Levee Town Mints a Rock Classic

Review of Levee Town, Trying to Keep My Head Above Water

Normally I prefer my guitars fat and dirty in tone, growling rather than chirping, pushed to the edge of feedback before being reeled back in from chaos, but always, always bathed in the warm, the sweetly melodic. Chuck Berry instead of Chet Atkins. Albert King instead of B.B. King, though I love them both. Nor do I mean shredding just for the sake of taking fingers through their calisthenics. Always listening for the musical idea—melody the wave everyone can ride. One ear attuned to the heart’s grounding beat.

Brandon Hudspeth appears to be one such player. No slouch in technical dexterity, but more interested in fully drawing the soul out of his notes and phrases. He uses a Gretsch White Falcon with its signature gold-dust pick guard and gold foil eagle silhouette. “It has a fat sparkly sound that can’t be achieved with any other instrument,” says Hudspeth. You can really hear the pristine tones this guitar is capable of in the surf punk of Levee Town’s tribute to the legendary filmmaker in “Tarantino.” Levee Town has been together since 2002 and makes its home in Kansas City, a historic locus of great blues and Americana music.

Brandon Hudspeth & White Falcon

Brandon Hudspeth with his Gretsch White Falcon, which he finds gives him an unmatched “fat, sparkly tone.” Photo Adam Hagerman.

But what I really love about this album is that, for someone that has obviously suffered from the isolation of lockdowns (like the rest of us), none of the music on this album is somber or downbeat. To the contrary, it rocks like 1972! There’s no self-conscious attempt at an anthem here, yet the lyrics are sometimes brutally frank, as they ought to be in the face of what has been described as the greatest peacetime policy failure in history. Levee Town bolts out of the gate with “The Music Martyr,” a pedal-to-the-metal rock number that dares you to keep up, its signature refrain, “Trying to keep my head above water,” a feeling millions could relate to during the past two years. “Locked Up For Days” packs a similar punch both musically and lyrically, expressing for so many of us the angst and agony of lockdowns. “Weight of the World” completes the Covid Age trilogy of songs with a plaintive ballad to all the people we’ve lost, using the White Falcon to great effect with a stripped-down, heavy reverb tone.

The song list is produced intelligently, with enough attention to a variety of styles to recapture the listener’s attention with each new song. I asked Hudspeth what motivated this musical diversity on the album: “I’ve always loved all kinds of roots music so I wanted to make an album that had some zydeco, west coast blues, rock ‘n’ roll, blues rock, and even surf influences. I love everything from Freddie King to the Ventures so I wanted to present an album that covered a lot of ground.” Hudspeth’s dexterity and fluency with traditional blues is evident on the Little Milton cover “Lookin’ For My Baby,” and the more hybrid blues-rock grind of “She Might Kill You.” “Outside Child” shifts to a big band jazz romp, minus the horns, with Hudspeth taking a brisk walk around the fretboard á la Chet Atkins or Les Paul. The only other cover tune on the album, Freddie King’s “The Stumble,” is done as a mid-tempo romp, demonstrating Hudspeth’s skill and expressiveness as a soloist.

Hudspeth composes the band’s original numbers and cites an eclectic array of musical influences: “I’m from Oklahoma originally but I’ve always been a fan of Jay McShann, Joe Turner, Count Basie, and Charlie Parker, to name a few. Those musicians and Kansas City swing in general will always be a part of my music. The music that has come out of Kansas City over the years is very unique and swings differently than music from other geographics.”

Levee Town band photo 1

Levee Town: Jacque Garoutte, Adam Hagerman and Brandon Hudspeth. Photo by Adam Hagerman courtesy of the band.

The rhythm section is first rate, holding down a fat bottom end so Hudspeth can soar into the stratosphere with his White Falcon. Bass player Jacque Garoutte and drummer Adam Hagerman are of more wise years, meaning more time locked in the groove, and that always shows. Like John Lennon said, “you’re the white line.” If you’ve got a great rhythm section you’re already more than halfway there. As Hudspeth explains: “I had an idea to start a band with my roommates basically. We started as a four-piece which was guitars, bass, drums, and harp. Jacque Garoutte and I have been together from the beginning. Our original drummer passed away from cancer and our harp player needed to inject himself into a more consistent way of life. Jacque and Adam Hagerman had been playing together for years before Jacque and I met. They both come up in the same area and toured together supporting different acts.”

As I’ve grown older I’ve learned to better appreciate both drummers and great rhythm players like U2’s Edge, learned to listen for the distinctive ‘shapes’ of tone. This ability to sculpt tones in a multitude of ways is what has made the electric guitar such an indispensable contribution to the world of music. It’s all “cadence and cascade,” as King Crimson might say, opening up endless possibilities. Hudspeth makes the most of his unique-looking instrument; he has a delightful originality to his phrases, a what’s-old-is-new-again freshness. Trying to Keep My Head Above Water reveals a roaming musical curiosity, a refusal to be pinned down—like Hudspeth’s Falcon—unfettered, free to roam the skies.

The production is first-rate throughout, the digital sound more approximating the warmth of analog. The fact that there are only nine tracks is actually a strength in this era when too many bands fall prey to the “more is better” temptation, cramming albums with substandard numbers or alternate takes that should have been left in the can. This was the great strength of the vinyl analog record—its physical limitations forced bands to trim off the fat and only release their strongest material. Too many classic albums have been ruined by re-issues larded up with the dross that was (rightly) rejected in the original sessions. By contrast, Levee Town and Brandon Hudspeth have created a tight, powerful lineup of songs that never gets boring for a second—not a wasted track in sight. In fact, I dare you to put on Trying to Keep My Head Above Water and stay seated—these tunes make your feet positively itch to dance.

And dancing is something we all could use a lot more of post-Covid!

Visit the band’s website and waste no time picking up this instant classic: https://www.leveetown.com

Posted in blues, COVID-19 lockdowns, Music | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Joyce Celebrates Release of Words from the Dead

I’m proud to announce the publication of my tenth book, Words from the Dead: Relevant Readings in the Covid Age, published by Ekstasis Editions of Victoria, BC Canada.[1] My body of published work now includes poetry, a novel, Western Canadian history, and this latest book, a collection of essays.[2] My method in Words from the Dead is to analyze the Covid Age through great works of literature, poetry and history, using them as a lens through which to focus critical thinking. Art is far more than mere entertainment, or some enjoyable but unnecessary frill. Even popular culture such as songs and movies—to the extent it relies on the great themes of art—can be a source of deep meaning. History itself began from the storytelling impulse, the basis of narrative. The greatest historians, in my view, are those that instruct us in the principle of pattern recognition over vast spans of time and human behaviour. Essays are simply a more direct way of critically addressing the stories we tell each other in a culture. And it’s clear that now more than ever, the narratives we hear in the media are in need of challenging. I preface the book with several quotes, among them one from investigative journalist Eva Bartlett, who said that “the media exists to sell narratives, not to tell the truth.”

I certainly debunk the scientific and social fallacies at work during Covid lockdowns, supported by more than 600 footnotes and references from credible sources. But rather than merely telling readers what to think, the goal is to teach the basics of critical thinking and Socratic reasoning. The intellectual principle is based on the familiar adage: “If you give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. If you teach him how to fish, you feed him for a lifetime.”

Words from the Dead cover

Words from the Dead cover from Ekstasis Editions (2022)

Artists and writers often seem to have a direct line to what Carl Jung called the “collective unconscious,” or what others have dubbed the “zeitgeist” of a civilization, meaning roughly “the spirit of the age.” In that respect they fulfill what Beat poet Allen Ginsberg called the “vatic” role as seers and thus fit into a continuity with religious mystics and prophets over the centuries. Not that writers necessarily have the capacity to predict specific events, but rather, they have an intuitive grasp of human nature and the ability to synthesize a wide-ranging array of information into a coherent whole. As I argue in my essay “Apocalypso,” which examines the symbolism in the Bible book of Revelation, the apostle John was essentially filling this role. His fine-grained and at times hallucinogenic visions could apply to almost any period of social collapse. As Jung would argue, he like most poets is speaking in archetypes, not specific political details. This frees us from having to debate whether such Bibical passages are “true” or not and benefit by their insights into broad principles of human existence. The same could be said of almost any work of literature.

Words from the Dead counters the recent (and shallow) conceit that we have nothing to learn from the so-called “dead white males” of literary history. Literary critic and scholar Harold Bloom was saw this political agenda coming way back in the early 1990s when he published his book The Western Canon. “Pragmatically, the ‘expansion of the Canon’ has meant the destruction of the Canon, since what is being taught includes by no means the best writers… but rather the writers who offer little but the resentment they have developed as part of their sense of identity.”[3] Even some academics are growing tired of this rhetoric, for example Roosevelt Montás, a senior lecturer in American studies and English at Columbia University and the daughter of immigrants from the Dominican Republic. She writes of her liberal education fostering a sensitivity to “a culturally influential critique of ‘the canon’ that insists that Homer, Sophocles, Plato, Montaigne, Cervantes, Goethe, Hegel, Dostoyevsky, Woolf, et al, are not for people like me, that they are for white people, or rich people, or people born with class privileges that I lacked.”[4] Yet she recalls the seminal moment that crystallized her desire to become a literary scholar—when she discovered Socrates: “I did not need to be rich, privileged or cultured to find in those words something that spoke to the deepest sense of my own being. And I did not need to be white or European to be startled by the claim that ‘the unexamined life is not worth living’.” As Bloom writes, “history is more than the history of class struggle, or of racial oppression, or of gender tyranny.”[5] As Montás discovered to her delight, what makes some works of literature and art perpetual is their capacity to speak to people everywhere in the most profound terms. Art is a mirror we hold up to ourselves and society, the “examined life” Socrates urged that reveals new dimensions to our existence in this world. As far as I’m concerned, the best art has no gender, no race, no nationality.

Words from the Dead provides a critical analysis of our times that draws on a reading list of nearly 50 books, spanning a historical timeline from the 5th century BC to the present. From the ancient Taoist sages Lao Tzu and Chuang Tzu, through the writers of immortal literature, to more recent critical commentators such as Karl Popper, Arnold Toynbee, John Ralston Saul and Michael Rectenwald, Words From the Dead digs deep for its perspectives. From the 1872 utopian novel Erewhon (“nowhere” spelled backwards) by Samuel Butler to the pop culture genius of the classic 1960s TV series The Prisoner, the hit series Star Trek: The Next Generation, and the socially incisive lyrics of British folk-rock songwriter Roy Harper, this book explores the common threads that unite great art in many of its forms. As Professor Emeritus of English Literature Roger C. Lewis wrote in his review of my poetry collection Diary of a Pandemic Year, “against this imagery of apocalyptic punishment… the poet sets over a mythical construct of what Northrop Frye called ‘the assumption of total coherence…’”[6]

As an essayist I’m following in the tradition of great writers such as Montaigne, George Orwell and Aldous Huxley. Orwell and Huxley have been lifelong inspirations for my own writing and I’ve read almost everything they ever wrote. These essayists didn’t necessarily see themselves as experts but as insatiably curious intellects using the Socratic method to explore anything that interested them. “From the start I resonated with the original concept of the essay, from the French ‘assai,’ to try,” I write in the Preface. “For me the open-ended form of the essay inspired a creative optimism, a confidence I could at least become conversant in the language. It left me free to play in the field of ideas.” Most importantly, Words From the Dead helps the reader cultivate a facility for pattern recognition based on the precedents of history and literature. That is my hope for this book, to bring consolation, critical thinking and clarity to readers devastated in their various ways by the Covid Age.

Sean Arthur Joyce lo-res

Sean Arthur Joyce 2016. Photo Anne Champagne

Acknowledgements

I wish to express my deepest gratitude to Anne Champagne, whose meticulous copy editing and astute observations have saved me from folly time and time again. Thanks are due Roger Lewis for reading the manuscript with a critical eye; and to Ekstasis Editions publisher Richard Olafson, for his enthusiasm and support for these essays. I also wish to thank my father, whose love of books and history set the mold for me from a young age.

Ordering the Book

Although the book can be ordered through Amazon, at present we have limited stock there, and prefer that buyers instead support either small bookstores or the publisher. Copies can be ordered directly from Ekstasis Editions. Most bookstores are willing to special order books for customers.

[1] Publisher’s website: http://www.ekstasiseditions.com/recenthtml/wordsfromthedead.htm

[2] My author website provides details on these books: https://www.seanarthurjoyce.ca/

[3] Harold Bloom, The Western Canon, Harcourt, Brace & Co., New York, 1994, p. 7.

[4] Roosevelt Montás, “Great Books Are Still Great,” Aeon, https://aeon.co/essays/why-the-great-books-still-speak-for-themselves-and-for-us?utm_source=Aeon+Newsletter&utm_campaign=3797b96215-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2022_01_17_11_14&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_411a82e59d-3797b96215-70470777

[5] Harold Bloom, The Western Canon, Harcourt, Brace & Co., New York, 1994, p. 283.

[6] Roger C. Lewis, “Dandelions through the asphalt,” review of Diary of a Pandemic Year by Sean Arthur Joyce, Ormsby Review of Books, July 9, 2021: https://thebcreview.ca/2021/07/09/1173-lewis-joyce-pandemic/

Posted in Books, Coronavirus, COVID-19 lockdowns, Democracy, Political Commentary, social commentary | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Where Have All the Rebels Gone? Indeed

A Review of Van Morrison’s Latest Record Project Vol. 1

INTRODUCTION:

This review combines an excerpt from my new book, Words from the Dead: Relevant Readings in the Covid Age [1] and more recent writing. The excerpted portions (set in quotation marks) are from my essay “All You Need to Know About Civilization” in that book, which is primarily about the work of British folk/rock songwriter Roy Harper. I hope to tantalize readers into exploring Harper’s amazing body of work over the past 50 years. As the opening line reads:

“All you need to know about civilization is found in the lyrics to Roy Harper’s epic song “The Game” (parts 1–5).[2] While Arnold Toynbee’s magisterial A Study of History provides probably the most exhaustive overview of history ever printed in 12 volumes, Harper—working within the limitations of the popular song—manages to do so in just over 600 words (and 14 minutes). That’s no small accomplishment. “The rules are set to paradox, coercion and blind faith” sums up the typical modus operandi of most civilizations with the conciseness and clarity of a haiku.”[3] Harper’s lyric fits hand-in-glove the authoritarianism of the Covid Age.

Roy Harper Royal Festival Hall

Roy Harper performing at Britain’s Royal Festival Hall in 2013.

And although I include a reference to Van Morrison’s new album, Latest Record Project Vol. 1, in the essay, I felt it was time to give more space to a consideration of this record. As with so much else during this era, artists are no longer judged on the intrinsic merit of their work but their racial, political and sexual identity. So it was unsurprising, if unfair, that Morrison’s album received one of the lowest ratings of his entire body of work on the online music resource AllMusic. I only regret that under the pressure of circumstances and stress it has taken me this long to finally publish something about this amazing new set of Morrison songs.

Where Have All the Rebels Gone? Indeed

Latest Record Project Vol. 1First, two things: 1) Morrison is at the height of his musical powers on Latest Record Project; and, 2) This is a very political record. “Music with a political message—like political poetry—isn’t for everyone. Both art forms have a tendency to divide audiences—they either love it or hate it. Granted, in music as in all art, it’s difficult to walk the fine line between aesthetic and polemic. ‘Protest songs’ and poetry, if not handled with great skill, quickly become dated, no longer relevant.”[4] A good example of that would be Neil Young’s 2006 album Living With War, a protest album against the George W. Bush administration and its war with Iraq. Although tightly produced and performed, musically it’s indistinguishable from any number of Neil Young and Crazy Horse recordings. From a writing perspective, there’s always the danger of being too specific to time and place. This is why some of the world’s most memorable poems often speak in broad, universal themes or archetypes, poems like Rudyard Kipling’s perennially popular “If.” As I’ve always argued, for these reasons, it takes more skill to write a successful political poem than almost any other poetic form.

“But that only makes it all the greater an achievement when an artist succeeds. In fact, art has a long and honourable history of confronting the politics of the day. In music this began with the folk music tradition and the field chants of Black slaves—the origins of the Blues—which had to be written using carefully cloaked metaphors so as to avoid the wrath of ‘the Man.’ (White plantation owners.) And have we forgotten how many of the classic rock tunes of the ’60s were political? “For What It’s Worth,” by Buffalo Springfield. Sam Cooke’s “A Change is Gonna Come.” Bob Dylan’s “Masters of War” and “Only a Pawn in Their Game.” Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Fortunate Son,” which has stood the test of time long past the expiry of the Vietnam War it satirizes. As John Fogerty realized, it’s always the poor who are drafted as cannon fodder. Some themes are perennial.”[5]

After a career spanning more than 50 years, you’d think an artist might be tapped out when it comes to fresh new ideas that just happen to sound timeless, as many of Morrison’s new songs do on this album. In fact, most artists of that duration find themselves in their late career years resorting to cover albums, artist tributes, a string of live albums, official bootleg and archival releases, or multiple “Best Of” compilations. Even Bob Dylan suffered from this lapse of originality. Fair enough—few artists in a long career can avoid fallow periods. Some of Morrison’s output during the 21st century has included these diversions but there has still been a substantial, regular amount of new material. And while many legacy artists find the years mounting up between releases as they age, Morrison has kept to a new album every couple of years, sometimes every year.

What’s impressive is the sheer scope of Van Morrison’s new record—a double album—and how many of the songs have the feeling of being instant classics. Songs like “My Time After Awhile,” “Thank God for the Blues,” “Up County Down,” and “Blue Funk” had me searching for writing credits, assuming that these had to be covers of older songs. But they are all Morrison originals. In fact, of the 28 songs on Latest Record Project, only two are co-written with other songwriters and only one, “It Hurts Me Too,” is a cover of a traditional song! Morrison is among the select few in popular music who have access to a seemingly limitless fount of creativity and original ideas—artists like The Beatles, Dylan, Young and—I would add—Roy Harper. Most musicians are lucky if they can mint a trio of masterpiece albums. Some get as many as half a dozen. But not many.

Which is what makes a double album of truly strong original material this late in Morrison’s career doubly impressive. (Pardon the pun.) As I write in Words from the Dead: “Double albums in the history of popular music have always been risky; very few have no throwaway numbers, even The BeatlesWhite Album.” (Did we really need “Why Don’t We Do It In The Road” and “Revolution #9”?) “Still, it’s ridiculous to expect an artist caught up in the chaos of the Covid Age to say nothing about it at all, unless they’re asleep at the wheel. I for one am grateful that an artist of Morrison’s talent and unquestioned stature in music hasn’t succumbed to lyrical vacuousness in his old age. (Dylan too has kept himself relevant with the Harper-esque epic, “Murder Most Foul.”) By taking on the burning issues of the day—one of the greatest crises since World War II—Morrison shows that he is an engaged, thoughtful, intelligent artist with pertinent observations to offer. And musically Morrison is adept as ever—there’s no sense at all of an artist just going through the motions. Songs like “Where Have All the Rebels Gone”[6] have the potential to become instant classics, the album a landmark of the Covid Age, despite mainstream media’s unwillingness to engage with it on its own terms.”[7]

Van Morrison currentAny history of literature will reveal that artists are often in dialogue and even dispute, both with each other and with the spirit of their age. The contrast is stark between this era of oh-so-polite reviews, or marketing blurbs passing as reviews, and the past directness and at times aggressiveness of authors’ observations of one another’s work. I’m not arguing for the kind of mindless character assassination that goes on in social media, although past literary criticism occasionally reached that low level. For example, T.S. Eliot’s comment that novelist Henry James “had a mind so fine that no idea could violate it.”[8] In that regard Morrison on Latest Record Project is simply carrying this tradition forward in a popular music format. Given the deafening silence of artists and intellectuals around the world in response to the gross violations of civil rights during Covid lockdowns, Morrison is right to ask on “Where Have All the Rebels Gone”: “Were they really all that tough? Or was it just a PR stunt… Where have all the rebels gone? It’s not very rock ‘n’ roll…” Rock music used to be the genre of the rebel, the iconoclast, who, being an outsider, had a unique perspective on society. Thanks to the immense wealth generated by the music industry, artists have now become mostly insiders, not outsiders. And great innovations seldom come from the belly of the beast; they arise from the margins.

On songs like “Diabolic Pressure,” “Double Agent,” “Double Bind,” “Breaking the Spell,” “Duper’s Delight,” “Stop Bitching, Do Something,” “They Own the Media,” “Big Lie,” and “Why Are You On Facebook,” Morrison confronts the hypocrisies of the Covid dystopia head-on—he is among the very, very few artists to raise a voice critical of the mainstream narrative. He has launched fearlessly into the realm of social criticism, which carries the inherent risk of offending audience and critics alike. But I would argue that the body politic urgently needs such critical self-reflection right now. In songs like “Psychoanalyst’s Ball,” Morrison questions our preoccupation with self-help, New Age beliefs and perpetual psychotherapy. The sociopolitical songs are balanced by more introspective, personal songs like “Tried To Do the Right Thing,” “No Good Deed Goes Unpunished,” “Mistaken Identity,” and “The Long Con.” Morrison counters those who would accuse him of self-righteousness by admitting in “Tried To Do the Right Thing” that, “I’m certainly no hero…” In “Mistaken Identity” he sings: “’Cause I don’t live my life only singing in one key,” as both this record and his long career amply testify. Quoting Socrates, he adds: “The unexamined life is not worth living,” a principle that has long guided artists. Art is a mirror we hold up to ourselves and our society.

True, at times righteous rage overcomes the poet in him—as I said, political writing in poetic terms is a tough assignment. So it’s understandable that some critics hear a carping voice in some of these songs. His use of the accusatory “you” in a few songs is uncomfortably close to the preacher banging his pulpit. Even I squirm a little to the lyrics of “Deadbeat Saturday Night,” with its disparagement of “hicks in the sticks, don’t understand what makes them tick,” since I could fit that description as a rural writer. But I think Morrison’s point here is that the Covid lockdowns have all but destroyed live music. As I write in Words from the Dead: “The architects of global lockdown can congratulate themselves as the first troglodytes in history to have successfully killed all culture, everywhere in the world.”[9] Morrison isn’t just carping. In June 2021 he announced his third Hardship Fund to assist musicians in Northern Ireland. In addition, he launched a legal challenge to his government regarding its pandemic restrictions prohibiting live music during lockdowns. [10] Having sat through deadly uninspiring Zoom “concerts,” I concur with his lyric in “Rebels” that musicians “need a real live audience to perform.” Art is a form of participatory magic, which requires that artist and audience be in the same room.

Musically Morrison is adept as ever—there’s no sense at all of an artist just going through the motions. Given the lyrical content, it’s an astute choice to clothe them in music with an infectious swing, sweetly soulful backing choruses and understated guitar solos. That makes this very long album move along quickly. As usual, Morrison works with only the best musicians, although many of the names in these recordings are unfamiliar to me. The soulful vocals of Chris Farlowe on “Big Lie” are a revelation. Out of 28 tunes I can only think of two that could easily have been left out: “Latest Record Project,” an unnecessary bit of self-promotion, and “Why Are You on Facebook,” where the music is inferior to the message. It’s also great to see Morrison veering more heavily toward blues than his signature R&B; that and neo-gospel backing vocals adds a novel flavour to the mix.

In a future, more sane time, Latest Record Project may well be considered a classic of the Covid Age. I nominate “Where Have All the Rebels Gone” as the signature tune of the era. Like CCR’s “Fortunate Son,” arguably the signature song of the Vietnam War era, it achieves a perfect symmetry of lyrics and music. Because after all, it’s only the genuine rebels in society who keep the abuses of power at bay. We’ll need every one of them in the years ahead, as the globalist agenda of the Davos clique rolls like a tank over democratic constitutions everywhere. As Albert Camus wrote: “Every insubordinate person, when he rises up against oppression, reaffirms thereby the solidarity of all men.”[11] And in The Rebel he coined the ideal adage for the Covid Age: “I rebel—therefore we exist.”[12] In the deepening gloom of our new Dark Age, thank God for the light shone on our path by artists like Van Morrison.

[1] Publisher’s website: http://www.ekstasiseditions.com/recenthtml/wordsfromthedead.htm

[2] Listen on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpAl29QrS4s

[3] Sean Arthur Joyce, Words from the Dead: Relevant Readings in the Covid Age, essays, Ekstasis Editions 2022, p. 188.

[4] Sean Arthur Joyce, Words from the Dead: Relevant Readings in the Covid Age, essays, Ekstasis Editions 2022, p. 189.

[5] Sean Arthur Joyce, Words from the Dead: Relevant Readings in the Covid Age, essays, Ekstasis Editions 2022, p. 189.

[6] Listen on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zfWl3ijpmrQ

[7] Sean Arthur Joyce, Words from the Dead: Relevant Readings in the Covid Age, essays, Ekstasis Editions 2022, p. 190.

[8] A Book of Days for the Literary Year, edited by Neal T. Jones, Thames & Hudson, London, 1984 (1989 ed.), February 28 entry.

[9] Sean Arthur Joyce, Words from the Dead: Relevant Readings in the Covid Age, essays, Ekstasis Editions 2022, Preface, p. 16.

[10] https://www.vanmorrison.com/news/2021/van-morrison-launches-third-hardship-fund-for-local-musicians-and-institutes-fresh-legal-proceedings-to-challenge-the-blanket-ban-of-live-music-in-northern-ireland

[11] Albert Camus, “Resistance, Rebellion and Death,” essays.

[12] Albert Camus, The Rebel, Alfred A. Knopf, 1956, p. 22.

Posted in Music, Political Commentary, Rock 'n Roll | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment