Boston Jack Vaughan's Personal Ruminations on the Arts & Sciences
The Bold Stumps - Live at George's Tavern - Perfect Everytime
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Four square and fair years ago ...
Aug 8 2018 - The Bold Stumps returned to entertain a Packed (Square and Fair) house at George's Tavern in Racine Wisconsin. Jim Haas, Bob Stepien, Mike Brusha, John Ruetz, Jeff and Paul DeMark and I at George's - on Main St just one block north of the bridge, down the hill from St Patrick’s and one block west of the old coast guard station not too far from the water works, the yacht club and the former home of Walker Muffler near the Eagles Club and close to where the guys used to go smelt fishing as well as about 6 or so blocks south of Lakeview recreation park and the zoo.
We kicked off with Packed Fair and Square. Which we knew from J. Geils. The band was influential to us back in the day, as it was symetrically counter to prevailing wins at the time (long solos and jams). We also did Homework on this evening... actually as the formal set closer.
Recently picked up on Big Walter Price's original, thanks to old pal Nicke Rudelich. I'd heard it before, I guess on Eddie Gorderesky show, but thought it was Big Joe Turner. Well we did our attempt here - it was not a show stopper, but it was a show starter! A splendid time. - Jack
How many beautiful bodies/can Dylan garner a night --/ 50 - 100? How many can James Dickey garner'/two - or three?/How do all the girls with beautiful bodies /who get aced out, for dickey or dylan feel? - Poetry & Beautiful Bodies (1970) Came to learn from Dave Murray recently that great Milwaukee poet Bob Watt died. It happened in January. It was old news to many, but it was new news to me. This set the mind neuros to popping. I think I’m going back to the time when Bob Watts’ poetry first blew my mind. I remember when I first heard Bob Watts poetry: it was sudden and familiar. Music of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, the Midwest. Most importantly it said that poetry was right here, where we were. Not far. Moreover it did not have to wear a sportscoat. One with leather elbow patches. Watt was an exterminator. On the outskirts. His obit tells us he was in the service in Japan. That gave him a jump on Zen, maybe. In a local night club, a girl got drunk/ And yelled, “I...
Jeff Hull came by recently to check Jake’s portfolio. And we kind of looked at some of Jeff's own more recent stuff together. Which is on the Web via some shows he’s had in recent years. Now I am stuck as anyone reading this will agree with words. Which provide a poor translation of what goes on in true visual art. Here goes. Jeff Hull’s paintings transcend a life time; they cut through blue paradises of art think and explode, exotic, rich and watery. The ordinary world is here, and is seen in a universe of visual indications. Cells of modern mind float on the canvas, and one painting enters another. Images flop along side stones emanating molecular progressions. Color is all over the place, and you are on a magical ride. This art is feedback music in the domain of the eyeball. The sky, the ferns the beat. I see stories. I apply cut-up technique. The stuff pops up at you in spectral neural displays. Jeff’s objects comet forth. You attach what you bring. Ferns, boobs, dripped...
First heard the Paul Butterfield blues band early in the summer of love 1967. We lent the record among our crew. For us they were something of a sleeper among the tremendous abundance of creative bands at the time. Certainly different in that they were closer to the roots of street expression - more so than some of the crimson and chiffon butterfly "psychedelicists" that were about. That year I caught on to Taj Mahal, Canned Heat, the Dirty Blues Band and the Butterfield Blues Band, whose lead guitar player, Mike Bloomfield, was a very big notch above anyone else on an instrument that was coming to define the era. He was the first rock guitar hero, ahead of Eric Clapton and Jimi Hendrix, and held the mantle, Mickey, at least for a while. When I re-imagined Black Orpheus ( itself a reimagining of Orpheus in the underground) I imagined Mike Bloomfield as the Pan-like protagonist, probably having learned by then that his guitar was the transcendental and evocative...
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