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!
With Gratitude For Gena Rowlands, Nancy Sinatra, Jerry Quarry, Leo Gorcey, Arthur Alexander and Joey Heatherton, Your Splendid Bohemian, Rich Buckland.
DIG THIS WITH BILL MESNIK AND RICH BUCKLAND- THE SPLENDID BOHEMIANS
BILL MESNIK'S SUNNY SIDE OF MY STREET PRESENTS: I’M ALWAYS DRUNK IN SAN FRANCISCO BY CARMEN MCRAE (ATLANTIC, 1968) - EPISODE #83
I’M ALWAYS DRUNK IN SAN FRANCISCO by Carmen McRae (Atlantic, 1968)
Here’s my San Francisco story: In the 1980s, Chemayne and I went there on our honeymoon, spending a week before flying to Hawaii. We stayed at The Red Victorian, a reconverted townhouse in the Haight run by a dedicated, middle aged hippie, Sammy Sun-Child. It was adjacent to the Red Vic movie house, where you lounged on comfortable couches and ate homemade delicacies. The movie that week was Meryl Streep’s Dingo ate my baby film “Cry in the Dark”. We made the pilgrimage, and had martinis at John’s Grill, the legendary steakhouse where Dashiell Hammett wrote The Maltese Falcon. It was a week lovingly emblazoned on my memory forever.
This song evokes these ruminations. The piano playing chanteuse, Carmen McRae weaves a sophisticated memoir of ironic delight, and I am in the throes of her conjurations. I discovered the tune on an obscure Atlantic box set entitled The Ertegun’s New York: New York Cabaret Music, meant to memorialize that special, hoity-toity Manhattan crowd, and it’s mythic entertainers. This version was released on the label’s 1968 album “Portrait of Carmen”, arranged and conducted by Benny Carter, in a much more fleshed out version.
Carmen, who started off aspiring to be like her mentor, Billie Holiday, perfected her own brand of behind the beat phrasing and ironic interpretation, finding her unique voice and style as a story teller of the first rank, honed by way of a disciplined acting training, which led to her success in the worlds of Cabaret, television, and film.
