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Primer Mi Carucha


So I was pulling together some music for one of my long drives and my eyes fell upon “Frank Zappa Uncle Meat”. Recalled it fondly not having listened to it in years, so I slid it off the CD rack (I know, “Dude, ever hear of an I-Pod?”) and threw it in the car. This is standardly how I wind up kickstarting my re-swoons with artists I

love and precisely what’s currently going on with me and Frank. What I adore about these cycles is the way after extended life interventions, you come back to these former crushes available for a different and, in some ways, deeper re-blasting. Not quite what my daughter Bari talked about when she wrote in a poem I love, “If I could…. I would erase all memory of The End, And all the chords of Visions of Johanna, And play each over for the first time”, but certainly the next best thing.

It’s late at night, darkness all around and after a delicious serving of Wayne Shorter music, I reach into my CD case and slide The Mothers’ sixth studio album out and in. Soon I’m perplexing over whether the guitar in “Nine Types Of Industrial Pollution” is an unamped Tele or a $20 acoustic. I also notice I’m getting giddy. Then the pure lunacy of “Dog Breath in the Year of the Plague” explodes through the speakers and it’s off to the races. Memories of how my kids would get happy in the back seat when it came on, the glorious mystery of the random song lyrics, even the ambiguity of the very words being sung (as a lark, check out how deep in peeps get in this shit – “What on earth does Ray sing before ‘….carucha Chevy ’39’ for the opening casino online of this song?”)….more to come

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