Let all the Bulldog faithful rally behind the men who now wear the red and black with two words, two simple words which express the sentiments of the entire Bulldog Nation: Auburn Sucks.
In the rash of recent recruiting decommitments I suddenly had lyrics from the Pixies pop into my head:
While very pop and somewhat sing-songy compared to other Pixies cuts, the song actually has a pretty dark meaning, when you consider the background of the song:
In 1989, Thompson told NME, “It’s about winos and hobos traveling on the trains, who die in the California Earthquake, peeing their pants. Before earthquakes, everything gets very calm—animals stop talking and, birds stop chirping, and there’s no wind. It’s very ominous. I’ve been through a few earthquakes, actually, ’cause I grew up in California. I was only in one big one, in 1971. I was very young, and I slept through it. I’ve been awake through lots of small ones at school and at home. It’s very exciting actually—a very comical thing. It’s like the earth is shaking, and what can you do? Nothing.”
Here comes your man Here comes your man Here comes your man Big shake on the box car moving Big shake to the land that’s falling down Is a wind makes a palm stop blowing A big, big stone fall and break my crown
Additionally, the band hated it and rejected the song from its inception, requesting it be left off of albums which later was included with a change in their production agency in 1989. This would likely explain why it appears the lead singer is not singing at all in the video. When Arsenio Hall requested the band to make a live appearance and play the song on his show, they agreed to appear only if they could sing something else. Hall declined the invitation at that point.
Come to think of it, this song could rightly represent the state of recruiting as we know it – a foreshadowing of the downfall of something through a seismic rift in the world of college football. I just wonder if the birds are quiet now because they’re sensing doom, or because it’s about to happen down the road.
If you were in Athens in the late 90’s, you had the opportunity to attend one of the many unique experiences that I can say only Athens, Georgia can afford: Panic in the Streets. The audio quality on a cover of Vic Chesnutt’s Aunt Avis (from his appropriately titled album, Drunk) here isn’t necessarily great (a little better here), but the interviews at the beginning captures what feels like peak late 90s Athens from my fuzzy memories of the day:
From the Rory Cochrane-like guy who leads off the interviews to the father, Rick, who is leisurely waiting for the concert and reading a paper while the “kids” he brought are no doubt exploring the physical and chemical entertainment of Athens on the day, it’s pretty much what one would expect. Someone asks the Polish sausage vendor if people had the munchies. Yes, yes they did.
In case you’re not familiar with the band, we’re listening to another Athens institution who achieved Grateful Dead-like fame and following with the same blend of jam-based music. From the band’s website:
Widespread Panic has been together over three decades. Formed by vocalist/guitarist John Bell, bassist Dave Schools and late lead guitarist Michael Houser in the mid-1980s while the three attended the University of Georgia, over the next several years band’s lineup expanded to include drummer Todd Nance, percussionist Domingo Ortiz, and keyboardist John Hermann. The current lineup now includes lead guitarist Jimmy Herring and drummer Duane Trucks.
Attaining true road warrior status, Widespread Panic has broken attendance records across the country, including a staggering 60 consecutive sell-outs at legendary Red Rocks Amphitheatre, 18 sell outs at State Farm Arena in Atlanta, additional records in the UNO Lakefront Arena in New Orleans, Birmingham’s Oak Mountain Amphitheater, New Orleans Jazzfest and The Fox Theatre in Atlanta. Panic has headlined most of the major U.S. festivals including Bonnaroo (eight times), Lollapalooza, ACL Festival, LOCKN’, Outside Lands, Forecastle to name just a few.
Over the past 30 years, Widespread Panic has sold over 3 million albums, 4 million downloads. Twelve years ago the band opened its vault and began to release live recordings through its Archive series of releases, spotlighting exceptional shows spanning the band’s entire career. In 2008 was inducted into the Georgia Music Hall of Fame and continues to sell out shows across the country.
The bars were open early, and me and my buddies started the day at Washington Street Tavern, lounging in the darkened basement having some beers and getting the distinct impression that we were getting way too buzzed too early for a non-game day, so we came out of the basement only to be met with the blinding light of the day and a crowd that spanned the entire length of Washington Street, well in advance of the start of the concert.
It was surreal. We continued to hang at Washington Street Tavern for the day, but far, far down the street we could see the stage, which eventually illuminated in the waning sun of the day, and the chords of slow jamming resonated up and down the way for the rest of the evening. Aside from the Twilight Criterium and, of course, game days in Athens, it stands as one of my top Athens experiences to this day.
Curious if any of you Refugees were in attendance…more so if any of you can remember much about it!
In honor of Refugees hitting 100,000 views yesterday, here’s a slow and low song from Kings of Leon:
Thanks to all of our loyal followers, contributors, and especially the commenters. It’s been a pleasure keeping the spirit alive, and here’s to keeping it going for a millions more.
In light of the recent announcement of a noon start to the 2024 campaign, I bring you a little diddy from Peter Noone, better known as the front man of Herman’s Hermits.
While the song sounds like a little bit of sour grapes about the noon start, take solace, because there’s this little tidbit, shared on Twix:
Under the new SEC TV contract, every team is guaranteed no more than 2 Noon games at home every season
This week’s Musical Palate Cleanser is a quick reminder – you can still order from Amazon and have something here or there by Sunday.
It’s Mother’s Day this Sunday, and in searching for something to post for this, to be honest, the choices were kind of limited to hip-hop or depressing, so I’ll go with one that’s close to me:
Yeah, the song is depressing enough. If you know much about Lennon, his dad left him when he was young and his mother, Julia, was killed in an auto accident with an off-duty police officer when he was 17. To make it more depressing, he had a relationship with his mother, but didn’t live with her most of his life.
Mother was a single released from his 1970’s venture with wife, Ono, known as the John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band. It was the A side, with the B side being something from Yoko, which might as well have been titled “Who Gives a Shit”. John had just come out of four months of primal therapy, attempting to repair trauma from his childhood, and this was the result.
I post it here not to depress anyone, which it certainly can, but I recall this song with fond childhood memories. My parents are both former history teachers, both UGA grads, and between summers in Athens and trips with them to cultural festivals around Atlanta (the Greek Festival was the best), they both did a great job opening up the world to me as best you could on a teacher’s budget.
Our split level, 1970’s home, had a downstairs where we would spend evenings listening to various albums, everything from my mom’s preference of The Beatles and ABBA to my dad’s of Meat Loaf and comedy albums. There wasn’t a lot of censorship, as they let me listen to Steve Martin, Richard Pryor, and Eddie Murphy. Needless to say, I had a young exposure to diverse language and material from an early age, which included letting me listen to some of the divergent music, like “Mother”, which I heard on Lennon’s compilation of the Plastic experiment album, Shaved Fish.
I often tell people I’m a blend of them both…my dad was a professional cusser, and my mom was a professional crier. You can only imagine what watching Georgia games was like when I was young. Actually, it’s still the same today. Etched in my brain is Georgia’s loss to Pitt and f*cking Dan Marino, hearing “We are the Champions” played at the end, and bawling my eyes out in the kitchen afterwards. Pretty sure a rich chorus of profanity was also in there somewhere, but I was too despondent to hear it.
As time went on, we had opportunity and finances to travel, where they both carefully ensured I had a worldview and context of life outside of myself and outside of Jonesboro, Georgia. They both have their talents, but mom was always the wordsmith, and helped me learn how to write, my dad helped me to do it with humor and flair. Dad was the story teller, mom was the copywriter.
To be clear, the Bulldawg passion comes from mom. Dad has a passion, as well, but mom is the persistent optimist and will watch the whole thing through. Dad will see the first opponent score and promptly lace a few profanities and go reload bullets. I knew Richt was cooked when mom informed me she had turned the 2015 Alabama game off and had quit watching. She never does that, and that was the apex of hopelessness in her game watching career.
She carried me back and forth from lessons on the saxophone and encouraged my musical talents. She was always involved in the boosters or support groups and she was likewise dedicated to her students, fellow teachers, and eventually the staff she supervised and lead until she retired years ago. She taught me how to lead with humility, and also when it was time to appropriately get massively pissed off and defend the things true to you, as evidenced by the time she gave me a good, crisp slap on the face when I came home drunk in my college days (I was driving, and I deserved that, to be sure).
Above all else, she helped to show me the experiences of a charmed and well-informed life, how to think, how to navigate my initial years in my own career in education, and how to get back up when life kicks you down. She was one-half of a dynamic duo that created me, and I’m forever grateful for my mom.
Here’s to moms everywhere…here or gone, I hope your memories are as fond as mine.
I’m developing a theme here. Looking to expand MPC to a daily thing (much to muckbeast’s chagrin). I’m currently centering it around birthdays. Also looking to include dates of significant album releases, career milestones, etc. If there’s a notable death, we’ll jump off the regular track and pay homage as needed. So, today, we have a couple of birthdays of note.
As we get closer to a month since we lost our beloved Senator (the only beloved Senator ever?), it’s dawned on me that this whole Refugees thing might be real. So, I says to myself, I says, self! You might want to start getting serious about some of this writing. And, as I’ve already said in the comments, Musical Palate Cleanser is mine. So, all you volunteers, find another niche! lol
