The Monkees had a big hit with Mary, Mary. I was a closet Monkees fan – reluctant because the guys I hung out with dissed the Monkees. They were fans of real music not pop music. To them The Stones at #1 was revolution, the Monkees at #1 was bubblegum commercials ruining music. 🙂
Then out of the blue Paul Butterfield did a cover version of Mary, Mary on their East-West album that amazed me. This was my introduction to them – it came because a buddy of mine was a harmonica player & was into Butterfield’s harp playing. East-West was my introduction to the band & thanks to its amazing instrumentals I became a fan. I did end up with the previous lp but found it too bluesy for me(then).
In my collections I now have: Lost Elektra, Blues Band, East-West, Resurrection of Pigboy Crabshaw, In My Own Dream, Keep On Moving & Live w:Hammond. I love the Pigboy, Dream: horns were added to the band – the songs spoke to me as well Drunk Again, Drifting & Drifting – too many to list, some standards & even some soul classics & fine originals. ‘I’ve got a mind to give pp living & go shopping instead’ is a line I wish I had written. Butterfield has a great voice, his harmonica playing is world-class. The core band was amazing – Mike Bloomfield eventually replaced by Elvin Bishop. By Keep on Moving, the band ran out of steam & Butterfield started Better Days.
I have some live lps on a mp3 collection. They are excellent & the sound quality is pretty good too. Also on that mp3 collection are a pair of Chicken Shack’s; OK Ken was an lp I loved, though the faked radio show set up did get boring eventually. Shack eventually mutated into Fleetwood Mac; The Best of John Hammond: more solid white man sings the blues; A live 1975 bootleg of Mike Bloomfield – that man could play. I’d love to find the porno soundtracks he recorded.
The End Of Time
‘I call on the power of time
The irreversible energy and propulsion of the hour.’
G’ra raised his arms to the LED display high over his head. The red flicker of numbers flashed around the room and bounced of the dome of the chamber. There was a hush through the many gathered for the Evening Ministration.
The LED spanned the full twenty foot length of the raised dais. A Thin columns of pale blue pulsed at either end of the read out. The numbers spewed out the years, months, minutes, hours, seconds, nanoseconds that were left till the End of Time.
‘We are gathered here to give time its due
To return what cannot be returned
To give thanks’
‘Yea! We give thanks.’ the crowd intoned slowly. ‘We give thanks.’ Their eyes werLe held by the blur of nanoseconds.
‘Yea. Time is moving on.’
‘Yea. Time is moving on.’ the ragged congregation responded. ‘We will move with it.’
‘Yes my fellows time is life. We have time only for our lives. Without our lives time continues but without time we have no life.’
‘Time gives us life.’
‘Who will be the first to testify?’ G’ra looked over the crowd. The flicker of the LED played across their eager faces. His eye fell upon one who was not caught by the nano blur.
‘You. Almost a man.’ he pointed.
‘Me?’ the almost man looked up in awe.
‘Yes. Come forth my child. You have only just begun time’s adventure. Tell us your name.’
‘I … I am called Slat.’
‘Slat,’ the crowd reluctantly turned from the blur to look to Slat. ‘Speak to us Slat.’
‘I haveU this,’ He pulled a pocket watch from deep in his tunic. It dangled gold and burning in the red of the LED.
‘Ah. An ancient time keeper.’ G’ra reached out to fondle the watch. He had not seen one so old. As it turned in the glow it gave off a pale green light that drew his hand. The green looked so cool, so clean.
Slat pulled it back. ‘No hand but mine can touch this. Even now in the power of time only I have the right to the hours this clock holds.’
‘No my son,’ G’ra stooped slightly. ‘Time owns us but no one man can hold time. No one man.’
All eyes were for a rare moment on Slat’s watch. Each felt a tremble of peace, of escape from the irritating tug of the nano blur.
‘Till now.’ Slat pulled the stem of the watch. The LED stopped.
‘He has stopped time!’ A rumble went through the crowd as he years, m>onths, minutes, hours, seconds, nanoseconds stopped.
‘Yes.’ Slat pushed the stem back in and the LED display flickered back to life.
‘This is some trick,’ G’ra scowled.
‘He held time,’ a large man pushed his way through the crowd. ‘The boy is the one who will stop time so we may live.’
‘No that is heresy.’ G’ra stood to his full height. ‘No hand can stop the time. None can bring back the hour past. This … this is a trick.’
He turned to confront Slat but the boy was gone. ‘See time has taken the child.’
‘No no.’ the man who had pushed foreward pulled himself on to the stage. ‘We have seen the hour of time stilled.’
‘We have seen the hour.’ the crowd intoned after him.
‘Let The Ritual Of Time’s End begin.’ the man turned to G’ra. ‘You must start the ritual now.’
November 18, Wednesday: judging at Hot Damn! it’s a Queer Slam – Supermarket Restaurant and Bar 268 Augusta Ave., Toronto, Ontario M5T2L9
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