are looking for it. I remember a barren road now filled with crammed housing, pizza places, and the smell of broiled burgers. The road grows narrower with passengers. The last majority disperses, and I am alone. I see lonely fields with black and white memories. God, this used to be fun. I’m distracted by an urge to hear what the pushing Phillies are doing. Down, but not out, I listen. I watch the trooper making himself obvious in the brush, while the car behind me slows down quickly. The smell has turned to burning slate. It permeates the air in this place. How do people not get sick here? I put out my cigarette. I see that Dadz makeover can’t really change the clientele that still grovel up. You can’t polish a turd. It’s never going to change, this is how it is. In a way, I am comforted by that. The person ahead is ten miles under. I move, and pass. I approach the winner’s circle. If you are at 15 minutes before the hour, you will get there in good time. This road’s scenery has changed a dozen times while the road itself hasn’t. I hit pot holes that break away to reveal the dirt road it once was. Wal-Mart sits lifeless here. Did they fail here? Out with the old, in with the new doesn’t always work. The fields on my right once occupied, have ‘for sale’ signs. This will be gone soon as well. Maybe not now, but soon. I stare before the White Dotte almost as if to say, ‘relish this now, for you will remember what it once was before it hits you that you have aged’. The light turns green, the road title changes, and the dip makes my bags hit the floor. I pat my dashboard in complimenting my girl, while sugar sand dust remains on my fingers. I smile again. A run gives us the lead. I pass by Cheeks, a place that has failed since Butch left us. I hear big rigs downshift, and my reception cuts out. It’s a race to get to a 35 mph zone as the road narrows. A soon to be lady of the night stands at the old motel trying not be obvious, while the smell of coffee travels from the Dunkin Donuts. Maybe I should have stopped. The light turns green and I move forward, only to stop on the road that shouldn’t be. It follows the old path of the rail line that once ruled here. I have passed the gateway into the kingdom. I arrive to the old path, and make my right. The truck behind me pressures, while I purposely slow down. He backs off, and I turn right. I am at my Saturday night home. My haven. The place that keeps my sanity, and allows me to forget my other world. It’s cozy here. And I run the table. There are deer in the field. I park in the circle and sit. I hear the dried leaves roll by me. It’s time to go in. It’s time to make my people happy. Maybe when I get done I will be happy with what I have done tonight. But seriously, have I ever? I have done this over 572 times here. And again, I acknowledge the equinox.....
What Is And What Should Never Be
It took a while, but the new Mars Volta is in. I had received so many emails leading up to it’s release it got to be frustrating. Many listeners felt we were holding back when in reality, I just didn’t have it. The album was a secret. The new disc is titled Amputechture and is a slight contrast to Francis The Mute, the #1 disc of 2005 in the top 100. The album is more angular and without the help of Jack Luminous of Night Vision, none of you would have heard it! We featured it to wide applause by listeners both locally and internationally. The thing with the Mars Volta based upon listener response is either “I love it”, or “I hate this.” That means….THEY ARE LISTENING. As much as the Mars Volta deny or ignore it, their admiration from the prog rock community is silently very strong. They are doing different things from album to album intelligently enough to garner this. Amputechture will be a top tenner for 2006. #1? I don’t know for sure…but it debuts at #1 in our weekly top 20. A few months back you may have noticed we have featured a new various artists CD titled Giant For An Hour. The CD was released in 2005, and had some favorable response on our program, and will fit in nice with our upcoming Gentle Giant documentary. Well my boy Andy Kubicki has returned with the sequel titled Giant For Another Hour. This new disc features yet another hour of Gentle Giant inspired music by various artists. A must have if you are into the tribute thing….but remember THESE AREN’T REMAKES. Just inspirational music. It’s been quite some time since I played the music of Jade Warrior. 1999 was the last time I think. I decided to make it a 4 week spotlight on each newly reissued release from Eclectic Discs. Originally doing three albums on the Vertigo label, the band sorta split and became a twosome. Field and Duhig were good multi-instrumentalists in a worldly kind of way, and were able to acquire some good session people to help. Island Records President Chris Blackwell fell in love with them after Steve Winwood nudged him a bit and would later say more or less, “Do what you want!” to the band. Now here we are all these years later, and they FINALLY remastered the albums from the original stereo master tapes. They include beautiful liner notes, a deluxe slip case and restored artwork. If you thought the sound and production was great on all those cheapo vinyl releases of these guys, GET THE CD’S! Tonight I featured to wide response, the forthcoming release from Keith Jarrett recorded live at Carnegie Hall last September from the ECM label. A wonderful pianist that you can hear by his humming and breathing that he totally feels what he does. You hear it, and you will know what I mean. We also featured a recent reissue of Rick Wakeman's Beatles tribute album from 1997 just put out on Voiceprint Records.
...For El-ahrairah, It Was A Perfect Day...
"All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies. And whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first, they must catch you, digger, listener, runner, Prince with the swift warren. Be cunning and full of tricks and your people will never be destroyed."
I decided to enjoy my last few days by getting out and driving. Anything to forget the Eagles collapse on Sunday. They gave that one away. Giants didn’t win, we lost. I have been teasing the notion for quite sometime about heading to Springfield Township, northwest of Pemberton, to a place called Arney’s Mount. This stone building at the corner of Pemberton & Arney’s Mount Road was built in 1775 on the foundation of the original log structure. What makes this one different is that it is made of Ironstone, and not brick like the rest of them in south Jersey. The place used to be called Shreve's Mount after Caleb Shreve, the original land owner. It was later changed to Arney's Mount after Arney Lippincott. This Meeting House is still used the second and fourth Sunday of every month for worship. Not to mention, the graves here date far before the building of the Meeting House. As I pulled up in the narrow driveway, I stepped upon the rocks and headed towards what seemed like an old gate that isn’t there anymore. The graves began right up to it. Headstones so old, you couldn’t tell who they were due to years of erosion. It was humbling. The beauty of the whole concept is that everyone knows that the Quakers were mostly known for being in the Philadelphia vicinity. But what people don’t know, was this area was the beginning experiment for Quakers in southern New Jersey. TRUE beginnings here. The Meeting House had two substantial fires…1800 and 1809. There is no running water or gas heat here either. I walked deeper into the cemetery, and started observing what visible names were left to be seen still. I noticed names such as White, Gaskill, Lippincott, Smith, Shreeve, Newbold,….a few Civil War soldiers, young children, and talked to them as if they were still alive as I read their names. What is interesting about this cemetery is that it is on an incline. It’s a beautiful hill with graves, surrounded by a cement wall built in the mid 1800's on the perimeter. Another cool thing about Arney’s Mount is that the Meeting House resembles a lot of the Eastern Pennsylvania structures. The stone actually came from the ground it’s on. I walked for a bit, and then headed back to my Jeep after touching the wall of the Meeting House. I hopped in the Jeep and then went down Birmingham road. The winding, warm road revealed an old school house built in the 1870’s. Keith Green, one of my colleagues, explained the layout of the mill that was once their and his family’s life there, generations ago. I stopped and looked at the nonexistent rail line that once ran through here. I watched the rabbits play and chase squirrels. I was humbled, and headed home for cheesteaks. Not the greatest vacation, but hey, at least I got some stuff accomplished. I guess I will have to do this again. I wait to return to work. I guess I should make my prediction for this Sunday, huh...? Eagles dominate and rebound over the Niners. 35-17

This Program Ran 4 Hours And 11 Minutes