Within the theme songs about drinking, there is an entire sub-theme songs about moonshine.
Drinking Song #26 is Copperhead Road by Steve Earle
Then there’s Moonshine Blues by Ma Rainey, Drinking Song #27.
Here’s Moonshiner performed by Uncle Tupelo – Drinking Song #28
Finally, here are the Osborne Brothers performing Drinking Song #29, a little ditty about Rocky Top Tennessee
And of course there are many more, to be explored later.
Drinking song #25 on our ever expanding list is a country tune called Pop a Top, performed by Jim Ed Brown.
My friend East Texas Red pointed me to this link, a TED talk featuring Eben Bayer. He’s the co-inventor of something called Myco-bond. Essentially, these guys are creating biodegradable packing materials using agri-waste and mycelium. They have a process for cleaning and preparing the agri-waste, which they mix with mycelium in a mold. Think of mycelium as the underground organisms that mushrooms fruit from. The mycelium grows, feeding on the agri-waste and fills the mold. What is left when the mold is removed is a packing material that can be returned to the soil, unlike styrofoam, which sticks around for a long long time. Fantastic idea.
Here’s Drinking Song #24, It was the Whiskey Talkin, Not Me. This isn’t the version I was looking for. There’s another one that starts out as a country tune but features some Dixieland style horns. However, beggers can’t be choosers. Here’s The Killer:
I just finished reading Solomon Gursky was Here by Mordecai Richler. I didn’t read it when it was first published. In fact, this is the first of Richler’s books I’ve read. How is it I bypassed every novel by one of Canada’s best writers? I have no explanation and throw myself on the mercy of the court. I had been reading Charles Portis and was happy to read yet another of his works but I happened to be in a bookstore and I had a few minutes and I do like looking through the shelves more or less randomly – when I came face to face with a whole section of Richler’s work.
I came home with Gursky and immediately started in on it. It was admittedly a slow start. This is an epic novel. It covers a significant chunk of history – of this country – of a century – of a family and it’s presented in bits and pieces. As well, it shifts around in time. I’m saying that this novel didn’t grab me by the throat right away. Neither did it give me cause to reject it. I began reading it in stops and starts, a chapter here, a chapter there. As I became immersed in the Gursky’s and all the history around them, and in the character of the drunken failed writer Moses Berger, I found myself needing to know more and more and more.
Richler takes us all over the place, from the Franklin expedition to Jewish Montreal to a salmon river on the east coast to Saskatchewan. He weaves a complex if somewhat lumpy tale of family, politics, lust and greed. The characters are flawed, sometimes badly flawed and that makes them come to life all the more. Moses is a wreck but he’s a brilliant, obsessed wreck, and the characters are interwoven ingeniously.
Solomon Gursky was Here is a lot of book to take in the first time. I think I’d like to digest this one for a while, maybe a year or two, and then go in again, armed with my memory of the first read, to consider the details without the burdon of needing to know what happened.
Excellent read.
Lots of thunder and lightning around Anchovy World Headquarters this morning, and yes, some rain actually fell.
This one had to come around on the guitar eventually. Drinking Song #23 is Margaritaville by Jimmy Buffett.
In 1987, I was living and working in a storefront studio on Ossington Ave. here in Toronto. It was once a hardware store and had pegboard walls, which made for excellent walls for a painting studio. I fixed up the place so I had a work space and a living space. There was a second studio in the back and in between, there was a shared kitchen. Bathroom and painting storage was down in the basement.
Ossington was much different at that time than it is today. This was before all the Vietnamese Karaoke joints moved in. There were some Portuguese kitchen carpentry shops, and there was a big hardware store and a detox centre and a booze-can. A handful of artists lived in various spaces between Queen and Dundas. I liked it there and made a lot of work in that studio.
I had made a large painting in 86 or 87 called The Bad Inventor and that sparked the idea to make a series of woodcuts (that painting no longer exists). When I pulled the four editions from the vault here at Anchovy World Headquarters, the first of the woodcuts, The Bad Inventor, was not among them. I’m not sure where it is, or if I even still have the edition. I unpacked several editions I produced at that time, and the four I’m going to show you are the ones I think stood the test of time best. I’m happy to report that after all these years, these prints remain in perfect condition. They are all printed with block print ink on Japanese rice paper. For the paper afficianados out there, I’m sorry I don’t recall specifically which papers I was printing on. I used to buy my paper at the Japanese Paper Place, which had a fantastic selection of papers. I recall the place was run by a friendly and knowledgeable woman named Nancy. I didn’t know much about paper and I’m sure she gave me some very good advice at the time.
I showed some of my woodcuts in an exhibition at a small gallery that used to be on Harbord St. It was run by a fellow named Juan. I don’t recall now how we met, just that I was fond of him and his partner and the gallery was an excellent intimate space for the kind of work I was doing. I know I sold a few of the prints around that time – I don’t recall if they sold at the show or after. Since then, though, these prints have been packed away. I think I’ve looked at them every time I’ve moved over the years, but as far as the public is concerned, they haven’t seen the light of day.
When I pulled these out of the vaults the other day, I really enjoyed looking at them again. There is a sense of humour about these prints. I recall trying to work the blocks as spontaneously as that print process would allow. At the time I was really charged up about these and I thought I was going to make loads of woodcut in the future. As it turns out, I wasn’t so good at predicting where my work would take me. Years later I considered making another series of block prints but I couldn’t settle into the process. I wanted the directness of painting and I wanted the ability to paint over, to adjust, to create and destroy forms and images all as part and parcel of the process of painting.
I hope you enjoy these. I’d love to find homes for some of these. It seems a shame to store them for another quarter of a century. If you’re interested in these, I’ll make them available at very good prices. Just contact me and we’ll talk.
This one is called Romantic Figure. The image is 9 inches tall and 7 inches wide. This is an edition of 10 and I still have #s 7,8,9 and 10.
This one is called Patriot. The image is about 7X13″. It’s an edition of 10 and I still have #s 5,6,7,8 & 9.
This woodcut, called On Stage, was my favourite at the time I made them, and remains my favourite today. It’s 7X9″ and I still have #s 6,9 and 10.
This one is called Imperialist. It’s 7X9″ and I still have #s 3-10.
After just the other day acknowledging the passing of Lucian Freud, Cy Twombly and Elwy Yost, I see the news all over the innernets today is that troubled British singer Amy Winehouse has checked out. News reports say her death is unexplained but the public can be forgiven for jumping to the conclusion that it was related to her much publicized heavy-duty drug and alcohol use. RIP
Drinking Song #22 is called Champagne Charlie. Let’s go back to 1932 and Blind Blake:
This tune actually goes further back to 1862. Wikipedia suggests: Champagne Charlie is a music hall song from the 19th century composed by Alfred Lee with lyrics by George Leybourne. It was popularised by performer George Leybourne. The song was first performed at the Sun Music Hall, Knightsbridge in 1867. Leybourne entered in top hat and tails, dressed as a “swell” in immaculate evening dress, with gloves, cane, and scarf, waving a bottle of vintage Moët et Chandon.
Here’s Tommy Trinder from 1944:
I first heard this tune as performed by that curious revivalist Leon Redbone. I dug up a video on YouTube of Mr. Redbone performing it.
27th Street 