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What Have We Learned On The Internet About The Mindy McCready Tragedy?

Posted in Music, Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on February 20, 2013 | Leave a Comment »

Country star Mindy McCready died of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound on February 17. What are we learning from Internet trolls about her life and music?

–*She was an angel.

–*No she wasn’t, she was a bad mom.

–*Yeah, she abandoned her kids.

–*No she didn’t, she tried to get them back.

–*Yeah, by kidnapping them. Drug addict!

–*Yeah, and her music blows.

–*This was a senseless tragedy.

–*If by “senseless” you mean everybody saw it coming a mile away.

–*You guys don’t know her pain. I know she kidnapped her son, did drugs, forged prescriptions for OxyContin, drove drunk, overdosed while pregnant, jumped bail, neglected her children and murdered a dog. But are those things worthy of judgment?

–*Rest in peace, Mindy.

–*Rot in hell, Mindy!

–*I don’t believe the hate I see on the Internet.

–*I don’t believe the hate I see on the Internet and I am only three years old.

–*Dean Cain is hot!

–*The church is very strict about suicide and she will not be saved. Love, Pope Benedict (ret)

–*The Second Amendment is the law and nobody can change that. Just try.

–*Look, Mindy never did anything to me personally, so I guess I’ll give her a pass.

–*I wish I could just hug those two children close to me, feel their little hearts beating against mine, fondle their hair, whisper to them, “It’s OK. It’s OK” while I explain to them that their mother was a drug-addled screw up.

–*Why does Roger Clemens get to be involved in EVERY scandal?

–*I don’t know. I trust Dr. Drew implicitly and I still think he can save her.

–*I do not trust the liberal media! Mindy is alive!

–*Whore whore whore!

–*You are an evil pig for saying that.

–*He’s just trying to get a rise out of you and her fans.

–*Don’t tell me who I can call evil.

–*Fuck you!

–*No, fuck you!

–*My sister looks like Mindy McCready.

–*Good, maybe your sister will kill herself.

–*You’ve got to be pretty messed up to make Tom Sizemore look good.

–*When I think of those poor children, it just gets me thinking about my own life and my OxyContin additions and the outstanding warrant I have and my constant fear that the police are going to break down my door any minute. And I just think of those poor, poor children.

–*When I got in an argument with my boyfriend about going out with the girls, I put on “Guys Do It All The Time” by Mindy to rub it in his face. And when we broke up and got back together, I had to play him “Ten Thousand Angels” to let him know I wouldn’t fall for it all again. And when we did get back together and broke up again I played “You’ll Never Know.”

–*Is there any question about why he left you?

–*I don’t know, I’m pretty smart about these things. I think this had something to do with the 9/11 conspiracy.

–*An ecclesiastical question: Is that dog going to hell?

–*I never met Mindy, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and blame myself for her death.

–*Death diminishes all of us. Even Mindy McCready’s death. I think.

–*Her Web site headline is “I’m Still Here.” Will somebody please do something about that?

–*Satin Satin Satin!

–*The spelling is “Satan” you dipshit.

–*Mindy, you were let down by so many people. Your mother, your father, BNA Records, the father of your first baby, the judges, Roger Clemens, the parole board, Dr. Drew, Vivid Entertainment, the father of your second baby, the Arizona police, the Tennessee police, Capitol Records, Dean Cain, Drake Berehowsky, The View, the makers of Darvocet. … So many people let you down.

–*You all need help! There is so much hate here.

–*I hate you.

–*I hope you rot in hell and Satan himself gives you a punji stick infection and drinks blood from your skull you impotent wuss. And I hope he pokes your eyes out and eats them like marshmallows that he roasts over licking hell flames before putting them down his gullet and then I hope you can still see with them as he shits them out into fire shit … We love you Mindy!

–*I hope for Mindy’s sake, comments are going to be disabled soon.

–*Comments disabled.

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My Cousin Brad’s Music!

Posted in Music, tagged , , on November 9, 2012 | 1 Comment »

My cousin Brad Rasmussen has got the attention of some music bigwigs for his musical duo, Chamberlin Birch, which today released their debut album on iTunes, along with the video for their first video, “Falling In Love,” which you can see here:

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Live Blogging the Grammys

Posted in Music, tagged , , , , , , , , , on February 13, 2012 | Leave a Comment »

–*Whitney Houston’s premature death casts a pall over the proceedings, and reminds us not only that a huge hunk of talent has left us, but that large amorphous, clumping chunks of mediocrity have not.

–*Pink, Kanye West, Jay-Z and Betty White are conspicuous by their absence.

–*Cross-genre power duets are  kind of like the All Star Game. Why would we want to watch  talented people perform badly just to titillate 13-year-olds?

–*Oh, yeah. This is the Grammys.

–*Suze Orman says variable annuities are a scam. Sorry, I changed the channel there.

–*Chris Brown makes mediocrity his bitch, slaps that mediocrity and rides it like the mediocre whore she is. You could say he rules the mediocrity.

–*Adele wins for best pop vocal for “Someone Like You.” You might remember that as the song that was great 10,000 listenings ago.

–*L.L. Cool J says a prayer for Whitney Houston and tries to turn the Grammys from a sad event into a celebration of music. Bruno Mars turns it back into a sad occasion.

–*How in the hell does Steve Van Zandt zip around the world to tour with the E. Street Band, shoot the show “Lilyhammer,” and still have time to serve humanitarian causes? I guess you really do have a lot of time on your hands if you refuse to play “Sun City.”

–*Student loan debt cannot be discharged in bankruptcy, says Suze Orman. … Sorry, I really wasn’t into that Kelly Clarkson duet with what’s his name.

–*L.L. Cool J is so cool he can ably and confidently lead us through this emotionally confusing moment, when celebration meets loss, in a way that merits comparison with the modernist verse of a William Butler Yeats or the comforting, avuncular, telegenic presence of James Garner on “Eight Simple Rules …”

–*The ceremony of innocence is drowned. If we are lucky, it will drown out that Maroon 5 song about Mick Jagger.

–*Never underwrite anything, says Suze.

–*The Grammys has become expansive enough to include new categories including “Best Grunge,” “Best Gansta Rap,” “Best New Artist Who Is Likely To Die in a Drug Related Incident” and “The Best Bad Music.”

–*We can feel comfortable that even though Bruce Springsteen’s songs are starting to sound the same, at least his energetic performances are still giving him good cardio burn.

–*It’s probably good that Jay-Z is not here, since his bodyguards tend to keep people away from places it’s appropriate for them to be, whether it’s parents trying to get into the Lenox Hill neonatal care unit or Adele trying to get to her Grammy.

–*The Beach Boys’ reunion happens under a cloud–Whitney Houston’s death and Maroon 5′s continued existence.

–*You can’t argue with Adele’s outrageous success. And yet it keeps arguing with you, even after it has made its point, feeling the need to follow you into every grocery store, every Starbucks, every bank and even into your home and onto your television. This sore winner will not stop trying to win the argument.

–*”Beach Boys’ Marooned.” “Maroon 5 Beached.” The possibilities are endless.

–*This just in: Brian Wilson and Keith Richards still alive.

–*Katy Perry and Lady Gaga, with their odd costumes, bizarre technical difficulties and strange agitprop, remind people of Madonna, but increasingly ought to remind people of Andy Kaufman.

–*We all seem to forget that Amy Winehouse died this year, too. Thanks, Whitney, for upstaging Amy when it was her time to shine as the prematurely dead substance abuser of the moment. Does Winehouse get no respect even in death?

–*Taylor Swift is so elegant she belongs in a perfume ad. No, really. She belongs only in a perfume ad.

–*Justin Vernon of Bon Iver thanks everybody who has won a Grammy and people who will never win a Grammy, his agents, his mom and dad and the people his have worked with … . Barbers who shave themselves, barbers who do not shave themselves. Musicians who have never won and who will never be considered for winning. … You know if he just thanked everybody who drew breath, he’d probably cut down on this acceptance speech … but no, according to Godel’s incompleteness theorem, there are still people he will likely not have thanked… did he mention he didn’t think he deserved to be there?

–*The best thing about the Grammys, as we listen to a variety of rap, country, rock, soul and jazz, is that we can all get together in a relaxed atmosphere and agree that we hate each other’s music.

–*Who will win “Artist of the Year”? If you really love music, you could easily turn off the TV before hearing the answer to this misleading, irrelevant question.

–*On an extended version of the Beatles’ Abbey Road suite, Paul McCartney leads a star-studded jam session, including Bruce Springsteen, Joe Walsh, Dave Grohl, and others of a small handful of people the music industry hasn’t been awful to.

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My New Sound Cloud Page

Posted in Music, tagged , , , on July 26, 2011 | Leave a Comment »

As my regular readers/friends/family members/acquaintances/co-workers/fellow Masons known, I am not much of a self-promoter. Oklahomans, a group I sheepishly sometimes admit I once belonged to, don’t like boasting and are sometimes almost pathologically polite and self-deprecating. A sometimes nice quality that keeps us from being Texans–that and a lack of ambition. Anyway, that’s why I create so much material and generally suck at telling people about it. I have this self-defeating idea sometimes that people don’t want to have art shoved down their throat, they want to discover it themselves, which in a way makes it partly theirs. I ought to know that’s stupid, since people regularly take the stuff forced on them by radio as if it’s good when some of it is worthless. And yet shoving people against the wall and saying “Hey, look at my stuff!” always feels to me like I’m being obnoxious, coercive, self-centered and narcissistic. It’s worse when I run into a person who has no problem bragging about his novel in progress, which is going to send him to heights of Olympian glory any day now, and I’m too sheepish to admit that I’ve written a few of them

That’s one of the reasons I let Stephanie do most of the promotion on “The Retributioners,” our hysterically funny if currently moribund Web show. But unfortunately, I don’t have that luxury in my novel-writing career, where I am forced all by my lonesome to look for agents and publishers in squeaky, mousy-voiced little query letters that rarely if ever show the sum of my talents.  I’ve started this process again recently after parting ways with my literary agent and I’m getting used to the rejections all over again. Do you remember the scene at the beginning of “Paradise Lost” where dogs are eating out the bowels of one of the fallen angels? That’s what it feels like trying to sell a novel, just in case you’ve never tried it. Every time I run into a little failure with my ventures, though, I do an honorable thing–I simply start a new project. A new song, a new book or a new screenplay–before the sting of the rejection can hit. Believe me, this shit is starting to pile up, and I’m starting to think that I’m going to drop dead with mountains of work that nobody will ever read or hear or see. That leads to a more self-defeating attitude: Well, maybe everybody will get it when I’m dead and in the meantime I’ll stay happily anonymous.

Stupid, I know.

So, in the interest of promoting myself again, I’m going to focus a bit on my music in this post. As far as I know from my odometer readings (?) on this here WordPress site, I get approximately ZERO hits on my music. Really! I count maybe five click-throughs in the past year total. Maybe the stats page doesn’t count right. Could that possibly be it?

My first reaction to this silence was that my music must suck so bad nobody is polite enough to tell me. I took it like I took all the rejection of the book world: I’ve failed to make an impression, time to move on. I know I can’t sing well and my production is off, and my time-keeping is also a little messy. I finally sent out one tune to some friends to get their reactions. I’d say I got four positive reactions and two lukewarm reactions.

Then earlier this year I played all my stuff for an actual musician who said that, barring my bad time-keeping on the drum machine (a pet peeve of his) my stuff was certainly worthy of hearing, if not nominating for a Grammy. Then another musician seconded that, and then a third. So I tried an experiment–listening to it from other people’s computers. Turns out, a lot of the time I couldn’t open the files, which required users to download QuickTime. Could it be that nobody even had a chance to reject my stuff?

So now I ponder: Do I dare ask you, my dear readers, who came here seeking comedy and or Republican-bashing, to listen to my music one more time?  If you are willing to, then I’m making the journey easier for you: I’ve finally opened up an account with Sound Cloud. This player is meant not just to share music but to be interactive–it allows users to make comments on parts of the tracks they don’t like. But the best thing for me is, it doesn’t require you to download files to your computer. You can just press the big, candy-like button here:

Leaving Babylon

In the interest of space and a clean layout, I’ve moved all these Sound Cloud files to a new tab on my home page, which you can see at the top of the menu or which you can click on here. (You can also check out my Sound Cloud profile page, but I don’t like it as much because I can’t control the format or song order.) Not all my music is on Sound Cloud, just 13 of what I consider the best songs. If I start getting some decent hits, then I’ll upload more of the music, and if I get a lot of hits, I’m going to start going into promotion mode–sending out free MP3 files with my complete album “Time Traveling Humanist Mangled By Space Turbine” to anybody who requests it. Here’s a sample of the art work, created by my friend Corey Sanders:

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RIP Amy Winehouse

Posted in Music, tagged , , , , , , , on July 25, 2011 | 1 Comment »

It’s very rare that my wife turns me on to music. She only likes a handful of acts, and tends to listen to them repeatedly. But she did me a great favor when she slipped me some Amy Winehouse a few years ago. Normally, I’m suspicious of Brits trying to pull off American jazz and soul, the same way I’m suspicious of Koreans making Texas BBQ and the French making rap music. Even if they love the idiom and aren’t just exploiting it, that sometimes leads them to make fawning imitations rather than something wholly original.

Not so, Ms. Winehouse, a chanteuse of such sensitivity that it often seemed to border of emotional contortion, a woman who innovated around notes the way great painters played with lines, bending notes as if they belonged inside the trombones and trumpets she was playing off. I dismiss much of the visual style that goes along with popular music, though I must also admit that Winehouse etched a great image for herself–a Goth/punk Mary Poppins with a Cockney voice to match. But it was that voice that rightly catapulted her into the Pantheon. There are a lot of people who put Billie Holiday’s vocal inflections into modern arrangements–think of Macy Gray or Madeleine Peyroux (who masterfully sings Bob Dylan as if he’d been writing for Holiday the whole time). But I think it’s trickier to do against girl group horns and hip-hop beats. If I had to compare instruments, I’d say Holiday’s was more like a clarinet, Winehouse’s more like a bassoon–reedy, rougher, but in her masterful approach, just as vulnerable with a great emotional range that could couch very salty punk rock language amid strings and girl group bombast and come up with something completely different.

I heard a really wrong-headed and simplistic assessment on Facebook Saturday shortly after I heard about Winehouse’s tragic but not remotely surprising death: “Not as good as Janis.” Thus goes the luckless reasoning of the sports fan who wanders into music. A quick reminder, Amy Winehouse wasn’t competing in a Round Robin (“Who was the most fucked up female drug addict soul singer? Mary Hart’s got the results tonight.”) She wasn’t engaging in a fantasy boxing match. (“I’ll bet Janis Joplin could kick Amy Winehouse’s ass,” say the nerds.) As long as we’re going to be obnoxious, I’ll remind the critic that Janis Joplin often tripped into the hysteria range. Amy Winehouse, a more subtle singer, was mostly a fuck up in her private life.

It’s a bit hackneyed to say that great artists are people of great sensitivity, and I don’t like the suggestion that the great ones are all fuck ups or that they have to be. The idea that drugs necessarily play a part in great art is one of those hard-to-die pervasive beliefs most mythologized among those with the least amount of talent and imagination. You need only look at Zappa and Woody Allen and Wayne Coyne and several others to notice that drug free artists are not only sometimes more imaginative but also more prolific. It’s not enough to be greatly sensitive or greatly imaginative but also masterful enough to employ those qualities to your advantage. The need to self-medicate is largely innocuous to these traits if not detrimental (a few people have pointed out already that Winehouse’s drug problems increased as her output decreased over the last few years). If you believe, as David Bowie once pointed out, that the true definition of imagination is the ability to see the affinities of things to illuminate a subject, then you would think drugs are a good way to open up new ways of thinking, but would then also help you quickly fall into a rut if you stayed with them. If you’ve ever known an addict (and I’ve known a few) you probably know how a lot of them are prone to ritual and superstition and repetitive cycles of behavior. This could as easily lead you to artistic retread and make your art as problematic as it would be if you were merely unimaginative.

So now I’ll sound like grumpy old man: Every time I go to the store, I’m bombarded with images of the no-talents who now make up our pantheon, most of them reality TV stars. It makes me sick that someone not only genuinely talented, but also truly imaginative, innovative and bold (something that could describe almost no American Idol contestant) had to go so soon and leave us adrift in a world of pandering hacks. Winehouse’s reputation is going to grow as more people figure out how good she was. Of course, there is probably a horrible romanticism that’s going to sprout after her very unglamorous death, as there was with all the members of the 27 Club. But hopefully we can all look through it and see genius for what it is and addiction for what it is. Not necessarily must the twain meet.

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“The Blue Mom”

Posted in Music, tagged on July 6, 2011 | Leave a Comment »

I promised this song a few weeks ago, but never really mentioned it when it was posted: I’ve put up a new piece, an instrumental called “The Blue Mom.” Don’t ask me what the title means. It is what it is, and can be nothing else. I wrote this after getting a very brief man crush on some ’60s guitar heroes and dared try what amounts to an extended solo. Dear reader, I will never be a guitar master, but sometimes I hope a nice melody will get me where I want to go when my defiant and heedless fingers will not.

Again, if you don’t like it, fear not. You’ve got some 33 other ER Salo Deguierre songs to listen to on this page, most of which do not require fleet-fingered guitar (nor suffer from lack of it).

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Classical Gas

Posted in Music, tagged on June 2, 2011 | Leave a Comment »

Dear Long-Suffering Beauty is Imperfection reader,

You probably noticed that my blogging has slacked off as of late. I apologize for this and guess I owe you an explanation. As regular readers know, I’m going to be a father soon, and impending parenthood has forced me to realign my priorities somewhat. When my son is born, I plan to give him most of my time as the work-at-home parent. This means a novel that I’ve been working on for a really long time (we’re talking years) will likely hit the circular file forever if I don’t get it done now. This has been a pet project of mine that has gotten me through years of unemployment, lonely bachelorhood, career disappointments and generic spiritual malaise. It’s largely been my substitute for religion, this novel, and I’m getting close to saying goodbye to it forever. By the time my son is born, I will only have time to send query letters out, and I’d like to have a complete work to share with agents.

Thus I’ve only had time for a few strident posts like the one I did on taxes yesterday. To my surprise, that blog hit a nerve, and I’ve gotten quite a few hits on it. It’s surprising because all I could think when I read it back to myself the first time was, “Gee, I’m getting increasingly humorless and strident, aren’t I?” Not good for a blog that used to be all funny all the time. In fact, I let the article sit for a week for that reason. But my dear readers all gave me the great vote of confidence I needed, spurred on by my close friend Chris Barton,  author of “Can I See Your I.D., True Stories of False Identities” (in your local independent book stores now!) Thank you Chris and everybody who liked the article, strident or otherwise!

Best to follow up with something harmless. I’ve got other things sitting idle on my desk as well, including quite a few pieces of music. So today I thought I’d share one with you.

Here is a piece with a pretense of being classical. Don’t worry, Salo Deguierre fans, I have not gone soft on you. This is actually just the opening of an album I’ve partially written called “The Mechanical Bean,” a satire about a family that obtains super powers after genetically modified food pollen from a corporate farm blows onto their land. The idea of this not-yet-finished album is to mix moods and genres, hence my first foray into “classical.”  I’ve got another piece I hope to share in a couple of days when I get it properly compressed.  That one’s more bluesy.

In the meantime, I hope you don’t think this blows, and if you do, then please enjoy re-reading my article on taxes!

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Alice Ploughshare

Posted in Music, tagged , , , , , , , on April 12, 2011 | Leave a Comment »

Another weird offering from ER Salo Deguierre. My first country song. Sort of.

It was inspired by some of the more interesting weirdness I was subjected to as a young person growing up in a certain southern-western-Midwestern state.

I have to apologize to those who are having trouble hearing my music. I get few responses on it, so I just assumed nobody was listening to my self-indulgent noodlings. But then somebody told me recently that part of the problem is my files are hard to open with this horrendous WordPress version of Quicktime. If that’s the case, I’m very sorry, dear Beauty is Imperfection reader, and I will try to figure out an alternative in the future. I’m a bit tech challenged, though, something I’ve discussed on a few posts here, and so far my efforts to embed something cooler like SoundCloud have been all for nought.

As usual, all sounds and music made by yours truly.

“Alice Ploughshare”
By ER Salo Deguierre

When I walked in the head I found you tweaking
Shivering with a mirror and a straw
I wrapped you up and covered you in blankets
Bloody as the day that you were born

When Interstate 41 turns to Interstate 32
That’s where every trucker’s dream becomes a nightmare
But I still love you
Alice Ploughshare
You were out there stealing my anhydrous
I could not shake you
With your vacant stare
Just the kind of love I always I needed

Did you see those contents under pressure?
When you mixed them up inside that tub?
Did the police hear the lab explosion?
When they were rousting you outside the club?

With your pupils dilated
You’re still stocking Sudafeds
Making cocktails with the cowboys in the drive-thru

But I won’t share you
Alice Ploughshare
Eighteen months of hard-time prison labor
Can I come see you?
You smell like burning hair
Only 30 minutes with no touching
They won’t possess you
Alice Ploughshare
Together we can draw blood from a stone.

Was this love a match we made in heaven?
Or simply one we made down in Ardmore?
Your teeth rotting out and mine just browning
Another year I can’t give up the Skoal.

Though your eyes were black and dead
Your teeth falling out your head
We had more happiness than any two folks had a right to

But chains don’t bind you
Alice Ploughshare
I saw you run away when you malinger
But then I chased you
Through carnivals and fairs
Heaven just a pipe between your fingers

And I won’t share you
Alice Ploughshare
Tweaking all the way to Texarkana
And I still love you
Alice Ploughshare
It never ever seemed you could stop talking

Image: Simon Howden / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

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Inspired by Pop Star Pink, Led Zeppelin Re-Releases “Stairway to Fucking Heaven”

Posted in Music, tagged , , , , , , on April 10, 2011 | Leave a Comment »

After watching pop star Pink release her song “Fucking Perfect,” rock legend Jimmy Page announced that Led Zeppelin will release the uncut original version of “Stairway to Heaven,” now known as “Stairway to Fucking Heaven.”

Pink’s song has been released in two versions, the “clean” version of “Perfect” and then the “Fucking Perfect” version that has gained much traction on YouTube and other video sites.

“There’s a lady who’s sure, all that glitters is gold, and she’s fucking buying the stairway to fucking heaven,” sings Robert Plant in his inimitable overblown tenor.

“When I heard Pink sing ‘Fuckin’ Perfect,’ I knew that we had reached a new level of emotional honesty,” said Page. “Pink knows that to be perfect alone is not enough. She had to ratchet up the emotional intensity and make the song even more fucking perfect, if you will. I knew when I heard her blistering truth that the original vision of ‘Stairway’ had to be released immediately.”

Pink, 75% of whose songs deal with self-esteem issues, said she wanted to release the “fucking” version of her “Fucking Perfect” song because it was important to address the in stark terms the utter helplessness that so many of her fans feel, a deep internal wrenching pain she believes is illuminated better by the timeless two-syllable expletive which means “to have sex” and has etymological origins in Germany.

“If there’s a bustle in your fucking hedge row, don’t be alarmed now,” sings Plant. “It’s just a fucking spring clean for the fucking May Queen.”

Literary critic Harold Bloom now records 24 uses of “fuck” in “Stairway to Heaven,” and wondered if it were necessary.

“You forget that the word ‘fuck,’ liberating as it might be, should water down the sentiment a bit. Unnecessary adjectives tend to sap the strength of your prose. I would admonish Pink and Page and Plant that sometimes less is more.”

Page and Plant disregarded Bloom’s criticism.

“Yes there are two paths you can fucking go by, but in the long run. There’s still fucking time to change the road you’re on,” sang Plant, baring his Dionysian hippie stance, unencumbered by petty bourgeois morality that would keep him from singing “fuck, fuck, fuck” as much as he pleased.

According to the Billboard Hot 100 chart, Pink’s song has made her millions of fucking dollars. She says that it appeals to those wounded members of her audience who feel that nobody is fucking listening to them and treating them like fucking children when they’re just trying to do the best they fucking can.

“I wanted to tell the girls of America who are feeling self-hatred, maybe even feeling suicidal, that this is about them. They are not just perfect, they are fucking perfect. And by that I mean, don’t doubt I’m serious just because I’m saying it over and over and over.”

The trend has influenced not only music, but publishing; a slew of book titles are expected to hit the shelves next year, including, “Chicken Soup for the Fucking Soul,” “I’m Fucking OK, You’re Fucking OK,” and “Our Bodies Our Fucking Selves.”

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Sum’thin’ Nice

Posted in Music, tagged on March 19, 2011 | Leave a Comment »

Here’s a bit that I’ve been workin’ on for a while: “Five Wounds,” a guitar piece I wrote in the style of my hero John Fahey. It’s somewhere between folk-blues and muzak, but maybe you’ll like it. As always, I recommend you go listen to John Fahey for the real thing, but maybe this is good music for reflecting, digesting or doing your taxes.

The guitar is in standard tuning. If you can tell me what key I’m playing in, then you’re smarter than I am.

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