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: MARSHMALLOW SKIES BY RICK NELSON (DECCA, 1967). EPISODE #91
This recording, composed and performed by the criminally underestimated Rick Nelson and his right-hand man James Burton, is a tone poem of psychedelic disorientation. It lopes along, taking its sweet time, floating in mid-air, then seeps out through the singer’s enthralled brain in a sensual vortex. It reminds me of my virgin night of acid enlightenment, when I crawled across my cousin’s floor, following the swirling carpet patterns, whispering: “Oh, Wow,” over and over again.
The tune features the sitar, a trope of the time, sensitively voiced by a musician mysteriously listed as “unknown,” and they stand out as the unsung hero of the whole enterprise. Appearing as it did in 1967, Marshmallow Skies signifies that time in Rick’s career between his teen idol period and when he emerged, fully realized, as a progenitor of country rock. He’s in experimental mode here, searching for a new direction. And, with characteristic aplomb, he makes his case convincingly.
An interesting side note: “Marshmallow Sky” is also a flavor of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream - and, a sweet smelling iris which resembles floating clouds. Appropriate, I think.
