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Monthly Archives: July 2010

My recording computer is once again on the fritz, this time without power. How is it that my 30 year old audio equipment works flawlessly for hours each day without a hiccup but my 1.5 year old computer keeps taking wet poops all over my nice rug? It’s going to be a little bit before I can get a new charger so I may throw up a few posts of albums that aren’t available on vinyl. Stay tuned!

Danny Elfman is the Evil King of the Gingers. This title affords him all sorts of red magic, charms and glitter powers.  Since 1984 he’s been using his quartet of fetish dolls to perform terrible tasks to make life terribly good for him.

The first black kitty cat with the squiggly zipper stomach on the left  landed him the gig of as soundtrack composer for every Tim Burton film ever made. It did this, of course, by breaking into Burton’s duplex in the middle of a full-mooned night.  Once inside, little kitty found Burton and made fun of his silk pajamas well past the break of dawn. Burton’s spirit was quickly broken–he handed over full soundtrack rights for the next century to Elfman by mid-afternoon.

The other three, especially Skeleton Jack over there, wrastled Elfman composer duties for the theme song to The Simpsons. You see, 20 years ago Matt Groening was really into training Shetland Ponies for the show circuit. It was basically the only thing he lived for. He enjoyed doodling every now and then but it was basically ponies for life. That is, until one night, when the Ginger Trio arrived.

Well, you know the rest…they poisoned his pony, Mr. Trickets, and promised the antidote in return for a contract to a show he’d have to create. And not just a show, a cartoon with yellow people. Lots of them. Too many to keep track of unless you watched the show every week for 20 years. And somehow Groening fulfilled his end of the bargain and got the antidote. But the fetish dolls killed the pony anyway the next evening by Burger King overdose.

All right, fuck this.

All I can think about while writing is the little field mouse that died in my apartment this week. He didn’t even get the dignity of dying in a trap laced with peanut butter or anything. No, somehow he squeezed his tiny body into my box fan and lost his life to a great spinning electric monster he couldn’t possibly understand.

He escaped a Kentucky’s midsummer monsoon by finding a dry 19th century home. He even made it up to the second floor to assure he was totally out of harm’s way. Once he wiggled his way through what I assume was a heating duct he was clever enough to outsmart two dark cats. Keep in mind that these cats are accomplished mouse hunters; both trained in the jungles of Clifton.

And all I can think about is that dead, chopped up mouse and Danny Elfman’s lyrics from the song on this 12″: “Life’s been so good to me, has it been good to you? Has it been everything that you’d expected it to be? Was it as good for you, as it was good for me? And was it everything that it was all set up to be?”

Well, that mouse probably heard this album pumping through my abode right before he died.  Sure, he might not  have understood English but I know he felt the vibes…I just know it. And I can safely say that his life was not as good for him as it was for you, Mr. Elfman. You are such an asshole.

Download Gratitude

>>>BONUS!!!  You can also find the full LP from whence this track came (Danny Elfman – So-Lo) for download on this site here. It’s so choice.


A Gratitude (Extended Dance Version) 6:44
B1 Gratitude (Tornado Version) 7:05
B2 Gratitude (Short Version) 4:42

How many times have heard someone say,”Man, I would give anything to have been at so and so’s show show show.” Whether it’s some affluent hippy acquaintance willing to trade her Saab convertible for a few hours of muddy sex at Woodstock, your stoner buddy who would give his left nut to see Led Zeppelin in ’73 at Madison Square Gardens, or that one redheaded raver who’d gladly administer a beej to see Danny Tenaglia in Ibiza during the ecstasy revolution. Everyone has that one show they’d kill to have seen.

Well, this is one of those shows. Mr. Cash, The Man In Black, rable-rousing for a crowd of petty thieves, con men and murderers. What would it have been worth to peep this show? Would it have been worth a day behind bars in Folsom Prison? A month? A year? A spot on death row only to be pardoned by the Governor at the very last second? Well, take a read of Johnny Boy’s words here and have a good old think over it.

Folsom Prison Blues

The culture of a thousand years is shattered with the clanging of the cell door behind you.  Life outside, behind you immediately becomes unreal.  You begin not care that it exists.  All you have with you in the cell is your bare animal instincts.

I speak partly from experience.  I have been behind bars a few times.  Sometimes of my own volition sometimes involuntarily.  Each time, I felt the same feeling of kinship with my fellow prisoners

Behind the bars, locked out from “society.”  You’re being re-habilitated, corrected, re-briefed, re-educated on life itself, without you having the opportunity of really reliving it.  You’re the object of a widely planned program combining isolation, punishment taming, briefing, etc., designed to make you sorry for your mistakes, to re-enlighten you on what you should and shouldn’t do outside, so that when you’re released, if you ever are, you can come out clean, to a world that’s supposed to welcome you and forgive you.

Can it work???   “Hell NO.”  you say.  How could this torment possibly do anybody any good…..But them! Why else are you locked in?

You sit on your cold, steel mattressless bunk and watch a cock roach crawl out from under the filthy commode, and you don’t kill it.  You envy the roach as you watch it crawl out under the cell door.

Down the cell block you hear a steel door open, then close. Like every other man that hears it, your first unconscious thought reaction is that it’s someone coming to let you out, but you know it isn’t.

You count the steel bars on the door so many times that you hate yourself for it.  Your big accomplishment for the day is a mathematical deduction.  You are positive of this, and only this:  There are nine vertical, and sixteen horizontal bars on your door.

Down the hall another door opens and closes, then a guard walks by without looking at you, and on out another door.

“The son of a ….”

You’d like to say that you are waiting for something, but nothing ever happens.  There is nothing to look forward to.

You make friends in the prison.  You become one in a “clique,” whose purpose is nothing.  Nobody is richer or poorer than the other.  The only way wealth is measured is by the amount of tobacco a man has, or “Duffy’s Hay” as tobacco is called.

All of you have had the same things snuffed out of your lives.  Every thing it seems that makes a man a man.  Women, money, a family, a job, the open road, the city, the country, ambition, power, success, failure – a million things.

Outside your cellblock is a wall.  Outside that wall is another wa.  It’s twenty feet high, and it’s granite blocks go down another eight feet in the ground.  You know you’re here to stay, and for some reason you’d like to stay a live.- and not rot.

So, for the fourth time I have done so in California, I brought my sh to Folsom.  Prisoners are the greatest audience that an entertainer can perform for.  We bring them a ray of sunshine in their dungeon and they’re not ashamed to respond, and show their appreciation.- And after six years of talking and finally found the man who would listen at Columbia Records.  Bob Johnston believed me when i told him that a prison would be the place to record an album live.

Here’s the proof.  Listen closely to this album and you hear in the background the clanging of the doors, the shrill of the whistle, the shout of the men…even laughter from men who had forgotten how to laugh.

But mostly you’ll feel the electricity, and hear the single pulsation of two thousand heart beats in men who have their hearts torn out, as well as their minds, their nervous systems, and their souls.

Hear the sounds of the men, the convicts all brothers of mine with the Folsom Prison Blues.

– Johnny Cash

>>>Click here to download Mr. Cash at Folsom Prison in 320 kbps MP3


A1 Folsom Prison Blues
A2 Dark As The Dungeon
Written-By – M. Travis*
A3 I Still Miss Someone
Written By – -J. Cash – R. Cash, Jr.-
Written-By – R. Cash, Jr.*
A4 Cocaine Blues
Written-By – T. J. Arnall*
A5 25 Minutes To Go
Written-By – S. Silverstein*
A6 Orange Blossom Special
Written-By – E. T. Rouse*
A7 The Long Black Veil
Written By – -M. Wilkin D. Danny-
Written-By – D. Danny* , M. Wilkin*
B1 Send A Picture Of Mother
B2 The Wall
Written-By – H. Howard*
B3 Dirty Old Egg-Sucking Dog
Written-By – J. H. Clement*
B4 Flushed From The Bathroom Of Your Heart
Written-By – J. Clement*
B5 Jackson
Vocals [With] – June Carter
Written By – -G. Rodgers – B. Wheeler-
Written-By – B. Wheeler* , G. Rodgers*
B6 Give My Love To Rose
Vocals [With] – June Carter
B7 I Got Stripes
Written By – -C. Williams – J. Cash-
Written-By – C. Williams*
B8 Green, Green Grass Of Home
Written-By – C. Putnam*
B9 Greystone Chapel
Written-By – G. Shirley*