Kevin Midgley: Home
Cost of the War in Iraq
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Dunno how you got here, but you must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, twice. Since you are here you might as well take your shoes off and relax. Coffee's still hot, whiskey is over the fridge and there's beer and wine in the hallway until the end of the night. A river of snakes rattles and shakes, shines and hisses beneath a veiled moon. The trees turn their leaves and their faces and the devil´s paddlewheel slips past the papermill, leaving snakeblood and venom in its wake. A gangway made of the bleached bones of Cumberland county's finest departed unfolds and the Reverend Strong Waters and the Devil With No Tail, abandon ship, surrounded by the writhing moonlit river vipers, to take their music to the unsuspecting. Don´t forget the Rev. Strong Waters, and yes, that´s right, his oblique proselytizing. In his formative years Kevin brought the Rev. fresh eggs and various beverages, in exchange for his wisdom and unshaken faith in music. Strong Waters was well aware that dope and macrame were not enough to cure the ills of the disillusioned activists of the 60´s. He believed that music, the secret music of electrons, of insects, and of humans was a path out of ignorance and darkness, to an area less ignorant and only partly cloudy. No revelation is made without obscuring its source. Dolores the Snapping Turtle and Zeke, the Reconstituted Farmer. A dozen white doves that refused to fly and an almost empty half gallon of Kentucky jet fuel. Tito Puente, Palm Sunday, a violet corduroy sports coat. Son House´s church on the hill, a beautiful cloud, the lottery ticket that lost by one number, a snowball in a freezer in August, a business card from a prostitute. Giant 50 foot tall bluesmen drink incredible shrinking beverage! Strong Waters and The Devil (with no tail!) appear on the bun of a veggie burger. Meter readers turn into stacks of quarters. Lies have become truth, liars kings. Above the streetlights: moths, bats, airplanes, the milky way. Time doesn´t stand still; it stands on the ledge of a building. The blues is dead! Long live the blues.
Midsummer - July 28, 2008
The Small Orchestra took stage for the second time in its fabled career in front of a small, but enthusiastic, and damp crowd at Yarmouth's Clam Festival. (If you don't know the Clam Festival you will have to look elsewhere for coverage.) The fact that there were farm animals in attendance only adds to the evening's charm. A grueling one hour set of music involving fierce drumming, flaming harmonicas, and the emotional breakdown of Mr. Midgley were left undocumented by the mainstream media. The Small Orchestra's band strategist vowed that the band would return after yet another management shake up. While some members of the band bowed out early thereby safely negotiating a road block, others opted not to go home at all. Thus, along with members of the Mutineers, who wish to remain unidentified, the remaining musicians practiced the beverage equivalent of what the lumber industry calls clear cutting. Many songs were sung, much sleep lost. The moon came out from behind the clouds even as things got cloudy. Amen
Spring and all - April 12, 2008
It would appear that spring is happening. The yard is full of grackles and redwings, and we actually heard peepers last night. The Rest-O-Bar is going through a metamorphosis. Rumor is it will be open within a week, featuring a few menu items from the past, and Granny's Burritos. I don't know what the music scene will be about there, so we're taking it on the road. Somewhat. Check it out though, bad pennies turn up. Keep an eye on the calendar to see where we're playing.
OK so the wall on the border stops at Hunt's property line - that's what a $350,000 donation to the Republican party gets you - at the same time the "Department of Homeland Security" is waving environmental standards to go through wildlife sensitive areas. Excellent job Chertoff. Medal of Freedom is in the mail.
Seriously - January 23, 2008
Seriously - a wall? between the US and Mexico? National IDs? Yes we are the richest nation in the world, so now we are going to be the first "gated" nation in history. Well, it's a race between us and Israel. No Mr. Hernandez you can't come in. Mr. Jones, remember the gates lock at 9. Don't be out after curfew. Maybe we should spend the ridiculous amount of money we are going to spend on that wall investing in some south of the border businesses that would pay decent wages so folks wouldn't have to come here to support their families. (Do you really think people want to leave their homes unless they are desperate?) OK national ID? The people who need IDs to go back and forth are the criminals who crisscross the globe brokering corporate rip offs, weapons sales, starting wars, and stealing other countries' natural resources. Oh shit! those are the guys who want us to have IDs. Terrorists who know how to fly commercial airliners can probably handle the ID thing. Jackasses are making the decisions for us. Greedy, power hungry jackasses.