Dance Around

Come take my hand dear

let’s dance around in circles

with posies and ashes

let’s not get lost in hesitation

or lost in lies

the clever tales we tell ourselves

I can’t see the forest for the trees

or the future for such things


Love Songs

I long to feel the sun on my face,
the wind in my hair and you in my arms

to hear right shiny jangly love songs
Like a Rickenbacker through a Twin Reverb on 11

and in a world of despair and desolation

I can sing a love song

The Song Remains the Same

You know,  a lot has been written about Led Zeppelin and the desire for the band to reunite for a tour and maybe an album.

I now realize why this is never going to happen, and that it shouldn’t.

The other night CBS broadcast the Kennedy Center Honors Award Show.  I recorded it and was watching it today.  I was especially interested in the Led Zep tribute.

The Foo Fighters, Kid Rock, Lenny Kravitz and Heart performed songs in tribute to the mighty Led Zeppelin, whose surviving three members sat in the Kennedy Center opera house a few seats down from the President.

When I saw that Heart’s rendition caused Robert Plant to tear up I knew there would never be a reunion.  Like a god surveying his creation – it was good.  The torch was passed, in reality it had been passed almost a generation ago.

While fans have been pining for a proper reunion almost since John Bonham died in 1980, the only time the band has actually reunited was in 2007 at a tribute concert for Ahmet Ertegun.  I don’t count Live Aid.  Twenty million online ticket requests were made online for this one off show.  One of those requests was mine.

Pete Townshend was reportedly scheduled to perform as a supporting act, but he pulled out when he heard Led Zeppelin was performing, saying, “They really don’t need me.”

Watch them play Kashmir from the Celebration Day movie recorded at what became known as the O2 concert.

Here you see the band in prime form, maybe even better than in the glory days.  Maturity and sobriety can do wonderful things.

When I saw Led Zeppelin in 1980, Jimmy Page was still battling a reported heroin addiction and was frail.  He certainly looks strong and clear eyed here.

Plant stalks the stage, bellows, wails and roars and gives a clinic to frontmen and women half his age – he makes me think of Odin from the Avengers movie.  Although, Sir Anthony Hopkins didn’t strut quite like this.

Jack Black declared the band, “the greatest rock and roll band of all time, better than the Beatles, better than the Stones…”

We can argue that, but Pete Townshend might be inclined to agree.

So you see, the release of Celebration Day is more than a perfect coda to their career, it is an epitaph written in their own hands. “This is how we will be remembered, and remembered we will be.” The once and eternally Mighty Led Zeppelin.

They truly are Golden Gods, but they are the Old Gods.

Through the fog of time.

I’ve been having this almost irresistible craving for raw oysters on the half shell lately.  I’ve been able to resist this temptation mainly because I’m not real comfy with grocery store oysters and going out for oysters alone just seems sad.

But, there’s another reason I’ve passed on this great delicacy.  The feasting on oysters has been forever tied in my mind to a very select, very special group of friends.  Yeah, yeah – I know…

A couple of years ago, Jeff and Tina took me out to lunch on my birthday.  We went to some little divey oyster bar in or near Orlando.  The oysters where fine and the beer kind of sad.  Coronas, I think.  We did our damage, to both the oysters and the beers.  It was an amazing no frills feast and I cherish the memory.

Last summer a number of friends had gathered in Seattle.  One afternoon, a small subset of the group ended up at a place down on the water.  Elliott’s I think it was called.  It was quite a bit fancier than the joint in Florida, and the beer selection was pretty nice.  We had a nice sampling of some of the finer varieties of Pacific Northwest oysters.  The place was crowded and we jammed in at the bar together, eating of off one another’s plates and sharing sips of drinks.  I think someone even ordered tequila.  It was the kind of brief experience that you might think only exists in literature or film.  It was perfectly scripted.

Lest you think we became oyster snobs in Seattle, the day before a couple of us found a little dive oyster bar in the Pike Place Market.  Greasy Eddies or something like that.  The oysters were great and the beers cold.

I may be remembering things more fondly than how they actually occurred.  I just might.  As I’ve discussed before, memory appears to be very maleable.  I may be guilty of selective editing.  I care not.  These memories, and the people in them are precious to me.

So, no oysters for me until I can share them again with one or more of these great friends; Jeff, Tina, James, Murray Lou or Laura.

However – and there’s alway a however, these terms and conditions are subject to change.  But you all will certainly be present in spirit, if nothing else.  Cheers!