the things that I must do consist of more than style

Here’s today’s playlist.

Today’s Seven O’Clock Special was a coupla songs w/birds in ’em: Pink Floyd’s “Cirrus Minor” and Minnie Riperton’s “Lovin’ You.”

Today I also did the first segment of “True Confessions,” where I confess something and play the related song. My confession today was that when I was 15, I wanted to marry Billy Idol. I used to practice writing my name, “Ashley Idol.” The fact that the “White Wedding” video features Billy with a bride onto whose hand he forces a wedding ring, drawing blood, indicates an obvious psychological problem on my part. You can send me your true confessions and related song and I'll play it on the radio. My email address is in the right column of this page.


Arthur Lee of the ’60s band Love died last week. He had a gentle soul and I am sad.

At my house I've got no shackles
You can come and look if you want to
In the halls you'll see the mantles
Where the light shines dim all around you
And the streets are paved with gold and if
Someone asks you, you can call my name

You are just a thought that someone
Somewhere somehow feels you should be here
And it's so for real to touch
To smell, to feel, to know where you are here
And the streets are paved with gold and if
Someone asks you, you can call my name
You can call my name
I hear you calling my name yeah all right now

By the time that I'm through singing
The bells from the schools of walls will be ringing
More confusions, blood transfusions
The news today will be the movies for tomorrow
And the water's turned to blood, and if
You don't think so
Go turn on your tub
And it it's mixed with mud
You'll see it turn to gray
And you can call my name
I hear you call my name

(“A House Is Not a Motel” by Arthur Lee, from the Love album Forever Changes)

The following comes from http://www.love.torbenskott.dk:

The Rock & Roll Troubadour and More

Who is this man so filled with soul?
What are the words he sings to those who search for hope?
He is the slender man with a bulging heart.
Whose fingers enjoy a love affair with notes and measures.

His eyes have seen places that fill the mind with delight.
His lungs have tasted the air of a thousand different corners.
Watch him dance in step with the rhythms that reach the spirit.
The poetic gift that links generations and transcends class.

A voice of many styles sings to those who do not dine together.
The man whose black hat rides atop the tightly tied scarf
Knows the highs and lows that burst forth upon the living.
The craftsman who finds breath using the tools of his trade.

A man of faith who knows of powers beyond his own.
Believes in the beauty and value of love.
Never withheld a gift that was not his to imprison.
Finds life in bestowing presents made of chords and codas.

Knows the love of a woman known for three decades and more.
Trusted in the possibilities that come with each new day.
Dreams of the refrain yet written and the songs yet recorded.
Gracious host to those who live an unusual time table.

by Mike Revord, a hospital Chaplin who came to know Arthur over the last few months.