Born to Run: The Greatest Rock Recording of All Time

Rolling Stone publishes lists of the top 100 'This' and 'That' every month or so. These lists do what they were intended to do: piss people off. Marketers know a pissed-off person will tell 7 people of their ire, while a satisfied person will tell 3 (or no one at all).

When the magazine did their list of the 100 greatest rock songs of all time, it is little wonder they picked Bob Dylan's Like a Rolling Stone as #1; after all, they named their magazine after it.
While I agree L.A.R.S. is one of the greatest songs of all time, it is closer to a jam session than a masterpiece.

Born to Run just came on the radio this morning and it brought tears to my eyes for perhaps the 139th time. I've been listening to this song for about than 35 years - surely I should be immune to it by now.

But I'm not, and here's why: The song embodies everything

youth
rebellion
dreams
hope and
triumph

is about.

BTW, these things are exactly what Rock and Roll is about.

From the explosive first chord to the last, the music makes it clear; there will be no compromise, this is do or die trying. If there were no words to the song, the music would make you believe you were at the start of a race that IS your life.

Then you've got Springsteen's vocal: OMG! This kid is singing like his life depends on it. There is a desperation, not just to survive, but to come out on top. He is passionately singing HIS story and (many of) our stories at once.

The making of this tune and the album were well documented and is a must for any fan. Born To Run was the first song for the album and it alone took 6 months of extraordinarily long days and nights to finish. Then the trick was to make the rest of the album to that standard. ha!
Amazingly enough, they did. That was one hell of a learning curve.

Some connected with the project say Bruce Springsteen went temporarily insane while doing this work. That would put him in the company of other artists, some who, unfortunately did not find their way back. Thank Everything, The Boss did.

Born To Run

In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway American dream

At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines

Sprung from cages out on highway 9,Chrome wheeled,

fuel injected and steppin' out over the line

Baby this town rips the bones from your back It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap

We gotta get out while we're young

'Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run

Wendy let me in I wanna be your friend

I want to guard your dreams and visions

Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims

and strap your hands across my engines

Together we could break this trap

We'll run till we drop, baby we'll never go back

Will you walk with me out on the wire

'Cause baby I'm just a scared and lonely rider

But I gotta find out how it feels

I want to know if love is wild girl

I want to know if love is real

Beyond the Palace hemi-powered drones scream down the boulevard

The girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors

And the boys try to look so hard

The amusement park rises bold and stark

Kids are huddled on the beach in a mist

I wanna die with you Wendy on the streets tonight

In an everlasting kiss

The highway's jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive

Everybody's out on the run tonight

but there's no place left to hide

Together Wendy we'll live with the sadness

I'll love you with all the madness in my soul

Someday girl I don't know when

we're gonna get to that place

Where we really want to go

and we'll walk in the sun

But till then tramps like us

baby we were born to run

One of the better live versions of the song:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8rGFfO5fUvE

Giving the Finger

"How'd you lose the tip of your finger?"

Kids are always much more open and up front with that sort of question. It also gives you a clue at how we're being sized up by them when first met.

Well... I was 5 years old... (I'm reporting facts as I remember them).

"I was showing off and I grabbed a bicycle chain." Eweeeuuu!

That usually ends the inquiry, but like always, the Devil is in the details.

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My family was living in the second of the 11 places we lived as I was growing up. It was a habitat I was fond of: There was a school across the street (where I attended first grade), and down the block was one of Chicago's large city parks, La Follette Park.

There was a church with a steeple that chimed on the hour, and I liked that. The steeple was lit at night and when I got up I would look out the window and check on it. If the lights on it were out, that meant it was really late, and not just late. But, back to the finger...

I was allowed to go to the park and hang out, climb trees, etc. and I would take my 16 inch "starter" bike over there every time I could get permission to go. Starter bikes in those days, had a direct drive chain and sprocket. That means, you did not coast with them, if the back wheel was turning, so were the pedals.

This is really a classic tale, one with a good guy, bad guy, sweet girl, and bumbling old man. It may have been made into a Scooby Do episode. Guess which role I played?
It's better all around if I give you the program now:

Billy 1 - Me (the good guy)

Billy 2 - The kid next door (the bad guy)

Sweet Polly - The little girl we both were trying to impress

Old Man - A passing pedestrian (well meaning, but not all that helpful)

Now that we've got that out of the way, on with the story.

I'm up in my favorite tree, just hanging alone on this particular afternoon, when Billy 2 comes along with Sweet Polly. Seeing an opportunity to win points with the young girl, Billy 2 takes my little bicycle and turns it upside down so it's on it's seat and handlebars. His next move is to crank the pedals really fast and critique it's lack of real speed.

At THAT insult, I jump down from my tree and and with an "Oh yeah?" grab the chain (with the idea that nothing impresses a girl like super strength) and immediately stop the spinning pedals by inserting my finger into the sprocket.

OK, I wasn't that stupid. I HAD impulsively grabbed the chain with both hands. It took only a millionth of a second to realize that was a bad idea. This is why I only lost the one finger: I had pulled my hands out so fast, pointer finger, which should have been first on the guillotine, was out of the way, and the tip of middle finger got the shaft. er, sprocket.

They were both impressed alright, blood shooting out of my hand like a bad horror movie. Billy 2 shouted "eeewwuuu!!! let's get out of here!" and he and Sweet Polly ran away as fast as they could.
Blood shooting out of any part of your body is a crying and wailing occasion, no matter what age you are, let alone age 5. And let alone I was. I began to walk briskly, the half-block back to my house when...

enters
Old Man: What happen to your hand?

Billy 1: Waaaahhh !!!

Old Man: Where do you live sonny?
Billy 1: (points at house in the middle of the block)

Old Man: I'd better walk you there

Billy 1: (wailing continues)

20 minutes later...

Old Man is taking credit for "finding" me and getting me home with my mother.
Somebody is always trying to impress somebody.
They took me to St Annes hospital where I heard my father deny (for the first time) he was a Catholic. I thought about correcting him, but then figured he was working some angle.

Good things about Giving the Finger

Beside the obvious; giving the finger to people under the guise that you're just showing them your injury, there was also this:

Years later on reflection, I realized another good thing that came from the accident. One of them was over the next few months, my father spent time (about an hour) every night with me running hot water over it. He would also wrap a huge bandage around it until it looked like the finger mummy.*

This was quite possibly the peak of our relationship.

* the finger mummy would sometimes attack my toy plastic soldiers when I got tired of them attacking each other.

Superman's Job Interview

On becoming a young adult, Superman realizes there is no future in Smallville, so he heads to the big city to find a life. After getting a room at the YMCA, the next stop is a career counseling outfit. He attends a 2pm appointment with Counselor Edwina Cranston

Edwina: So Mr Kent, I see you have the basic educational background, what special skills do you have that might help us place you in a job?

Clark Kent: (a bit nervous) Well, I can bend steel with my bare hands, I don't do it much...

Edwina: That might be handy in a steel mill, I'll make a note of it. Anything else?

Clark Kent: I can leap tall buildings in a single bound if I have to.

Edwina: You were a frat boy weren't you? Let's not mention that again. We have lots of openings for public school teachers, how does that sound?

Clark: hmmm, did I mention I'm more powerful than a locomotive?

Edwina: That's a good trait for a P.E. Instructor! Let me make a few calls and I'll get back to you tomorrow.

C.K. I'm also bullet-proof...

Edwina: An inner-city high school, perfect! 'Call you tomorrow...

Double Lake

March 31, 2009


Hanging out at one of our favorite places, Double Lake in East Texas. We've been coming here as a family since day one as I recall. More than 30 years of camping at this location has loads of memories of times with our kids when they were little, cousins, friends, and the many times it was just Rita and me.

Back in the early 80's, we were living in a house off 59 north (the East-Tex Freeway). 'Just getting the piano business started, our office was in the bedroom of the small house we rented. The only way to get a break was to leave the house. Double Lake was a one hour drive, and we packed the tent and came up here lots in those days. The tent camping was $5 a night, and everybody loved coming here.

This is the closest I'll ever get to Walden Pond. I hope to get to visit W.P. so I can find out if
the two are as alike as I think they are. To hear Henry David go on, you might think it is a paradise, but I'm told it's nice, but nothing earth-shaking.

That description could fit Double Lake, a golden colored pond more or less, surrounded by pines, oaks, and small wildlife. There's a small beach, and the swimming is good in the summer, the water runs warm with cold spots in the deep end. Bike trails were added some years ago and running them is a favorite pastime of mine. That, along with hiking. Maybe not earth-shaking, but the best nature get-away anywhere near Houston.

Last Summer we went out on the Lone Star Trail and got lost on the way back. The trail we were returning on just quit. Thinking we would pick it up 50 feet over, we forced our way through the thick brush without finding it. This area is thick brush much of it dead, but still with thorny brambles. We fought (by fought, I mean every step was earned) through it for a couple of hours before finding another trail. This one also came to an end. The Thicket is very weird where we were... there is no sign of life, no birds, frogs, very erie.

At that point I called the park on my cell phone. The nice fellow tried to help us find our way, but he was not sure where we were either. When trails change direction, it's easy to lose track of where you actually are. Since our bodies were not discovered and you're reading this, you know we made it back. An adventure, but not one I want to do again soon.

At this moment I have a very nervous dog pacing the campsite as we all listen to a coyotes or a pack of wild dogs howling in the distance. Brandi is not wanting to meet whatever is making that crazy noise. Well, I don't want to meet them either, but it sounds far off, so I think we're OK. . .

One morning when we were tent camping, we were listening to the birds and other morning sounds in the tent. We heard something not quite familiar... it sounded like weird talking. On leaving the tent we discovered a parrot hanging out in our camp. We made every attempt to rescue it, but it always flew just out of reach. I'm guessing that parrot lived a shorter life, out in the National Forest, But if I were him, I would think it was definitely worth it.

Smashup... on the Highway

The special cell phone ring I have for Rita sounds a bit like a 60's sit-com theme song. Why? beats me, it's just what I picked so I know when she's calling.

It's playing now, about 10 seconds after the van and trailer have been smashed to a halt into the concrete barrier on hwy 249. I knew I was ok, despite bumping my head on the roof and the mess 5 cars and an 18 wheeler make when there is major smash-up.

I opened the phone and explained the situation. "Should I come over?" "Yes" I replied, "I haven't gotten out of the van yet, but we may be able to tow the trailer away." The highway was shutdown about an hour, so it took a while for her to make it through. The vehicals involved were totaled (except the big truck) - the people involved were ok, except the woman driving the Mini van (the bowling ball to our bowling pins). She was taken away in an ambulance. 'Don't know who she was or what caused her to completely lose control, but I'm hoping she's alright.
I admit I had the urge to gripe, but suppressed it. Any wreck you walk away from is a good wreck, no?

But here's the real deal:

You never know what life has in store for you, do you? Like the man sez: "Tomorrow is not promised to anyone, so you better make something you do today a good memory for someone.

Oh Bury Me Now On the Lone Prairie...

The natural process of death has not been something visited on me or my family very often. Not sure why, but some folks I know seen to attend a funeral every couple of months.

I HAVE dealt with the passing of my mother last year, and had an active role in that funeral service, and last week attended the visitation for a friend that suddenly died. The two funeral home experiences have convinced me of this: I don’t want one.

‘Don’t mean I want everyone to just forget me, what I don’t want is an open casket funeral. Both the people I just mentioned were in their final years, and disease had had it’s way with their physical form. The individual in the box was not even a close approximation of the person I will always remember.

Just to show I’m not being self-effacing or introvert or whatever, I’m all for a token for friends and family to remember me; build me a statue about 120% life size (I’ve always wanted to be over 6 feet tall) in some kind of heroic pose – maybe with an electric guitar in my hand. The plaque might say “Five chords and a dream”. That will make strangers wonder, ‘might make everybody wonder.

Buggy Whip Makers

Back in the 60's, A grade school friend's father was an adding machine repairman.

Unless your my age or older you have no idea what I'm talking about. The mechanical adding machine was the precursor to the calculator. An interesting, but clumsy device that added and subtracted numbers. This is what was used by number crunchers for decades before the digital calculator showed up and blew them all away. What would cause that?

The adding machine weighed a ton
The adding machine needed maintenance
The adding machine was expensive

So, almost overnight, the adding machine went away.

I feel a lot like that friend's father. His name was Vern (by the way) the same as Elvis's daddy. My father sold Vern a Cadillac that cracked a block when winter hit. I guess he didn't check the antifreeze. I don't know what happened to Vern, my mind has made up a story that he died of seroses of the liver. Enough about Vern, back to me...The piano has been largely usurped by the digital keyboard. A device that is lighter, cheaper, and needs virtually no maintenance.

I have been closely watching this transformation for a good many years. 'First becoming alarmed over 20 years ago. The technology was transforming rapidly, I figured I would be out of a livelihood within a few years. I checked with friends in concert production. One, a well-regarded owner of a large sound/light company told me MIDI technicians were in demand. Most musicians didn't understand the full power of Musical Instrument Digital Interface.

That same man, a little later called me for a Little Richard show where they needed a piano equipped with MIDI. I was able to supply that. My life in concert piano supply began and I have not looked back since.

The Other Side

When I was a young adult, (c 1970) I was on the other side of this paradigm: A small Chicago commercial typesetting firm I worked for was using a computer to set advertising type while everyone else was using equipment that had been standard for about 100 years. We called them buggy whip makers. Railroads no doubt scoffed at the early airline industry; "wait 'til a few of them fall out of the sky". A strong Union governed the industry, and they were ready to fight change tooth and nail to keep the status quo.

1992, Lesson learned: Neither one is around, both replace by users doing it themselves on their own computer.

I made a joke with my doctor, just today when he fantasized about taking guitar lessons that he might become a hippie folk singer. "You need a backup plan" I offered.
"I think I'll keep my day job" he replied.