Joe McElhaney: Albert Maysles

The Maysles Brothers were major players in documentary filmmaking, especially in the 1960s and 1970s. Stylistically, their influence continues to rocket through the present and beyond us into the future. 

Beyond Albert Maysles (1926-2015) and David Maysles (1931-1987) and "direct cinema," consider who they were lucky enough to work with: not only gifted editors like Detroiter Charlotte Zwerin (who in turn directed Thelonious Monk: Straight, No Chaser, 1988),  but also John F. Kennedy, Jackie Bouvier Kennedy, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Orson Welles, Marlon Brando and Truman Capote. Two of their most easily recognizable films are Gimme Shelter (1970) and Grey Gardens (1975). The latter, focusing on "Big" and "Little" Edie Bouvier Beale and their crumbling tomb of an estate, has attained cult status. 

I have a copy of the Criterion Collection's edition of Salesman (1969) in the pipeline, and will likely post on it in the near future. 

Joe McElhaney's Albert Maysles in the Contemporary Film Directors series provides a useful overview of the Maysles Brothers' work, historical context, and thoughtful consideration of the cultural impact of direct cinema / cinéma vérité.

Question: what's your response to documentary film? And, in the print world, how about creative nonfiction vs. fiction? 

Today's Rune: The Self. 

'The Rolling Stones: Charlie Is My Darling -- Ireland 1965'

Andrew Loog Oldham and Peter Whitehead's The Rolling Stones: Charlie is my Darling - Ireland 1965 covers a mini-tour of Ireland -- fifty years ago -- in black and white. This nifty bit of cinéma vérité clocks in at a little more than an hour. Even in black and white, the Stones colorfully burst through a threadbare socioeconomic backdrop. The people and culture of the UK and Ireland are just then beginning to emerge from the grim preceding era -- of two world wars and the Great Depression, not to mention the Irish Civil War. 

In between wild music sets, Charlie is my Darling lets each member of The Rolling Stones say something. In this original lineup of the band (but not including keyboardist Ian Stewart), we hear from Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Brian Jones, Bill Wyman and the beloved Charlie Watts of the title. 

Two things stand out about the band during this 1965 Irish tour. First, Brian Jones is already fairly well checked out. He doesn't see much of a future and seems almost schizophrenic much of the time (when present at all). Second, Mick Jagger is the clear leader of the band, and for good reason. Considering that he was only twenty-two years of age at the time of filming, his observations are thoughtful and even visionary.  He speaks of the social fabric of fifty years before (1915 -- during The Great War) and how things might be fifty years hence -- in 2015, when The Rolling Stones are even now still touring. The other three lads -- Keith, Charlie and Bill -- are going with the flow and keeping at the music.

 Today, fifty years later, Mick, Keith and Charlie are still in the band and still seem about the same as they were in 1965, albeit with fifty years' worth of road mileage behind them. Bill Wyman retired from the band in 1993 when he was in his mid-fifties. The quixotic Brian Jones died in 1969 at the age of twenty-seven. Ian Stewart died of a heart attack in 1985 at the age of forty-seven. 

Charlie is my Darling is a jagged but durable time-piece that adds to the solving of a larger puzzle: how does one best absorb, understand and appreciate both change and continuity?

Today's Rune:  Possessions. p.s. Andrew Loog Oldham departed from the Stones' production and management team within two years of Charlie is my Darling. Peter Whitehead, the director, continued to work with the Stones for a little bit, and he also worked with Pink Floyd.    

Nik Sheehan: FLicKeR (2008)

FLicKeR (2008), a trippy Canadian documentary directed by Nik Sheehan, delivers a good, eclectic soundtrack via Edmund Eagan, a mix of colorful visuals (archival included) and thoughtful interviews. Plenty of intense, interesting stuff to mull over. 

Watching FLicKeR or a Dream Machine directly, it's hard to escape the occasional bombardment of light -- you may need to close your eyes at times, or feel nauseous. Those who peer directly into the Dream Machine are said in the film to have about a one in four thousand chance of being thrown into a seizure -- especially if prone to epilepsy. Best to keep one's eyes closed in front of the spinning lights and colors. And: unless you want to go blind, don't stare into the Sun. Or so it is said. 

DJ Spooky / That Subliminal Kid

Included:

Kenneth Anger

William S. Burroughs (archival)

Cybernetic Tortoise (1950)

Dream Machine

John Dunbar

Sophie Duplaix

Marianne Faithfull

John G. Geiger (book: Chapel of Extreme Experience: A Short History of Stroboscopic Light and the Dream Machine) 

John Giorno

Brion Gysin (archival)

Brian Jones’ spirit energy

Jean-Jaques Lebel

Genesis P-Orridge & Psychic TV

Iggy Pop

Lee Renaldo

Floria Sigismondi (The Runaways) 

Ian Sommerville (archival)

DJ Spooky aka That Subliminal Kid

Stooges

And others! 

Today's Rune: Wholeness. 

Have You Seen Your Brother, Baby, Standing in the Shadow?

Mysterious interior of the Mezquita de Córdoba, June 2014.

Inside the Mezquita de Córdoba, an ancient place multilayered with surrounding Roman, Moorish (Islamic), Jewish and Catholic vibes.

The Mezquita de Córdoba from across the Guadalquivir river -- Roman Bridge on the left. Click on a tower to see larger image.


Today's Rune: Joy.

At the Bend of the Fray, or Message in a Drinking Vessel

Glass is groovy. Ceramics, too. Plastic fills the oceans blue. 

These bottles are all from the 1800s, the nineteenth century, or thereabouts. One thing we all know is this: they're certainly not from the 21st century, not in the USA, anyway.

It's been eye-popping to see the wide variety of drinking vessels in cultural repositories lately, from hearth and home to the Nasher and Ackland Art Museums at Duke and the University of North Carolina, respectively. What art -- what culture! Things to keep and reuse many a time, not swill like some sugary glop down the gullet and then toss in the trash pile in minutes flat. Slow food, not fast food! Community, sharing and hospitality! Listen to some modern-day Homer or Sappho -- there are tales to sing and tell!

In the case of the above vessel, I don't know what it's for exactly. It could be a funeral urn for all I know. Is that Eros or a Harpy, the Lady or a Flying Tiger? Take your pick and pass the wine, please.


Today's Rune: Joy.    

Not Fade Away

Not Fade Away (2012), David Chase's theatrical film debut, has strong elements -- the historical backdrop of the 1960s, both locally (New Jersey) and broadly; James Gandolfini as the father of a nuclear family; three sisters from two families, all interesting; extended family and friends; ditch-digging workers; and period music, with visual footage -- but all in all, it can't surpass any single episode of Chase's The Sopranos on HBO, nor Mad Men on AMC. The problem is point of view. We hear narration from one of the sisters, which is fine, but the main focus is on a dingbat brother who lacks charisma, charm, drive or courage as he becomes part of a fledgling garage band.* Much better results would come from a closer, sustained look at life from the perspective of the James Gandolfini character -- he is put upon, he becomes physically sick, he has epiphanies -- or either of the Dietz sisters (Joy and Grace, played respectively by Dominique McElligott and Bella Heathcote), both Bohemians, one mentally unstable and the other rock steady.

I enjoyed the period feel and details of Not Fade Away, brief scenes of and banter about the Rolling Stones, blues and the times, and quips about Michelangelo Antonioni's Blowup / Blow-Up (1966). About Antonioni's film, Grace Dietz suggests that the rustling of trees serves as musical soundtrack during a key scene, rather than a more heavy-handed signaling of how specifically to respond as film audience. Small victories for Not Fade Away, but better than a total wash.

Today's Rune: Warrior. *Of the band members, only Gene (Jack Huston) shows any spark.   

Ramblin' Jack Elliott Comes to Town (Part II)

Jack Elliott and friends at Live Oak Music Hall & Lounge (1311 Lipscomb Street, just off Magnolia) in Fort Worth, Texas (continued).

Ramblin' Jack sort of complimented Larry Mahan's black hat look with his own white hat and red suspenders, cowboy clothes, boots and acoustic guitar. He did "Old Shep" after a story abut his dog Caesar who would occasionally take the wheel of an old pickup truck and drive very slowly. He tuned up, said this was the final stop on his latest five week or so tour, that this was the first time he really tuned his guitar right. "It's an honor to break in a new edifice," he said.

Of his moniker, he noted "there’s no 'g' in his name except in England," where they say "Rambling Jack." Put his shades on after a while. Told about Jesse Fuller, the "Lone Cat," and did Fuller's "San Francisco Bay Blues," explained how the Lone Cat created his own multi-faceted instruments.

At some point, Ramblin' Jack got tired of his voice cracking due to touring and "weather changes," and asked for a medicinal drink from the bar. Live Oak owner Bill Smith brought him a glass of whiskey or its equivalent on ice.  Jack: "There’s too much ice . . ." He explained that too much ice is bad for one's humors (or humours, if you prefer), especially while singing and talking.

He told tales about busking around Europe for years in the 1950s, right into the early 1960s, with his wife at the time, June (Hammerstein/Elliott, now Shelley).  They eventually parted ways and later she became a special assistant to The Rolling Stones during their great Exile On Main St. (1972) period in France. He mentioned her memoir, Even When It Was Bad... It Was Good (Xlibris, 2000) -- more to tell about the whole episode, maybe in another post.   

After a particular breakup (with June?), Ramblin' Jack found himself in the middle of a snowstorm in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, a local appearance cancelled on account of the weather, so he made his way to a DJ friend's radio station and did some stuff on air until the DJ decided to close down the station. Before he did, Jack climbed a hundred rungs up the radio tower into the storm, head thrust into snow swirling all around, before coming back down, feeling bleak and cold. The DJ took him to a mountaintop hunting lodge, made a fire and they settled down to venison, Wild Turkey and a Bob Dylan album. This was when he learned (despite being a slow learner, he said) Dylan's "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right" (and later recorded it, in the late 1960s).  When he first played it with Bob Dylan in the audience, Dylan said, "I relinquish it to you, Jack." And then, after this storied introduction, Ramblin' Jack played the song and it was a truly groovy moment!   

At various times, Ramblin' Jack's live singing style reminds me of Willie Nelson, Woody Guthrie, Nick Cave, Neil Young and Bob Dylan.  Here he did "Diamond Joe" and a mix of folk, blues, country and country rock.

 

He also did one version of  Jelly Roll Morton's "Windin' Boy," which has the line "I’m the Windin’ Boy, don’t deny my name." (He referenced Alan Lomax here -- and there are two versions, both ribald but one version more so than the other -- as in NC-17 rating).

Ramblin' Jack Elliott is a living reminder that recorded music really only goes back about a century. What's incredible is that he (like Chuck Berry and B. B. King, dudes I've also turned out to see in the near past) has been playing and singing for more than half of its entire arc. How humbling and cool is that? My motto: any artist 65 or over, get out and see 'em before they retire or otherwise stop performing -- if possible.

Today's Rune: Journey.  

 

 

The Fifty Year March

Fifty years on, the People's Republic of China and a divided Korea are still here. Vietnam reunited, Germany reunited, a post-Soviet world. Landing on the Moon, Mission to Mars. The USA is still here. France is still here. The Irish Troubles are over, more or less. Independent Armenia. Arab Spring. Middle East troubles -- still here. James Bond and the Rolling Stones -- still here. Civil Rights reforms -- still ongoing. Wars -- ongoing. Copy machines. Scanners. Wireless communications. Climate change. First African American President. First Jesuit Pope, and from Latin America. The Fifty Year March continues.

Today's Rune: Journey.  

Rapture of the Deep

Music can quickly induce the rapture of the deep, that feeling caused by an altered state while diving way down below the surface of an ocean or a deep sea. All the more rapturous when such music is drawn out, as on Van Morrison's Saint Dominic's Preview (1972). Wow. Such an altered state can be evoked purely from listening away from "the madding crowd." I get this from Van Morrison, John and Alice Coltrane, from the Rolling Stones' Exile on Main St. (1972), Led Zeppelin's Physical Graffiti (1975) -- and many others.

On the manifest production side, writing does this for me, researching, delving, musing, doing anything I'm "really into."  

How about you?

Today's Rune: Wholeness. 

The Night-Blooming Cereus: A Version

I was introduced to the night-blooming cereus by English architects John Adams and Marina Dunbar in the summer of 1991, in Clapham, London SW4, while boarding at their customized avant-garde house on Macaulay Road, and interning at English Heritage, where John also worked.

The situation during the summer months began straightforwardly but became increasingly complex.  At the outset, John Adams had put up a flyer at English Heritage seeking a boarder (a fairly typical way to supplement household income in London at the time, and to keep creative energies flowing, I suppose), and, via my sponsor (US-ICOMOS*), I was simultaneously seeking a place to board, so the twain met neatly, working out for both parties. If memory serves, I paid sixty pounds per week for room and board at John and Marina's in Clapham, and the same (which became a discount, at first a slight source of tension) when relocated to Bob and Tatiana Blagoveshenskaya Dunbar's (Marina's parents')  labyrinthine flat off Bentinck Street (London W1U) due to unforeseen  circumstances. 

My stay in London started like a verse of Bob Dylan's "Simple Twist of Fate" and took off from there.  I'd end up with an English architect girlfriend, have dinners and wine with John and Nick (Nicholas) Dunbar, hear about Marianne Faithfull (John's ex-wife and Nick's mother) and Mick Jagger, discover how John Dunbar had introduced Yoko Ono to John Lennon, learn about Bob and Tatiana's life and film work in Mexico, Russia and the UK, hear about Marina and John Dunbar's twin sisters Jennifer (married to American poet Ed Dorn) and Margaret, speak at length with their son Lev (whose break in mental health was the catalyst for my relocation), hang out with Italian poet-sculptor and fellow Bentinck Street lodger Livia Livi, and yes, yes, see the great night-blooming cereus growing from what appeared to be latticework in a sort of solarium-and-socializing space at the Macaulay Road residence.

Marina Dunbar and John Adams told of the Mexican varieties of night-blooming cereus, the Queen of the Night. This strange and resilient cactus plant represented something about Mexico to them. In 1968, while Jennifer Dunbar and Ed Dorn headed to Paris to see the "disturbances" there, John worked as an architect at the Summer Olympics in Mexico City, the one caught up in the Tlatelolco student massacre and featuring the Black Power salute. Bob and Tatiana had married in Mexico City at the beginning of the Second World War, and had started their family there before being redeployed to the British embassy in Moscow. In a sense, the night-blooming cereus was Mexico.

The mystique of the night-blooming cereus came in its name and origin. It bloomed rarely, and at night. Maybe once a year, maybe more, maybe never. 

When I was preparing to return to the USA (or "States" as they would say), Marina gave me a couple of moistened leaves in a plastic bag, and back went strands of their night-blooming cereus to the Americas.  Twenty-one years on, several plants have sprung from these "mustard seeds." It's a hearty and weird cactus, this night-blooming cereus, though I have yet to see one bloom at night or at anytime at all, with my own eyes. In due time, I suspect. Somewhere, somehow. Meanwhile, the story of its origin remains for me as transcendent as the night-bloom of a summer's dream. 

Today's Rune: Fertility.     

*The US National Committee of the International Council on Monuments and Sites, a fully paid internship, enough to survive on overseas.  Pictured at top: cover of Night-Blooming Cereus: Stories by K.A. Longstreet (University of Missouri Press, 2002).
      

Ingmar Bergman: Through a Glass Darkly

Ingmar Bergman's Såsom i en spegel / Through a Glass Darkly (1961) revolves around a mere four characters in a short timespan (twnety-four hours or so). It's not exactly a Thanksgiving gathering, but all of these chracters are family. There's David, the emotionally paralysed father, a writer who has spent most of his time avoiding the rest of them. There are his two children, teenager Minus (Lars Passgård), a student and aspiring playwright, and Karin (Harriet Andersson), an adult recently released from a mental institution where she's been treated for schizophrenia and subjected to electro-shock therapy. Finally, there's Karin's husband, Martin, apparently a professor, or perhaps a doctor who also teaches (it was unclear to me from the sparse dialogue, but he carries a medical kit and mentions dealing with his students). Martin is played by Max von Sydow and David by Gunnar Björnstrand. Not incidentally, in Bergman's Det sjunde inseglet / The Seventh Seal (1957), the former portrays a crusader knight and the latter, his squire.

Cool movie, beautifully shot in black and white on Fårö, an elemental Baltic Sea island.

Karin slips in and out of "two worlds" -- the mundane (pragmatic) and mystical-disordered (schizophrenic).  The way everyone relates to each other seems very true, and Harriet Andersson is superb in flipping the switch on Karin's state of mind, so to speak. 

I've known two schizophrenics, both very smart people. One, in North Carolina for a while, was a physicist and the other, in London, a landscape architect. Both of them would go off into mystical musings while seeming to retain an awareness that they were, or sounded, quite strange compared to those around them. I still remember some of the eerie things they would say. Tasked with conveying messages to both (years apart) and seeing to it that neither did self-harm or lurched into trouble, I also experienced other wild fluctuations in their behavior firsthand. As far as electroshock, it elicits memory loss to varying degrees, from what I've seen.

Bergman's influence extends to the Rolling Stones

Today's Rune: Gateway.          

The Rolling Stones -- Crossfire Hurricane

I'd intended to record The Rolling Stones -- Crossfire Hurricane, a new documentary directed by Brett Morgen, and I did. But while doing so, I also found myself drawn into it immediately, no saving it all for later. Indeed, I found it so mesmerizing that I ended up watching the whole thing straight through.

If you're a Stones fan, go all in! The "archival" footage is worth the whole shebang. But wait, there's more: the now older and wiser bluesmen/rock stars comment about various and sundry aspects of the band's arc along the way, in a refreshing manner (sans talking heads, sticking mostly to action footage and high-intensity music with only their ghostly voices in the background). 

In Crossfire Hurricane, we don't hear about Marianne Faithfull, Anita Pallenberg or various others of cultural import in the 1960s, although their are certainly visual clues of their spectral presence. Rather, the documentary focuses on the main dudes of the band, set within the context of changing times. Overall it's raucous, raunchy, and riveting. I was delighted. Can you dig?

Today's Rune: Signals.

Welcome to Sarajevo

Michael Winterbottom's Welcome to Sarajevo (1997) looks at the Bosnian War (1992-1995) from the point of view of journalists who placed themselves in an up-close position to cover the bloodletting, and from the perspective of "ordinary" Bosniaks caught up in the mayhem. Coupled with Jean-Luc Godard's Notre Musique (2004), I found it to be conciousness-raising and valuable as a testament to recent historical events.

There's no doubt where Winterbottom's film stands on Serbian forces: they are the main aggressors here. Archival footage is interwoven with later filming in an effective way to incorprate some of the atrocities committed by Serbs. We also see a belated international response, with UN peacekeepers making some strides in better protecting civilians. Also, US 1992 Democratic presidential candidate Bill Clinton comes off better than President George H.W. Bush, and for good reason given their differing appraches to the conflict.

As in Syria, Iraq and elsewhere, the Bosnian War is most accurately understood as a painful disaster and human tragedy. In Welcome to Sarajevo, because the war is ongoing, the tram lines are destroyed and there's little thought of rebuilding yet, which is contrasted in the post-war film Notre Musique, when the trams are running again and the Mostar Bridge is nearly restored.

Ensemble acting is solid in Welcome to Sarajevo. Cast includes a couple of American stars (Marisa Tomei and Woody Harrelson) who play it low-key. Also, there's Croatian actor Goran Višnjić, Emira Nusevic, Stephen Dillane, Harriet Fox, Juliet Aubrey, Emily Loyd, Igor Dzambazov and Davor Janjić. Soundtrack is good and includes a well-placed song from the Rolling Stones ("Waiting On a Friend"). 

Today's Rune: Gateway.      

Flight

After the big election, now's the perfect time to see a slew of new movies on the big screen! 

First up: Flight (2012), directed by Robert Zemeckis, starring Denzel Washington and filmed in Georgia, USA.  Washington is superb, the movie is sharp and the soundtrack includes songs by John Lee Hooker ("Never Get Out of These Blues Alive") and the Rolling Stones ("Gimme Shelter," "Sympathy for the Devil"). 

Unexpectedly, there are parts of Flight that immediately reminded me of Werner Herzog's Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans (2009) -- and that's a compliment.  

Overall, I liked Flight a lot more than Forrest Gump (1994).

Thanks to his strong but also nuanced performance, Denzel Washington deserves all the nominations for various awards that he'll undoubtedly garner. Let's not forget John Goodman, Don Cheadle and the rest of the film's crew -- all solid.

Official website: http://www.paramount.com/flight/

Today's Rune: Wholeness.

  

Don't Be a Plonker, or: Please Don't Eat the Daisies

More entries from Surreal London Rebooted, 1991.

I. St. Louis police arrested a 38-year-old man for hitting Sharon Copeland, 35, with a hammer while she was sunbathing in her backyard. According to police, the man told her, "I don't like sunbathers." He also told them, "The metric system angers me."*

II. "The person is never to be thought of as a Thing or a substance; the person is rather the unity of living-though . . . which is immediately experienced in and with our Experience -- not a Thing merely thought of behind and outside what is immediately Experienced . . . Nor can the being of a person be entirely absorbed in being a subject of rational acts which follow certain laws. . ." -- Martin Heidegger, Seit und Zeit / Being and Time (translated by John Macquarrie and Edward Robinson (N.Y.: Harper & Row, 1962), page 73.

III. Frisian barm = a froth of fermenting malt. Barmy on the crumpet = wrong in the head; cracked. A succession of sleek sneers. Sleek tears professed agonizing humility. What a jape.

IV. At Great College Street, I read Rimbaud's London letters . . . hoping to invoke the lost poet's spirit. There is no more 8, only a 5 & 10, though there is an 8 Little College Street just around the corner. There are the walled grounds of the abbey that predates his stay, across from 5, and a narrow cobbled street remains -- near Westminister. Sometimes gliding and colliding he / careens through the streets of Paris.

V. The Rollright Stones. Kept up by Ms. Pauline Flick and her dog Katie near Chipping Norton. She inherited the land of the Rollright Stones that date back 3,500 years or more. She has 28 stray cats at home in an enclosed area, in stables three miles away. She gives the 20p admission fee to charities. She is writing a book about dogs.

VI. Pantisocrats, scatter and make right / Bloom your forest ways & villages / Susquehanna settlements / Transforming time and space. . .

VII. At the Cask & Glass. "Bloody hell! It's the pair from the C & G!" Bartender: "Where's the wedding?" "Chizz!"

Today's Rune: Movement.   *This must be quoting an article from a newspaper or tabloid.

Annie Leibovitz: Life Through a Lens

Annie Leibovitz: Life Through a Lens (2006-2008) is an excellent, rewarding documentary written and directed by Barbara Leibovitz; it previously aired as part of the PBS American Masters series. This one bears repeat viewing, because behind the lustre of star power, there's a lot to absorb about the Leibovitz family milieu, Annie's intense relationship with Susan Sontag (1933-2004), and interesting tips about photography and music. Annie Leibovitz has not just found herself in the right place at the right time -- she deploys herself, positions and places herself, finds her way into the action with great initiative and skill. 

A lot to learn, indeed, but on the first run, I thoroughly enjoyed the footage involving Rolling Stone, John Lennon and Yoko Ono, Hunter S. Thompson, The Rolling Stones, Patti Smith, Chris Rock, and even the cover of The Jim Carroll Band's Catholic Boy. Everything's connected -- I loved it, right down to the weaving in of "2000 Man," a lesser known gem penned by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards that was released by The Stones in 1967 -- and also used in Wes Anderson's sly film Bottle Rocket (1996).  

Today's Rune: Wholeness.  

Coffee 'Round Midnight

When I lived in Chapel Hill, the music scene was very eclectic. Talking Heads in October, Sonny Rollins in November, indie bands at local clubs in between. Always choices, always some new experience. As a permanent state of mind, this dynamic was well established in those moments. 

Sonny Rollins was -- and still is at 81 -- a prodigious jazz sax player, composer and innovator. He's played with Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, Max Roach and Coleman Hawkins, among others. He did the Alfie soundtrack (the 1966 original with Michael Caine) and he backed the Rolling Stones on "Waiting for a Friend" and other Tattoo You (1981) tracks. Cool guy.

Today's Rune: Joy.  

Valdese, North Carolina

Valdese, North Carolina. This mural chronicles the relocation of Waldensians from the Italian Alps to Valdese in the late 1800s. Artistic bilocation. Mystic chords of memory. The benches in the foreground have a grape leaf motif honoring wine.

Waldensians may have broken away from Catholicism, but not alcohol. I like that in a religious sect. Alcohol consumption among proto-Protestants and Protestants is a mixed bag: depends on the group and various articles of faith and dogma. (Mural by Clive Haynes).     

If you've heard of the "Boogie Man" or the "Bogey Man," you already know -- perhaps indirectly -- of another proto-Protestant sect and movement: the Bogomil (or Bogomils). Other "heresies" and "heterodoxies" comparable to the Waldensians (Waldenses, Vaudois): the Cathari or Albigensians (Albigenses), and a half-millennium later, the Huguenots, or French Calvinists.

Christians slaying Christians through the ages: what good fun for all involved! As Mick Jagger put it of the Devil, in 1968: "I watched with glee while your kings and queens fought for ten decades for the gods they made . . ." Indeed, a pertinent post on Fort Caroline, Florida, will appear somewhere down the pike. But meanwhile, a salute to the Waldensians who made their new home in Valdese, North Carolina, and lived to tell the tale.     

Today's Rune: Wholeness.

The Bo Diddley Beat

When you hear the Bo Diddley beat, you know it's the Bo Diddley beat.  What I remember most about Bo Diddley (1928-2008) -- the time he played to an audience numbering in the low hundreds at the Cat's Cradle in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, quite a little while ago -- was this: he was a man, and he was cool. He had black-rimmed glasses, and one of his electric guitars was rigged with bright lights like a big city. He played, in addition to songs from his "classic" repertoire, an original reggae number and some jazzy stuff, too. But mostly, he was slow burn heavy energy thump and sizzle, the man who inspired the Rolling Stones to cover, say, his 1960 song "Road Runner" and his 1957 B-side "Mona (I Need You Baby)." 

Bo Diddley was smart, talented, innovative, charismatic and influential -- all dosed with a sharp sense of humor.
  

Top image: Bo Diddley Is a Gunslinger (1960) -- fourteen years before Mel Brooks' Blazing Saddles.  Sessions included a whole range of interesting people like electric guitarist Lady Bo (Peggy Jones)* -- still performing in 2012; Otis Spann, Willie Dixon and Harvey Fuqua. Let's not forget Leonard Chess and the Bo-ettes: Gloria Morgan and Bee Bee Jamieson. 

*For more on Lady Bo, Go here: http://www.ladybo.com/

Today's Rune: Fertility.