The Coronavirus Blues

The lonely vending machine
He’s sitting in the corner
Waiting for the coins to drop
Nickels, dimes and quarters

But there ain’t no coin
There ain’t no coin
There ain’t no coin
To drop
But there ain’t no coin
There ain’t no coin
There ain’t no coin
For the slot

There’s a washing mahine
Standing in the laudromat
Waiting for the dirty clothes
Stained with mud and chocolate

But there ain’t no coin
There ain’t no coin
There ain’t no coin
To drop
But there ain’t no coin
There ain’t no coin
There ain’t no coin
For the slot

And the slots off in Vegas
They’re waiting for a handout
From the unlucky many
Who are down for the count

But there ain’t no coin
There ain’t no coin
There ain’t no coin
To drop
But there ain’t no coin
There ain’t no coin
There ain’t no coin
For the slot

Soon

Another lyric for your enjoyment.

Rigor mortis is setting in
When it does I’ll be stiff as a board
Just another corpus delicti
Part of a great skeleton hoard

Crossing over the River Styx
On I go to another side
Hoping to be one of the picks
Through the Pearly Gates to reside

Soon I’ll be in the grave or bust
Soon I’ll be ashes and rust
Soon I’ll be nothing but dust
Soon I’ll be part of the crust

I’ve done my share of roaming
I’ve got trav’ling shoes to prove it
Picked up a bit of sea and sand
Been to the sunrise and in the pits

Took on the valleys and mountains
Over rainbows and under bridges
Never sure where I was bounding
When I made my jump off the edges

Soon I’ll be in the grave or bust
Soon I’ll be ashes and rust
Soon I’ll be nothing but dust
Soon I’ll be part of the crust

Uncle Bardie’s Weekly Music Pick: At Last

It’s Thursday again. You know what that means. Uncle Bardie’s Weekly Music Pick. Uncle Bardiie gives a double thumbs up to this week’s selection: “At Last” by Etta James.

In the fifties and early sixties, an amazing group of female singers emerged to give American audiences some of the best vocals ever heard in the history of popular music. These included Brenda Lee, Connie Francis, Della Reese, Julie London, Sarah Vaughan, and Abby Lincoln.

Of this group, I have especially taken a hankering to the music of Dinah Washington, Patsy Cline and Etta James. It wasn’t just that they had great voices. It was as if they were reaching down deep into their souls and pulling up all the pain they had and pouring it out for the world to hear. That pouring out has a name. It’s called the Blues.

Some artists can take all their feelings and make them into great art. These three do that. When I hear their music, it makes me realize that I am not alone in feeling what I am feeling. I can experience deeply what they are feeling.

Etta’s “At Last” is a pure gem. Oh my, Etta can sing. With this one, she makes love all her own. It’s not just love. It’s Love with a capital L. And she’s giving everything to it. This is High Art. This is Van Gogh painting the starry night. This is Richard Burton doing the “To be or not to be” soliloquy. This is Martha Graham dancing “Lamentation”. This is Elizabeth Bishop making poems.

To get caught up in this song is to let yourself go and feel something human.  Very little allows us to do that these days. Mostly we are given doses of plastic that cut us off from our fellow human beings. Then we hear Etta James or Patsy Cline or Dinah Washington and we suddenly are busting out of our cocoons. We have heard something true.