tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69315235085654578442024-03-05T15:57:28.314-08:00Michelle JosefMichelle Josef Carpentryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12504425468988466481noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6931523508565457844.post-31967004449878598352020-04-02T19:33:00.000-07:002013-03-24T16:10:47.285-07:00Welcome<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KjPEKGbM7KBfkJOxEi0Cwdn2t1bnrsVMpxA0FNkx_y0XGFmFabkjsJJjKJowRdPiuV87402ybO2dACN4EDHEPZACA1LaR9xVeYt7KYLYWUkrd0nD-ooBowV2T3udG5ra6uMZwxZjqnM/s1600/IMG_0381.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KjPEKGbM7KBfkJOxEi0Cwdn2t1bnrsVMpxA0FNkx_y0XGFmFabkjsJJjKJowRdPiuV87402ybO2dACN4EDHEPZACA1LaR9xVeYt7KYLYWUkrd0nD-ooBowV2T3udG5ra6uMZwxZjqnM/s200/IMG_0381.jpg" width="150" /></a>Welcome. Here you will find most things about Michelle Josef's creative life: poems, photos, musings, gigs, maybe some videos and recipes. Please look around. Take your shoes off. Make yourself at home<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy6a8m_Q2fN3tdhN76nyvqwtWDeF9hPXKrWAw9ZOmaR9UVSO0iA9bS9fLoQ9QdMczbfbTFFkp1IuaLbqEIk5gdJ5ltIaTmzCq8a3lyyAn4JLQHbfFXlliyh07QotBuwHi9SOaDJh42XV0/s1600/IMG_0456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy6a8m_Q2fN3tdhN76nyvqwtWDeF9hPXKrWAw9ZOmaR9UVSO0iA9bS9fLoQ9QdMczbfbTFFkp1IuaLbqEIk5gdJ5ltIaTmzCq8a3lyyAn4JLQHbfFXlliyh07QotBuwHi9SOaDJh42XV0/s200/IMG_0456.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
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via facebook:</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="padding-bottom: 5px; width: 458px;"><tbody>
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/sean.bryson" style="color: #3b5998; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Sean Brx</a>xxx</td><td style="color: #999999; font-size: 11px; padding-right: 5px; text-align: right;">12 January 00:30</td></tr>
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I'm sitting here listening to you on those Wilcox tunes.....goddamn, that's great drumming.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfjt8md4-LxAvPkRHR7BsMc0rTryQdms90_WUk6Ffze1VMp0IDSnGySjdkkThjdX8vYB0_xy1cjF_C6eBdS9bYLQn8D9n91LRj9CeyAORJLQa-cavgKUr3srnzOWHxO2YcbqctM31EGmw/s1600/299666_10150876616870332_792000331_21149461_1799827337_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfjt8md4-LxAvPkRHR7BsMc0rTryQdms90_WUk6Ffze1VMp0IDSnGySjdkkThjdX8vYB0_xy1cjF_C6eBdS9bYLQn8D9n91LRj9CeyAORJLQa-cavgKUr3srnzOWHxO2YcbqctM31EGmw/s200/299666_10150876616870332_792000331_21149461_1799827337_n.jpg" width="131" /></a><br />
the Reverend Max Woolaver said"your groove is so solid you can walk on it"<br />
<br />
Bernard Purdie said " you're a really good drummer"<br />
<br />
Bill Monroe said "you're a fine drummer"<br />
<br />
a fan in Duluth said "you play drums better than Dizzy Gillespie</div>
Michelle Josef Carpentryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12504425468988466481noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6931523508565457844.post-59807394319928417002013-03-26T07:48:00.000-07:002013-03-26T07:49:53.784-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Helvetica;"></span><br />
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
Haida Gwaii</div>
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<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the ocean</div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the tide</div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the beauty of desolation</div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the sand</div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the pebbles</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi71poOOPLtspIpUi8HRnmGpEUGbKV0ZhptnJQrwjok8QyCqJqiFeT24pQmQ3smNzVY-n5MlJoW444LX4BCFKNW5kq7doEMvaeLMPYEna48HcWWMsjvFHiMaeL5gfbWA77PKf76kJGZcMc/s1600/IMG_0043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi71poOOPLtspIpUi8HRnmGpEUGbKV0ZhptnJQrwjok8QyCqJqiFeT24pQmQ3smNzVY-n5MlJoW444LX4BCFKNW5kq7doEMvaeLMPYEna48HcWWMsjvFHiMaeL5gfbWA77PKf76kJGZcMc/s400/IMG_0043.JPG" width="400" /></a>I am the wind holding up the waves </div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the sunset</div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the cold</div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the loneliness of the unwanted debris</div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the creator</div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the destroyer</div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the hunger of the heart</div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the Spanish moss</div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the driftwood</div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the bleached bones of what once was</div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the grey</div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the blue</div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the breath that's taken away</div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the rhythm</div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the cycle </div>
<div style="font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
I am the pounding of the surf</div>
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Michelle Josef Carpentryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12504425468988466481noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6931523508565457844.post-53683112617895041552013-03-16T20:19:00.000-07:002013-03-16T20:37:39.849-07:00WhaT GOeS uP<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjvQ5FeLpx_ZTmReZgPqZhY5Y6TokIusV7dv01MnvUq4AM9h8FiYUOTtFVe1iQHMNScGdqz59gYoqa1S0QZlhGDSF9Y5GWmXOlW33MTBTLE9vjhuP49-7VRP5oYffmHZt2dwyy3pTdVLg/s1600/IMG_0496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjvQ5FeLpx_ZTmReZgPqZhY5Y6TokIusV7dv01MnvUq4AM9h8FiYUOTtFVe1iQHMNScGdqz59gYoqa1S0QZlhGDSF9Y5GWmXOlW33MTBTLE9vjhuP49-7VRP5oYffmHZt2dwyy3pTdVLg/s400/IMG_0496.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
what's hip today<br />
will become passé<br />
today it's flare<br />
tomorrow thin<br />
one day sacred<br />
next day sin<br />
In, out, cool, hot<br />
what it is and<br />
what it's not<br />
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<br />Michelle Josef Carpentryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12504425468988466481noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6931523508565457844.post-15325568540965627202013-03-15T16:49:00.000-07:002013-03-16T20:40:20.194-07:00Firecracker Day<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD3yT9uIanK-9ZKG2HMFqTFSHH5Fq1UBWzj4y5xE8tJ7S9wqeaZse1A2grPJ3_EYesAR1zm3e59ejkZLETF4UvWwTpiVhpbhA0YXEfFiEa64EE64AknuDeZaov5yGxeAr815k9LbLI0ZY/s1600/IMG_0044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD3yT9uIanK-9ZKG2HMFqTFSHH5Fq1UBWzj4y5xE8tJ7S9wqeaZse1A2grPJ3_EYesAR1zm3e59ejkZLETF4UvWwTpiVhpbhA0YXEfFiEa64EE64AknuDeZaov5yGxeAr815k9LbLI0ZY/s320/IMG_0044.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">Firecracker Day</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">Denial</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">Anger </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">Bargaining</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">Depression</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">Acceptance<br />In the end there's only<br />Silence<br />I say yes to all</span>Michelle Josef Carpentryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12504425468988466481noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6931523508565457844.post-34438695360049828842013-03-12T20:23:00.000-07:002013-03-16T20:42:47.308-07:00Being<br />
<br />
<br />
The Blues are not a dark enough color<br />
I prefer black<br />
As I slip on darkness<br />
The colour suits me.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja9W-O59sgEjZn-iZSFZM5lZDY89CujtR27z3up0CDlLTRMxNGWeCbVfaWQTR-mam37bSrEtxaHKB_YlymINDP042hYY53rPsH4zs_LuXyoKVWQxQzfHu1mUDRo7CW16BJ4-QhHCT-ZEg/s1600/IMG_0107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja9W-O59sgEjZn-iZSFZM5lZDY89CujtR27z3up0CDlLTRMxNGWeCbVfaWQTR-mam37bSrEtxaHKB_YlymINDP042hYY53rPsH4zs_LuXyoKVWQxQzfHu1mUDRo7CW16BJ4-QhHCT-ZEg/s320/IMG_0107.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
The jokes on me<br />
I never thought I'd get old<br />
the glass is half empty<br />
it's not half full<br />
Wasted time I'll never get back<br />
<br />
<br />
Light a candle<br />
To stained glass saints<br />
Forgive me Father<br />
For I have sinned<br />
Vespers whispered<br />
Regrets, remorse<br />
I can't Hail Mary! my way<br />
Out of this one.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Michelle Josef Carpentryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12504425468988466481noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6931523508565457844.post-25039328159674262112013-01-17T19:47:00.001-08:002013-01-17T20:29:23.472-08:00A story about Gordon Lightfoota story about Gordon Lightfoot
<br />
<br />
Back when I played with the Good Brothers, Gord Lightfoot was part of the scene and was kind of a mentor to the band. Brian Good had written as song called "Ballad of the Eletha B". It was a song about a fishing boat that went down in Lake Erie with a father and his sons aboard. They had been out in a heavy fog when the temp crashed and the fog froze onto the boat sinking it. It was a beautiful, haunting song and Brian was quite proud of it.
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<br />
After the first Good Bros album was recorded we were all at a listening party at Thunder Sound, a long gone Toronto recording studio. I was standing beside Brian when the Eletha B started playing on the speakers. Brian asked Gord to listen to the song. After it finished, Gord turned to Brian and said "it's a great song but sinking ships don't work!" This was a couple of years before Gord wrote the Edmund Fitzgerald-one of his biggest hits. Ironic.Michelle Josef Carpentryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12504425468988466481noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6931523508565457844.post-23480474228155059522013-01-16T20:46:00.000-08:002013-03-16T20:47:51.051-07:00Yah-No<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7ZAitSiTkYghHtIyKhy_mG1hEiag-LNxg6Pkcdtiw_6H0swTWTG3Is1Ub2Wumt9Xn1DWAijbriwPd7m59PFYA5jeLhPasxZLsKNZvBpHalTz3qvI1N8KzpU4auUOPPrs7zJIqWX6xHE/s1600/xtra_mj.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7ZAitSiTkYghHtIyKhy_mG1hEiag-LNxg6Pkcdtiw_6H0swTWTG3Is1Ub2Wumt9Xn1DWAijbriwPd7m59PFYA5jeLhPasxZLsKNZvBpHalTz3qvI1N8KzpU4auUOPPrs7zJIqWX6xHE/s1600/xtra_mj.jpg" /></a>From the whispering of the stars<br />
to the grave bass of the heavy wall clocks<br />
I will not be punished for my anger<br />
I will be punished by my anger<br />
'cause this is the big league<br />
and when you fuck up<br />
you lose the right to play<br />
I'm not a psychopath<br />
just a high functioning sociopath<br />
so I do my research<br />
educate, incubate, innovate<br />
perception is reality<br />
don't you get it?Michelle Josef Carpentryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12504425468988466481noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6931523508565457844.post-86037770964320992182013-01-11T20:16:00.002-08:002013-03-16T20:20:30.543-07:00You Send Me<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYQUVkiU-kZWwVXYvTgnjHDLlEKNtAnu-aJxQxGciP6nIZnyH0NKWnEAZqCUEROXn1elieP7jEgshsGa-UTYiPrgXJ3sB4uS_ocj9-rNcuflvxLqXlQqJFgoCLcCNuAHnJIV3XldMdtM/s1600/IMG_0151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYQUVkiU-kZWwVXYvTgnjHDLlEKNtAnu-aJxQxGciP6nIZnyH0NKWnEAZqCUEROXn1elieP7jEgshsGa-UTYiPrgXJ3sB4uS_ocj9-rNcuflvxLqXlQqJFgoCLcCNuAHnJIV3XldMdtM/s400/IMG_0151.jpg" width="300" /></a><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;">Elvis' voice sends me</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Gives me the willies every time</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Thank you God</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">For letting me be so afflicted</span><br />
<span style="background-color: red;"><br /></span>
<br />
<br />Michelle Josef Carpentryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12504425468988466481noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6931523508565457844.post-77467655709956974762012-09-14T19:33:00.001-07:002012-09-14T19:33:20.538-07:00Hanging with the Biever<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcIxiEAjCGiHgSlURwmAYms-_m6UWQX3y5z9X8m48iQGOqth31W8NGGx1hBtqdLY0sw4gJfbdneRMvn8QQzIjNIxltD5-7dkueFGv3pKSUddEEP68K7-PRszkAfcpLUeCHRd0WJS2j0A/s1600/IMG_1034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcIxiEAjCGiHgSlURwmAYms-_m6UWQX3y5z9X8m48iQGOqth31W8NGGx1hBtqdLY0sw4gJfbdneRMvn8QQzIjNIxltD5-7dkueFGv3pKSUddEEP68K7-PRszkAfcpLUeCHRd0WJS2j0A/s200/IMG_1034.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
Me 'n the Biev were bored. Decided to go to MalWart and do some shoplifting. He pocketed some cheap Maybeline mascara. Thought that his lashes could use some thickening up. I laughed. As if anyone cared about his lashes. I said "wouldn't it be fun to have a go cart chase up and down the aisles of this place". He immediately gets on the Crackberry, calls up his "go to guy" and the next thing you know, we're chasing each other in hot rod go-carts up and down the lingerie aisles, knocking down the mannequins and overturning tables full of bras and panties. He gets a girdle stuck in his steering wheel, bumps into a low lying shelf, goes up on two wheels and looses control, crashing into a big display of plastic laundry hampers. I'm pissing myself laughing. By now, security has the place surrounded and they're calling out to us on bull-horns. I scramble over the hampers and the Biev is out cold. He's got a nasty gash across his forehead and it's gushing bright red blood. I look around and they're having a "white" sale in the towel department. I grab a handful of facecloths and begin wiping up the blood from his face. He slowly comes around but when he sees all the blood he passes out again. I slap him hard-once on each cheek. "Wake up man. They've got us surrounded and they're gonna find the mascara in your pocket!" He slowly gets up and I wrap another white towel around his head. Makes him look like ......................to be continuedMichelle Josef Carpentryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12504425468988466481noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6931523508565457844.post-36568073488901110402012-02-26T07:32:00.007-08:002013-03-16T20:29:46.997-07:00On with the show (the Tea Party)On a bus to Palookaville<br />
we passed three vile inns<br />
each more disgusting than the other<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSIicMCqWcU5Ma1YIXI_b1t5aNceqYl2RcTZSKEFeGA5URDbI0y0P73i_IChZYFfUum0VEyTIIP0vWM76OvM_Xcx49LEuPr51TiCibxEn8cNzRdHhlvaP33p5wm2hl3_RWrLsVcesNKQY/s1600/IMG_0493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSIicMCqWcU5Ma1YIXI_b1t5aNceqYl2RcTZSKEFeGA5URDbI0y0P73i_IChZYFfUum0VEyTIIP0vWM76OvM_Xcx49LEuPr51TiCibxEn8cNzRdHhlvaP33p5wm2hl3_RWrLsVcesNKQY/s320/IMG_0493.JPG" width="320" /></a>the circus was in town<br />
everyone was booked<br />
there was a fire breather, a Gothic belly dancer<br />
and a man with two heads<br />
dressed in his Sunday best<br />
with his hand over his heart.<br />
<br />
the crowd wrapped itself in the flag<br />
the little girls in pink ribbons<br />
believing it will keep them safe<br />
but they got more past than future<br />
and someone was going to pay.<br />
<br />
They brought out a golden cage<br />
in it a starving tiger<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I believe the tiger was innocent</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
guilty only of being himself</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
he could smell their fear</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
the crowd called out for MORE!!!!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
they wanted blood<br />
to ease their suffering<br />
and wait for Revelation to expire<br />
but there is no safe way out 'cause<br />
God is up to something big.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
Michelle Josef Carpentryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12504425468988466481noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6931523508565457844.post-22055093508016701302012-02-26T07:20:00.002-08:002013-03-16T20:43:54.976-07:00Now thenRetreat, regroup, return, revenge<br />
being the leader of a group of<br />
post apocalyptic outlaws is exhausting<br />
better to be judged by 12<br />
than carried by 6<br />
life is like licking honey from a thorn<br />
a smile like the blade of a knife<br />
but what do I know?<br />
I'm just some flibberty jibbet<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg10gbRskSI4Zzra0en8k2EJNrualFp__4Mj4mNpHO2gpWOvAKRgEJm1KiuJzcZk9iNwfhE-IPiffHllo7hvdBRRMbtTOXI3U2Ktvl2zPOH1ki_LL6GtylqVO59jMKN8li35a_hGhkAGjE/s1600/IMG_0429.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg10gbRskSI4Zzra0en8k2EJNrualFp__4Mj4mNpHO2gpWOvAKRgEJm1KiuJzcZk9iNwfhE-IPiffHllo7hvdBRRMbtTOXI3U2Ktvl2zPOH1ki_LL6GtylqVO59jMKN8li35a_hGhkAGjE/s320/IMG_0429.JPG" width="320" /></a>with cotton wool between the ears<br />
A pettifogging squabbler<br />
but I'm wise too.<br />
<br />
<br />Michelle Josef Carpentryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12504425468988466481noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6931523508565457844.post-39318358421920510252012-02-19T09:22:00.000-08:002012-02-19T09:46:37.875-08:00Shit Mel Brown said about EttaI played many times with bluesman Mel Brown. Originally from Mississippi, Mel wound up living in Kitchener, Ontario where he landed a house gig at a club called Pop The Gator. He took a liking to Canada and lived in Kitchener until his death from emphysema in March 2009. I loved playing with Mel. He liked the front edge of the beat and I'm instinctively a back edge player, so he demanded that I adjust. It was a challenge but he kept hiring me so I guess I was doing something right.<br />
<br />
Mel, as well as being an amazing musician, was an amazing guy. What a career! He played with Bobby Blue Bland, Etta James, Waylon Jennings and Bobby Darrin. He told me that he was one of the very few black musicians allowed into recording studios in Nashville during the 60's (primarily due to Bobby Darin's clout). I loved his sound. He played a Gibson 175. He also had a complete repertoire of jazz/blues/funk that he could perform on the Hammond organ. One night at the Gator, Mel asked me if I wanted to get high. He had a thin one paper joint and we went out onto the back steps and sparked it up. I only got one or two hits from it and we immediately went on stage. Part way through the first song, I felt myself being pulled up out of my body, rising above the drums, hovering near the ceiling. I could see ribbons of energy connecting me to my body down below as some part of me kept playing the drums. Then I was sucked back down into my flesh and bones. Mel turned around and grinned at me as if he knew exactly what I had just experienced. What did we smoke Mel? ( and where can I get some more?) <br />
<br />
Mel loved a little puff of pot now and then. He also smoked cigarettes which led to his premature death. Emphysema took a deathly hold of him, aged him ten years in a matter of months. Towards the end, Mel would take the stage seated, with an oxygen bottle at his side but as soon as he started playing that once tall, vibrant and lanky man now withered, old and gray came back to life and he would rock the joint. He told me that smoking cigarettes was the stupidest thing he ever did. God damn those cigarettes. One way or another, everybody quits eventually. <br />
<br />
He was Etta's band leader for many years. Some of the stories he told me took me to a time and place that was hard for me to grasp. Although I have a passion for blues and soul and have made a life study of playing it, I will never know what it was like to be a black musician in a segregated America during the 50's and 60's. I can only imagine. Mel had many stories of violence and racism. (Told me that the reason he stayed in Kitchener and made Canada his home was that no one ever referred to him as a "N...er"). On more than one occasion Mel found band members in the dressing room with needles sticking out of their arms, dead from heroin overdoses. One time it was the bass player. Mel had to play bass that night. It especially pissed him off since he said that he hated playing bass. Mel told me about some of Etta's struggles with heroin. I won't repeat them. I prefer to keep Etta's dignity intact and remember her as the greatest singer I have ever been on a stage with. <br />
<br />
I miss them both. I also miss playing blues with artists of such depth. Since my gender transition the blues world has had little room for me, and these days I rarely play blues. The first time Mel saw me after my transition was at a gig at the Trane Studio in Toronto. He was genuinely warm and friendly and told me I looked great. It meant a lot to me. When Mel died, my blues career more or less died and I was acutely aware of that. Life has its many ironies that a black man from Mississippi was the one who kept hiring me. Too often the oppressed become the oppressors and our own life experiences teach us nothing about the struggles of others. He was the one with the open mind and the open heart and he judged me on the strength of my playing, not on what I was. <br />
<br />
Mel has not been celebrated enough in this town. He was the real deal. A genuine legend. His death is a real loss. Irreplaceable. To me, the blues scene in Toronto is shallow, incestuous and inbred. Same old bunch of tired old white guys playing the same old tired three grooves. Too much wanking and very little sincerity or soul. Know why cannibals won't eat musicians? Too bitter.<br />
<br />
R.I.P. Etta and Mel. Love to you both. Thanks for letting me be part of your music.Michelle Josef Carpentryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12504425468988466481noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6931523508565457844.post-10385398864853277152012-01-20T16:13:00.000-08:002012-01-20T17:38:29.969-08:00Etta James RIP<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihEoxQFRr78HvnJoUw1m-86Cjudx8JTKAxen2xPb7Anl1ja7CEw780pQjDGYG-d5Yh7tNMc0KLOONN7Ix9QvHfuLIKrddQznJbrm0bFlfRTDa_Bt8famnXaEYuadaMwVY-qJ7ocis7zXg/s1600/401164_10150597267231049_594596048_11072026_1682701729_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihEoxQFRr78HvnJoUw1m-86Cjudx8JTKAxen2xPb7Anl1ja7CEw780pQjDGYG-d5Yh7tNMc0KLOONN7Ix9QvHfuLIKrddQznJbrm0bFlfRTDa_Bt8famnXaEYuadaMwVY-qJ7ocis7zXg/s200/401164_10150597267231049_594596048_11072026_1682701729_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Albert's Hall All-Stars with Etta. <br />
Left to right-Robert "Omar" Tunnock, John Tilden,<br />
Etta James, moi, Ian Harper, Wayne Mills.<br />
seated in front, Grant Slater and Etta's son Donto,</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I had written previously about Etta in my "Tales" tab, but with her passing today I've been thinking a lot about her and carrying on various discussions on facebook. There will never be another singer like Etta James. It wasn't just about the voice. It was about the passion, the experience, the drugs, the heartbreak, the good times, the bad times. When she sang, her whole life sang. <br />
<br />
I'm really touched about Etta's passing. I played with her many times and she used to "hand grenade" or "blow us up" on stage if we screwed up. I only got "hand grenaded" once. She threw it at me behind her back, while singing. Didn't even turn around, but at the end of the song she did and gave me a big smile. It was all very playful. She had the best ears. She could hear a mouse fart on stage. She played more quietly and more slowly than anyone I had ever performed with. She could hear it if you picked the tempo up, even a beat or two. I credit her with teaching me how to play quietly and still groove. Thank God I never got the "Death Stare". I saw it once on stage-aimed at the keyboard player (who shall remain nameless). It was terrifying.<br />
<br />
Now this particular keyboard player (one of several that worked with Etta in Toronto) was a brilliant player but he developed quite a problem with cocaine. It really affected his attitude. It was a Friday night. We were supposed to go on at 9:30. People began lining up hours in advance to see Etta, and many of them had already been there for several hours. The room was buzzing with anticipation and excitement. 9:30 goes by and no keyboard player. He finally waltzed in around 10 pm. and his attitude was arrogant and defiant (I call cocaine the asshole drug-it turns everyone but you into an asshole). This was seriously not cool. Etta didn't say a word to him. (You gotta remember that Etta had wrestled with her own drug demons and there was no conning her. She was an expert. She didn't suffer drug addicted fools very well. She liked to have a toke or two of hash before she went on stage. That was about it. Didn't see her drink or ever loose control).We quickly got on stage and got the room rocking. Etta used to do two medleys. One was the "slow" medley and one was the "really slow" medley which included "At Last". We started the "slow" medley. It began with the keys playing slow, open arpeggiated chords that set up the groove. He began playing-eyes closed, thinking he was in the groove, but it was way too fast and definitely NOT in the groove. Etta just sat on her stool and stared at him.<br />
<br />
<div>This is when I saw the Death Stare. (Etta told me she could actually stare someone to death. Said she learned it from her grandmother. She called it the Jamaican Death Stare). She glared at him with this absolutely evil, malevolent stare, like a laser beam and said "stop playing!!!" Now this is on stage, in front of a packed house, hanging on Etta's every breath and nuance. The place went silent. "Stop playing!! And do again!! and do it right!!!! It was really heavy. I was truly frightened by that look and was glad it wasn't directed at me. Etta humbled that man in front of everyone. He had it coming. He did it again and he did it right, but he never played with Etta James again. </div>Michelle Josef Carpentryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12504425468988466481noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6931523508565457844.post-20176541983117728632012-01-18T16:46:00.001-08:002012-01-18T16:46:25.884-08:00NewsMichelle Josef Carpentryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12504425468988466481noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6931523508565457844.post-85846201350658764232012-01-18T16:28:00.000-08:002012-01-18T16:45:17.251-08:00Tales from 2007A year in the life<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>The year started off with a couple of showcase sets with Shakura S'aida and Treasa Levasseur at the TBS Blues Summit, the bi-annual blues shmooze held in Toronto. Then it was in the studio for a new album with Canada's premier folk poet Bob Snider. Then it was more sessions at Ozworld with Max Woolaver and then off to the Folk Alliance in Memphis. I spent a wonderful afternoon watching Penny Lang record at the legendary SUN Studio soaking up the vibes, checking out the big knob Ampex recorders in the museum upstairs. A visit to the Rendezvous was de rigeur.<br />
My March hilight was performing with international folk icon Bill Bourne at Harbourfront Theatre in Toronto. Bill has got the deepest groove and the biggest voice and the greatest hands that add up to the apt title the Voodoo King.<br />
The summer festival season got off to an early start with the first annual Twisted Pines Music Festival in Midland Ontario on the May 19-20 weekend. I played with three bands there-Brian Blain, Treasa Levasseur and Hey Stella! I hope that this festival finds it's legs and becomes a mainstay on the festival curcuit. <br />
Festival season went into high gear June thru Sept. I performed at more than a dozen Canadian festivals with a diverse line up of artists including Treasa Levasseur, the legendary Mel Brown, Shakura S'aida and Brian Blain. <br />
One of the hi-lite of my professional life was performing at the Montreal Jazz Festival with Shakura S'aida in June. We had a killer set with Shakura totally tearing the house down. (Actually it was an outdoor stage, but you know what I mean). After our performance in the backstage area I noticed a distinguished looking gentleman that I thought I recognized but couldn't quite place. He gave me a warm smile and I went over to meet him. He stuck out his hand and said "Hello, I'm BERNARD PURDIE and you're a really good drummer". I literally felt a buzz go up my arm. Now check this out. I idolized Bernard's drumming. HE's the funk meister on Aretha Franklin's Rock Steady. He's recorded with Steely Dan. He's the creator of the Purdie Shuffle. I almost fell on my knees and did the "I'm not worthy" routine from Wayne's World, but I managed to maintain my dignity and thanked him for his kind words and encouragement. I credited him with being a huge influence on my drumming (along with Al Jackson Jr.) and told him that if he liked my drumming it was because in part, I try to play like him. What a great moment!!!!!<br />
Then it was off to the Rockies for most of July on a western tour with Bill Bourne and his marvelous 5 pc band, culminating in sessions in Edmonton for a new CD. <br />
For the 21st year I was part of the Edmonton Folk Festival Houseband (under the leadership of Amos Garrett). This year we backed up the ecstatic 77 year old Little Willy Littlefield, who more than amply proved that he's still got IT!!! Little Willy is the man who penned "I'm Going To Kansas City. What a gas that was. <br />
September brought more festivals including the Eaglewood Folk Festival where I performed with Treasa Levasseur and the Shelter Valley Folk Festival where I played a mainstage set and several workshops with Bill Bourne. We do this cool duo thing with him on guitar and stomp and I play drums and percussion. It's all groovy and primal and I love it. One of the hi-lites of Shelter Valley was jamming with my old boss Ember Swift. She graciously invited me to join her and Lyndell Montgomery and Cheryl Reid on their mainstage set. Big fun. These small Ontario festivals are really sweet affairs with great music, great vibes, great crafts and great food. They include camping areas with a wonderful communal atmosphere with nightly campfires and jam sessions. <br />
Fall is here, the leaves are turning into a splattered pallet of colors and winter is gathering on the horizon. I'll be back in the studio with Treasa Levasseur at the end of October to record a new CD. She is so fabulous. Totally the real deal. I'll also be backing her up at the annual Women's Blues Revue to be held at Massey Hall (Toronto's most prestigious concert hall) on Dec. 1<br />
<br />
Thanks for your interest.</div>Michelle Josef Carpentryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12504425468988466481noreply@blogger.com