DIG THIS WITH BILL MESNIK AND RICH BUCKLAND- THE SPLENDID BOHEMIANS
My Fellow Americans, Life is actually just a microscopic, deluded moment in time, so let's cut to the freakin' chase. One look at our impending election debacle can solidify my case. It has been my contention since birth, that the answer to every difficulty we encounter on this sacred yet demented Stone, can be revealed with ultimate clarity through the ultra neurotic engagements of Music, Art, Literature, Film, Poetry and a good Pastrami sandwich. Why would any sane human spend so must time on a film set (Do you know how long you gotta wait until your 8 second deliverance of an edited beyond repair line gets a chance to become a professional embarrassment etched in time forever? ) or expend so much energy in a recording studio, piecing together another ode to a man or woman who could not care less how much love existed within your digestive tract? It's all about hymns and prayers and a quest for mercy and forgiveness and silence and faith. We were blessed with Charles Bukowski, Gene Chandler, Lenny Bruce, Mitch Ryder and a legion of creative explorers whose influences provided the air we breathe. So Let's Dance! This site shall explore the reaper, find a way to disarm the stench of injustice, discover some true loves and talk it all over before it's all over. So what's the worst that our desires could produce? Failure? So sue me. I'm going to require your assistance in making as much trouble for the grown-ups as possible. Let the record show that my childish heart yearns to disrupt the madness. Join me Ladies and Germs!
DIG THIS WITH BILL MESNIK AND RICH BUCKLAND- THE SPLENDID BOHEMIANS
BILL MESNIK OF THE SPLENDID BOHEMIANS PRESENTS: THE SUNNY SIDE OF MY STREET - SONGS TO MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD - EPISODE #72 - QUINCY JONES - SANFORD AND SON THEME “THE STREETBREAKER” (A&M, 1973)
Redd Foxx was one funny motherfucker. And, hell on wheels. Apparently, he was the scourge of taxi drivers in Las Vegas, where he lived, worked, and is buried - because he would either throw up in the backseat of their cabs, or refuse to pay his fare, or both. As the “King of the Party Records”, Redd made 50 dirty albums (I have a few on 8 track) - before hitting national gold on Sanford and Son, that show about a junkman and his boy that ran for six seasons, starting in 1972. I just found out that Foxx’s birth name actually WAS Sanford - a factoid that makes me smile. If fact everything about him made me smile. I loved it each time he’d clutch his chest feigning a heart attack, and groaning “Elizabeth, I’m comin’ to join you, honey!” And, now, hearing Quincy Jone’s theme song again, I’m sporting a broad grin again in remembrance.
Q was a master of innumerable musical genres, coming up as he did as Dinah Washington’s arranger, Sinatra’s band leader, Film scorer par excellence, and Michael Jackson’s record producer, etc, etc. Here he’s channelling Herbie Hancock’s “Watermelon Man” - and the funky clavinet makes me want to bob my head along with the syncopation.
Although the character of Fred Sanford was supposed to be in his sixties, Redd was only in his 40s when he made Sanford and Son, and he was only 68 when he died in 1991, having exhausted himself through a jam-packed roller-coaster existence. Rumor has it he died broke because the IRS has seized his assets two years earlier, so Eddie Murphy footed the bill to pay for his funeral. As Arthur Miller once wrote: “Attention must be paid!”
