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This Wheel’s on Fire

I just finished reading Levon Helm’s 1993 memoir, This Wheel’s on Fire. I had heard about it, heard the book was infused with his bitterness toward Robbie Robertson. Tuffy P ordered up a copy online the other day and I gobbled it up. I don’t read a lot of biographies or autobiographies and these days I don’t listen to much pop music either. However, over the years, I’ve listened to more than my share of music by The Band and their buddy Bob Dylan, even if my musical tastes have shifted considerably over the years.  I appreciate the fact that 4 of the 5 players in The Band were Canadian – and when Levon Helm’s voice recovered after many treatments for throat cancer and he released Dirt Farmer and Electric Dirt, those recordings got a lot of play around here.

I enjoyed the storytelling style of this book as well and reading about Levon’s life was fascinating. I’m aware that Robbie Robertson has a much more recent memoir out but having watched some interviews with Robertson talking about those days, I didn’t want to read it, mostly because he comes across as a bored know-it-all Hollywood fat-cat in those interviews. While Helm gives Robertson his due regarding his importance to The Band and their music through a chunk of the book, at a certain point he can’t hold back the bitterness and I notice Levon even stops calling him Robbie and switches to Robertson along the way.

As interesting as is the story of the group’s rise from Ronnie Hawkins’ back-up band to playing with Bob Dylan to recording a remarkable body of work, the real story here is the price of success and the resulting excess, including the pervasiveness of heroin and cocaine among successful musicians.

It wasn’t long after The Last Waltz I more or less stopped listening to much of the music played on the radio. I’ve told people many times that Fleetwood Mac and The Eagles pretty much drove me to other genres of music. Of course there were exceptions along the way, but mostly I haven’t looked back. It seemed to me that much of what I liked in so-called rock music was pretty much over by the time Robbie Robertson shut down The Band.

This Wheel’s on Fire is a good read by a talented and dedicated musician determined to convince us he was in it for the music, who loved that life and managed to keep doing it until his death in 2012.

27th Street Recommended

 

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Drizzly Nature Walk – Sam Smith Park

 

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Highbush cranberry

Today’s nature walk with Miles Hearn took place right in my neighbourhood, at Colonel Sam Smith Park. It was a drizzly morning but the temperature was moderate and comfortable. I didn’t bring my notebook and I restricted photography to those times when the rain stopped or almost stopped.

The park is beautiful on a rainy day and we enjoyed a most interesting walk. There were several varieties of ducks around, including wigeons, identifiable by the white stripe on their heads.

 

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Another interesting bird we came across was a mockingbird, over by the yacht club.

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Mockingbird

I didn’t expect to see any mushrooms today and was surprised when Miles pointed out some large and very old Dryad’s saddle.

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old Dryad’s saddle

There is quite a bit of Knapweed in the park. My (made up) story is that it was named after a long lost relative.

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Knapweed

In the same area we saw some Blueweed, also known as Viper’s bugloss.

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Blueweed or Viper’s bugloss

There are some different oaks in the park. This one with the lovely fall colour is the pin oak. Look at the little pins protruding from the leaf tips.

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Pin oak

Miles pointed out a tree I’ve walked by I don’t know how many times without ever know what it was – a Swedish whitebeam.

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Swedish whitebeam

I’d like to feature one additional very striking plant with bright yellow berries – Bittersweet.

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Bittersweet

 

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Squeeze Box Man

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Regular readers of this blog may recall I wrote a bunch of little stories a while back. They’re now available as a book on Amazon.

These 16 short-short stories are told by Lazy Allen. Once upon a time, Lazy was in the music business, squeeze box man, bellows shaker, veteran of polka’s heyday. When his run in the dance bands came to an end, Lazy found himself working the line at a bottling plant in Toronto with his old buddy Staashu. As far as Lazy was concerned, playing music for a living was ancient history, a distant memory. That was before Staash started talking about bringing polka back from the dead.

Thank you to my friends Sledpress and Arno for advice, and Sheila for the cover artwork.

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Two Mexican Bandits

I can’t listen to too much Townes Van Zandt these days. Those songs are just so sad. Old Townes had all the melancholy in the universe wrapped around his little finger. Now and then though, I stumble into one of his tunes and give it a listen and remember what a remarkably good songwriter he was.